Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬18 death before dishonour

𝙓𝙑𝙄𝙄𝙄.
DEATH BEFORE DISHONOUR

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ADDISON WASN'T RETURNING my calls.

It was something that I'd anticipated, of course, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt to some degree. I'd spent the whole day blowing up her phone, wandering around the house on my day off, eating what seemed to be a can of frosting that I presumed Izzie had left in the fridge (and had told me that it was free-game) and rolling my eyes repeatedly at the ceiling.

I'd adventurously decided to spend twenty-four hours in a set of pyjamas, use Meredith's wi-fi and watch Gossip Girl, all while my phone was stuck to my ear.

I'd been told that I wasn't needed at work today seeing as I'd had enough time to finish paperwork, alongside the fact that I didn't have any appointments. Apparently, it was pretty hard to sort out my patient list and transfer appointments over to me.

Today also marked the day that Izzie was in recovery after her massive brain surgery that Derek had led; everyone was stressed, Meredith had taken a long time lying on the bathroom floor and now everyone was at the hospital waiting for Izzie to wake up. I could feel the stress in the air, despite me being the only one present—and it had just inspired me to get even more anxious.

And what said anxiety more than phoning your estranged sister?

I hadn't done it before, and Derek could tell—just before going into Izzie's surgery the night before, he'd eyed me weirdly before giving me the sequence of numbers that I'd vowed never to dial. I'd deleted her phone number as soon as I'd touched down in Canada (rather tipsy after a few duty-free drinks) and to be honest, I'd never quite cared to memorise it.

He'd given me a long, wary look before shaking his head slowly, also telling me that he didn't want to get involved when I tried to explain why I'd begin to blow up Addison Montgomery's phone.

It was perfectly innocent. Mark's attempt to move in with Lexie had inspired a sudden need for space of my own and this whole day off was just fuelling it. So, thus the venture of operation get-Addison-to-allow-me-into-my-trust-fund began.

Well, it hadn't, seeing as Addison wouldn't pick up the phone.

Of course, Addison was a busy woman, she'd always been the busy Montgomery. Archer was rather chilled when it came to his work ethic—although he liked to make people worked and really enjoyed hard work, yet nothing could barely begin to reach Addie.

She'd always taken long shifts, take pride in her bedside manners and become the successful and tirelessly hardworking one. I supposed that was one of the reasons Mark had been so attracted to her.

This whole success thing was probably why she'd neglected me- well, that was what the tiny part of my brain was telling me. The other near whole of it was just tutting and shaking its head, wishing Archer had been the responsible sibling who had taken the initiative to curb my addictions at the source...

Which had totally worked back in New York.

Not only had Addie's attempts to stop my drug and alcohol consumption been futile, but her freezing my trust fund under some little loophole that our parents had left for the 'sensible siblings' to use over me, had also curbed my style.

The longer she had my little stash (I say that but I could probably never work again with the amount my parents had been pining away for me), the longer I was stuck in Meredith's house, eating frosting from a can and watching Leighton Meester and Blake Lively out-bitch each other for season after season.