𝙑𝙄𝙄.
MISSING A MAN / 𝘚𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘋𝘜𝘊𝘒
──────
SEATTLE
DEREK TOOK HIS lunch breaks at 11:30 am.
He'd told me that at the little get-together we'd had on my first night. By 11:30 am, Derek Shepherd (unless duty called) was destined to sit in the canteen, eat his lunch and spend the rest of his half-hour flipping through medical journals and waiting for the scream of his pager. Naturally, Derek, being Derek, had extended an invitation to me. If I had nothing better to do (which I sure as hell didn't), I could come to drag my ass down into the canteen and sit with him.
We'd spent the day before talking about my life back in Indonesia. He'd snuck me into the staff area and bought me coffee and talked about the last four years that everyone had missed. It was a repeat of the conversations I'd had with Archer, but with the addition of the plane ticket. I'd told him that I was leaving. He'd been sad, but he'd understood. He'd told me that the only good thing about Archer coming to Seattle had been my reappearance, that he'd missed me a whole lot more than he'd initially realised-- I'd smiled at that.
He said that he'd sneak me onto the attending's table and I'd told him that as long as he kept me as far as possible from Mark, I'd take him up on his offer. Chuckling, he'd agreed; all while the man sat a few bar stools down from us seemed to scoff silently as he overheard my last request.
"Hi, I'm looking for Dr Shepherd." The receptionist looked up at me from the other side of the desk; she had sharp eyes and a permanent frown fixated onto her features. I glanced at the clock behind her. It was 11:40 am and Derek wasn't in the canteen yet. "I was supposed to meet him at 11:30- is he busy? Did he get rushed into surgery or something?"
She told me to wait for a few seconds and I fell quiet, watching her earnestly as she typed away on her computer, probably looking through Derek's timetable. I pursed my lips, glancing around at the surrounding reception.
The surgical wing was vast, a large collection of corridors and floors and rooms and employees- I was sure to get lost at some point. I wasn't particularly good at navigation, hence why I'd resorted to writing Archer's room number on the back of my hand with a sharpie pen. Derek had to be somewhere, I just had no idea where.
"Dr Shepherd is currently on his break." The receptionists' answer caused me to frown. My eyebrows bunched together as she read off the information she had on the screen. "Would you like to leave him a message with his secretary?"
I shook my head swiftly, still utterly bewildered. Where the fuck is he? "No, I'll try messaging him, thanks."
I gave her a parting smile and turned away, as soon as her eyes were off me, the expression withered and another grimace took its place.
I'd had lunch with Derek every day since the day after my arrival. We'd sat on a table and had quiet, fleeting conversations, occasionally being joined by his girlfriend, Sam or even a subdued Addison (although she would never sit, only pass, smile at the two of us and barely even speak a word). I'd grown to be quite fond of Meredith, she was the furthest thing from Addison I'd imagined Derek to get over Addie with. She was something different to what I, and I'm sure Derek also, was used to. The only similarity I could see to my sister was Meredith's dry humour.
Another thing I'd grown to know was that Derek is a creature of habit and rituals, although I'd known that since one of the first times I'd ever met him. He liked order to his schedules, he liked to have himself organised and in one piece. Missing 10 minutes of his lunch break when it wasn't due to his work was simply no dice.
So where could he be?
In all honesty, I had no idea. Absently, I decided to trail a few floors, just in the off-chance that I'd come across my ex-brother-in-law and pull the old "oh, fancy seeing you here" card. My navigational skills strained as I ascended the stairs in the corner of the reception, going towards what I somewhat knew was a walkway towards radiology. I would have to get used to this hospital if I was going to work here- god, the thought of working here suddenly made my skin crawl. I'd mentioned it before to Derek, to Archer and to practically everyone who would offer an ear: Seattle Grace was not an environment I'd worked within a long, long time.
It was so busy and chaotic. I was used to chaos, I'd inhaled and exhaled chaos at one point, but this wasn't the same chaos as Indonesia. Somehow, walking around a big hospital like this seemed far more daunting. Maybe it was the people who worked here or the fact that I had a deathly feeling deep in my bones as if I just innately knew that nothing good would happen here— but I had goosebumps trailing up and down my arms as I approached the walkway.
I paused as a commotion filled my ears.
Up ahead, a sudden crowd had congealed, blocking the entrance to the bridge between the two halves of the wing. Whatever it was that was happening, it appeared to only be in its early stages- staff, patients and visitors alike all drew towards the walkway, gasps and shouts echoing across the crowd. I craned my neck, attempting to look over the sea of heads to see what was going on. My attempts were futile, so I managed to slip in between people, passing people as they asked others to get security, page certain people or turn and run for aid. There was a certain uneasiness that pooled in my stomach but it wasn't until I got to the front of the crowd that I saw what was going on.
Two men grappled and fought on the floor. One straddled the other, repeatedly beating his hands into the others face. The man who was pinned onto the group yelled incoherently, fighting back against the assault and throwing his arms in powerful movements, attempting to slam the assailant off of him.
A horrified gasp fell between my lips: Now I know why Derek is late to lunch.
His back was to me, but I could recognise that mop of gloriously dark hair anywhere. He was the one hunched on top, acting with such determination and ferocity that I was fleetingly worried that I would watch Derek Shepherd commit homicide right in front of me. He appeared to be enraged, in such a narrow mindset that he had no regard for his actions. His limbs were violent, punches thrown with deadly accuracy and precision. The sight chilled me to the bone.
Then the realisation hit me, quite literally.
A nurse shoved past me, flying away to go and find someone to intervene, and the jolt seemed to snap me into reality. Derek wasn't the only person I recognised— the man, bleeding onto the floor, was Mark.
I broke free from the crowd as the two males thrashed against the ground, muffled thuds and cries clashing between the two of them. Some nurses tried to usher me back, but I was too wracked with concern, my breathing unsteady as I speed-walked towards them. It was foolish of me to hurry forwards, but I felt the sudden need to intervene- fuck, this was both terrifying and satisfying to watch. The horror I'd initially had seemed to twist into a sick sense of fulfilment- as much as I hated that Derek was wasting his lunch break on this, this had been a long time coming for Mark.
My eyes widened when Mark rolled Derek over, getting the upper hand in the fight. But Derek forced his hands on Mark's neck, propelling my ex-boyfriend into the glass rails, almost catching me as I hurried towards them. Mark stumbled against the ground helplessly, letting out a short yelp as Derek, once again, launched himself at him.
I found myself wrapped up in a stupor, images of New York flashing past my eyes. The sound of Derek's heartbroken voice echoed in my ears and I swallowed, forcing myself back a few steps as they continued to scrapple— what the hell was I doing?
A doctor powered out of no-where, slamming his arms around Mark and holding him tightly like a vice. Before the intervention, they had finally gotten to their feet, throwing punches at each other blindly as blood streamed down both of their faces. As soon as Mark was contained, Derek seemed to topple over and crash down onto the floor, as if Mark's violent grasp had been the only thing keeping him upright.
I let out a gasp and rushed forwards, reaching Derek at the same time as a flustered Meredith, who materialised out of the crowd. I went down onto my knees and felt oddly like a surgical student as I ignored his groans, lifting his chin and checking the already dark bruising over his face.
"Derek-"
I attempted to calm him as he groaned and rolled on the floor; out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mark trip over his own feet, dazed from the heavy blows he'd sustained. For a split second, I looked over towards him, catching his gaze as he froze in the attending arms. Like Derek, he was already littered with bruises and had some nasty cuts up and down his forehead.
But out of everything, the most painful thing to look at was his eyes; he stared straight into my soul, his eyes swirling with a deep rage, mixed with a dark and violent affliction. My lips parted, eyes welling very slightly with tears- but almost as soon as our eyes met, he was forced away into the furthest part of the walkway, putting ample distance between the two men.
Derek attempted to get to his feet; Meredith and I helped him up. She'd been speaking to him, her mouth in a thin line and eyes betraying the concern and sadness she was trying to hide. He swayed slightly but managed to stand with Meredith propping him up. It seemed as though the moment Derek stood upright, Mark's legs gave out— I looked over just in time to see the doctor ease him to the ground.
"What the hell was that about?" I asked Derek heatedly, my face twisting in bewilderment and concern. He refused to meet my eye, instead, he looked over my shoulder.
Another newcomer approached. I followed his gaze to see Addison stop in the middle of Mark and Derek, her face suspended in shock as she put the pieces together. She carried two coffees in her hands and her eyebrows were pitched high at the top of her brow bone. She looked back and forth before her eyes rested on me.
As Derek neglected to give me a reply and Meredith laid a soft hand on his shoulder, I stepped back. Slowly, I turned and approached my older sister, standing beside her and wordlessly holding a hand out for the coffee in her hand. Addison gave it to me without a second of deliberation; I lifted it to my lips.
It was cold.
We stood side-by-side in silence, Addison was distraught and I impassive. Maybe I was too tired for anything other than silence or I was not interested in getting pulled into the drama of Mark Sloan, but I felt myself completely disassociating from everything that was happening— but despite everything, I found my gaze lingering on his figure out the corner of my eye.
He got to his feet unsteadily, refusing any help from the surrounding nurses and other doctors as they came up around him. He clapped the shoulder of the doctor who had pried Derek and him apart, his head bowing shortly as he ran a finger tenderly under his bleeding nose. He reminded me of a wounded lion in a nature documentary; a majestic beast with its mane, but a noticeable battering. He kept his chin up, kept his posture as perfect as he could and balance his (delicate) ego on his shoulders as he limped out of view. I watched him until he was out of sight, until the sick satisfaction in my chest could die down.
I let out a breath I didn't even realise I'd been holding, and glanced over towards my sister as I decided maybe accepting Addie's coffee hadn't been as worth it as I'd spontaneously thought. She was distracted. I followed her gaze. Her sad, reminiscent eyes were fixed on Derek as he was helped out of the walkway by his girlfriend.
The crowd began to clear but still, Addison and I stood, both shell-shocked but one better at concealing it than the other.
"Well," I cleared my throat, being set on edge by the severity and seriousness of the atmosphere. "I sure as hell didn't miss all this drama, that's for sure."
***
─── Addison left for LA that evening.
Her flight was two hours before mine. I hadn't even booked a taxi yet. All I'd accomplished was packing my bags and checking out of my hotel. However, Addison seemed fully prepared. For some reason beyond my knowing, she waited for me in the foyer of the hospital, catching me as I turned up to sit with Archer for a while. She was unmissable in the crowd, stood beside a small suitcase with her eyes fixated on the phone in her palm.
At first, I was going to attempt to sneak past her, to avoid the conversation that would happen. However, she picked me out of the crowd, starting towards me with a bright smile. It was as if she'd known that I would attempt to do something like that— which of course I would, what screamed Beth Montgomery more than avoidance and fleeing chaos?
I was practically cornered just by the reception desk, my tired eyes fixing on the way her smile subdued quicker than a light switch flipping on and off. She dragged in a long breath.
"My flight is soon," It was early evening, the light was dwindling outside and yet Addison's eyes seemed to glow in the overcast lighting. Her expression was half-hearted and she took sheepish breaths. "I, uh- I just wanted to say goodbye. It wouldn't have been right if I'd just up and left."
It wouldn't have been right but it would have been better than this.
I didn't speak, just crossed my arms over my chest, watching her intently as she retreated back into the same awkward state as earlier.
It was uncomfortable, awful for both of us— but Addison was trying. She felt guilty, it was something that blazed at the back of her eyes. She couldn't hide it, no matter how hard she tried. The few moments we stood there was full of the same routine; Addison would seek out eye contact ever so often but as soon as she had it, she couldn't hold it. Her shoulders sagged and she finally cracked under the weight of unsaid things that we shared between us.
"I know that I'll never make up for all of the things that I did..." Addison's eyes suddenly glistened with a sheen, one that caused me to shift from one foot to the other, deeply frustrated by the way her words made me feel. "I am so, so sorry Beth. When I think about New York and Mark... I just feel so disgusted with myself. It was one of the worst things I've ever done and I will always regret everything- possibly until the day I die."
I bit down, hard, my molars grinding deep into one another as her voice came out, small, honest and delicate.
As twisted as it sounded, I'd often thought about Addison grovelling to me. I imagined myself in the position of Heather Chandler, forcing Veronica Sawyer to get on her knees and apologise- the whole of that movie had had me wondering how far vengeance really could go, but then I'd promptly upped up my medication to stop some sort of homicidal maniac episode. I'd imagined this whole scenario to be a lot more cinematic, maybe a bit of rain, maybe mascara tracks running down her face.
Instead, I had Addison looking tearful as she spared a moment of her life to look back on the misery I'd gone through. How nice of her. I didn't want to have a little pity party, but Addison seemed hell-bent on throwing me one.
I let out a breath and said one of the only honest things I'd said in years.
"You don't get it, do you?" My voice was muffled, as if I was straining between my emotions. "You think this all about Mark and it's not."
I felt like I was in a therapy session back in Canada. But this time, instead of voicing my thoughts about Addison to a shrink in some dressy office, I was staring at Addison as a cycle of shock and bewilderment span across her crumpled features.
Mark had always been the standout to her. It was what had ruined her, it was the one thing that had actually impacted her and broken apart her marriage with Derek. She'd chosen to have an affair with my ex-boyfriend consciously, she'd made the decision to break my heart-- but that wasn't what had stuck with me. There were other things than Addison actually sleeping with Mark that I was still angry about; the gaslighting that lead to me having a tremendous emotional breakdown was the main feature.
"Do you think I ran away just because you joined the long list of girls that Mark fucked while we were together?" Addison didn't answer my question and that gave me my answer. I scoffed loudly, scuffing my foot along the floor as I struggled to find a way to understand the hot rush of thoughts that swamped my brain. "This whole thing, it's a fucking mess, Addie. I don't think you understand-"
"I do understand-"
I shook my head, disgusted at her. "You're trying to apologise to make yourself feel better because I can see the guilt eating you alive— but when am I ever going to stop feeling shitty about all of that shit you pulled in New York?"
I had a lot of pent-up frustration. I was a hot-headed person and the near-week that I'd spent in Seattle was enough for steam to build up behind my impassive glances and hazy smiles. Addison distanced herself, probably because she knew what I was like— I was full-on when it came to my anger, I like to voice my frustrations instead of bitching about them or hiding them like I had been, ever since my last therapy session almost fourteen months ago.
Addison was a big girl. She could take it.
"I left New York because I couldn't deal with you, anymore," I said every word with surprising control. My voice was tightly wound but my thoughts were clear and precise. "I couldn't deal with the fact that the man I was in love with hated me and... that my sister had decided to... to show that she really didn't care about me by taking advantage of that."
Her chin wobbled slightly.
"You had a hand in one of the worst things that's ever happened to me," I pressed my lips together and just shook my head. "And you didn't just hurt me... you hurt Derek too. You said that you were doing what was best... sending me to rehab and helping me-- but you did it all for yourself, Addie."
I couldn't quite delve into that mess. I just touched on it very briefly and recoiled as if it stung. It did sting, in a way. Whenever I thought about the six months Addison had spent sleeping with Mark behind my back, I was filled with very intense humiliation and shame.
"I feel like I can't trust you." My eyes were slightly glassy and I blinked quickly to avoid a light shower of tears. I dragged in a deep breath and sighed. "I'm not the sort of person who forgives and forgets, you know that."
I was far more into resenting-and-remembering. It never got boring.
"I do." She was tight-lipped and looked down at the ground.
"You're my sister, Addison."
She smiled sadly, I returned the expression. Fuck, I felt everything flood on top of me— She'd meant the world to me. I'd looked up to her, I'd idolised her, she'd been the one who I'd happily follow into the jaws of death. And she'd treated me like shit.
"I'm forgiving you for Archer."
I'd been so set on hating her forever. It was easier than any other alternative. This whole trip I'd never gave her any indication that I could warm towards her. I'd been dead set on icing her out. But then Derek had beat the shit out of Mark and I'd had a complete change in plans. Her head rocketed and a pair of eyes stared at me, bewildered and shocked.
In my head, I was sat in a therapist's office, lying back and staring at the ceiling. In the corner of my imagination, my therapist was smiling at me, wide and warm at my immediate breakthrough— in real life, Addison was trying her hardest not to cry. She launched herself at me, not being able to restrain herself any longer. The hug was long, heartbreaking and for the second time in the last week, Addison Montgomery was crying into my shoulder. But, this time it was happy tears. The flurry was only light and it ended as soon as she took a step back, holding my chin and smiling at me as I'd once imagined a mother to smile at their child.
"I need to be a better person," I said in a raw voice, my jaw clenched from the effort of remaining impassive. Addison was engulfed by the emotion that shook through my words and smiled again, teary-eyed and sniffing loudly. "Please let me be a better person- I've spent so long trying to be a better person... I need to be the bigger person in this situation because Archer can't deal with this stress."
She nodded. "Of course- Of course-"
"I can't promise that I won't hate you."
Her face faltered but she nodded again. "I wouldn't expect you to."
"I can't promise that I'll forget. I know I won't."
I let out a long breath and just stared over at her, feeling my shoulders collapse. I'd said all that I'd need to say. Addison looked sad but the hope in her eyes had grown, expanded. My solemn expression rippled and we shared uncertain smiles, just as everything really hit me— I was moving on, just like Derek had been telling me to. It was more important than anything else that Addison knew where my reservations lied. As I'd said before, I was going to be civil with her for Archer, but I also supposed that I was doing it for myself too.
I needed my family, even if they didn't need me anymore.
From there on, our conversation had no turbulence. Addison hugged me two more times, each with remnants of tears on her cheeks, and told me tenfold that I had to visit her in Los Angeles. I'd nodded politely, remembering all of the other invitations I'd received— maybe it'd be an idea for the future. She told me fleetingly about everything she'd been wanting to tell me about but hadn't because of my stand-offish approach to our reunion. She'd let Derek go and she'd gotten his forgiveness, but apparently, mine was what had really counted. I hadn't made any particular comments on that part, just given her a strained smile.
And then she was gone. Her taxi to the airport was sat outside, patiently waiting to ferry her to her flight that would put her thousands of miles away once again. I watched her leave, slightly relieved that I'd gotten her out of the way. Of course, it was sad to see her leave but it was a massive relief that she would be one less of a face that I'd have to watch wither in disappointment when they realised that my ability to emote had been severely fucked up.
I turned around and started in the direction of the elevators at the back of the reception. I quickly dabbed under my eyes at a few tears that escaped my eyes and rolled my shoulders out, easing the tense, angry muscles. But then I looked upwards and caught a pair of electric eyes, a man stood right beside the elevators. I slowed down in my step and without a moment's hesitation, rerouted my destination to the stairwell to my left.
Cardio was better than that situation.
My pace was curt as I opened the door and took the steps a few at a time. In my head, I was thinking about Archer, focusing on what I would say to my brother to break the news.
Hey Arch, me and Addison are best friends now!
Hey Archer, I just sold my soul to the devil for you!
Hey- Addison's gone a couple of places down on my hit list-
"That was nice of you."
Huh, talking of hit list.
His voice echoed around me and I let out a soft rush of air. I wasn't sure whether it was because I hadn't been keeping up with my fitness as much as I should have been or whether my body was so suddenly overwhelmed by him that it did everything but implode— either way, I felt extremely weak. I clenched my jaw, testing the muscles evenly, wondering idly whether I'd just collapse into a cloud of hot air or water and drop through the holes in the metal staircase.
"Yeah," I said in a detached voice, finally hearing his careful footsteps as he made his way up to the plateau. He always walked really fucking slowly. We'd argued about that a lot. "I figured that I should do something about the fact she keeps looking at me with teary eyes and crying..."
I looked over my shoulder fleetingly, giving him a strained smile. He was stood there, leant against the railing, watching me with a vaguely amused expression that made my stomach knot. I figured that my smart-ass comment was a good place to leave this whole-first-conversation-in-years situation, so I went to take the rest of the stairs in twos.
However, I was caught in mid-step as he spoke again.
"It's a good thing that Derek's mean left hook has given me constant eye water, then."
I scoffed. The problem with Mark Sloan was that he knew exactly what he needed to say to rile me up. I took in a deep breath and stopped myself from turning and facing him. I audibly laughed- something that sounded very obviously forced- and shook my head, merrily going on my way.
But he persisted. "I think I have a few tears coming along now if you stick around long enough for them..."
"I've got things to do, Sloan." I did. I had a lot of things to do. All the things that I'd rather do than stand here and talk to my ex-boyfriend.
"Like what?" I kept walking as his incredulous voice floated up around me.
"Like walk away from you."
He laughed, again, the sound enveloping me. My stomach dropped somewhere out of my ass at the sound of it, my jaw clenched and I continued my journey away from him. It wasn't obvious from the outside but I was pissed off. I'd been enraged from the moment I'd heard his voice— the nerve he had to come in here and joke about forgiveness. But I'd grown to know his games.
"Oh don't be like that, Beth-"
"Like what?" I threw his words back at him in a short snap. I made the risky decision of glancing back down at him, looking down the floors to where he stood, still on the landing from before. Mark gazed up at me, his lips fixed into a slight frown and his forehead in a few desolate wrinkles.
"We need to talk..."
I knew that tone. I'd fallen for that tone way too many times. My lips let rip a long, loud scoff and I ripped myself away from the railing, leaving Mark to wait for a reply that I intended on never giving. I haughtily made it up a few more steps, reaching the third floor.
"I'm not kidding."
"Neither am I," I called back to him, hearing an exasperated sigh in response. "We're not talking, we're not having this conversation-- not now."
"I need to talk to you." It was Mark Sloan's soft 'let's-talk-about-mushy-things' voice. It was rare and just made me angrier. I didn't need that.
Even so, there was a pause as I reached the door leading onto Archer's floor. My heart seemed to skip a beat. I hesitated, my fingers outstretched for the handle of the door. Half of my brain was wondering where the hell other people were in this hospital (did no one else take the stairs these days?) and the other was fixed on more pressing things— was this the right floor?
God fucking forbid I have to go back towards Mark if I'd gone too far up the building.
As much as I wanted to revisit everything I'd covered in therapy, I'd already had my fair share of emotions for the day. I turned around, stalking back towards the railing. I stared down at him, catching a brief look of (some form of) surprise that flickered over his face. I gave him a wide smile and scoffed.
"Get over yourself." I paused, before continuing. "I really, really fucking wish I'd been the one that had beaten the crap out of you."
He sighed angrily, leaning forwards to grip the railing in front of him with a grip so tight that it shone white against his skin. I took that time to truly admire the number Derek had done on him. Now, I wasn't a naturally violent person (although I was known to throw a mean right hook after a few bottles of wine) but I would have paid good money to watch Mark Sloan, plastic surgeon extraordinaire, set his own nose back into place.
His face was littered with bruises. His nose was distinctively red and if I'd paid attention to it up close, I was sure that I would've noticed swelling and some bruising around his nasal bone. All symptoms of a broken or fractured nose. God, what a pretty sight it was.
It made my lips twitch and, for a moment, I let myself feel it-- I felt the wounds of how we'd been left. There was a heart that still ached, even all this time after the fact. It stuttered under the weight of his blue, blackened eyes and I inhaled sharply, gripping the bannister so tightly that, for a moment, I thought it would splinter in my hand. A familiar feeling rose inside of me, bubbling so my throat was tight and my eyes strung slightly--
It annoyed me that he was the same. It annoyed me that he seemed to just stare at me, as if he didn't struggle to stare into the sun like I did. It annoyed me that he was still the same old Mark with no understanding of how real people felt.
"Beth-"
I'd always liked how said my name, but now, with a stomach full of spite and boiled blood in my veins, it made me feel sick.
"You chose Addie, Mark." He had. He'd chosen Addie and I wasn't going to hear anything different. "You slept with my sister-- I don't have anything else to say to you."
I got the last word for the second time today.
I high-tailed it down the corridor and found the nearest ward on the hospital map. I assumed that Mark knew exactly where I was going, but also knew that there was a good chance he'd do the maths that came along with it. (For example, him plus me plus Archer equals probable violence.) I took a few choice turns just for good measure, hoping that I'd lose him. It almost didn't work out in my favour as I got too close to becoming completely lost, but I managed to save face by finding a familiar face.
"You look lost."
"I'm not lost."
"You look it."
The nurse, who I'd grown to know as the one who had been assigned to look after Archie and his recovery, smiled at me widely. In one hand he clutched a polystyrene box from the hospital canteen (ah, so he was on his lunch break?) and a coffee cup in the other. His bright eyes watched as I awkwardly dragged a hand through my hair.
"Would you be even more surprised if I said that I'm avoiding someone?" I hoped he'd get the hint.
He sighed. "Follow me."
Hint received.
Eli was the night-nurse on watch in Archer's ward (other than the odd morning shift like the one currently). His duties as said nurse was to hustle me about when I'd taken alternating shifts sleeping at Archer's bedside (Addison had lived and breathed in this hospital but I'd challenged her for the single cot-bed). He had taken great joy in hustling me about at the early hours of the morning when Archer had needed more pain medication, or when he'd needed to check Archer's vitals. A few blurry mornings and muffled swear words- on my part- had roused a rather tongue-in-cheek dynamic between us, one which was quick to be built and rather interesting to watch. Well, that was what Archer had said over a medical journal, with a roll of the eyes.
"So, who are we going to talk about today?" Eli asked airily as he led me through a series of corridors and doors. I followed obediently, constantly on the lookout for the familiar human version of a rain cloud. "The ex or the hot, rich current boyfriend that books you posh hotel rooms randomly?"
The late-night sessions and Eli's consistency in appearing like (literal) clockwork meant that he was pretty up to date on most of my life stories. When I got tired I liked to share and, unfortunately, Archer was way out of it to listen. So, Eli had taken the brunt of it. That's why he flashed me a cheeky smile as we got further and further away from an abandoned Mark Sloan.
I rolled my eyes. "The ex." I then shot a look at the back of his head. "You know that he isn't super-rich, right? His parents just-"
He looked back at me as he shoved his shoulder into the door, opening it with a little smirk on his lips.
"Oh, so you have a type?"
I sighed, rolling my eyes as he led me straight back to Archer's room. Eli headed off to the staff room, leaving me to chuck my empty coffee into a trash can. Just before I entered, I noticed Derek, stood further down the hallway at a nurses' station. My head turned to peek into my brother's room. He was sat there flipping through a medical journal, all alone. It was my chance to tell him that I was going to--
Ah fuck.
"Derek, hey," I hightailed it towards my ex-brother-in-law, quite literally chickening out of breaking the bad news. I approached the neurosurgeon, face contorting when I saw that Derek was definitely worse for wear. "Are you okay?"
Mark had done a number on him. When Derek's head turned towards me I could only smile sadly at him. Gently, I touched his arm, noticing that his face was littered with heavy bruises and his lip was swollen. Silently, I revelled in the fact that Mark had gotten off worse.
"As good as I can be," He sighed; I could tell that his mood had taken a bad turn. I didn't exactly blame him. He looked over at me, clearing his throat. "Sorry about missing lunch..."
"Are you kidding me?" I said, trying to lighten the mood. "Seeing Mark get some karma... that was more than I could have ever asked for--"
"I punched him when he first turned up in Seattle," Derek interjected, a wry smile playing on his lips as I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "He, uh, turned up and I just decked him across the face... I'm honestly surprised you haven't done the same."
I chewed on my bottom lip. "I'm trying to... process my emotions in a 'healthy' way."
We exchanged a look between the two of us. It was the sort of knowing look that I could never achieve with Addison. After all, there really wasn't a bonding experience that hit the same as having your significant others cheat on you with each other.
"I thought you were leaving with Addie?" My ex-brother-in-law averted his attention back to the notes he was writing and I let out a nervous laugh.
"My flights not for another hour."
He noticed the twitch in my face. "You still hell-bent on leaving?"
I turned my head towards the door to Archer's hospital room. My ears swum with the conversation I'd had with Derek the day before. He'd told me that Archer was going to need to stay in Seattle for at least a month before my brother could be transferred back to LA; apparently, flying was a no go when you've had intensive brain surgery. There was something about Archer being alone with Derek and Mark in Seattle that made me upset beyond words--
"I don't know."
My confession was slow. It was an exhale that made Derek do a double-take. I didn't take my eyes off of Archer's door; the more I thought about how everyone had left Seattle, the more I thought about my brother being left behind, the less sure I felt that leaving for Indonesia was a good idea. He was my brother I couldn't just--
"What changed?" Derek stared at me, his brow furrowing. I didn't reply immediately. I tried to find the words, my eyes turning glassy with unshed tears as I thought about the last three days. "I thought you couldn't--"
"I can't abandon him," I couldn't. "I feel so bad. Archie's always been there for me through everything and the thought of just..." I trailed off, my heart throbbing slightly. "I know he's a grown man but... I know if I was the one in that hospital room... he wouldn't leave me alone."
Archer was the better Montgomery. He'd deserved better than our family. He was good, he was loyal and he wouldn't have dreamed of abandoning Addison or I in a city that was alien to us. He was so happy to see me too-- everyone was so happy that I was back... I felt like I was going to break his heart if I disappeared again. Sure, I could've just given him my cellphone number and told him to call but...
"Maybe you should stay."
Derek's suggestion was dangerous. I looked back over at him, aware that I did not look emotionally stable at all. I was too busy thinking about how Archer really had been dealt shitty cards in the family department-- how could someone so kind be stuck with a family who was so self-involved... They hadn't even told my parents that Archer was going to die. That's how fucked everything was.
"I don't think I can," I said softly. "I didn't realise what I was getting myself into... I thought that Seattle was a good idea but... Addie didn't even tell me that--"
"He won't talk about you."
His words caused me to freeze. I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat and I pressed my lips into a thin line, trying to gather my thoughts. Derek's eyes blazed through me, shining with a sudden brilliance that told me He was exactly who I thought it was. My throat felt dry.
"Mark refuses to talk about you," Derek spoke quietly, leaning towards me. "I tried to talk to him about it after I punched him... and he just won't let anyone even mention your name. He won't talk about it. He'll talk about Addison... he'll talk about everything else in New York... everything but you."
I searched his eyes.
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked. I'd always trusted Derek's advice. I didn't exactly know what I what supposed to do with the information he'd just given me. I didn't like to talk about Mark either. We were one of the same. "Do I stay and hope that I don't regret it? Or leave and go back to my life?"
I paused.
"I'm happy, Derek," My eyes welled with tears. "I'm really happy-- for once in my life... and now I feel like I can't go back to everything without feel extreme guilt--"
"I think..." Derek paused. "I think that if you need a reason to stay, Archer's a pretty good reason." Was it shit to say that I hadn't actually thought about what I'd do if I stayed? I hadn't thought this through at all. "It's only a month, Beth. You shouldn't let Mark be the reason you regret not staying."
I looked away.
"I'll help you," He continued, "If you want to stay. I told you that I'd let you stay with me and I meant it... you don't have to run, Beth. Things are different now."
Mark was a shit reason to do anything, I'd realised that years ago. He'd been an awful reason for me to abandon Archer, at least I'd had the additional excuse of Addison being a manipulative bitch. But then there was the thought of having to exist in the same space as him--
"You can handle Mark," Derek said, as if he was reading my mind. "If there's anyone in this universe, other than me, that can kick Mark's ass...it's the girl he won't talk about." I chuckled (a small sound) and Derek smiled. "Seattle isn't that shit when you think about it--"
"I don't know," I repeated, my brow scrunching as I thought about everything over and over again. It was as if I was in a constant spiral. That's all I'd experienced over the past few days. A vacuum of thoughts. "I couldn't... It already cost me too much to forgive Addie. I only did it for Archer. I still have so much hate for her.."
"You don't have to forgive Mark," He replied. "I wouldn't if I were you."
Derek had forgiven Mark though. I wondered whether there was just somethings that Derek could do that I couldn't-- or maybe I was just tired of doing things for other people.
"Still... I just don't think it'd-"
"Get a job here," Derek seemed to have thought about everything. "I know what you're like. I'm surprised you haven't poached cases in Psych yet. Take all the time you need. Get into some work, distract yourself and be here for Archer."
I just blinked at him. The thought of working in this hospital was a lot more daunting than he realised. But he was right. I was the sort of person who had to constantly work, constantly move. The last few days had been aimless and boring and I'd been constantly on the edge of tumbling into insanity. I hadn't thought about getting a job here.
"I don't-"
"Think about it." Derek said, cutting me short. His voice was soft. "I know it's hard... I know it's terrifying... but think about how good it's going to feel to stay and get under Mark's skin while doing it."
He had a point.
"Four years," I said quietly, shaking my head and wiping at my eyes. "Four years wasn't fucking enough, huh?"
"Seems like it," Derek lifted a hand and squeezed my shoulder. I noticed that one of his eyes were bloodshot from a knuckle to the face. "I remember when Addison turned up and I just... it just complicated things. We had to start over and really--"
"I loved him."
This time, it was Derek's moment to freeze. He paused, hand still on my shoulder and eyes still staring at me. I felt the smoulder of his baby blues on my cheek as I averted my gaze back towards Archer's door.
"I loved Mark a lot," I continued, feeling scars reopen and my chest tighten. "I know he was convinced by the end that I didn't. But I loved him so much... and for years I haven't known what to do with all the love that I had for him. All of that pain and anger and... " I paused and shook my head, "I can't start over.. not after everything that happened."
Derek's thumb rubbed circles into my shoulder blade.
"Then don't."
I looked over at him. He just smiled sadly at me, understanding what was happening-- it was the confrontation of four years of me distracting myself from the reality of what had happened. It wasn't just the dissolution of our relationship... it was everything that had happened afterwards too. It was the secrets that we kept from each other, the things I never planned on letting slip--
Fuck Mark Sloan.
I shook my head at him, my momentary lapse into sadness replaced by a slightly miffed frown. "Aren't you supposed to be best friends again? Mark's cheerleader or something?"
Derek quirked an eyebrow at me, but seemed to wince when he disturbed a bruise.
"Did you miss the whole fighting thing that just happened or..."
I rolled my eyes, thankful for the change in tone. I wrapped my arms around my torso and smiled weakly at Derek as he asked me to text him if I changed my mind. Apparently, he had a trailer on the outskirts of Seattle I could use if I decided to stay. How nice of him. I watched him amble off down the hallway, but didn't miss how his mood seemed to drop again once he thought he was out of view-- there was something going on with him too.
With a big sigh, I hitched my bag up my shoulder. I made sure that I didn't look sad, checking my reflection in a window as I made my way back to Archer's room. I knocked on the door and, once my brother called out, donned the widest smile humanly possible.
He looked delighted to see me and vaguely surprised.
"Hey, kid."
"Hey, Arch."
He looked better. He looked healthier. He returned my smile as I ambled towards the seat beside him. I resumed my position from earlier, collapsing onto the furniture heavily. I dropped my bag (which was all packed for my flight) under Archer's bed and pushed it as far under as it would go. When I looked back at my brother, he was beaming at me.
"What?" I asked, bewildered.
There was a brief pause; Archer averted his gaze down at the medical journal in his lap. I could see the cogs turning in his head, a pause in his subconscious as if he was debating with himself to speak-- when he eventually did look back up, his smile had turned sad.
"I thought you'd gone," His words were heavy, sad. I briefly glanced at the floor, feeling my eyes fill with tears. I blinked them away, reaching out and taking my brother's hand. "I know you. I know what you're like-- "
Addie had always said that I was most the most sensitive. That I felt things more strongly than other people-- and maybe that was true. But I knew that Archer felt things deeply too.
I knew what I was like too. I had the tendency to run from things when things got rough. I had the tendency to throw myself in the opposite direction, distract myself with little pills and the empty bottom of glasses and we all knew that.
My heart clenched.
I squeezed his hand, ignoring the text messages that were coming through on my phone. I'd later read them and find that they were all from Charlie, asking me what time to expect me back in Sumatra. I ignored the fact that my flight was set to leave in an hour and fifteen minutes. I ignored the fact that staying Seattle was going to be the worst decision I'd ever made-- and, as the CEO of bad decisions, that spoke lengths.
"Don't worry..." I said gently; I smiled as if everything in the world was perfectly fine. "I'm not going anywhere, Archie."
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