Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

ASYSTOLE

"Dr Montgomery." He repeated my name, the sound of it almost chilling, a sound that would easily haunt me. He licked his lips shortly. "I shot another doctor- I shot a lot of doctors and security guards too. I killed all of them."

I raised my hands slowly in front of me as I found myself standing at the end of his gun. The movement f him raising it, it was slow but experienced. He'd killed people before, he'd shot a lot of doctors. He'd killed all of them. He was telling me this almost proudly.

He was telling me that I wouldn't survive this conversation, as if he was taking joy in the way my heart jolted in my chest.

Just briefly to my left-- I caught sight of it. Of a crumpled form against the wall, of a pool of dark, undisclosed liquid. My eyes burned and I let out a long breath, attempting to stay calm.

"I understand that you're sad," I continued, voice shaking far more than I'd like to admit. "I understand that you are sad and that you're grieving and that you never meant for any of this to happen- I'm a psychiatrist, let's sit and talk, Mr Clark-- people don't have to die."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something shift. I caught a glimpse of blonde hair, a glimpse that caused my breath to catch shortly. Oh for fucks sake.

Lexie Grey stared at me, wide-eyed, head peeking around the corner beyond Mr Clark. She was clutching what looked like a cart. There was panic written all across her rosy cheeks, brown, doe-eyes glistening brightly with a newborn fear that only made my face break into a look of distress. Mr Clark must've noticed the sudden break in my face, but misinterpreted it for a reaction to the sudden change of events. I heard the click of his gun as he undid the safety, lifting it higher so it was juxtaposed to my torso.

"You can't help me, Doctor."

His tone was firm; I caught a flame of recognition in Lexie's eyes, just at the edge of my gaze. Her face paled as if she could suddenly put the pieces together. It was only then that I realized that Mrs Clark, or Alison, had been a surgery patient, possibly a terminal patient or a patient that was DNR. It all added up with his grief; sometimes people were just unaccepting to the facts. Sometimes, people cracked.

"You can't help me because everyone here- everyone here kills everyone else." The anger and turmoil in his voice almost robbed the breath from my chest. There was so much pain, so much conviction that I had to fight to keep an anxious cry in my chest. "You people aren't thinking about saving lives! You kill them. You kill people. You play G-God. So I'm showing you how easy it is to lose everything- to lose everything like I lost Alison."

Lexie was moving quietly, to avoid Mr Clark noticing her. She was pressed up against the wall as if she knew that the slightest movement could startle him and end in our deaths. He seemed trigger-happy, I didn't know how I hadn't noticed the bodies, other than the one to our left. There was the smell of blood and death hanging around the hospital, underneath the thick blanket of detergent and cleaner. The smell was something that I'd come accustomed to. I'd never guessed that that smell would be of dying security guards and doctors; god knows how many innocent patients that had become victims to the very gun that he held in his hands.

It was all a normal day, a normal day until five minutes ago when Mr Clark had raised his turmoil-ridden eyes to mine.

"I am not a surgeon." I clarified firmly. "I do not choose who lives and dies. I am a psychiatrist. I help people. I talk to them, I listen to them. I help people grieve, people like you. I do not work with the body, Mr Clark. I am a psychiatrist, I do not play God. I help people- and I-I can help you."

My voice trembled on it's own accord, breaking as I raised my hands higher.

"I am not crazy." He said, sounding heated as his hands wobbled around my form.