Peanut shells.

They were hard and brown, strewn out in front of her glazed eyes, reminding her that she was still at Joe's, that she hadn't passed out yet, and, more importantly, that she hadn't decided to take Mark Sloane home with her yet. He was slouched over the counter on the stool next to hers, completely, undoubtedly wasted. There was no one here that would recognize them, thank God, and she was beginning to think that this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"So are we any closer to heading back to your place?" Mark asked.

"Nope," she said, tilting her glass so that the tequila nearly ended up decorating the counter.

"Damn," he muttered, and gestured for Joe to give him another, "What do you think Addison and Derek are doing right now?"

"Ugh," she groaned, cradling her head in her hands, "you don't seriously expect us to have a conversation about them do you?"

"To tell you the truth, I didn't expect you to be sitting here with me at all."

She gulped back a retort, instead closing her eyes to keep the room from spinning and responding in a slightly slurred but completely calm voice, "Well, at least I haven't slapped you yet."

He laughed, a deep, growl of a laugh that sent a shiver through her, "Don't you remember Mer? You did slap me-nine years ago."

"Pfft," she said, "You would have done the same thing if you were me."

She was still locked in the room, on the phone with Addison. He wasn't sure why it was taking this long-to him, all she had to do was ask if Addison was trustworthy and that was that. But an hour? That was borderline obsession, wasn't it? Didn't she trust him enough not to hand their kid off to someone unsafe?

The frustration was starting to sink in; both at her and the guilt that was still steadily eating away at his conscience. It built gradually as he sat on her couch, in her house, in her city, waiting for her to come back down. He began to wonder if she was even still alive.

Slowly, as if she would come barreling at him from behind the closed door, he plodded his way up the stairs, pausing at the last step, directly below her door. He heard her muffled voice through the wood, and her heavy footsteps as she paced back and forth.

With a deep, measured breath, he pushed open the door.

She was cradling the phone in one hand, the other entangled in her hair. She had kicked off her shoes and discarded her socks and was now barefoot, the floor beneath her creaking with each step she made. When she noticed him, the phone nearly dropped from her grip.

"I-I understand," she stuttered, recovering from his sudden reappearance, "I know this is a big step, I just want to make sure-"

She paused, listening to Addison's reply and avoiding his gaze.

"I just don't know if I'm ready to make that kind of commitment, I mean…this is my kid, a while down the road I may want to see her, or talk to her…"

Another pause.

"I understand," she repeated, "But I need a few days. This is a lot to deal with right now and-" another pause, "Okay. Sounds good; you'll hear from me soon."

With a click, she hung up and turned to face him.

"What?"

"You've been up here over an hour I thought-"

"You thought what?" she asked, cold seeping into her voice.

He pursed his lips, "I thought that you were going to tell them you wanted to keep the baby."

She frowned, "And you'd u disapprove of that-right?"

"Meredith, they've waited for a long time for this…"

"They just got married! You said so yourself and already they're having problems?"

"But if you knew them, Mer, then you'd know that-"

"Mark! This is not about them! This is about you and me, and dealing with this."

"Me? What do I have to do with this?"

She crossed the room, and raised her arm to meet the side of his face. Her face was twisted with anger, her eyes were wide as he winced and stepped backward.

"You-" her voice wavered, "You have everything to do with this. You don't get to dump all this on me and pretend like you're doing me a huge favor by finding these strangers to take my kid. This is our problem, not mine, and you don't get to push your way back into my life and try to convince me that you'remaking a big sacrifice to help me. You're not. This is the very least you could do."

He was quiet for a moment, letting the heat from her words sink in.

"You said 'my kid'," he said finally, once it was clear that she had said everything she'd needed to say.

"Excuse me?" she bit back.

"You said 'my kid'. It's our kid."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he knew that he had made a mistake. Her expression darkened and, while the sting from the first slap had begun to fade, another replaced it. When her arm dropped back to her side, his cheek had a hand imprinted on it in red.

"Don't you dare try to convince me that you are still the father. As far as I'm concerned? You gave up those responsibilities as soon as you stopped talking to me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Don't start make excuses again," she said, the fire gone from her words and replaced with exhaustion, "I've heard enough of those."

He had left her house after that, leaving quietly from the way he had come.

"I wouldn't have slapped me twice," he said, "I think once was enough to get your message across."

"Mhmm."

"You know, you were very….grown up then."

"I slapped you," she mumbled.

"Yeah, but…I deserved to be slapped. And you weren't afraid to let me know that I was being an ass."

Meredith frowned at the new shot glass Joe had set in front of her. A question had been gnawing at her, a question that would answer so many other speculations about that day, the day that she decided to give her daughter up. She was certainly drunk enough to ask it by now, and by the looks of it-so was he.

"Did you-" five shots and she was still having trouble spitting the words out, "Did you love her? When you asked me to give Hannah up, did you already love her?"

He closed his eyes, like he was immersed in a memory, absently bringing his drink to his lips.

"I was infatuated with her. It was years later that I realized that I was in love with her. And even more years before I made the incredibly stupid decision to make a move on her behind my best friend's back."

"So you regret it."

"Yes and no. If I hadn't, then I wouldn't be sitting here with you now."

She smiled, "You know I'm not going home with you, right?"

He grinned back.

AN: Again- so so sorry it's taken this long to get this up (is this becoming a pattern?). you guys have been great, though, and I really appreciate all the amazing reviews I've been getting. Thanks so much!!