It had started to rain.
Sheets were falling so hard that he couldn't see Meredith, only the dark figure who was hitting him, over and over, so hard that he could barely breathe. He tasted blood, but he didn't have enough energy to wonder about what was bleeding. He heard Meredith screaming above the rain, high screeches of protest as the dark figure's breath got more and more shallow, so shallow that if Mark could get up, he'd probably be able to overtake him. With a grunt of effort he tried to push off his opponent, but it was useless, his arms just fell back to rest weakly on the ground. She was crying now, desperate sobs as it grew colder and darker and wetter; as his vision slowly faded into black.
Derek, noticing Mark's eyelids slide closed, stumbled back and nearly ran into Meredith as she frantically tried to reach Mark, still slightly tipsy from tequila. Derek watched while she sank down to cradle Mark's head in her lap, as she shot him a glare filled with disappointment and concern. Tracks of tears were mingling with rain and mud on her face and her eyes were bloodshot from alcohol. She sniffled and brought a hand up to wipe her nose as the other traced the bruises already forming on Mark's face.
"What the hell did you do Derek," she mumbled in between sobs, "what the hell did you do?"
He shook his head slowly and frowned, like he couldn't understand what she was saying.
"Is he…is he okay?"
"He's breathing, if that's what you mean," she snapped, and then, realizing that she'd need his help, calmed down enough to ask, "Can you help me take him to Seattle Grace?"
He nodded, feeling more and more numb with each passing second. Then, stepping forward and looping one of his arms through Mark's while Meredith did the same, he started to drag his ex-best friend to the hospital.
They walked painfully slow, so slow that what should have been a two minute walk took them nearly fifteen minutes. Meredith was nearly hysterical by the time they reached the sliding glass doors.
"If he doesn't wake up…I swear to god I will kill you Derek Shepherd. Do you hear me? I will kill you."
Derek nodded weakly, looking as if the gravity of what had just happened was sinking in.
"Oh god," he murmured, "What about Hannah?"
They were dragging him into an empty room, and Derek looked like he was about to keel over with regret.
"I don't know," she said once they had set him down on the paper white sheets, "Hand me that thread."
Her voice was scratched with emotion as he handed over the jet black thread that was resting on a nearby cart. He clicked on a light to shine in Mark's eyes. At least his pupils dilated. Meredith looked like she was about to burst into tears again and the fact that he was still unconscious was not helping her nerves. Her hands, however, remained still until she tied off his stitches and started to tend to his other injuries.
"You're a freaking brain surgeon," she said, after bandaging a particularly gruesome cut, "can't you do something?"
"He doesn't have a concussion or anything," Derek assured, "he'll be fine. All he needs is time to recover."
"How long will his face look like this?"
"A couple weeks. Mer," he said, "he'll be fine."
"No thanks to you."
He sighed, "I'm sorry. But after everything that's happened this year I just…cracked. It won't happen again."
Sniffling again, she nodded, "It better not."
He laid a gentle hand on hers but she shrugged off his touch.
"He'll be alright," Derek insisted, almost as if he was convincing himself, letting his fall back to his side limply.
--
"Where's Dad?"
"I don't know, sweetie," Addison said for the hundredth time, "Now can you please get ready for bed?"
She'd never really connected with Hannah, at least not in the same sense as Derek had. There was always something missing, some part of Hannah that Addison had never really reached. They loved each other-that much was clear- but they both knew that Addison was more of a stepmother to Hannah. Hannah obeyed her, for the most part, except tonight, when Derek still hadn't shown up as he'd promised he would.
"Dad isn't here yet," Hannah said, as if that explained everything, "He said he'd be here before I went to bed."
"I don't know where your father is but it's late. You can't stay up forever, Hannah."
"I know but-"
"No buts. Go brush your teeth and put on your pajamas."
Hannah folded her arms across her chest defiantly.
"I bet Meredith would let me stay up for Dad," she mumbled.
Addison stopped flicking through the pages of People and looked up over her reading glasses.
"What did you just say?" she asked.
"I said, 'I bet Meredith would let me stay up for Dad'."
"Meredith isn't here," Addison said coldly, "And I don't want to hear anything like that from you again."
"You're not my mother," Hannah shot back, instantly regretting her words as she saw her adoptive mother's face crumple with hurt, "I mean-"
"I know exactly what you meant. Go brush your teeth and put on your pajamas," she repeated, pushing her glasses back up her nose and actively ignoring her daughter. Hannah dutifully shrunk off towards the bathroom, if only to avoid the tense silence that had followed her words. Once Hannah was gone, Addison reached across the bed to pick up the hotel phone, automatically punching the familiar numbers to her husband's phone.
--
Meredith had finished stitching Mark and was now perched on a metal chair next to his bed, clutching one of his hands as if that was the only thing keeping him alive. She was biting her lip, her brow furrowed with concern, focusing all of her attention on the unconscious man in the bed.
"Do you think we should throw some water on his face or something?" Derek asked timidly, momentarily forgetting who he was.
"I'm the intern, you're the surgeon," she snapped, then softened as her gaze drifted back down to Mark, "How the hell am I supposed to think about playing doctor while he's in this hospital bed because of you?"
Shepherd shifted awkwardly on his feet, not bothering to answer her. He knew her well enough to know that she wasn't expecting one. The silence was broken by his phone, the bleeping ringtone filling the room and making Meredith jump in surprise. He pulled out his phone from the pocket of his perfectly worn out jeans and pressed it to his ear.
"Addie?"
Meredith cocked her head in interest.
"No, I don't-look, Addison…there was an accident."
Meredith scoffed.
"Just get down here, okay? I think you'll want to be here. Bring Hannah."
He ended the call.
"So she's coming," Meredith said.
"She's coming."
"Great. Now not only do I have to worry about the father of my kid, I also have to worry about making small talk with your wife."
"Stop picking a fight," Derek growled, "We both have things we're pissed about but now is not the time to deal with them."
"Fine," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, "But that doesn't mean that I'll talk to you."
"Thank God," he mumbled, but looked appropriately humble as she shot him a steely glare, "did I mention you look pretty?"
She sighed, uncrossing her arms and letting them fall limply to her sides, "You and Mark are way too much alike for your own good."
"Why do you think I punched him in the first place?"
AN: I know, I know, some readers are throwing tomatoes at me right now. Sorry about the lack of updates, but again, I can't promise that they'll be any better in the coming weeks. I'm just starting college, so actually, the updates might get even fewer. But, because I like to write, I'll do my best in giving you more chapters sooner. Thank you so much for all your AMAZING reviews (déjà vu?) and keep 'em coming!