What They Didn't See
A/N: I do not own Grey's Anatomy or the characters. I do however own the major plot to this story. The smaller plots such as medical stuff will come from the actual episodes, so as with the characters I do not own those either.
Summary:
The night Addison comes to Seattle, Meredith gets drunk and starts calling random phone numbers in hopes of finding someone to understand. After a few failed calls, she decides the next one will be the last one. Who picks up the pieces that Derek and Addison created from the already fragile Meredith Grey.
Chapter 1: Shattered
"So you must be the woman sleeping with my husband" Addison, Derek's wife, told me. Hearing those words was the last straw. I didn't break when my father left when I was five, because I thought my mother would take care of me. I didn't break when my mother constantly forgot about me in order to be an extraordinary surgeon because she was going to save lives. I started feeling the cracks in myself after the first thousand times Ellis Grey called me a disappointment. The cracks grew when she tried to commit suicide and I had to wait till she passed out due to blood loss because she wouldn't allow me to before she passed out. My teachers didn't see the coming disaster, the cracks slowly spreading, but I still didn't break. I made it through college with Ellis constantly telling me I would never amount to anything and that I was the biggest disappointment in her life. But that didn't break me. I started to repair myself throughout the adventures of "Death and Die" but they were still raw. My mother was diagnosed with Alzheimers, and most days has no idea who I am, but that didn't break me. I made it through medical school, something my mother said I'd never do. I finally got accepted as an intern at Seattle Grace Hospital, and thought I could finally mend all of my cracks. I fell in love with a one night stand, and was happy for once. The happiness was too good to be true, and the thing that finally broke me, Meredith Grey, is that the man I love lied, and instead of loving me, I was just some dirty mistress. That's what broke me. The one man I let myself love has a wife.
While I ran through my whole life processing the implications of the last few minutes, they continued fighting. After finally processing everything I turned around, walked out of Seattle Grace, and never looked back. I walked across the street to Jo's, and bought three bottles of Tequila. I caught a cab home while downing at least half of the first bottle. That's the downside of being almost broken for most of your life. When you are finally completely broken, you need more alcohol due to the tolerance you have built up. by the time I made it to the house, which I refuse to call home, I had already finished off one bottle and started the second. I some how made it up the stairs and started yelling at God. Once I had calmed down I dug out my laptop. I looked up the area code for New York City, and decided that I was going to call random numbers. I wanted to talk to someone who didn't know me, and therefore could not judge me. After several no answers, I decided the next one would be the last one. I also decided I was going to tell the person everything. All my life problems and issues. Someone needed to know the real broken Meredith Grey before she followed in her mother's foot steps, but without someone to save her.
"I am contemplating suicide" was the first words out of my mouth when the person on the other end of the phone answered.
"Um… who is this, and why are you contemplating suicide?" the man on the other end of the phone asked.
With that one question, I took it as an invitation to tell my whole story. "Because despite all the bad in my life, I finally let myself love someone, and it got me broken. It was a one night stand that continued, and I thought he loved me, but then his WIFE showed up and basically called me a whore." I ranted.
"At least you had an affair unknowingly. I slept with my best friend's wife, and he left her. Then we stayed together, but now she's left me after aborting my child to work out her marriage. So I can definitely see the appeal of suicide," he agreed with my earlier statement.
"So we're the merry band of dirty mistresses," I chanted while turning on some mopey music.
"Yeah I guess so. On a scale of 1 to 10 how drunk are you really?" Inquired the man on the other side of the phone.
"Um… 11 maybe… I am halfway through my second bottle of tequila. How drunk does that make me in your scale of 1 to 10?" I asked giggling.
"A solid 15. How about we be friends, so you don't have to be wasted everyday. I am sure it can't be good for whatever job you have. It could be our secret club of Dirty Mistresses," he suggested kindly.
"Hmmm… if we were friends it would bring up interesting conversations between my so called friends and I" I replied. "How would we have our meetings for this secret club of Dirty Mistresses?"
"Well it would start with phone calls every morning and evening, and sometimes at lunch for sure. Also you could call me whenever you need," he informed me. "And we could also text if we do not have time to talk. We could be each other's support system."
"That sounds like it would work, but I need something to call you," I replied. " You could tell me your name or I could make up one for you."
"No need to make up a nickname for me. My name is Mark" the now named Mark answered.
"That's a good name I guess. We both have M names. But you have to guess mine. Until you guess it you can call me death" I informed him smugly.
"Now hold on there Death, that's not fair. I told you my name, why can't you tell me yours?" he asked in a pouting tone of voice. I could just see the puppy dog eyes and pouty lip begging for my name.
"Well it's not my fault you told a stranger your name. I now know where you live and your name, and you know neither about me so HA!" I replied drunkenly.
"Wait how do you know where I live anyway, and why did you call this number in the first place?" he asked finally realizing that I might have misdialed, and that I never answered his first question.
"Well despite being really drunk, I am actually really smart. I made it through medical school, and I am in my first year of my surgical internship. I looked up the area code for New
York City and was calling random numbers from there. You were the first one to answer," I replied smartly.
"Well what's to stop me from doing the same thing to you," he asked trying to save some dignity.
"Well nothing, but you still don't know my name," I answered.
"True. Will you tell me where you are so I don't have to waste my valuable time looking it up?" Mark questioned.
"Yup. I live in Seattle and Markie, I have to work tomorrow, so I need to get some sleep if I am going to go impress my resident and attendings. Also knowing my luck I will be with the attending I thought I loved. Yay Meredith, your luck sucks. Why couldn't I be like the boy-who-lived because he had like the best luck ever, well sorta. He did have like a really sucky childhood, so he really wasn't all that lucky, but we do have that in common. But-"
"Meredith, shut up," Mark interrupted my rambling.
"HEY! How'd you know my name? I didn't tell you-"
" Yes you did in your rambling. How much more of the tequila have you drunk?"
"Uh… I would have drank more, but the third bottle didn't wanna open for me"
"Maybe that means you should get some sleep Death,"
"Only if you tell me what you do for a living, what is it that makes your time so valuable?"
"You just jump from different topics don't you" he mumbled to himself. "I am a plastic surgeon, one of the best on the East Coast."
"Oooooooo… a plastic surgeon. That does sound like your time is really valuable," I said. " Maybe you are right, I do need some sleep. Goodnight Markie!" I hollered as I hung up the phone.
The last thing I did before I went to sleep was save Markie's number in my phone as Angel. I get to make up a name for him even if he didn't want it.