Author's Note: Two days. Okay, two days. We can do this, guys. We can hold out that long. In the meantime, why not read yet another ML fic to pass the hours? This one will (probably) be less depressing than the others, I promise.

Inspiration: For this fic, it comes from the Harriet Beecher Stowe quote I heard while watching an episode of the TV show Criminal Minds (which is an amazing show, by the way). My first thought, of course, went straight to Lexie dying and all the regrets Mark would have to live with afterward; it was a post-crash look back on what had happened... But then I thought about it, and I decided it might be more interesting to do it all in real time, to actually see the crash happen and discover how our beloved surgeons react to this catastrophe and how it changes their perspectives. What's not important, and what is? What doesn't need to be said, and what does? And will they all figure it out in time? Read and find out :)

.

Prologue

.

Harriet Beecher Stowe once said,

"The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone."

.

Mark Sloan can't take his eyes off her. He can't do anything, in fact, except stare at her. She is less than five feet away, but still he can't say a word. He wants to hit himself. She poured her heart out. She laid it all on the line. She was brave.

He, obviously, is not. Sitting her twiddling his thumbs and tapping his feet; he can't even speak to a girl, even when he knows for a fact that she's in love with him. He exhales angrily through his nose, wishing that there were an easy solution. But of course there isn't. Nothing this monumental is ever easy. It takes time.

And he had meant what he said when he told her he needed time, when he told her he needed to think about what she'd said. That wasn't a stall. He frowns. He hopes she was able to see that. He moves forward in his chair, as if to call out to her; Lexie! Lexie, it wasn't a stall. I just need to wrap my head around it. I just need to understand. I just need time.

That was Mark Sloan's problem: time. Time was never on his good side. First, he was too old and she was too young. Then they were at different stages in life. And then his daughter and grandson had come into the picture, too much, too fast, too young. Time, time, time. More than anything, he wants to get that time back. More than anything, he wants more time.

It has been nearly a week since she'd approached him outside the hospital and still he can't calm himself down enough to actually digestand understandwhat she'd said that night. Still, whenever he thought about that night, he would get so sidetracked and awestruck by what she's said that he couldn't piece it all together. But now… He takes a breath, forcing himself to focus. She said she loved him. Initially, that was good. He'd prayed for her to say that for months, and she'd finally admitted it. …But it was also bad. They had both come to see over the years that their ideas of love did not line up. He perceived it as a life-long commitment. You love one person. You love one person and you are done. …And she, judging by the number of times she'd walked out on him, was done. Just not in the way he had hoped.

But even so… He loved her. Still, he really, really loved her. She was in his head, in his heart… She was an ache in his chest and gut and other place he wouldn't allow himself to think about right now. She was always there, and he was starting to think that she would always be there. And she… She had made it seem like she really loved him, too. She said that she couldn't breathe or eat or sleep… Well, he understood. He knew what that was like. He'd been through that rodeo once or twice. But the important thing, more important than her words (no matter how honest), or her actions (no matter how admirable), was the one question that plagued him: Could he trust her? Did he dare let himself be convinced (again) that this was a life-long commitment on her part and not just jealous envy finally boiling its way to the surface? Did he dare to hope that she shared his sentiments, his love, his commitment, his very real plans for the future?

He heaves a sigh, shaking his head. He knows he won't come to a conclusion today, just as he hasn't come to one every day since she admitted her love to him in that hospital entryway. So he turns his head, forcing his gaze away from her and out the window. He watches the clouds pass by, praying for a distraction, for an answer, for an opportunity to see and know the truth.

.

All Lexie Grey wanted to do was sleep. The last couple of days had been tiring—exhausting, really, if she were to factor in the emotional strain. But she can't think about that night. No. Not now. Not ever. It just makes her want to slam her head against the wall or fall into a coma. It's too horrible, too humiliating, too… She closes her eyes. Devastating.

She squeezes her eyes tight, trying not to think about the stunned-speechless look he had on his face. But of course, trying not to think about it only made her think about it more. Made her think about him more.

Her shoulders twitch; her body shivering involuntarily at the thought of him.

He doesn't want you.

She takes a deep breath. No matter how much it hurts, she tells herself, you have to face the facts. You must face the facts. They're all you have, all you've ever had.

He doesn't want you.

But why not? A voice in her head demands. Why does he want her over me? Her? After all we've been through? The answer comes a second later: because she's different. She isn't young or inexperienced or lacking commitment. She wants his kids; hell, she'd probably marry him on the spot if he offered.

Lexie sighs. That's it, she thinks sadly. We've been through too much together. We've tried and tried and tried and it just doesn't work between us. As much as we both want it to, it has never and will never work. Lexie has to bite her lip at the thought: it's so honest, so raw and brutal… She looks down, hoping no one can see the tears pricking her eyes. As she stares at her hands, sniffing quietly so no one will take notice, she realizes that this sudden display of emotion on her part only solidifies her theory. I tried, she realizes, thinking of that night not even a week ago. And he refused me. She swallows, remembering. And he tried too, she reminds herself, thinking of the fight they'd had last year and how she told him she didn't want to love him. And I refused him.

She swallows roughly, forcing her head up. Automatically—and against her will—her eyes find him. He's on the other side of the plane. His head is leaning against the window; he must be asleep or studying the clouds. She can't see his eyes from this angle, but she can see his whole profile. And it nearly takes her breath away. She knows it's stupid, after all these years, to still be so bowled over by his physical appearance… But she can't help it. With the exception of Jackson (or maybe without), he was the handsomest man she'd ever been with. The eldest, the most experienced… She almost blushes for a moment, thinking of all he'd showed her their first night together… And how much more they'd both learned about each other the many nights after.

He was the most loving, too, she realizes with a pang a moment later. No one she'd ever been with—no one—had ever loved her like she knew he did. He didn't even need to say it—she just knew. And that was the way it was supposed to be, wasn't it? All those stories about true love and undying devotion? It's isn't manufacture or created or cultivated... It's just there.

And that was why it was such a horrible, horrible shame his love hadn't lasted like hers had. She tells herself it's his loss: he'll never know how much she loves him, or how devoted she is to him… He'll never know that she's considered rescinding her reservations on marriage and children—for him, and for him only.

Yes, she tries to tell herself it's all his loss.

But the truth is, it isn't his loss. He has a family, a girlfriend… And maybe he'll even have a pretty new wife and a baby boy or girl soon. What is he missing out on? Who's the real loser in this situation?

Her heart breaks at the thought, for she knows already. She's known for weeks. It's why she confronted him with that out-of-control 's her loss. Hers, and hers alone. She's lost him, and with him, any shot she might've had at love or fulfillment or a real life outside of her profession. Without him, she's lost it all. She's the loser.

And she will never forgive herself for it, as long as she lives.

Lexie Grey forces a breath through her lungs, trying not to panic as she feels the tears start to come on. Her eyes dart around frantically; exit, she thinks. I need an exit. Her eyes fall on it, on the far side of the plane, filled with tears and relief. She unbuckles her seatbelt and gets to her feet without wasting another second. She doesn't trust herself to hold it together any longer.

.

Derek Shepherd had tried. He had tried starting conversation, he tried getting under the plastic surgeon's skin… Once or twice, he had even actually succeeded in grabbing his friend's attention… But he was never able to hold it. The other man's gaze always reverted back to her. Again and again and again his attention returned to her, and after an hour of this, Derek realized that he had begun to understand the term 'self-destructive behavior.'

Mark just couldn't help himself. He said he wasn't a cheater anymore, but every look he gave this woman that wasn't his girlfriend told a different story. Derek Shepherd doesn't even need to peek into his friend's mind to know that the feelings go so much deeper than preoccupied thoughts and stolen glances.

Derek sighs, propping his head up with one hand. Mark won't cave to him, that much has already been established. But then a though strikes him—who had already caved? Multiple times, to him and to Mark? Derek looks over to his sister-in-law, a self-satisfied smile spreading over his face just in time for him to see the woman get to her feet and head across the plane towards the lavatory. He gets to his feet as well, following after her. Her pace quickens the moment she picks up on his presence, but Derek matches her step for step, determined to get at least one of them to see sense.

Her eyes are filled with tears when she whirls around on him. "What?" She hisses, keeping her voice low so as to not draw the attention of the surgeons in the back of the plane. "What do you want, Derek?"

"I wanted to talk to you," he replies softly, "about this stupid stalemate you and Mark have found yourselves in."

"You don't need to concern yourself with my relationship with Mark," she informs him. "Or lack thereof." She tries to keep her words crisp and controlled, but they tremble when they exit her mouth. He doesn't miss how her hand flies to her face to swat away an escaped tear.

"Lexie," Derek prods gently, "want to tell me why you're so upset?"

She shakes her head, biting down hard on her lip. "No reason," she whispers hoarsely.

He eyes her kindly. "Am I going to have to force it out of you this time, Little Grey?" He tilts his head at her. "Come on, try me. I've helped out in the past, right?"

She shakes her head again, but more defeated this time. He hears her let out a long breath just before she opens her mouth to speak. "I've just…" She ducks her head down, but that doesn't stop him from seeing the tears that stain her pretty face. "I've just realized," she mutters, wiping her cheeks quickly and lifting her eyes to his, "that it's too late for me and him. It's too late for us to figure things out, to be together. We missed our shot."

"Oh, Lexie," Derek murmurs sadly. "You haven't—"

"Yes, we have!" She counters angrily. Her voice falls back to a hush a second later, spying for eavesdroppers. When she doesn't find any, she continues. "I mean, god, Derek, you saw him in that elevator! He didn't say one word to me about what happened last week."

"Yes, because I was there!"
She shakes her head again, fear filling her eyes again. "It doesn't make a difference," she half-sobs. "He doesn't want me." She sniffs her nose quickly, closing her eyes. "But, god, do I want him," she whispers. Her tear-filled eyes find his when they open. "I—I'd do anything, anything, at this point, just to have him, just to be with him. He wants to get married?" She wonders. "Done! He wants kids? Done! I don't care! I'll do it, whatever it takes! I just…" She expels a large breath. "I want to be with him so badly, Derek. I can't think about anything else. But it's…it's becoming clear to me that he doesn't want me like that. Or at all. So it's…" She sniffs again, looking away. "So it's just not going to happen between us."

Derek sighs, putting his hands on his sister-in-law's shoulders. "First of all, Lexie," he begins firmly, "Mark absolutely wants you. Don't ever think otherwise." He stares her hard in the eyes. "Lexie, that idiot is in love with you. You said he's all you think about?" He gives her a small smile, tilting his head towards the back of the plane. "Lex, who do you think he's spent the last two hours staring at?"

Her eyes widen, taken aback as they study the plastic surgeon in question. "He… He's been looking at me?"
Derek almost laughs. "If I didn't know him, I would think the guy was a stalker. He stared at you for an hour and a half straight before giving up."

"Giving up…?"
Derek grimaces slightly. "He's… trying to come to terms with everything that's happened, with what you said."

Lexie's hand flies to her mouth. "He told you about that?"

"Don't worry," Derek assures her. "He didn't give any specifics—if there even were any. He just said that you admitted your love for him." He leans closer. "And by the way, I told him to kiss you."

Lexie can't help but smile. "Thanks, Derek. I wish you'd given him that advice sooner."

"Me too, Little Grey." He takes a breath. "And you know what? If he doesn't figure out how to show or tell you how he feels by the time we land in Boise, I promise I will do it for him."

Lexie manages a weak chuckle at this. "Do it for him?" She repeats. "Won't your wife be a little upset? Also, I don't think I'd be very comfortable…"

He smiles, shaking his head. "I meant I'd force him into speaking to you."

Lexie grins. "So now he's being forced?"

"He just needs to confront his feelings, once and for all," Derek replies seriously. He pauses for a moment, looking into her dark brown eyes intently. "And those feelings are there, Lexie. He knows he loves you, okay? He just needs to find a way to tell you."

"He's had plenty of chances."

Derek gives her a small smile. "Do me a favor then, and give him another chance?"

Lexie holds his gaze for a few seconds before nodding quietly. "Okay," she murmurs. "I'll give him another chance." I'll give him a million chances.

"Good." He pulls her into a quick hug. "Let's go back to our seats?"

She gives him a small smile. "Give me a minute, okay? To gather my bearings?"

Derek smiles back. "Of course," he replies.

.

Lexie closes the lavatory door behind her, taking a deep breath when the lights flicker on. She regards herself in the mirror for a time, pleased to see that the damage isn't too bad. Her eyes just look a little red, is all.

She's pushing the door open as she feels her body start to shake. She frowns, immediately on edge, wondering where this panic attack is coming from. I'll give him another chance, she tells herself, trying to calm her shaking hands and arms. I'll give him another chance and we'll figure it out. She swallows, forcing herself to stay calm. But calm flies out the window two seconds later as she realizes that it isn't her body that's shaking, it's the plane, and she knows it isn't just turbulence. It's too bad just to be turbulence. When the overhead lights flicker, and then the emergency aisle lights come on, she knows it must be some sort of system failure. Maybe one of the engines is out of commission. Her stomach drops with the plane as it dips into a nosedive beneath their feet. Maybe both engines.

After that thought, her mind goes completely blank. She looks out at the tiny compartment before her. Her eyes skim over Derek, only halfway back to his seat and still closer to her than the other passengers as he braces himself against the ceiling in a row of seats just a few feet away; and Arizona, who appears to be praying to ward off superstition; and Meredith and Cristina, who are both waking from their naps; her eyes skim over everyone. Except him.

Her eyes lock onto his automatically, bridging the distance between them—almost the length of the entire plane—with just one look. She sees the realization in his eyes just as it's become fully formed in her mind: We're going to die.

The rest of the plane is completely aware now, and as they all become cognizant of what's going to happen—as the plane drops faster and faster towards the ground—the screams start. She doesn't know who yells first, or what is being said, but she does hear the noise. And the panic and the fear. She can almost smell the fear—like a predator can his prey—it's that pervasive.

And yet she can't scream, and neither can he. Both their tongues are plastered to the inside of their mouths and their lips are sealed shut. And though they know this is literally their last chance to speak, neither can. There's so much to say, so much to confess and admit and pray and hope for, but really, if they're both being honest, three simple words will suffice. She watches him get unsteadily to his feet, his eyes still locked with hers, and for a half-second her heart warms at the image, certain he's coming to get her; certain he's coming to hold her, to kiss her, to whisper in her ear 'I love you.'

But then a horrible crunching, cracking, and tearing sound rips through their small world, rips through her mind… And separates her from him. She watches, frozen in place, as the floor, walls, and ceiling of the plane split apart between them as they plummet closer and closer to what can only be their deaths.

Lexie recalls—vaguely, as if it were another woman's memory—how she thought, just minutes ago, that she'd never forgive herself for losing him for as long as she lived. And even as her body is thrown backward against the cockpit and the screams that had become familiar over the last couple seconds disappear altogether, a side of her smiles. At least I won't have to live very long with the guilt.

.

"The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone."

Harriet Beecher Stowe

.

Author's Note: I would love feedback! I think I'm going to turn this into a multi-chapter fic, so keep and eye out for updates! Please leave me a review to let me know what you think!