Author's Note: Longish note here! But hey, this is a full chapter of brand new material after a year of writer's block and a loss of my muse. She's back though, and kicking up a storm of ideas! So, a few things to take note of now in this new piece!
-*This story is in the process of being completely revised. I will finish up shortly, but I have basically condensed the first six chapters that were published into only three, making them a bit longer and more satisfying to read! I've also fluffed it out a bit, adding things here and there. If you are a returning reader, going back to read those chapters is not a requirement, but might be enjoyable!
-Review Responses! I started these after the chapters of Seeing Double had been posted, so I've never done them for this story before. That being said, with seventy-three reviews, it would take forever to answer them all on new chapters, plus it would practically be a chapter itself! So, from now on I'll be keeping up with them, and I'll try to answer the ones already posted through PM's. If you have reviewed this story in the past, I just want to say thank you so very much for your support! Seeing Double has some awesome feedback, and it's a top favorite/follow in the Mark Sloan and the Original Character category, thanks to people like you!

Feel free to follow, favorite, review, and what not! I love story feedback and suggestions, but please keep any flames or negativity to yourself! I covet constructive criticism, etc., but I do not accept bullying. Wouldn't want me to let loose a batch of interns with scalpels would you? ;)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Grey's Anatomy (trust me, I'd change lots of things and many who died would still be kicking!), its characters, or any other copyrighted/trademarked material that may or may not be mentioned in this story. I DO own my original character, and any personal plot bunnies I let escape!

~Chapter Four~

It burned.

And I needed that burn, desperately.

Perhaps that was the temptation of alcohol; the burn, the lowering of inhibitions, the possible loss of memory- if that's what you were looking for. It could make even the most rhythmically challenged a damn good bar dancer, or turn those intensely quiet and socially awkward patrons into lively, laughing, giggling messes. A few drinks could influence a person to showcase a side of their personality that typically remained hidden from the public eye, both the fabulous and awful. It had the ability to make something hilarious, something easier to bear, and sometimes it could even make something disappear. Lost in your memories, easily suppressed, boxed up nicely with a pretty little bow, the tag reading "To Open at a Later Date".

If there was someone looking to forget, it was me.

The entire day, even the spine-tinglingly good parts that left my lips swollen and parts of me aching that hadn't gotten near the amount of attention they should, needed to be forgotten.

To simply not happen.

All of it.

The news of my mother's lustrous liaisons, the backhanded punch that landed me benched for the day and with stitches, the train wreck of a meeting Meredith kidnapped me to with our father who had been missing from our lives for over twenty years, the sting of rejection and betrayal when the two of us remained herded on his front porch, clearly separated from his shiny new family that he had so easily given us up for.

I hissed out a breath, swallowing down my second shot of tequila for the night in one go.

And Mark Sloan.

Mark "Mister-I'm-So-Arrogantly-Charming-And-Suave-McSteamy" Sloan.

Especially him.

I was doing my best to convince myself that the chance meeting with the astoundingly sexy and topnotch surgeon was exactly that- chance. It was not fate that led him to walk into Seattle Grace at the precise moment I was taking cover at the nurse's station. It was not destiny that he completely captivated my attention, leading to a slight concussion and my body sprawled along the strong, warm, steely muscled length of his- thanks to an angry, ex-bestfriend. And it was most certainly not the universe's divine decree that Mark Sloan and I were meant to be something more, just because the level of attraction I had for the man could not be healthy for my blood pressure and far surpassed any other attraction I had experienced before. Ever. That instantaneous, electrified connection we shared that went bone and soul deep was totally normal.

Mundane, really. It was… it was, dammit!

So just because I allowed myself to give in, to practically jump the man in the Visiting Surgeon's lounge, consequences be damned- said consequences that just so happened to be returning to the hospital in search of him like he asked (and like I desperately wanted to, given the revelation that my father hadn't given a damn about me and my twin sister when we were barely even six years old), only to find him in what was probably the most uncomfortable and awkward elevator confrontation I had ever witnessed in my entire existence –it didn't mean anything. Not a single damn thing.

Honestly!

The third shot burned its way down my throat slower this time, and I reached forward to snag a bowl of peanuts before positioning them between Meredith and myself. Stirring them with my fingers aimlessly, I finally plucked one from the group and began cracking it open with much more precision than Joe's average patron.

It was a soothing distraction, rewarded with a salty treat at the end.

Refusing my mind access, that's what I was doing. I refused to remember the way Mark's blue eyes had been darkened with frustration, almost bordering gray on the edges, before they had cleared and widened once he caught sight of me standing there, witness to yet another Shepard-Shepard-Sloan blowout. I refused to remember how the display had been a screamingly clear warning sign of heartache to come, how it had been the final crack in the shimmery haze I had wrapped myself in for the majority of the day- the one where I told myself that nothing was happening, and that if something did come of it, I'd be just fine with one night of him before he swept his red-haired goddess away with him back to New York. I wouldn't dare let myself think of the way he had called my name once I'd tucked tail and ran once again, employing Meredith's super-spy level of avoidance and stealth, or the way his voice had sounded pained, worried as it echoed after me through the halls.

Instead, I would sit on my cushy barstool with my twin sister steadfastly seated by my side, downing tequila shots and popping peanuts as we waited on those we had come to call friends- family really, if you whispered it low enough that Cristina and Alex wouldn't hear you.

Just another night at Joe's.

"I feel pathetic, do you feel pathetic?" I half-whined through a murmur, wincing just a bit at the leftover burn in my throat. "We're pathetic."

Meredith snorted into her nearly empty shot glass, giving an overly enthusiastic nod in agreement.

I frowned down at my own empty shot glasses, taking note that she was beating me by two and I would most likely be pouring her into a cab at the end of the night instead of driving the jeep back home. Idly spinning an empty glass on the bartop, I stared blankly at the shadows it created while I tried to decipher just what exactly I was really most upset about.

Was it our estranged father who had ended up staying in the same area, holed up in a cutesy little house with its warm, welcoming glow and his perfect new family while Meredith and I had been left to our cold, impossible to please, nearly just as estranged mother? Or was it the fact that the comfort I had been secretly praying to run back to after the bastard could barely find it within himself to ask if there was anything my sister and I needed, could only be found in the sturdy embrace of a man who had only come to Seattle to win back a woman, the same woman who was married to the man my own twin had honestly believed she would spend the rest of her life with?

"Does it even matter?" Meredith groaned through her dejected sigh, leaning comfortingly into my side. "Both are just another reason why us Grey girls aren't ever going to get our happy endings."

My eyes widened comically, the glass I had been spinning nearly sailing off the counter and back behind the bar. My wild rescue attempt gained the attention of Joe, who arched an eyebrow questioningly at me, his eyes glinting with amusement. Heat surged through my cheeks, tinting them a faint pink of embarrassment as he chuckled and returned to serving another customer.

"How did you…I said that out loud?!" I hissed at Meredith, my lips twitching downward.

She nodded her head once again, still too emphatically for our mood, "Yep."

I gave a startled squeak in response, barely resisting the urge to bang my head on the counter in front of me as she gave me a hiccuping giggle and lurched off of the bar stool she occupied, making a beeline for the bathroom and stumbling like a baby deer all the way. I snorted quietly, knowing that she was already three empty shot glasses ahead of me and had come to the bar with a need to drown her feelings, so I wasn't really all that surprised. I propped my chin on my palm and sighed a bit, dimly wondering where the others were and weighing the benefits of cutting my sister off or continuing to enable her, given my own childish desire to drink the entire day's events away. A short glass of water was passed into my vision and I looked up to find Joe leaning on the bar in front of me, watching me closely with an expression of sympathy as I flicked my wrist –an action I would no doubt regret later –and let another round of tequila be poured.

"Bad day?" He questioned, using his height to lean over and ruffle my hair fondly.

I mock-scowled at him, the glare melting into a small grin as I gave a humorless laugh, "You have no idea."

Joe gave a quiet chuckle in return, gathering up the empty glasses that littered the counter top in front of both Meredith's and my own bar stool. I swiped up peanut remnants and tossed them into the trash bucket that was stationed in front of the stool next to me, my fingers already working on a new one as another shot was poured. I gave the man a teasing grin, noticing through his laughter that his eyes darted to something just beyond my shoulder before coming back to settle on mine, a knowing smirk inching his lips upward as he granted me a mirthful wink.

"Seems like things might just be looking up, Chelle." Joe grinned, tossing his towel over his shoulder and ambling back down the bar.

"Wait, wha-" I stuttered, thoroughly confused.

"This seat taken?"

I froze.

Every single muscle I possessed tensed and locked up as soon as that deep, slightly gravelly voice reached my senses. The peanut I had been shelling was decimated between my fingers, and my eyes flew open wider than I thought possible as my spine stiffened and straightened to the point of steel, jerking me up from my lazily slouched position. The mirror over the back bar shelves proved to be my enemy as I met a pair of mischievous blue-grays that glinted back at me, capturing my gaze and refusing to release it.

He was close.

Very, very close.

Perhaps too close actually, given that my apparent inability to even conjure up a single word or sentence to respond with was any sort of indication. My lips parted, closed, parted again- and I darted my tongue out to wet them as I stalled for time. He quirked a single eyebrow, a teasing smirk shaping his lips even as he eyes darkened considerably after tracking the swipe of my tongue across my lips, and my entire body heated up as he did. He had leaned down from his impressive height, strong pectorals grazing my shoulder blades as he curled his body around mine, nosing my hair gently from my ear before he spoke.

His breath was warm as it blew softly over the newly exposed skin of my neck and ear, the spearmint tang providing me with a heady scent as shivers rippled across my skin. He gave a quiet, rumbling groan when he noticed, his lips and the faintest touch of the scruff on his jawline grazing over my temple as he straightened once more, strategically pressing into my right side as he positioned himself between my seat and the empty one next to it, waiting patiently.

Those dark blue eyes, full of sinful promises, never broke away from mine.

I swallowed thickly, doing my best to clear my throat quietly as I gave what I hoped was an unaffected shrug. "I guess it is now."

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest and I did my best to ignore the tingles that seeped through my shoulder where it had brushed against him, cursing myself over my attempt at nonchalance. He obviously didn't buy it, not even for a single damn second.

Instead, a smug little grin still pulling at his features, he folded himself down onto the empty stool, dragging it much closer to mine than it had been previously and completely ignored my squeak of protest. I stared at him; my jaw dropped just the slightest, and listened as he ordered a double scotch, single malt from a highly amused Joe before he gave me a wink. I distractedly watched the process of the two men, bartender and patron, greeting each other as Joe placed the newly filled glass of deep amber liquid in front of him. I wanted to say something, anything really, so that I didn't look like the compete imbecile I apparently was, but the soothing heat of his outer thigh pressed tightly along the length of mine was more important, my brain decided.

Rather than coming to my rescue, it chose instead to catalog every sensation; from the strength of the muscle pressed into mine, to the way his black leather jacket cut across his chest just right, all the way down to the heady scent of masculinity that wafted off of him and nearly sent me into a tizzy of hormonal goo. He made it hard, so hard to think, and I finally managed to curl my fingers around my glass as I desperately tried to resist the insane urge that had reared its ridiculous head, demanding that I lean into his heat, surrender myself to touch him, something…

Mark Sloan would surely be the death of me.

He set those stormy blues on me again, lulling me into their security as he gave a contented hum with the first swallow of Scotch.

"- as if we needed anything. What the hell could we possibly need from that bastard?!" Meredith grumbled, suddenly returning and plopping her inebriated self right back down on her stool roughly, nearly jostling me.

Which forced me to lean into Mark.

Shit!

I cursed under my breath in pure annoyance now that I had found myself the middle of a Meredith-Michelle-Mark sandwich, purposefully ignoring her quiet laughter from against my side as he watched my sister and I with what I could only describe as hilarity. His warm hand settled on my side at the curve of my waist, gently righting my position while he shook his head at the indignant squeak that peeled from my lips once more. I quickly righted myself, pulling from his grip and intentionally kicking Meredith's shin in the process while I threw her one of my best death glares.

They weren't to be trifled with.

"Ow, hey! What the hell was that-…oh. H-Hi Mark!" She stuttered out, her eyes a little less glazed with the sudden surprise. "Chelle, did you know Mark was sitting next to you?"

I sighed dryly, rolling my eyes. "I'm aware."

She gave a drunken giggle in response, already leaning over the bar to signal Joe who gave an indulgent sigh. I remained painfully aware of the man pressed against my side, his devilishly handsome looks attracting more than just my own appreciative gaze. Mark downed another gulp of his drink before giving my shoulder a gentle nudge, commanding my attention.

"You look sad," He started, a hint of concern peeking through his usual mask as his eyes flitted over my face.

I bit back my retort, certain that a bitchy reply over the she-devil he had come to claim and their elevator debacle from before was the last thing he was looking for.

"You both do, actually." Mark frowned this time, his searching gaze traveling from me to my sister and back again.

Meredith turned her head, glancing up from the new glass of liquor she had obtained while she pushed a Vodka Sour my way. Her eyes darted to mine, a single look of silent communication that we were more than used to passing in the span of a second before I gave an agreeable nod and sipped at my drink.

"We just saw our father for the first time in twenty years," She muttered, all pretenses of being happily buzzed disappearing with her solemn expression.

Mark stiffened next to me, his ever-changing blue orbs peering down at me in hesitant question. "Yeah? How'd that go?"

I nibbled at my bottom lip as my gaze drifted over his face, checking over his stitches much like the way he had constantly checked mine throughout the day. They traced his jawline, following the enticing cupid's bow shape of his upper lip, outlined by his trimmed facial hair. Meredith cleared her throat, the sound laced with a faint amount of amusement, and my greenish brown eyes connected with the blue of his, once more darkened in response to my obvious attentions.

"Well," I mused consideringly, taking another sip from my glass. "Since it became painfully obvious that daddy dearest went out and got himself a bright and shiny new family while he completely forgot about us, I'd say it could have gone a hell of a lot better."

My sister snorted into her glass again, this time managing to successfully choke on the alcohol within.

"Mere!" I laughed, turning to pat her on the back as she wiped at the front of her mouth.

"Burns! Oh, ow! Ow, ow-" She whined pitifully, batting at her face.

The tension from our confessions eased with the comical sight, her own laughter joining the combined giggles and chuckles coming from both me and Mark. He reached down the bar some, his long arms coming in handy as he snagged a small stack of napkins and passed them back down the bar to my sister. She took them gratefully, dabbing at her nose and hands as she shook her head, giving a huff of a sigh before she slumped against the bar once more, a single arm crossed in front of her. She nudged my leg gently, her eyes trailing to the place where Mark's hand now rested on the back of my stool, something I hadn't even realized until she made the gesture. A flush made its way across the back of my neck, thankfully stopping there, if only because it was frozen stone-cold with her next words.

"So, what are you still doing here?"

I tensed visibly despite my best effort not to, bracing myself for some sappy line about Addison and his utter devotion to returning her to the East Coast.

But only silence met my sister's inquiry.

"I'm…uh, I'll be right back." I muttered, turning toward my sister and slipping off my seat, making my getaway from the sensitive topic before it could become awkward.

Missing Mark's intense, piercing gaze on me the entire way.

Meredith watched as her sister almost sprinted toward the bathroom, never looking back as she made the trip. Her greenish-blue eyes turned back to her new bar buddy, eyeing him contemplatively, all traces of insobriety gone.

He swallowed uncomfortably.

"Spill." She demanded, her voice a little harder than usual.

Mark glanced at her from the corner of his eye, an almost nervous expression flitting across his face before he steeled himself, the arrogant mask of self-assuredness replacing it. He gave an innocent shrug, tilting his glass back for another gulp of the dark liquid within before he angled himself slightly toward her.

"There's nothing to spill."

"Bullshit." Meredith denied instantly, narrowing her eyes. "I call absolute bullshit. I've seen you, you know. I was there the entire day, just like she was. I've seen the way you look at her, watch her."

He shifted in his seat, fingers drumming out a soft rhythm next to his glass. "Addison?"

Might as well throw her off the trail, he hoped at least. The last thing he needed was to discuss his unexplainable yet entirely intense feelings that had taken hold and sprouted within less than twenty-four hours for her twin sister. If you had asked him two days prior what his main goal had been in coming to Seattle, why he would still be hanging around in a bar after a less than comfortable encounter with his ex-bestfriend and his wife, whom he had slept with and loved- he would have easily been able to answer that it was because of Addison. Waiting on her, trying to convince her, hoping to take her back home with him despite his royal fuck-up's and her own misgivings.

But now…now there was Michelle Grey.

And he wasn't so sure and confident about anything anymore.

Meredith cocked her head to the side, appraising him silently in a way that made him squirm guiltily. "Are you still in love with her?"

He clenched his fists, unable to fully answer and irritated with her uncanny ability to see through the guise he empowered, just like her sister.

"You're still in love with him!" Mark retorted, clenching his glass in his hand.

The slip of a woman didn't flinch, didn't even blink. Instead she watched him, startlingly clear eyes –given that she had been steadily drinking through the night only moments before –deciphering every minute expression he displayed. He let out a low growl of aggravation, desperate eyes seeking out the mouthwatering form of Michelle and finding her nowhere, still hidden away in the bathroom to no doubt skip out on the current topic of discussion.

Smart girl.

"That doesn't matter, Mark. He's not the kind of guy you leave, if you can help it, and she has no intention of doing so."

Her blunt statement would have made him wince hours before, but he was finding it harder and harder to scrape up the necessary feelings to do so. More than anything, he was tired. Tired of the game, the lying about what happened. And lonely, though he would never admit it. More than anything, he simply missed his friends.

"I won't let you destroy her, you know." Meredith continued, drawing his gaze to hers once more, a fierce protectiveness making them dance in the barlight. "Michelle…she's always been the one to take care of me, she's my twin sister. I won't let you hurt her."

They stared at each other in silence, eyes open and unguarded for once in their usually shuttered, guarded lives of avoidance, tequila, and promiscuity.

"I don't want to."