𝙄𝙑.
WHAT A SHAME SHE WENT MAD / 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘔𝘈𝘋𝘌 𝘏𝘌𝘙 𝘓𝘐𝘒𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛

──────

NEW YORK, 1990s

MY BROTHER'S CLINIC was a small building, but it had a big price tag-- I knew that because Archer would bring it up often, complaining about how painstaking it was for him to find investors that would be interested in helping him start it up.

He'd been ambitious to open a private clinic in Brooklyn but he'd set out with a plan: find some investors that would be interested in helping him open his own space.

He'd spent the last two years getting resources together, finding partners for his practice, finding clients and finding the right amount of funding he'd need to have a low-cost division that focused on wellness and sexual health. It'd translated to a lot of sweat, tears and blood (in the middle of moving a desk across the room, Archer accidentally caught his hand in one of the hinges and spent the following fifty seconds swearing loudly and holding a cloth over his new wound) but finally, he was adding the final touches.

He'd enlisted me to be a helping hand, placing me in charge of doing miscellaneous tasks like checking inventory and overseeing furniture placement. I'd done so with purpose, perhaps I liked to be in charge a little too much- I picked up my clipboard and went through like a whirlwind, completely stocking up the inventory and yelling at the furniture movers with a little bit too much stubbornness. Within days everything was set.

That lead us to the reception.

Of course it did, what would a Montgomery be without a reason to throw a posh soiree?

Addison, of course, was in charge of that part; I couldn't plan anything for the life of me.

    "Hors d'oeuvres?!"

From behind a large table of food, I nodded silently, gesturing towards a tray of snacks. Ever so often, I'd glance over at my sister, watching as her face began to slowly hue towards the tones of her hair.

I'd been sneaking snacks since I'd arrived at five-- and now it was seven pm (a quarter of an hour out from the first on-time guests) and Addison had barely batted an eyelash at the dwindling numbers of appetisers.

    "Where's the brie?"

I waved a wad of cheese up in the air as she continued to do large, dizzying circles- something atone to vultures flying spirals around dead carcasses in the desert. I was doing everything while sneaking the odd pastry, scooting along in a pair of heels that were two seconds away from breaking my back.

    "Camembert?"

Again, another sharp flail of my hand.

    "Chèvre?.. Roquefort?... Taleggio?"

I was beginning to grow disgruntled.

Apparently, Addison's definition of "setting up" involved her wearing out the floorboards while she conducted my performance of the worlds quickest Mexican wave involving an array of cheeses from around the world.

There I was, stood in the centre of the Montgomery Private Clinic, my sweaty fists shaking assorted cheeses with more conviction than a group of preschoolers at a disco waving glow sticks. All the while, Addison was just ticking off random objects on her overzealous list, using a pen that Archer had recently got printed to go along with his new office.

    "...Cheddar-"

    "Addie," I interrupted her sharply. She didn't even look up from her checklist, but I continued anyway. "Is there anything else I can do? Do you need me to any last minute adjustments? And before you ask... the Gouda is on the cheeseboard, as is the Edame, the Stilton and every other cheese from every other deli in Manhattan."

    My sister took a while before replying to me, but after a long breath, she finally looked over: "I'm sorry, I'm all over the place at the moment."

That was an understatement. I hadn't noticed it before, but she seemed to keep checking her watch, before going back to her makeshift clipboard. She looked more nervous than usual. She seemed unhinged. I raised a brow.

"There are some plates in the kitchenette that you can bring out--"

I eyed her oddly, watching as she continued to act in a shifty fashion.

Then slowly, I turned around, soon, my only company coming in the form of my footsteps as they echoed around me. I made my way across the clinic into the back offices, where Archer had set up a kitchenette with an assortment of different appliances.

Frowning to myself, I dug through the cupboards, before drawing out a thick stack of plastic plates alongside some serviettes-- Man, Addison really had come prepared.

    "Hey!"

I jolted, hitting my head on the inside of the cupboard; a loud swear fell through my lips as I teetered dangerously on my heels. Suddenly, the balance of starlets, legends and Montgomery genes left my body, causing me to flail hideously and knock a handful of paper squares into the air.

    "Whoa-"

I'd forgotten that he was here. I turned around, after catching myself my an outstretched hand against the countertop, spying the guilty look on Derek Shepherd's face as he took a few quick paces forwards.

He met my face, his eyes wide as he saw me, surrounded by crumpled serviettes, cradling my forehead as it throbbed angrily. A beat passed between us and then I broke out into slightly stunned laughter. Derek followed.

    "I can't believe you just did that-"

    "I can't believe you're not dressed-"

Derek was still half-dressed. From the waist up, he was in his dress-shirt, but from the waist down he was wearing a pair of scrubs. His hair was tousled and his mouth was opened in a lopsided grin as he gave my head the once over, deciding that I was still in one piece-- he stepped backwards, my gaze drawing down to his tie, something which he appeared to be struggled with.

    "Do you want me to-"

    "Yeah, if you wouldn't mind I was looking for Addie-"

I let out a sigh, humorously rolling my eyes.

Derek moved his arms back and I delicately tied the knot, a life skill learnt from unfortunate private school education. He received a message on his phone as I adjusted it, tilting my head to the side as I smoothed it out with my thumb. Once he was happy with it, he patted me on the shoulder, putting his phone away and bending down to fish a handful of plates off of the floor.

    "I had a really challenging surgery today," Derek mused absently as he helped me clean up my mess. Interested, I looked towards him, watching as he gave me a secret little smile. "A big case with Plastics-- if you want, I can get my secretary to print out some notes and go through it with you when I have spare time- get you prepped for that final."

    My face burst into a cheeky smile. "I think I'd deserve that for my wound."

    He briefly looked over my forehead, rolling his eyes. "Tis but a scratch."

    "Sure, Shakespeare." I managed to clear up all of the plates and turned to him an eyebrow raised pointedly as he laughed loudly. "If I've learnt anything from these lectures it's that you can't just look at a trauma- I could have a concussion or I could have a post-traumatic Lipoma as a result of blunt force trauma. In that case, it would not be a scratch but a really bad mistake on your part..."

He halted for a moment, staring at me with his eyebrows pulled down tight over his bright eyes. I stared back at him, not missing a beat; there was a pause between us and the corners of his lips flickered with a smile.

    "Geek."

    "Mediocre doctor."

The next moments were filled with his own background noise- Derek talking about his day and how he'd managed to get some of his friends to come a little bit earlier to help set up.

He rifled through the cupboards as I piled my arms up with the plates, just in time to hear Addie summoning me in the distance- "Elizabeth!". Even Derek grimaced at the sound on my behalf. He gave me a sympathetic look and I rolled my eyes; if he thought this was hard-work he should have seen her in her teens.

    "Coming!"

I powered over the clinic but faltered in mid-stride as a loud buzzer sounded, signifying that someone was trying to get into the clinic building. In a flurry of movements, I tossed the plates on a random surface and yelled out an "I'll get it!" as Addison made an incoherent exclamation in the distance.

I approached the door expecting Archer, coming back from the store with a few last-minute things. I opened the door and was faced with someone who was vaguely familiar as if I'd seen him at a social event Addison had dragged me to, but we'd never been properly introduced.

His blue eyes burned a trail through me as he took in the sight of me, dressed in an Addison-certified cocktail dress and Addison-certified heels.

    "Hi, I'm here for the Montgomery mixer."

    "Oh- right-" I was caught off-guard. The man was devilishly handsome, to a degree that I could almost be heard mentally asking who had given him the right to look like that. I turned and called across my shoulder, hiding a gussying moment behind a curtain of hair. Derek came bustling out of the backroom, his tie swinging as his face exploded into a grin.

    "Hey man, thanks for coming over a little earlier."

    He flashed a flawless grin. "No problem, it's the least I can do after what you pulled off in that OR today..." Then he looked to me, a wicked sparkle in his eye. "Who is this?"

I swallowed.

    "Beth, I swear I can't find the Gorgonzola..."

Addison came powering into the short foyer before pausing, catching sight of the newcomer.

I didn't miss the brief grimace that flickered across her face; one that the two others missed, but I caught because I was extremely sensitive to every emotion my older sister experienced. Call it intuition but I could tell she didn't like this guy.

Suddenly, in an explosion of Montgomery charm, Addison sported a hefty smile.

"Mark, thanks so much for coming early."

Her tone was polite, the classic socialite tone that made me think that this exchange was far more business than pleasure. She swept towards him in her dress and kissed both his cheeks before turning towards me, a slightly stressed storm beginning to pour out of her every crack and crevice. I let out a sigh.

    "Addie- I told you- It's on the sideboard with the rest of the cheeses-" Then I turned to the newcomer and held out a hand for him to shake. "Hi, it's nice to meet you, I'm Beth-"

    "Addison, you never told me that your sister was so beautiful." He spoke again, with a smooth tone that I'm sure could sell ice to an Eskimo if he desired. "It's nice to finally meet you, I'm Mark Sloan--"

I looked over at him with a slightly pressed smile. His eyes trailed over towards Addison who was becoming more and exasperated by the second. But then he leant down and pressed his lips against my hand, instead of the professional, socialite handshake I'd usually go for.

Goosebumps travelled across my skin.

   "Alright--"  My sister interrupted him swiftly. I caught the look on Addisons face. She didn't look very impressed. "You can join Derek on entree duty."

His reputation preceded him.

Mark Sloan, I'd heard that name before. It was one of those names that stuck around in the crowds after he'd been there, and believe me, he seemed to be everywhere.

An upper-class plastic surgeon who had really charmed his way into the wallets and hearts of Addison's social circle. No wonder Addison's grimaces, this man had acquired quite a roster of clients and romantic pursuits.

    "Personally, I'm more into just setting the atmosphere," He joked, but we could all tell that he didn't really want to do any hard labour at all. Derek smiled along with him but the look Addison shot her boyfriend was stained with concealed frustration. I pursed my lips, this evening had suddenly gone cold and it hadn't even started.

    "Well, go set the atmosphere somewhere else, please." Addison shooed him away, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me away. I glanced over my shoulder back at the duo as Derek let out a slightly uncomfortable laugh.

When I looked back, Mark Sloan's eyes were trailing on me, piercing mine until I disappeared around the corner.

***

SEATTLE, 2009

─── Eight hours was a long time.

What was longer was twenty-four hours, thirty hours-- I used to do long shifts like those when I was chasing a surgical fellowship when the OR was in reaching distance and I had my career plan all figured out. My shifts back then used to be painstaking, a circus act of juggling biological rhythms and career moves, the odd page and the odd few moments of sleep.

I used to watch the time tick by and feel involved, feel overwhelmed by the work I was doing, feel impassioned.

Yet now, eight hours felt like a lifetime.

Archer Montgomery's surgery, headed by Doctor Derek Shepherd (with assistance by Doctor Meredith Grey), lasted a long time.

For eight hours, I sat there outside in the civilian waiting room, watching time tick by on a large pale-faced clock above a nurses' station.

For eight long, painful hours, I scuffed the bottom of my foot against the floor and drowned out negative thoughts with classical music.

And how did I feel? I felt hopeful, but I wasn't sure whether that was due to the remnants of the wine I'd briefly ingested on the flight (my old alcoholism liked to do wonders for my mentality in moments like these) or whether I actually had a reason for hope.

The words I'd told Naomi swam through my head in dizzying circles, inflicting false hope and a stoic calm that stopped me from sleeping even a second while Archer was on that OR table.

Just before Derek finally resurfaced, I was nursing a cup of cold coffee and the seat beside me was still warm from an unlikely companion. One of the surgeons from before, George, had found me (on Derek's request, most likely) and had brought a coffee to my side alongside a few magazines. He'd sat with me silently, in consolidation but had also briefly explained that he'd gone through something very similar to what I was going through only last year. He told me that he knew how hard it was to face something so terrifying. I'd thanked him for the support but hadn't drunk any of the caffeine.

I'd wanted to sleep so badly, but my nerves had kept me wide awake.

Derek had turned up in a dramatic way that, if I hadn't been petrified at the sight of him, I would have found funny and rolled my eyes at. He parted the double doors- the same doors I'd stared at for hours on end- and dragged the scrub cap off of his curls in a perfect slow motion. Again, I wasn't sure whether it was real life or the sleep deprivation that put that into motion.

Either way, Derek Shepherd walked straight towards me and I braced myself for it-- I braced myself for the classic textbook bad news, in which he'd lead me away somewhere private and console me tightly.

My hope was out of the window, my optimism shattered-- all I was holding onto was the warp of his stoic face as he finally came to a stop before me.

Here he was.

Here was smiling at me. Broadly. Proudly.

    "You did it."

It wasn't a question, but rather a statement. I got to my feet, my heart suspended in my chest. The tears I'd been suppressing began to leak out of the corners of my eyes; the man I'd considered to be my brother for a while now stared down at me, a watery sheen to his own baby blues.

"You fucking did it- of course, you fucking did-"

    "I did it, Beth." His voice was choked; I grinned at him so violently that my cheeks throbbed after only a few moments. I let out a distorted sob and threw my arms around his neck, burying my face into his neck. "I wanted to tell you personally-- Archer- he's going to be okay-"

I was rarely speechless, I liked to think that I inherited my parent's ability to never shut the fuck up. But in this moment, I was overwhelmed by lots of different thoughts.

    "Archie's doing fine- his stats are clear... the heart is stable..." Derek continued to speak when I couldn't, holding me tightly against his chest as I cried blissfully happy tears. "He's worm-free-- I got them, I got all eight of them, Beth-"

    "You slick bastard you-" I drew back, finding my voice as I sloppily wiped away my stray tears with the back of my hand. "I'm so glad you were stupid enough to marry Addison, what the fuck-"

He let out a watery chuckle.

Derek's hands worked their way into my shoulder and massaged a knotted muscle that slowly relaxed as the stress evaporated. All of the stress about my older brother's ill health flew off my shoulders so suddenly that it almost took the breath out of me.

One of the hands that had been slung around Derek, recoiled to cup my shaking lips as I shut down emotionally, feeling my body wither with both physical and emotional exhaustion. By the time I had caught my breath back, I was sure that Derek was the only thing that was keeping me upright; his arms were wrapped around my torso as I sniffled against his scrubs.

    "Now, you need to get some rest-"

    "I'm fine," I said indignantly, despite all of the physical evidence that I wasn't fine at all. "I want to see Archer, I want to stay with him..."

    Derek shot me a look. "I understand that Beth, but Archer is going to be in recovery for a while. I had some of the technicians take him to the ICU for observation. He won't be awake for a long while yet, his body is exhausted from everything he's gone through-- and so are you."

    "Derek, really I'm fine-"

    "Elizabeth." I scowled at the use of my full name. "I can tell that you've barely slept- do you have a hotel room or anywhere that you could go?"

    I paused. "I uh, I don't have anything planned, really- no."

That was the truth. I hadn't prepared anything for Seattle, seeing as I hadn't even known I'd be going to Seattle until an hour before my flight.

Derek frowned for a moment before he looked over his shoulder, off towards a woman who I hadn't even realised was stood a few steps behind him. She was leaning against the wall, still dressed in her scrubs, with her arms folded over her chest. She met my eye and smiled in a strained, awkward manner.

    "Hi, you must be Beth, I'm Meredith."

She took her own initiative to introduce herself and I looked over towards Derek briefly, catching his eye. He inclined his head to the floor and smile to himself, giving me a short, smitten glance. My emotional instability seemed to realign itself as I shook her hand, a small smile dawning across my face.

    "Oh hi, I've heard so much about you..."

I'd been able to tell who she was just from the look in Derek's eye, and boy, he always picked the pretty ones. She breezed past him and approached me with a cautious warmth that did not go amiss.

Her eyes met mine, sparkling wildly like clear waters under direct sunlight. For a second, I could read into her body language completely; my sister had not left a good impression of my family name with this one. So, it was then and there that I decided to set out and change that perception.

    "I could say the same." She answered warmly.

    "I just want to start off by saying that I'm not as arrogant as my brother and I'm not as obnoxious as my sister..." Meredith laughed, the sound spilling across the otherwise silent room. I paused, running my fingers through my hair and cracking a smile. "Or at least, I hope-"

    "We can all hope," My ex-brother-in-law wisecracked with a faux grimace. "But you never change." I elbowed him in the gut and he swatted me away like an annoying smile, his comedy peeling away to the matter at hand. "But really- where are you planning on staying, do you have enough money? I'm happy to put you up somewhere for the night-"

    "I was planning on staying in the hospital, I guess." I shrugged. That, in itself, was a lie. I hadn't planned anything because I was truly disastrous at all matters of organisation and preparation. I hadn't even booked my own flight-- Charlie had done that for me. "But- I don't know- I have a bit of cash, I'm sure I can find a hotel room or something- I'll sort something out."

    "It's fine, I'm happy to help out." Derek insisted.

    "No- really it's fine. It's not like I'm going to be here for too long anyway-"

    Derek let out a breath. "If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

And the topic was closed, just like that.

I could tell that Derek had been put off by my mention that I wasn't planning on hanging around for long, but I wasn't exactly sure what he expected from me. Sure, I'd suppressed my urge to flee, but that was for Archer's own good.

I didn't doubt that Addison would have him off to Los Angeles as soon as he was fit for transport, that just the more reasonable thing to do, have Archer somewhere where Addison was able to watch over him and make sure he healed properly. I'd already made the mental decision to stay for that long-- and my lingering medical knowledge told me that Archer would be in post-op for at a fortnight until he'd be cleared for transportation.

But Derek was right, I couldn't expect to sleep on some cot bed in the middle of Archer's hospital room. That was just unreasonable. I let out a sigh as Meredith reminded Derek of some details for Archer's case file and handed it over to him.

Looks like I'm going to have to find a way to get some money together.

    "I'd love to have you over for wine so you can tell me some embarrassing stories about Derek." Meredith snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked over at her quizzically, my forehead creasing. "I know you don't know any of the childhood stuff, but I haven't had the chance to talk to any of his sisters and- well, you're as good as one of them, he tells me. Surely, you have some interesting stories from New York?"

    I let out a laugh. "I'd love to-"

    "Beth doesn't drink."

Derek's interjection caused me to shift uncomfortably.

Maybe it was his tone or the way that he looked up from Archer's file to stare right into my soul as he spoke, but suddenly having a hotel room all to myself was a very attractive idea. Meredith must have sensed the sudden tension as she pursed her lips, distancing herself from the way I glanced away from Derek's stare and gave her an earnest smile.

    "I'd love to," I repeated and turned around, picking up my jacket from the back of my chair. I'd almost made the armchair into a sort of nest, with my waterproof housing me in my hunched state. I pried it out of its crumpled state and pushed my cold coffee into the trash can.

    "Addison has actually invited us all out to the bar across the street," Derek said slowly, watching the way I faltered in my movements when he brought up the invitation. "No drinking but... She asked me to ask you to think about it."

    "I-"

    "Think about it."

It was Derek's turn to repeat now and I looked over at him, my lips falling into a thin line. Sure, I'd think about it, alright. It was probably going to be the only thing I thought about for a while.

I was about to answer him, but Derek turned to Meredith, "I'm going to go and check up on another post-op, can you get this to the nurse?"

His girlfriend nodded and I watched as he gave her a thanking nod, before looking over towards me. He gave me a quick once over, not quite hiding the disdain in his eyes and squeezed my forearm.

    "Go, get some sleep. Clean up and maybe come later, I know you don't want to-- but maybe it's time."

I didn't give him a vocal answer just nodded gravely, my eyes dropping to the floor. He gave me one last pat on the arm before he was off down the corridor, saving lives once again in the same Derek Shepherd fashion that I'd known in New York.

Meredith and I stood silently, side by side, watching as he shortly disappeared down the corridor and out of sight. What followed was a short silence, filled with me thinking about Addison's extended invitation and thinking over Derek's words.

    Maybe it's time.

His message was clear: Addison wouldn't be the only one I'd have to face if I turned up at that bar tonight.

For the second time in eight hours, I felt panic grip my heart. I'd judged eight hours as being too long, yet here I was, in the middle of Seattle Grace Hospital, thinking that the four years that it had been since I'd last seen Mark Sloan's face, hadn't been long enough.

***

─── There was something funny about the way that my stomach settled when I walked over the threshold of that bar.

Maybe it was the scent of alcohol, a painfully familiar smell that washed over me and settled my nerves, or the feeling that I was in control, that I was the one making my own decisions in this situation-- but everything felt calm and still.

My breathing was steady, my lips pursed and I felt grounded, more so now that I had been in a long time. My skin bristled at the sensation of cold fading into warmth, my eyes curtly adjusted to the Seattle nighttime to the heat and bustle of a metropolitan bar.

It was all so familiar to me, that with a blink I felt as though I was on a club crawl with Amelia Shepherd way back in Manhattan.

But I entered alone after ten minutes of a pep-talk on the sidewalk outside and a preceding tissue cleanse in the ladies' restroom a few minutes from the OR floor.

I'd even found myself a hotel, but I hadn't booked it myself-- no, just as like before I'd gotten a text message from the man who seemed to think of everything:

Warwick Hotel, reservation under Perkins.

I hadn't checked in yet, hadn't even fathomed anything but the stunning text back and the zombie-like walk from the hospital across the sidewalk and outside a bar, Joe's.

I gripped my phone tightly and squeezed my eyes closed; it'd taken me far more strength than I would have liked to admit to, just to open the door and walk inside.

But I did it-- and people noticed.

    "There she is!"

Naomi's voice was what I heard first; my brother's new girlfriend jumped to her feet and embraced me tightly in her arms, boasting nothing but the bright warmth that I'd grown to expect from her.

I grinned into her arms, being reminded of the days when this would be a weekly thing, meeting up in a bar in Manhattan when they weren't in surgery and I wasn't chasing a surgical education.

Next up was Sam, he rose up from his chair and engulfed me in yet another hug; he held onto me as if he knew that my muscles were screaming at me to turn and run, to flee and never look back. As he stepped backwards, he muttered words of how proud he was of me and how this would be a healing experience... I tuned out after a few seconds and just nodded as if I was fully listening, giving him a strained smile.

Derek waved from the bar, having already passed me on the sidewalk. He hadn't spoken to me since informing me of Archer's pending recovery (his eyes had met mine in the glow of the streetlights and he'd given me a tight, encouraging smile until all that was left of him was the tail of his coat disappearing into the bar), and I just gave him a meek wave back.

However, he wasn't alone.

No, he had two people seated either side of him.

One, of whom, had latched their eyes onto me from the moment I'd stepped into this bar.

Of course, I'd always been able to feel him; I had this unfortunate ability to be able to pick him with ease in a crowd. His gaze had always felt heavier than others, like two ever-present weights that left a scalding, hot mark, almost like a brand.

I dragged in a breath and found myself avoiding him, just as I had for the last four years, and instead made eye contact with the unlikeliest smile in the room.

My sister appeared bashful, sheepish.

She, like Derek, greeted me from afar, something that I responded to with a sharp nod. Addison's smile did not dwindle, instead grew sharper at the sides and she turned to say something in an undertone to her ex-husband. Derek did not answer whatever she said to him. Instead, he gazed over at his second companion, waiting to see if anything would happen.

To everyone's surprise (or maybe lack of surprise, seeing my history), I walked straight towards the bar, right beside Derek and Addison and... the other one.

I sat down a few stools down and bristled as his eyes picked out my every movement, almost like I would in a consult back in Indonesia. I dragged in a tight breath through my nose, but smiled warmly at the bartender as he asked for my order-- "One lemonade, please."-- and the night went on like that.

The conversation was light; my evening was filled with me tense with discomfort, avoiding a pair of eyes that seemed to stick to my every tremor.

Naomi spoke enthusiastically of LA, Sam spoke of his books, Derek spoke of some cases and even I shared a few details on what I was up to. I mentioned my charity work, brushing over the topic of Charlie and what I'd done to reach this point, and briefly discussed a few psychiatry journals with Sam, who was finally voicing his delight on how there was someone else in the group that was into psychology.

There were a few moments through the night that I felt my boundaries slipping, between a joke that Derek would crack or a story that Naomi would get too buried in-- when my cheeks throbbed with a laugh or I got too distracted by the warmth in my chest, I would be reminded by the doting press of his or her gaze on the side of my face, just when I wasn't looking.

I wondered whether he'd come to speak to me; although really, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist, so it really was a question of when.

He chose a moment when conversation dulled and Naomi had gone to the restroom for a short break, leaving the chair beside me empty. He rolled in like a storm that I'd been preparing for years, clouds and wind of cologne that I was sure I'd be able to recognize anywhere.

He had a scotch in one hand- god, he always loved his scotch- and was running the other through his hair when he let a brief silence settle between us.

He looked at me for a while, studying my micro-expressions; but I was impassive, staring over at the other side of the bar, taking the regular, mechanically programmed, sip of my soft drink. It must've been around the five-minute mark (in which I reasoned that Naomi was probably too tipsy to fathom going to the toilet herself) that he grew fed up with his own games.

    "You look good."

The first thing that hit me was that his voice was the same; I wasn't exactly sure what I'd expected. But it just... it just seemed the same. It was smooth, effortlessly smooth and suave and it caused the same goosebumps to bunch across my skin as it did the first time I'd met him. I took a mouthful of my drink and neglected to respond.

    "I mean it." He tried again. Again, the familiarity caused shivers to glace over my skin. In a world where things for me had changed so much-- the fact that he was unchanged caused me more grief than I would have liked to admit. "You look really good."

I wasn't sure what he was trying to go for, but it was classic Mark Sloan, that was for sure.

The only thing that was different about this exchange was that there was a noticeable lapse in his words, a hesitation- damn right, you're going to fucking hesitate. The spark of his confidence was lacking and I couldn't help but use that to my advantage.

    "It's good to see that you're back to your old self."

My eye twitched at that one, but I was holding up very well, longer than I thought I would have.

    "I mean it, Beth." My name sounded the same on his lips and he repeated those words like they meant a damn thing to me. "It's really good to see you."

I just couldn't help myself this time.

I drew in a tight breath, in the same way, a coil would tighten just before it was about to launch, and with every ounce of my new mind that I'd built piece-by-piece over four years, I turned and looked Mark Sloan straight in the eye.

I refused to be blinded and instead gave him a dark, benevolent smile- one which I would have been lying if I said I hadn't practised in the mirror in preparation for this exact moment.

    "Really?" The words dripped from my lips as Mark seemed to relive the night everything had gone to shit four years ago in a matter of seconds. "That smooth crap isn't going to work on me anymore."