𝙓𝙓.
HEROES & HERETICS
──────
NEW YORK
ADDISON MONTGOMERY-SHEPHERD was delusional, I was sure of it.
First thing in the morning, she'd phoned me, her voice thick with excitement as she declared to me that this evening she was throwing a New Years Eve party with the help of one of her friends. The mention of this particular friends name, Petunia, was one that I didn't recognise.
Whoever it was, she was 'Addison's best friend' and she was the reason why Addison was impulsively throwing a New Years party and had to organise it with only hours to spare.
New Year's Eve was quite possibly my least favourite evening of the year.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the last few months had gone so quickly... Or that my studies had gotten cutthroat, I was on the cusp of a big breakthrough and I was still extremely alone and single, but this particular new year was not something I was looking forward to.
New Year's Eve back home was all about going out to some nice restaurant, dressing up fancy and spending the whole time watching what you said and spending the whole evening with the weight of heavy judgement from your parents on your shoulders.
Here, New Year's Eve was compiled by a series of events—as I'd come to learn from the last four years we'd been here.
The first thing was pre-drinks at Addison's, where she'd insist on perusing through the events of the last year, all while cracking open some ancient bottle of wine and playing her good records.
The second thing was a party, usually at some sort of reception that Derek had gotten us into or where Addison had befriended the host.
Third, was the part that Amy prioritised—the part where we ended up in the middle of Central Park or whatever other parts of Manhattan (not Times Square, never Times Square) completely shit-faced, ringing in January.
This year, Addison wanted to do it differently. This year, she wanted to play hostess, host a bunch of friends at her apartment, with Petunia... whoever Petunia was.
As I processed what she was telling me, I couldn't help but wonder whether Derek knew what his wife was doing while he was in surgery.
He had a big surgery today and I'd barely even just gotten off the phone talking to him about it-- while he was saving lives and changing them at the same time, Addison was listing off a bunch of things she needed to complete in between her consultations and surgeries.
"And why are you telling me this?" I questioned hoarsely, walking down a busy New York street, bundled against the winter chill.
The scarf that I had tight around practically every inch of my torso slightly muffled my words as I clutched a coffee to my chest. My little phone was pressed against my ear and I was avoiding the icy wind as I dipped in between busy heads and newspaper stands.
"Because I need someone to help me!" was my older sisters reply; I sighed loudly, standing at the side of the road so I could cross to the nearest subway station. I briefly pinched the bridge of my nose and even on the other side of the city, Addison could tell that I was exasperated with her. "Look, c'mon, you've been to brunches with her before and I can't do this all by myself—"
"Then why do it at all?"
Addison was stumped at that.
As I reached the subway, passed my ticket through the gate (I pressed my phone to my shoulder with my cheek and awkwardly slammed it in much to the amusement of the attendant) and began my daily commute across the city towards the hospital that I was interning at, there was static across the phone. I rolled my eyes, moving with the flow of traffic as I joined the hundreds of people that used the Manhattan-bound subway every day.
Finally, when I reached my platform, a sigh filled the line. "Derek's being weird."
I barely batted an eyelash at that; of course, he was, that was the Addison Montgomery code. Whenever something went wrong in her perfect little life, she threw herself into something. Back in high school, with the desolation of our parent's marriage, it had been her education.
But here, Addison was flying face forwards into a budding career as an event planner.
And this was the third event she'd hosted this month.
"Derek's always weird," I said back to her, almost indifferently.
Over the last three years, in which Addison and Derek had been married, I'd grown to notice things about Derek that Addison possibly didn't. He, like Addie, liked to throw himself to things, but he didn't just do it when he was distressed.
He was consumed by his work, twenty-four hours, seven days a week. It was almost a part of him, he was always putting in overtime and dedicating himself to post-ops, case studies and the odd drug trial, even.
Derek was always weird because that's what Derek was. Weird.
"Yeah, I know I-"
"You don't know what you're doing," I interjected, knowing exactly what she was going to say next. "You don't know what you're doing so you're throwing a sudden party with Rose-"
"It's Petunia."
"They're both flowers," I grumbled, standing back as I received a face full of hot air from an oncoming train. "Tomato, tomato."
"No it's Petunia," She put extra stress on the name, as if that was going to mean something to me. If she'd been standing in front of me, Addison would have been scowling at the blank look that rippled across my face. "Petunia Vanderbilt the girl that I went to college with—she's the one that was married to Nathaniel, the dentist and got divorced just before my wedding-" Addison paused. "The one that made out with Mark at my rehearsal."
"Ah," I humoured her briefly, once again rolling my eyes. Sarcasm was thick in my voice as I adopted a more brash tone. "I remember the exact girl."
I bit my tongue about commenting about how she reminded me of the sort of stilted ex-wives you'd find at Upper East Side brunches- after all, I'd been that girl with Mark at her renewals. Also, second-wave feminism was inspiring me to stop being so bitter. Yet, Addison still sensed the dislike in my tone.
"Beth-"
"Don't worry Addie, I don't remember her. You know me, I'm terrible with names."
I actually wasn't terrible at names, I could name a face from when I was in diapers (not literally, but kind of). It was just that Addison had boring friends and her boring friends meant boring conversations and, in boring conversations, my brain turned off.
I could tell Addison wasn't happy with me as she exhaled loudly down the line.
"Please do this for me." When I didn't reply with some sort of obscenity, Addison must have taken it as a yes. "Thank you, I'll buy you a thousand cups of coffee and I'll meet you at lunch to talk stuff out—" There was another pregnant pause on the line before Addison's voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "Are you sleeping with Mark again?"
In the middle of boarding a train, I choked on my hot coffee.
People around me turned to watch me scald practically every inch of my throat, mouth, tongue and probably eyeballs from the way that I momentarily flailed. Amongst refraining from screaming profanities (a parent and their kids watched sharply from a few seats down) and hopping about, I almost dropped the phone in the gap in between the train and the platform.
I was very nearly bowled over by the oncoming crowd of commuters and just about managed to scramble into a seat, severely stinging from the harsh liquid.
My movements were jaunty as I attempted to clean myself up, wiping the coffee from my chin and dabbing at my scarf with my sleeve.
Scowling at my own misfortune, I avoided the eyes of the people surrounding me and slammed the phone back against my ear, ready to unleash hell onto my unsuspecting sister. Or maybe she did expect it, as she hadn't hung up and instead was sat there patiently, waiting for my response.
"Addie what the fu-"
Children. There were children here.
"What the heck?"
"Well, I mean..."
Addison was talking in a low secretive gossipy sort of tone which made me think that someone of great interest was stood not too far away from her. I could almost picture it—Addison sat at the nurses station in her department, peering over the top of it at Mark as he exchanged charts with one of the attendants.
"I was talking to Nicole-"
Whenever anyone began their sentences with "I was talking to Nicole" I knew that it was going to be a wild ride from then out. Nicole, the scrub nurse in the OBGYN department was a notorious gossip and was admittedly reliable for the latest gossip on what was happening in the personal lives of my colleagues. Hell, she'd told me that Addie was engaged before Addie had. She was extremely effective as a source of dirt and scandals.
But I knew that whatever Addison had to say would not delight me like Nicole's usual drama updates.
"And she mentioned that Mark hasn't really been... you know..."
"Whoring around?" I asked serenely, my eyebrow bouncing as Addison inhaled sharply, not quite anticipating my answer.
"Well yes." I could picture the way that Addison's brow folded as she listened intently to my words. "So are you guys together or what?"
"I've barely had a conversation with Mark since that one time he turned up at my apartment and told me that he'd rather become a full-time prostitute than be in a relationship..." It was the truth. A whole year had passed and I still thought about that night maybe too frequently for comfort. "I've only seen him briefly when I go clubbing with Amy out of the blue and when Derek wants to do something—I'm not seeing Mark."
There was a brief moment filled with static, as Addison let the air crackle between us. She seemed to want to say something but hesitated.
I just stared humourlessly at the poster for some Broadway show in front of me, feeling my shoulders ache and my eyes sting from a sleepless night.
"That's great," Addison said after a while. I just let out an awkward sort of laugh, the breathy and distorted sort of laugh that contradicted so many unspoken things. "How did your last date go, the one with Gareth?"
I sucked in a breath; Addison had taken to setting me up on blind dates, all of which were interesting, to say the least. This was my fifth and god knows why I was still allowing her to rope me into them.
So far, I'd been unsuccessful in finding anything other Upper East Side pretty boys and men who clearly weren't taught self-respect or common courtesy as a child. My last date had been a 'fancy evening' with Gareth, a law student that had the same temperament as a pubescent girl who'd just received her period for the first time.
"It was great."
I had to stop doing this, lying through my teeth about all of these dates so a) Addison wouldn't feel horrible and b) she wouldn't think that I was now simply incapable of dating and was slowly falling into a limbo of loneliness. As far as Addison knew, I was enjoying myself but found the whole prospect of finding a lasting connection difficult.
Little did she know, that in reality I was seriously debating whether to give up and dedicated my whole life to becoming the most tragic and whacky crazy cat lady the world had ever seen.
"Really?" Addison asked earnestly although the hesitation still lingered in her voice. I hummed lightly as I recognised my stop. "I got a call from Gareth to tell you that he's not interested in another date so..." As I left the subway car, I subtly fist-pumped the air. "What went wrong?"
"I don't know," I replied innocently. "Maybe he wasn't too interested after all..."
Of course, I knew what went wrong. Gareth was a little bitch and refused to make any interesting conversation. He'd had me fishing for conversation topics and I'd spent the whole evening drinking cheap wine and listening to him complain about his landlord.
Clearly, the person who invented the term ice-breaker hadn't met Gareth. This guy needed TNT, not a flimsy game of human bingo.
"That's a shame." Such a shame. "I was hoping you could invite him to the party tonight. I'm trying to make an impromptu guest list. Are you sure you don't want to bring a date?"
"Addie, it's 10 am on New Year's Eve." My eyes glazed over the large clock in the centre of Grand Central station as I hustled across the room and towards the exit. "You should have sorted this out a month or even a week in advance, everyone already has plans—"
"The guest list already has thirty-three people." I was pretty shocked to say the least. I didn't even think I had thirty-three friends. Maybe twenty at a push, but not thirty. "I've got some of Derek's friends coming, a people from work and Petunia's managed to invite most of our shared friend group."
Fantastic.
I felt my chest grow tight and I sucked in a long breath, knowing that I was going to eventually regret helping Addison somewhere down the line. As I stuffed my train ticket into the barrier and hitched my bag further up my shoulder, I took a brief moment to inhale a lungful of dirty, central Manhattan air.
"Fine." My voice was reluctant, clearly, "But I'm not doing any menial, stupid things, Daffodile can do that-" ("Petunia") "I can pick up some drinks and food on my way back from Archers apartment. I don't think you can get a fancy caterer on such a short notice--" Addison, this time, didn't interject and I presumed that I was correct. "Cocktail weenies and onion rings will have to do."
"Thank you." Addison breathed out, sounding as grateful as I'd expected.
Despite my irritation and my deep sense of despair, my lips turned upwards at the corners. I knew that already, Addison was struggling with her relationship with Derek and that their Honeymoon phase had fizzled out rather melodramatically.
I knew that they'd be fine within a month or so, when Derek's workload thinned out and we'd all be able to go on a pre-planned vacation to the Hamptons, that Addison had organised ages ago.
If this helped Addison cope, I'd do it for her, because she didn't deserve to suffer in silence.
As soon as I hung up, I realised that I wouldn't exactly be able to do this all alone.
So, that's how I got Amelia Shepherd involved.
***
Addison's desired aesthetic had gotten lost in translation.
She'd been aiming for a respectable soiree, claiming that this party was going to be different this time, that there was going to be no binge-drinking and no aimless wandering around Manhattan and vomiting into trash cans in the middle of the Upper East Side.
She'd wanted cocktails, she'd wanted classy music and she'd wanted educated conversations that our mother had raised us to hold and encourage back in Connecticut.
But, when I eventually arrived, fashionably late, I couldn't see any trace of the signature Montgomery charm.
Instead, I was faced with an already trashed foyer, one that I'd spent half of the afternoon decorating with last-minute streamers I'd been able to hunt down. The banner proclaiming "Happy New Year!" was already half-collapsed and a room full of blurry faces danced to a heavy bass beat from a pair of speakers at the front of the living room.
I froze on the doorstep, my eyes going wide; for a few moments, my head wheeled side to side, attempting to pick out any sign of Addison, or Derek even. But they were nowhere in sight.
I sure wasn't dressed for a party like this, Addison had pushed a casual-formal dress code so I turned up in a blazer and heels.
There was a whole host of unrecognisable faces, people that I didn't know, people that I'd never laid eyes on before or hosted a conversation with. From the look of half of them as they danced provocatively and vibed with the heavy trance music, I could tell that these people wouldn't be interested in talking politics or about international relations.
They were far less interested in START II and more interested in the copious amounts of alcohol that seemed to be passed through the crowds- and by the look of those shot glasses, they weren't exactly drinking Bloody Marys or Old Fashioneds.
A few steps inside of Addisons and Derek's apartment and I could tell that the last minute New Years party had, for lack of a better term, gone to shit. I was completely bewildered by it all-- I wasn't exactly sure what had happened. Somewhere along the line, my organising had fallen through, but where and how, I wasn't too sure...
That was until I saw a familiar face from out of the corner of my eye.
"Beth! Hey!"
Amelia Shepherd was stood in the corner of Addison's pristine apartment, a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand and the other one waving about in the air as she swayed to the beat.
Her face was flushed, her body unstable and she nearly toppled over in her haste to embrace me rather dramatically. I edged towards her, my mouth falling into a line as realisation struck me.
I'd been wrong, before, all of these people-- I did recognise them. They were all of Amy's friends from the nightclub she'd occasionally drag me to, the people who were constantly intoxicated, who was reckless, who were more likely than not doing cocaine on any surface they could find. My stomach rolled.
"Amy." I hissed angrily, my eyes narrowing as I noticed how drunk she was.
In fact, it seemed as though everyone here was drunk.
I was stood in a sea of alcohol and drugs, watching the woman in front of me as if she'd committed one of the most blasphemous sins. In a way she had, I'd asked her to help me, asked her to help set up Addison's party and to organise the cocktails and the music-- in hindsight, I should have been suspicious on how quickly she'd agreed to help me.
She'd told me over the phone that she'd have everything sorted for me, and asked whether she could invite a few friends over, and had said, in her own words, that it would "liven things up a bit". I'd been awfully naive to think that this would all work out in my favour.
"Let's get you a drink!" Amy exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and slopping her whisky over herself.
She wasn't dressed well for the winter weather, in a pair of shorts and a top that gave me goosebumps on my arms just looking at it. It definitely wasn't casual-formal.
I dismissed the offer of alcohol, but it was thrust on me until I sighed in defeat. I took the glass from Amy and did the shot- it tasted bitter, but the warmth from it was deeply appreciated.
I would need a whole lot of alcohol if I was going to survive the night.
I turned around, ignoring Amy in a moment of pure irritation and anger. Intoxicated and incoherent, Amy didn't seem to mind, and instead turned back to someone who I guessed was her date for the night. I lost interested in her completely when she started playing tonsil tennis with them, and instead busied myself with trying to pick out any familiar faces in the crowds.
I found a few- other than those who I recognised from the nightclub, I could pick out faces from the hospital Addison worked at, much to my surprise. Not only that but as I overcame the shock of the environment, I realised that I knew more people than I'd first thought.
The guest list Addison had mentioned earlier had actually come through; the kitchen was filled with middle-aged women who looked distinctively out of place. They all looked awkward, stood there with their glasses of wine, eyes wide and pearl necklaces practically choking them as they compacted themselves into the furthest corner possible.
On entering the kitchen, I noticed how they all simultaneously glared at me. If I wasn't deathly afraid of Addison appearing out of nowhere and beheading me, then I would have made a comment about how their outfits were more formal than casual-formal.
I eyed the bottle of Prosecco in the middle of Derek's expensively furnished kitchen and grabbed a wine glass from a cupboard that I must have used a thousand different times. As I lifted the almost overflowing glass to my lips, I became overly aware of the fact that my sister was present-- I could hear the quick and obnoxious slap of her heels against the hardwood floors as she hurried into the kitchen, as if she was attempting to seek me out specifically.
Casually, I attempted to sink to the floor, shame and guilt tightening my chest as I avoided the inevitable confrontation that would follow.
Somehow, I managed to exit the kitchen without her catching me; I slunk into one of the hallways, passing the bathroom, passing the laundry closet and quickly tailing back around to the foyer. I was thankful that her apartment that she shared with Derek was almost a sadistic labyrinth of corridors and that I knew said labyrinth like the back of my hand.
By the time my wine glass was empty, I was stood beside the front door once again, Amy nowhere insight and a new face appearing as he ambled through the door with two people stood beside him.
I did a double-take. Oh shit.
"Beth? What's going on?"
Derek caught my arm as I attempted to flee, all while folding his coat and hanging it up onto the coat hanger in the foyer. I blanched as his face contorted in bewilderment, his eyes drinking in every inch of his apartment. He must have only just got back from the hospital, expecting a reasonable soiree. This definitely what he hadn't expected.
"Um," I was lost for words,"Do you want my bullshit answer that I'm reciting in my head for your wife or the honest one?"
I felt like a deer caught in headlights, clutching the wine glass close to my chest as I let out a long sigh. I wasn't exactly sure what Derek's reaction to this all was- a brief look in Addison's direct had told me that she was, for a lack of a better time, fucking pissed off. Meanwhile, her husband didn't look distinctively angry.
On the contrary, Derek looked confused for the most of it, if not vaguely amused.
A beat passed and Derek's blue eyes blazed into mine. He wet his bottom lip with his tongue. "A little bit of both."
"Well... A party is happening..."
I stated the obvious blandly, gesturing around at the New Years bash that was increasingly getting a little out of hand. My brother-in-law didn't look too amused at that and I guessed that I was playing with his patience.
My grip on the glass tightened. "And I think Addison is plotting my death as we speak..."
He didn't disagree with me vocally, but he did frown, his whole face concaving into a rather grave look that made me think that maybe I was wrong. Maybe Addison wasn't plotting my death; maybe she was plotting my kidnapping and brutal torture. I wouldn't put it past her.
"How did this happen?"
"Honestly... That's what I'm trying to figure out, right now." To my surprise, I answered his question with a reasonable degree of calmness. "I've only been here for a few minutes and I've already deduced that everyone here is drunk and that I have a whole lot of catching up to do. I've also come to the conclusion that I fucked up somewhere along the line and it may or may not have something to do with the fact that I asked your little sister to help me organise..."
Derek let a brief curse fall through his lips. "Is she here?"
I nodded and Derek looked as though he'd had his own eureka moment. I supposed that my guesses were correct, as, at the mention of Amy, Derek channelled his attention onto glaring in the direction I gestured in.
Amy was no longer by the speakers, she was long gone, probably catching the scent of her temperamental older brother in the wind. He gritted his teeth, looking over his shoulder at the two guests he'd bought with him, yelling something at them over the heavy bassline.
"You guys stay here, I need to find Amelia!"
And he disappeared, into the crowd, leaving me with his two companions, of whom I hadn't really acknowledged until now, while we were face to face.
A female, vaguely familiar face set her narrowed eyes on me, a look of distaste running through them as I nervously smiled at her. She looked like one of Addison's friends, dressed too formal, like the rest of the middle-aged women that were herded into the kitchen like animals in a pen. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight updo and she appeared to be wearing an assortment of Cartier and Tiffanys all over her skinny wrists and neck.
Just the weight of her attention on me made me highly uncomfortable, so I looked over to her companion, the man whom she clung onto as if she depended on him to survive.
"Beth."
I met Mark's crystalline blue eyes as he breathed out my name, taking in the sight of me. My chest fell rather awkwardly and I watched as he tightened his hold around the woman almost subconsciously. I managed a brief, faux smile, my vice grip on the empty wine glass becoming more and more prevalent. He looked dashing, dressed like one of the pictures of Tyson Ballou I'd breeze over in magazines on my morning commute.
Unlike all of the others Addison had invited, Mark was more casual than formal, making me almost chuckle at the satisfaction that ran through me. But the chuckle was too consumed by the shock that ran through my mind after barely seeing him after a year or so.
"Mark."
I sounded too breathless for my own good and I started to wonder whether I'd suddenly become a lightweight and that all of the alcohol had gone to my head.
"What's going on here?" His attention moved back to the chaos around us and I blinked, briefly meeting the eyes of the woman whom I assumed was probably his flavour of the week.
She was stood close to him, looking around in disgust once her sharp eyes had torn away from me. I bit the inside of my cheek, wishing that the glass in my hand was full.
"I fucked up," I muttered grimly to myself and I knew Mark could hear as he let out a sigh. "I made a mess and now Addison's pissed at me."
There was no point in blaming Amy for the state of all of this. Amelia had a track record for these sort of things, she was irresponsible when she was on a bender, and the last couple of weeks for her had been rough to watch. I'd been foolish to think that I could help both Addison and Amy in one go- I'd thought that giving Amy the task of organising some things would be a good distraction, seeing a she'd been on personal leave since late November from work.
She'd abandoned her medical studies briefly, where she was working as an intern, just because of her personal issues, all of the alcohol and the drugs was becoming overwhelming. I'd thought I could help her get some sort of focus in her life would be good, mutually for both of us. But I'd been wrong.
It was all on me.
"I would be angry if I were Addie," The woman sniffed loudly, breaking me away from my dark and desolate self-pity and hatred. I looked up at her, my eyes narrowing slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at me down her nose. "It's awfully disappointing, I was looking forwards to tonight. Looks like we'll have to go elsewhere."
Mark just glanced down at her, his face impassive. She looked up at him, her face softening and I knew that she'd fallen deeply for his charms.
"I'm sorry..." I wasn't sorry at all. "But I don't believe that we've met."
The woman didn't even bat an eyelash before her lips twitched into a smirk. "Oh but we have, Elizabeth-- I'm almost offended that you don't remember your sisters best friend."
Ah.
Flower bitch, fucking Daffodil.
"Nice to see you again, Bluebell." I smiled at her, but it was false and overly sweet and the woman's face faltered for a second. I looked over at Mark, recognising the hilarity that glittered in his eyes. I inclined my head to him, sharing a brief smirk with the man that I'd parted with, what felt like only yesterday. "You too, Sloan."
His lips twitched at me and he stepped out of the way, dragging the Flower-girl with him.
I was going to make a break for it, before things got dramatic, maybe buy some cheap liquor, go home and watch the New Years Eve ball drop on my television set from the comfort of my couch.
I was about to leave the party, but the one soul I was desperate to avoid stopped me dead in my tracks. My eyes widened and my blood ran cold.
"Elizabeth Forbes Montgomery, don't you dare take another step in the direction of that door."
***
Surprisingly, the party died just before midnight.
Unsurprisingly, Addison was the cause of it.
She'd turned off the music and yelled with all of her might, threatening to call the police if everyone wasn't to leave by the time she counted to twenty. Then, it'd just been a rat race, watching as drunkards fumbled and tripped, hurrying to make it through the door and into the elevator at the end of the hallway.
I'd been forced to watch it all, watch as Amy lead the flood, having escaped the wrath of both her brother and her sister-in-law. I'd sat on a chair like a child on time-out, just beside Addison and her husband, my face sad as I tended the wounds that were still fresh from the scolding I'd received.
But that had been thirty minutes ago, and we were just five or so minutes away from 1994. I'd slipped away into the shadows as Addison's friends- including Poppy, Sunflower or whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was- all fawned over my upset sister as if she'd suffered a death in the family. With Addison distracted (and finally receiving attention from Derek, might I add) I'd been able to make it onto the balcony that was attached to the master bedroom, a private and sheltered place that I figured I'd be able to recuperate on.
It just so happened that I also managed to snatch a stray bottle of sherry on my way through, sneaking it with me-- but as I sat there, looking over the picturesque view Addison and Derek had over the Upper-East Side, and opened the bottle, I realised that I wasn't alone.
"Addison really did a number on you, huh?"
I didn't look up as Mark leant against the patio door behind me, I just lifted the sherry bottle to my lips and took a long, much-needed swig of it, grimacing as the taste rolled around my taste-buds. I wasn't a fan of sherry, it reminded me too much of my grandparents and how they were all radical conservatives that were far too opinionated for my tastes. However, it was what I'd grabbed in the haste of my exit; I didn't care, I just wanted to feel the warm burn of alcohol, get as blackout drunk as I'd said I wouldn't at the beginning of the evening.
"I deserved it," I muttered grimly.
I looked around the city skyline, my lips in a permanent frown.
I felt awfully horrible, with my conscious heavy and my emotions all over the place. As Mark walked forwards, his expensive shoes making audible sounds against the floor of the patio, I felt my eyes water, but I wiped at them stubbornly, distracting myself with yet another mouthful of the vile but helpful alcohol.
The burn did nothing to subdue my tears, I turned away when I saw him out of the corner of my eye; he descended to sit beside me, seemingly deciding that he wanted to grace me with his company for a while. I sniffed loudly, blinking quickly and offering him the sherry. Not a word passed between us, but he accepted the bottle, raising it to his lips and taking a long sip.
"I thought you were more of a scotch guy?" I questioned, attempting to strike up some sort of humour.
I chuckled at my own horrible attempt and he echoed it, clearing his throat. I glanced over at him, but like I was a few moments before, he was staring down at the lively city, the lights and the activity reflected in his bright eyes.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures."
Was this a desperate time?
I wasn't sure, all I knew was that this year was sure to begin on a shitty note. I'd fucked up and although it was a relatively stupid thing to get all worked up over, it was devastating to me. I'd had perfectly good intentions and those intentions had gotten lost somewhere in the transition. Nothing at the moment was going my way, the blind dates were terrible, my last few years of medical school were already tiring me out and the exams that I was facing were probably going to kill me before I would even get to them.
All I had going for me was the fact that I was still trying to keep afloat in a flood of insecurities and obstacles.
"I'll drink to that." I said finally, taking the bottle back and nursing it like they did in the movies.
I felt overdramatic today, I felt like the festivities in the city below us was inspiring me to be melodramatic and over-the-top. I felt like, for at least a few minutes, I could act as though I was able to do whatever the hell I wanted.
"L'chaim." He chimed in, causing me to chuckle.
I touched the bottle to his empty palm in a mock toast, echoing the phrase that caused my stomach to roll. Life was being a bitch tonight, so maybe I could match up? Take inspiration from that?
It was cold up here. At some point in the evening, I'd lost my blazer, leaving me in a shirt that I'd only worn because I'd seen it on an episode of Grace Under Fire.
It was a black lace shirt that was translucent and did nothing to hold any form of warmth. The hairs on my arms bristled and I frowned to myself once again, pressing my teeth into my bottom lip and feeling my forehead fold into a thousand different lines.
At this rate, I'll be giving myself premature wrinkles.
"So, how have you been?" His casual birth of a conversation made a sigh escape my lips and I glanced down at my feet, twisting my feet and digging the small heels of my boots into the concrete floor. "It's been a lifetime since I've spoken to you."
"Yeah," It was my turn to clear my throat. "I've been okay..."
That was a kinda lie. I was okay, but only when I was distracted.
"Very busy, medical school is heating up and I've just been overwhelmed with it all, really. There's a lot to do and so little time--" I cut myself off with another mouthful of sherry. "It's crazy how fast this year has gone."
"Yeah." He echoed; he sounded distracted. I didn't look at him, instead closed my eyes, listening to the orchestra of a nighttime New York, the symphony of cars, horns, music and celebrations as people prepared to ring in the new year. "I still feel like it's still 1990, do you know what I mean?"
"I was still in Connecticut in 1990," I said, the corner of my mouth slackening as I recounted what my life had been like three years ago. "I was still some small-town girl that believed everything their parents told them and thought they were going to grow up in a fishbowl, I thought that I'd forget about university and instead just marry some small-town pretty boy... one of those big-shot lawyers that have never been out of state, but still act like they own the world..." I rolled my eyes at myself, how naive I'd been. "I don't feel like it's 1990, I feel like it's some parallel universe..."
Over three years, a lot of things had happened. I'd moved out here to be with my sister a year before she'd married Derek, I'd lost and loved Calum and I'd decided to drop everything and pursue a career that I wasn't exactly sure I could square up to. I swallowed awkwardly.
"In 1990 I was watching Derek fall in love with Addison," He said slowly as if he was reminiscing a distant memory. It was only nearly four years ago and yet we both struggled to hold onto the memories. "I remember that Derek invited me to some Japanese restaurant downtown and he told me that there was this girl from his friend's Pharmacology class that he'd only been on a few dates with but he was already taken by..."
I placed the bottle in between us and he took it in his hands, not quite paying attention to what he was doing.
"He kept me up on the phone that night for hours," He said, "like some sort of crazy teenage girl, just talking about Addison Montgomery and how crazy he was about her..."
"I remember when I first met him," I smiled softly, the memory causing me to chuckle. "He was so nervous, it was like a job interview-- they'd been dating already for three years and he was a nervous wreck. I remember thinking that he was just some snobby guy that was all this-- and then I got to know him..." We exchanged a brief look, him snorting as I shrugged wordlessly. "I had to give it to him... Derek really wormed his way into our hearts. He was stupidly confident, but that won everyone over... even Archer."
"I'm surprised, I didn't find the elusive Montgomery brother here tonight."
"Oh, Arch doesn't like parties," I said quickly, rubbing my hands against my forearms. I paused for a beat. "Neither do I, to be honest."
A silence settled between us, one filled with memories. I thought about when I'd first come to New York, when I'd spent my first night on Addison's couch in the townhouse she used to have just outside of her college campus.
I'd eventually found the apartment I lived in now, a comfortable one bedroom stupid that I'd grown to cherish. I honestly couldn't imagine my life if I hadn't come to New York-- it would have been different, that was for sure.
Maybe I really would have married a lawyer, one so different from Calum, and then spent my whole life as a trophy wife and in a loveless marriage.
My hometown had been a stifling environment, one that I felt as though was crushing me, crushing my abilities and my space to grow. New York had given me a chance to spread my wings and attempt to fly-- attempt because I was still climbing stairs of other peoples apartment buildings to see the world from a bird's eye view.
Just like tonight.
I loved the view from Addison's balcony, it was the sort of height that made you giddy, made your head spin slightly. It was a small apartment block, with luxury apartments that had rent higher than I'd ever expected to earn in a month, but still held the sort of feeling that made you feel infinitely powerful.
The view took my breath away, capturing the heart of a city I'd grown to love; I smiled sadly at it all.
"I remember when I first met you."
His voice interrupted my musings and I turned to look at him. He'd been watching me closely, watching how I'd stared down at the skyline and shared an intimate moment of weakness with the city I owed so much to. His eyes shimmered, not unlike the pinpricks of light that reflected in the buildings around us.
"Hmm?" My eyebrows bunched together at that thought, a slightly horrified chuckle escaping my lips. "Oh god, the engagement party, right?"
"No... The clinic mixer." He answered.
I frowned, remembering the night while he just looked at me his lips pulling into his signature smirk as I let out a long, strained breath. My cheeks heated and I pressed a hand to my forehead, shaking my head.
Mark shrugged, "I was always so curious to find out why Derek was hiding you away from me, like some sort of forbidden little treasure... I never knew why until I met you..."
"Because I was his fiancé's little sister and that's a violation of the bro code?" I suggested, chuckling at him as he rolled his eyes.
"No, because you were someone who could put me in my place..." I took it as a complete, raising my eyebrows at him as his smirk dropped and he held up a hand. I went to tease him about what he'd said, but he waved his hand around insistently. "Hold up a minute-- I know what you--"
"No, it's fine, I get it." I smiled at him, finding it awfully funny how it seemed to take so much of him to admit such a thing. "I'm a bitch, I get that a lot."
He laughed.
"Derek said that you reminded him of me," Mark said, blindsiding my words. "And he was right, you had and still have a comeback for everything I say, you match my wit, you keep everyone on their toes. Hell, you remind me of me. It's scary. Derek found that scary. When I first met you, you were so different to the person I last saw a year ago-- the girl that I met at that mixer, who called me an asshole when I acted inappropriately at the engagement part in '91, she was still so conservative, waiting for someone to slap her on the wrist for stepping out of line. You were so overwhelmed by a big city, so small--"
"I'm still overwhelmed." I breathed out, almost inaudibly.
"But you're different." He insisted.
"Bad different?"
He shrugged. "I'd say good. You don't care what people are going to say anymore-- and no- before you interrupt I know that you care about what Addison has to say, that's your nature. You do what you want and to hell what other people think about it--"
His words caused my chest to ache. I wished he was right.
"You sound like Derek," I said, almost in a whine.
He chuckled. "Is that a bad thing?"
"Yes, you're supposed to be the fun one." Was my reasoning. I turned to face him, tilting my head to the side, watching as he listened to my every word intently. "Derek's the serious one, he's the one that gets nervous over meeting people and deals with all of the emotional things-- you're the recklessly fun one, you're the one who doesn't give a damn what people think."
A sigh escaped his lips and he turned away.
"It's pretty hard not to deal with all of the emotional things, Little Montgomery."
"Mark..." I trailed off, a certain uncertainty filling me.
Mark Sloan didn't reply, instead, he looked down at the bottle of sherry in his hands, looking at it as if it was the last thing on the planet that he could rely on. I observed every inch of his face, watching as he grew increasingly more impassive, leaving me with nothing but a empty weight on my chest. I crossed my ankles and stretched my arms out in front of me, feeling the bitter bite of the winter air.
A shiver ran up my spine and Mark seemed to notice as he passed me the bottle, knowing that the warmth from the bottle would keep the chill at bay. I gave him a thankful smile and spoke once there was a warm tingle at the back of my throat.
"I see that you've found yourself a real catch," A faint smile appeared on his face at my dry tone. "Petunia Vanderbilt, I never thought I'd see the day."
"Miraculously, you've remembered her name," Mark said, chuckling lightly. I didn't miss the look of hilarity that flashed across his face. "Anyone would think that you're being mischievous."
"Who? Me?" I asked, feigning innocence, my eyes going wide. I pressed a hand to my chest, appearing deeply offended at his allegations. "I would never."
Mark didn't seem convinced, "For the record, we're not dating-- but I don't know, Petunia seems nice. A little irritating- yeah, I'll give you that. But, god, she knows her way around a man..."
A look of disgust rapidly dawned across my face. I didn't need to know that at all.
So I decided to change the subject. I turned my eyes back to the city, knowing that in a matter of seconds the whole city would explode with life and celebration, the turn of a new year bringing a definite end to the struggles I'd had through the year.
"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if Addison had never come to New York?" My question caused Mark to frown deeply. "Because I wonder about that a lot-- I think about how our parents didn't want us to leave Connecticut but had no problem watching Archie board that plan to Yale. I think that Addison and I wouldn't have become anything more than trophy wives-- or maybe Addison would have found someone like Derek who'd love her far too much to shelf her. But, I think I would have been that one participant trophy you got for turning up for a sports day in first grade, the one covered in cobwebs and in some box at the bottom of the attic."
I paused.
"And then sometimes I wish that I would have never come to New York, that I'd just embraced that destiny and let it be. I love New York... but those changes you were talking about before-- they terrify me. I'm terrified, all the time, of college, of medical school... of all of the blind dates that Addison keeps forcing me to go on-- of guys called Gareth that make me feel like absolute shit...."
I was hanging out all of my clothing to dry, airing all of my dirty laundry. Maybe it was the alcohol or the way Mark looked at me, but I felt like it was important to confide all of these things. To the man beside me and the city that I felt as though I could never repay.
"Beth..."
"No, I-" I cut myself off with a sigh, shaking my head. "I've had too much to drink. I'm saying things that I shouldn't--"
"I'm glad you came to New York."
Mark's words caused me to freeze, quite literally.
In 2009, I would look back at this night and compare myself to a statue that's frozen to the bone, caught in a look of delicate surprise. I looked over at him and saw him looking away, as if his owned words embarrassed him like I wasn't the only one who was saying things I shouldn't.
But he said them. He did. They were almost carried away by the breeze at the top of the apartment buildings. But they were there. Hanging in the stagnant air between us, making my heart rate pick up a little bit and that same uncertainty run along my skin like a shiver that a bottle of sherry couldn't fix.
We sat there in silence.
Midnight came suddenly, causing a tight breath to catch at the back of my throat and tears to build in my eyes. 1993 was chased away with the explosion of colours and lights across the night sky, cheers and horns echoing through the city.
Behind us, the dead party boasted sounds of pairs exchanging "Happy New Years" back and forth, yet we both stayed silent, watching the fireworks with distracted attention.
He glanced at me multiple times through the firework display, but I refrained from following suit.
Instead, I just fell back into the chair on Addison's balcony, gradually scooting along and resting my head against Mark Sloan's shoulder. He tensed at the action, but I could sense the small smile that bloomed across his handsome features. Almost subconsciously, he brushed his lips against my forehead, his words unmasked by the sound of deafening booms that shook Manhattan.
"Happy New Year, Elizabeth."
I smiled. "Happy New Year, Mark."