AN: To answer a question….
The reason Mark's not taking care of Hannah by himself is because he didn't really want to be a 'dad' persay. All he wanted was to be in her life, avoiding the whole responsibility thing which kind of fits with my view of Mark's character on the show. He wanted her to be close by, so he convinced Meredith to let the Shepherds adopt Hannah. The rest, they say, is history.
The first time he saw her, he'd known that he wanted to date her. Now, as he was standing on her doorstep and waiting for her to slam the door in his face, he found the thought reappearing. Although she had grown her hair out into its original dirty blonde and her stomach was considerably larger, she still looked the same to him; green eyes that looked gray in the sun, wrists that he could surround with his thumb and forefinger, black, loving scuffed-up converse on her feet.
She was Meredith, and something as simple as not slamming the door in his face was enough to make him want her again.
"You're here," she sighed.
"I'm here."
She wasn't looking at him with an openly hostile expression, but he was sure that she would by the end of the conversation.
"Are they here, too?" she asked, standing on her tip-toes to see behind him.
"They couldn't make it. They had this big exam for medical school and-"
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, "You came and you didn't bring them? How the hell am I supposed to give my child over to them if I've never even met them?"
He tried to ignore her use of 'my child' instead of 'our child'. I deserve it, he thought reluctantly. He motioned to the empty space behind her, "Can I come in?"
She pushed the door a couple of inches wider, abandoning him and moving towards the living room. He sighed, leaning against the doorframe and making no move to accept her unenthusiastic invitation.
"I thought you were the one who wanted to come in?"
"Not when you're being-" he stopped himself, knowing automatically that he had gone too far. The flush of anger accenting her cheekbones confirmed it.
"What was that?" she snapped.
"Nothing," he backpedaled furiously, "nothing. So I was thinking…"
"Not a good way to start."
"Can you stop with the insults, please? Addison, that's one of my friends, she wants to talk to you, but they can't get away. Would you be up for a phone conversation? Email?"
"I'm supposed to hand over Evelyn to someone I've only talked to through email?"
He shrugged, like he couldn't understand why she was making such a big deal out of this, "Or the phone."
He was now only a few feet away from her, close enough to see the pinprick of tears in the corners of her eyes. He was close enough to reach out and….
She sniffled and looked at him with those gray-green eyes and he suppressed the urge to kiss her, instead stepping back far enough so that he couldn't smell lavender anymore.
"I-I'll get Addison on the phone. See? I'm dialing…it's ringing…"
She nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and sinking into the couch, nearly disappearing behind the cushions.
"Addison! Hey, Meredith wants to talk to you…okay, here she is…."
He held the phone out for her to take, but she hesitated a second. Frustrated, he wrapped his fingers over the receiver and bent in to hiss, "Meredith, take the phone."
She bit her lip, before snatching it out of his hands and taking it with her upstairs. He stood, confused for a second before he heard the door slam. Shoving his hands into his jeans, he glanced up briefly before turning to inspect the pictures lined up haphazardly on the mantle.
One of Meredith and her mother, on one of their better days; another of Meredith sitting piggy-back on her father's back, giggling up at the camera; and then, of course, there they were, Mark and Meredith leaning on the hood of his car. Neither of them were smiling, but it wasn't that they didn't look happy, or in love, it was that they were too wrapped up in each other to even notice the flash of the camera.
It was like one of those 80's romance movie posters, the guy looking down at the girl and the girl looking up at the guy.
It was them.
"He's here," she mumbled pathetically, ignoring the flashes of memory pricking her mind.
"Who's here?"
"Shit! I think he saw me."
"Who saw you?"
"Izzie! Hide me!"
"I won't hide you until you tell me who I'm hiding you from."
"Mark Sloane just walked out of the Chief's office," Meredith gritted out impatiently, ducking behind a tray full of nurses supplies while Izzie inspected her nails. The blonde looked up at the name.
"Oh my god. Mark Sloane? He's so hot. Did you read that last medical journal where they did an article about him cutting off that guys face?"
"Izzie! Focus!"
"We totally have to nickname him. What about…sex god who Isobel Stevens is currently having very, very inappropriate thoughts about right now? I think that pretty much sums it up…"
"Izzie! Stop thinking whatever the hell you're thinking and freaking hide me!"
"Why? Do you know him or something? Can you hook us up?"
"We used to date, Iz," she confessed, still crouching beneath patients charts and ventilators, "and no, I can't hook you up."
Izzie frowned, "Why not?"
"Because. Now shush! He's coming this way."
She held a finger to her lips and sunk closer to the floor.
"He's a few feet away," Izzie reported dutifully out of the corner of her mouth, "Closer….closer…."
"Why is there a doctor under the table?"
Shit.
Meredith wanted to scream or cry or something but instead she crossed her legs underneath her and settled in for a lifetime on the floor of Seattle Grace.
"What doctor? There's no doctor," her eyes widened in enthusiasm, "Hey, are you single?"
Meredith rolled her eyes. She could feel Mark's smirk.
"Sort of. How about I get back to you at the end of the day?"
Izzie laughed and moved to cover Meredith's hunched figure.
"I suppose I can wait. But be warned, I'm not a very patient girl."
"Duly noted. See you around…"
"Izzie Stevens."
"Izzie. That's cute," he threw one last glance at the nurses tray before sauntering away, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans while Izzie looked on adoringly.
"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" Izzie asked casually, still drinking in the sight of Sloane's leather-clad back disappearing around a corner. She looked like she was about to drool.
"Ditto," Meredith shot back, disgusted at both Izzie's behavior and the discovery of unidentified stuff littering the floor.
"Oh, come on I was just flirting. If you want him, take him."
Meredith scoffed, but accepted the hand Izzie offered to help her up.
"I don't want him," she insisted, "I just can't see how you do."
Izzie blinked.
"Where you looking at the same man as I was?"
"Um…"
"That's how."