Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟱𝟱 blood diamond

Meredith had, quite literally, had to orbit around Mark. It was as if she was married to the two of them. They always seemed to be in Derek's room at the same time. She was convinced that he hadn't been home since it had all happened. He lingered in this hospital like the feeling of death that was permanently in the air. 

She wondered that if he stepped out of this hospital, he'd disappear into thin air. The eldest Grey sister was concerned about him, but she hadn't found a way to voice that yet. She wasn't that good of a friend with the plastic surgeon. They were just two people with a mutual investment and interest in Derek staying alive.

"At least try to shower," Meredith said, not knowing how to voice that politely either. As the week progressed, she was becoming less and less concerned with politeness. Mark's eyebrows rose and she let out a breath, grimacing at herself. "Sorry."

There was a brief moment where Meredith almost told him that he looked like hell. He did. They all did.

"How's he been?" She asked, turning away and gently running a hand across Derek's leg. Behind her, Mark checked his pager, grimaced at the time and sat up a little straighter in his chair.

"Good," Mark said, "Hugh came in and checked his vitals three hours ago, he's... he's doing well."

"Good," Meredith repeated. "That's good."

He found himself absently glancing at the trash can beside Derek's bed, wondering what it was about that certain newspaper that had made her throw it away. She'd been picking them up a lot lately for Derek, giving him crosswords and sudoku to do while he sat through his intense bedrest. 

The Chief would get competitive over things and frustrated when he couldn't find the final word in his puzzle. Mark liked to watch Derek squirm and he liked the satisfaction of Derek finally, after two hours of stewing over the blank boxes, would ask him for help.

Mark was good at crosswords.

He swallowed his coffee and just watched as Meredith sat beside her husband and ate an apple. Mark had grown to recognise the ritual. 

She did it every morning before her therapy appointment, sat there, waited in case Derek woke up and then left. After her appointment, she'd start her rounds. It was a never-ending cycle— Mark wished that he had that sort of organisation to his day. Lately, he'd just been working tirelessly.

His on-call shift ended in an hour but he had a double-stacked in the OR right on top.

"Anything interesting happening in the outside world?" He asked.

It was another key aspect of their ritual. Small talk, awkward eye contact— it'd never struck Mark how little he'd spoken to Meredith. He'd been closer to Addison. He'd actually spoken to Addison. But then he figured that maybe the distance between Meredith and him was intentionally done by Derek for a very specific and clear reason.

"Not really," Meredith sighed, brushing some hair out of her face. "The only interesting thing is the staff meeting..." She turned her head and looked over at Derek, lips downturned. "He's going to be so disappointed when he finds out that they're going to be having a meeting without him—"

"There's going to be a lot of empty chairs."

He noticed how she tensed at his words. 

He regretted it as soon as he said it. It hit the air in an indifferent, numb way that caused goosebumps to rise on the sides of Meredith's arms. She shifted in her chair, paused her chewing and looked at him with her exhausted eyes. He was leaning against the back of the chair heavily, grasping onto the arms and holding his chin in a perfect posture— Meredith looked away.