Disclaimer: All I own is this scene.

Chapter 1

You never thought yourself to be the man who crawled into a bottle to escape the world. You were better than that, stronger than that. You took what life threw at you and moved on. You always did.

But life has its ways of turning everything we've come to know and believe upside down and for the first time in your life, you finally understand what that means.

You sit here now, clutching the glass tumbler in front of you like a life raft, like it's the one thing keeping you from loosing all semblance sanity and in all honesty, it probably is. You meant to forget, you wanted to forget and at the time, alcohol seemed like the best solution. But you're well past your sixth glass (you lost track after that) and you're no closer to forgetting than you were before then. Still, that doesn't stop you and you throw back the remaining scotch in your glass and signal for another. Joe looks at you before sneaking a sideways glance at the man occupying the seat beside you at the bar. You scoff silently at Derek's Messiah complex. You were a grown man. You didn't need a baby-sitter. You just wanted to be left the hell alone.

He must've nodded his approval or just given up because Joe proceeds to pour you another glass. By this point, you're working hard to coordinate your movements and it takes all your concentration to raise the tumbler to your lips without sloshing the liquid all over yourself. Your vision's starting to blur and you've tuned out the noise behind you ages ago but somehow the one thing you came here to forget is still as clear as day. You still hear her laugh, smell her skin, see her face. You remember the last time you held her close, stroked her hair, kissed her temple. Every fiber of her being is still with you, still here but you know it's nothing but a memory. Because she isn't coming back no matter how many scotches you drink.

Somehow you've finished your drink again so you tap the glass and watch as Joe refills it without waiting for the go-ahead. Again, you work to lift the tumbler and take a swig of the now distasteful, amber liquid. Somewhere behind you, a familiar female voice breaks the relative silence of the bar but you're too zoned out to make sense of what she says so you ignore her and stare listlessly into your glass instead. A second voice answers, a man's, and it takes a firm shake of your shoulder for you to realize that it's Derek.

"Let's get you home, Mark." You know he's standing right next to you but oddly enough, his voice seems to come from far away, like he's yelling at you from across a football field.

You want to stay, you want to continue to drown yourself in alcohol but you don't have the strength or coordination to resist so you stagger to your feet and allow him to steer you out the door. Outside, the cold winter air hits your face, bringing you out of your alcohol-induced haze long enough to acknowledge the fact that Derek's walking you to his car. He leans you against the side while he fiddles with his keys and you take the moment to close your eyes against the harsh neon lights of Joe's bar.

"Get in." Derek says when he opens the door.

"No." you murmur, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

"Mark, get in the car."

"No!" you say a bit stronger, fighting the alcohol swimming in your veins. "I'm not…leaving…I…I can't…" You can't leave because leaving meant going back to an empty apartment without her and you can't deal with that. Not yet.

There's a brief silence and for a second, you think Derek's finally given up and decided to leave you alone. But then you hear him talking to someone and your annoyance rises at the bits of the conversation you manage to catch.

"…take the car…walk with him."

The female voice answers and this time you recognize it as Meredith's.

Derek says something in response but your sluggish brain has exceeded its capacity and you tune him out. The next thing you know, Derek's lifting your arm over his shoulders to support your weight as he proceeds to more or less drag you down the sidewalk.

A voice calls out.

Derek stops to look behind him and therefore so do you although everything you see is a blurry, incoherent mess.

"We're fine, Owen. Good night." With that, he turns both of you back around to continue down the street.

You stumble over your feet and you can tell Derek's struggling to keep you upright. "Le' go o' me…" you mumble but it comes out sounding like someone stuffed a wad of cotton in your mouth.

Derek pays no attention to you and just keeps walking with you in tow. Eventually, you manage to regain control of your legs although not without a great deal of concentration on your part. You seem to walk for miles, Derek half dragging you forward through the empty streets and slowly, due to the alcohol, biting cold, your tired body, or something else you can't quite place at the moment, you begin to forget but not in the way that you'd like. The streets start to blur together, passing cars are nothing but shadows rushing by. Time holds no meaning for you as does distance. You could've been walking in circles on the moon and it would've made no difference to you. The only thing that does manage to distinguish itself from the haze is her and you find little comfort in that. Because you were a coward. Because you had decided to wait. And you hate yourself for that.

"Callie." You hear your voice echo in your ears but it sounds foreign to you, rough, broken. "Callie! I need…I need t' talk t' her…I need to…" you mumble. Then you get an idea. Your clumsy fingers start to root around in your pockets. "Where's my phone?" You mutter unintelligible curses as you try to locate the device which you find in your jacket's inside pocket. Channeling all of your attention on the tiny buttons, you manage to dial her number and raise the phone to your ear. "She needs t' know…she…" She'll answer. She has to answer. But the line just rings a few times then stops, leaving you to hear nothing but silence.

A hand reaches over and gently lowers the phone and you realize Derek's still with you. "Come on, Mark." he says quietly. "Just keep walking."

And you do. But your mind is racing a hundred miles a minute. You don't understand. She should've answered. You should've heard her voice and yet all you heard was nothing.

"Where is she?" you ask no one in particular as you run your hands through your hair. "Callie! Callie, please! I have t' tell her…she has t' know…she…she has to…where is she?" You stagger ahead of Derek and start scanning the empty streets frantically like she'll come walking down one of them in a second. "Callie! I wanna see her! I wanna see her!"

Derek catches up to you and forces you to stop. "Mark, calm down."

"I want to see her!" you yell with everything you have in you, spinning around to grab Derek by the shoulders.

He looks at you for a moment, completely unfazed by your outburst. "Okay." he says finally. "Okay. We'll see her."

You let out your breath like a winded bull, grateful that Derek was finally listening to you. He steps away and takes out his phone, leaving you to lean heavily on a stop sign. You were going to tell her. You were going to tell her what you should've told her all those months ago. What you felt but were too afraid to say out loud. She was your best friend. You were good together and you didn't want to screw that up so you said nothing. And you paid for that now.

Just then, Derek tugs on your arm and you reluctantly leave your position next to the stop sign and duck into the cab that had appeared on the side of the road. Your cold, tired body immediately relaxes into the seat and you allow your head to fall back against the headrest, paying no attention to Derek as he gives the cabbie the address. The copious amounts of alcohol pumping through your veins begins to catch up to you and you offer little resistance when your eyelids start to close.

A/N: I'd love to hear any thoughts. :)