Running in Circles - Lexie Grey x OC

The Art of Getting By

Late Night
Operating Room 3

Eric's gaze remained fixed on the skull's cavity, his gloved hands hovering above it. His eyes were blank, empty, and slowly reflecting a fear that Lexie knew well, a fear he'd never admit to her or anyone else. He was still going blank in the OR. Lexie could always see it: the shift in his stare, the way his focus slipped from sharp concentration to hollow vacancy. His posture would stiffen, his breathing would grow shallow, and then, inevitably, a muted shudder would escape him.

She was almost always his assisting surgeon since Cristina couldn't be. And each time it happened, Eric would stand there, pale and cold, like the OR table itself was swallowing him whole. He had confessed it to her one night when they were sleeping together. Sometimes, in the middle of a surgery, he saw Izzie. Other times, most times, he saw Lexie, lifeless and still. He insisted it didn't bother him, claimed it sharpened his focus and pushed him to save his patients. But she knew better. She saw it in the tremor he tried to hide, the breath he held just a little too long. And every time, it was Lexie who had to pull him back.

That night was no different. Lexie, stretching the ache from her neck, caught the distant look in Eric's eyes. The tenting suture he'd just used on the dura rested on the tray, but he didn't move. The fear had crept in again.

She didn't hesitate. Keeping her gaze steady, she cleared her throat and spoke the words that had become their lifeline.

"I'm here."

Eric blinked. Slowly, his eyes shifted to her. Her eyes, steady and certain, reflected none of the fear that lingered in his. She took a deep breath, one he unconsciously mirrored. Inhale. Exhale. Again.

And then, as the air left his lungs, the tension in his shoulders eased. He whispered back, barely audible, "You're here."

A minute passed. Then, with his hands steady once more, Eric returned to the surgery.

It had become their routine, a lifeline for Eric. Something he relied on to push through the trauma that clung to him after the shooting incident. The day he almost lost Lexie. The day he lost a colleague he should have saved. The memory haunted him, but that simple phrase "I'm here" pulled him back every time.

But what Eric didn't know was that the lifeline he clung to had been unraveling on the other end.

Lexie had her own ghosts. Worse ones. Because she was the target.

She knew it. Felt it. The knowledge twisted inside her, a weight she carried alone. The memory of the Mr. Clark's eyes on her, the terrifying certainty that she was meant to die that day. It never left. It haunted her in the quiet nights, in the empty hallways. But she never said a word.

Not to Eric. Not to anyone.

While he leaned on her for strength, Lexie stayed silent. She smiled, reassured him, whispered the words that steadied his trembling hands.

"I'm here."

And all the while, she wasn't sure if she truly was.

- - - - -

The room was pitch black.

Lexie blinked awake, her eyes struggling to adjust to the suffocating darkness. Her vision blurred, and her mind swirled with confusion. She had fallen asleep in her own bed, in her attic room. She was sure of it. But now, she lay on a cold, damp floor. The air was heavy, still. No trace of the dim lamplight from the street outside filtered through. No faint shadows danced on the walls. Just darkness.

Her pulse quickened. The eerie quiet gnawed at her nerves. The chill of the floor seeped into her skin as her shaky hands pressed against it, searching for stability. Slowly, she pushed herself up, her palm resting against the wall behind her. But something was wrong.