71. Hope for the Hopeless
My dad's never gonna get off the couch again.
-Mark Sloan
Reading on her laptop, Emily swallowed a knot as she finally found the picture. Her head pulsed in pain from reading all night but she couldn't help herself.
There wasn't a lot of Mark in her face. She was pretty though. So, so pretty. The picture they took was one with her husband at some event and in that picture, it was almost as if she were staring at the picture of Mark's brother.
Janet Sloan was brutally murdered this Sunday following an incident involving 54 year old Gilbert Livingston…
"Whatcha looking at?" Mark asked, walking in and she slammed the laptop shut forcefully. Wincing at the loud snap, she prayed that her screen didn't break as she set it aside. Kissing her good morning, her husband handed her a scone. Home-made. Her favourite. Taking a bite out of it, she smiled at the sweet taste and hoped it masked her nervousness.
"Just stuff. Chief Res duties are gonna bite me in the ass later, no matter how much April is helping me. Plus, I've been searching for a gift for Zola for her birthday. How's the house?" Mark grinned, lying down on the bed with her. Scooching over, she nestled into his side. It was his whole new love and Emily couldn't help but be jealous that she wasn't able to see it.
"Everett loves it. The yard is huge and there's room for barbeques and you're gonna love it," he promised. Nodding, she finished off her scone, her arm spreading across his chest. "Should we throw a housewarming party?"
"With all the other things that's gonna happen, we probably won't remember to." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Or we'll keep postponing it, like the actual house." He chuckled, pecking her forehead.
"You're right. Avery's coming over today to help move our things so don't count on him to bring you dinner tonight." Pouting playfully, she sighed.
"It's fine." The sound of beeping sliced the air and she groaned as he got off the bed. Flopping on the pillow, she watched him go. He turned around, brushing hair away from her face and kissing her briefly. "See you later?"
"Promise."
As he left, the smile dropped off her face and she turned to look at her laptop. Guiltily, she reached for it again just to see if she could see any part of Mark in his mother's face.
.
"Thanks, Mer," Emily whispered. Her friend glanced at her nervously before setting the brakes of her wheelchair. Before her lay Richard Sloan, weak and blanched. Taking hold of his hand, she grimaced when she could see the pellucidity of his skin.
"I'll stand outside. Call me when you're ready," the blonde murmured, patting her shoulder before leaving. Emily leaned back into the wheelchair, staring at her husband's father with soft sympathy.
"If that's pity, kill me now," the man rasped, coming to life. His blue eyes cracked open and Emily withdrew her hand. "What happened to you?"
"Ruptured a muscle," she said with a shrug. "How are you feeling?"
"Shitty. Can barely breathe." His voice grated on her ears and she looked to his monitor.
"You could be intubated. It'll help you breathe easier."
"No." A silence fell over them and Emily fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "Did you find the article?"
"I did." Emily had found them all. One, that lead to another, and then another. She had read every scrap of news she could find. Everything about it made her heart ache. She knew the date now, something Mark had forgotten and everything hurt. "And… and I hate it."
"Mark is a lot like her," he whispered and she craned her neck to look at him, eyebrows coming together in confusion. "A lot of people say he looks like me, but he is all Janet. I see so much of her in him."
"Has he talked to you?"
"We've talked, yes. Mostly about his recent life. He told me about his son and how you two are married, and I am so happy for him. He talks a lot about you."
"Uh, which parts?" Her cheeks flushed as she avoided his gaze. "'Cause maybe not all of it is so great." Boston, the miscarriage, the shooting.
"Life is never 'great', Dr. Moore. You take what you can get, when you can get it, while you can still get it." He coughed and she reached forward for the oxygen mask, wincing when it pulled on her sore hip. "No, don't. Don't. I'm an old man and my time has come and now it's too late. I know that."
"Mr. Sloan—"
"Call me Dick," he corrected with a smile. Again, her blush intensified and she thought for a split second, if things weren't so awful, she could've been friends with Mark's father. "Mark's grown into a good man," he said. "I'm glad that he'll have you when I'm gone."
"He didn't have you for very long," she pointed out and Mr. Sloan barked a laugh.
"You're right." His breath rattled and hiccuped in his chest as his voice grew thick. Coughing, the man tried to clear whatever it was but it wouldn't budge. "Something tells me you're right often."
"I have to be. A doctor can't afford many mistakes," she said.
Richard Sloan smiled for a brief moment, a flash of a second before it disappeared. "Mark is my medical proxy, but I wanted you to know—" He choked and Emily took hold of his hand. His fingers, cold and spindly, curled around her warm palm. His grip was insistent and she leaned forward— "Mark won't think straight. He'll want to bury me in some mass grave or dump me in the sea, or…" Again, another coughing fit seized him and Emily shook her head.
"Don't talk like that. He wouldn't."
"He hates me."
"Mr. Sloan-"
"I've made my peace with that. I just… don't let him. I know it's selfish and I know he won't want it, but please, next to Janet. In New York. He knows where." Emily bit her lip, reigning in the words that no, this is supposed to be Mark you're telling this to. Not his wife you've just met.
"Okay," she said instead with a fragile nod. "Okay, I'll tell him."
"Thank you." His eyes closed and he seemed to breathe easier, as if a weight lifted off his chest. "You're a good woman. I'm so glad. I'm so glad that I got to see him. That… I am just—" His breath caught— "Thank you."
"Of course. I can text him, if you'd like?" she whispered and his fingers fell limp after an accepting squeeze. Emily sat there for a moment, watching his terrible, steady vitals for a moment before raking her eyes over Richard Sloan's face. Turning around, she pulled her phone out of her bag that hung on one of the handles of her wheelchair.
Texting Mark, she told him to come to his father's room ASAP and not five minutes later was there a knock on the door. Meredith opened it, casting them a glance before closing it again. Mark crouched beside her, taking her hand in his.
"What is it?" he whispered and she merely guided his head to her chest and hugged him, chin atop of his head. "Em, I don't—"
"Mark?"
"It's me, Dad," he replied, standing. Emily could see how much he cared from the concern weaved in his voice to the way he twitched to sit on the side of his father's bed. No matter what he said, Mark had a bigger heart than people thought and he cared about his dad. Emily shot him a glance and Mark perched on the side of the bed, knee hitched up. "Did you need something?"
"Just wanted to see you. My son," he whispered, "my young boy. You were so sweet and cocky and gentle all at once." Mark frowned, face scrunching up. He looked so much like Everett with that expression. "You deserved better than what I gave you. Forgive me."
"Dad, I—" Mark's voice choked up and Emily reached for his knee. Mark's hand came down on hers, squeezing tightly— "You're not dying."
"Yet."
"Dad—"
"You always had trouble accepting death," his father wheezed, "and it's such a shame, considering you're a doctor."
"That's why I became a doctor. You know that, right?" Face red, Mark blinked away hot tears that escaped anyway. His hands shook and he refused to look at his father in the face. Emily, from where she sat, only let him squeeze the life out of her hand as she tried to keep herself from crying. She shouldn't be here. This is their moment and she shouldn't be here— "Mom is the reason I became a doctor. It was never Derek."
"I know. Some part of me always knew. My sweet, smart son. A doctor. Always too good for me and your mother. We should've paid more attention. You grew up when we weren't even looking," Richard Sloan whispered. He reached for his son's face, landing hard on his cheek. Mark turned his face away, tears tracking down his skin and seeping into his mouth. "You can't forgive me." Agony warped the older man's face, pure pain hollowing out his barely-opened eyes. "That's okay."
"Dad, I'm sorry."
"No, son. I'm sorry." Richard's eyes slowly closed and Mark keened forward, head touching his father's knuckles. His hands gripped the still hand as the monitors continued to beep quietly. As the older man slipped into sleep, Mark stayed unmoving and Emily could only reach forward, pressing her cheek to Mark's knee in an effort to help.
She knew there was nothing she could do.
.
Richard Sloan died in his sleep two days later.
Mark had been sitting vigil for the past fifty hours and he was there when he slipped away. Emily sat outside in her wheelchair with Everett in her lap, Derek and Callie beside her. Taylor and Noah stood behind the nurse's station as they all waited. The stats were steadily dropping, have been for over the past eight hours.
Everett seemed to sense the somber mood, sitting in his mother's lap quietly. Emily took hold of her son, kissing his head.
"Your daddy's gonna be sad for a long time, okay?" Emily whispered and Everett looked up at her. "That doesn't mean he doesn't love you. He loves you so much." He bounced up and down in her lap, holding onto the newest stuffie, a giraffe Mark had bought him last week.
"This is hard to watch," Callie murmured, eyes wet. Turning away, she tapped her hand against the nurse's counter as Derek sighed, leaning against it.
"Someone should go in with him. Be there when his dad actually goes." Taylor leaned forward on his forearms, scrub cap tied around his head. He'd just gotten out of surgery.
"I think he wants to be alone," Derek said quietly. "Did he ever say where he wanted to be buried?"
"New York. Richard said Mark would know where," Emily piped up and Derek nodded. The neurosurgeon took out his phone, checking the date. Surgeons forgot what day it was once in awhile.
"Okay. I can take him for a few days." Emily blinked gratefully at him as Noah walked around the counter.
"So will I. Mark could use some friends." Noah glanced at Callie who nodded.
"I can go too," Emily said but Noah shook his head, crouching before Emily and taking his nephew.
"You need to rest." Everett wrapped his arms around his uncle's neck. "And you can't take any more time off of fifth year. We'll make sure he's okay." Emily's eyes searched his hazel gaze before nodding reluctantly.
"Make sure he calls me," she whispered and he nodded, reaching forward to kiss her forehead.
"I promise."
There was a loud crash and Noah shot up, whipping around. Mark was walking around in the room, eyes dark with the fury of a storm. His chair was tipped over — he must've thrown it or kicked it or something — and his hands ran ragged through his hair as he reached for the door.
The door clicked open and they heard the straight tone of the monitor. It rang hollow in all of their ears as his storm-filled eyes raked over them, one by one before he turned away and closed the door behind him with a thundering slam.
"I'll go turn off the monitor," Taylor whispered, walking to the room where the dead man lay. Emily, with all her might, wished she was well enough to walk after her husband. Instead, Callie and Derek walked after him. Noah stood beside Emily, her son in her arms.
"We have to forgive her, you know?" he asked and Emily breathed in, breath shaking the very confines of her heart. It felt like it'd shatter and she wanted to cry. "We can't… if she dies and we don't. I can't handle that."
"But Mark didn't forgive him." Emily's eyes drifted off to stare through the window. Taylor turned off all the monitors. She wanted to say so much but all that came out was a cough, masking her tears. Everett pawed at her face, bouncing around and she held her son to her face. "I love you, bug."
"I won't do this without you," Noah whispered and the sister turned to him, shaking her head. Her eyes were glossy, lower lip trembling.
"You might have to."
.
"Call me, okay? When you can." Emily smiled at her husband, embracing him quickly. Picking up their son, Mark sighed and kissed his son's cheek. "I'm not moving in to the new house 'til you're back." His weak smile caused her to cup his cheek. "And Everett's gonna miss his daddy while he's gone."
"He is, isn't he?" Mark slipped Everett back into his mother's arms. "I'm sorry I have to go."
"No, you don't apologize. You stay safe, alright?" Emily flung an arm around his neck, hugging him again from where she was on the bed. "I love you." When their lips met, their eyes slid shut and his hand tightened around brown curls before the beeping of a car broke them apart.
"That's probably Derek," Mark mumbled against her lips and she smiled to herself. Sneaking two more kisses in, he pulled away at last. "I love you, too." Her hand curled against his neck, wrinkling her nose against his. "A week. I'll be back in a week."
"Sunday can't come soon enough," she replied and he hugged her once more before he took his suitcase and left their flat.
.
The week passed in relative ease. Her return to work was normal, April happily passing the reins though they still shared some workloads. Derek and Noah had returned the night before without Mark, citing the man had wanted a night alone.
"I don't like it," Emily said, skeptical but Noah simply ran his hands along his sister's arms.
"He'll be okay."
Indeed he was. One drunk dial later, Emily could barely contain her sad smile when Mark had called, words slurred and breathing heavy, mumbling about how much he missed his mother and his father and her and Everett.
It was Sunday when it was time for Everett's checkup and Mark's return to Seattle. Emily had had been on an overnight shift. Exhausted and having just met the babysitter who had brought Everett to her for the checkup, she carried her son up to the peds ward. At least she could get some hours of sleep in before Zola's birthday party. Spotting Alex passing her, she called after him.
"Hey! You busy?"
Alex, chewing on his chips, shook his head before continuing down the hall.
"Alex, can you just check his eyes?" Emily hoisted her son in her arms and the man stared down at his chips before up at his friend."How can you ignore this face for chips?"
"Go to a pediatrician. I'm hungry."
"No thanks." Her voice snapped in the air like a whip, causing Alex to pause— "I'm tired, I smell, and I want to go home. So can you please check his eyes?" For a moment, Alex grumbled to himself then walked towards her, plucking the tiny boy from his mother's arms. "Thank you! I didn't want to go to the pediatrician's."
"Just because all your friends are doctors doesn't mean you can get free check-ups. There's a system for a reason," Alex said and Emily couldn't help but smile.
"Oh, whatever."
Everett grabbed at the torch from Alex's breast pocket, sticking it in his mouth. Surrendering the flashlight, Alex flashed a slight smile and brought him to an exam room. Sitting on the table, Emily secured Everett in her lap as Alex sat down on a stool before her. Examining her son's eyes and ears, Alex rolled around on the stool. "He's fine. Healthy."
"That's great." Alex pulled off his gloves and bared his teeth at her son, making him giggle. "Isn't that great, bug?" Everett clapped and Alex laughed, his smile growing.
"He's getting big."
"You know it. Say hi to Uncle Alex, Ev." Tickling the kid's cheek, Alex made a wacky face at him. "You get anything for Zola yet? The party's tonight," she reminded and the look of slight panic and shock made Emily stifle a laugh. "You didn't get one yet, did you? You live with her!"
"Mer's not gonna kill me for that."
"Uhm, no." Heading out of the exam room, Emily shrugged. "I just thought you'd be considerate." Snorting, Alex glanced at his phone. "Have a place to be?"
"Nah. Yang stole my surgery but Kepner just texted me. Free cake in the conference room."
"Ooh, cake! Lead the way!" Following after him eagerly, Emily's mouth nearly watered at the thought of food. The conference room was semi-full, people cutting into the cake. April was inside, taking down a banner that said Happy 10,000 and with a flash of recognition, Emily frowned.
"Why's the party cancelled?"
"Stuff," the redhead responded vaguely. "Help yourself to cake." April paused in the rolling of the banner to see Everett who was squirming at all the strangers. Clinging onto his mom, he buried his face in her hair. Strangers did not sit well with him now. She made a mental note and cut herself a piece of cake, sitting in one of the office chairs.
"No party?" Turning around, she saw Hunt standing there, confused as she was when she first walked in.
"Cancelled. Help yourself to cake," April repeated her earlier words, continuing to roll up the banners as one of the janitors got down from their ladder to help the redhead clean up. Emily dipped her fork in some icing, offering it to her son who gave the fork a hearty suck. Pecking his cheek, she took another bite. The cake was so good.
"Karev, why aren't you still in McQueen's surgery?" the Chief continued as Alex, who had just gotten a slice on his own plate picked up a fork.
"Oh, uh, Altman and, uh, Yang took that." He dug the utensil into the moist cake as Everett reached for more icing. Scooting closer to the conference room table, she dipped her fork in more icing and gave him a field day. She'd have to be extra diligent in the next few days considering his meal but she thought it was a special occasion. Everett missed his papa and this made it less likely for him to be fussy until Mark came home.
"What?" All three of the residents looked to the Chief who spun around.
"I could be wrong."
Emily pulled out her phone as Everett smashed his hand into her slice of cake and then smattered frosting and crumbs into his face. Answering the phone, she clutched it between her cheek and her shoulder and grabbed a napkin with her free hand. Holding her son's arm, Emily wiped away the remnants of the frosting and cake bits from his hand and then his face.
"Hello?"
"Hey." Her husband sounded somber but remarkably more lively than she had last heard from him. "I just landed."
"Are you hungover?" she asked, knowing him so very well. Mark chuckled on the other end and made a noise that sounded a lot like 'yeah'. "Okay. I'm off shift so I can drive to the airport if you want or do you wanna take a cab?"
"We can meet at the apartment."
"Okay," she whispered into the phone and Mark sighed. "Mark, we'll move into the new house together. I don't want to do it without you." This smile in his voice could be heard as he spoke his next words.
"Okay. See you in a bit, jailbait."
.
Arriving at Meredith's house, Mark and Emily shed their jackets. Everett wore a comfy little blazer and pants. Holding onto the present, she glanced down to look at her toeing off her shoes. Mark's hand steadied her on her back and he pecked her temple before taking the present and heading into the living room.
Bringing Everett in, she saw Taylor and headed over to where he was hovering near the foods tables.
"Hey, Taylor."
"Hey, Em." His smile came easy and he wore a nice, navy blue sweater that brought out his eyes. "Who's this handsome man? Look at you, Ev!" Emily grinned, hitching Everett higher up into her arms.
"Can I steal a moment here?" Mark appeared with a glass of red and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Ever since his return from New York, she hadn't seen a real smile on her husband's face. Taylor nodded and backed off. "This is for you." Taking the glass and exchanging it for her son, she took a sip.
"Mark, are you sure you're okay?" Cupping his cheek, she frowned thoughtfully. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment and then they opened again. He leaned forward to kiss her lips and she allowed him to.
"I'll be fine. Just… give me time." Mouthing an 'okay', she patted his cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth before leaving. Mark watched her go for a moment then turned to the foodstuff on the tables.
"Can I ask you something?" A new voice made him look up.
"Shoot, Lex." Taking a plate, he began to put food on. Tilting his head, he tried to figure out what Emily would like and added some of what she'd like too. Lexie began babbling and he smiled at her. Letting Little Grey ramble was one of his favourite things to do. It made him wise, made him feel like he knew what he was doing. However, when things turned to talk of a specific blond trauma surgeon, Mark felt his heart plummet at the feeling Lexie was feeling. It was the exact same hollowness that was in his heart, the hole his father had left behind.
A/N: Thank you for over 400 followers! There'll be a special chapter 75 so stay tuned.
Next: Studying for the boards, a clip of newspaper, and Valentine's day.