The rest of the day crawls by, filled with nothing but charting and notating and all the grunt work that comes with scut, but Meredith doesn't mind so much. It takes the strain off the hangover that chases her until after lunch, when it is finally fought off by her third cup of hospital coffee and a lukewarm bowl of soup from the cafeteria.
Her phone doesn't buzz again, and she sneaks it back to her into her locker before Bailey can find out she had it with her during shift.
Derek roams around at the edges of her vision through the duration of her entire shift, but never approaches. It's like a permanent dark thundercloud, that is matched in how Addison seems extra jumpy the few times Meredith makes eye contact with her at the handful of nurses stations they cross paths at.
Mark has made more waves in this hospital than Meredith thinks anyone truly realizes.
She would almost feel bad, if she wasn't hyper aware of the wounded man she had sat next to at the bar last night, if she didn't relive every single moment she had spent with Derek in the before, if she still didn't dream of Addison showing up in the lobby of the very hospital where she is still forced to work with the Sheppards. So Meredith doesn't feel bad, she can't, she's been hurt enough times that in this case, she is choosing to pick herself for once.
Build a wall between her and regretting the choices she's made.
("We're the Dirty Mistresses; we should have each other's backs")
(And Meredith thinks Mark might understand her more than Derek ever did, might actually get the little broken pieces in her that Derek never seem to relate to.)
As end of shift nears, thankfully today is a short day for Meredith who has reached her hourly cap for the week already, and with no emergent surgeries, she's due to be cut loose on time, Meredith runs into George when rounding the corner back to the fourth floor nurses station. Head buried in the chart she's just finished notating, she doesn't look up in time, and crashes headlong into her roommate and friend. The chart shoots out of her hands and skids across the hall as she stumbles back, and George is knocked onto his ass.
"George! I'm so sorry!" Meredith cries, scrambling after the chart and handing it off to the nurse at the station, before reaching down to help George up.
He doesn't look at her and ignores her outstretched hand, pushing himself up without a word.
Hurt and confused, Meredith drops her hand and steps back, frowning. "George are you okay?"
He spares her a quick glance before looking back down at his shoes. "I'm fine," he mutters.
"No you aren't. George, why won't you look at me?" Meredith asks, concern rising the longer her friend refuses to look at her.
He snaps his gaze back up and Meredith sees something angry in them. "Really Mer? Mark Sloane?" The bitter growl in his voice startles her, forcing her to take a step backwards. She doesn't even have time to compute that he knows, pushed forward by the wave of anger.
"George? Why are you so angry?"
George blows a sigh through his nose. "So you don't deny it then? I heard you talking to him on the phone, and you just… you don't see me at all do you?" he demands, stuffing his fists in his lab coat.
Opening her mouth in confusion, Meredith is cut off before she can answer. "You know what, never mind. Enjoy your newest McWhatever," and with that George storms off, leaving a blinking Meredith in his wake.
Brow furrowed, Meredith is left still, a lone motionless figure in the bustle of the hospital. But she can't think on that, doesn't have either the time or the energy to unpack what just happened with George.
(Yesterday, seeing her father. That sheer radiating pain of abandonment fresh after so many years.
(Yesterday, Derek punching Mark in the lobby, not knowing what it means or meant, not for her or for either of the men.)
(Yesterday, conversation in the bar, laughter and human contact in the back of a cab, the feel of skin on skin between expensive hotel sheets.)
(Yesterday, something simple and easy for the first time in so long.)
(So no, she cannot deal with whatever is going on with George right now. And that's okay.)
So, Meredith gives her head a shake, and heads to the locker room to change out of her scrubs and into her real clothes. As the only intern off at the top of this hour, the room is quiet, so she takes her time hoping back into her jeans. There's still two hours until eight, so she's going to head home and shower, change out of the same clothes she wore to the bar last night, and grab some food.
She has no idea where the night will take her, or what the hell she's even doing with herself right now, but she given up on caring what others are thinking. Meredith is going to do what feels good to her right now.
Maybe that's Mark Sloane, who came to Seattle for Addison, who is still married to Derek, who Meredith may have fallen in love with a year ago. Maybe.
She moves out of the hospital like the wind, eager to escape the looming sensation of doom that seems to hover at every corner.
The drive home is quick, and it feels like a proper treat to shower off the day. By the time seven thirty rolls around, she feels like a whole new person and Mark's sock is freshly laundered and wrapped in a gift bag with a bow which makes her laugh and she figures it will make him laugh as well.
As she rolls out of the driveway, she passes George as he rolls in, and the smile on her face drops. He sees it, and even through the windshields, she can see him flinch slightly, but by then, she's gone, down the road and headed to the hotel. The bag on the front seat sways with the turns, and the thought of it alone is enough to make her feel a bit better. It's ridiculous and silly and that's what makes it so funny.
(It's light and simple and not complicated.)
When she gets to the hotel, she leaves her vehicle in guest parking and heads directly to Mark's room.
He answers the door with a grin, before blinking when she holds the gift bag in his face.
And then he starts laughing.