He couldn't do this. Not now. Not in ten minutes. Not tomorrow. Not in three days. Not in a week. Not in a month. Not in a year. After all, he never even wanted this.

First of all, he never wanted this to happen. In fact, this would have been near the top, or possibly even at the top, of his list, if he had even considering the possibility of it happening. Who died at thirty-three? People died when they were old. When their hearts were clogged after sixty years of eating the wrong food. When their brains were already going due to their seniority. When their bones were turning to dust. People were supposed to die once they've lived. And, despite how long thirty-three years was, no one that age had really lived yet. No doctor, at least. He'd dedicated his life to saving people. In a few years, he'd get promoted and life would get a little easier. That's when he'd find a wife and settle with two or three kids. That was always his dream. He was always on about that bloody dream, and Mark always just found himself laughing at him. After all, men like them weren't built to spend their lives with just one singular woman. Right now though, he'd gladly listen to him go on and on about his life plan.

Second of all, he didn't want to do this. This. Right here. This...process. The one where they pull the tube out of his mouth. The one where they stop all the life-saving medication, and inject ones to make his comfortable. Comfortable. He hated that word. As if dying could possibly be comfortable.

The phrase 'now or never' was often wrong. A lot of things happened lots of times, and opportunities sometimes came back around. But this wasn't one of those scenarios. Once Derek was gone, he was gone.

So it really was now or never.

"No."

That was...something. Now or never.

The whole room turned to look at him at that. It was barely a word. Barely a squeak. Barely a sound. But they heard it. They all heard it.

"Mark-" Carolyn named, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. She had a painful half-smile. One that was trying so hard to be sympathetic and kind, despite the fact, inside, she was completely destroyed.

"I can't..." He swallowed. "Just...no-"

"You and Carolyn both signed the papers to-" The chief attempted to remind him.

"I know." He acknowledged. Of course he knew. As if he could ever forget.

"You talked about this, and decided to-" He tried again.

"Well, I withdraw consent." He interrupted. "I withdraw my consent. You hear me? You're not killing him today. You're not killing him any day."

"We talked about this, Mark. Letting someone go is very different from-" He attempted.

"I. Said. Plug. Him. Back. In!" He shouted as he stood.

They stared into each others eyes for a long moment. Both were shiny with tears, but Mark's had an accompanying emotion. Anger. Well, it sure looked like anger, the fiery, aggressivekind of anger, but they all knew what it really was. Mark was scared. Scared to death.

Then again, they all were.

The chief then looked to Carolyn, who was biting at her lip with the same tears in her eyes. Eventually, she nodded.

He sighed and looked up to the nurses in the room. "Okay. Dr Sloan is withdrawing his consent, so we will continue will life sustaining measures. Poppy, could you sort out his medications again?"

One of the nurses nodded, and started pushing medication into his IV. Luckily, the process wasn't far enough along for a reversal to cause chaos.

"I think we want to give Mark some time alone with-" Derek. Her son. Her child. Her baby. Who was about to die. Until he wasn't. She was finally about to let him go after over three weeks, and Mark had prevented that. She couldn't be angry though, really. She understood. She understood him better than anyone. She swallowed, "Um- I just think we should go outside."

"Mom-" Lizzie protested. This was unfair. Carolyn had consulted with them before signing, and they had all agreed. Today was the day. He'd got particularly worse in the last few days, and none of them wanted him to suffer any longer. Mark ruined that.

"Please, girls. I know it's hard for you too but...please. He just needs some space."

"We're his sisters." Kathleen protested.

"And he's my child."

Kathleen swallowed at that, and the way her voice broke on that final word. If her mom could leave, so could she, so finally submitted, and stood. When she left, her sisters all followed without another word.

Once the door was shut and her daughters had left, she looked back to Mark. He had since slumped back into his chair, hand conjoined to Derek's. "Mark-"

"I know." He said before she could even form a sentence. He didn't look at her, just him. "I'm sorry. I know you were ready."

"But you weren't." She sighed. She placed her hand on his shoulder and rubbed it. "It's okay. I really do get it. I...I'm not sure I'm ready yet either. I think I might of stopped them if you hadn't."

He didn't respond.

"I'm going to go now, okay? Just...take a second. Talk to him. And I promise I'm not saying this because I want you to change your mind now. Just...I think you need a little more time to...process this."

"Would it really be so wrong?"

"Would what be so wrong?" She asked, confused.

"You know...if we could just-" He swallowed. "Keep him."

"He's just going to keep deteriorating, you know that."

"People keep saying that. People...people just keep saying I know this and I know that because I'm a doctor but-" He paused, and sniffled. "I'm not sure I do. It's so...different being on this side- you know?"

She smiled. "I know, Mark, I know." She reassured him before slipping out of the room.

"I really hate you. You know that?" He sighed as he looked back to his friend. "Such an ass."

Of course, he got no response, other than the beeps of his heart monitor and the hiss from his ventilator.

"If you said yes to that drink, you'd still be alive, you know that? If I hadn't argued with you in surgery and you weren't pissed at me, maybe you would have said yes and maybe..." He sighed. "Maybe you would have still been here with me."

This is when he really needed Derek. If he had stayed an extra ten seconds at the hospital, or left ten seconds later, he'd still be alive. Well, more alive. But that's how accidents always worked. It wasn't Mark's fault, even if it felt like it.

"So I think I lied. I think...I think I hate myself. You would have come home three hours later in a taxi, sloshed, instead if I hadn't been such an ass. You would have just passed the accident on the way home and thought...glad that wasn't me. Glad I'm still alive. Glad I'm still breathi-" He couldn't go on any longer as his emotions took control of him.

Mark Sloan had not sobbed...ever. In his entire life. He had cried, sure, but never like this. He'd never broken down in tears to the point where he could hardly breathe, even when he was told about Derek and first sat at his bedside. Mark Sloan had not sobbed...ever. Until today.


"How are you doing Mark?"

"Don't ask. Just-" He swallowed. "Just do it. Please."

"Okay. So...now I'm going to remove the tube. He'll probably breathe once or twice and then...then he'll stop. I'll check for a pulse, and then-" He swallowed. "And then I'll call time of death, okay?"

Mark didn't nod nor shake his head, and he had no idea if any of the others had. He'd placed his head in his hands, blocking his view of the world so all he could see was the black created by his palms.

"Removing the tube now-"

Mark waited for the machines behind the bed to explode with noise as Derek lost his airway, but they didn't.

He waited a few more seconds, although it felt like hours, and, still, the monitors continued to beep on at the same tempo.

"Mark." Carolyn's soft voice called.

Were they waiting for him to sit up and look before they pulled the tube out? Were they doing it on purpose? Did they want to see him suffer? Cry? Scream?

"Mark, look up."

He hesitated for a second, before following Carolyn's instructions.

He stared at the man, and his questioning blue eyes for a long second before smiling. "Fucking hell, Derek. We really need to work on your timing."

"Remember what I said?"

He, of course, got no response.

"I said that you had to work on your timing." He continued, despite his lack of reply. "First, you just had to be there at that specific place at that specific time to get yourself basically killed. And then, you waited until your second attempt at extubation to open your freaking eyes. Second attempt. If I hadn't chosen to stop that first termination, we would have actually killed you. And, yes, I know you're timing was technically great because you did it just before we extubated you but like...seriously? You couldn't have done that a day earlier?"

Still, nothing.

"But the point...the point is that I don't care about timings right now. Just wake up, please, Derek. I'm begging you, actually, to open your..." He paused. Open his eyes. That didn't seem awfully likely. Even when he was awake, he highly doubted he was going to see much. He sighed. "You want her, don't you?"

Nothing. Again.

"You're being stubborn with your timing again, aren't you? I'm going to sit here alone for three weeks and you're just gonna sleep, and then I'm going to let Meredith in, and you're going to wake up the second she says hello like you're mentally connected or something." He sighed. "You know this is her fault right?"

He could practically hear Derek's voice in his head, arguing with him.

"And, yes, I'm not that thick; I know it's not her fault for what she went through. Ethan seems like a horrible, horrible guy. But...Derek, she shouldn't have gone to work today. Then you two would still just be at home and you wouldn't be-" He sighed. He didn't even know what to say. Lying in hospital? Unconscious? Concussed? He swallowed. "You're clearly not going to talk to me. Is this because you're mad at me? If I leave will you wake up?"

Derek didn't reply to any of those questions.

He sighed as he stood. "Fine, mate. You win. Just wake up when she gets here, okay? Promise me that."


"Do we want to talk about it?" Cristina pondered. Meredith had dragged her into an on-call room ten minutes ago, and then locked the door behind them, but hadn't spoken since.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Meredith pondered back.

"You had a child." She stated.

"I did." She agreed. "He would be three."

She swallowed. "Planes or trains?"

"Planes or trains?" Meredith repeated.

"Dinosaurs? Cars? The little medieval men and dragons?" Cristina continued to list off. "What kinda boy do you think he'd be?"

She smiled. She couldn't help it. "Oh. Definitely a dragon kinda boy."

Cristina nodded, and smiled a little, just to be encouraging.

"I went to Germany with my mom once - she was doing this medical thing - but she had a few free hours before we left where she wasn't needed so she took me to this castle. In the gift shop, there were all these little swords, and you could buy armour, and then little toy dragons and-" She sighed. "I'd buy him that. And then, one day I'd call him to come down the stairs to leave for school, and he'd come down in his suit of armour instead of his little uniform. Of course, I'd say 'no, Sebastian, what were you thinking?'. And he'd be like...'why can't I bring a sword to school, Mom?'. And I'd just die of laughter inside because what kind of question is that? But, at the same time, I'd smile because he's just the cutest little thing, stood there with his little plastic helmet and one of those bow-and-arrows that don't even work."

She stopped for Cristina to speak, but she didn't.

"He'd be my mini knight. I mean, with a bow that can't shoot and a suit of plastic, he'd be a pretty sucky knight. But...he'd be mine." She couldn't help but smile. "He'd be a nerd. Wouldn't be able to catch a ball for his life. Not bullied but...you know, not popular. But he'd have like two really good friends so it would be fine. He'd have hair that was just really good to ruffle. And then...he'd have his great little outraged face and groan 'Mom' every single time. Same tone and pitch every time. You know?"

"Yeah." She agreed.

"He'd just be the sweetest little thing. So kind and caring. And then-" She swallowed. "When he was...I don't know, ten or so, I'd get a new boyfriend. Sebastian would think that the idea of it not just being us anymore would be despicable, but then they would meet and he would talk about some...oh, I don't know, some book series with dragons in it or something. And then this new guy would be the coolest guy ever. Coolest person ever. I would be knocked out of the number one spot so of course I'd be jealous, kind of, but I wouldn't care because they're getting along like a house on fire and I would finally have a man who loves me. And then we'd have another. A little girl this time, I think. He'd want his little toy dragon to eat the little girl, of course, when I first tell him about this new arrival. But it's fine, because she'd be the cutest little thing on the planet and Sebastian would decide to just give her his favourite dragon toy instead of telling it to eat her. And then they'd grow up, and they'd be doctors because of course they'd be doctors. And me and my guy would grow old together, get some cute little grandkids, and die happy."

"What does Derek know about dragons?" Cristina asked after a long second.

"Jessica Riosa, author of Tails of Tim, releases a new bestseller." Meredith read. "What's Tails of Tim?"

"Did you just ask me what Tails of Tim is?" Derek asked, looking at her instantly from the book he was previously looking at.

She stared at him for a second, confused. "I'm supposed to know what that is, aren't I?"

"It's only the best freaking book series ever, Meredith."

"She spelt 'tails' wrong. It can't be that good."

"Tails as in tails, Mer. Well, also as in tales but-" He sighed. "Nevermind. Not relevant. It's about Tim, who is twelve when the book starts, but is one year older each book, except between books eight and nine where he gets three years older."

Okay. She'd clearly awoken some kind of beast inside of her boyfriend. She thought it would be a bad idea to go in the book shop because he'd be bored, but she was clearly very, very wrong. "Right, okay. But what actually happens?"

"Dragons, Meredith. There's a bunch of dragons, and they're all really freaking cool."

"Dragons?" She repeated, unimpressed.

He sighed, and looked round. "Do you sell Tails of Tim here?"

"Oh. Of course!" The shopkeeper confirmed with a smile. "Any specific one?"

"Oh, I'm going to need the entire series. My girlfriend has lived her entire life without reading a single TOT book."

"I'll get them now!" She replied excitedly. "This is clearly an emergency."

She sniffled, but then smiled. "Derek loves dragons. Derek would have loved Sebastian. I know it."

Cristina was about to reply, when there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Cristina asked, a little panicked. She knew she didn't want Meredith to ask, just incase it was Ethan.

"I'm here to apologize." Mark's recognizable voice said. "What I said was wrong."

Meredith hesitantly stood and unlocked the door.

"He hasn't woken up yet." Mark explained. "And I have a feeling that it's because he's mad at me, and wants to wake up to you. And I know, okay, I know that sounds weird. People don't wake up at certain times on purpose but...I really do think he's waiting for you to be there."

She looked between Cristina and Mark for a few seconds before the former mouthed 'go then', and lifted her hand to gesture for her to leave.

"Dr Sloan."

"Yeah?" He answered, surprised by the way she named him.

"Don't say Derek isn't my family ever again, okay?"

He swallowed. "Yeah. I got that."


"Are you okay, Meredith?"

Neither her head nor eyes moved. She couldn't help the fact that she couldn't keep her eyes off of him.

Ethan's main tactic was using words to hurt her, but, a few times, he had used more than that. It was just one punch or one kick or one slap. Just one. And then he'd stop, and apologize instantly. But she knew that that still counted.

Even when she lost Sebastian, it was just one shove. He didn't apologize then, because, apparently, she'd done it to herself.

But, clearly, Ethan's violence didn't stop at one for everyone.

She'd take an estimate that half of his face was the wrong colour. Both of his upper eyelids were a dark maroon-like colour, and extremely swollen, while his bottom eyelids were slightly less inflated, but still the same colour. His right was worse than his left, but she still wouldn't want a black eye that looked like the latter. As a doctor, she also knew that having a broken nose could contribute to swelling and bruising around the face, so she tried not to worry too much about how severe they were. His right bottom lip was split, discoloured and swollen too, but it didn't look too bad. Other than that, she could see a nasty bruise forming on his right cheek, that had a stitched laceration in the centre of it.

Clearly, he'd moved on from a single punch to full-on assault.

"Meredith." He repeated.

She finally looked round, to see Mark observing her, concern in his eyes. "What?"

"I asked you if you were doing okay."

"Oh." She breathed. She looked back to Derek for a second before looking back. "I'm okay. Maybe."

"Mer not okay." A third voice muttered.

Both of them looked round at the hoarse murmur. Considering the fact that both of his eyes were burgundy and practically swollen shut, Meredith could be forgiven for failing to make out the blue and black of his eyes and the white of his sclera when she glanced to him before.

"But she's a survivor." He continued. "My survivor."

Meredith beamed. "Hi."

Derek did his best to smile back. "Hello."