Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟵𝟰 if i can't have love, i want power

Beth didn't consider herself a particularly violent person.

On the contrary, she'd once been peaceful.

She'd grown up with her head full of flowers and idyllic little dreams that she'd kept in keepsake boxes.

She'd once looked at life with such kindness, with optimism, with the sort of feeling in her chest that had brought her to a big city like New York. She'd loved and she'd held people so candidly and tenderly in the palm of her hand--

Now, these hands bled and peeled just like everything else.

She cracked her knuckles as she sat there, lying low in a seat that she was sure had been intended for professional meetings for a professional Chief.

She was alone in the room, eyes wandering over accolades and framed medical journal covers and a shiny nameplate that made him seem proud. What a pretty display it all was.

She had to bury her teeth into her bottom lip to restrain herself from smashing it all.

If she squinted at everything, it almost seemed like a funeral pyre.

A whole life solidified behind sheets of glass. Here lies the life and legacy of Derek Christopher Shepherd, a series of professional achievements and praises. What a self-righteous fucking basta-

The door opened behind her and she couldn't find it within herself to look over her shoulder.

No, she wouldn't turn for him.

As she listened to the click of the office door, the dull thud as he sealed his fate, all Beth could think about was her sister's wedding-- she blinked and she saw Derek as he had stood there, turning back to look over at Addison as she walked down the aisle.

One-step and then another. Beth knew that if she turned to look back at Derek right at this moment, the expression from his face would be far from a blushing bride.

In the short time that it took Derek to cross from the door to his desk, Beth tried to build his face in her mind from memory.

Her mouth went dry when she realised that, no matter how hard she tried, she could only remember it suspended in a grimace of disdain.

Disappointment, by all means, was Derek Shepherd's favourite outfit.

Her fists bunched against the hem of her jacket.

He took his time, of course he did, he had all the time in the world.

The whole world bowed for Derek, the golden boy of a whole universe that seemed built specifically for him. While Beth felt every second of a clock that perpetually seemed to be ticking down towards something, Derek wasn't running out of time.

He made that clear. It seemed to take him a lifetime to stand in front of her.

Beth was all too happy to meet his eye.

She looked directly at him as he held the back of his desk chair.

His hand clenched tightly and she got the memo without even speaking: Oh, he was angry.

About fucking time.

A delicious sense of retribution bloomed throughout her.

Good, be angry.

She wanted Derek pissed off, she wanted his blood boiling to meet her temperature.

She wanted his face to flush, his heartbeat to rise and his whole body to melt under the flame of his temper-- yeah, maybe then maybe he'd feel a fraction of how her day had been going.