Disclaimer: If I owned Grey's, I would still have had a fever and a sore throat, but others would have published my stories for me in the meantime.
A/N: Sorry, this took ages, both to write and to publish. The thing is that I lost my sheet of paper on which I'd scretched many, many Addex conversations, and had to improvise. I didn't know what to write for a long period of time, and when I did, it came out like this: Fillerish, no flashback. Sorry. It's still one of my favorites, only the conversation part kinda sucks. But hell, better this than nothing, right?
I'm not giving up: Check out my McBlog. I ramble so much in it, it'd be a waste if noone read. On another note: Enjoy and tell me how you liked it! Oh! And thanks for all your wonderful reviews! I usually don't reply to them, but if you keep going the rate you are I might start... :P
Shards of glass - Chapter VI: Sleepness nights
Staind - It's been awhile
Why must I feel this way?
Just make this go away
Just one more peaceful day
Addison couldn't sleep. She just couldn't. Sure, she was dead-tired, but she could not sleep. No, she was not lying awake, squeezing her eyes shut, counting sheep or something. Perhaps the expression 'couldn't sleep' was wrong. It was more of a 'didn't want to sleep and thus prevented it at all cost'.
It wasn't like she didn't need sleep. She did. She hadn't slept last night either and tomorrow–... today (it was 4.53 am) there was more than one procedure on the board she was very keen on participating (Could you participate surgery?). She dreaded the moment, though. The moment, right before she fell asleep. When the day passed before her eyes.
What she was doing, was watching DVDs. 'LOST', to be exact. She was halfway through the third season by now. Why 'LOST'? Because it was so thrilling and interesting and dramatic that she didn't have time for thinking. Which was – as a matter of fact – the only reason behind this weird marathon.
She'd tried 'ER', but that reminded her of work and working with her new intern. She'd started a couple of movies, but she'd watched 'Star Wars' too often to still have to think about it, and every other film she owned was all romantic. Yes, Mark owned some action movies, but those didn't exactly require intelligence, did they? After another failed attempt with 'Charmed' (why she owned the third season was beyond her, she'd simply found it in the shelf behind her many seasons of 'ER') - definitely too love-focused, she'd been close to thinking. Thus, she'd quickly settled on 'LOST'. It did the job.
Mark had fallen asleep six hours ago. She'd told him she wasn't in the mood, and – surprisingly enough – he hadn't done more to convince her that sex was what she needed than look disappointed. As soon as she'd heard his even breaths, she'd softly wiggled out of his light grasp, tiptoed to the living room and then started attacking her DVD-collection.
Her eyes were finally fluttering shut. It was about time. Maybe one more episode and she'd pass out of sheer exhaustion. Without having time to think. What about? Well, that was obvious, wasn't it? Alex, that he was here, that he was hot, that he was hurt. About the long and short of it.
She didn't really know who she was trying to kid. Herself? Postponing the next morning, having to see him again and to work with him and everything, that didn't help. Not at all. It'd probably be better if she was prepared. Then again, how did one prepare for having to deal with the love of her life, acting as if he was nothing more than a colleague? An insignificant person from the past, if anything? As if he hadn't seen Mark kiss her? Nope, she knew that she was doing nothing more than avoid and deny. But it postponed the moment she did have to think. Because that moment? It wouldn't be nice.
Addison fell asleep on the couch half an hour before she had to get up again, while that chick Juliet's past was getting revealed. She'd never liked her anyway.
addexaddexaddexaddexaddex
Alex hadn't slept. Not a second. Not a single god damn second. Instead, he'd lain awake, staring at the ceiling. He'd never been one to count sheep, twisting and turning clearly hadn't done the trick and squeezing his eyes shut obviously hadn't worked either, thus, he'd given up trying at 1.26 am. The infamous staring at the ceiling (interesting, that even later still cars passed the window of his flat and illuminated the shadows) for two hours.
Finally, he'd surrendered, gotten out of bed, dressed, and then out in the pouring rain. He'd spent the rest of the night running through half-dead streets. Returning five minutes before he'd had to get up, then a quick shower, a douple espresso from Starbucks on the way to work, for the sake of caffein. And now here he was, in the locker room, surrounded by gossiping, complaining or sleeping interns.
He dreaded it, having to meet Addison again. How exactly did she expect him to react, to treat her now? She'd seen him see her and whoever he was, but pretending he hadn't surely was the best way of handling this, wasn't it? It was none of his business, after all. Right? Or did she want him to say anything? Be the jealous-... whatever he'd been? Be cool about it? Happy for her, maybe? Ask her who that bastard was so he could dig his grave? Okay, that rather not. No, he had no clue of what to do in that kind of situation. Instinct said 'run and hide', but he could hardly do that, could he?
Reluctantly, he followed that loser O'Malley, who was chatting like a little girl with the hot model chick. They found their resident close to the nurses station – again. His heart might have skipped a beat or two. Damnit, did she have to have the ability to make him feel so stupid?
Alex sighed and tried getting the mental image of her with that jackass out of his head.
She was sipping some coffee. Thank god he hadn't met her at Starbucks. Urgh, random thought... No, she really looked tired. As if she hadn't slept much longer than he had. Which was ridiculous, right? Fine, her make-up was perfect – as always – and there were no abnormal lines on her face, but the way she stood, walked, even looked at people, how heavy her arm seemed when she lifted the cup to her oh so wonderful lips, clear indicators. He knew the chick, after all.
And – not that he'd expected it to be any differently, he caught his redheads eyes as soon as she lifted her head. It wasn't a long connection, she looked away as soon as she noticed it was him, but it still somewhat shook him. He could have sworn she'd flushed just the slightest bit.
The other interns were already waiting with her and she spoke up (yeah, she was definitely dead-tired):
"Grey, Shepherd requested you. Stevens, go with her. O'Malley, trauma pager. Yang, ... Karev, both Burke and Sloan need an intern, pick one."
She wasn't looking at him, and he found she seemed a little uncomfortable. Fine. The situation was right out awkward. The other interns made their way to whatever they were supposed to be doing. He was glad (though – honestly – a little sad, too). But something was-...
"Wait, Mark Sloan?", Alex couldn't help but ask.
"Uh, yeah."
Why did she look even guiltier now?
"THE plastic surgeon?", he rechecked, not able to believe his luck. The dude was like the go-to plastic surgeon on the East Coast.
"Yes."
Looking left and right uncomfortably. What the hell was wrong with her? Alex was being professional and nice and-... Hell, MARK SLOAN! She knew how much he wanted to go plastics, so why couldn't she react a little differently?
"I need to get in on that case.", he stated, half-dumbfounded, half-ecstatic.
"But-..."
"I'm going cardio-thoracics anyway. Had you tried taking that from me, I'd've had to kill you.", the scary Asian chick suddenly uttered, then sent him a death-glare, then walked away. Whatever.
"Okay, then. Where can I find him?", Alex exclaimed excitedly. Fucking hell, he'd get to meet THE MARK SLOAN! The dude had been his idol for years!
The redhead sighed and her eyes found someone in the crowd.
"Uh, there he is."
He followed her half-hearted nod, almost missing that she looked more than a little guilty, closer to panicky and how tense she suddenly was, and then only one though occupied his brain.
Game over.
