Blood Brothers is a little idea that popped in my head in a random evening. It just wrote by itself after I watched the pilot of Chicago Fire and the song by Bruce Springsteen came on at the end. I immediately had this image of Derek and Mark in my head that wouldn't leave me alone so I had to write something about it.

Since next episode will be focused on the Twisted Sisters Meredith and Cristina, I believe our favorite non-brothers deserved a little one-shot of their own. It might be silly and simple and nothing really worth of your time, but it's here. I've been wanting to post a one-shot forever, but between Hope and 29 Years I have been so busy that it was hard scheduling the chapters, let alone have a one-shot fit in. It's a little jumbled together, rambly and not proof-readed by a serious Beta, it's just a bunch of thoughts, running through my head. Or maybe it was just me, processing the death of a fictional character, letting the whole thing sink in.

I hope that even if it's nothing life-altering, you will enjoy it. Thank you for stopping by! Let me know what you think of it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy, its wonderful characters and all the scenes mentioned here that appeared in the show. They belong to Shonda Rhimes and ABC. Blood Brothers belongs to Bruce Springsteen; I don't even own a guitar, how can I own the song?

We played king of the mountain out on the end
The world come chargin' up the hill, and we were women and men
Now there's so much that time, time and memory fade away
We got our own roads to ride and chances we gotta take
We stood side by side each one fightin' for the other
We said until we died we'd always be blood brothers

Now the hardness of this world slowly grinds your dreams away
Makin' a fool's joke out of the promises we make
And what once seemed black and white turns to so many shades of gray
We lose ourselves in work to do and bills to pay
And it's a ride, ride, ride, and there ain't much cover
With no one runnin' by your side my blood brother

On through the houses of the dead past those fallen in their tracks
Always movin' ahead and never lookin' back
Now I don't know how I feel, I don't know how I feel tonight
If I've fallen 'neath the wheel, if I've lost or I've gained sight
I don't even know why, I don't know why I made this call
Or if any of this matters anymore after all

But the stars are burnin' bright like some mystery uncovered
I'll keep movin' through the dark with you in my heart
My blood brother

I remember when I saw you the first time, Mark Sloan. You were taller than me and you were already cocky. Barely seven years old and you already had a flock of girls around you.

They were after your candy, your smirk and your truckful of cool toys.

I was scrawny and awkward and I had lived my whole life surrounded by girls, all of the pretty ones in our class ended up being only my friends.

Somehow, we became friends too, after we sat next to each other on the first day of third grade. We became inseparable. I wasn't me if you weren't with me. You came by my house, we hung out at yours when we grew up a little and my mother didn't freak out much when she knew we'd spent entire afternoons at home alone when we were barely twelve and your parents left you house keys.

We played together, we joked, we laughed, we discovered girls. Well, you discovered them, and you started sharing your experiences, I was happy to just live vicariously through you and your confidence.

You were the first one to suggest me how to cut and style my hair, because you knew they looked hideous. You were the one who got the girls, but I became the one that was able to keep them for more than one night. You didn't care about relationship like I did, even though you cared about me.

You told me straight away that Millie, my first girlfriend, wasn't going to be my happy ending.

You didn't really believe you'd have a family of your own someday. You had one, but not a great one. When we started sharing mine somehow you became an adoptive Shepherd. Our house wasn't going to be much more crowded than it already was, after all.

You were there on Sundays and during the holidays, when your parents worked. You were there to share the laughter and the pranks; you were there, holding me up when Dad died.

Through my mother's tears you stood tall and handed her a tissue, hugging her tightly and from the wise mouth of your twelve-year-old self you told her that Dad might be gone, but we were still there.

You stayed through it all.

I remember that night you slept over, a few weeks after Dad had died, when I woke up drenched in sweat and you remained awake for the rest of the night with me, talking about Meghan Foller of our English class and how you tried to 'woo' her, but she had turned you down. You pulled out comics and crosswords and you joked with me, not caring that I couldn't sleep because I kept picturing my Dad's last breath.

You were my brother in good and bad times, in sickness and in health. You were my best men and you ended up in bed with my wife, turning my life upside down.

When I moved to Seattle and met Meredith, I didn't know if I wanted to kill you or thank you. I guess life had a funny way to show that no matter what shit hits the fan, brothers will be brothers.

I punched you a few times being honest, but the only time you started the fight you broke my nose. I told Mom it was Weiss, so she wouldn't get mad at you and ground you. At the end of the day, I wasn't even mad, because we made up and you promised you'd fix it for free when you would become a world renowned plastic surgeon.

I knew, when you chose Plastics as your specialty, you didn't do it for the boobs and the asses only, even though you liked to cop a feel once in a while. You did it for the burnt patients and the girls and boys around the world who were scared to walk out of their doors because of their scars.

You were a good guy, Mark Sloan, and you'll be missed.

I sit on my deck, the deck you helped me put together -twice, because the first time it was askew- and I can't help but think how nice it could have been to share this cold beer with you. I can hear the squeals of our daughters inside the house and I keep wondering how much fun we would have had taking them to the zoo or hanging out at the park together.

I can just wonder now, because I'm quite sure you won't share those memories with me.

I can't swallow the lump in my throat, no matter how many gulps of beer I try to drink. It's just there, dangerous like an aneurysm. And you're not here anymore.

Rather stupid, uh?

I was older by three weeks, I was supposed to go first. I almost died twice in a two year span and I'm still here.

Life had brought us together, pulled us apart, then reunited us until you had to leave this world.

Mom said it's God's plan. That probably you did everything you had to do and life had simply to go on without you in it. I can hardly believe you were done, but I can't really argue with God and Mom, can I?

You know what? I'll still take Sofia to the park with Zola, pretend you're there with me, sitting in silence as we watch them grow and play and fight. They will fight at some point, right? I'll remind them that we used to fight too, a lot.

I'll tell them about the time you put Froggy in the microwave and I had to jump on you before you pushed start. I'll tell them of my broken noise and when I spilled milk on your favorite comic book.

We were still best friend.

They'll grow into pretty ladies and I'll make sure they will be wary of boys like you. I'll help them navigate through life and when the time will come I'll zip up their wedding gowns. I'll remind Sofia that you would have held her steadily as you walked her down the aisle, a smirk on your face, a sarcastic remark on your lips, a tear in your eyes because she wasn't going to be only yours anymore. I'll remind her everyday of who you were and I'll teach Zola who Uncle Mark was, so she will never forget you or Lexie.

It's surreal that this beer is still cold and I'm not freezing my ass off in the chilly Seattle evening.

It's crazy that you're not here, mocking me for my sleeve and my teaching position and the fact that I have more windows than walls in my house.

There's something not right in this world anymore and I have no idea how to fix it. It's like the time we built the uneven deck, you look at it and at a glance it looks fine, but when the beer bottle drops and starts rolling, you realize that it's not as even and pretty as you thought it would be.

"Derek!" you yell from a distance, throwing a football at me "C'mon!"

"You know I can't play football"

"I don't care, I need you to catch the ball. Please!" you beg and I can't say no to you when you beg, because you always helped me and I feel like I need to get back. Al least that's what Mom always taught me.

"Alright" I sigh and your smile reaches your ears.

It feels better catching your passes, for a moment I can even forget that Dad is dead and Mom is barely keeping it together. Sometimes we grab my sisters ans we all just go to the park so she can be alone and cry without us barging in.

"You can have fun a little Derek" you said seriously, after we have been passing each other the ball lazily for around a hour. "You can talk to me too, if you feel like it's too much"

"It still hurts" I admit and you smile sadly

"I know. But life goes on. Dad wanted you to live it. You can live it at your best and try to make him proud"

You said that to me when we were twelve.

I'll try to make you proud too and help Callie and Arizona raise Sofia in the best way I can. I will not be her father, but I can be the confident you would have been if you were still here.

I need you to guide me when I'll screw it up and I need you to keep an eye on me and Zola and Meredith.

They have a way of getting into trouble our girls, uh?

Oh and say hi to Dad, tell him I miss him.

Both of you, I miss both of you.

"Hey" a soft, familiar voice intrudes in my thoughts and I wipe away a tear from the corner of my eye, smiling to Meredith as a greeting back, my voice trapped in my throat.

She plops on the lawn chair next to mine and smiles back gently, her eyes misty too as she puts her glass of red wine on the table next to my still chilled beer. She's quiet and looks around, taking in the entire land, the sun setting and the first stars shining in the darkening sky.

I try to clear my throat, but all my rasping just gets lost in the cold air in between the trees.

Meredith doesn't mind it.

She wipes a tear of her own, holding out her hand to me. I automatically grab it and intertwine our fingers like my life depended on our hold.

"I miss her" she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper, but it wasn't hard to pick it up in the quiet of the evening.

"I miss him too" I reply.

"Sometimes, -" she begins, her voice trailing off "Do you feel like they're still around on some days, as you walk around the hospital? Like you're in a hallway and it feels like they've just brushed past you, running to answer a page"

"Yeah" I sigh, because I still tell the interns to go with Dr. Sloan when anything that requires a Plastic consult comes around.

"It's because somehow, they are"

I don't know how, or why she knows that, but I know that this is immensely comforting.

I watch as Meredith smiles at me and right in that moment, it feels like the beer and the wine on our table is meant to be shared with you and Lexie and Dad and George and I'm glad I built a deck big enough for all your souls to sit and share this beautiful sunset with us.

"Cheers" I hold up my beer in the air, clinking it with your imaginary one.

"Cheers" you'd smirk back, taking a huge gulp from the bottle.

Brothers, forever.