Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟯𝟱 oh, baby!

"Addison wants you," He said finally, causing me to frown.

"She wants me?" I repeated, sounding very confused.

Today was Addison's big day. Sloan was being prepped for surgery and Addison was already in the OR, setting up her assorted baby-saving utensils. After our impromptu brunch last week, Addison had dedicated her time to planning; Sloan's baby was in a precarious position and she didn't want to compromise any of his limbs. 

She'd morbidly lamented over the phone to me just last night: "Sloan's freaking out," were her exact words, "Mark's not happy either— She said that the kid is already going to be alienated because of his Mom and he'll never have a chance if he's missing a leg." I'd just listened to her mutely, mouth curving down into a frown.

It'd given me a stab of deja vu. Just like Derek with his spinal case. I was in no position to help. I didn't know enough.

"Yes," Derek nodded. With a brief glance at his watch, he grimaced and held open the door for me. "She's asked me to sneak you into the viewing balcony— you in?" I stared at him for a prolonged moment or two, processing what he was saying.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Beats me."

Behind us, Eli let out a groan. "Surprised they want her anywhere near an OR. She's got a trend of fucking things up this week-" I let out a miffed laugh.

"It's Monday."

"Prove me otherwise." He bit back.

"I'll come—"

 I ground my teeth, doing my best to ignore Eli. Derek looked extremely relieved at my answer as if he'd expected for me to turn him down completely. Was it the forever present bad blood between me and Addie that had put Derek on edge? Possibly. But all I could focus on was the rush of adrenaline that settles in whenever you sit around an operating room. 

"But I'll need to get Mable to cover—"

"I'll sort it out," Eli interjected despite his stormy mood. He waved a hand dismissively as if to waft me out of the door like a bad smell. "One of the Psych Nurses lost a bet to Olivia ages back— I'll be damned if I can't call in the favour even if Olivia doesn't work here anymore."

"You sure?" I enquired, not quite sure why Eli would want to do anything nice for me, seeing as just five minutes ago he was at my artery.

"Yeah, it's whatever." He spun around to face us in his chair, leaning back so he could cross his arms over his chest. Eli fixed Derek with a very pointed look. "Just don't let her in that OR— she's the sort of person who would take out the brain instead of a kidney."

"That's rude," Was my last remark as I was navigated out the door by a bemused neurosurgeon. "You're rude."

"Bill me for emotional damages." Eli called just before his door shut.

Our trek to the OR floor was mixed with Derek looking very laboured in regular intervals. He was stressed, or so he said. Things were really heating up with his surgeries and he was now having to play man-servant at the beck and call of his ex-wife— 

"No offence." He added as an afterthought.

"None taken." I mumbled back, too distracted by Sloan's case to take offence. 

In a way, I was used to being scut, the sort of work my siblings, Derek or even Mark would push onto their interns. For years, my birthday gifts from Archer had been bought from Manhattan department stores by this one intern/eventual resident, who had an intense proclivity towards silk scarves.