Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟬𝟲 so it goes...

𝙑𝙄.
SO IT GOES...

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NEW YORK

SOMEHOW, LINGERING IN a college mixer in the middle of campus hadn't been how I'd envisioned my evening to go.

Originally, I'd planned to stay behind at Archer's clinic and work a few hours doing some admin for him. I'd been doing that lately, helping him get some things in line as a thank you for allowing me to shadow him through some of his consultations. But then I'd heard about a recruitment mixer filled with some of the biggest faces in the Manhattan medical scene and I'd instantly dropped everything. I'd never been one for cocktails and a fancy looking function room but it didn't seem too much of a bad idea when a networking opportunity was involved.

So I stood there, wearing an outfit that I'd completely ripped from Addison's closet, feeling like a mannequin that had been coerced into an approachable position. My smile was extremely forced and my hand was holding my champagne flute a little too tightly. I winced at the thought of having to speak to so many people in the span of two hours. There were so many old white men surrounding me that I thought, for a moment, that I'd stumbled into a country club.

And then I saw a familiar face.

"Aren't you a little too old for a college event?"

The question caused him to raise an eyebrow. He'd materialised out of the chaos of the mixture, holding his own drink and with a name tag pressed against his dress shirt. It said Mark Sloan: Plastics Fellow. My tone had been teasing but I seemed to hit a nerve. He approached me as if I'd just challenged him, a brief laugh escaped my lips.

"You're Addisons sister, right?" He seemed to vaguely recognise me and I just smiled, my glass lingering on my bottom lip. Out of all of the people in the room, he was the only face that I recognised. When I nodded, he seemed to sigh out of his nose. "It's always nice to see a familiar face."

We hadn't had a full conversation before. At Archer's clinic opening, he'd very briefly asked about my college and that had been it. But now, he was dog-earing me as a familiar face and smiling at me in a friendly way. In all honesty, this whole vibe of this event was reminding me of the clinic opening, was this the sort of world people like Mark lived in? Corporate events and shiny dress shirts and shoes? He was wearing the same blazer as he had at the clinic. I was wearing the same shoes.

"Of course," I replied, looking around at all of the unfamiliar people. There were representatives from every single surgical department in every hospital in the city, all clamouring around and talking about medicine. "I love nothing more than to turn up to events and chat with my sister's friends."

As if to punctuate my sentence, I took a mouthful of champagne.

"Ah," Mark's face contorted, "I don't think Addie would consider me one of her friends."

I let out a very breathy laugh.

"Oh, that's true."

Addison had never said anything in Mark's favour. Neither had Archer. Both of them seemed to be completely aligned in their distaste for him. The only person who seemed to sing his praises were Derek. My sister's boyfriend was very much the sort of 'ride or die' friend type that I'd always wished for. It was clear to me that Mark was a very polarising person. Addison's frequent way to describe him was 'asshole', and I gathered that from a slight gleam in his eye.

Oh, he was definitely the sort of person to hook up with you and never return your calls afterwards.

A few of the people in my classes already knew him. His reputation was that palpable, people knew him, people spoke about him at length. Teaching assistants seemed to loathe his presence and some of the college seminar leaders winced at the thought of him— but here he was, approachable and friendly and with his hair only a tiny bit askew.