Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟰𝟵 silent witness

𝙓𝙇𝙄𝙓
SILENT WITNESS

──────

I DIDN'T TAKE sick days often.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd missed a day of work.

But today was different.

Someone was screaming.

It was a horrific sound. It was distant, slightly muffled but it was there. It was loud enough for me to pause, my skin crawling and my heart clenching.

I'd woken with an awful headache, my head pounding and body aching. When I'd first heard it, I was almost inclined to think that it was part of the ensuing migraine like whistling in my ears. But then I'd heard the banging of doors and Charlie muting the television in the next room. 

The screaming, the yelling and the mania outside in the hallway seemed to all be disconnected from the haziness in my head— I leant against the sink in the bathroom and blinked slowly:

Something was wrong.

Charlie was stood in front of the front door. He was shirtless and trying his best to look through the peephole, trying to gauge what was going on without throwing the door open. When I asked him what was going on, he just shrugged saying that his view was disturbed. 

I sighed, scooping my hair into a ponytail and slipping past him, managing to get into the hallway; Charlie was cautious— he held out a hand, grabbing my arm as I came across chaos. I came to a complete halt.

"What's going on?"

In front of me, Arizona was making a very determined beeline to Mark's apartment, her eyes wide and urgency plastered over her face. She didn't answer my question, just squeezed a suture kit in her hands and disappeared into the apartment next to mine. 

I exchanged a look with Charlie— the screaming was louder out here. It was clearer, bouncing through the building. It reminded me of the sort of shit we'd heard during our trauma cases: it made me flinch.

But I recognised that sort of cry. It was a familiar one of pain.

Oh.

As soon as I'd had that revelation, Callie appeared and confirmed my thoughts: "Sloan's having the baby."

Instead of overthinking anything, I just nodded. "What do you need us to do?"

"Don't worry—" She faltered, stuck in between the two apartments. "We've got this."

There seemed to be a storm in her eyes as she glanced towards where her girlfriend had disappeared off to. 

I opened my mouth to interject, to remind her that once upon a time I'd been chasing medical cases and performing surgeries like all of them. But something about the way she shook her head stopped the words from leaving my mouth.

Silently, my head jerked up and down in understanding. I watched as they slammed the door of Mark's apartment shut, muffling the sound of Sloan riding out her contractions. I stared at the barrier for a few moments, letting out a breath that I didn't even know that I was holding. 

Once I had processed everything, I turned to Charlie. He was looking at me with a softness in his eyes that almost made my heart tear. I patted his arm and retreated into our apartment. I turned up some Debussy so that we couldn't hear the sound of what was happening next door.

"You okay?"

I'd felt dizzy from the moment I'd stepped out of bed. 

My eyesight was sluggish and blurry. The few moments it took me to respond seemed to reaffirm a thought that was bouncing around his head.

"You need to go back to sleep," He pressed a hand to my cheek and I let out a breathy sigh. "Take a sick day."

It'd been a long time since I'd taken a day off from work. I also had a very sneaky suspicion that this little fun migraine was the result of a lot of stress. I was prone to them, they liked to pop up when my world was spinning so quickly. 

The only problem was that now, due to my little addict character label, I wasn't able to deny its existence with a pile of painkillers.

"I can't exactly sleep this off when our next-door neighbour's yelling the building down," I pointed out, rubbing my eyes and trying to focus on something. Charlie's face loomed in and out of my vision and I watched two of him shake his head. "Plus I don't think—"

"I'll call your boss."

My brain seemed to correct itself long enough to see the determination in his eyes. I could tell that there was no way that I was going to get out of this apartment and get to work. With one last look at Mark's door, I nodded, numbly wandering back into the living room. 

Charlie closed the door behind us; it didn't do much to muffle the noise, but I let out a quiet breath of relief.

I didn't take days off of work. I'd worked through my broken rib a couple of weeks ago and I'd worked through a lot of bumps and bruises over the years. I'd been forced out of my job when I'd been incapacitated. I'd been forced to stay home too many times to count— I didn't take sick days, they were forced on me and Charlie knew me well enough to know that I wasn't going to call it on my own.

With reluctance, I promised to sleep until I felt better. I lied down on the couch, eyes closing as Charlie perused through the radio stations on the television. I let him choose whatever one he fancied but he asked whether I'd prefer a classical channel, I just shrugged and said offhandedly that anything would do. 

Something to drain out the screaming and the chaos in my brain. I couldn't sleep in silence these days, I couldn't survive in quiet, maybe it was a good idea to sleep through someone giving birth.

In the end, Charlie chose Nancy Sinatra: Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down).

***

"What's happening?"

The world was spinning slightly, still. My head felt clogged. I felt squeamish and unsteady and as if I would fall at any moment— but I'd managed to turn up for work. Granted, it hadn't been willingly. When I said that I'd take the day off, I did not expect to be paged into the surgical wing about one of my patients. 

My sick day had turned into a hurried quick change. Charlie had made me promise that I'd only do one consultation and then immediately come home. I ended up staying longer than that. I walked into my office and ignored the pair of heels inside my door. 

I ate an apple and ignored my urge to puke up my breakfast. When I arrived in the surgical department, everyone seemed to be off— I approached a few people outside of the boardroom and frowned.

Owen was stood there, hand on his chin. He was staring through the slats of the boardroom, they all were. There was a cluster of staff, some surgical, some just technicians. Everyone was frowning, visibly unsettled by the presence that had descended in the department. 

The Head of Trauma glanced over at me, watching as I squinted through my glasses (my eyes had taken the executive decision to quit today and I didn't blame them) and attempted to figure out what people were worried about. 

He let out a long sigh— but I managed to piece things together before he even spoke. At that moment, the two lawyers who I'd become well acquainted during my very own tense boardroom meeting appeared and entered the room, shooting each of us wary looks.

"I think there's a legal issue," Owen said, brow furrowing further as the door shut tightly behind them and they twisted down the blinds. "The Chief's in there with a patient's family."

Petunia. That was what I thought first. 

My incoherent brain spun with scenarios: being caught out for blackmail was not something that I planned on today. 

For once in my life, I was actually thinking that it was better to have missed work. I wouldn't have been here to watch Petunia set fire to my whole life again. I'd committed something that I was pretty sure somewhere was a felony. 

I could only imagine the conversations that were going on behind those doors: Ah yes, so here are the legal documents that Elizabeth Forbes Montgomery used to blackmail my client, yes, as you'll see that was a fucking illegal move.

I wasn't the only person who seemed to jump to that conclusion.

"Is that—"

Mark was in civilian clothing. He was stood there, face contorted in concern and a very brief look of fear. He glanced at me as if I knew what was going on, and then did a double-take when he realised that I was wearing my reading glasses. 

In retrospect, the reading glasses didn't really do anything but I was too exhausted to remove them myself.

"It's a meeting," I said. 

I was fumbling slightly with my words, the migraine causing my brain to scramble itself into a mess.

"Petunia?" He said her name as if she was cursed. Idly, I wondered whether if you said her name three times she'd manifest right in front of us.

I didn't want it to be Petunia. Dom had said that she was handled and I'd believed him. I squinted again, trying to catch a glimpse of her through those blinds. I could imagine her sat inside there, one leg crossed over the other, chin tilted upwards as if she was smelling something bad. 

I hadn't met her husband but I was sure that all of her partners were the same— they were all bottoms, the lot of them, don't let Mark convince you otherwise. Her lawyers were probably flashy too, driving big unnecessary cars and wearing big unnecessary branded suits.

I really didn't want it to be Petunia. 

I didn't want to give her the satisfaction. I thought I'd scared her. 

The look I gave Mark as he continued to stare at me expectantly as if I held all of the answers in the universe, was a picture of anxiety. If it was Petunia (which it more than likely was) then he didn't fully understand what jeopardy I'd put us in. I hadn't just handed Dom enough information to get me in trouble, but I'd dragged Mark with me too.

I really didn't want to be right.

Owen took his time responding. Despite the fact that none of us could see anything, he continued to stare at the boardroom. Maybe, like me, he was trying to muster some surprise superpowers and stare into the belly of the beast. 

After a few moments, he let out a long breath, his arms dropping to his sides.

"Cristina mentioned something about a Gary Clark," He shrugged, showing us that he couldn't be sure. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough for me to realise that I wasn't going to die any time soon. I was safe. "Something... about a wrongful death suit against Derek?"

I exhaled sharply through my nose. Well shit. 

That wasn't just any lawsuit. The three of us were still there while the crowd began to thin. People were beginning to realise that everything was happening behind closed doors— was this what it had been like when I'd been sat in there? I exchanged a look with Mark, one that spelt secrets and a certain stilted bitch. When I looked away, I felt my lip curl in satisfaction. 

At least Dom had been right, I'd successful stomped out the weed that had been Petunia.

Still, two lawsuits in the span of a month wasn't good.

I never got to find out whether Owen knew anything more as he was immediately paged after this revelation. Soon, Mark and I were the only ones left. We stood there, facing the boardroom and privately reliving the experience of our own legal meeting. I could still remember the pressure of it, the hell of the few weeks I'd had as everything seemed to go to shit suddenly. 

First Charlie's near and fake death experience, then Lexie and then therapy and then the lawsuit and the— no wonder I was having a lot of migraines lately. I pressed my fingers to my forehead and massaged.

"You good?" Mark was watching me as I swayed very slightly on my feet. I kept my eyes closed and just hummed. "Migraine?"

"Hurts like a bitch." 

I didn't admit that I was in pain often. When I opened my eyes again, his eyebrows had raised and he looked as though I'd just said the most surprising thing in the world. 

"I'm supposed to be in bed right now, but Karev has a schizophrenic patient that needs a new diagnosis asap-" I winced as the sound of my own voice made the ground feel very, very unsteady. "I also really, really want to vomit."

"Shit," He said and there was a brief touch of concern in his voice. "That's not good," Then he paused. "I suppose it didn't help with Sloan this morning—"

I waved a very dismissive hand. "Silence is very overrated." I paused, lip quirking. "I suppose congrats is in order, Grandpa."

It was a long time since I'd seen Mark so happy. He puffed out his chest, flashing me a look of content. I watched as he assumed the role of the grandfather, something that I very honestly had never envisioned him as. 

Sure, I'd envisioned him being a father once or twice, but my mind had never gotten this far. I felt oddly outside of my body, as if I'd stumbled into a new dimension where my head hurts and the world spins too fast.

Shit, maybe I'm just having a stroke.

"It's a good day for the Sloans," He said simply. "It's not every day that my only kid will have a baby."

I pressed my lips together and decided not to say anything.

Only.

"You taken anything for that?" Mark asked when I felt my stomach roll. He mistook my sudden paleness for my migraine. I tilted my head in an enquiry but that made the thudding worse. He gestured to my head. "You used to have that migraine medication, right? Special painkillers?"

I'd had a lot of migraines in New York. I'd been working too hard, partying too much. It'd wiped me out completely. Mark was all too familiar with the way I'd fumble through my day, head too foggy to even make much sense of my surroundings. 

At one point, I'd been completely reliant on those meds. They'd both saved and ruined my life. Now, I was fighting through my day blindly, unable to fall back on anything but ibuprofen.

"Can't take it," I said, rubbing a hand over my face. "The whole addict thing...uh, it's..."

Realisation flickered over his face and my brain couldn't finish it's sentence.

"Ah shit, yeah."

Mark buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing his black shirt underneath a jacket. I recognised both pieces of clothing and for some reason, it made my heart squeeze inconceivably tight. 

He seemed to want to say something but whatever it was, he decided against it. We were left just staring at each other, silently standing with a sudden tension between us. I closed my eyes again, trying to get the flashing lights to leave my vision. 

When I opened them, I realised that Mark was gazing at my hand. I was wearing my engagement ring. It was the first time I'd worn it at work. It sparkled very dimly in the fluorescent, overhead lighting. 

It seemed to jolt him as if he hadn't been expecting it. There was a lack of happiness on his face when I looked back at him. Instead, he looked distracted.

"It's a good thing about Petunia..." I said awkwardly. 

I didn't know why I just left. I had a patient waiting and Charlie back home who had threatened to drag me back if I didn't come home before lunch. But something made me linger. Mark's head snapped up to meet mine, having been jostled out of his thoughts. 

I offered him an awkward smile. "I have a feeling that she won't be bothering you anymore."

He smiled, but the expression didn't meet his eyes. 

"I hope so."

I wanted to tell him that I'd sorted the Petunia problem for good, but that meant admitting that I'd used his legal documents to force her out of the picture. It felt dirty.

***

My patient was, apparently, not schizophrenic.

I struggled to read the papers in front of me and Alex Karev was surprisingly, very patient with me. He'd suggested a new diagnosis for Hayley, a teenage patient who had come in yesterday after trying to claw her own eyes out. 

They were about to run some tests, having sat down and spoken to Hayley and her family. I met his claims that Hayley had been misdiagnosed with scepticism. The facts were laid out before me: Hayley had a family history of schizophrenia, she experienced delusions and she had recently been diagnosed with mild aphasia during some maladaptive episodes. 

But Alex was determined, he had Arizona and Derek's replacement, Doctor Kher on board.

"Okay," I said, having to sit down following his long and impassioned speech. I looked up from Hayley's medical record and pushed my glasses up my nose. "I disagree with your assessment."

His face contorted. "You sound like Arizona."

"Her scans are clear," I reasoned, gesturing towards the recent set of tests he'd previously run. There was nothing to suggest any neurological issues. Her brain looked perfectly fine to me. From the way that Alex's jaw clenched, I could tell that Kher had probably agreed with me. I pointed to the areas that neurosurgery who have been concerned with. "There's nothing in the frontal lobe or the temporal-parietal region. Occipital lobe's clean, too."

"She's got hyperacusis, vertigo, tinnitus, nystagmus..."

I inhaled sharply. "She's a poor girl whose been through a lot." I cut him off and he just stared at me with defeat vaguely shining in his eyes. "Look, Karev, do you have any surgical diagnosis in mind?"

This was an urgent case. I had Katherine upstairs trying to help push through the wishes of Hayley's parents. They were terrified for her and doing their best to get her the help that she needed. 

For Katherine and I to fully commit Hayley to our department, we needed surgery to sign off on her, to conclude that there wasn't any reason that her symptoms were surgery related. Alex was the one person in Hayley's way. He was the one person who was stopping her from getting the treatment that her parents wanted for her. She'd been in this hospital for two days and had already threatened to end her life with a syringe full of Lorazepam. Alex had talked her down.

"I don't," He admitted, his shoulders falling. "But—"

"Okay," I interrupted him again, nodding. I shut the medical file and slid it across the desk to him. "Convince me."

"—I'll find something, I don't want you to give up on her this easily—"

He hadn't heard me.

"Karev."

"Look, this isn't right," I fell silent as he spoke over me. I was too dizzy for this. "I know crazy. I-I grew up with crazy. I dated crazy and I don't think this girl is crazy. Just give me some time."

"Alex."

This time, he let me speak.

"Okay," I smiled softly at him, but my muscles twitched with pain. I was beginning to feel queasy again. "You have time. Just please be as quick as you can."

"You believe me?" He sounded surprised.

"You're trying to help the patient," I said. "You believe in the patient. I can't fault you for that— you're doing your job. You're investigating her before she gets signed over to us. It's going to be a bitch to do the extension paperwork but..." I shrugged. "I believe you."

What I didn't believe, however, was how my day was turning out:

It didn't make sense.

Suddenly, it was almost lunch and I was texting Charlie to tell him that I was going to be another hour. 

I was waiting on Hayley's test results and waiting on whether or not I'd have to do the worlds largest mountain of paperwork. I found myself drifting around the Psychiatry department like a wanton ghost. I'd ditched all hopes of looking put together. 

I slugged around with a hunched back, in a pair of sneakers and with a coffee in my hand— but sometimes even the things that we love hurt us. I vomited a mouthful of caffeine into the staff toilets.

"You're a sorry sight."

Eli was stood outside the restroom. 

He was the first thing that I saw as I wandered into the corridor. A bright smile and a chipper pep in his step. I scowled at his enthusiasm. It was as if he'd swallowed sunshine and was experiencing a major high. He was too loud, too much— or maybe everything was loud today?

 I couldn't really tell. He had an apple in one hand and a paper bag in the other. When I grimaced at him, he just seemed to grin wider.

"Nice to see you too," was his very candid reply. It was then that it struck me that he had a job in this hospital and that he definitely didn't belong to this department.

"Don't you..." 

Slight aphasia was setting in. I completely forgot what I was saying and just waved my hands instead.

"Have a job?" Eli finished for me. I was completely convinced that he was inside my head. He let out a chuckle. "Oh yeah— but I got a call from Charlie, who is very concerned by the way and very, very dashing— and I've been persuaded to babysit you until you give up and go home. And before you ask, yes my patients will probably die because I gave them all to Hugh, who is not as good as me."

He was talking so much that it was hard to keep up. I just blinked at him, very lost.

He let out a sigh. "I'm here to look after you. Which, lucky for you, I do for a job." Then he stuck out his arm, holding out the bag. "Also, lucky for you again, your very good friend here works in an ER so he has all the anti-nausea medication your heart desires."

I blinked at him.

"Thank you Eli. Oh, you're so welcome Beth..." He vocalised for me because I wasn't sure whether I could even speak anymore. His impersonation of my voice was weirdly kind of on point. He held out an arm. "Okay, we're taking you back to your office. As of right now, I'm going..." Eli seemed to regret any agreements he'd made to Charlie. "I'm going to be your brain for today."

I couldn't vocalise the gratefulness in my chest, but I could take his arm and squeeze it. He smiled at that and proceeded to stroll with me back to my office, holding open doors for me and helping me incoherently navigate through the slight traffic in the hallways. 

All the while, I was struggling to organise my thoughts.

I hadn't had a migraine this bad since I'd been suffering withdrawal.

He set me down on the sofa and got me a glass of water, helping me take the medication. Once he was content that I was going to be okay, he tried to get me to sleep, telling me that he'd handle my pager and that I just needed to stop and lie down. If I'd have been able to speak I would have told him that I was perfectly capable of working— but my body wasn't on my side. 

I watched as Eli took my seat at my desk, picked up a magazine and began rifling through it. I just laid on my side, glaring at him from afar. I really didn't want to be stuck in my office all-day—

He didn't even look up from the magazine. "Don't give me that look."

I just glowered.

"This is an intervention," Eli even had the audacity to put his legs up on my desk. He leant back and let out a long breath. If I hadn't have known better I would've thought he was on vacation. "You're a workaholic and you've been working too hard— consider this your wake up call."

I couldn't have argued with him even if I wanted to.

Sometimes my body did this. Sometimes I overdid it a bit and I crashed. 

I flatlined for all intents and purposes. 

I burnt myself out. 

Eli was right, it was like a biological intervention. My brain decided to short circuit and stop me from truly hitting my limit. But he was wrong. I wasn't here because I wanted to be. I was here because I had to sign one teeny little form to help Hayley with whatever diagnosis Alex had found. I was here until Alex cracked the code. 

Of course, I was a workaholic at times— but I'd completely disconnected since arriving in Seattle. If Eli thought this was what overdoing it looked like, he should have witnessed the surgical intern Beth who'd used Adderall to keep herself awake for days in a row.

I tried to close my eyes and relax. It didn't help that I'd been staying up with Amy a lot and talking to her on the phone. It also didn't help that I'd been cancelling therapy appointments consecutively. It also didn't help that I hadn't been able to relax in silence for the last five years. My eyes opened and I stared at my stereo. 

Eli glanced up at me, looking between my strained expression and the speaker.

It was a fun side effect of addiction that I never even noticed anymore. I used to love quiet spaces, they were so rare in cities like New York. But now, silence just clogged my ears and made my brain spin and spin and spin until sleep was the last thing I could think of. I'd started sleeping to classical music during some of the really rough hours in Manhattan, but that music had slowly infected every part of my life. 

I didn't sleep with music here, Charlie wasn't a very quiet sleeper. We worked well together as his loud snoring and breathing seemed to settle the part of my brain that never seemed to settle.

As if he read my mind, Eli found my remote and lowered Chopin's nocturnes until it was an acceptable buzz. My glare softened, and I let out a long breath, taking off my glasses and resting my head against the wall.

But sleep wasn't on my agenda today.

The door to my office opened and Eli's eyes loomed over his magazine, staring at the person who entered. They hadn't bothered to knock. 

I was out of sight of the door, hidden behind the door; I just gazed at Eli as the nurse's eyebrows raised. I almost felt as though I was a high schooler again in detention. Eli was the teacher who was there to keep me in check, and now a random student had just waltzed into his classroom unannounced. Whoever it was paused, confused and disorientated.

"Where's Beth?"

It was Derek.

"She's on break," Eli didn't like Derek, I could tell. 

I wondered whether they'd ever worked together. It was a complete contrast to when we'd been running around the hospital trying to find an invisible man. He eyed my ex-brother-in-law, who happened to also be his boss, clearly choosing his words and avoiding glancing at me in the corner of the room.

"I need a consult," He sounded like he was panicking, but there was a cocktail of disorientation, medication and unsettled anger in my system that extinguished whatever concern that threatened to raise its dumb little head. I averted my eyes, massaging my eyes. "Do you know how long she'll be?"

Eli shrugged. "All of her patients have been rerouted to Doctor Chaudhry... if you need any more information check with one of the secretaries."

Derek didn't sound happy.

"Is she okay?"

There was a brief pause. I could've sworn that Eli scoffed. He risked a glance in my direction. "She will be if she gets to rest."

Unfortunately, Derek caught on. 

He closed the door, revealing my very sorry face. I gazed up at him, managing a rather bitter smile. Derek's brow furrowed, seeing that I was completely crumpled and dependant on the wall to keep me upright. My eyelids kept sticking together and it was a lot to keep them open. 

Before I even registered what was happening, Derek, being the only neurosurgeon in the room, flashed a light across my vision, checking my pupil reflex. I blinked wildly, focusing back on a frowning Derek. I had a blind spot that was right in the middle of his face. 

If I hadn't been in a lot of pain, I would've thought it was funny that he didn't have a nose.

"She's fine," Eli said brightly, "She's just got a migraine. Charlie said it happens sometimes so I'm babysitting her."

"No one thought to tell me that one of the main psych surgical consultants is off?" Derek said. He sounded incredulous. 

In the background, Eli rolled his eyes as if Derek was the most painful person to have a conversation with in the world— I met his gaze. Eli knew that I agreed with him without even saying anything. 

"Look— I'm in desperate need for some grief counselling," Derek sighed, "I have the husband of a deceased patient downstairs and I would really appreciate it if Beth could have just a single conversation with him—"

I stared at him. 

This had to have something to do with Derek's lawsuit. He was trying to get me to save his ass. 

I didn't know how I felt about that. I was very clearly impaired and unable to give any sessions— oh, the irony of him begging me to work despite not being in the right shape. 

Derek's eyes were fixed on me. He was pleading with me silently but I just stared at him blankly. He was expecting me to say something; I just opened my mouth and then closed it and shot a look in Eli's direction. 

Speaking was taking all of my energy and, if I wanted to continue glaring at the Chief of Surgery, I needed to preserve everything I had left.

"She's experiencing a little bit of aphasia," Eli pointed out. He was stood up now. I wondered whether he was going to show Derek the door. "Charming, really— unfortunately, as you, the neurosurgeon probably know... she's not going to be any help until she recovers. She's not in any shape to talk to any patients. If you have a problem with that, I'm sure Katherine Wyatt would love to take your complaint."

The look Derek shot the nurse was dirty. Usually, I didn't like having other people fighting my battles, but when it came to Eli, I decided that I didn't mind much. I was almost enjoying the show. My arms were tightly crossed over my chest and I just stared up at Derek as he stared back at me. 

"Like I said before, Mable Chaudry's taking all of the patients—"

"I need a grief counsellor," Derek reaffirmed.

"I'm sure there are counsellors to spare in this department—"

"There's just one," His eyes fell back on me again. 

I couldn't help him even I wanted to, which for the record I didn't really want to. I was still very mad and I was, indeed, very petty. But I wasn't going to be petty at the expense of a patient. I continued to glare at Derek as I reached out a hand for my jacket, signalling for Eli to grab it. He did so quickly and efficiently. 

"In fact, there's only one currently free counsellor in the whole city— which is Beth—"

I just looked down briefly to fish out my cell phone. I went through the contacts and selected the one I needed. Then, I turned the phone around and showed it to them both.

Derek was wrong, not all of the counsellors in Seattle were busy. If only he'd gotten his head out of his ass long enough to realise that. There was a brief pause as Derek took my phone from me, his brow creasing as he realised that he was wrong. Eli hovered over his shoulder, eyes widening as he read the contact information. 

He met my eye, delight blooming across his face and his mouth falling into a happy smile.

"Are we... done here?"

It took a lot for me to speak but it was worth it. My words were sloppy and it took me a good five seconds to complete my sentence. I sounded breathless and exhausted and Derek seemed to finally accept that he was being out of line. 

He glanced between me and the contact, his lips parting. Then, very slowly, he nodded his head. Satisfied, I closed my eyes and attempted to chill out, leaving Eli and Derek to have a very curt and polite exchange. 

Derek left with my cell phone clutched in his hands, assuring Eli that he'd return it once the phone call was over.

He paused before he left, face looming from behind the door. Derek looked sad and sorry all in one. "I hope you get better soon, Beth."

I didn't waste my breath on a thanks. I just watched him leave, Eli did too. He'd returned to his position behind my desk. I looked over at him, spying the wide and bemused smile on his face. What I could waste some energy on, however, was returning that smile. 

Although, I was sure that mine came off sloppy and disorientated. He nodded approvingly, picking up his magazine and letting out a laugh.

"I have to give you credit where credit is due," I'd never heard Eli sound so impressed. His eyes glittered as I let my head loll on my shoulder. "Charlie Perkins is one hell of a trump card."

***

My pager went off three times.

Every time, Eli would swear quietly and silence it without much regard for the message. A message he did read, however, was the text message that I received from Charlie. Derek hadn't even had the decency to bring my phone back himself, he'd sent Lexie to send it back (although, to be fair to her, I was impressed on how quickly she'd entered and exited a room and I'd almost not recognised her). 

Charlie had messaged me, telling me that he was coming into the hospital to talk to Derek's mystery patient and that he'd stop by to see me before he left. He'd gauged at this point, I was effectively being held against my will, specifically by my will to make sure that Hayley got placed wherever she needed to go as quickly as possible.

If I could get into bed and close my eyes with Charlie's arms around my waist... I would've been a very happy bunny.

The fourth time my pager went off, Eli threatened to throw it out of the door. 

But at that point, I'd been curious to see what it was about. He grimaced at the expression on my face, knowing exactly what I wanted.

"It's a page from the ER," He frowned, probably fully ready to go and yell at Daphne. "Apparently there's a patient who has PTSD from a recent shooting." 

He looked at me and I just shook my head sadly. I wasn't going to be much use, unfortunately. I couldn't form sentences let alone dive headfirst into trauma counselling. I cocked my head to the side, trying to remind Eli that Charlie would probably be perfectly happy to take any immediate cases. 

Luckily, Eli seemed to be a step ahead of me. "If Mable doesn't want the case I'll tell the secretary to ask Charlie."

I smiled.

It was weird to think that Charlie was in this hospital. 

I wondered whether he'd been given a little ID badge like Sam had when he'd been given security clearance. Derek must've talked Katherine into giving him privileges, right? 

I'm sure it was an exciting experience for him. As far as I knew, he hadn't worked in hospitals for a long, long time. He'd always gravitated to private and charity work, working out of clinics and avoiding the heavy, high-paced crowds of a hospital. 

This would be an adventure for him, that was sure.

I received a text message five minutes after the fourth page, Eli read the contact out loud ("It's Asshat") and he couldn't stop the laugh that fell through his lips. 

He knew exactly who that was: "Sloan says that he's got some leftover jello from his daughter's room if you want it." He quirked an eyebrow. "What a weird peace offering... you do love jello though."

I do.

"I..." I licked my lips. "I...would love... to eat something... without... vomiting."

"Yeah," Eli said, nodding at my response, "I would love that too actually, I'm pretty shit with vomit."

I rolled my eyes.

A laugh fell through my lips. It was a shame that my brain wasn't jumbled into alphabet soup, otherwise, I would have loved a little erasable whiteboard or something. 

I would have had great satisfaction communicating through my shitty handwriting. Instead, I was completely reliant on the stupefied muscles in my face. My jaw was starting to feel a little bit numb and I wasn't particularly looking forwards to the bell-palsy. I would have loved to write 'MAN UP' on a board and flip it around to him. 

It'd taken me way too much effort and concentration to find Charlie's name on my contact list... and he'd been favourited towards the top.

I yawned, arching back into the couch. I was pretty sure that I'd be able to scavenge a little bit of sleep at that moment. I seemed to be in a perfect position, my head wasn't throbbing as bad and I'd relieved pressure somehow on my tense muscles. But then— of course— I was jostled by the sound of my pager going off.

"Fuck," He said it loudly this time, lunging across the desk and snatching up the small device. Eli had a stormy look in his eye as he read the message. "Nurse in geriatrics needs a revision of OCD medication— should I tell them to fuck off?"

Very gently, I raised my head, shaking it from side to side.

His eyebrows rose. "You want me to respond to the page?"

Suddenly, Eli didn't look as confident anymore.

I nodded.

What patient?

"Eva Lucas." Eli was getting good at anticipating me.

I knew the patient he was talking about.

"I could just give this to Mable..." He pointed out but I shook my head. He looked disheartened. "Really?"

Another nod.

If I could speak I would have told him to perk his ideas up: Welcome to my life, Eli, you said you wanted to be my brain so let's do this.

Was it not a good idea to wrack my brain for medication information? Undoubtedly. Was it an even worse idea to try and charade all of this information to Eli while my brain was a bowl of jelly? Absolutely.

Eli logged onto the medical records and read all of the information to me. I took in a deep breath and I thought about it long and hard— once I was sure that I had it, Eli shot me a look as he dialled geriatrics on my phone. I held my breath as he waited for the nurse to answer. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass of water that Eli had recently refilled for me. Then he started talking.

"This is Elijah Lloyd responding to a page on behalf of Doctor Montgomery..."

There was a vein pulsating in his forehead. 

I'd never seen him so stressed, not even when his job had been on the line during the merger. He was clutching the edge of my desk tightly, so tightly that his knuckles paled.

"Yes... she's busy at the moment but I have the revised medication notes in front of me..." He glanced over at me, "I'd like to request a review by Doctor Chaudhry as soon as possible... Yes, just a very brief overview... make sure that Doctor Montgomery's on the right track..."

He did have the medication notes, but unfortunately, they were all in my head. 

Eva Lucas was on Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors but her current does wasn't working as it should. She needed a partial revision of her medication and I'd, in my migraine state, had completely forgotten to prepare for it. 

I pressed my lips together. I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to remember what I'd planned to prescribe.

"Yeah- SSRIs..."

It was weird, listening to Eli's phone voice. He sounded so polite and put together.

"Yeah... you're ready— great!"

He shot me a look that told me everything was not great. But he'd prepared. He'd written all of the medications available on a piece of paper and all of the doses too— 

He held up the sheet and gestured to each in turn. I gazed at him, waiting for him to reach the correct one. When I nodded, he was quick to recite the anti-depressant to the nurse.

"Okay, sorry it's taking so long. It's impossible to read her handwriting— she's written Paroxetine..."

I snorted. Eli was efficient in his nervous laughter.

"Yep," He waited for her to write it down. "Once a day..."

He looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. Another multi-choice question on the sheet: day or night. I gestured to the left.

"Morning."

Another pause. He pointed to the two divisions of Paroxetine and I gestured to the right.

"Paroxetine Mesylate— Pexeva, yes. For dosage, she's put 30—"

I cut him off, waving a hand. My eyes were wide in alarm and Eli looked as though he was about to have a heart attack.

Holy fuck we're not trying to kill her—Lower, Lower.

I pointed downwards.

What the fuck, he mouthed to me.

I continued to wave my arms aimlessly.

"Sorry," Eli said quickly, his eyes flashing with panic as I flailed my arms around. "Her two is really hard to read—" An unhinged laugh. "It's 20mgs."

That was a close call. He made flouncy, nervous small talk with the nurse as they finished off the prescription. Once the call was over, he let out a breath that seemed to deflate his whole body. 

He shoved the phone into the receiver with a vengeance and looked at me with panic still resonating across his face. 

I just gave him a subsided smile, toes twitching inside of my sneakers.

"Good job..." was all I said.

Eli looked as though he'd just had a slow-motion stroke. He opened his mouth and then closed it, leaning heavily back in the chair heavily. H

e ran a hand through his hair and I just watched with amusement. If he thought he was having a rough day, he should've tried having a brain full of Swiss cheese. 

There was a pause of classical music, illuminating the way he shook his head, trying to shake off his stress. His reply was delayed and he didn't have the same excuse as I did.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

***

It was two hours before Charlie came to visit.

He actually knocked on the door, unlike some people. Eli said 'Come in' with what I could only guess was a heavily suppressed superiority complex that was just waiting to break free. He regarded the opening door with, again, the suspicion of a headmaster sat in their office. I could only eye my desk with disdain. 

All of this authority was going to Eli's head and that really wasn't what he needed.

Eli very slightly reminded me of Mark. They both had completely insatiable egos.

"Hello," Charlie said quietly, appearing from behind the door and, much like Derek, completely bypassing me in the corner. 

What was different, however, was the warm reception he received: Eli seemed to herald the sight of him, giving him a crooked grin. I smiled too, my legs pressed against my chest and arms wrapped around my torso. Charlie had two coffees in a takeaway container from the cart in the plaza and what looked like a night bag over his shoulder. 

When he spotted me, he couldn't help but sigh. "What are we going to do with you?"

Unable to really do anything else, I just pursed my lips.

"I think she just said 'fuck you'," Eli chirped in the background. 

The two men watched me, gauging my reaction to see whether Eli was accurate. Apparently, Eli had been texting Charlie updates this whole time, filling him in on Eli's now discovered talent as a Beth whisperer. Charlie found it amusing. They waited for me to respond— I just rolled my eyes. 

"Well, that wasn't a no."

Eli received a completely different look.

"If I'm not mistaken..." Charlie walked towards me, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. Unable to repress his chuckle, he brushed some hair out of my face. "That look right there was a 'fuck you', Eli."

I grinned up at him. 

"Yeah, yeah," Eli said dismissively, "Personally, I think it's nice to have a bit of peace and quiet around here. I like non-verbal Beth so much so that when she starts talking again I don't think I want to be her friend anymore..."

I simply raised an eyebrow in his direction. He visibly faltered.

"You're going to kill me for that one, aren't you?"

I just smirked.

"I'm new to this whisperer thing," Charlie interjected, turning to dump his bag on my desk. "But I think that was a yes."

"Y'know, I'm going to challenge that one," Eli said, pointing a pen at the two of us. He'd spent the last hour doing a crossword puzzle, asking me yes or no answers about his guesses as if I was google search. "And you know what... Beth can't do anything about it."

Charlie chuckled.

I, on the other hand, just smiled bitterly, wasting my words irresponsibly.

"Fuck you..."

My fiancé's laughed got brighter and he jabbed a hand towards me as if to say now that's a fuck you. Eli, leaning back on the chair, just rolled his eyes, muttering something about how he was getting no thanks for babysitting me. The smile I sent towards him was fond and appreciative. Neither of us really wanted to be here. We were just stuck here until Alex Karev came to some mystery diagnosis. 

I still couldn't fully vocalise my thanks, so I just depended on making Eli's day a little bit easier. I scooted up on the couch, Charlie sitting beside me. He wrapped his arm around me and I leant into his chest. He had a badge clipped to the front of his shirt, it said 'Psychiatrist' in block capitals and had a very dazzled picture of him.

I shot Eli a look.

"Oh," He said, taken aback. "Now you want me to translate for you?" 

When I didn't reply, continuing to stare at him plainly, he just sniffed over dramatically. 

"The audacity— Fine." Eli picked up his pen and sighed. "Charlie, Beth wants to know how Derek's emergency patient is."

"Uh," Charlie cleared his throat. "He's not too good."

I felt sad. I'd done enough grief counselling to know that sometimes, people weren't able to cope with the weight of everything on top of them. There were so many ways they could pull through. There were so many different ways in which their hearts shook and shattered, so many different ways in which their eyes and hands tremor. 

There were many different ways in which the human body and the human brain coped with loss. I'd looked in depth at the pathological responses, picked apart theory on a PowerPoint slide and in counselling sessions, but despite everything, it was so different to experiencing it.

I'd only ever grieved my grandmother, but at that time I'd been too young to even comprehend what was going on.

"I'm hoping that if I can just get him to talk to me, he'll make some progress," Charlie itched the side of his nose and sighed, pulling me tighter to his chest, "He's having a very hard time and he's coping with anger rather than sadness... He's pushing the blame for wife's death directly onto Derek and the hospital. But, I get the feeling that he's going to refuse another session with me."

Charlie was good at his job. He was good at this. He genuinely cared about his patients and about their progress. I could tell in his eyes that he wanted to make sure that this guy was alright, he smiled sadly and hung his head at the thought of someone suffering so much. I just leant my head on his shoulder, unable to conjure the words to comfort them. 

I think people forgot that sometimes, in our line of work, we got affected by the patients that we took. I could just tell from the sag in Charlie's shoulders that his patient was overwhelmingly filled with anger and hatred, taking a toll on his bright spirit.

"It's weird working in a hospital again," Charlie changed the subject, trailing his eyes around my office. 

He'd never been in here before. Actually, to think of it, he'd barely spent any time at Seattle Grace Mercy West. He'd only had an overnight stay in Outpatients when he'd severed his finger, certainly never seeing the inside of the psychiatry department. 

"I have to say... I kinda like it—"

"Just wait until you're going through a hospital merger and all your friends lose their jobs," Eli said from over his magazine, forever the ray of sunshine. Simultaneously, the two of us just stared at him, not expecting the injection of pessimism. He just shrugged. "Not even Beth can tell what the new Chief is going to do."

"I spoke to Derek... he seems like he's having a hard time."

  It was Derek, he was always having a hard time. 

Eli and I exchanged a look following Charlie's words. We'd spoken to Derek too, but our conversation had not been delightful. Idly, I wondered how Charlie had found it, saving Derek Shepherd's ass. It was a phenomenon that I'd become well acquainted with, but for Charlie, this was his first time. I deeply hoped that this wasn't something that Charlie was going to marry into: needing to be on hand to bail Derek out every time he had a mental breakdown or made a mistake. 

"Oh, and I spoke to Mark too."

Charlie said it so offhandedly that I almost blacked out.

My eyes widened.

"You what?"

The words were like a gut instinct and Charlie's eyebrows rose at my response. Eli didn't need to translate this time, I was loud and clear. 

I sounded so panicked, almost as flighty as Eli had been on the phone. 

I met the nurses' eyes. He was quickly looking between us, looking as if he was excited for some drama to unfold. I shook my head at him, waiting for Charlie to speak. 

My fiancé just shrugged.

"Yeah, I saw him in the reception..."

He was talking as if he hadn't just had a conversation with my ex-boyfriend. Again, I looked over at Eli, bewildered and slightly dishevelled. Charlie didn't seem to realise what was going on. 

"I asked about Sloan... and uh, he said that she had her baby... that she's doing well. Apparently he's really excited to be a grandpa..."

I'd forgotten that Charlie was good with people. 

He'd struck up a very unlikely friendship with Sloan, one that completely mystified me. It had started from very brief conversations as he took the trash out. Charlie had offhandedly joked that he though Sloan had a crush on him. That mystified me even further. Sometimes he just did— sometimes I couldn't understand how Charlie could be so accepting with everything. I knew that I didn't have a very good track record as a calm and collected girlfriend, but this didn't make sense sometimes. 

If it had been Charlie who'd moved in next door to his long term ex-girlfriend I would have probably flipped- even more if I ended up in a position to befriend his ex-girlfriends long lost daughter. I was really struggling to comprehend how Charlie's mind worked sometimes.

This whole time, he'd been completely unbothered by Mark Sloan. He'd been completely unintimidated.

"Good," my brain shoved out before I could really think any further.

Charlie pressed a kiss to my cheek.

"I'd love to stay and chat... but Mable's given me a PTSD patient." I smiled sadly. 

This was the price I had to pay now that Charlie was picking up all of my work. It was going to be nice for him, though. He'd spent so long here in Seattle working for his brother just doing admin, and then a week or so unemployed. 

He was finally getting a chance to do exactly what he was trained to do. 

"As soon as you sign that form, call me— I'll take you home."

I nodded.

"Thanks for this, Eli," Charlie shot the nurse a perfect smile. It was the sort of smile that stopped hearts. "We owe you big time."

Eli lifted an eyebrow. "Maybe I'll just make Beth grovel for the fun of it."

My response was a very dry stare.

"I grabbed a blanket from the couch in your apartment," Charlie gestured to the bag he'd bought with him. "Please try to sleep, you might clear your head if you nap."

Another nod. He kissed my forehead.

"Love you."

I couldn't reply.

***

Turns out, a blanket had been the magic key.

I fell into a very nice nap, one that helped the spring cleaning in my brain. The couch in the corner of my office wasn't comfy by any means, it was actually pretty hard, but the exhaustion from all of the late nights and stress-induced insomnia helped me sail through an hour and a half of my day. 

Eventually, when I opened my eyes, I was able to see things without the telltale black spots in my vision. 

Clumsily, I sat upwards, drawing the blanket around me and stifling a large yawn. 

My first port of call, naturally, was my desk— the seat was empty, the magazine closed on the desk.

Getting to my feet was harder than I'd anticipated, and I had to brace myself as I did it. Immediately, I felt light-headed and dizzy, but I just clenched my teeth and walked towards my desk, leaving the blanket on a trail on the floor. 

My eyes weren't having a fun time focusing, but I managed to make out the letters on a note Eli had left: Gone for coffee, took your stupid pager.

His handwriting was shit, I made a mental note to make fun of him for it later. 

How's that for impossible to read?

I seemed to have good timing today, as soon as I'd flattened my hair and cleared my floor, there was a knock on my door. I hesitated before speaking, but I could read my thoughts now. 

I was no longer completely confounded by the voice in my head.

"Come in," I sounded hoarse.

The door opened, revealing a optimistic looking Alex. 

He was clutching a medical file in his hands and had this excited look in his eye that made me want to laugh. Of course, he'd found a diagnosis. He was very quick to race to my desk, slapping the papers down in front of me. As an afterthought, I grabbed my reading glasses and went to sit. There was something about his energy— it reminded me of Arizona. 

I eyed him oddly as I dropped down into my desk chair, pulling Hayley's medical papers towards me.

"So, what your verdict?" I asked, feeling very professional and not at all like the awful mess I'd been all day. 

Of course, I still felt like absolute crap— but that could be solved by a couple of ibuprofen and a nice long shower at home. Alex almost bounced on his feet, rubbing his hands together.

"Superior canal dehiscence," He said it with such confidence that I couldn't hide my surprise.

 Wow, that was one hell of a diagnosis. 

I looked through the evidence he'd compiled, flipping through the scans and the reports that he'd thrown together in the last three hours. I had to say, I was impressed. 

"It's the result of a small hole that developed in her inner ear. It's rare, and it's hard to diagnose."

"You've had your attendings look over this?"

"Robbins, Shepherd and Kher all agree," Alex really had done some impressive work. "I even had Sloan have a look at it as the ENT— he doesn't see any problems."

"The noise sensitivity... it's because Hayley could hear everything going on inside her body," I realised, looking at everything. In my peripheral, Alex nodded happily, relieved that I wasn't going to fight him on this one. I let out a low whistle. "And every sound outside was magnified. That's why she couldn't sleep or eat..."

"She's not schizophrenic," He concluded, eyes glistening.

I grinned, inclining my head. "She's not schizophrenic."

Wordlessly, I got out my pen and found the memo that I'd been waiting all afternoon to sign. I could feel his eyes on me as I signed on the dotted line, alongside Derek, Arizona and Mark's signatures. 

Compared to theirs, my signature looked messy. My hands were still slightly jittery— like that was an excuse anyway. 

Eli had been right without even realising it: my handwriting was awful. Despite this, I flashed Alex another delighted smile as I handed the file back to him.

"I believe this belongs to you."

He took it from me, nodding in thanks. I figured that he was about to turn on his heel and leave, but he didn't. There was a noticeable hesitation in him, something that stopped me from looking away. I frowned, not quite sure what was going through his head. A funny thought struck me: if only Eli was here to translate every little exasperated twitch or sigh.

"Thank you for giving me time." 

It was the first I'd ever gotten any degree of niceness from Alex Karev. I was taken off-guard. He seemed very genuine in his thanks.

"You're welcome," My reply was slow, but this time it wasn't because of my migraine.

"I also, uh," He cleared his throat, "I'm seeing Lexie now..."

Alex and Lexie were definitely a couple that I hadn't seen coming. I supposed that if I really tried, I could consider them to suit each other. But Lexie's doe-eyed innocence and Alex's hot-headed impulsiveness were not the mixture that I would have put together. 

Although, I guess that I'd always been pretty shitty at forecasting relationships; after all, I'd never seen Mark and my sister getting together and we all knew what happened there.

"Congrats," I couldn't exactly hide my distaste, despite really trying to appear neutral. 

I wasn't Lexie's biggest fan at the moment, not when she was still fighting Mark's battles for him and saying things that she really didn't need to say. I'd been doing a pretty good job at avoiding her, in true Beth fashion. I really didn't like the idea of having any semblance of a conversation with her. I knew that she didn't like me and I'd taken the executive decision to not like her either.

"Mer mentioned that you had a falling out or something..." 

Suddenly, Alex was uncomfortable. He massaged the back of his neck and averted his eyes to the name plaque on my desk. I kissed my teeth, falling out implied that it was a mutual decision. Lexie had taken it upon herself. 

"She mentioned that it was... maybe about Sloan or something? I don't know I—"

I wondered why he was bringing this up. 

I didn't take Alex as an insecure type; he'd been extremely confident when it came to his relationship with Izzie, he'd gone to the moon and the back for that girl— but I guess he'd run out of rocket ship fuel when she'd taken off. But when he briefly met my eyes, I didn't see an insecure man asking tenderly whether his girlfriend was hung up on her ex, I saw curiosity and discomfort. 

He wanted to know what was going on and was asking me for my side of the story— had Lexie spoken about me to him? Did he know everything she'd suddenly sprung up on me?

I tried to shrug that thought off. I didn't like it.

"Look, Alex," I'd had a lot of patience today but that was falling thin. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. "I understand that you've just gotten into a relationship with Lexie, but that whole situation is between me, Mark and Lexie. Honestly, it's really stupid and you shouldn't... you shouldn't really pay it any mind. What matters is that you and Lexie are happy— not what I'm getting yelled at about."

I expected him to rile up at me in Alex Karev fashion but he didn't. Instead, he just shrugged as if to say: fair enough. I watched him from my position on the desk, watching as he pressed his lips together and wondered whether this was his cue to leave the office. 

The longer I stared at him, the worse I felt. It was unfair to get all touchy on something that was completely out of his control. Just because he was dating Lexie, didn't mean that he had to fall off the bridges she'd burned.

"I'm sorry," I chewed on my bottom lip. "That was kind of bitchy— I've had a long day."

Alex inclined his head, "S'kay, sorry for keeping you here, I heard from Shepherd that you're supposed to be having a sick day."

I preferred Alex over Lexie. He'd been through a lot with Izzie He seemed like he was a very kind-hearted person. I smiled at him, nodding very faintly. I didn't harbour any anger at him for making me wait here all day for him, in fact, it kind of helped put everything into perspective for me. 

If I wanted to get married and wanted to work in a healthy lifestyle, I couldn't fall into my old pattern of doing everything all at one time. I couldn't risk burning out constantly, I couldn't rely on everyone around me to do my job for me— and I sure as hell couldn't rely on drugs.

"Meredith asked me to invite you to a party that she's having at her house," I raised an eyebrow, not exactly sure why the hell Meredith would be throwing a party. "Everyone's invited so... if you're feeling up to it, Meredith said that you and Charlie can come along— I think it's some... excuse to get drunk to be completely honest with you."

I smiled at him softly, "Okay, um, I'll talk to Charlie."

He nodded and turned to leave, but just before he made it out the door, I raised my voice.

"Hey?" Alex turned to face me, brow furrowed. "Paeds suits you, by the way— you'd be kick-ass surgeon with Arizona."

Again, I expected him to tell me to go screw myself, but he just looked very thoughtful as he closed the door behind him.

***

When Charlie met me in the plaza of the hospital, he was beaming from ear to ear. I spotted him from afar, watching as he leisurely strolled across the hospital with a pep in his step. Once he'd noticed me, he made an immediate beeline, lacing his fingers with mine and giving me a tight hug. I smiled at him, pleasantly surprised by his good mood. 

Those were hard to come by for all of us, the last time he'd had a smile this big I'd been proposing.

"Good day?" I enquired as he kissed the crown of my head. 

My voice still was pretty shaky but it was becoming less and less impossible to string sentences together. I was glad, sometimes in New York, a nasty migraine would have wiped me out for a day or two, leaving me a blurry mess in bed. When he drew backwards his eyes were glittering with delight.

"Oh, she talks!" He was teasing, "I was beginning to miss your voice."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes as if to say 'Tell that to Eli'.

Something I was sure he didn't miss, however, was my impulsiveness. As soon as there was room in the conversation, I brought up Meredith's party. At first, Charlie was sceptical, he pointed out that I hadn't been well and I just combated it with the fact that I'd been doing nothing all day and I felt lousy. 

I also felt a lot better, I managed to fit another nap in between Alex leaving my office and Charlie being ready to leave. He was very reluctant to go, but caved as soon as I started getting ready, telling him that he'd missed Derek's announcement dinner and couldn't afford to miss another social event. People were going to think we were pariahs.

So I ended up in Meredith's dining room, holding a glass of water, stood between Owen, Charlie and Derek as my ex-brother-in-law showed us housing plans.

A contrast to the mess I'd been during the day, I'd decided to put some effort into my appearance. I'd completely ditched my glasses and now stood there in heels, a cocktail dress (which I was pretty sure I'd stolen from Addison) and a very strained smile. 

Derek was talking and I had to pretend that I cared, standing there as Derek talked about how romantic it was for him to build Meredith a house. 

Ever so often, Charlie would shoot me a look as if to say, do you need me to build you a house? 

His arm was wrapped around my waist and my engagement ring was on my finger, I frowned and shook my head lightly. I didn't need a house.

"This whole wall will be windows... So we can take advantage of the view...."

When had Derek become so boring?

I glanced at my glass and realised that I really needed something stronger. Derek's construction talk was no cutting it tonight. Kissing Charlie on the cheek, I unravelled myself from his arms and went floating towards the kitchen, passing Callie and Mark on my way. I met Mark's eye as I passed, shoving my way into the kitchen with enthusiasm. 

He inclined his head to me but didn't say anything, a beer in his hand and a muscle jumping in his jaw. I didn't have the energy to smile. Inside the kitchen, there was a handful of catering staff plating some food. I danced around the staff members, beelining straight for the soft drinks and spending a few moments debating between lemonade or Diet Coke. 

Glancing to the side, I noticed that Cristina was hovering over the food by the door, eyes caught on every single plate that went to pass her.

"Napkin?" I asked, holding out one of the small paper squares stacked by the fridge.

If this was going to go like the merger mixer a few months back, Cristina was probably going to be very drunk by the time the night was over. 

She shot me a look, one which was dry and full of martinis. I recognised the look in her eye. But even so, she accepted the napkin, leaning forwards as more food was stacked onto plates.

"I'm going to get first dibs on all of the finger food before it gets eaten up by the animals," She used the napkin to hide a sandwich as it passed by her, tipsily swaying against the wall. I chuckled at her, watching as she struggled very slightly. 

Behind her, the door opened and Meredith walked in, looking as though she was not having the time of her life. Both of them were dressed up, looking as though they'd really hoped to have a good time tonight. But I could tell from the finger foods and the glum look on Meredith's face, that this wasn't going how she'd hoped.

"Alex says my party sucks," Meredith said, forfeiting a greeting. S

he looked between the two of us, waiting for either of us to challenge what she said. When she looked at me, I just lifted my Diet Coke to my mouth and pretended to be extremely busy. Admittedly, standing around and listening to Derek's bid to become the newest host of DIY SOS was not my idea of a fun time. 

Meanwhile, Cristina shrugged.

"It's getting kind of lame out there," She ate the sandwich, nodding as she rated how good it was, "This food... on the other hand... really good."

This felt different from the dinner they'd had. It felt too familiar: finger foods and small talk had been Addie's thing. 

I eyed Meredith, wondering whether it had been her idea to do this sort of thing, or whether it had been Derek. Of course, Derek didn't like caterers or small talk, or hosting or anything that Addie had liked really, but I would've had to be stupid to say that something hadn't rubbed off during their fourteen years of marriage. I twisted my head to the side, recognising more and more Addison Forbes Montgomery things. 

I felt bad for Meredith, it felt like an Upper East Side soiree in here.

"Technically, this is Derek's party," she admitted, letting out a long breath. She leant against the countertop and rubbed her forehead. "Alex was right— usually at parties, we drink beer and dance on tables— not eat finger food and listen to jazz music—"

"Good finger food," Cristina said, holding up her sandwich, "Great finger food."

I chuckled.

"Don't let this all deceive you," I gestured around to the food, waving a hand around. My engagement ring caught in the light, sparkling and catching Meredith's eye. "This is not Derek. Derek's idea of a party is scotch, fishing and Duran Duran..." I grimaced at the thought of it. "This, I think, is just Derek trying to live out some expectation of what he thinks the Chief of Surgery should be like. I take Richard as the jazz and wine guy."

Meredith nodded thoughtfully, but her attention fell onto different subjects. "How's the happy couple?"

I smiled, playing with my fingers, "Yeah, we're good."

"Congratulations on that ring," She said, nodding towards it, "I'm happy that you finally managed to sort everything out."

"Yeah," I repeated, looking down at the ring. It gleamed back, almost winking at me. "I am too."

"Damn," Cristina commented from afar, squinting at it my hand. "That's a big rock, you must have that guy whipped."

I just laughed. "I think so... beats me how."

"I think you Montgomery sisters are like some sort of sex demons from hell," Cristina's words made my eyebrows fly up my forehead, a surprised laugh falling out of my mouth. I exchanged a look with Meredith, wondering where the hell this had come from. Meredith just shrugged, pouring herself a glass of wine and looking as though she really wasn't planning on remembering this evening. "Don't give me that look Mer, you remember what it was like when Addison came to Seattle— she took Derek right out of your hands..."

I raised an eyebrow. I'd never realised that Addison and Derek had gotten back together.

Meredith didn't like the frown I gave her. Another shrug. "We weren't big fans of your sister..."

I didn't blame her.

"That makes two of us," I said.

"I think what Cristina means is that Addison turned up and she managed to convince Derek to try their marriage again, even though Derek and I were kind of seeing each other," Meredith sighed, and I realised how bitchy my sister really could be when she put her mind to it. "For ages, I was the dirty mistress and... I just kind of failed to understand how she could have both Derek and Mark at her beg and call at the same time. They both cared a lot about her..." She paused, shaking her head, "It sounds dumb—"

"It doesn't," I dismissed, "It sounds like exactly what I was asking myself when I decided to get the fuck out of my sister's life"

Behind us, Cristina was talking to a newly appeared Owen, completely unattached from the conversation we were having. I glanced through the door, catching sight of Mark and Callie as they spoke to each other, both of them looking a little downcast. They weren't enjoying the party either. Just the glance of Mark made a lump appear in my mouth. 

Meredith was gazing at her oven, appearing very interested in the thought of just turning away and legging it out of the garden door. The door swung shut and I cleared my throat.

"I kind of get it now..." Meredith began, glancing over at me as I debated whether it was worth turning up to this party. I raised an eyebrow. "The whole caring thing... you're a lot like Addison... you both so likeable when you need to be... It doesn't help that you both have stupid genetics. Beth, you're probably one of the funniest people I've ever met. You're both intelligent and have people in the palm of hands so quickly. I hated Addison for it, but I don't think I could ever hate you, you're too nice— It's easy for people to care for you."

I scoffed. "I think Mark would disagree."

"Really?" It was Meredith's turn to raise her eyebrows. "I'd argue that he's probably the spokesperson or... maybe even the CEO of the whole company."

I rolled my eyes.

"I love Charlie, a lot," was all that I said, feeling my chest tighten.

She tilted her head to the side, eyes glittering. "I never said anything about Charlie."

That was my cue to leave.

Outside, Charlie was stood beside Derek, chatting to him happily. 

Where Derek and Meredith weren't in their element, Charlie was. I approached him, handing him a beer that I'd grabbed for him on my last-minute exit from the kitchen. His arm resumed its placement on my hip and I leant against his shoulder, pretending to be the slightest bit interested in what Derek was saying— as I sipped on my drink and grabbed the odd snack from the passing food trays, I noticed that Meredith was looking at me from the kitchen door. 

I frowned at her.

"You okay?" 

Charlie had noticed how I tensed and the look on my face. I tore my eyes away from my kind-of-sister-in-law, experiencing the concern that appeared on his face. Immediately, I nodded, forcing a nonchalant smile and squeezing his shoulder.

"Yeah, just tired."

"We don't have to stay here for long," He reminded me. 

This whole party was my idea, the whole situation was my call. Charlie was constantly giving me the opportunity to choose things, to control what happened around us. I appreciated it. 

I kissed him, holding his chin. It was a short sweet one that had me feeling exhausted afterwards.

"I'm good."

"Yeah?" He had a small smile on his face.

Another nod. "Mhmm."

People were watching us as we turned back into Derek's little construction presentation. I had to give it to Derek, boring topic or not, he was very enthusiastic. I gazed down at the sketches and the graphs and found myself thinking about how much of a dick Derek had been lately. He was continuing oblivious, my motivation dwindling the longer I thought about everything that had happened in the past month or so. 

No matter what was happening, whenever I saw Derek I would just be reminded of Mark's words, of how he was so convinced that Derek had been the one who had ended my career— I believed him. I actually believed something that Mark had told me. Derek seemed to come to the end of his house talk and turned to the two of us, face bright with a lazy smile. I attempted to perk up, raising my head and pretending that playing nice was the last thing that I wanted to do.

"Sounds good," Charlie replied. He'd actually been listening. "I can't say that I'm a construction expert... but it looks like you've got everything figured out."

"I do, yeah," Derek ran a hand through his hair. "It's been a lot of work— but It'll definitely be worth it in the end..." Then he paused, looking between the two of us. "Maybe it'll be ready for your guy's wedding? You're welcome to use the view if you want, I reckon it'd be pretty cool to do vows behind the house—"

"Thanks for the offer," Charlie said at the exact time I said:

"We're good," I even scoffed into my drink. 

The two of them turned to look at me as I smiled bitterly, not feeling the vibe of tonight. Alex had been wrong, it wasn't the party that was lame, it was Derek. I glanced between them and Charlie's brow furrowed. I sighed, letting go of Charlie's shoulder. 

"I'm gonna go and get some air..."

"Beth..." 

That was Derek. He looked bewildered.

Dude, get the memo. 

I really didn't feel like playing nice tonight. I gave Charlie a stellar smile and turned back towards the kitchen, shaking my head when he asked if I wanted company. 

I just needed some space to gather myself and stop myself from yelling at Derek in the middle of his party. I didn't know Meredith's house that well, but I did know that there was a back deck out here somewhere. I found the door and unlatched it, smiling when I felt the cool air. It was pretty cold in the city today, and in the suburbs that translated to a light breeze. 

It was enough to raise some goosebumps on my arms, but not enough to convince me to go back inside. I took a few steps down into the garden, gazing up at the surprisingly clear sky. It was nice outside, the moon was big and gave me a long, knowing look. I repressed the need to flip it off.

The deck had a few steps leading to a respectable lawn, bathed in darkness and just illuminated by the moonlight overhead. It felt surreal, gently making my way down the deck and squinting through the night. I was experiencing some major deja vu. It felt like every time I'd had to bail out of one of Addison's parties, but this time I was doing this very sober and it was Derek I was trying to escape, not Addie. It was something that I'd done so many times, which in retrospect, must have shown that running away from things were probably written into my DNA. 

I wobbled my way across the deck and wished that I had a cigarette. It was one of the things that was missing, that and copious amounts of alcohol and—

"This garden's occupied." Mark. "There's already one swan song going on right now. 'Fraid we don't have room for yours."

I twisted around, squinting at the shape of him. 

He'd been stood beside the door the whole time, I'd walked past him and not even realised it. I couldn't see anything but the figure of him, eclipsed against the light coming out of the kitchen window. I hadn't even realised that Mark had left. It made me realise that I wasn't hyper-aware of him anymore, not like I'd been in New York. 

Back at Addie's parties, I'd been able to feel him in a room, be able to distinguish his gaze from other peoples. 

The thought made me feel accomplished.

I let out a breathy laugh. "Oh, believe me- mines just a tune, not even really a song."

He chuckled back to me, lifting his beer to his lips. 

Out here, the music inside was dull and almost distant. It was another distorted reality, not different to what I'd been stuck in all day. At that thought, I gently sat on one of the steps, massaging my forehead so vigorously that I was sure I'd wiped off a line of foundation. 

I heard his quiet footsteps approach me, but my back was turned away from him. My headache was still there, lingering behind the wall of opioid-free painkillers that I'd thrown at it.

"You feeling better?"

I nodded. "Yeah, just thinking I probably shouldn't have pushed my luck by coming tonight."

I had. I don't know why the hell I'd thought it would be a good idea. I was one more conversation with Derek away from throwing something. It had not been a good idea to turn up in his house. I continued to rub at my eyes, despite knowing that I was probably giving myself some major panda eyes. 

I let out a long breath and gazed down the garden, at the distant shapes of the city. Forget about the view from Derek's dream house, this was a pretty good one— it definitely could rival the sort of views we'd gotten from Addie and Derek's apartment. I looked to the side as Mark sat a few steps up from me, placing his hands on his legs and holding his beer tightly. 

I could smell his cologne and feel the gentle touch of his eyes— I flinched, something that was completely out of my control.

"Yeah," He said finally, his voice low. "Probably. I heard that you've had a long day..."

"Could say the same to you," I said, remembering that I wasn't the only person who'd had a tumultuous time. "How's Sloan?"

"She's good," Mark paused. When he spoke again, he seemed very hesitant and torn. "She wants to give up the baby for adoption."

So that was his swan song.

"Oh," I said, not really knowing what to say.

"Yeah," He said. I could hear the sadness in his voice, it made my heart clench. I took a long mouthful of my drink and suddenly felt bad for disturbing him. Mark had been right, this garden didn't need my petty angst. Here he was, having some major problems, while I was just spiralling over the petty drama that had happened over a decade ago. 

It really put things into perspective: there were more things to be pressed about.

"I'm sure it'll be for the best." I couldn't see his face. I couldn't see whether he agreed with me or not. He just sighed.

"Yeah."

I stared at the fence at the bottom of the garden, feeling more uncomfortable than I would have ever thought was possible. It was definitely one of those moments where I wondered why the hell I was even still in Seattle, why I hadn't just terminated my employment contract and gone back to Boston. But it was also one of those moments that made sense— sitting here, with the breeze, a beverage and discomfort, it felt familiar. 

It felt a lot like one of Addison's parties, back when I'd been unhappy but unproblematic and on the verge of falling in love with the man sat behind me. I dropped my eyes to my Diet Coke and chewed on my bottom lip.

"God," Mark breathed out. I tensed at the sound. He shuffled on the deck, the wood creaking. "This party sucks."

I smiled slightly. "Yeah, it doesn't, doesn't it?"

"It reminds me of one Addie's dumb things," He was thinking the same as me. There was a thoughtful quality to his tone as he spun the conversation into a different direction. Mark's voice was soft, contemplative. "I think Derek's caught up in the good old days when he was getting pummelled by a monster lawsuit. He's projecting Addison all over this party... Pretty sure it's even one of the catering companies she used to use... I'd recognise those tomato roll-ups anywhere—"

"It's weird," I said quickly, feeling my stomach roll. "It's fucking weird."

It was weird. It was weird to walk into a room and see Derek, Mark and Charlie all stood in the same space. It was weird to see Lexie in the corner with Alex, to see her glance over at Mark ever so often as if it was just a natural reflex that she couldn't shake off. It was weird to have Charlie and Derek talking to each other, to see worlds collide in such a weird way. 

It was weird to look at Derek and feel nothing but contempt, to realise that I was terrified of asking him the question because I was petrified that Mark would be right and that I'd caused so much unnecessary pain because of my own malicious paranoia. Mark had told me so many times that he hadn't done it. He'd screamed it. He'd yelled it. 

He'd said it with such desperation to get me to understand— I'd never believed him.

"Sometimes I miss it..." I didn't like the way Mark began. He trailed off, forcing me to realise what he was talking about. I straightened out of my hunch and put all of my energy into sitting still and staring up at the moon. "There were some good times. I realised that at the dinner when Derek told us he was chief— sitting around Addison's dinner table, watching the drama with Amy and... before things went to shit. It was good."

It had been good. It was what had kept me in a relationship with Mark for nearly six years. It was weird to think that too— the fact that we'd spent so much time together, given so much to each other, and I couldn't even bare to think about it. I had a hole in the middle of my chest that was constantly trying to heal. It was tender and it was painful and it only ever felt okay when I thought about Charlie and the life that we could have together. 

Charlie reminded me that I hadn't wasted all of my good, loving years on a man who had thrown me aside and upgraded me for a better model. Mark, on the other hand, just reminded me of how intensely and cruelly I'd loved.

"We fucked up."

He seemed to stall at my words. 

There was a brief pause in which everything seemed to continue as normal. The music kept playing and the world kept spinning. The muffled sound of conversation continued to go onwards, the moon kept shining and the wind kept tousling my hair. But Mark was completely still, his breath suspended as I said those three words. 

It was a suspension of disbelief, the moment where I'd acknowledged that we'd both fucked up, that I hadn't been faultless in a relationship that had been full of my cruelty and inability to care as well. This time, I could feel his eyes on me. They burned, they hurt. They seemed to grill right deep into me and leave my heart aching.

We.

"We did." His voice was delicate, vulnerable. For once, I didn't fear it. My muscles knotted but the world didn't end and the sky didn't fall. The moon continued to stare back at me. "We were practically kids—"

I swallowed, "No, kids don't ruin the people that they love."

"We were young," He corrected himself.

I dropped my head to stare at my lap. My hand was shaking very slightly. I had a weird tone as well, Mark wasn't the only one who was unbalanced. My whole body was aching, but this was different to a migraine. 

This was the creeping feeling of a conversation that had been five years in the making, a moment that I'd dodged and Mark had thrown bullshit truces in front of. We were both scared of this conversation, it'd become all too clear in therapy. Twenty years on from when we'd first met, we were still scared of the vulnerability that we'd needed to be happy together.

"I never apologised," He seemed to breathe every word. "I never apologised for sleeping with Addie."

Very slowly, I shook my head.

"You never needed to."

I'd never expected an apology. 

That wasn't how Mark Sloan worked. He didn't apologise for these sort of things. I didn't expect it. I didn't expect anything from Mark anymore. I'd taken so much from him over the years that I'd convinced myself a long time ago that there was nothing left.

"No, I do," Mark insisted breathlessly. There was the sensation of a man who was desperate to take a weight off of his chest. I could envision him "It was fucked move on my part—"

"She came to you," I said, feeling my skin crawl with the reality of everything. We were talking. We were talking and we were listening. "She was... double the person I was at that point. I was...a shell of a person. I don't blame you... she's probably a better fuck."

There was a pause.

"Not by a long shot."

I snorted. "Thanks."

"Despite everything, Beth, despite running to Seattle for her... and competing against Derek for her... She was never you."

Those words felt raw. It felt as though I was one of Mark's burn victims. He was sat there, peeling off my skin and staring at what was below. I felt stuck. 

My skin was burning and Mark was stood behind me, ready to slice me in two and wander through my epidermis. I shifted uncomfortably, pressing my arms tighter to my chest. The loss of his familiar deadpan made my heart thump painfully against my chest, trying to fight through the hole that I'd spent the last five years tirelessly trying to suture shut.

"Still," He said, "I knew it would hurt you... I knew that all of those flings and shit would hurt you— and I still did it. When you asked me in that shrink's office— why Addison out of everyone, it was because she was there and because it would destroy you."

I could feel his every word. Suddenly, I was transported back to New York. I felt all of those things that I'd felt, the mortification, the malicious need to hold Mark so tightly and never let go. I'd been a toxic person. 

I'd leeched and leeched until he'd been desperate to escape. We'd never been abusive to each other, our words had always been empty and driven by the stress of a world that was too loud and moving too quick. 

He'd hated my addictions, he'd hated that he wasn't the most important thing in my life. He'd spent five years competing with my career and a bottle of red wine for my attention.

"You wanted my attention," I supposed that I'd always known why Mark had gone for Addison out of everyone, "You want a reaction—"

"I wanted to know that you... you still cared," Mark admitted.

I felt myself hit an all-time low.

"I did."

Mark took a while before replying.

"I know."

I couldn't decipher the feeling in my chest. But I knew that it was something that was begging to be vocalised. It boiled at the back of my throat like vomit, making my head spin and my fingertips numb. 

I clutched my drink with the determination of a girl who was about to put years of therapy into play.

"I'm sorry."

Those words were harder to say than I thought.

I had Mark's full attention.

"I was a terrible person. Lexie was right, you were right. I treated you unfairly. I should have never, ever-" I broke off, feeling as hopeless as I had been when my brain had been unable to translate thoughts into words. It was harder now, even though my mind was healed. Words were still failing me. "You didn't sign up for any of that... I expected too much from you."

"You expected love," Mark said, his voice catching at the back of his throat. I tensed completely, finding it really hard to not burst into tears. "You expected... someone to depend on and I... failed."

For some reason, I chuckled. "If it makes you feel better, I'm sure becoming a shell of a human completely reliant on drugs to compute means that I basically failed at life."

That was something that hurt to revisit. Mark had got the best of me and the worst. There were things that not even Derek or Charlie had seen, and yet I'd expected Mark to tackle it. I'd had to compete with things too. The rising pressure of having a boyfriend who was constantly being wanted by everyone. 

He'd been in the crux of his career when I'd left, he'd been on a rollercoaster when we'd started. I hadn't been able to keep up. We'd both worked so hard on our careers and we'd lost each other in the process.

"I'm glad you're better," A tear fell at his words. It was the only one which would leave my tear ducts that night; the traitorous drop of moisture fell and I closed my eyes. If I closed them tight enough, I could feel the warmth from the sun. "I'm relieved that at least one of us managed to make something out of the last couple of years—"

"I had to do it," I said. It was my way of saying, I had to leave New York behind because I was convinced that it would kill me. But I got the feeling that Mark didn't expect an apology for me leaving, just in the way that I didn't expect him to apologise for Addison.

"I know," He said quietly. "And I went after Addison instead of... instead of you."

"It sounds fucked," I smiled at the words I was about to say. "But I'm glad."

I couldn't tell how he received that. But I was glad. If Mark had turned up, if he'd somehow found me in Canada, I would have probably lost my mind. The distance between us had cleared my head, let me make hard decisions and big life changes. Running away, it turns out, was the only thing that I didn't regret about that year. 

It was at that revelation that I decided to turn my head. I looked up at him, at the figure behind me with his lowered head and big sad eyes— I gave him a watery smile. He was looking down at me, the moon illuminating the way that he watching my every moment. He looked at me as if he'd never wanted me to leave New York, that he'd wanted me to stay and work things out. It made me sad.

"I was furious with Lexie," He said quietly, not ever taking his eyes off of mine. "When you told me about how she'd... aired all of that stuff. I talked to her about it. She doesn't need to fight my battles... First her and then Petunia— that was fucked. But I mean it when I say that I never meant to make you out to be the bad guy.."

"She's a great girl," I told him. She was capable of so much more love than I had been. She was capable of kindness. "I might hate her right now... but she wasn't wrong. She cared a lot about you. I think she was scared that... that she'd never had you in the first place."

Mark let out a breath. "I was distracted."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I scrunched up my nose, breathing heavily through my nose. "I didn't mean to... hurricane my way through this hospital."

He chuckled, but it was slightly choked as if I wasn't the only one who was emotional. I studied his face, watching as his shoulders seemed to fall. I wasn't the only one who was tense, who was uncomfortable and had avoided this. 

It was a reminder that this whole time, there had been two people sifting through the ruins of this relationship. I'd never been alone.

"We can blame Addison for that one," He joked.

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding, "Yeah— I like that idea."

It felt weird to think of Mark and me as a collective. 

We hadn't been Mark and Beth in years, and yet here we were, sat side by side underneath a starry sky. Mark recognised it too; the uncertainty of what this meant now. We'd apologised, we'd finally allowed the other person to breath. The wound on my chest felt tender and raw as if I'd just ripped it open and allowed myself to bleed out across the deck. 

It was as if I'd just let Mark drive a bullet into my chest. But, this time, unlike so many times before, we weren't leaving each other to die.

"Fucking Addison," Mark said, suddenly. 

He said it with exhaustion as if he could pinpoint every problem in the last five years to her. But that was an exaggeration, we both knew that I'd been more problematic than she had, still, it was nice to pretend. I met his eye, eyebrows raised and lips in a perturbed smile. 

Collectively, laughter gathered between us, Mark leaning back and shaking his head, taking a long mouthful of beer.

"You did," I said, finding it easy to deadpan. "You did fuck her, yeah."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head with a smile that I vaguely identified as fond. It made me smile back.

"I'm never going to live that one down am I?"

I shook my head, "I don't think so, I'm too bitter, sorry." I laughed at the end, feeling my heart fill with warmth. "You're welcome to... I don't know? Call me a slut if you want? A whore? Berate me for being a workaholic drug addict..."

Again, Mark rolled his eyes. He was grinning at me. 

He hadn't grinned at me in that way in years. I smiled back. 

It felt as though I was able to breathe again as if I'd been holding my breath for the last decade. The suspense had killed me inside. It was nice, I liked not being constantly on edge. There was the feeling that whatever had happened between us had healed now. That we'd both said what we needed to say. I looked away from Mark and back over towards the house, to the same place I'd stayed in when I'd arrived in Seattle. 

It hadn't changed, but so much had.

"Charlie's a great guy," As soon as I'd looked away, I looked back. 

Mark's gaze changed slightly. He had a different expression on his face, one that made my smile fade slightly. The atmosphere shifted very slightly at the mention on my fiancé. My ring finger suddenly felt really heavy. Mark was staring at it. But then his blue, crystalline eyes met mine again and he offered me a small smile. 

"I'm glad... that you've found someone."

It seemed genuine, but also a little sad. I was sad too. 

There had been many times where I'd considered Mark and Beth endgame, and admittedly, proposing to Charlie had felt, in some way like a betrayal of that. I'd betrayed little bug-eyed New York Beth, the one before all of the drugs and the drinking, who had turned to this man with all the conviction in her heart and loved him so selfishly. But this was better. 

Charlie was better. There wasn't doubt in my mind that this Charlie, the one who was stood inside talking to Derek over housing plans, eclipsed anything that Mark could offer me now.

There wasn't space for us— and not just in this garden either.

"Thank you."

"I might talk to him about something other than my kid," He said, loosening up and appearing nonchalant. I tilted my head back, raising my eyebrows.

"Will you now?" I questioned, the idea of it not causing me as much fear as it had earlier.

"Yeah," Mark said, nodding, amusement glittering in his eyes. "Got any pointers? Any conversation topics you recommend?"

I shrugged.

"I don't know," Then I remembered a joke Charlie had cracked at his dinner all that time ago. "Maybe... bond over your taste in women or something?"

This time, Mark laughed. 

He laughed so loudly that it echoed around the empty garden and reverbed deep in my ears. It was a nice sound. I hadn't heard in such a long time. It reminded me of how we'd had really good moments, how we'd joke and been so comfortable with each other. I wasn't the only person who noticed: He seemed startled at the sound of it, forgetting how quiet it was around us. It translated into the widening of his eyes. 

He looked at me with alarm. I chuckled.

"Fuck, it's so quiet out here."

It was. It was as if the whole world had gone to sleep. I thought of how I'd suffered in the sound of silence for so many years, relying on music to fill the gaps and keep my brain occupied. But here, it felt natural. I didn't hate it as much as I thought I would. This truly was some sort of different dimension, one in which I didn't want to make any noises, one where I didn't need Chopin's Nocturnes to act as background noise.

It was the calm in the middle of a hurricane.

I gave him a secretive smile.

"It is."

***

Later, in the evening, I kissed Charlie on this same deck, running my hands over his face and trying my best to commit a comfortable silence to my memory. I couldn't stop smiling. He was slightly drunk but he still held onto me tightly, as if he would never let me go.

He quirked an eyebrow as I squeezed him tight. I didn't want to let him go either.

"You good?"

I smiled, nodding. I could answer his question with true honesty. He didn't need anyone to translate the happiness that beamed through my body, the relief and the feeling that I'd managed to move forwards.

"I'm great."