14. Her Prince and the Ball

Emily believed all the interns thanked God that Bailey knew prom. Silver and white was a good theme. Of course, Emily's own prom was along the lines of awkwardly standing there while everyone of her friends had a date. She did, of course, have one but it was where they didn't really want to be there. Like they were friends, sure, but ones that occasionally said hi in the hallways. At least in her mind. He apparently had had a crush on her. But that was in the past, and she needed to help with the prom. Of course, George and Alex had already ordered balloons and streamers and Meredith was pondering over food and the space of where the prom was but there was also the music, the stereo system, and a DJ.

As she scrolled on the internet for the available services, she absently checked her phone. Four missed calls, one from Theresa and three from Mark. Furrowing her brow, she dialled his phone number, wondering why he was calling her. She always told him when she was on call… then it hit her. She wasn't suppose to be on call, in fact, she was just about to go to the locker room when last night happened. Sighing, she stared at the words on the computer screen, slowly blanking out.

"Look who's crawling back," a familiar voice drawled.

"I regret calling you already," She shot back, snapping out of her daze. "I regret life at the moment, actually. What's up with you that you needed to call me three times?"

"Ah, so the usual," he quipped before contemplating his answer. "Text me your address, I'll be there in a few hours."

"I'm texting you what now?" she asked in a harsh whisper, blinking hard when she realized that the computer was starting to burn her eyes. He seemed to smirk and Emily could definitely hear it in his voice.

"I know you heard me." A distant, booming voice caused a pause and the brunette could vaguely hear a flight number.

"Well, you have to prepare yourself because there's a prom," she blurted out in an attempt to dissuade him to come. Hopefully he'd think it's too childish. There was a long silence and she pulled the phone away from her ear to make sure that he was still on the line and then he finally answered.

"A prom."

"Yeah, a prom."

"Remind me to get a tux and a corsage, too. See you in a few hours, jailbait."

"Wait, what?" She asked, uncomprehendingly. Mark was coming to Seattle just in time for prom. Just in time to take her to prom. Oh, shit. The need to really take this seriously overtook her. Like she had to impress him.

This was so stupid.

"I'm coming to Seattle," he said slowly, "and now I'm taking you to prom."

"Yeah, I - but why? I don't like you!" Spotting Derek's tired expression, she quickly changed her tone.

"You love me," he sang and she let out a sound. "We're going as friends, Moore. Don't worry."

"Yes. Uhm, yeah, of course." The neurosurgeon sent her a glance as she added, "That would be fantastic, goodbye."

"What-" His confused tone was cut off as she ended the call, sliding the phone into her pocket and focusing on the screen again. Giving him a small grin, he passed by her, unsuspicious that she was talking amicably to his ex-best friend. Still, she kept her phone underneath the desk as she texted Sloan her address. When it was done, she brought the phone back up to a normal position. Sighing, she dialled her sister in law's phone number, smiling when the woman picked up, her gentle voice soothing her worries away.

.

When she was first 'summoned' to the conference room, Emily felt a slight weight of dread. But as she sat down in that chair in front of the Chief of Surgery, it vanished and the chain on her mouth was easy to lock up. Mentally throwing away the key, she stared, raising an eyebrow in a you can't make me talk kind of way until minutes passed. The clock behind him ticked slowly, second by second.

"I don't have anyone to ask to prom," she finally said, clasping her hands together and twiddling her thumbs. "Mind you, I'm not going with Alex." An image of Mark flashed in her mind. "Someone did ask me and I didn't say no but he's coming anyways, so I can't really stop him. You know, maybe I won't mind him. We've known each other for about a month now? We talk on the phone every week and text, like, every day. I would say we're dating because that's what it sounds like, but we're not. We're just friends. He's a surgeon, just like I am, so he understands crazy hours." And now the more she thought about it, Emily knew he understood more than just her crazy hours. "He's - I've never met anyone like him. So, maybe I won't mind taking him to prom. How about you, Dr. Webber?"

"Dr. Moore-"

"That's the thing, Dr. Webber. This-" She gestured around them- "is useless. I'm not going to talk and we're both wasting our times here when we could be out there doing our jobs. So until you can say I can go, I am going to make small talk about the prom and how my friend is taking me and he's getting a corsage and everything." The brunette finished with a smile and a slight tilt of her head. He was silent for a few moments, staring before uttering a single syllable.

"Go."

"Thank you sir, good day," It was almost sarcastic, coming out of her mouth as she stood and swung the door open, leaving and taking out her phone to do the math on how long it'd be before he was in Seattle. He should be arriving in four and a half hours hours. Great. Time for her to prepare for prom.

.

Taking out a simple dress, she pressed it against her chest and looked at her reflection. It was sleeveless, a white bodice ombreing slowly to a night black. Contrasting it to another, this one a eminence shade of purple, it's off-the-shoulder sleeves a translucent material rimmed with a solid tone. It was floor length, flowing and fanning slightly from her waist, compared to the more swishy material that would brush against her legs. Frowning, she continued to switch, pressing each hanger against her collarbone. The battle in her mind continued to find differences, balancing each detail on an imaginary scale.

And what about my hair? she thought distastefully, glaring at her reflection's wet hair tied up in a towel. But, if I go with the black and white, I have more jewellry to work with. But then, purple was always a good color on me and that purple eyeshadow I bought a few months ago would look good, she mused. Plus, that necklace Noah got me for my first prom, I still have it. Then, she realized, Why am I taking this so seriously?

Finally deciding on the purple off-shoulder dress, she dried her hair, curling it in much more exaggerated curls than her normal loose ones. Staring at her reflection in the bathroom, she decided to leave it down, letting it spill over one shoulder as she picked up a makeup brush and applied as little as possible. Dusting pink across her cheeks and swiping a pale shade of lipstick across her mouth, she searched for her eyeshadow. Finding it easily, the brunette colored her eyes and lined them. A bit overdone, but hey, it was prom. Stark naked, she unzipped her dress and stepped in. Pulling it up, she was careful not to pull any seams. As the dress finally snugged her waist and hips properly, the brunette reached around to pull up her zipper before sighing at the most obvious problem.

She couldn't zip it all the way up.

Deciding to just find someone, any one of the other interns to help her at the prom, she took out a jewellry case, a gemstone necklace sitting in a chunk of velvet. Noah had bought it for her, all those years ago. Smiling nostalgically, she took it out and was about to put it on when she noted her phone. It was sitting near the charger where she was sure to forget it if she didn't do anything about it now. Grabbing her device, Emily placed it in her clutch and rushed into the living room, trying to haphazardly pin her necklace around her neck. Sighing in frustration, she paused for a second before there was a knock on the door.

.

Mark got out from the taxi, glancing up at the drab building. It was bland but stable, lacking any color except the drab grey and few windows. To the right was the entrance for the garage but he walked forward towards the lobby, smiling charmingly at the receptionist and managing to convince her to allow him to the third floor. Checking his phone for the text, he glanced along the numbers, walking slowly until he stopped on a graved 39.

Swallowing, he rapped his knuckles against the door whilst keeping one hand behind his back. The door opened, revealing a rather disgruntled brunette who snapped a quick "What?" She seemed to be fiddling with something around her neck before he realized that a flashing purple gemstone rested on her sternum.

"Need some help with that?" He asked amusedly, watching her head slowly raise up with an embarrassed flush.

"Sloan. Come on in," she managed weakly, letting him walk in. He trailed her figure, noting the unzipped back of her dress. "And yeah, sorry," Walking over, he took the jewellry gently from her fingers and wrapped it around her neck, silently asking for her to raise her curls. Complying, she waited patiently for him to clip it. He did so quickly but as she turned around, he placed a hand on her waist, prompting her to stay put.

"You need some help with that, too?" he questioned teasingly, pulling the zipper up easily in a nonchalant manner.

"Yeah, thanks." She turned, pulling at her fingers. "What are you doing here?" Showing her what was in his other hand, he smiled. She shook her head but there was a sliver of a smile as he took her hand.

"Moore, would you like to go to prom with me?"

"You're so lame," she mumbled as he slipped the corsage on. Somehow, he had known purple would be the colour of the dress and she raised an eyebrow.

"How did you know to pick purple?"

"I know things," he said. "Lucky guess." Laughing, she adjusted the corsage admiringly. It was a small bouquet of purple and white flowers, perfect for her. When she glanced up at him again, she saw him looking at her with those blue eyes. "You look perfect, Moore," he whispered and she tried to find some lie or something fake in those words but found none. "Every time I see you, you just turn it up a notch."

There it was.

"You had to cheapen it."

"It's my thing," he said, flashing a smile. "Come on, I gotta go pick up my tux and you have to pick out my boutonnière." Smiling disbelievingly, Emily took out a box for her heels and slipped them on. Grabbing her clutch, she turned and reached for the door.

"I'm picking out your boutonnière," she repeated, voice breathy for the laugh bubbling in her throat. He nodded, joining her at the door. He opened it for her and she wrinkled her nose at him before the two started heading down the hall. "For the record, we are not friends." He gaped at her, vaguely offended. Nudging her, he caught her when he realized he had done it too hard. Bursting into laughter, she held onto his grey sweater as he slithered a hand around her waist to stabilize her.

"Sorry."

"And that is why we're not friends," she announced, digging a finger into his chest. He pulled a face before chuckling.

"Let's just get to prom."

.

"Jailbait!" he called out to the brunette in the purple dress, fixing the dark purple tie around his neck. Pulling down his collar, he stopped in front of her, putting his hands in his coat pockets. She stood, flashing a smile as she fiddled with a flower in her hands. It was something hastily bought, with a cluster of white flowers at the base and she weaved it into his lapel.

"There. Now, we're perfect," she teased as he offered his arm to her. Her eyes studied him for a second and the plastics surgeon smiled because she was right.

"Oh, you always look perfect," he told her honestly. Immediately, she rolled her eyes and he felt a pang in his gut he didn't know the meaning of. "I mean it."

"Well, you look like a prince," she quipped, resting her temple to his shoulder for a fraction of a second before they reached the car. Driving quickly to the hospital, the need to fulfill her joke as a humorous act filled him and he dashed out of the car, opening her door for her. "Why," she gasped, "thank you,"

"You're welcome, princess," he teased, bending down and offering her a hand. "The ball awaits," he declared dramatically. Letting out a chuckle, she nodded and placed her hand in his. Their palms fit perfectly as he helped her out of the car and lead her into the hospital after locking the car.

"Indeed it does!"

.

Swaying with her supposed 'date', Emily shushed him with a finger to the lips. "This is dangerous," she whispered, eyeing the couples near them. Derek and Addison were dancing but the brunette could spot the neurosurgeon staring at Meredith and vice versa. Feeling as if she were an intruder, she gazed at Mark, who was a respectable distance away.

"I think you know I live on the wild side of danger," he said, stepping in time with the music. Her dress was easy for her to maneuvered in and their steps were slow and easy, trying to acquaint themselves with each other's presence. Despite his rather womanizing ways, Emily found herself content when near him, conversation flowing easily between them and he had refrained from flirting after she had given him a wicked glare. "You know," he started, drawing her away from her musings.

"Yeah?"

"It hurts." The words were raw even in its hushed tone and she tilts her head up at him. Her hands rest on her shoulder, but in that moment trailed up to his jaw fleetingly before pulling away. "To be this close to Addison and not say anything,"

"Because you can't," she said knowingly. "Do you need some time to-"

"No," he answered forcefully, out from his clenched jaw. "it's easier with you. It just feels better." It was clear he didn't understand why but she just allowed him to pull her closer until she could hear the beating of his heart. "It feels better," he repeated.

"It feels better," she whispered, her throat closing at the pain in his voice. To love someone so much only for them to run into another person's arms. She didn't know the hurt herself but it was easy enough to imagine. But what she did know was that meeting that person that just made you forget your pain was life-changing. Wrapping her arms around his chest, she hugged him tightly, feeling his breath fan across her neck as they just stood there, swaying ever so slightly. "Mark,"

"Hmm?"

Pulling her head away, she blinked at him before placing her head back on his chest. "No matter what happens, I'm here."

He was quiet for a moment and then she felt his nose in her hair and a whisperered "Thank you."

.

"It's Izzie" Cristina tapped her on the shoulder, breaking Emily's conversation with Mark. The asian woman stared at the man for a split second before remembering the situation at hand. "Izzie, it's Izzie,"

"What happened?"

"It's about Denny." Cold water washed over her whole body and she looked for a place to set down her drink. Mark extended a hand and she smiled gratefully at him.

"Sloan, I'm sorry, but-" He nodded.

"Go, I'll see you later." The man squeezed her arm once before slipping into the crowd. Sending an apologetic, yet grateful smile his way, she let Cristina lead her through the crowd. The two ran as fast as they could, meeting with George at the room. Olivia was there, a somber expression across her face.

"I didn't know what to do, I didn't think you guys would want me to go to the Chief-" Olivia stuttered, fidgeting.

"Where is she?" Cristina asked quietly. The nurse murmured that she was in there with him and they pushed themselves in, gathering around the bed. The pure heartbreak in the Izzie's normally lively brown eyes sliced through Emily's resolve. The pale man was no longer the picture of happiness but of death, his muscles limp and relaxed and his chest still.

"Izzie,"

"I think it was a stroke," she began, her voice dull, flat, dead. "He was prone to blood clots. A clot could have formed on his sutures, travelled to his brain. It only takes a second." Her voice nearly faded out as she breathed calmly. Izzie's fingers curled around Denny's gown as she stared off into space.

"Iz…"

"Dr. Hahn did a beautiful job on the surgery, but I don't know why I didn't think of blood clots. He died all alone. He was alone," she continued as if she didn't hear Meredith, staring at the floor, at their feet.

"There was nothing you could've done," George murmured. Inwardly, Emily grimaced. It was something surgeons said in condolence but it sounded so different on the other end. We never know what it really sounds like until we're on the other end, she thought grimly.

"I changed my dress three times. I wanted to look nice. I would have been here sooner but I couldn't figure out which dress to wear." Her eyes grew rimmed with red as George stepped closer.

"Izzie, we shouldn't be in here," Cristina said.

"You can't blame yourself," Emily said.

"Iz, there are things that they need - they need to move him." Meredith said as gently as she could.

"Take him to the morgue," Izzie said in full understanding as Cristina stepped forward.

"You can't stay here. I know you want to-"

"Can you please, please just get out?" The heartbroken blonde asked, her eyelashes fluttering, "I want to be alone with Denny,"

"Iz." The syllable Emily said was full of anguish. She didn't know what to say. What do you say when one of your friends had lost the one who loved her most? Not one of them moved when Alex entered the room, his face contorted in sympathy. Walking to Denny's bedside, Alex ignored her watery voice but she protested.

"An hour ago, he was proposing. And now, now he's going to the morgue. Ridiculous, isn't it? Isn't that the most ridiculous piece of crap you've ever heard?" Her voice broke, sobs tearing out of her throat. Ribbons of tears traced down her cheeks, one after another until they raced down her nose and jaw. Whispering words into the blonde's ear, he picked her up and settled into a chair near the bed, letting the woman sob into his jacket.

Swallowing, Emily felt her throat close and bruise as she held in tears. Blinking hard, she felt her eyes sting. Feeling someone move beside her, she knew Cristina left.

After what felt like an eternity, Izzie's sobs faded, her irregular breathing slowed. Untangling herself from Alex, she stood, staring emptily in front of her. Walking out, they followed behind her steadily, ready to catch her if she were to fall. Beside her, Meredith had her eyes on the floor and Emily knew that there was something on her mind other than what had transpirede just now.

They walked in a dazed pack until they reached their resident and chief and continued, past them for a few more strides until Izzie stopped, turning around. Emily barely registered that Derek's eyes followed Meredith's form before looking away guiltily when Izzie turned around. She admitted it, the confession shaky and honest, staring directly into Dr. Webber's eyes.

"I thought I was a surgeon, but I can't. I thought I was a surgeon but I am not. So I quit," She walked away, ignoring Bailey's call. Keeping up with the taller woman, Emily, Alex and George filed behind her, down the staircase to the empty check-in area. Their footsteps were amplified by the silence of the hospital in their area, making to the parking lot.

"I'll drive," George murmured, taking out his keys. "You guys go home, I'll make sure she's okay," Swallowing, Emily nodded, opening the door for Izzie as Alex helped her settle in, patting her shoulder. As the engine roared to live, she slammed it shut and they stepped back, letting them drive off.

"Alex," she started quietly.

"Em, God," He looked heavenward, planting his hands on his hips. "I'll see you tomorrow?" He tried to say weakly.

"I'm off tomorrow,"

"Right." He seemed disarmed, walking to his own car.

"Alex." Her tone said what her words couldn't as he merely nodded numbly and ducked into his car. Turning around, she made her way slowly back to the hospital.

A/N: Edited - September 2, 2018