𝙓𝘾.
THE PEOPLE VS. ELIZABETH MONTGOMERY

──────

HOLY CRAP.

That was the only phrase that had dominated Amelia Shepherd's thoughts for the past eighteen hours. 

Two words that shattered her train of thought like a ringing in her ears: Holy. Crap.

She would've loved to say that she'd predicted this happening. 

She would've loved to say that walking into Beth's apartment and finding that hell had descended into midtown Seattle was something that Amy had seen coming. 

She would've loved to just scream I told you so and let the world have it–– but she hadn't and she couldn't.

What the fuck had happened?

It was sudden, all of this, Amy could tell from the way that she'd watched Beth splinter completely in front of her. Even for her, it'd been so much to process.

How the hell was she supposed to process it?

There was so much that'd just been dumped on top of her. 

She'd sat there in sub-torrential temperatures, cold to the goddamn bone as rain ruined her sneakers and cigarette smoke made all of her clothes smell like shit, and listened to it all. 

Beth had spoken so matter-of-factly, despite how her eyes were red and her nose was snuffed (neither of which, Amy believed, were due to drugs). She'd told Amy everything, every little detail, all the way down to the sting in Beth's chest as she realised that she'd been living in some hyperrealist fantasy world for the last four years.

(Yeah, Beth had said dryly as she recounted how Derek now had her head on the block for drug charges that were not even hers, I could do with that getaway car around about now.)

It was, additionally, the exact phrase that struck her when she saw Dominic Fox for the first time.

Amy spent the last fifteen minutes sat in a meeting room at Seattle Grace Mercy West, counting the seconds until that door opened, revealing the lawyer like a patron saint of the despicable.

 He'd appeared like a holy figure, suit neatly pressed despite the hour, smile easy-going despite the day, and barely a crinkle against him despite how miserable this year was proving to be. 

She knew who he was before he'd even introduced himself–– stiff collar, those glittering eyes, the overwhelming aura of a man who knew exactly how powerful he was?

Yeah, holy crap.

Amy wondered how the hell Beth seemed to find these people. She'd known Beth for more years than she could count and she knew how easily Beth seemed to attract, well, attractive people.

 Was it really as easy as it looked for her? Amy was beginning to have some serious questions. Did Beth have some sort of magnetism to her? Or did she actively search these people out? Did she really go to extra lengths to find a lawyer that looked... well, like that?

Amy had had to squint at him on his entrance, just in case she was seeing things–– no, Dominic really looked that good in a suit. 

He was, for all intents and purposes, flawless down to every single detail. 

His cuffs were perfectly folded, his greeting smile was slick and, despite knowing that he hadn't slept at all last night (just like Amy), he appeared completely unbothered by how fucked the world was today.

Amy, on the other hand, felt like shit and she had a sneaky suspicion that she looked it too.

She hadn't exactly had time over the last eighteen hours to do anything but look and feel like shit. All of her energy had been invested into what she guessed was what she'd been brought to Seattle to do: keeping Beth sane and, importantly, very sober. 

She hadn't unpacked her suitcase at all, the tiny mound of luggage currently sat in the centre of Beth's apartment like a art piece with a bittersweet intention, leaving her to blindly grab at Beth's closet as she'd left this morning–– 

Beth was taller so Amy felt horrendously awkward in pants that were a little too long and a shirt that she'd had to roll slightly at the sleeves. But Amy guessed that it really fit the whole energy of today: feeling as if she was a kid sitting at the adult's table, trying to pretend that she knew exactly how to deal with nuclear fallout.

Dominic cleared his throat.

Yeah. Amy cleared hers too. She didn't know where to start.

He didn't appear caught off-guard by the sight of her sitting in the middle of an empty table, but Amy had been told to expect that. Beth had tried her best to describe the man who, all too often, felt more like an urban myth than a real person. 

Of course, Amy had heard his name, she'd heard about cases he'd taken and clients he'd fought for–– but god, seeing him in person was a lot different to scrolling down his Wikipedia page.

She could still taste Beth's cigarette smoke at the back of her mouth. It was as if she was still carrying the weight of it with her. 

As Dominic flashed his carefree, perfect smile, Amy was reminded of the storm that had hit Seattle.

And boy, hadn't it flooded these streets.

It was a very nice change of pace, really, to be the one person who wasn't in very deep shit. She'd grown accustomed, in Beth's absence and sobriety, to being the problematic one. 

Amy didn't have time to divulge what exactly had happened when Beth had gotten on that plane to Canada, but it hadn't been pretty. She hadn't had her own new start, her refresh, she'd just had work with what she already had and a brother who still refused to take her calls.

Amy had never had that chance, never that opportunity. She'd suffered under the burning lights of a stage that was there solely to ridicule her, to show off her every crack and imperfection–– But now, Beth was the one causing controversy.

In all honesty, it was a nice fucking break.

"Where's Beth?"

It was the first thing that he said. 

Beth had told her that Dominic was always prepared. It explained his slight hesitation as he looked around the room and realised that the one woman he'd expected to be behind this door was completely absent. 

Amy liked to think finding her sat here was a very nice surprise.

"She said she'd be an extra ten minutes, she has something to do first," was Amy's bright response. Then she extended her hand, leaning across the meeting room with a blistering smile. "But I'm Amelia, Amelia Shepherd."

She didn't know where this energy came from but she was sure it'd started in the hurried conversation they'd had before they'd left the apartment. 

Amy had left Beth ripping through boxes, telling the Shepherd sibling to just go along because the show couldn't exactly go on without her. That'd been exactly what Beth's attitude towards the day; they'd start when she, and only she, turned up. 

She was the most important person in this hospital today. Everyone was dependent on her, on her timings, on exactly what she had to say.

("What are they going to do? Beth had asked with a slight crack in her voice as she defeated the day with humour before it had even begun, "Prosecute the fuckin' potted plant in Derek's office?")

That was her outlook on the morning meeting with her attorney too.

They'd scheduled it yesterday but Beth did not seem to have any urgency when it came to arriving on time. It was their last point of contact before a very hastily thrown-together board meeting later in the morning, one which would solidify which penalties Beth would face for her indiscretions. As Beth had said, just nine hours ago, this meeting was very important, it was their last chance to discuss strategy before they walked into that room, sat in an official hearing for five hours, and watched Beth's whole career slowly go down the drain.

Maybe that's why Dominic's facial expression looked slightly strained as he moved his briefcase across the table.

Admittedly, Amy wasn't sure what she'd expected. 

From what she'd heard about Beth's time in Seattle, she knew that the brunette had made her fair share of friends–– so maybe that was exactly what she'd expected. She'd arrived to this room ten minutes early and had spent more time congratulating herself for actually turning up to something early than actually pondering over why all these chairs were bare. 

They must've asked around, right? They must've asked for character witnesses and references and all of the in-between?

 At first, Amy hadn't realised how quiet this room was, but then ten minutes had passed and Dominic had entered perfectly on time and Amy had realised what had happened.

No one else was coming.

Outside of Dominic's smile, the congregation of the Beth 'Save-Her-Ass' Brigade wasn't as cinematic as anyone would've thought. 

There was no fanfare, there was no finesse, just the two of them in a room full of empty chairs. Only two were occupied, one by Amy and the other by her tote bag (she'd purchased it from Coney island a few years back, the words 'the people's playground' embroidered into the fabric.) 

The other chairs just left a bitter taste in the back of their mouths–– maybe it was the feeling of a half-empty room or just the realisation that, after everything, they were the only allies Beth had. 

With Andrew and Charlie fleeing Seattle like the fall of Saigon, Dominic and Amy were the only people left in it's ruins, the only people who understood exactly what was happening.

And then there were two...

A hot as shit Harper Avery lawyer and a recovered addict walk into a bar.

Amy was sure that was the joke. It had to be a joke, right? This all felt like a pretty sick joke to her.

This was all they had to work with. Two people who were on two very different ends of the 'helping out' spectrum. While Dom could practically part the red sea with a single glance, Amy well...she'd been told she had a pretty solid right hook.

She just knew she had to help.

"So you and Beth slept together, huh?"

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly a conventional way to open such a serious conversation. 

She'd skipped over small talk and just cut to the important part. 

Despite how sudden it was, Dominic seemed completely unfazed, eyes flickering over to her as his fingers lingered on the clasps of his briefcase. 

Her hands were clasped in front of her, her smile nothing short of 'shit-eating. 

The lawyer faltered. His head cocked to the side.

"She told you?"

Amy's eyes sparkled.

"No," She replied. Dom cocked an eyebrow. Her eyes fleetingly ran up and down him, over his every folded edge. "I just know her type."

Of course, Beth had told her, they told each other everything. 

It'd been one of the things Beth had divulged on her fifth cigarette of the night and half a margarita pizza. (My fiancé's an addict and I slept with the one man who can save my ass.) 

Playing dumb was all just strategy. It was a habit, Amy guessed, from growing up being the youngest of too many siblings to name off the top of her head. 

She took in Dom's flashy exterior and digested it into the wolfish grin that flickered across her face as he paused for a very noticeable beat–– she'd caught him off-guard and Amy was going to make a considerable effort to make sure that it wasn't the last time. She had to level the playing field; that big name, those shiny shoes, that very present ego of his. Now they were equal and Dom seemed all too aware of it.

Yeah, Amy thought to herself as he stayed standing, adjusting the cuffs of his very expensive suit, You've signed up for a little bit more than just a conversation.

It was needless to say that hearing Beth had been blindsided by the people she trusted most had not settled well with Amy at all. Beth had told Amy all about it with a very thick, matter-of-fact voice, barely even faltering as she disclosed all the details about yesterday's revelations. (Holy crap, had been Amy's response, accepting the cigarette as Beth toppled in her direction, Holy crap!). There'd been something so tragic about listening to Beth talk about how everyone she'd trusted since New York had turned out to all be lying on Charlie's behalf; Dominic, Calum, Rose and everyone else. 

All the people that claimed to care about her had turned out to just be accomplices in a crime––

But even so, holy crap, this man was pretty.

"You're pretty."

Okay, maybe she was flirting too. 

Just a bit. 

Just a little bit. Amy couldn't help it. 

The two words came tumbling out of her mouth with frankness–– it was less of a compliment and more of a fact. It was said with the matter-of-factness of a kid reciting statistics to their teacher: oxygen made up 78% of air and Dominic Fox was hot.

It was hard to really hate someone who was pretty.

Maybe that's why she'd slept with Mark so many times.

His lip twitched again.

"Thank you."

That was it. Two words in exchange for her own. Amy didn't have the energy to be surprised.

Egotistical ass. He really was Beth's type.

She watched him move and very silently compared him to Mark. 

He had the same way about him, the same very silent invitation to his every movement and glance. It was as if he was quietly challenging her to do something with every breath, whether it was slapping him across the face or grabbing his sorry handsome face and kissing him. She was sure the prosecution must've loved him.

"Is that her type?" His eyebrows raised, "Pretty boys?"

Dominic seemed to ask that question out of curiosity. Head tilted to the side as if he was just so interested to see what category he fit into. 

Maybe he was fishing for compliments or maybe he was just genuinely curious? 

Amy expected the latter; he seemed like the type who needed that ego maintenance. His shoes screamed ego and his smile proclaimed arrogance.

"I don't know," She shrugged, looking at her cuticles as if she wasn't particularly interested in whatever category Beth's sexual preferences had created in the world. She heard Dominic's distant, small chuckle, alongside the sharp snap of his briefcase clasps. "I'm sure you can look at Mark and Charlie and figure it out from there."

(If the message wasn't clear, she was calling Dominic a douchebag.)

He barely even blinked.

"Yeah," Dominic eased out, seeming to just be amused with everything, "I'll do that."

Oh, he was good.

Amy guessed that it wasn't very great that she currently wanted to do very violent things to the man standing opposite her. 

A homicide charge wasn't very pretty when the only lawyer Beth thought was worth their time, was the body on the gurney. 

It wasn't often that Amy felt protective of someone in her life, but there was something about seeing Beth the night before, crumpled up against the window sill like a flower that's stem had been snapped in two... it'd felt too much like New York. 

She'd even passed Mark Sloan on her exit too, a deep sense of deja vu passing between them as they both realised that they'd definitely been here before. Time repeated in mysterious ways and Amy was determined to take initiative to actually act on things this time.

(Mark, meanwhile, had exited the apartment looking flushed; the centre of his shirt damp and pox-marked with mascara, just around his heart.)

"So, what's your deal?"

Amy felt like she was interrogating him. Maybe she was? She wanted to know what exactly went on in the mind of a man who had betrayed her friend so easily. 

All she knew was that she felt like one of those psychiatrists from an old movie, one with a serial killer on the other side of the table and psychoanalysis between them. 

Amy had once read a book on FBI psychological warfare in a Barnes and Nobles and she was fairly sure that she was currently hitting him with everything they'd had. 

This was her chance; it was her chance to pick apart the motivations of a man who, according to his Wikipedia page, was so morally grey.

"My deal?"

His eyebrow raised.

"Your deal," Amy repeated back to him. 

She leant back in her chair, feeling the wheels shuddering very slightly. His expression didn't waver. 

  "C'mon," She scoffed lightly, "You're an Harper Avery lawyer stuck in a fairly average hospital on the East Coast... a Harvard graduate... California native––"

"You sure you couldn't figure my deal out from Google search?"

Dominic fixed her with the same eye that he probably used to cross-examine. Admittedly, Amy wasn't completely sure what lawyers did for a living, but she knew that whatever it was they probably got paid a lot and did a lot of speaking.

Amy barely blanched.

"I'm just saying, you probably get good pay back in Los Angeles," Frankly, she didn't believe for one second that Dominic was here out of necessity. He didn't need this money. "You're probably a very busy man... Have a whole lot better things to do than clean up in Seattle, right? It just occurred to me... Oh, after the Google search, for the record–– that a lawyer like you is a little too big for a hearing like this, don't you think?"

It wasn't like she was wrong. 

She knew that he was a big name to have on a tiny case like this. 

Hell, Amy had had so many hearings like this of her own. 

She was not a stranger to how this went: the hearing would be full of accusatory glances, an ambience that wasn't friendly by any means, and a defence lawyer that very clearly did not want to be there. When she'd hired a lawyer, she'd just been left to wonder whether this woman had known that she'd been trying to save a sinking ship. But then the trial had started and things had panned out and Amelia had realised that defence maybe wasn't even the right word for it–– Dominic was here as a damage control expert.

He was the man cleaning up after the building had detonated. He'd been handled his hard hat and his shovel and he'd been left to move debris into neat little piles. Neat little piles that came with charges that were, hopefully, not criminal.

However, Amy could tell just from the flick of Dominic's sleeve as he checked his Rolex, that he was far too pretty for manual labour.

"She's my client." His answer was poignant. It was the sort of answer that couldn't get construed. Amy hummed thoughtfully in response. "I've represented her for years. This hearing isn't any different."

"So you represent all of the clients of your firm personally?" Was Amy's next question, "All your clients get one of the big cheeses? Drop everything? Get the first plane out? Just for a staff disciplinary meeting?"

She was proud to say that that, somewhat, caught him off-guard. 

He just looked at her, his dark eyes swirling with thought as Amy clasped her hands under her chin and waited for his response. 

(Was this a cross-examination? Amy wasn't sure what that term meant, but she felt like this was. She felt like a lawyer, dressing down Dominic as he sat on the stand. (Oh, and how pleasing the view would be underneath everything, she was sure.) Elle Woods would've been proud.)

Dominic chuckled, his head dropped downwards to arrange papers on the table.

"'Cuz that's good service," Amy continued when he didn't respond immediately. 

From here, she could see his tongue whirring his words around thoughtfully, each vowel tumbling about like clothing in a drier. 

  A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, "Where do I sign up? Speed dial a number and here you have it... Harper Avery's golden boy stood right here at 9 am on a Monday morning in the Emerald City––"

"Beth Montgomery has been a client at the firm for years," Dominic interjected. She held his gaze. He held hers. "In fact, when Calum and I opened the firm, she was one of the first. Beth has been there for us since day one. She put down money for our start-up, helped us get contacts and even helped Calum pick out office space in a realtors list. Even when all that shit went down with the engagement, Beth still helped us. We like to repay that loyalty."

"So," Amy said, "You're saying... you're saying that you have a loyalty to her? To Beth?"

Loyal. God wasn't that a fucking word.

She felt like slamming her palm down onto the table and proclaiming I OBJECT! as if she wasn't just a neurosurgeon who'd watched Legally Blonde a few too many times. 

YOUR HONOUR, THE DEFENDANT IS NOT LOYAL. 

Amy had to swallow the chuckle that threatened to make a very timely appearance. 

HE'S LYING. OR JUST REALLY FUCKING DUMB. 

Her immediate response to the word loyalty was amusement–– how could this man, after everything that had been revealed yesterday, tote the word loyalty as the sole reason that he was standing there? 

SEE SECTION 1) BLATANT BETRAYAL. 

Was he really going to say loyalty as if he hadn't been one of the people responsible for the absolute shit show that had happened yesterday? 

SECTION 2) CLEARLY ONLY IN IT FOR PERSONAL REASONS, PROBABLY MONEY. 

Was he going to act as if she'd just imagined everything that had happened last night? 

AND SECTION 3) MALPRACTICE.

"I want her to have the best representation she can have," Again, his response felt diplomatic. It was clean-cut, smooth, he barely batted an eyelash. It bothered her more than she would've liked to admit. He held his arms out and gestured to himself. (The gesture reminded Amy so deeply of Mark.) "And I'm the best."

Amy folded her arms over her chest. 

She felt almost like a kid, sulking at the dinner table because they were being force-fed vegetables; although, instead of her having to face her dead dad, it was a medical law lawyer, and instead of vegetables it was complete and utter bullshit.

"No, I don't think you're the best."

Dominic's eyebrows just raised.

(She might as well have stuck out her tongue, too.)

"You don't?"

She didn't. It wasn't a lie. 

Dominic just appeared amused, this sparkle in his eye that seemed incapable of fading away. Amy could imagine it really–– she didn't know much about medical law or courts but she could imagine him cross-examining a very difficult defendant or witness. He was disarming in the cool and collected way that suggested a hidden fire. 

His voice was even, his manner completely withheld–– Amy stared at him and she saw a man who was dressed for business. She couldn't imagine Beth ever expecting loyalty out of a man like that.

Amy could detect it, just the tiny detail of slight repugnance that crawled out of him at her challenge. 

He was surprised, just vaguely. 

His ego hung between them, blowing on the wind like the 'FOR RENT' sign of a foreclosed house. Good, Amy thought to herself. She really wanted to get under this man's skin. Maybe then, and only then, he'd actually pay attention to what she's about to say:

"I think you think you're the best," Amy chewed on her tongue, nodding slowly to herself as she scoured him, once again, from head to toe. "Maybe you're the best looking... I mean look at you, you look like a cast member of Suits. You've got those pretty eyes and a pretty smile... But the best?" Her nod turned, so gradually, into a solemn shake. "I can't see it."

He looked more intrigued than he did insulted.

"The Google search didn't convince you?"

She shrugged.

"It was more finding out that you're letting Beth take the fall for things your other client did," Amy's response caused him to pause. "But don't worry about Google, it actually really did wonders singing your praise. You have a really nice picture on your Wikipedia page by the way. Looks like a professional headshot. Did you ever consider modelling?"

She wished she could've kept the silence and captured it into a bottle. 

It was fleeting but curt; it seemed expertly placed, like the interval between two acts of a show. The small beat between the beginning of this conversation and its end was, by all means, delicious. 

It was a single heartbeat in the stage act that had been the Mystic Dom Fox, master of illusion. She'd watched him pull the word loyalty out of his ass and flowers from Beth's scars and then, Dominic had expected her to clap. 

(Oh what a charming selfless man, flying all the way out here for little old us? How heroic!) 

Amy didn't often clap, she was more the type to scowl when people applauded the pilot for landing a plane. She had no intention of taking part in Dominic's show, no matter how attractive he may be.

Dominic seemed perfectly comfortable in the silence. 

He stood there, looking at her as she patiently waited for his probably rehearsed response. 

She could hear his head tremble with the mechanics of being so aware of how you were perceived; it was so strange to Amy, she was unapologetic in any way and yet Dominic seemed painstakingly copied and pasted. 

Was that what lawyers did? Cherry-pick every word and phrase for the perfect execution? Didn't that get exhausting?

"It wasn't my idea," was what he said firmly, holding Amy's gaze, "Beth's the one who is heading this legal plan. Most of these ideas are hers. I actually tried to talk her out of it. But I'm sure you know her very well, know how stubborn she is––"

"Just out of curiosity, who pays better?" Amy asked, mirth balancing on the end of her tongue like a scalpel blade weighted in her hand. She was good with chaos, she and Beth had that in common. "Beth or Charlie?"

Dominic chuckled. It was a breathless one as if Amy's stamina was more than he'd bargained for.

"You're a firecracker, aren't you?"

Amy smiled back.

"Don't avoid the question."

If there was something that she and Beth were good at, it was arguing. 

They could do it for hours. It never got exhausting, never got unsatisfying, and Amy supposed that it was a real shame that they hadn't gone into law. Dominic seemed to think it too, his lips upturning as he drew a folder out of his briefcase:

"You ever think about going into law?"

"No."

"Shame."

"I prefer to work with my hands."

His lip twitched, "Right."

The folder was black. A little black book of defence and legal ideals, all condensed into stretches of paper and filing pockets. 

Amy's eyes flew to it, knowing exactly what was securely hidden inside: it was every piece of evidence, every single allegation and statement that had been made. 

Intrigue made her mouth dry, eyes following Dominic's fingers as he pressed the file down into the meeting table, conscious of her undivided attention–– Amy looked up at him.

"You'd make a good lawyer," Dominic said.

"What?" Amy asked, "You're not going to call me pretty too?"

A beat played out between them.

Dominic smiled.

"If you're asking if I have favouritism when it comes to clients–"

"Oh, I'm not asking," Amy said, crossing her arms over her chest, "I know."

"You do?"

She hummed lightly in confirmation, "Yeah, I mean... you admitted it yourself. You repay Beth for some loyalty she's given you over the years–– but with what? Crappy legal advice? Allowing her to flush her whole career down the toilet for a man who you also have a financial and legal interest in?"

For a few moments, Dominic looked as tired as she was. 

It was a shadow at the back of his eye, a wrinkle in the corner of his mouth as he let out a very long breath. His breath was interjected with a very breathy laugh, head shaking as if he couldn't physically take her every word seriously. 

Amy, however, just kept poignant and focused. She calmly watched him, knowing full well that he was in deep shit; so what if he was a hotshot lawyer who spent his weekends partying and vacationing while shutting down business deals on the weekdays–– he'd fucked up.

This is just the warm-up act, Amy wanted to say. 

Dominic hadn't had to sit through the night of Beth fumbling with her hurt. He didn't know what to expect as soon as Beth walked through that door. 

For that, he'd need some preparation.

"Believe me," Dominic said after a lengthy pause, one which seemed to realign the ground under his feet. He adjusted his lapel. "I have no interest in Charlie Perkins, other than getting him the help he needs––"

"I object."

(She'd always wanted to say that. She'd watched way too many episodes of Suits to miss that opportunity.)

"Charlie's family is the client we've had the longest," was what he said next, shaking off the smile that twitched on his lips. He leant forwards onto the table and Amy, very fleetingly, took pleasure in watching the muscles in his torso flex beneath his suit jacket and shirt. "Cal brought them over from his family's old firm back in Boston, they transferred so we've always represented them... in everything they've done. Just like Beth––"

"Loyalty, yeah," Amy nodded, "You mentioned that."

"Yeah," He said, "And... I also mentioned how I spent most of yesterday trying to do the impossible and talk Beth out of something that she's really put her mind to."

"So... you're telling me now that you can't handle Beth?"

She enjoyed this, pulling at strings, watching Dominic's eyes sparkle with every dip in the conversation. 

She really enjoyed it in any conversation, she loved getting under people's skin–– but with Dominic, god, she hadn't felt this sort of rush outside of a baggie in years. She was the prosecutor here, and he was wiping his palms on his slacks and smiling as if he was listing to a stand-up set.

"No, I'm saying it's against conduct to force my client's hand."

"And yet you'll help them break the law?"

Checkmate.

Idly, Amy wondered how much he'd been told about her. 

Through further conversation, Dominic seemed barely surprised at anything she had to say, any curveballs she tepidly threw his way. He seemed to weather her storm as if it was a very sunny walk in the park. 

(For the record, it wasn't. Seattle was still rife with a very violent storm that had almost blown Amy and her umbrella into a postbox across the road, leaving her profanities to get rushed away by the wind as she wrangled with the now broken parasol.) 

Dominic barely even blinked as Amy studied her cuticles, chipping around the edges of nail polish. She'd spent a lot of money on this manicure, prepping to look as regal as possible to be the witness of a very unruly wedding–– it was a shame this had to go to waste.

Because, sure as hell, Amy had been told about him. Beth had told her everything that Dominic had done for her, every little side job, every little coverup. He must've done more for Charlie too, little gilded favours that didn't look pretty on paper.

Dominic didn't falter. He had a good impassive face, Amy quite liked it. I

t was the right measures of sexy and unbothered; he was a very hot statue that was staring at her as if she'd never spoken in the first place. 

Amy's head tilted to the side with a very important question:

"You ever play Poker?"

Dominic shrugged.

"In Vegas."

Amy nodded, "I bet you're really good at it."

"I can hold my own."

"Yeah, I can tell," Amy said, "You're probably a very good liar."

(Derek had once called her a shark. She was the sort of person to smell blood and never let it go, to chase it and pursue it until she had what she wanted. (In retrospect, Amy guessed that's why she'd been such an effective addict.) In this room, despite how big Dominic was in the corporate world, he was the fish bleeding out into infested waters and Amy was the shark circling ahead. He'd bled the moment he'd kept a few too many lies to Beth and Amy was now marking out his underwater grave.)

"You don't like me, do you?"

His question was not unprovoked. 

Amy could only imagine the sort of whiplash this conversation must've been. 

They'd been sat in this room for five minutes and yet, Amy could feel every passing second–– she was so tired, she was irritable, but she was so focused. It was the symptom of the long night she'd had, the sleepless hours of sitting with Beth just out of the caution she'd do something stupid. She'd left Beth alone an hour ago out of the reassurance that she'd be okay. (Beth was a big girl. She could do this alone.) But, that still didn't stop Amy's chest from clenching whenever she thought about the world behind that apartment door.

"I wouldn't say that," Amy said simply, "I think you're a good businessman. Just a crappy lawyer."

His chin tilted downwards thoughtfully.

But she wasn't finished.

"I think if you really wanted to, you'd force Beth's hand," It was so easy to say this. If Dominic had measured and weighed his words, she'd penned one hell of an essay in response. "You don't have morals. You don't care what you have to do for your client, you do it–– If you really wanted, you'd stop Beth from doing this. You'd do your damn job."

Amy knew that Beth, of all people, did not need anyone to fight her battles for her. If Amy had to retrospectively choose one of her favourite Beth moments, she would've chosen one of the many instances that she'd watched Beth drunkenly try to fight a wanton hand that had just slipped a little too far down. 

Beth could hold her own, even stone-cold sober–– but that didn't mean Amy couldn't help a leave twist the knife a little deeper.

It was far too tempting to press the hilt further into him, easing it into his skin while distaste flushed through her bloodstream–– it was a shame really that he was a dirtbag who would lie and cheat all for a paycheck. 

He really was pretty and if Amy's past rendezvous with Mark had taught them anything, it was that she and Beth tended to have the exact same type.

"I also think you're not here out of loyalty," She said it wryly, chuckling as if she still found that word hilarious. "I think you know exactly why you're here... and it's not the money, or at least I don't think it is. We both know that Beth doesn't have the money that could cover your fees... not anymore. You're not here out of some professional loyalty. And I love Beth, I really do, but is she really that good in bed to keep you on call like this–?"

"Why?" He interjected and, for the first time in this conversation, Amy could've sworn he was slightly exasperated. There was a muscle clenched in his jaw, she could see it shudder very slightly. Good. "Why am I here?"

She had him right where she wanted him.

"Guilt."

One little word.

"You feel guilty," Amy said, "Your client might not be guilty, but you sure as hell are. You're not loyal. Loyal my ass... You stood there and you let Beth get wrapped up in Charlie's fantasy. You never said anything. You never raised a finger.. This is as much your fault as it is Charlie's, as much as it is all the others that stood behind him, protected him–– You're here because you feel guilty. "

It had to be said. She recognised the expression on his face. Now, his disconnect seemed more of self-preservation than it had before. There was nothing there in his eyes, just a bottomless void that was so indicative of a man who had stood by and let Beth fall in love with a fallacy.

(Maybe she was just giving him the benefit of the doubt? Maybe she was being hopeful? optimistic? The truth was, that Amy really couldn't wrap her around it: if he wasn't guilty, what was he? Just as much of a shark as his Google search results said he was? Was he just here to admire his work from up close? Witness the final burn of a star from up close?)

Dominic cleared his throat.

"Isn't that why you're here, too?"

It wasn't what she'd expected. 

She'd expected a denial or, optimistically, a confirmation. 

She'd wanted rapport, but didn't get it. 

Instead, all Amy was given was the calculated look in his eye, the way that he slipped one hand into his pocket and spoke with very specific precision. 

She could pinpoint the exact moment his manner changed–– his shoulders rose, his jaw set and he stared at her as if she'd committed a very heinous crime. The breath caught in Amy's throat. She almost choked. She dug her fingernails into her forearms to keep her body rigid.

The implications of his questions were this: the erratic skip of her heartbeat against the inside of her ribcage, the feeling of the ground shuddering very slightly beneath her, and the suddenness of every breath tasting sour.

"What?" was all Amy seemed able to say.

(Yes, Dom had been warned about Amelia Shepherd.)

(He'd listened to long renditions of sordid nights in New York, heard the good, the bad and the ugly about the woman sat opposite her. If Amy was under the impression that Beth told her everything, she certainly had not experienced a crumbling Elizabeth Montgomery in mid-withdrawal, chipping anecdotes between her teeth with very vague, bitter-tasting regret. The mental image he'd built of this woman collided with the reality of her–– yeah, he could recognise it in the unwavering tension of her jaw, the way that she met his gaze without fear or intimidation.)

It was clear from the moment he'd started speaking that Amy's attempt at cornering him was nothing like what he was capable of.

"I didn't Google you, but I have heard about you," He said, standing tall despite the wind that Amy had tried to direct at him. "Amelia Shepherd. The best friend from New York–"

"Ooh," She joked, although her voice sounded strained, "I have a character profile."

"You do," Dominic smiled, it was good-natured but there was a sharpness beneath it. "It's nice to finally meet, actually. You pretend that you don't think I'm the best at my job, but we both know that Beth wasn't the one that phoned Cal back in New York. I recognise your voice and your name. It was you."

Mentally, Amy was still there: standing in Beth's apartment, watching the woman crumble exactly how she had the night before, flustered and pained and sobbing about how she didn't want this. 

(This? The pain in her chest, the feeling of Manhattan becoming a bloodstained on her past. The realisation that the man she loved was not hers and the startling urgency of the pregnancy test on the counter top.) 

She'd been hysterical, she'd been fearful of bringing a kid into a relationship that was gonna kill her. Amy had watched it all, just like she had last night–– she'd grabbed Beth's cell phone and she'd dialled the first person she could think of. She'd been the person who had organised Beth's getaway car. 

She was the one who had placed Beth back into Dom and Calum's path.

"We did our part," Dominic said softly, "We picked her up. We dusted her down, and yes, we put Beth in Charlie's path and possibly that was an oversight for both of us–– but we have always done what is in both of their best interests."

Best interests? Sure.

She opened her mouth to chip in some light comic relief but was cut short by the look in his eyes. There it was, the same fire that burned in her–– the thrill of the chase.

"But you, Amelia, do you feel bad for what you did?"

Her eye twitched.

Oh fuck. This was not going to be fun to unpack.

"You're the person who introduced her to a lot of people... a lot of things... helped her make a lot of bad decisions... encouraged those bad decisions... You're also one of the reasons we had to step in and help her get out of New York, right?"

Amy didn't speak.

He wasn't wrong, that was the problem, Dominic was not wrong in the slightest. 

She could remember it, the nights where she'd lead Beth into very questionable bars and into cabs with very questionable people. 

Beth had been so hungry for friendships and Amy had been all too happy to introduce her to her friends. 

There wasn't a day where Amy didn't think about it–– how bright the shine in Beth's eyes had been and then how dark she'd appeared standing on that doorstep in the New York rain. 

She tried not to, but it crept in, invading thoughts that were traditionally happier––

Fuck, she knew she'd betrayed Beth too.

Guilt.

"We might have had our indiscretions, but if I'm not mistaken you, Doctor Shepherd, were no saint either," He said it all so formally as if their roles had reversed. Now he was the lawyer on the centre stage and Amy was grasping onto the wooden skeleton of the stand, trying to keep a straight face as she felt her stomach wrench. "I'm not going to try and compare my acts to yours. I'm not going to shove evidence under your nose or... or hide behind objections. This isn't a courtroom. But, I don't think it's fair to accuse me of betrayal when two nights ago you were sleeping with Mark Sloan. For the second time, might I add?"

Holy crap, maybe he really was a good lawyer.

"Everyone sleeps with Mark," Amy managed, holding onto her sense of direction with a steel grasp. "Beth didn't take it personally. Everyone does it. It's like breathing––"

Dominic raised an eyebrow.

"He into guys?"

"Aggressively straight," was her response as she really did struggled to appear so indifferent and matter-of-fact, "Although I've always suspected that Mark and my brother are a little too close for things to be completely just... y'know."

There was something about him, something about the way he spoke and said everything so frankly and with a precision that told Amy, he would be a lot harder than she'd thought to argue with. 

It occurred to her that maybe Beth hadn't been as unbothered as she'd appeared, that Amy had been right and that Beth had been jostled by the two of them sleeping together–– she must've spoken about it, must've told Dominic about how hard her day had been. First, her best friend and her ex sleep together and then her fiancé turns out to be a farce––

The conversation veered again.

"I'm here to do a job," He said. "It's a job that I do very seriously. And I'm here to submit my plan for the defence and finalise information on how we're going to tackle the hearing today. If you have an issue with that, by all means, there's the door. But I think Beth needs your support more than she needs your criticism today. I hear you a long night last night. So have I."

He was a better lawyer than she was, that was for sure.

Amy swallowed a lump at the back of her throat.

"And I'm sorry, I don't usually have to go for cheap shots when I'm in court, but I get the impression you like to play dirty," His words made her lip twitch slightly. She supposed that it would've been flirtatious in another context, but here, in this room, Amy was filled with the sensation of being a little kid playing werewolf. She looked into Dominic's eyes and saw a man who appeared pretty shameless about his actions–– it was the feeling of knowing exactly what the other person had done, exactly what those 'other things' entailed. "For the record, I'm great at poker, and I just played my ace."

"Vegas man?"

"Every new years."

Amy tilted her head to the side.

"We should go sometime."

He just smiled.

"But you're wrong about Beth," Amy said next, directing their attention back to the topic at hand. "I know her better than you do. I know that she's stupid when it comes to love. I know that if you told her the facts and made her realise exactly what she's throwing away––"

She was determined to look out for her. She was determined to fight for the career that Beth had so painstakingly worked to rebuild. Not for him, not for a man who had dragged her sobriety down with him. (That man (derogatory).) Amy just wished there was something more she could do–– something more she could say––

Dominic sighed to himself.

"She's not throwing it away," He opened the folder on the table and cleared his throat. She watched as he removed his jacket, neatly folding it and placing it on the back of the chair beside him. Fleetingly, Amy watched his shoulders rise, pleasantly surprised by the swell of biceps underneath the ice white material of his shirt. "I'm not going to let that happen."

It was futile, Amy realised, as she watched Dominic set out all of his documents for what was panning out to be a very late meeting. This man was methodical and he knew everything–– now wasn't that a dangerous cocktail. But Amy had been right before, he was exactly Beth's type. The sort of man who knew how good he was, who was able to hold himself upright despite how badly everything was on fire around him––

Holy crap.

She'd also been wrong.

Dominic didn't remind her of Mark. He reminded her of Beth.

"I'm not kidding when I said I had a long night," Again, their attentions were drawn down to the legal plan between them. From here, Amy could see all of the glossy pages, each one filled with photocopies and pictures and everything in between. "I know this room is empty... and I know things look crap right now, but Beth had a lot more people behind her than you think."

He then went onto describe how he'd spent the whole of the evening before on a conference call with his firm, pacing circles around his hotel room as they all discussed every legal loophole and outcome that they could find. 

He'd spoken to Calum at length, brought in outside executives and ran through everything they could. 

The night had unceremoniously ended with a noise complaint from the next hotel room over and the concerned face of a concierge delivering Dominic his ninth coffee of the night.

"What about tonight?" Amy's question made him smile. It was suggestive. There was a spark in her eye, one that challenged him to say 'no'. "Are you free tonight?"

"I'm busy, unfortunately," was his response, "Apparently, I have to do my damn job."

She would've said something to that. Maybe she would have laughed. Maybe Amy would've told him that she really fucking hoped his job was her–– But, she didn't get the opportunity to.

The sound of the door opening sounded like speech punctuation. 

It interrupted what Amy knew was going to be some very ambitious flirting on her behalf. 

(It wasn't often that she met someone who was so out of her league that it made her dizzy from altitude sickness. Now this was a mission she didn't mind giving her all.) 

Sadly, both of their heads turned, eyes flickering to the door as a lazy smile prepared to welcome Beth to this really depressing room filled with depressing topics.

Beth wasn't stood in the doorway.

"Am I late?"

Shock was an understatement.

Amy had to blink wildly to make sure that she wasn't hallucinating. 

One blink. Two blinks. Three. 

No, the image in front of her wasn't clearing. 

The next port of call was to pinch herself, slam her hand in a door or cause any other physical pain that could knock her out of, what was so clearly a nightmare. 

However, she figured that today had already been hard enough without a decent degree of self-maiming. 

That left her to just sit there, staring off into the doorway as an apprehensive Mark Sloan appeared far too small for the door he was standing in.

Holy crap.

Dominic smiled. It was a professional but friendly smile.

"No, you're just in time," He said, holding up a welcoming hand and gesturing to the seats beside Amy, "Feel free to take a seat."

But, Mark wasn't looking at the lawyer, he was looking around the room as if he was searching for something (or, as Amy suspected, most likely someone.) 

He looked as crappy as he'd appeared last night, his jaw jumping as he nodded back to Dominic's words. 

He was dressed in his work scrubs and seemed to have had very little sleep too. Notably, Mark didn't meet Amy's eye as he entered, taking the seat nearest the door. Instead, he just seemed to pretend as if she wasn't there at all. Amy, however, had the opposite approach––

  "Where's Beth?"

Amy barely even had the sanity to digest Mark's first question.

  "Beth is going to be a little bit late..." 

The lawyer explained, talking with Mark as if they were old friends. Amy's eyes flickered between the two of them, a sudden suspicion flickering through her as she felt the world spin erratically. Mark nodded, glancing at the empty chair to Amy's right. 

  "We thought we'd just get everything prepared before we start talking strategy––"

"What the actual fuck is going on?"

She sounded more bothered and surprised than she had through the duration of her conversation with the lawyer. 

In fact, she was more surprised than she had been when Beth had told her all about Charlie's sordid past. It was a sudden slight of hand, a reveal that had her shocked to the core. If this was a magic show, it was a fucking great one. 

She really hadn't seen that trick coming. 

Now, this she'd actually applaud.

"Doctor Sloan has expressed that he'd like to help with the defence."

It was Dominic who spoke. 

Again, he said it as if it was something that was completely normal. 

As if Mark Sloan walking into this room and becoming part of the Beth-Montgomery-Defence-Squad was completely understandable–– No. It wasn't. 

If New York Amy had seen this, she would've probably had a heart attack. 

If she hadn't had her heart-to-heart with Mark yesterday morning, maybe she still would've had a heart attack. 

Now she just stared at Mark, silently reeling through every moment she'd ever spent with the Plastic Surgeon sat beside her.

Amy scoffed.

"Does Beth know about this?"

Amy's question got no response. 

The two men looked at each other, very clearly exchanging a very brief pause of a silent conversation that Amy would, also very clearly, never hear. That elicited another low scoff out of her, her mood suddenly skyrocketing as she looked back at Mark.

"Oh, holy crap. This is going to be a shitshow."

(It really was.)

No longer was this just the addict best friend and the hot as shit lawyer, it was the cheating ex too. They were a very unlikely trio, the triple act from hell–– Amy was laughing in prologue to the look on Beth's face, the inevitable bewilderment that was going to halt her in her tracks. Oh God, Beth was going to have a heart attack.

"Amy––"

"Holy crap," She repeated, the word dominating her mind as she thought about how this weekend had panned out. "Holy fucking crap–"

"I want to help."

Mark sounded tired. 

She could tell from the sight of him that he hadn't found it easy to sleep after whatever had happened when she'd sent him into Beth's apartment. She'd never seen a man look so small. 

When he spoke, it was as if every word had a physical cost, as if it took him far too long to will his lips to move. 

The word help was so foreign to him, especially when it came to Beth. His mouth fumbled that word so hesitantly, as if he, too, was all too aware of how foreign this territory was.

Again, Amy seemed to have to reset her brain to truly realise what was happening.

(Beth hadn't spoken about what had happened between them, but Amy knew that it'd been fairly catastrophic. When Amy had asked, Beth had just shrugged and said that she'd said something and Mark hadn't said much back; but, Amy had seen the smudged mascara, the slight tremble in Beth's body and the Beth shaped, wet indent in Mark's shirt, and she'd pieced it all together like a detective trying to solve a murder. Surprisingly, with the two ex-lovers in a room, a murder hadn't been committed, just something equally as dastardly.)

"Holy crap."

Yeah, Amy skill couldn't wrap her head around it all.

"Amelia––"

Her lips twitched into a very hesitant but bewildered smile.

"Do I need to apologise?" 

Her statement made Mark's face flatten with confusion. She wasn't sure whether it was the phrase itself that caught him off-guard or just the fact that she'd found other words to speak. 

  "That shit I said yesterday," Amy said, "About you being a pussy? The poached egg gag... Do I need to take it back now or?"

"I don't–"

"Holy crap," This time it came out as more of a laugh. She pushed her hair behind her ear and looked over at Dominic, giving the man a highly incredulous look. "Holy crap–– Mark Everett Sloan is stepping up to the plate––"

"Amy."

"I mean, what are you going to do?" Amy said, her eyebrows raising as she looked between both of them. Mark appeared very slightly in pain as if this whole situation was his idea of torture. "Help? What are you gonna... you gonna seduce the board into an innocent verdict? Sleep with all the... Sleep with Derek? I don't know––"

"He's offered to be a character witness for the hearing," Dominic continued, completely oblivious to the way that Amy was currently going through all seven stages of grief. (Guilt had come premature and Shock and Denial, admittedly, had hit pretty fucking hard. Acceptance was taking it's merry sweet time.) "He's here to prepare some dialogue that he can offer as testimony––"

"You're..."

Amy trailed off, her eyebrows raising further and further as those words registered in her brain.

Character. Witness. Character. Witness.

Look, she knew that she was not the quickest when it came to legal jargon. 

The extent of her knowledge with terminology exclusively came from the first four seasons of Suits and Legally Blonde (both of which had been her go-to movies to watch while high.) 

Granted, she didn't really remember much of either of the plotlines or the actual contents (although she definitely remembered how pretty Meghan Markle was and how much she hated that Warner guy), but she knew what that meant. Character Witnesses, the people they used to vouch on the behalf of the defendants.

Amy blinked at Mark as he was assigned that title.

Mark Sloan, Character Witness.

Character Witness for Beth Montgomery.

"Holy fucking crap."

And then Amy started laughing.

"Amy."

Mark said her name quietly with the same energy of a parent whose child was making a scene in the middle of a grocery store. She ignored him. 

Amy wasn't sure whether it was the fact that she was just so exhausted that she'd reached the point of hysteria, or whether she was just finally seeing this all for what it was. 

Either way, she laughed cried into the palm of her hand–– unashamedly, loudly and with an almost desperation that left her breathless. As she did so, she thought about Beth, about the greatest friend she'd ever had, and the mess she'd gotten herself buried into.

"This, fuck, this- This is a mess."

She felt like just stating the obvious.

She was sat in a room filled with two men that had Beth had slept with and now was completely dependant on for the future of her career. 

Was Amy the only person who saw how fucking funny that was? It was hilarious. Beth had explained at length how she was so sure that Dominic Fox didn't actually like her, and how she now completely understood why Mark hated her. And yet, here these two men were, the only people in the goddamn world who were willing to sit in this room at 9 am on Monday morning and strategise to save her workaholic ass.

"It's not a mess," Dominic denied, once again gesturing to the legal notes on the table. Amy looked up, her eyes watery and chest stuttering as she fought to breathe. "We've prepared and we have a game plan––"

"N-No," Amy forced out between gulps of air, her body low in her chair as she paused to chuckle, "N-No, this is a goddamn c-comedy movie. Look at us! All of us. You two–– both o-of you have fucked Beth and  fucked her over and now h-her fate rests on y-your shoulders."

She pointed at them both, watching as Dominic's face seemed to crease slightly at the mention of his brief Dublin rendezvous with the brunette in question. 

Mark, on the other hand, looked caught off-guard; his head turned to look over at the legal representation. That, Amy, missed.

 (But if she'd caught it, she would notice how Dominic gave Mark a very strained smile as if he could tell exactly what was passing through the Plastic Surgeon's mind.) 

Mark cleared his throat.

"And me!" Amy wasn't finished. Both men looked at her, their brows furrowed as she laughed the two words into stiff air. "I mean I didn't with the–– but fuck, I fucked her over, too! Isn't it so fucking funny that Beth's innocent and she's going to walk into a room of guilty people that are only there because they feel bad for what they've done to her?"

No one quite seemed to know what to do with that.

The consciousness of knowing that Beth deserved so much better than what she had startled each of them in turn. 

Amy felt deep in her chest, this wrenching pain that discouraged her chuckles into very slow, even wheezes. As her laughter died, so did the delusion that this was okay, that this was small and manageable–– the reality? Beth was fucked. She had three people in her corner, each one there because they'd already proven themselves as failures.

The silence that played out following Amy's words felt like a fourth person sat at this table. It was a very unwelcome guest that Amy wished she could just kick the chair out from under them and send them plunging to the floor–– she didn't know what to do with the feeling in her chest, with the knowledge that their best, no matter how good Dominic was or how well Mark was able to give her a character reference... it just wouldn't be enough.

"I think we can do it."

Dominic's voice made the two of them look at him. It was a solemn look, the sort that made this whole thing feel more like a funeral than it did a legal meeting. Amy chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"Well," She sighed through her nose, "We better."

I don't think Beth's gonna survive it if we don't.

"Beth needs people in her corner, right now," Mark said, and Amy was reminded of how passionately he'd defended Beth's sobriety the first time. "She needs someone to hold her hand and... and look her in the eye and... and be there for her––"

"And they say romance is dead," Amy mumbled to herself. She was ignored.

"That's what we're doing," Dominic nodded. He drew out an assembled pile of documents from his folder and tried to rally them both along with a smile. "We're fighting this. We're doing what I do as a job every day... making the impossible possible and ruining corporate America one hearing at a time." Yeah, Amy guessed that had a certain ring to it. He paused and as if envisioning himself walking into that hearing, Dominic grimaced, "No offence Amelia, but your brother seems like a bit of a dick."

"No, please," She said back to him with a strained smile, "All the offence and more. He deserves it."

Not even Mark found it within himself to defend his best friend. Amy's eyes strayed back towards him, silently reminded of the fact that Mark had marched into that meeting with Derek yesterday and practically disappeared off the face of her earth. She knew nothing good had happened between them, but didn't know whether she had the sanity to find out what.

"I, uh," Mark cleared his throat again, "I don't think he's going to give up easily."

Was this weird for Mark? It had to be. 

The last time Amy had been in a room like this, Mark had been on the other side. 

He'd always been on the other side. 

She tried to catch his eye as he was handed a sheet of paper, a basic bullet point condensed list of the do-and-don'ts of character testimony, but he evaded her completely. She needed to know that this weirded him out as much as it weirded her.

"He never does," Amy tsked, thinking about her brother with a very vague scowl on her face, "He doesn't give up––"

Dominic let out a breath, cracking another breathtaking smile, "That genetic, by any chance?"

"Wow, pretty and funny, who would have thought?" Her response was caught in a faux exasperated rush of air, one that made Dominic nod and chuckle in her direction. Mark, meanwhile, just looked warily between them, too tired to put up with any degree of flirtation. "No, but really, my brother won't let this go. He thinks it's for the best but... he also thought marrying Addison was the best idea and..." a stilted, slightly manic chuckle, "We all know how that ended up."

Amy took great joy in watching Mark's eye twitch in her peripheral vision.

"So, the Chief is a pain in the ass," Dominic stated, clapping his hands together, "Anything else I should know?"

"Marsha Teller on the board has shares in a medicinal cannabis farm on the East Coast," Mark commented idly, engrossed by flipping through a stapled document that Dominic had handed him to sign. In unison, Dominic and Amy's heads both turned around to stare at him. He didn't notice. "That's probably something you could exploit if you found copies of the paperwork... spin some shit about how the board has motives with the legalisation of certain drugs––"

He halted, finally looking upwards to see the both of them staring at him. Both Amy and Dom were silent, paused in a moment of surprise as Mark looked between the two of them. Amy's eyebrows raised and Dom just frowned slightly.

Mark sighed, "We went out for drinks a year ago. She talks a lot when she's had half a glass."

Of course.

"Anyone else on the board you've screwed?" Amy asked.

Mark just shrugged.

Fantastic.

"Okay," Dominic said slowly, nodding as he pointed an optimistic finger in Mark's direction, "That's actually a pretty good talking point. I'll message my secretary back in Boston and I'll see whether she can fax over the public share information. Thank you for that, Doctor Sloan, that was actually very helpful––"

"Yeah," Amy had never seen that man fumble praise before, but it happened right in front of her eyes. Mark's cheeks flushed slightly and he smiled a very strained smile that was almost clumsy on him. Her eyebrows peaked even further up her forehead. He nodded, "Yeah–– you can, uh, you can call me Mark, Mark's fine."

"Okay, well, then, Thank you, Mark."

"Yeah," Mark repeated, "Happy to help."

Jesus Christ.

"This is still so fucking weird," Amy said again. She felt the need to keep saying it. It was weird. It was so weird. Her whole night and day yesterday had been so weird. "I don't know what the fuck Mark is doing here––"

He sighed, "I want to help."

"Why?" She asked although she was fairly sure she knew the answer. 

Her question was beyond exasperated and desperate, it was a word that was rushed and so sudden that it was almost unintelligible. She finally managed to get a hold of his gaze and bore into his soul, forcing the word down his throat until it was all he could taste. 

  And then, she finished her question: "What happened for you to suddenly, out of fucking no-where, want to defend her?"

A silence.

Mark held her gaze, but he didn't do anything with it. 

He just sat there and stared at her. There was no emotion in that man, just a rocky exterior that looked so different to his usual clean-cut precision. 

It was the same expression that he'd had when she'd asked him if he loved her. His body knotted tightly, every muscle in him tensing into a man who was closer to a statue than an actual living form. She watched the twitch of his fingers as he allowed her question to play over and over in his mind. She hoped it was on loop. Over and over and over and over. She hoped he went mad with it.

Mark didn't answer.

Yeah.

Amy figured.

(She wasn't going to take back calling him a pussy. He deserved the title.)

"You're going to give a character witness testimony after spending the whole of New York giving her hell for this shit. Talk about open old wounds, Mark," It was nice just to lay that information on the table, just in case Mark had forgotten. Amy's head turned to Dominic, her brow folded. "If Beth told you about me, she sure as hell told you about him, right? All of the shit that I did and then everything Mark did–– can you look me in the eye right now and tell me that putting Mark anywhere near that board is going to be a good idea?"

Dominic was impassive and almost robotic:

"We don't have any other choice."

Bullshit.

"If we want to build Beth up into this addict then we need to go for this narrative––"

"Wait," Mark said distantly in the corner, "You're still letting her take the fall for this?"

Even Dominic seemed caught off-guard by that question. His brow folded and he looked over at the character witness who had, as of ten seconds ago, signed on the dotted line saying that he'd do what he could to help and that he'd listen to all the guidance the legal team had to give him.

"She didn't do it."

He said it firmly, as if he couldn't understand why in the world Dominic would go ahead with a plan that was practically career suicide. 

Surprisingly, this time, Amy found him the voice of reason–– the whiplash she got from suddenly directing her animosity over at Dom (She turned until she was on Mark's side, staring over at Dom as he held that little black book tightly in over-caffeinated fingers). 

For the first time since this meeting had begun, Dominic looked as tired as he said he was.

"You don't know that, Mark."

Fuck, Amy thought to herself. She wasn't going to sit here and listen to Dominic lie to him in the name of some fake narrative––

"Don't give me that," Mark said almost sharply, shaking his head, "Charlie was the one who did it. It was Charlie that wrote the prescriptions–"

Oh fuck.

The widest grin appeared on Amy's face as she pressed her chin into her hands, looking over at the lawyer who, now, was seeming to realise how true the statement 'loose lips sink ships' was. 

He was staring at Mark, his mind resuming that hurried spin that reminded Amy of a very angry Apple computer. She watched the rainbow wheel spin round and round, Dominic's jaw clenching as his grasp on his folder tightened. Mark, on the other hand, just seemed to stare back, his manner changing within the matter of moments.

"This is all Charlie's fault, right?"

He looked between the two of them for confirmation. 

Dominic looked down at his folder. When Mark's eyes met Amy, she didn't speak, but the spark in her eyes was enough to keep him going onwards. She had the privilege of watching Mark's jaw clench too, his mind coming to a halt as he realised that yes, they were really doing this. They were letting Beth drive herself off the cliff with a parachute they weren't one hundred per cent would catch her fault. They were handing Beth a gun that they were entirely sure wasn't loaded.

"You're really letting her ruin her career?"

There was something oddly delicious about Mark's tone. It was equal parts incredulous and equal parts slightly pissed. 

It was enough to remind Amy of how this was the Mark she recognised–– the sort who could fight with words, not the one that fumbled with a thank you. She hid her smile behind her palm, eyes flickering between the two of them as she watched Mark raise the exact fight she'd been trying to really work out all morning.

"That's not going to happen."

"But it could, right?"

"It's what she wants."

"It's Beth."

He said Beth and Amy knew exactly what he meant. 

He meant Beth, the woman who worked tirelessly for everything she had. 

The woman who had been so burdened by the shadow of her siblings and the expectations around her, that she'd tried to make up for all of her self-perceived flaws by self-medicating with narcotics. 

He said it as if it needed no other explanation, and it didn't. 

It was self-explanatory. This was Beth and she was risking her career.

"Mark," Dominic said, his tone as even as he had been earlier when Amy had been the one ridiculing the career suicide plan. "It's Beth's decision."

"Yeah and it's damn stupid," Mark said back, a dent appearing between his eyebrows. (Ooh, Amy remarked silently, that had some fire to it.) "I thought you're supposed to talk her out of it. I thought that this meeting was to suggest something different. Something else. You shouldn't be letting her throw all that work down the drain. You should be telling Beth to––"

"Telling me to what?"

Beth was standing in the doorway.

She'd appeared out of thin air, a phantom of the hospital floor as if she'd died in that shooting as was destined to appear at perfect times. 

Immediately, the words decomposed at the back of Mark's throat, the Plastic Surgeon halting in mid-sentence as they all noticed her there. 

There was nothing glamorous about her appearance, nothing cinematic, nothing ceremonial; just one moment she wasn't and then she was.

Beth, ironically, looked the most put together out of all of them.

She paused on the threshold of the meeting room, a coffee-to-go mug in one hand and an umbrella in the other. 

Amy didn't recognise her clothing and almost didn't recognise the rest of her: Beth's pantsuit was neatly pressed, a navy two-piece that loosely displayed the white dress shirt underneath. She had a coat folded over one arm, the fabric speckled from the rain, and her work bag wedged underneath her armpit. 

If Amy hadn't known better, she would've thought that the psychiatrist had had the best sleep of her life last night–– her eyes surveyed them sharply, her hair was neatly parted and she looked practically spotless to the eye. No bruises under her eyes, no redness, not a single trace of the shaking woman who had crumpled against the outer wall of the apartment building just last night.

Amy's brow folded very slightly.

Beth's head turned as she looked at each person sitting at the table. 

Her eyes bounced between them, completely unfazed by the bad ambience in the room. She looked from her lawyer to her best friend, then to Mark–– Amy did not miss the way Beth seemed to stiffen at the sight of him, as if cleaning herself on last night's events truly wasn't as easy as she'd made it out to be.

"Telling me to what?" She repeated, a single brow raising as she looked away from Mark a little too quickly. Her accusatory gaze turned to Dominic, burning with an intensity that Amy had been waiting for. "Dom?"

The lawyer just sighed.

"Pleasure to finally have you, Beth."

The woman just stared at him, letting those words run through her head. 

In the brief silence, Amy found herself looking at Mark in the corner of her eye–– it seemed as though, from the moment Beth looked away from him, the Plastic Surgeon was left in deep thought. His eyes were now stuck on the centre of the meeting table, his face oddly impassive as his index finger tapped against his knee.

There was something so startling about Beth's presence now, how amongst what had been building up to be a very promising argument, she was able to render the room silent. 

They all waited for her to speak, leaving her time to very briefly look at Dom from head to toe, stepping into the meeting room with a click of her heels. (Amy could've sworn she saw Mark jump a little bit at the sound of it, but she honestly was struggling to keep up with things now.) Beth walked around the back of them, (Mark, again, allegedly tensing as Beth passed the back of his chair) and took a long drag of her coffee.

Beth chuckled.

It was a bitter chuckle that would cause Dom to still and the tone of the meeting to be set in stone:

"Yeah, I bet."

Oh, the world was in deep shit today.