I own nothing. you know that.

big thanks go out to my Beta - Best thing since cookies (she's a champion) - if there bits that aren't fixed up, its cause i had last minute ideas and couldn't wait, sorry! I had to up load...i think i'm addicted. but the first step is admitting it, right?

Aaah you people reviewed! I know we've only been seeing each other for a short time, but...i love you guys! Although i'm really serious about you...I don't want to give away the ship just yet. you'll cope!

some one suggested that i stole my ideas from their story. i can assure you that I took most of my first chapters straight from the show (well how i saw it). I wrote this fic because I like the character of Mark and wanted to see him put up a bit of a fight (ok, i just can't say no to another hottie). Right before i posted i found a story by 'the Trouble' it's really well written, but eerily similar - i was freaked out! but i did pm to say what had happened. Look, we don't have a lot to work with when it come to the character of Mark. But i can assure you that this story has been floating around my stupid head non-stop at the moment!

Okay the title/song is by Ryan Adams - and it's beautiful!

Chapter four

Night Birds

Life is all about our feelings and how we choose to deal with them…are we born with them? Are they just a produced by masses of neurons, sending little electric shocks through our brain? We are told they are there to separate us from robots, or inanimate objects…like the couch or chair you may or may not be sitting on.

o

"I paid for the furniture as well," Mark said, confused.

"Didn't make it," mumbled Meredith who had collapsed on the floor and was leaning on the back of the nearest couch.

He'd just entered his hotel room, carefully hooking take away boxes and wine glasses on alternating fingers, but had stopped in the entrance to stare amusedly at the exhausted intern on his carpet.

"Picnic it is then!" he said with mock-enthusiasm, unhooking the wine glasses and placing them on the floor. "Chicken?"

"Yeah."

"Catch," he said, throwing the cardboard contraption at Meredith.

"What are you doing!" Meredith yelped, waking fully, scrambling to catch the box and turn it right side up. "That could've gone everywhere!"

"But it didn't, did it?"

"What did you think you were doing?"

"It's just a bit of cardboard, and yet it seals perfectly well on the first few throws."

Meredith just looked at him curtly.

He laughed at her disgruntled look. "You…" he started, pouring two generous glasses of wine, "need to lighten up a little."

o

Apparently, they make us human. People say that our feelings should be communicated to our loved ones. But good communication is as stimulating as good coffee…and just as hard to sleep after.

o

"This," Addison said, waving her hand quickly in the air, "is a very pleasant surprise."

"So it's a cheap fast food meal that makes you happy, Addison," Derek joked. "I have been aiming too high."

"Brings back horrible memories of my budding career path…working the deep fryer. But I'm prepared to put that aside…"

"That's so generous of you," he said, through a mouthful of beefburger. There was a silence. Neither wanted to be the one to bring their marriage up.

"We don't back away from a fight Derek." Addison said slowly, fiddling with the chips spread out on the burger wrapper.

"Our marriage shouldn't be a fight…"

"Our marriage is a war." Addison said, softly. "A war, with television coverage, that's beamed into everyone's homes by the evening news."

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"You don't appreciate anything unless you've earned it."

"…I don't think we're ready…"

"I don't think we'll ever be ready…" Addison said, "We just have to grin and bear it."

"What if we can't?

"Then maybe it's not worth it." Addison sighed, staring at the food neither could be bothered eating. "The way I see it: he's just another Meredith. And she's been here the whole time, and…I don't know, Derek. We've gotten this far."

"He's just another Meredith?"

"We can do this?" Addison asked tentatively

"We seem to have done everything else."

o

An open and discarded wine bottle lay on its side. A tiny red drop lay unnoticed on the carpet. A half eaten takeaway box of chicken noodles sat inside an empty one, and was placed at the feet of the two picnickers who were sitting side by side…resting on the back of the couch.

"So," Mark started, "Since we're planning all this, we should probably discuss the type of couple we are."

"Oh, we're not a couple," Meredith corrected. "Last time I checked, I was being wooed."

"You can't play hard to get tonight, not when you spent last night so drunk and…easy"

"…Seriously?" asked Meredith, slightly insulted

"Again…" Mark said, amused, "you need to lighten up."

She glared at him, the wine giving her a playful edge. "Okay…public displays of affection?"

"For 'em"

"I shouldn't be surprised…" Meredith muttered, "Don't you ever feel uncomfortable when you're at a party, sitting on a sofa. Innocently chatting. And the person you're talking to stops. And you turn around. And there are two people you don't know, just…going for it?"

"It's an effective way of communicating your feelings!" he said defensively.

"To everyone else?"

"Didn't want everyone to know you were with Derek?"

"This isn't about Derek." She said "and besides, I'm an inturn, he's an attending."

"If I was getting that kind of action when I was an inturn, I'd…make tapes! Everyone would know."

"You wouldn't care about your job?" Meredith asked, shrewdly

"You're either good at what you do, or you're not." He said simply, "I'm good. And you were either ashamed of your relationship, or you're not good at what you do."

"It's more complicated then that." Meredith protested

"Sure it is!" He laughed. "Nick names?"

"Nope." She said, relieved at the subject change, "Never really got into it. Can't handle the whole 'Baby' thing."

"And you shouldn't." He said, pulling up a sleeve and looking at his flexed his bicep. "You want to date a real man!"

"What have I gotten myself into here?" she laughed, pushing his arm away

"A no-sofa-sex-all-man-disaster!" he said grinning

"Let's say, hypothetically, that they," and she didn't have to say who she was talking about, "prove a little harder to…convince. How long do we wait till we call it? Hypothetically."

"You're a pessimist."

"Well it means that if something goes wrong I was expecting it and if it doesn't, I'm pleasantly surprised."

"I'm meeting with your head of surgery in two days to apply for a two month…trial, I think he's calling it," he said, standing up. "Sound like enough?"

"Where are you going?"

"I have to take you home, right?"

"Oh…yes..."

o

Assorted bags of cooking ingredients were sprawled across the massive kitchen. Izzy had no problem creating a mess when she wanted to bake. She had flour in her hair and her apron didn't quite fulfil its job, but she happily wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, satisfied with her adjusted biscuit recipe. Alex was simply satisfied licking the bowl. They heard the door open.

"Is that her?" Izzy asked, putting the final try in the oven, "Alex, check who it is."

"Who is it?" Alex called, looking up from his bowl.

"I could have done that!" She said, feigning anger, pulling out the tea towel.

"Whoa there!" he said, taking a step back and putting the bowl down, "do you know what you're starting?" He reached for his own tea towel.

"Someone, Alex," said Izzy, through giggles, brandishing her tea towel, "has to teach you a lesson!"

George came into the kitchen just in time to see Alex lift Izzy over his shoulder.

"O'Malley!" Alex yelled, strangely like his brothers.

"George, help!" Izzy said, laughing and screaming protests at Alex.

He took one disgusted look at the wrestling pair and went up-stairs. He was sure Izzy didn't really mind her fate.

o

There was no conversation on the way home. He tried not to look over to Meredith, stop it from being awkward.

They'd been spoiled. To only know each other a few days and have completely relaxed conversation? Too good to be true.

He turned the corner into her street, a little sharper then he had intended and Meredith's head gently hit the window.

"You alright there?" he asked, laughing. There was no response. She must have been sleeping the whole ride. He laughed at his own self-consciousness. He pulled up to the front of the house.

"Meredith…" he said. Her hair was over her face. She didn't move. "Meredith!" He got out and went to the other side of the car, gently opening the door.

"Meredith?" he said loudly this time. He grabbed her wrist. "Not responding to external stimuli…pulse alright...breathing regular, if a bit slow. Meredith! You're either unconscious or sleeping deeply…Meredith! I hope it's the latter." He undid her seatbelt and picked her up, closing the car door with a kick.

She adjusted and leaned against him as he carried her up the steps. He smiled to himself; trust the Doctor to immediately jump to the worst conclusion. She was asleep. He needed to lighten up a little.

He'd knocked on the door before he'd realised what he'd done. Alex answered. He'd opened the door and stood there smiling slyly.

"Who is it?" Izzy called from the kitchen.

Alex looked at Dr. Sloan, silently asking if he wanted his presence known. He raised

his eyebrows and Alex quickly moved aside.

"Alex! I asked you to tell…" she came out of the kitchen and stopped. "Oh…"

"Hi," Mark said, trying to fill the awkward silence "…she might look small, but she's getting heavy…"

"Right," said Izzy with a grimace

"I'll get the door," Alex said, leading him up the stairs.

o

"Alright, what was that?" Izzy asked, leaning back on a kitchen bench, arms folded, as Alex returned to the kitchen alone.

"So she's doing Sloan," Alex said simply. "You knew that."

"But what's with the carrying her in, in his arms, dead to the world?"

"She's your friend."

"Sorry," Mark said, poking his head around the corner. "I didn't mean to come in."

"That's not a problem. Dr Sloan." Said Alex, sucking up to his new hero.

"I think," he said, looking over at Izzy, "That I am a bit of a problem."

"No! She doesn't think that!"

"I'm still a person." He said staring directly at Izzy and ignoring Alex, "And, there are worse people out there."

Izzy and Alex didn't have time to think of a response, because Mark and his momentary lapse from his nonchalant character had quickly turned and left the house.

o

Dr. Richard Webber glanced over his glasses at Dr Sloan. The chief's glance then returned to the résumé that lay on the table.

He hadn't spoken yet, and Mark was growing anxious. He was going to lie, blatantly, to the Chief of surgery at Seattle Grace Hospital. He had no fear of the consequences; in fact he was embracing them. Where had this reckless behaviour come from? It must have come from his love for Addison…but nothing had changed, not recently. Was it seeing her again…with him? No…it was meeting Derek's intern.

"You're an impressive surgeon, Dr Sloan."

"Thank you, Dr Webber," Mark replied, leaving his thoughts. "I've worked very hard to get to where I am today."

"Which begs the question…why are you coming to Seattle? You know there is a lot more support for your field in New York."

"Dr Webber, in New York there is a constant pressure on me to perform elective cosmetic surgery," he said. "I'll admit, I've conceded…hell, I've conceded enough to never work again. Sir, that's not why I became a surgeon. It was your Craniodiaphyseal dysplasia patient, the lionitis, that's why I did it. I want to start afresh, away from the…arrogance of New York."

"Your skills would be more then welcome here, Dr Sloan," the chief said, "but please don't pretend that this move is entirely professional."

"Dr Webber, I'm attempting to start afresh," he said. "I admit I originally came to Seattle to see what condition their marriage was in. I don't have a chance…and I don't think I want to. Not with Addison. But…Derek and I, we first met when we were seventeen. Time heals all wounds, Dr. Webber, and I want to set things straight."

"I can't promise anything near the salary you received in New York. But you would have the plastics department to improve and all the emergency cases you can handle."

"I can't thank you enough, Dr. Webber," he said, holding out his hand to shake. "I'm not out to cause trouble."

"You have to avoid the Shepherds and keep this hospital functional." Richard warned, withholding his hand "If, for a moment, I think the equilibrium of this hospital has been upset, I won't hesitate to send you packing."

"The hospital comes first," Mark chimed, smiling, still holding out his hand.

"You can start tomorrow." The chief replied and reluctantly shook hands with his new, temporary, attending.

o

Mark left the chief's office just in time to catch Dr Webber's two o'clock appointment: Derek and Addison Shepherd.

He was faced with two cold stares as he passed through the door. He made sure he'd walked three steps in the opposite direction before he turned to look at Addison. She surely didn't mean to treat him so frostily …but she didn't stop or turn around, and within seconds the office door was closed.

o

Your feelings rule everything that you do. Every moral or immoral decision you make. They are our senses. Our own human way of navigating through life…Someone once said: You can close your eyes to the things you do not want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you do not want to feel. But we'll still try…

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