What Do You Hear inThese Sounds 22/??
Author: Carsonfiles
Timeline: Post Season 3 finale
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but if Shonda doesn't quit bending them in ways they weren't meant to bend, I might have to confiscate them.
Summary: Later that evening, at Joe's Emerald City Bar. . .
Rating: PG-13
Two men sat in the back booth of The Emerald City Bar. Two drinks, exactly the same, sat on the table: double scotch, single malt. And neither one of the men had said a word.
Mark watched Derek pick up his drink, sip it, grimace, then put it back on the table. Mark had dragged him here, told him that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. But now, Mark didn’t know what to say. Or whether to say anything at all.
Because, seriously, their friendship was about 24 hours old, and if they were becoming friends again, he didn’t want to wreck it. But he remembered Derek’s slumped body, crushed posture and broken expression as he waited in that hallway the day of the ferry crash. He remembered the tears, the despair. The giving up. If Meredith dying had that effect on him, he wasn’t going to stand by and watch the two of them screw up just because they didn’t know how the other operated. They don’t speak the same language.
Derek tapped his fingers staccato on the glass. Mark saw that his eyebrows were drawn in, in anticipation of whatever would be said.
“Derek. I know you don’t like me much. And you don’t trust me. But you can trust Meredith. You just don’t get her, or you would trust her.”
Now Derek’s eyebrows lifted in faux surprise. “Oh. And I suppose that you are Mr. Sensitivity; you are the one that really gets her.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I get her.” I’ve known her my entire life.
Derek shook his head. “You are an ass, Mark. A complete and total ass. This time, you definitely know that she’s mine.”
Mark laughed. “Don't worry about me. She’s yours, yes. But you don’t get her. You don’t know what makes her tick. You need me. I’m your Rosetta Stone.”
Narrowing one eye, Derek gestured for Mark to keep going.
“I speak Shepherd, the language of a family that was relatively functional and happy. But luckily for you, I also speak the language of Grey, because it’s just a dialect of Sloan, really. And we all know that Sloan is the official language of dysfunction. For you, it’s so foreign, it might as well be Farsi. You don’t have a clue, you can’t even ask for directions to the john.” Mark paused.
“What the hell are you talking about?” The frustration on Derek’s face was evident to someone who had known him most of his life. And Mark had, so he slowed down, trying to choose his words carefully.
“You can either listen to me, Derek, or go it on your own. But remember when you were determined to speak French in France? And asked for directions in that café, and they sent you all around the city, when your hotel was right next door?”
Derek guffawed and flashed Mark a twist of a smile. “I still say that was just an example of French hospitality. They knew what I was saying.”
“You might as well have been asking for the moon. They didn’t have a clue about what you wanted, what you were saying. And neither does Grey.”
Derek exhaled, blowing out his cheeks as he nodded. “I get it. You want to translate Meredith. But you forget, I speak girl. I believe you know my sisters?”
Mark smirked. “Yes. Some better than others.”
“Thin ice, buddy. Thin.” Derek’s voice was a growl, so Mark decided to shut up about Derek's sisters.
“Derek, let’s play word association. I say a word, you let it bring up whatever images it will. Here’s the first word: Christmas.”
“Christmas?”
“Yeah. Think about Christmas time when you were a kid. You probably get some mental image of midnight Mass and heaps of presents under the tree. Maybe a family dinner, table groaning with your mom and grandmother’s best efforts. Am I right?” Mark knew he was, but waited for Derek to respond.
“Right, but that’s true for most people, isn’t it?” Derek was puzzled. Everyone had memories of Christmas, and his weren’t any more idyllic than anyone else’s.
“Not for me, not until I started spending Christmas Eve with the Shepherds. Probably not for Meredith, either.” Mark tossed back the remains of his drink. “I’m going to get another. You ready or are you still working that one?”
"I'm good." Derek took another sip, and Mark went for his next drink.
“One drink, and then I have to go. Granted, I don’t have any furniture to move, but checking out of a hotel after a several month stay is going to be unpleasant.”
“Right,” Callie quipped. “Just think of packing the shoes.” Addison laughed, and Callie thought to herself that she hadn’t heard her laugh like that in a long time. Like ever. Then Addison looked at Callie, really looked, and looked hard. Callie lifted her eyebrows in response.
“All right, what is it?” Addison’s face was concerned.
“What is what? I’m having a drink or two with my friend who is about to ditch me for the sunny skies of Los Angeles. That’s not allowed?”
“Oh, that’s allowed. Encouraged, even. But that’s not all that’s going on here. You are acting all twitchy and laughy and smiley.” Still with a skeptical concerned look, Addison tasted her wine, and nodded approval.
"Twitchy, Laughy and Smiley? Are those some extra dwarves you are planning to drop off at Disneyland?" Callie's reflex was to cover any discomfort with humor. It worked in the seventh grade, it should still work now.
But it didn't. Addison just looked at her, gave her a look that rivaled Bailey's.
“What? I can’t be twitchy and smiley?” Relax. Deep breaths.
“No, you can. But right now? You’re scaring me, because the twitchy laughy smiley is about as thick as a layer of paint. And it’s flaking off, and underneath is some scarey. So what is it?” Addison was like a dog with a bone, and Callie realized she wasn’t giving it up anytime soon. She sighed.
“Okay. This doesn’t get to take over our evening, because it just doesn’t. Clear?”
“Crystal.” Addison raised her glass in acknowledgement. “Do you want to put a time limit on how long you talk? Because we can do that.”
“Nope.” Callie shook her head. “I’ll just get it out in a rush and you can time me. Ready?”
“Ready. Aaaand. . .go!” Callie started talking as Addison signaled the start.
“The past couple of days have been a high holy hell. First, I get the freaking CR job, which I’m totally unprepared for. I wanted it, I’m not an idiot, but did I think I would get it? No, I thought Bailey had it sewn up in her perfect little mattress stitch. So I’m really feeling like everyone is looking at me thinking it should be her. And I am too." She paused.
"Also, I found out that George didn’t pass his intern exam. Which is completely a non-issue, because when he was trying to tell me, I thought he was trying to tell me about Stevens. So I bluffed. And won. Except I lost. I told him I knew he slept with Steven, and the idiot wasn’t quick enough to deny it. No wonder he failed his boards.”
Addison looked up from her watch. “It’s only been 38 seconds. I’d say you qualify for more time, if you want.”
“It’s not that I want it. It’s that I need it. George is repeating his intern year at Grace, so he’s in his first 48 right now. But before I left, he tracked me down and told me he wants to work it out. Wants to stay married. That he wants me.”
Addison’s eyes were full of pity, and Callie hated that. “Stop. Now. Don’t look at me like I’m a 13 year old patient telling you I want to keep the baby.”
‘What do you want?”
“I wanted to come in first. But I’m not there. I want to think that he really does want it to work. But I’m not sure. I’m not sure he does, but I think he thinks he should.” Callie pulled her mouth to one side, making a sour face.
Addison shook her head. “That. . .really sucks, Callie.”
Callie nodded. “Yeah. Yeah it does.”
Addison stood up. “We’re getting another round. It’s not like I absolutely have to check out tomorrow, do I?”
"You're the one ditching to go start something new, you tell me!" And Callie felt more relaxed; simply sharing her trouble had made it all seem a bit easier to bear.
The bells jangled to signal three more customers for Joe; Izzie took two steps into the bar and then spun on her toes, raising her hands in victory.
“Yay us! We made it through our first day of residency!”
She and Meredith took seats at the bar, while Alex ordered a round of beer. Joe took off the caps and served them, and the three of them clinked brown bottles together in their first toast.
“So. To our first day as residents.” Alex grinned like a kid who had brought home the winning run. The three of them drank, and he licked the trace of foam from his upper lip. Then he turned on his stool to face the woman on his right.
“Now spill it, Grey, how did you get along with your long-lost sister?”
Meredith’s head snapped up. She had tried to block that part of the day out. “Thanks for that. The walking away thing. Nice to know you’re there for me when it matters.” She glared at Alex.
“You left Mer alone with a sister? Are you insane?” Izzie’s eyes had widened, and her mouth actually was open in her amazement.
”You were all zombie for George, so you don’t have room to talk.” Meredith leaned over to include Izzie in her glare.
“Come on, Yang dragged me off.” Alex defended himself with his trademark smirk. “I gladly would have stuck around to meet Mini-Mer. Besides, you could chew her up and spit her out before she even knew what was happening. Then you could just pick your teeth with her bones.” He took another long pull from his beer.
“Alex! That is disgusting, seriously.” Izzie shoved him sideways on his stool. “Leave Meredith alone, she’ll tell us when she’s ready.” Meredith laughed a little. The look on Izzie’s face made clear that she was at least as interested as Alex in the sister-saga. She sighed, and gave up.
“Ok, short version, she’s like I would be if I didn’t have this black cloud of despair following me around everywhere.” Meredith wrinkled her nose as she thought about how to describe her sister. “She’s. . .nice. Happy.” She nodded, and then frowned. “But she’s sort of scattered all over the place. Sloppy. We’ll probably never be good friends, but it’s not like she’s Evil Incarnate.”
“So we won’t be seeing a Grey versus Grey cat fight anytime soon?” The eyebrow wiggle that Alex gave made Meredith laugh and shove him back toward Izzie.
“You wish, Alex.” Meredith looked down and tugged at the edge of the beer label.
“Alex, again with the grossness,” Izzie said, giving a fake shocked look.
“I did have to tell her she couldn’t offer to buy Derek any more drinks,” Meredith stated flatly.
“What?” Both Izzie and Alex appeared truly shocked by this.
Meredith nodded. “Yeah, the night before last, at the bachelor party, she tried to pick up Derek.”
“And you let her live?” Izzie was still shocked, shaking her head a little.
“It didn’t thrill me. But how could she know? He was just a guy in a bar, she was just a girl. I already knew, though. I’m glad he told me. Or I’d have to kill him.” Meredith looked into her beer bottle instead of at her friends, still worrying at the label of her beer.
“You knew? Is that why you broke up with him?” Izzie was still digging for the latest news on the Meredith front.
“Why I broke up with him?” Meredith’s head snapped up and her eyebrows crinkled her forehead. “I didn’t really break up with him. I don’t think I broke up with him.” She shook her forehead and said firmly, “We’re in a holding pattern, sort of. Like flying in circles, waiting to land in breakup or not break up, but either way, it’s not about Lexie. I don’t think.”
Izzie and Alex looked at each other, confused. Alex rolled his eyes, and then lifted his beer again.
“What am I thinking, here’s another toast. To our fallen comrade, George.”
“Please. Be nice.” Meredith’s eyes were sad as she looked at him.
“No, dude, I mean it. He has this perseverance thing. He gets kicked in the nads over and over and just gets up and keeps going.” The bottle was still lifted, waiting for someone to clink in a toast to the O’Malley doggedness. None of them noticed that Callie was on Izzie’s other side, waiting for Joe to serve up another round.
“Okay, even though you put it in filthy dirty Evil Spawn words, I think you’re right. He’s going to make it.” Izzie lifted up her bottle and clinked with Alex.
“He damn sure is trying. You’ve got to respect that. I wanted to give up when I failed my practicals. You guys wouldn’t let me. He’s got a good thing with Dr. Mrs. O’Malley. And they're making it.” And Meredith nodded, raised her bottle, and the three of them drank to George.
Callie stood there, almost as if she wanted to say something to the three of them. Then she shook her head, and took the new drinks back to her booth.
When Derek heard Meredith’s laugh from across the bar, his head snapped up and he started to leave the booth. To Mark, it looked like some sort of magnetic force compelled him to track the girl down. He reached out and grabbed Derek’s arm.
“Wait.”
Derek looked at him angrily. “What do you mean, wait? Why the hell should I wait? We’re supposed to talk tonight.”
Mark shook his head. “Derek, she’s relaxed. She’s had a rough day, a rough week. Let her relax a little bit longer. She didn’t laugh once today.” Derek’s face grew sad, and he turned in his seat to catch a glimpse of Meredith.
“She’s scared, Derek.”
That got his attention. He whipped his head around to face Mark.
“Why the hell is she scared of me? I would never do anything to hurt her. Not intentionally.”
“No. Not intentionally, you wouldn’t. But you’re both hurt right now, and easing up a little can only do you good. She just got here. There’s lots of time for us to talk.”
Derek sighed as he lifted his glass. He took a long swallow of scotch, and then asked, “What should we talk about?”
“Let’s talk about why you turned down being Chief.”
When Callie got back to the booth, she flopped down across from Addison. She took a deep breath, and exhaled loudly, making a rather rude noise as she did so. Then she giggled.
“Am I horrible if I don’t take him back? He’s a good person, and I should take him back, but if I don’t want to, does that make me horrible?” The giggles had stopped, and she was looking at Addison for absolution, something that Addison believed that she had no business giving to anyone.
“It doesn’t make you horrible,” Addison said slowly, “but it does make me wonder why you married him such a short time ago.”
“Sometimes I wonder that myself.” Callie was playing with the salt shaker, sliding it from one hand to another. She gave it a slightly-too-hard push, and it toppled over, spilling some grains. Predictably, Callie leaned forward and touched a few to her finger. Then she stopped.
“I can’t remember. Do I toss this over my left shoulder with my right hand, or right shoulder with left? Do you remember?” Callie looked more distressed over this question than she did over forgiving her adulterous husband.
Addison snorted. “Why is it that surgeons are as superstitious as any old wife could be? Not that we’re old wives, of course.”
“Addison, why are you leaving?” Callie was dead serious now. “You’re finally making a home here. Well not a home, because you’re still staying at the Archfield. But you have friends. You have people who care. And you’re tossing it out the window. Why?”
“I need to get away from this place. I need to go somewhere I’m not known as the Wicked Witch of the East, where people don’t hate me because I ruined the romance of the century.” Addison stopped, rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine, then used the glass to gesture. “I deserve to be loved or hated on my own terms. Not because I’m the former Mrs. McDreamy or the former mistress of McSteamy.”
“So this doesn’t have anything to do with you sending Karev after Ava?” Callie asked slyly, raising her eyebrow.
“How did you know about that?” Addison demanded.
“I am Callie the All Knowing.” The stare that Callie gave back with that statement was. . .unusual, Addison decided. She stared back, until she lost that battle and went back to destroying the cocktail napkin that came with her wine.
“I just thought he deserved to be with someone carrying less baggage. Because that’s all I have, baggage.” She looked back at Callie, grateful that her friend had lost the odd look.
“You know, Addison, there are different ways of looking at baggage. You’ve got some people, and their baggage is dead weight around their necks; they spend their lives looking after it. And then other people, they cram their baggage full of souvenirs, until the bags overflow with what’s best from where they’ve been. Their bags are just as full, but they look at them as a gift.” Callie stopped talking, and looked slightly confused at her own words. Addison looked at her, raising one eyebrow.
“Holy shit, do I sound like a Blue Mountain greeting card or what?” Callie’s laughter was bubbling through her words.
“Was that more of Callie the All Knowing?” Addison looked skeptical.
”Come on, you have to admit, that was pretty profound. In a Dr. Phil sort of way, at least.” Then they both lost it, laughing loudly enough that the rest of the bar could hear them.
Derek sat for a few moments, spinning his glass. “Why did I turn down the position of chief.” His voice was quiet, murmuring. He looked up at Mark, a half-smile on his face.
“You know the joke about the most important thing in comedy?”
Mark shook his head. “No, I don’t. Drunk after a drink and a half?”
Shaking his head, Derek asked, “No. I’m not drunk. And how did you find out that I had turned down chief?”
“I may have only been here a few short months, but I do have friends in this hospital. Who gossip.” Mark’s smirk faded. “So tell me, what’s the most impor-“
“Timing,” Derek interrupted. Mark laughed, getting the joke as Derek continued, “Timing is the most important thing in comedy. The timing right now sucks.”
Mark looked at him, confused. “What’s going on now that won’t be going on in a couple of months?”
“I don’t know. This is just. . .hard. Harder than I thought it would be.” Derek leaned back in the booth and looked at the ceiling.
“Derek, you may possibly be the laziest person in love I’ve ever met.” Mark said. “That’s why I don’t do relationships, because they aren’t easy.” He finished off the last sips of his drink, then pushed the empty over to Derek. “This round’s on you.”
Derek pushed it back. “You’re the one who said we had to come out here. Go get us another round.” Mark smirked, but headed back to the bar.
The three former interns sat at the bar, exchanging toasts and lighthearted insults. As they talked one over the other, they laughed frequently and loudly. Only a keen observer who knew each of them well would notice they weren’t really happy. The two people who fit that description were both back at the hospital, ignoring their own troubles to take care of patients. Mark eyed them as he approached the bar; he knew Meredith and could sense her misery, but the other two were a mystery to him. He stood beside the blonde doctor-model, and waited for Joe to finish pouring the next round of scotch.
He nodded. “Stevens.”
“Dr. Sloan.”
Mark was ignoring her. That’s what he’d been doing all night long, ignoring her. No, ignoring her implied that he’d noticed her. And he never had noticed her, not when she had her hand on his patient’s pec (and the other on that asshole Karev’s, what the hell was that about anyway?), not when she refused to fold under his crap and be a suck-up, and not when she had drilled a hole in some guys brain using a Sears Craftsman drill, like she was some kind of hero. No, she's not even a blip on my radar.
He was just glad to know that Derek had his back to the bar. Shep didn’t need to see Grey or be applying the pressure right now. Because really, Grey was looking pretty nice tonight, though obviously miserable.
Like Stevens. He wasn’t wondering why Stevens would be looking miserable, no he wasn’t. Because that would mean he had noticed. And he wasn’t sure what he would do if he had noticed. Because he had a weakness, a weakness for women with sad brown eyes.
He chalked it up to the next door neighbors’ beagle that he used to take care of when they went on vacation. Damn dog could get under my skin like nothing else.
Where the hell is Mark with my drink? Derek knew he didn’t need another, didn’t really want another. In his current mood, too much alcohol was a dark pit, just waiting for him to stumble. He turned around to tell Mark not to bother. But Mark was walking away from the bar, to the booths on the other side. Derek saw him approach Addison, who was laughing it up, grabbing her purse and scooting out of the booth she shared with Callie.
And then he saw her.
Deep purple sweater. Her hair catching the lights from the bar. A melancholy smile curving the beauty of her lips. His Meredith. Their eyes met, and he got up from the bar to go talk to her. To reassure her. To tell her that he didn’t want to be another thing on her list, another problem for her to solve. This problem was theirs to solve together. She could want to run; she probably would run. Hell, he’d probably want to run a time or two himself. But if what had already happened between them this year hadn’t driven them apart, they could figure this out. Can’t we?
If we can’t, then there’s really no such thing as soulmates.
He walked up to her, smiling. And practically grinning when she smiled back.
“Hey. You look. . .nice.” She ducked her head and smiled at the compliment.
“Thanks.” She glanced over at Alex and Izzie, who were watching Mark and Addison have some sort of discussion. “Do you know what’s going on over there? That’s kind of intense.”
Derek shook his head. “I haven’t a clue. Addison has been making noises about leaving the hospital. That’s why I was at the trailer this morning, I drove out there to look for her CV.”
“Ladies, are you leaving before I have the chance to buy you a drink?” Mark loaded his question with naughty intent, and gave them a lopsided grin. Callie rolled her eyes, but looked at Addison to respon
When she did, her voice was soft. “Mark, I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you all day.” She and Callie exchanged glances, and Callie nodded.
“I’ll just,” Callie pointed to the bar, “I’m waiting over there.” Then, as she saw who was over there, she amended, “or in the car.”
Addison nodded again and whispered her thanks. Then she looked back up to Mark.
“Remember the trip I made to L.A. a week ago?” Her voice gently caressed Mark’s ear and promised to be kind. “I’m going back down there in the morning.”
“They need another consult from you? How long will this one take?” Mark cocked an eyebrow at her. What is she running from this time?
“No, Mark,” she answered. “I’m moving. Actually checking out of the hotel room and driving down. I might just do something wild and crazy like buy a house, rent an apartment. Discover some stability.”
“Wait a minute.” Mark grabbed her upper arm tightly. “You’re leaving Seattle Grace? And what, if I hadn’t come over here tonight, how were you planning on telling me? Sending me an e-mail?” His tone was vicious, and he knew that she didn’t deal well with anger. But. . .he wasn’t. Not really. Hurt, yeah, disappointed, yeah. But there’s no newsflash here. Just a reminder, you’re still not what she wants.
“Mark, I wanted to tell you. And it wouldn’t be an e-mail. As soon as I get settled, you can. . .well, come visit. As a friend.” The two of them were walking to the door of the bar. The doctors sitting at the bar were all looking at them questioningly.
“You told Derek?” Mark’s voice was gruff.
Addison sighed and closed her eyes. “No. Don’t you think we’ve said all the goodbyes we need to say, me and Derek?”
“No,” answered Mark, and gestured for Derek to join them, waited a moment for him to get near. “Tell him, Addison.”
“Tell him what?” asked Derek.
“Tell you I’m leaving. That’s why I needed my CV this morning, because I’ve put in my resignation and I’m leaving Seattle Grace.”
“You’re joining Naomi and Sam’s practice, right?” guessed Derek.
Addison smiled and nodded. Derek reached out and gave his ex-wife a hug. “Tell them I said hello. And if you’re feeling very generous, I’ll come down and visit.”
Addison laughed. “I’ll have to be feeling very generous. Although stranger things have happened, Derek.” She turned around and looked at the Emerald City Bar, scene of so many troubles for her in the last year. “No offense, Joe,” she called out. “But I won’t miss this place. You, I’ll miss. But not your bar.”
Joe saluted her with a newly-opened bottle. “Thanks for my babies, Dr. Montgomery. And you’d better come back to visit.”
She turned and smiled at both Derek and Mark. “Goodbye, guys.” Derek bussed her cheek, then returned to Meredith at the bar. Mark watched him go, and then turned back to Addison.
“You and Karev. What did he do to you that you want to go?” he asked, voice tight. Although he knew there was no more hope for him and Addison, (and was actually somewhat relieved by that), the thought that another man had touched her, much less hurt her, wounded him.
A lot.
Addison lost her smile for a moment, and then pasted it back on. “Mark, there never was a me and Karev. I don’t know what you. . .or maybe I do. But there never was anything real. I was. . .” she thought for a moment, then continued. “I was wrong. It didn’t really exist.”
She brushed a kiss against his cheek, pulled from his arms, and left. Mark stood in the entry to the bar, listening to bells jangling as the door shut behind her.
Mark tried to calm himself. Addison was a grown woman, she could make all of her own decisions. Except she wasn’t. She couldn’t. She’d been as wounded as any of them this past year, maybe more than he had been. And Karev had obviously taken advantage of that, thought he’d rack up an easy score.
Mark turned and moved to the bar in two strides, seeking out Alex Karev. He stood, seething, until the younger man spoke.
“Can I help you, Dr. Sloan?” Alex took a sip of his beer, but focused his eyes on the attending.
“Can you help me? Can you help me?” Mark’s anger was forced out of him in a growl. “Yeah, you can help me. You can go find Addison Montgomery and fix it.”
Alex’s eyebrows wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “Fix it?”
“You hurt her. I don’t know what went on between the two of you in that supply closet, and I don’t care to know. But you need to fix it. Fast. She’s leaving, so you’re on a time crunch.”
Alex shook his head. “I didn’t hurt her,” he said, not meeting Mark’s eyes. “I saved her. She doesn’t need someone like me.”
Seriously? Could he be more idiotic?
Mark inhaled through his nose and slowly exhaled, wanting to find his happy place. Then he swung his arm around Alex’s neck and walked with him across the bar. His tone was firm, but somehow friendly.
“Karev. Get your ass over to her hotel. Talk to her. And fix it. If you can’t figure out what you did wrong, drop a pair, and ask.” Mark finished escorting Alex to the door, and gave him a gentle shove outside. He had turned back to face the bar when Alex poked his head back in.
“Someone’s going to have to get those two home, because I’m their driver. And neither Shepherd nor Sloan better be at my house when I get there!” Alex’s tone wasn’t quite as confident as he probably wanted, and Mark grinned before turning back around.
“Karev! A boy shouldn’t worry about what the men do. Now move!” Alex glared, but moved. Meredith and Izzie giggled at each other, surprised that their friend would let himself be bossed around so easily.
“What?” asked Mark innocently. “I just made him do what he wanted to do all along. He’s been moping all night.”
Izzie continued to giggle as Mark came to join them at the bar. She leaned over and whispered to Meredith, “Now that? Was well worth the price of admission. Who would have ever thought that Alex would make a play for the gynie patrol!”
Meredith crinkled her nose and whispered back, “You’d think they would realize that Mark’s like the Obi-Wan to Alex’s Anakin.”
Izzie considered that for a moment, and then snorted. “Does that mean Mark just pushed Alex into the volcano?” The two of them laughed until they snorted and wiped away tears at that characterization of Addison, then Izzie finished off her beer. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Mark. He was looking right at her, taking his time as he walked to the bar. He stood next to her, leaned back and grinned.
“How about I buy you another drink, Stevens?”
Izzie’s laugh sounded startlingly bitter, even to her own ears.
“Don’t go there, Sloan. You don’t want to go there.”
“What?” he asked, again assuming his innocent posture. “I’m just trying to make a new friend, is there anything wrong with being friendly?”
Izzie put on her meanest look. And while she knew she was no Cristina Yang, she hadn’t been the weakest link growing up in the Canterbury Fields trailer park. She could do mean. She didn’t like to do mean, but like her grandmother used to say, needs must when the devil drives.
And there was nothing angelic about Mark Sloan.
“The only thing wrong with being friendly with me, Dr. Sloan, is that just today I got the professional opinion that whenever I get to be your kind of friends with a man, I end up believing that I’m in love with him. You ready for that ride?”
She had everyone’s attention. Crap. The couple drinking down the bar looked curiously at her, while the three nurses in the nearest booth had just skipped curious and were laughing their asses off. Dammit. That wasn’t planned. She just wanted to scare off Sloan, so he’d leave her alone. She didn’t need to deal with his crap today. Or tomorrow. She glanced over at Meredith who looked sympathetic. Back at Mark, who-stunningly enough-also looked sympathetic. But no longer on the hunt. Success.
Derek shifted on his feet, and his voice filled the silence. “Since you two are here without a car, why don’t you let me drive you home? That way we can talk.” And even Izzie could tell the message his eyes telegraphed to Meredith meant the conversation would not be put off.
Meredith walked outside with Derek and Izzie, as Mark took a seat at the bar, good-naturedly debating Joe on the merits of Interleague Play. Or maybe not so good-naturedly, as his comments about pitchers who didn’t hit weren’t playing real baseball became intensely vehement. The door closed behind them before they could hear Joe’s defense of the American League.
Meredith smiled, remembering the ferocity of East Coast baseball fan, and looked up at Derek. “Mets fan?”
Derek shook his head, a perplexed look on his face. “No. Yankees. Die-hard. Which means he’s just picking this fight with Joe.”
Meredith shook her head. She liked Mark. She couldn’t help but like someone so much like herself. But his need to compete over everything really has to stop. Only a few months ago, he had been telling her to forget about Derek. That he was damaged, that Derek was a poisoned well. And Derek made jokes about being dull and lifeless with me, when we were taking it slow. How is he dull and lifeless?
The sound of his car locks popping up interrupted her thoughts, and she smiled at Derek as he opened the passenger side door for her. Their eyes met. His eyes are sad. I make him miserable. Her right hand twitched; she wanted to slide her finger along his cheekbone, caress his jaw, bring a thumb alongside his mouth. But she knew-touching him would lead to never letting go.
She probably should let him go.
But I need him. So far. . .it isn’t enough. We’ve just had moments, and it isn’t enough.
Breaking the tension between them, she slid into the passenger seat and pulled the seatbelt across her body. Derek moved some old journals and texts around in the back seat to make room for Izzie before circling the car and getting in himself. When he shifted into reverse, he turned his whole body to look behind them, draping his arm behind Meredith as he did so. And his casual touch gently reminded her of what they could have, of easier times. Dammit. He was right, they needed to talk. But this conversation had been put off for so long-almost a year really, because they were about to discuss The Rules the night Addison showed up, all polished and sharp-edged. If they’d had the conversation then, they might not be having it now. A lot of things might have been different. This conversation. . .it was important. It was their whole relationship, sink or swim, do or die, have or have not. To be or not to be. All of it, the essence of her year of loving Derek, could be boiled down and concentrated to this. A conversation.
And she couldn’t talk. She had no words. She didn’t have the words, she didn’t have the breath, she didn’t have the tools that it would take to have this conversation.
Derek pulled up on his parking brake and turned off the engine. Izzie poked her face up between the front seats.
“Thanks for the ride, Derek. I’m going on in.” Derek nodded, and Meredith watched her friend walk up the front steps.
She licked her dry lips. Swallowed. Looked at him. Oh, God. I can’t think when he is looking at me.
And he was looking right back at her, with the eyes. And the hair, his hair was begging for her fingers to run through it. And his smile, soft smile, soft lips. Waiting.
“Mer? Let’s get out of the car.”
Derek watched her graceful movements as she turned to open her door. He sat for another moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose, before pulling the key out of the ignition and opening his own door. He followed her up the slight hill to the porch, seeing the tension in her movements. The porch light was off, and even though a light filtered through from the back of the house, his sight of her was limited to silhouette. The wooden porch steps creaked under his feet.
“Meredith. Come sit down.” He gestured to the porch swing. Come on, Meredith. Come on. Talk to me. I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere until we talk, until we figure this out. She sat down and brought one knee to her chest, folding her arms and resting her chin on top. Her hair fell forward, escaping from behind her ears to hide her face. As she settled into place, her other toe kicked off of the ground and the swing moved. Really moved. He’d been meaning to look at it, see if all it needed was a good cleaning, but had never gotten around to it. He’d pictured them sitting there on autumn evenings, talking. He’d never pictured them sitting there on a summer night, him scared dry that she really did mean what she said last night to him.
“You’re swinging.” His voice sounded off to him, sounded hoarse.
“Yeah,” Meredith answered. “I’m swinging. My dad fixed it that night after dinner. But he didn’t fix it, because it wasn’t broken. He had put a nail in it, to keep it from swinging before, when I was little, because I used to get my fingers pinched.”
“You used to get your fingers pinched.” Derek echoed.
“Yeah, and when he said it, I remembered it, I think I did at least. I’d poke my fingers in to push the swing from the side, and really get hurt. So the nail was there to protect me, but we didn’t realize that, so we couldn’t use the swing. Until now.” She looked up at him, brushing her hair back, away from her face. He realized that she’d been crying. “He pulled out the nail. So we can use the swing.”
Derek sat down next to her, taking her into his arms. She leaned against him, warm against his body. His foot flat against the floor, he pushed the swing back and let it go. They sat, swinging.
“Derek?” Her voice, muffled against his shirt, broke his heart. He pushed her chin up gently with two fingers until she was looking at him. Or would be, if her eyes weren’t looking down. At least her mouth was clear of his shirt so her words would be clear. He waited.
She still didn’t lift her eyes, but his fingers kept her chin in place. He could feel her breathing, feel as she gathered her courage, feel as she found words to say, feel her find the strength to say them.
“I’m scared.” With those two words, she blew him away. Because for her, admitting she was scared, admitting a weakness, admitting her fear-those things added up to a huge hole in her armor. And she was saying it to him.
She’s letting me in.
“You’re scared,” he echoed.
“I don’t know how to work this.” She still wouldn’t look at him, but that was fine. She was talking.
“You don’t know how to work this. The swing?” He was joking, and knew as soon as the words left his mouth that it could stop her, was terrified that it would. But all she did was swat him and give an almost-giggle.
“No, asshole. I can swing. It’s the relationship. I don’t know how to work the relationship.” She sighed. “It’s hard. I didn’t think it was supposed to be this hard.”
“It is hard,” he agreed. “It’s been hard for both of us.”
He nudged the porch floor again to keep the swing going.
“I didn’t get the book on this. The handbook, the relationship instruction manual. I don’t know how to do it, and I’ve been trying.” Her voice gained intensity, and her eyes finally met his. “Derek, please believe me. I have been trying.”
And even if he didn’t know, hadn’t been reminded how hard her week was, the honesty in her face and voice would have convinced him.
“You have.” And he nodded.
He could tell she was about to come out with something else. Something big. Could tell from the way she would take a breath, start to let it out, catch it, and then blow it out. Could tell from the way she was pursing her lips.
So he waited.
And again, she gathered her courage up around her, put it on, looked away from his eyes.
“DerekIwantyoutocomewithmetomorrow.” Again, her breath all rushed from her in a whoosh.
“You want me to come. . .where?”
“To see Susan. Burson. With me. Together. To help us.” He could tell how hard this was, and that it was getting harder, as her jaw clenched tighter and her eyes filled, blinking faster to keep the tears from falling.
Couple's therapy. Are we still a couple? Is that what she’s saying? He didn’t like the idea of couple's therapy, hadn’t seen success when he’d gone with Addison. . .but this was Meredith. And yes, it was hard.
But she was worth it.
“What time?” His throat seemed to be blocked, but he coughed and repeated the words. “What time is your appointment?”
And now she looked at him, unsure of his answer but wanting to hope. “It’s at one, right after lunch.”
He nodded.
“I’ll be there.” And she smiled.
“You’ll be there.”
They sat together. Swinging. He realized that she had fallen asleep, but when he started to move her to put her to bed, she woke enough to tell him goodnight and let herself inside. Without a kiss, but as he thought on the drive home, he became convinced that she had wanted one. But it was hard. And she was scared.
And so am I.
1: I don't go to therapy to find out if I'm a freak
2: I go and I find the one and only answer every week
3: And it's just me and all the memories to follow
4: Down any course that fits within a fifty-minute hour
5: And we fathom all the mysteries, explicit and inherent
6: When I hit a rut, she says to try the other parent
7: And she's so kind, I think she wants to tell me something
8: But she knows that its much better if I get it for myself.
9: Oooooooh, aaaaaaah, what do you hear in these sounds?
10: I say I hear a doubt and a voice of true believing.
11: And the promises to stay, and the footsteps that are leaving.
12: And she says 'Oh', I say 'What?' She says 'Exactly,'
13: I say, ‘What, you think I’m angry?
14: 'Does that mean you think I'm angry?'
15: She says, 'Look, you come here every week
16: With jigsaw pieces of your past
17: It's all on little sound bites
18: And voices out of photographs
19: And that's all yours, that's the guide, that's the map
20: So tell me, where does the arrow point to?
21: And who invented roses?
Timeline: Post Season 3 finale
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but if Shonda doesn't quit bending them in ways they weren't meant to bend, I might have to confiscate them.
Summary: Later that evening, at Joe's Emerald City Bar. . .
Rating: PG-13
Two men sat in the back booth of The Emerald City Bar. Two drinks, exactly the same, sat on the table: double scotch, single malt. And neither one of the men had said a word.
Mark watched Derek pick up his drink, sip it, grimace, then put it back on the table. Mark had dragged him here, told him that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. But now, Mark didn’t know what to say. Or whether to say anything at all.
Because, seriously, their friendship was about 24 hours old, and if they were becoming friends again, he didn’t want to wreck it. But he remembered Derek’s slumped body, crushed posture and broken expression as he waited in that hallway the day of the ferry crash. He remembered the tears, the despair. The giving up. If Meredith dying had that effect on him, he wasn’t going to stand by and watch the two of them screw up just because they didn’t know how the other operated. They don’t speak the same language.
Derek tapped his fingers staccato on the glass. Mark saw that his eyebrows were drawn in, in anticipation of whatever would be said.
“Derek. I know you don’t like me much. And you don’t trust me. But you can trust Meredith. You just don’t get her, or you would trust her.”
Now Derek’s eyebrows lifted in faux surprise. “Oh. And I suppose that you are Mr. Sensitivity; you are the one that really gets her.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I get her.” I’ve known her my entire life.
Derek shook his head. “You are an ass, Mark. A complete and total ass. This time, you definitely know that she’s mine.”
Mark laughed. “Don't worry about me. She’s yours, yes. But you don’t get her. You don’t know what makes her tick. You need me. I’m your Rosetta Stone.”
Narrowing one eye, Derek gestured for Mark to keep going.
“I speak Shepherd, the language of a family that was relatively functional and happy. But luckily for you, I also speak the language of Grey, because it’s just a dialect of Sloan, really. And we all know that Sloan is the official language of dysfunction. For you, it’s so foreign, it might as well be Farsi. You don’t have a clue, you can’t even ask for directions to the john.” Mark paused.
“What the hell are you talking about?” The frustration on Derek’s face was evident to someone who had known him most of his life. And Mark had, so he slowed down, trying to choose his words carefully.
“You can either listen to me, Derek, or go it on your own. But remember when you were determined to speak French in France? And asked for directions in that café, and they sent you all around the city, when your hotel was right next door?”
Derek guffawed and flashed Mark a twist of a smile. “I still say that was just an example of French hospitality. They knew what I was saying.”
“You might as well have been asking for the moon. They didn’t have a clue about what you wanted, what you were saying. And neither does Grey.”
Derek exhaled, blowing out his cheeks as he nodded. “I get it. You want to translate Meredith. But you forget, I speak girl. I believe you know my sisters?”
Mark smirked. “Yes. Some better than others.”
“Thin ice, buddy. Thin.” Derek’s voice was a growl, so Mark decided to shut up about Derek's sisters.
“Derek, let’s play word association. I say a word, you let it bring up whatever images it will. Here’s the first word: Christmas.”
“Christmas?”
“Yeah. Think about Christmas time when you were a kid. You probably get some mental image of midnight Mass and heaps of presents under the tree. Maybe a family dinner, table groaning with your mom and grandmother’s best efforts. Am I right?” Mark knew he was, but waited for Derek to respond.
“Right, but that’s true for most people, isn’t it?” Derek was puzzled. Everyone had memories of Christmas, and his weren’t any more idyllic than anyone else’s.
“Not for me, not until I started spending Christmas Eve with the Shepherds. Probably not for Meredith, either.” Mark tossed back the remains of his drink. “I’m going to get another. You ready or are you still working that one?”
"I'm good." Derek took another sip, and Mark went for his next drink.
“One drink, and then I have to go. Granted, I don’t have any furniture to move, but checking out of a hotel after a several month stay is going to be unpleasant.”
“Right,” Callie quipped. “Just think of packing the shoes.” Addison laughed, and Callie thought to herself that she hadn’t heard her laugh like that in a long time. Like ever. Then Addison looked at Callie, really looked, and looked hard. Callie lifted her eyebrows in response.
“All right, what is it?” Addison’s face was concerned.
“What is what? I’m having a drink or two with my friend who is about to ditch me for the sunny skies of Los Angeles. That’s not allowed?”
“Oh, that’s allowed. Encouraged, even. But that’s not all that’s going on here. You are acting all twitchy and laughy and smiley.” Still with a skeptical concerned look, Addison tasted her wine, and nodded approval.
"Twitchy, Laughy and Smiley? Are those some extra dwarves you are planning to drop off at Disneyland?" Callie's reflex was to cover any discomfort with humor. It worked in the seventh grade, it should still work now.
But it didn't. Addison just looked at her, gave her a look that rivaled Bailey's.
“What? I can’t be twitchy and smiley?” Relax. Deep breaths.
“No, you can. But right now? You’re scaring me, because the twitchy laughy smiley is about as thick as a layer of paint. And it’s flaking off, and underneath is some scarey. So what is it?” Addison was like a dog with a bone, and Callie realized she wasn’t giving it up anytime soon. She sighed.
“Okay. This doesn’t get to take over our evening, because it just doesn’t. Clear?”
“Crystal.” Addison raised her glass in acknowledgement. “Do you want to put a time limit on how long you talk? Because we can do that.”
“Nope.” Callie shook her head. “I’ll just get it out in a rush and you can time me. Ready?”
“Ready. Aaaand. . .go!” Callie started talking as Addison signaled the start.
“The past couple of days have been a high holy hell. First, I get the freaking CR job, which I’m totally unprepared for. I wanted it, I’m not an idiot, but did I think I would get it? No, I thought Bailey had it sewn up in her perfect little mattress stitch. So I’m really feeling like everyone is looking at me thinking it should be her. And I am too." She paused.
"Also, I found out that George didn’t pass his intern exam. Which is completely a non-issue, because when he was trying to tell me, I thought he was trying to tell me about Stevens. So I bluffed. And won. Except I lost. I told him I knew he slept with Steven, and the idiot wasn’t quick enough to deny it. No wonder he failed his boards.”
Addison looked up from her watch. “It’s only been 38 seconds. I’d say you qualify for more time, if you want.”
“It’s not that I want it. It’s that I need it. George is repeating his intern year at Grace, so he’s in his first 48 right now. But before I left, he tracked me down and told me he wants to work it out. Wants to stay married. That he wants me.”
Addison’s eyes were full of pity, and Callie hated that. “Stop. Now. Don’t look at me like I’m a 13 year old patient telling you I want to keep the baby.”
‘What do you want?”
“I wanted to come in first. But I’m not there. I want to think that he really does want it to work. But I’m not sure. I’m not sure he does, but I think he thinks he should.” Callie pulled her mouth to one side, making a sour face.
Addison shook her head. “That. . .really sucks, Callie.”
Callie nodded. “Yeah. Yeah it does.”
Addison stood up. “We’re getting another round. It’s not like I absolutely have to check out tomorrow, do I?”
"You're the one ditching to go start something new, you tell me!" And Callie felt more relaxed; simply sharing her trouble had made it all seem a bit easier to bear.
The bells jangled to signal three more customers for Joe; Izzie took two steps into the bar and then spun on her toes, raising her hands in victory.
“Yay us! We made it through our first day of residency!”
She and Meredith took seats at the bar, while Alex ordered a round of beer. Joe took off the caps and served them, and the three of them clinked brown bottles together in their first toast.
“So. To our first day as residents.” Alex grinned like a kid who had brought home the winning run. The three of them drank, and he licked the trace of foam from his upper lip. Then he turned on his stool to face the woman on his right.
“Now spill it, Grey, how did you get along with your long-lost sister?”
Meredith’s head snapped up. She had tried to block that part of the day out. “Thanks for that. The walking away thing. Nice to know you’re there for me when it matters.” She glared at Alex.
“You left Mer alone with a sister? Are you insane?” Izzie’s eyes had widened, and her mouth actually was open in her amazement.
”You were all zombie for George, so you don’t have room to talk.” Meredith leaned over to include Izzie in her glare.
“Come on, Yang dragged me off.” Alex defended himself with his trademark smirk. “I gladly would have stuck around to meet Mini-Mer. Besides, you could chew her up and spit her out before she even knew what was happening. Then you could just pick your teeth with her bones.” He took another long pull from his beer.
“Alex! That is disgusting, seriously.” Izzie shoved him sideways on his stool. “Leave Meredith alone, she’ll tell us when she’s ready.” Meredith laughed a little. The look on Izzie’s face made clear that she was at least as interested as Alex in the sister-saga. She sighed, and gave up.
“Ok, short version, she’s like I would be if I didn’t have this black cloud of despair following me around everywhere.” Meredith wrinkled her nose as she thought about how to describe her sister. “She’s. . .nice. Happy.” She nodded, and then frowned. “But she’s sort of scattered all over the place. Sloppy. We’ll probably never be good friends, but it’s not like she’s Evil Incarnate.”
“So we won’t be seeing a Grey versus Grey cat fight anytime soon?” The eyebrow wiggle that Alex gave made Meredith laugh and shove him back toward Izzie.
“You wish, Alex.” Meredith looked down and tugged at the edge of the beer label.
“Alex, again with the grossness,” Izzie said, giving a fake shocked look.
“I did have to tell her she couldn’t offer to buy Derek any more drinks,” Meredith stated flatly.
“What?” Both Izzie and Alex appeared truly shocked by this.
Meredith nodded. “Yeah, the night before last, at the bachelor party, she tried to pick up Derek.”
“And you let her live?” Izzie was still shocked, shaking her head a little.
“It didn’t thrill me. But how could she know? He was just a guy in a bar, she was just a girl. I already knew, though. I’m glad he told me. Or I’d have to kill him.” Meredith looked into her beer bottle instead of at her friends, still worrying at the label of her beer.
“You knew? Is that why you broke up with him?” Izzie was still digging for the latest news on the Meredith front.
“Why I broke up with him?” Meredith’s head snapped up and her eyebrows crinkled her forehead. “I didn’t really break up with him. I don’t think I broke up with him.” She shook her forehead and said firmly, “We’re in a holding pattern, sort of. Like flying in circles, waiting to land in breakup or not break up, but either way, it’s not about Lexie. I don’t think.”
Izzie and Alex looked at each other, confused. Alex rolled his eyes, and then lifted his beer again.
“What am I thinking, here’s another toast. To our fallen comrade, George.”
“Please. Be nice.” Meredith’s eyes were sad as she looked at him.
“No, dude, I mean it. He has this perseverance thing. He gets kicked in the nads over and over and just gets up and keeps going.” The bottle was still lifted, waiting for someone to clink in a toast to the O’Malley doggedness. None of them noticed that Callie was on Izzie’s other side, waiting for Joe to serve up another round.
“Okay, even though you put it in filthy dirty Evil Spawn words, I think you’re right. He’s going to make it.” Izzie lifted up her bottle and clinked with Alex.
“He damn sure is trying. You’ve got to respect that. I wanted to give up when I failed my practicals. You guys wouldn’t let me. He’s got a good thing with Dr. Mrs. O’Malley. And they're making it.” And Meredith nodded, raised her bottle, and the three of them drank to George.
Callie stood there, almost as if she wanted to say something to the three of them. Then she shook her head, and took the new drinks back to her booth.
When Derek heard Meredith’s laugh from across the bar, his head snapped up and he started to leave the booth. To Mark, it looked like some sort of magnetic force compelled him to track the girl down. He reached out and grabbed Derek’s arm.
“Wait.”
Derek looked at him angrily. “What do you mean, wait? Why the hell should I wait? We’re supposed to talk tonight.”
Mark shook his head. “Derek, she’s relaxed. She’s had a rough day, a rough week. Let her relax a little bit longer. She didn’t laugh once today.” Derek’s face grew sad, and he turned in his seat to catch a glimpse of Meredith.
“She’s scared, Derek.”
That got his attention. He whipped his head around to face Mark.
“Why the hell is she scared of me? I would never do anything to hurt her. Not intentionally.”
“No. Not intentionally, you wouldn’t. But you’re both hurt right now, and easing up a little can only do you good. She just got here. There’s lots of time for us to talk.”
Derek sighed as he lifted his glass. He took a long swallow of scotch, and then asked, “What should we talk about?”
“Let’s talk about why you turned down being Chief.”
When Callie got back to the booth, she flopped down across from Addison. She took a deep breath, and exhaled loudly, making a rather rude noise as she did so. Then she giggled.
“Am I horrible if I don’t take him back? He’s a good person, and I should take him back, but if I don’t want to, does that make me horrible?” The giggles had stopped, and she was looking at Addison for absolution, something that Addison believed that she had no business giving to anyone.
“It doesn’t make you horrible,” Addison said slowly, “but it does make me wonder why you married him such a short time ago.”
“Sometimes I wonder that myself.” Callie was playing with the salt shaker, sliding it from one hand to another. She gave it a slightly-too-hard push, and it toppled over, spilling some grains. Predictably, Callie leaned forward and touched a few to her finger. Then she stopped.
“I can’t remember. Do I toss this over my left shoulder with my right hand, or right shoulder with left? Do you remember?” Callie looked more distressed over this question than she did over forgiving her adulterous husband.
Addison snorted. “Why is it that surgeons are as superstitious as any old wife could be? Not that we’re old wives, of course.”
“Addison, why are you leaving?” Callie was dead serious now. “You’re finally making a home here. Well not a home, because you’re still staying at the Archfield. But you have friends. You have people who care. And you’re tossing it out the window. Why?”
“I need to get away from this place. I need to go somewhere I’m not known as the Wicked Witch of the East, where people don’t hate me because I ruined the romance of the century.” Addison stopped, rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine, then used the glass to gesture. “I deserve to be loved or hated on my own terms. Not because I’m the former Mrs. McDreamy or the former mistress of McSteamy.”
“So this doesn’t have anything to do with you sending Karev after Ava?” Callie asked slyly, raising her eyebrow.
“How did you know about that?” Addison demanded.
“I am Callie the All Knowing.” The stare that Callie gave back with that statement was. . .unusual, Addison decided. She stared back, until she lost that battle and went back to destroying the cocktail napkin that came with her wine.
“I just thought he deserved to be with someone carrying less baggage. Because that’s all I have, baggage.” She looked back at Callie, grateful that her friend had lost the odd look.
“You know, Addison, there are different ways of looking at baggage. You’ve got some people, and their baggage is dead weight around their necks; they spend their lives looking after it. And then other people, they cram their baggage full of souvenirs, until the bags overflow with what’s best from where they’ve been. Their bags are just as full, but they look at them as a gift.” Callie stopped talking, and looked slightly confused at her own words. Addison looked at her, raising one eyebrow.
“Holy shit, do I sound like a Blue Mountain greeting card or what?” Callie’s laughter was bubbling through her words.
“Was that more of Callie the All Knowing?” Addison looked skeptical.
”Come on, you have to admit, that was pretty profound. In a Dr. Phil sort of way, at least.” Then they both lost it, laughing loudly enough that the rest of the bar could hear them.
Derek sat for a few moments, spinning his glass. “Why did I turn down the position of chief.” His voice was quiet, murmuring. He looked up at Mark, a half-smile on his face.
“You know the joke about the most important thing in comedy?”
Mark shook his head. “No, I don’t. Drunk after a drink and a half?”
Shaking his head, Derek asked, “No. I’m not drunk. And how did you find out that I had turned down chief?”
“I may have only been here a few short months, but I do have friends in this hospital. Who gossip.” Mark’s smirk faded. “So tell me, what’s the most impor-“
“Timing,” Derek interrupted. Mark laughed, getting the joke as Derek continued, “Timing is the most important thing in comedy. The timing right now sucks.”
Mark looked at him, confused. “What’s going on now that won’t be going on in a couple of months?”
“I don’t know. This is just. . .hard. Harder than I thought it would be.” Derek leaned back in the booth and looked at the ceiling.
“Derek, you may possibly be the laziest person in love I’ve ever met.” Mark said. “That’s why I don’t do relationships, because they aren’t easy.” He finished off the last sips of his drink, then pushed the empty over to Derek. “This round’s on you.”
Derek pushed it back. “You’re the one who said we had to come out here. Go get us another round.” Mark smirked, but headed back to the bar.
The three former interns sat at the bar, exchanging toasts and lighthearted insults. As they talked one over the other, they laughed frequently and loudly. Only a keen observer who knew each of them well would notice they weren’t really happy. The two people who fit that description were both back at the hospital, ignoring their own troubles to take care of patients. Mark eyed them as he approached the bar; he knew Meredith and could sense her misery, but the other two were a mystery to him. He stood beside the blonde doctor-model, and waited for Joe to finish pouring the next round of scotch.
He nodded. “Stevens.”
“Dr. Sloan.”
Mark was ignoring her. That’s what he’d been doing all night long, ignoring her. No, ignoring her implied that he’d noticed her. And he never had noticed her, not when she had her hand on his patient’s pec (and the other on that asshole Karev’s, what the hell was that about anyway?), not when she refused to fold under his crap and be a suck-up, and not when she had drilled a hole in some guys brain using a Sears Craftsman drill, like she was some kind of hero. No, she's not even a blip on my radar.
He was just glad to know that Derek had his back to the bar. Shep didn’t need to see Grey or be applying the pressure right now. Because really, Grey was looking pretty nice tonight, though obviously miserable.
Like Stevens. He wasn’t wondering why Stevens would be looking miserable, no he wasn’t. Because that would mean he had noticed. And he wasn’t sure what he would do if he had noticed. Because he had a weakness, a weakness for women with sad brown eyes.
He chalked it up to the next door neighbors’ beagle that he used to take care of when they went on vacation. Damn dog could get under my skin like nothing else.
Where the hell is Mark with my drink? Derek knew he didn’t need another, didn’t really want another. In his current mood, too much alcohol was a dark pit, just waiting for him to stumble. He turned around to tell Mark not to bother. But Mark was walking away from the bar, to the booths on the other side. Derek saw him approach Addison, who was laughing it up, grabbing her purse and scooting out of the booth she shared with Callie.
And then he saw her.
Deep purple sweater. Her hair catching the lights from the bar. A melancholy smile curving the beauty of her lips. His Meredith. Their eyes met, and he got up from the bar to go talk to her. To reassure her. To tell her that he didn’t want to be another thing on her list, another problem for her to solve. This problem was theirs to solve together. She could want to run; she probably would run. Hell, he’d probably want to run a time or two himself. But if what had already happened between them this year hadn’t driven them apart, they could figure this out. Can’t we?
If we can’t, then there’s really no such thing as soulmates.
He walked up to her, smiling. And practically grinning when she smiled back.
“Hey. You look. . .nice.” She ducked her head and smiled at the compliment.
“Thanks.” She glanced over at Alex and Izzie, who were watching Mark and Addison have some sort of discussion. “Do you know what’s going on over there? That’s kind of intense.”
Derek shook his head. “I haven’t a clue. Addison has been making noises about leaving the hospital. That’s why I was at the trailer this morning, I drove out there to look for her CV.”
“Ladies, are you leaving before I have the chance to buy you a drink?” Mark loaded his question with naughty intent, and gave them a lopsided grin. Callie rolled her eyes, but looked at Addison to respon
When she did, her voice was soft. “Mark, I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you all day.” She and Callie exchanged glances, and Callie nodded.
“I’ll just,” Callie pointed to the bar, “I’m waiting over there.” Then, as she saw who was over there, she amended, “or in the car.”
Addison nodded again and whispered her thanks. Then she looked back up to Mark.
“Remember the trip I made to L.A. a week ago?” Her voice gently caressed Mark’s ear and promised to be kind. “I’m going back down there in the morning.”
“They need another consult from you? How long will this one take?” Mark cocked an eyebrow at her. What is she running from this time?
“No, Mark,” she answered. “I’m moving. Actually checking out of the hotel room and driving down. I might just do something wild and crazy like buy a house, rent an apartment. Discover some stability.”
“Wait a minute.” Mark grabbed her upper arm tightly. “You’re leaving Seattle Grace? And what, if I hadn’t come over here tonight, how were you planning on telling me? Sending me an e-mail?” His tone was vicious, and he knew that she didn’t deal well with anger. But. . .he wasn’t. Not really. Hurt, yeah, disappointed, yeah. But there’s no newsflash here. Just a reminder, you’re still not what she wants.
“Mark, I wanted to tell you. And it wouldn’t be an e-mail. As soon as I get settled, you can. . .well, come visit. As a friend.” The two of them were walking to the door of the bar. The doctors sitting at the bar were all looking at them questioningly.
“You told Derek?” Mark’s voice was gruff.
Addison sighed and closed her eyes. “No. Don’t you think we’ve said all the goodbyes we need to say, me and Derek?”
“No,” answered Mark, and gestured for Derek to join them, waited a moment for him to get near. “Tell him, Addison.”
“Tell him what?” asked Derek.
“Tell you I’m leaving. That’s why I needed my CV this morning, because I’ve put in my resignation and I’m leaving Seattle Grace.”
“You’re joining Naomi and Sam’s practice, right?” guessed Derek.
Addison smiled and nodded. Derek reached out and gave his ex-wife a hug. “Tell them I said hello. And if you’re feeling very generous, I’ll come down and visit.”
Addison laughed. “I’ll have to be feeling very generous. Although stranger things have happened, Derek.” She turned around and looked at the Emerald City Bar, scene of so many troubles for her in the last year. “No offense, Joe,” she called out. “But I won’t miss this place. You, I’ll miss. But not your bar.”
Joe saluted her with a newly-opened bottle. “Thanks for my babies, Dr. Montgomery. And you’d better come back to visit.”
She turned and smiled at both Derek and Mark. “Goodbye, guys.” Derek bussed her cheek, then returned to Meredith at the bar. Mark watched him go, and then turned back to Addison.
“You and Karev. What did he do to you that you want to go?” he asked, voice tight. Although he knew there was no more hope for him and Addison, (and was actually somewhat relieved by that), the thought that another man had touched her, much less hurt her, wounded him.
A lot.
Addison lost her smile for a moment, and then pasted it back on. “Mark, there never was a me and Karev. I don’t know what you. . .or maybe I do. But there never was anything real. I was. . .” she thought for a moment, then continued. “I was wrong. It didn’t really exist.”
She brushed a kiss against his cheek, pulled from his arms, and left. Mark stood in the entry to the bar, listening to bells jangling as the door shut behind her.
Mark tried to calm himself. Addison was a grown woman, she could make all of her own decisions. Except she wasn’t. She couldn’t. She’d been as wounded as any of them this past year, maybe more than he had been. And Karev had obviously taken advantage of that, thought he’d rack up an easy score.
Mark turned and moved to the bar in two strides, seeking out Alex Karev. He stood, seething, until the younger man spoke.
“Can I help you, Dr. Sloan?” Alex took a sip of his beer, but focused his eyes on the attending.
“Can you help me? Can you help me?” Mark’s anger was forced out of him in a growl. “Yeah, you can help me. You can go find Addison Montgomery and fix it.”
Alex’s eyebrows wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “Fix it?”
“You hurt her. I don’t know what went on between the two of you in that supply closet, and I don’t care to know. But you need to fix it. Fast. She’s leaving, so you’re on a time crunch.”
Alex shook his head. “I didn’t hurt her,” he said, not meeting Mark’s eyes. “I saved her. She doesn’t need someone like me.”
Seriously? Could he be more idiotic?
Mark inhaled through his nose and slowly exhaled, wanting to find his happy place. Then he swung his arm around Alex’s neck and walked with him across the bar. His tone was firm, but somehow friendly.
“Karev. Get your ass over to her hotel. Talk to her. And fix it. If you can’t figure out what you did wrong, drop a pair, and ask.” Mark finished escorting Alex to the door, and gave him a gentle shove outside. He had turned back to face the bar when Alex poked his head back in.
“Someone’s going to have to get those two home, because I’m their driver. And neither Shepherd nor Sloan better be at my house when I get there!” Alex’s tone wasn’t quite as confident as he probably wanted, and Mark grinned before turning back around.
“Karev! A boy shouldn’t worry about what the men do. Now move!” Alex glared, but moved. Meredith and Izzie giggled at each other, surprised that their friend would let himself be bossed around so easily.
“What?” asked Mark innocently. “I just made him do what he wanted to do all along. He’s been moping all night.”
Izzie continued to giggle as Mark came to join them at the bar. She leaned over and whispered to Meredith, “Now that? Was well worth the price of admission. Who would have ever thought that Alex would make a play for the gynie patrol!”
Meredith crinkled her nose and whispered back, “You’d think they would realize that Mark’s like the Obi-Wan to Alex’s Anakin.”
Izzie considered that for a moment, and then snorted. “Does that mean Mark just pushed Alex into the volcano?” The two of them laughed until they snorted and wiped away tears at that characterization of Addison, then Izzie finished off her beer. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Mark. He was looking right at her, taking his time as he walked to the bar. He stood next to her, leaned back and grinned.
“How about I buy you another drink, Stevens?”
Izzie’s laugh sounded startlingly bitter, even to her own ears.
“Don’t go there, Sloan. You don’t want to go there.”
“What?” he asked, again assuming his innocent posture. “I’m just trying to make a new friend, is there anything wrong with being friendly?”
Izzie put on her meanest look. And while she knew she was no Cristina Yang, she hadn’t been the weakest link growing up in the Canterbury Fields trailer park. She could do mean. She didn’t like to do mean, but like her grandmother used to say, needs must when the devil drives.
And there was nothing angelic about Mark Sloan.
“The only thing wrong with being friendly with me, Dr. Sloan, is that just today I got the professional opinion that whenever I get to be your kind of friends with a man, I end up believing that I’m in love with him. You ready for that ride?”
She had everyone’s attention. Crap. The couple drinking down the bar looked curiously at her, while the three nurses in the nearest booth had just skipped curious and were laughing their asses off. Dammit. That wasn’t planned. She just wanted to scare off Sloan, so he’d leave her alone. She didn’t need to deal with his crap today. Or tomorrow. She glanced over at Meredith who looked sympathetic. Back at Mark, who-stunningly enough-also looked sympathetic. But no longer on the hunt. Success.
Derek shifted on his feet, and his voice filled the silence. “Since you two are here without a car, why don’t you let me drive you home? That way we can talk.” And even Izzie could tell the message his eyes telegraphed to Meredith meant the conversation would not be put off.
Meredith walked outside with Derek and Izzie, as Mark took a seat at the bar, good-naturedly debating Joe on the merits of Interleague Play. Or maybe not so good-naturedly, as his comments about pitchers who didn’t hit weren’t playing real baseball became intensely vehement. The door closed behind them before they could hear Joe’s defense of the American League.
Meredith smiled, remembering the ferocity of East Coast baseball fan, and looked up at Derek. “Mets fan?”
Derek shook his head, a perplexed look on his face. “No. Yankees. Die-hard. Which means he’s just picking this fight with Joe.”
Meredith shook her head. She liked Mark. She couldn’t help but like someone so much like herself. But his need to compete over everything really has to stop. Only a few months ago, he had been telling her to forget about Derek. That he was damaged, that Derek was a poisoned well. And Derek made jokes about being dull and lifeless with me, when we were taking it slow. How is he dull and lifeless?
The sound of his car locks popping up interrupted her thoughts, and she smiled at Derek as he opened the passenger side door for her. Their eyes met. His eyes are sad. I make him miserable. Her right hand twitched; she wanted to slide her finger along his cheekbone, caress his jaw, bring a thumb alongside his mouth. But she knew-touching him would lead to never letting go.
She probably should let him go.
But I need him. So far. . .it isn’t enough. We’ve just had moments, and it isn’t enough.
Breaking the tension between them, she slid into the passenger seat and pulled the seatbelt across her body. Derek moved some old journals and texts around in the back seat to make room for Izzie before circling the car and getting in himself. When he shifted into reverse, he turned his whole body to look behind them, draping his arm behind Meredith as he did so. And his casual touch gently reminded her of what they could have, of easier times. Dammit. He was right, they needed to talk. But this conversation had been put off for so long-almost a year really, because they were about to discuss The Rules the night Addison showed up, all polished and sharp-edged. If they’d had the conversation then, they might not be having it now. A lot of things might have been different. This conversation. . .it was important. It was their whole relationship, sink or swim, do or die, have or have not. To be or not to be. All of it, the essence of her year of loving Derek, could be boiled down and concentrated to this. A conversation.
And she couldn’t talk. She had no words. She didn’t have the words, she didn’t have the breath, she didn’t have the tools that it would take to have this conversation.
Derek pulled up on his parking brake and turned off the engine. Izzie poked her face up between the front seats.
“Thanks for the ride, Derek. I’m going on in.” Derek nodded, and Meredith watched her friend walk up the front steps.
She licked her dry lips. Swallowed. Looked at him. Oh, God. I can’t think when he is looking at me.
And he was looking right back at her, with the eyes. And the hair, his hair was begging for her fingers to run through it. And his smile, soft smile, soft lips. Waiting.
“Mer? Let’s get out of the car.”
Derek watched her graceful movements as she turned to open her door. He sat for another moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose, before pulling the key out of the ignition and opening his own door. He followed her up the slight hill to the porch, seeing the tension in her movements. The porch light was off, and even though a light filtered through from the back of the house, his sight of her was limited to silhouette. The wooden porch steps creaked under his feet.
“Meredith. Come sit down.” He gestured to the porch swing. Come on, Meredith. Come on. Talk to me. I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere until we talk, until we figure this out. She sat down and brought one knee to her chest, folding her arms and resting her chin on top. Her hair fell forward, escaping from behind her ears to hide her face. As she settled into place, her other toe kicked off of the ground and the swing moved. Really moved. He’d been meaning to look at it, see if all it needed was a good cleaning, but had never gotten around to it. He’d pictured them sitting there on autumn evenings, talking. He’d never pictured them sitting there on a summer night, him scared dry that she really did mean what she said last night to him.
“You’re swinging.” His voice sounded off to him, sounded hoarse.
“Yeah,” Meredith answered. “I’m swinging. My dad fixed it that night after dinner. But he didn’t fix it, because it wasn’t broken. He had put a nail in it, to keep it from swinging before, when I was little, because I used to get my fingers pinched.”
“You used to get your fingers pinched.” Derek echoed.
“Yeah, and when he said it, I remembered it, I think I did at least. I’d poke my fingers in to push the swing from the side, and really get hurt. So the nail was there to protect me, but we didn’t realize that, so we couldn’t use the swing. Until now.” She looked up at him, brushing her hair back, away from her face. He realized that she’d been crying. “He pulled out the nail. So we can use the swing.”
Derek sat down next to her, taking her into his arms. She leaned against him, warm against his body. His foot flat against the floor, he pushed the swing back and let it go. They sat, swinging.
“Derek?” Her voice, muffled against his shirt, broke his heart. He pushed her chin up gently with two fingers until she was looking at him. Or would be, if her eyes weren’t looking down. At least her mouth was clear of his shirt so her words would be clear. He waited.
She still didn’t lift her eyes, but his fingers kept her chin in place. He could feel her breathing, feel as she gathered her courage, feel as she found words to say, feel her find the strength to say them.
“I’m scared.” With those two words, she blew him away. Because for her, admitting she was scared, admitting a weakness, admitting her fear-those things added up to a huge hole in her armor. And she was saying it to him.
She’s letting me in.
“You’re scared,” he echoed.
“I don’t know how to work this.” She still wouldn’t look at him, but that was fine. She was talking.
“You don’t know how to work this. The swing?” He was joking, and knew as soon as the words left his mouth that it could stop her, was terrified that it would. But all she did was swat him and give an almost-giggle.
“No, asshole. I can swing. It’s the relationship. I don’t know how to work the relationship.” She sighed. “It’s hard. I didn’t think it was supposed to be this hard.”
“It is hard,” he agreed. “It’s been hard for both of us.”
He nudged the porch floor again to keep the swing going.
“I didn’t get the book on this. The handbook, the relationship instruction manual. I don’t know how to do it, and I’ve been trying.” Her voice gained intensity, and her eyes finally met his. “Derek, please believe me. I have been trying.”
And even if he didn’t know, hadn’t been reminded how hard her week was, the honesty in her face and voice would have convinced him.
“You have.” And he nodded.
He could tell she was about to come out with something else. Something big. Could tell from the way she would take a breath, start to let it out, catch it, and then blow it out. Could tell from the way she was pursing her lips.
So he waited.
And again, she gathered her courage up around her, put it on, looked away from his eyes.
“DerekIwantyoutocomewithmetomorrow.” Again, her breath all rushed from her in a whoosh.
“You want me to come. . .where?”
“To see Susan. Burson. With me. Together. To help us.” He could tell how hard this was, and that it was getting harder, as her jaw clenched tighter and her eyes filled, blinking faster to keep the tears from falling.
Couple's therapy. Are we still a couple? Is that what she’s saying? He didn’t like the idea of couple's therapy, hadn’t seen success when he’d gone with Addison. . .but this was Meredith. And yes, it was hard.
But she was worth it.
“What time?” His throat seemed to be blocked, but he coughed and repeated the words. “What time is your appointment?”
And now she looked at him, unsure of his answer but wanting to hope. “It’s at one, right after lunch.”
He nodded.
“I’ll be there.” And she smiled.
“You’ll be there.”
They sat together. Swinging. He realized that she had fallen asleep, but when he started to move her to put her to bed, she woke enough to tell him goodnight and let herself inside. Without a kiss, but as he thought on the drive home, he became convinced that she had wanted one. But it was hard. And she was scared.
And so am I.
1: I don't go to therapy to find out if I'm a freak
2: I go and I find the one and only answer every week
3: And it's just me and all the memories to follow
4: Down any course that fits within a fifty-minute hour
5: And we fathom all the mysteries, explicit and inherent
6: When I hit a rut, she says to try the other parent
7: And she's so kind, I think she wants to tell me something
8: But she knows that its much better if I get it for myself.
9: Oooooooh, aaaaaaah, what do you hear in these sounds?
10: I say I hear a doubt and a voice of true believing.
11: And the promises to stay, and the footsteps that are leaving.
12: And she says 'Oh', I say 'What?' She says 'Exactly,'
13: I say, ‘What, you think I’m angry?
14: 'Does that mean you think I'm angry?'
15: She says, 'Look, you come here every week
16: With jigsaw pieces of your past
17: It's all on little sound bites
18: And voices out of photographs
19: And that's all yours, that's the guide, that's the map
20: So tell me, where does the arrow point to?
21: And who invented roses?