Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟭𝟰 psychobitch

𝙓𝙄𝙑.
PSYCHOBITCH

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FULL DISCLOSURE: I didn't exactly know where I was going.

The hospital was still completely bewildering to me.

It was too big with too many floors and walls and staff and patients. It left me being passed from staff to staff like a viral infection, bouncing around based on hearsay where Owen Hunt had been last.

First, I flew to the ICU on a rumour that he'd had to attend to a post-op, and then back down into the outer ER on the 'trusted' knowledge that he'd swapped onto an incoming patient. My leads all felt muddled, different people telling me different things and ultimately resulting in me out of breath with my step count way higher than 10k.

I ran from Trauma to the OR floor, from X-Ray to MRI to a patient room and back—

A janitor, slightly bemused and worried for my wellbeing finally directed me, breathless and sweaty, back towards CT, citing that he'd seen the redhaired military man pass a few moments ago.

Sceptical but just about desperate enough to pay attention, I followed his directions.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

The groan that left me was almost unholy.

I leant against the doorframe, shaking my head at Derek as he looked at me, similarly amused. Another dead end had lead me to my ex-brother-in-law sat in the same room I'd found him in with Archer, the machine beyond the glass wall making a familiar loud humming noise.

However, this time, Derek wasn't alone.

I looked from him to Mark (who looked as though he was chewing some sort of deadly wasp) and then to Lexie (who looked as though she was about to pass out). I could feel the tension, a tension that didn't link very nicely with the amused quirk in Derek's smile.

His eyes were glittering at me, in a wild way which made me think that he was definitely thinking about how good it had felt to punch Mark's little pretty face—I didn't blame him, in all honesty, it looked like it had felt amazing.

What also looked amazing, by similar lengths, was the way that Mark went through such great effort to avoid my eye. Even when he turned his head towards the door to see who had appeared and effectively stared straight at me, he took the initiative to avoid acknowledging me.

It was sordid to say that it did, in fact, fill me with the tiniest bit of disappointment; I wanted to see the exasperation on his face when he reminded of how I was still here and capable of popping up and terrorising him at any moment.

"You live in here or something?" I chipped back at Derek, attempting to play off the fact that Indonesia had left me wildly out of shape. "Cheap rent?"

"You could say that," was his response, lips twitching as he looked over at me. Neither of our energies seemed to fit the ambiance that was being so rapidly shaped by the two other people in the room. At that thought, my eyes flickered over to Lexie.

Lexie. The tiny little brunette sandwiched in between the two men who had defined my life for way too many years. The doe eyes and the pale sheen to her face as she attempted to withstand the tension in the room. She looked so small pitched in between the two of them, appearing like a house in between two skyscrapers.

I was immediately reminded how young she was, occupying a space that I was all too familiar with. Just watching her shift from one foot to the other and blink over at me (with inherent desperation as if to beg me to get her out of there immediately), was enough to make me turn introspective.