Hello everyone! I am sorry for not updating in eight months, but I lost all of my inspiration to write it, started writing other things, and completely forgot about it. But my inspiration has returned and so, we have a new chapter. Updates won't come quickly because I am in school, but I promise there will not be another eight month gap.

Disclaimer: All of these characters belong to Shonda.

Please, read, review, and enjoy Chapter 12 of Beautiful Treachery

The din of hundreds of conversations filled the room, as women greeted friends and gossiped behind fans, men talked of their hunting trips, and men and women shared timid laughs. Derek glanced around the room, trying to forget the woman who hung on his arm. Addison flipped her hair and laughed at a joke left unsaid, her dancing eyes looking upon him. He avoided her gaze, much to her dismay. Instead, his eyes remained trained on the front door, waiting, watching for her. His eyes flicked over to the side and realized, with increasing anger, that someone else was watching for her, too.

Mark stood close to the door, his hands awkwardly shoved into his pockets. He periodically glanced out the window, down to the street lined with waiting carriages, but not the one he was looking for. His eyes dropped to the floor and he nervously shuffled his feet, as women walked arm in arm past him and whispered behind gloved hands. He peeked over at Derek, but seeing the glare coming from his best friend, the steel blue eyes quickly fell to his shoes. The polished black carriage that glided to a stop outside caught his eye and he breathed a sigh of relief as he watched her step gracefully out of the carriage. She walked slowly up the way and was invited in by a maid, who took her outerwear. Mark rushed over to Meredith, quickly taking her arm, and Meredith smiled warmly at him.

"Hello Mr. Sloan," she said gaily, as they started to walk about the room.

"Hello Miss Grey. I hope you are well," Mark replied, his eyes twinkling as he studied her face.

"I am quite well," Meredith answered, loud enough so Derek could hear. She cast a fleeting glance in his direction and watched as his shoulders visibly relaxed. Turning her gaze back to Mark, "I hope you are as well."

"Indeed I am," Mark said, as they moved past Derek and Addison. He placed his hand over hers and squirmed as he felt Derek's angry gaze bore into his back. He attempted to cover his discomfort, but his relaxed smile appeared to be more of a forced grimace. He turned his head slightly and steel blue met dark, stormy blue and quickly turned back to Meredith, unable to bear the weight of those eyes.

He turned her gently into one of the drawing rooms, away from most of the party, with the exception of two young girls just breaking into the workings of New York society sitting on a settee covered in black velvet. Seeing two of the people they spent hours gossiping about, they hastened out of the room, trying to hide their crimson cheeks behind their fans.

Finding themselves alone, Mark removed his hand from her elbow and gestured to the settee the girls had vacated. Meredith situated herself daintily as Mark took up a high backed chair across from her.

"How was your trip to Massachusetts?" Mark asked, looking into her sea green eyes.

Heat started to rise to Meredith's cheeks at that question. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. "It was… nice," she finally replied, her eyes meeting his briefly. Her arm folded over her stomach, concealed by many layers of fabric. Much to her horror and delight, she had discovered that a small, but still noticeable bump had formed there a few days before. She glanced down at it quickly, before looking back up at Mark. "It was so nice to get away from the city for awhile. The monotony of this place becomes so tiring."

"I know exactly what you mean," Mark said, smiling at her. She smiled back, but the smile turned sour as a wave of nausea hit her. She could feel the color drain from her face as she gripped the arm of the settee and she knew that Mark noticed by the sudden gravity of his face. Meredith glanced down at her stomach and fought the urge to curse the child growing there, as she tried to not heave there in the drawing room of the Torres' mansion.

"Mark, I have something I need to tell you," she said quietly as she pressed her hands to her temples, trying to clear her head. He leaned forward and looked at her in earnest. "I am not feeling well, but if you will accompany me home, I will tell you there."

He nodded once and helped her to her feet, placing a protective hand around her waist as she wobbled out of the room. All eyes turned to them as they walked up to Calliope Torres, the host of the luncheon, including Derek's. Worry etched lines into his face as he watched them talk to her, Mark's face worried also and Meredith's, incredibly pale and sickly.

"Miss Torres," Mark started, "regrettably, Miss Grey is not feeling well and, due to her state, I will be accompanying her on her trip home. We are deeply sorry we cannot stay for your luncheon."

"Oh, that is quite alright, Mr. Sloan. I hope you feel better soon, Miss Grey," Calliope answered, touching her hand lightly to Meredith's shoulder. Meredith smiled weakly and the two turned toward the door. The maid retrieved Meredith's things and Mark helped her into her cloak and guided her out the door. Derek's worried eyes watched them leave and he fought the urge to run after her, to make sure she was alright. He stared after them long after they left, completely oblivious to the exasperated Addison standing next to him.

Meredith pressed her face to the cold glass, praying that the sickness would leave before she was placed in a compromising position in front of her fiancé. Mark sat across from her, watching her every move with concerned eyes. She glanced apologetically at him before leaning forward and placing her head between her knees. He reached his hand tentatively out to her, gripping her sweating hand in his and rubbing slow circles in the back of it. He moved over to sit next to her and slowly kneaded at the large knot in her shoulders. Within moments, the knot in her shoulders released and soon after, the knot in her stomach did as well. She slowly sat back up and smiled weakly at him, as he placed his hand back in his lap.

"Did you catch some illness while on your vacation?" Mark asked, noticing still how pale she looked.

"That's what I need to talk to you about," Meredith replied, unable to look him in the eye. "Could we wait until we arrive back at the house? It's something that should not be discussed in a carriage."

"Yes, of course," Mark said, apprehension darkening his face. They rode the rest of the way in silence, never looking at each other, letting the silence envelope them in anxiety and fear.

The carriage finally pulled up to the house, its cab rocking precariously. Meredith gripped the door handle, as the rocking motion sent her stomach reeling again. She quickly pushed down the handle, rushing past a bewildered Spencer and up to the mansion. Mark watched her run away from him and tried to follow close behind. Meredith flung open the door and dashed up the stairs, leaving Mark standing in the foyer with a surprised Thatcher Grey.

Thatcher tore his eyes away from the stairs that Meredith was pounding up and turned to Mark. "What happened?" he asked.

"She began to feel ill while at the luncheon, so I accompanied her home. It appears that the sickness has gotten the better of her," Mark replied, listening for sounds of Meredith upstairs, but feeling ashamed for doing so. He should not have even been there, let alone listening for signs as to whether or not his fiancée was getting sick upstairs. He stood there awkwardly in the foyer with Thatcher for a few more minutes and watched maids rush up and down the stairs, fetching towels and water. Things must not have been good.

Several minutes later, Meredith emerged from the bathroom and walked slowly down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing.

"Darling, are you alright?" Thatcher asked when she reached them.

"Yes, I'm fine," Meredith replied, smiling weakly. "Mark and I are just going to go into the parlor and discuss some wedding details. You can go back to your work."

"Alright," Thatcher said before pressing a kiss to Meredith's forehead. "But if you begin to feel ill again, I am calling the doctor."

Fear lit Meredith's eyes, try as she might to suppress it. "Oh, I'm sure I'll be fine, Father."

He looked at her pale face once more before walking into his study and shutting the door. Meredith walked into the parlor and sat in one of the chairs, Mark following close behind. After sitting down as well, he looked at Meredith in earnest, waiting for this important news. "What is it you needed to tell me?" he urged, after she did not start immediately.

"Mark, there is no easy way for me to tell you this and I pray that you will take it well, but will understand completely if you don't and want to call off the engagement. I certainly would if I were you. I mean, it could be just devastating," Meredith said in a rush, her expression frantic.

Mark reached out a hand and placed it on her arm, forcing her to stop. "Meredith, you're rambling. And you're frantic. Whatever it is, I'm sure I will understand," he said with a smile that made the ice around Meredith's heart melt slightly. She tore her eyes from him and they rested on her slightly protruding stomach.

"Mark, I'm… I'm pregnant," she whispered.

Silence fell over them like a suffocating blanket, as Mark removed his hand from her arm and sat back in his chair. Meredith lifted her tear-rimmed eyes to him and found him just staring at her, his face expressionless. His eyes flashed, but she could not tell what emotion was plaguing him.

"I see," he said as he got up and walked to the window, staring out to the street below.

Meredith lifted unsteadily to her feet and walked over to him, staring at his back. "I am so sorry," she murmured, as she placed her hand on his back. He stepped away from her and her hand fell back to her side. "I know I am nothing better than a whore to you right now and I know that you have absolutely no obligation to answer my request, but I am asking you, I am begging you to stay. Not just for me, but for your best friend and his life, and for my father, and for my child. He or she is going to need a father and, since it can't have its biological father, it should have the next best thing. Please, Mark, don't leave."

He turned back to her, pain shadowing his eyes. "I'm not going to leave," he said gruffly. "We both said when I proposed that this was not a marriage occurring out of love, but business, so I guess I should not be surprised by this. But I don't know how I can love this child as my own when it is not my own, when it is the child of my best friend. If he was someone you and I were never going to see again, it would be easier, but he's Derek. He's the man I see every day. He's the man I would trust with my life. He's the man who trusts his with me. Meredith, I can't look at that child every day and see Derek staring back up at me. I can't claim it as my own when Derek is glaring at me from across the room. I wish I could, but I can't."

"I know," Meredith whispered. "I know. That's why I hate asking this of you. But I have to. All of our lives would be ruined if I didn't."

"Mine wouldn't," Mark said, turning back away. "If I walked away right now, I would emerge completely unscathed."

"I know. I was just hoping you were a better man than that. Mark, we need you."

He frantically ran his hand through his hair, the emotions visibly fighting behind his eyes. He glared down at the street below, at the people passing by in their carriages who did not have to be faced with this torment. Heaving a sigh, he finally turned back to her, taking in her tear streaked face. The emotions broke behind his eyes and a small smile toyed at his lips. "I guess I'm a better man than I thought I was," he said with a chuckle.

A smile lit Meredith's face as she pulled Mark into a hug not usually allowed between a man and woman who weren't married. "Thank you," she cried, as more tears spilled down her face through her smiles. Mark pulled back and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

"We will figure this out. We will figure out some way for Derek to be involved in the child's life. We will figure out a way for me to love the child. We will figure out a way to grow to love each other, even if it is not some passionate love. I will put everything into being your husband, Meredith Grey."

"And I will put everything into being your wife, Mark Sloan," Meredith said with a smile, as she gently kissed his cheek. She led him back to the chair and they sat down, looking at each other with a smile.

"Well, we will need to move the wedding up now," Mark said, leaning back into his chair. He cleared his throat before uncomfortably asking, "Do you know how far along you are?"

"Not for certain, but I am guessing eight to ten weeks. I am starting to show slightly, if that is what you are asking," she said, while placing her arm around her stomach concealed under layers of fabric.

"Then the wedding will have to be soon."

"Yes, I'm afraid it will."

"Have you talked to your father?"

"No!" Meredith said fiercely. "He would have Derek murdered and have me abort the baby and placed in a convent if he knew. He can never know."

"Then do we just tell him we want to be married sooner. He's going to be suspicious if we do that. And if he's not, my father and certainly my mother will be."

"That's the only way. There's nothing else we can say that won't sound even more suspicious."

"I guess you're right," Mark said, running his hand through his hair. "Should we go talk to your father now?"

"I suppose we should," Meredith said, her voice not disguising her dread. She and Mark hesitantly got to their feet and walked to the door of Thatcher's study. Their eyes connected for a moment before Mark rapped on the door. They heard Thatcher's call from within and opened the door. He looked up from his paper, his face lightening at the sight of the two young people.

"Please, come in," he said gaily, gesturing for them to take a seat. "What can I do for you?" he asked, his eyes eagerly flicking from Mark's face to Meredith's.

"Sir, Meredith and I were wondering if we could possibly be married sooner. I know that we agreed on a wedding next spring, but we want to be married sooner," Mark said, wringing his hands.

"Oh, that's wonderful. I didn't think you two had any inkling of affection for each other. It is delightful to hear that I was wrong," he said with a smile. Mark tried to smile warmly at Meredith and she mustered up as much of a loving look as she could. Mark took her hand and gently squeezed it. Much to Meredith delight and slight dismay, it felt very comfortable. "When would you like to be married?"

"As soon as possible," Meredith said eagerly. "Within the next week, if possible. It doesn't have to be a large wedding. I would actually prefer it if it wasn't."

"My, you two are eager," Thatcher chuckled, winking at Mark. He smiled back and Meredith tried to hold down the bile rising in her throat. She had to keep up the charade. "That should not be a problem. I will contact the church tomorrow."

"Thank you, Father," Meredith said, gratefully.

"Yes, thank you, sir," Mark said as well.

"Who should we invite?" Thatcher asked.

"Just close friends," Meredith said. "I don't have many friends since we haven't been here long, only Isobel Stevens, but I don't know her well. Mark, I'm sure there are people you want to invite."

"Yes," he replied. "Um, I would like to invite Derek and Addison will come with him if he does. I would actually like him to be my best man, if that is alright."

"Yes, of course," Meredith said, her eyes falling to the ground. "Isobel can be my maid of honor, unless, Father, you will allow Christina to be it."

"Meredith, she's a maid. She can't be your maid of honor."

"But Father, she is the only true friend I have. After Ann and Mother died, she was the only person I could turn to. Please."

"No, I will not allow it. Just imagine what it will do to us. You're already getting married a whole year before you were originally going to and now you want a maid to be your maid of honor. We would be the laughing stock of Manhattan."

"Fine," Meredith said, resigned. "Isobel Stevens will be my maid of honor."

"Is there anyone else you want to invite?" he asked.

"Well, since Isobel will be coming, Alexander Karev, her fiancé, should come as well. And Calliope Torres has been very kind to me since we came."

"What about your friends from Boston?"

"No," Meredith said quickly. "I have a new life here. I do not want to invite them."

"Fine," Thatcher said, turning to Mark. "What about you, Mark?"

"My entire family will need to come, so that will be my mother, father, three sisters, their husbands, and all of their children. We could also invite Archer Montgomery, Addison's brother. We have gone on several hunting trips together and he has become a close friend."

"I will have a maid send out the invitations tomorrow," Thatcher said. "Will you be getting a dress, Meredith?"

"Actually, I would like to wear Mother's dress, if I could?"

"Absolutely, dear. That would honor her in the utmost way."

"Thank you, Father," Meredith said, a smile lighting her face.

"Is there anything else?" Thatcher asked, his eyes travelling back down to his paper.

"No, that is all," Mark said, as he and Meredith got to their feet. They smiled at him gratefully before walking out of the room. Walking into the foyer, they stopped and turned to each other.

"I must leave now. I have to tell my father," Mark said, as a maid went to fetch his things.

"Thank you for being so understanding, Mark. You have no idea how grateful I am," Meredith said, smiling up at him.

"Like I said, I guess I'm a better man than I thought I was," Mark said, chuckling. "But now I must leave. I will see you at the alter, Miss Grey." Dipping his head to her, he walked out the door and down to his waiting carriage.

The lace veil fell gently over Meredith's face, masking her terror. Her hair fell in soft curls down her back, as the simple, elegant dress settled around her petite, yet growing, frame. She wrung her hands nervously, as Christina flitted about her. She stared into the mirror, looking into her strained eyes through the lace.

Finally, Christina turned to her, a slight smile on her face. "You're ready," she said, "and beautiful. A beautiful bride."

"Thank you, Christina," Meredith said, getting to her feet and turning to look at her. "I am sorry about everything I have put you through. I never meant for everything to go so far."

"I'm sorry for being so harsh with you. I forgot my place and if I had been working for anyone else, I would have been fired. I can only thank you for that."

"Then all is forgiven?"

"Yes, all is forgiven. Now, it is time for you to go. The march is beginning."

Meredith heaved a sigh as she walked to the door. She found her father waiting outside the door and, taking his arm, they walked slowly down the aisle. All eyes rested on them, making Meredith's stomach turn. She could feel Derek's gaze boring into her, even as she avoided his eyes. She put her eyes only on Mark, the smiling man waiting for her at the head of the church. She reassured herself over and over that this was the right thing to do, that all would be fine, that she was not making a mistake. Her eyes moved from Mark to the stained glass in front of her. The eyes of the saints looked down on her and she sent up silent prayers to them, prayers for deliverance. But before they could answer her pleas, she was to Mark, her father giving her away. The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, Derek's accusing glances on her face the entire time.

Mark's hands lifted to her veil and he pulled it away, revealing her beautiful face. She smiled warmly at him, as she heard him say "I do."

Her stomach dropped to her feet when the minister turned to her. She breathed deeply through her nose, trying to calm her pounding heart, as she heard him say, "Do you, Meredith Grey, take Mark Sloan to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

Meredith felt her head begin to swim as those final, condemning words passed from her lips. "I do."

She tried to rustle up a smile as Mark smiled down at her. They clasped hands and carefully slipped the rings onto their fingers. The elegant gold band twinkled up at Meredith, as she tried to hold down the grimace that was quickly forming on her face. She tried to quickly cover it with a smile, as Mark beamed down at her.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," she heard the minister announce. "You may now kiss the bride."

She tried to keep her focus on Mark as he leaned in toward her, but her eyes flicked back to study Derek's face. His eyes dropped to the floor, his face overtaken by a complete devastated look. She so wanted to rush to him, comfort him, tell him that he was the only one she could ever love, but before she could take that condemning step, her lips were captured by Mark's. His lips moved against hers and she found hers moving with them. She knew that in that warm kiss blew the winds of change, sweeping her away from all that she desired. But as she sank further into the kiss, maybe all that she desired was not lost.

I'm sure I didn't get all of the details and the order of the wedding ceremony right, but I did not want to put many details into the wedding, only the important things. Once again, I hope you enjoyed it.