Derek was still with Christina in one of the empty patient rooms on the floor, breathing into a paper bag like Meredith had once done in the supply closet. Christina had been alternating between looking genuinely concerned and rolling her eyes, a fact that hadn't gone unnoticed by her brain surgeon patient.
"If you want to leave, then leave."
She looked mildly relieved for a moment before her eyes raked over his frame, her expression darkening with each wrinkle in his button down shirt.
"And let you stay here alone? Meredith would kill me."
"You obviously don't want to be here and Meredith probably doesn't care if I die from shock so why not?"
She folded her arms across her chest.
"It is my professional duty as a doctor to stay in this room."
"But Mer-"
"Stop! I'm not here to argue, I'm here to make sure you don't have a heart attack or throw up or something, okay? So leave me alone and stay above the freaking trash."
He shrunk back like a chastised child and dutifully leaned over the garbage.
"I can't believe she slept with Mark," he groaned.
"That's all you can think about? What happened nine years ago? Do yourself a favor- stop freaking out about Sloane and focus on why you didn't know she was Hannah's mother."
He was quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in. His expression flitted from thoughtful to contemplative.
"So this means I can murder Mark?"
"No."
"Well what the hell do you want me to do? Both my girlfriend and my wife have slept with my best friend, are you telling me that I should sit back and watch everything blow up in my face?"
"It already has," Christina quipped with a brief, tight-lipped smile, "and if I were you, I'd talk to Sloane. Ask him what happened. Considering the fact that Meredith won't talk to you, I'd say he's your best bet."
"But Meredith-"
"Go talk to him," she repeated, throwing him a glare.
"But I don't know where he is and…" he trailed off, his shoulders shrugging with indifference.
"He was your best friend, I'm sure you'll figure it out."
"But-"
She raised an eyebrow, "Do you want to argue with me? We could be here all day."
He slumped.
"Christina, I…I don't know if I can handle this."
Her eyes softened and her voice dropped an octave, "you'll figure it out."
He didn't even notice how uncharacteristically warm the hand covering his forearm was, all he could think about was what he would say when, inevitably, he'd have to talk to his best friend.
--
A thin layer of smoke was covering nearly everything in the packed bar. He could barely see; his vision was clouded with gray and his eyes had started to sting.
Emerald City was filled with noise- the sharp crack of an eight ball as it collided with the side of a pool table, the hyena laugh coming from the corner where a redhead was backed up against the wall by a tattooed man in a wife beater, the swish of alcohol running down throats, the click of stilettos as they hit the floor, the soft white noise of conversation as it flitted from person to person.
He straightened the collar of his blood red shirt-the shirt he'd worn when he first met Meredith- and glanced around the familiar surroundings for an equally familiar face. Christina had advised him to see Mark, to actually talk to him about everything that had happened.
She expected him to have a civilized conversation with him.
Gulping down a wave of nausea, he took in a deep breath of lethal air before moving to survey the stools. They were all occupied, mostly by lonely people who were already well on their way to intoxication, lonely people who had all accumulated a large number of glass shot glasses despite how early it was. An aching memory tore at him, a memory that involved him and her and this bar, at these stools, with him in his red shirt and her in a small black dress that left just enough to the imagination…
"I'm just a girl,"
She had said.
"I'm just a guy,"
He had said, in a voice that he remembered being proud of.
He could hear her soft giggle, and could see her hand as she brought it up to her mouth to stifle a laugh. He saw her flip her hair over one shoulder and lean closer to him, so close that he could smell her lavender hair. Then, almost as if he was still remembering, he really did hear her soft giggle, and he really did smell her lavender hair. Running a hand through his own nearly-black hair, he looked up, not entirely surprised to see dirty blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her alabaster hands gripping a shot of tequila. Instinctively, he smiled, forgetting exactly why he was here. Just the sight of her, in the place where they'd met was enough to lift him out of whatever mood he'd been in. Just the sight of her happy was enough to make him forget.
Then he saw the man who was making her giggle, the man who was making her throw her head back with laughter.
Derek's expression twisted into something hurt and jealous; the same expression that he'd worn after he'd discovered a worn leather jacket hanging up in his entryway in Manhattan. He could hear a rush of blood ringing in his ears and he was vaguely aware of his nails as they dug into his palms. They both stopped grinning at each other as soon as they noticed him, just like when he'd walked in on Mark on top of his wife in his bed.
Except this time it was somehow worse.
"Derek," she breathed, her face flushing with something close to shame, "you're here."
He didn't say anything.
"Derek, we weren't-"
She didn't know why she was trying to explain. After all, hadn't he been the one to pull the plug on their relationship?
Mark stood up, his entire frame leaning heavily against the bar to keep from falling over.
"Derek, we were just talking-"
The air, if possible, became even more difficult to breathe in. Derek felt like he'd just donated blood; that faint, weak feeling that gripped at you from the inside out.
Turning towards the door, he was faintly aware of her calling his name but all he could concentrate on was getting out, on breathing, because that simple function was becoming increasingly difficult to do.
Fresh air hit him as soon as he fell through the door.
"I don't want to hear it," he managed to choke out once he realized that Meredith had followed him.
"We were just talking.
She was slurring.
"Like we did my first night in Seattle?"
Hurt etched its way onto her features.
"That was different. I didn't know you."
"And you know Mark?"
Knowing that he wouldn't like her answer, she dropped her eyes to the floor and mumbled a small, "Yes."
He let out a laugh, "Really? Because I heard that he left you pregnant in high school and offered your baby to Addison and I."
"That was nine years ago, Derek!"
"And he still did something horrible! How can you just sit there and let him use you again?"
"Use me? How the hell is he going to use me? He already has everything he's always wanted-he has Addison and Hannah."
Derek shrunk back like he'd been slapped.
"Addison doesn't want a divorce," he said shakily, like he was convincing himself, "If Mark has her than why doesn't she want a divorce?"
"You'll have to ask her," she said, the slur still evident in her voice.
Mark appeared behind Meredith, barely able to stand.
"She's scared," he called over Meredith's shoulder, "She's scared to leave you for something she's not sure will work."
Seeing them standing together, if not actually togetherand knowing that Mark was right about Addison was enough for something inside Derek to snap. He could see Mark with both of them, he could see himself being turned into some kind of sloppy seconds, could see Meredith being with him just because Mark couldn't be with her.
He saw Mark winning both of the women in his life, saw him making Hannah laugh with an arm loosely slung over Addison's shoulders and Meredith with a sly smile on her lips off to his right, looking up at Mark adoringly. He saw his life being snatched away by his best friend.
Next thing he knew, he was barreling towards a drunk Mark Sloane in front of Meredith on a deserted street in the middle of Seattle. It was a scene that mirrored what had already happened earlier in the Seattle Grace cafeteria.
A few months ago, he would never have believed that this is where he'd end up; two fights with Mark in the same day.
AN: Why the hell are these taking so long for me to write?
Thanks again for the reviews…they're pretty much amazing!