AN: So this was really random (and isn't very good), but I've been suffering from outrageous writer's block so everything I write at the moment is my attempt at punching through. If this is bad, let me know so I can take it down.
Disclaimer: not mine...
"Mark Sloan?" The boy asks as he climbs to his feet.
Mark raises his eyebrows. "Who wants to know?"
"I do," the boy says and rolls his eyes. He cocks his head and studies the man in front of him. "I need to talk to you."
"I've already met my pro-bono quota for the year," Mark says and starts to push past him.
"I'm not here for a consult," he says and leans so that he's blocking the door to Mark's office. "I need to talk to you."
"Look kid, I…" Mark says, his words dying on his lips as their eyes lock. He frowns. "Do I know you?"
"No," the boy scoffs. "But you're about to… Dad."
Mark blinks.
"Didn't you hear me?" The boy asks.
"Of course I did," Mark says as his eyes dart around the hall. "I'm just trying to find where Meredith is hiding so I can tell this damn joke is getting old."
"What joke?" The boy asks, staring at Mark apprehensively. "And who is Meredith?"
"The doctor who put you up to this," Mark says. "Where is-"
"Look, I don't know who Meredith the Doctor is or anything about some lame joke," the boy says. "I just came here to give you this and to let you know that I can take care of myself. I'll be seventeen in a few weeks and that's-"
"What is this?" Mark asks as the boy thrusts a sealed envelope into his hand. He quickly works the envelope open and pulls out the notebook paper stuffed inside.
"Look dude, I'm just trying to make my mom-"
But Mark has stopped listening to the boy- Adam, according to the letter in his hands- and is quickly scanning the familiar handwriting, growing more and more anxious as he quickly flips through the pages without really reading them. When he reaches the end he swallows heavily and lifts his eyes to Adam's and notices for the first time that the teenager's are the exact same color as his own.
"What'd she say?" Adam asks softly.
"She's…" He can't form the word.
Adam nods slowly as his gaze falls to the floor.
"When?"
"Two weeks ago," Adam says, blinking rapidly.
"How long…" Mark pauses to collect himself. "How long was she sick?"
"About a year." Adam takes a deep breath. "Look, can we not do this in the middle of the hallway?"
Mark nods as Adam pushes the door open and enters the office. Both of them collapse into chairs and Adam silently watches Mark as he tries to process what he's just been told.
"I…" Mark swallows heavily. "I don't even know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," Adam says. "My Uncle Pete-"
"Addison doesn't have a brother," Mark cuts him off.
"No, she didn't." Mark flinches at Adam's words. "But Pete was one of her best friend's. He's been there since I was born."
"Which was when, exactly?" Mark asks.
"We don't have to do this," Adam says shortly. "I told her I would bring that letter to you and that's it. I didn't promise to have some dramatic heart-to-heart or to sign us up for father-son baseball."
Mark stares at him.
"Can I go now?"
"No," Mark tells him. "I have questions."
Adam runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. "I really don't want to talk about her."
"I do," Mark says.
"Well I don't," Adam says, his voice steadily rising. "She's dead. Okay? She's dead and she's not coming back. She'll never scream at me to do my homework or make me breakfast in bed or tell me that she loves me again! I'll never see her again so why does it matter that I talk to you about her?"
"Because I want to," Mark shouts. "Because I need to."
"What do you care?"
"What do I care?" Mark scoffs and pushes out of his chair angrily. "She has been my first thought when I wake up and the last before I fall asleep for the past thirty years. I wanted to spend my life with her-"
"Then why didn't you?" Adam asks as he, too, gets to his feet.
"She didn't want me," Mark growls.
"She did," Adam tells him fiercely.
Mark glares at him. "You have no idea what she wanted."
"Yes I did," Adam says. "When I was eight I overheard her telling Aunt Naomi that you were the biggest mistake of her life. I cried that whole night because I thought she meant I was a mistake too. But in the morning when I asked her about it she pulled me into her bed and held me and told me that letting you go was the biggest mistake of her life. She said that having me was the best thing that could happen to her because, in a way, she got both of us."
Mark's face crumbles.
"When I was ten I caught her staring at a picture of you." Adams voice cracks. "And when she noticed me she pulled me over to her and she told me about that night on the Ferris-wheel at Coney Island when you-"
"Got stuck at the top," Mark says and closes his eyes. "We were up there for an hour."
"We went out on the beach and watched the stars for hours that night," Adam whispers. "And there was a shooting star… When I asked her what she wished for she shook her head and told me it wouldn't come true if she told me. But I caught her staring at that picture of you again before I went to bed that night."
"And then she got sick and she made me swear that I would find you and give you that letter." He gestures towards the letter lying on Mark's desk. "And I did."
Mark nods and wipes at his nose.
"So," Adam sighs, "what do we do now?"
"I…" Mark shook his head, unable to speak.
Adam bites his lip and starts towards the door. "My cell number is on the envelope. Naomi and I are staying at The Archfield for the rest of the week. Room 527."
Mark nods again as he fights to keep control of himself.
"Maybe we can hang some time," Adam suggests softly, "and go from there."
"Adam," Mark calls out a second later just as the door is swinging shut behind his son. "I want you to know that Addison, your mother, meant everything to me."
Adam smiles weakly. "She meant everything to me too."
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