He could be cocky and impulsive. He could be a mean bastard. He'd slept with lots of women, most of which he shouldn't have, at least according to common moral decency. He'd done the one night stands in bar restrooms and quick affairs with women who meant nothing to him. He was a man's man. A wrestler who could thrash the fiercest of competitors and a fighter who could strike ruthlessly with vengeance. His masculinity was never in question… except when she was around. Just looking at her made him feel like the insecure small town boy he really was.
She was the living embodiment of sophistication. Between her stylish heels and the extravagant wardrobe which must cost more than he made in a year, she exuded class and grace. But it wasn't just her attire, it was her. Her presence radiated with charisma. She was self-reliant and erudite and rich with character and humanity. She was the woman whom everyone wanted, but not just anyone could have. She wasn't for the ordinary or weak. She was the trove of wealth that only a few extraordinary men could posses.
Shepherd had been the luckiest man alive, in his consideration, but the neurosurgeon had taken that for granted. It had been hard watching them interact together, with gaiety and intimate exchanges, sharing an insurmountable mountain of history between them; history that could never be erased. But his fragile heart didn't plummet to the ground, didn't shatter to millions of tiny little fragments, when he saw her interacting with Shepherd. Everyone knew that he was in love with Meredith and that she, for better or worse, had moved on. No, it was watching her with Sloan that made his insides quiver with revulsion.
If he had to, he could understand the man's appeal. The girls conversed about it enough that he knew exactly why women went for Mark Sloan. But he wasn't a man that they stayed with. Sloan was the charmer who showed women what they had been missing their entire lives and then discarded them like a newspaper that wasn't current anymore, used and useless. He was good for one time only and never more.
Except for her. She was drawn to Sloan in ways that no one else would understand. He had been fortunate enough to have her, but he'd treated her inconsiderately. He had broken her further at a time when she had thought herself already unfixable. He'd shown no regard for any of the essential parts of her character, but only excessive esteem for her physique. And yet she was drawn to him, an indefinable magnetism full of sexual tension and basic human connection luring her closer into the spider's web.
He possessed something she needed, some strength to compensate for one of her weaknesses. Maybe it was his overabundance of self-worth she required, to use to overpower her tender vulnerability. Maybe he retained some elusive, intangible quality that she deemed necessary to satisfy an insatiable craving.
Or maybe, just maybe, she was simply empty, a hollow shell of a once dynamic person, desperately searching for fulfillment, for that one spark that would ignite her vivacity and her potency and her blazing inner light.
If that was the case, despite being an insecure, boyish intern in her presence, he wouldn't give up hope. Because one day, she might turn his way and he had the distinct feeling that he, coarse and unsophisticated, held the key to her answers.
The unattainable-- it's both sought after and abandoned. To those that already have it, it's unremarkable. To those seeking it, priceless. Some are enticed by the challenge, while others yield to the difficulty of attaining it. The journey can be one of true exertion, of sweat and labor and tears, or one of emotion, of patience and devotion. Whatever its means, success is a testament of the passion and dedication of the victor; a true judge of one's strength of character. As life often shows us, only the strong will thrive.