66. Midnight

I was raised by parents who weren't very interested in having kids.

-Mark Sloan

If Mark was to make a list on what he loved about his wife, he'd need yards and yards of paper. In the number one spot, he'd think it'd be her unfailing kindness, her smile, her will to fight for the people she loved, the way she snored when she was exhausted, the way even the sight of her took his breath away...

Second would be harder. What made him love her but just a bit less than the things above? Her hair that she fought with on occasion, her selflessness, the way she operated, her brilliant mind and how it worked, her stubbornness, the arch of her neck, the way she knew him inside and out, and by God, the absolutely perfect way her spine curved out into that ass.

Third would be the her sarcasm, wit, and how good she was at sex because, come on, with Mark Sloan as your partner, you could not go wrong.

This list was getting hard. He knew somewhere, among the faded lines of first, second, and third, was her unending support for him and the way she never failed to tell him she loved him. Now, as she traced absent circles on his pec without speaking, their skins layered in sweat and their bare bodies pressed together, he felt the warmth of her love filling him like nothing else could. Her leg splayed across his hips and her arm pressed flat against his chest, wrapping around his chest.

"I love you, Mark."

"Where's this coming from?" She laughed against his chest, kissing his jaw. "Not that I don't not like post-sex confessions, but…"

"Just felt like saying it. When I look at you, it sometimes comes up."

"So romantic," he cooed and she swatted at him. "Believe me, the very same thought occurs whenever I see you operate. You're just so sexy in scrubs." She rolled onto her side and he followed after, spooning her back as his mouth whispered over the curve of her neck. "Sorry we couldn't find a house." She chuckled, playing with one of his hands that was draped over her side.

"I don't care."

"You do a bit."

"No, I don't."

"Eh… yeah, you do." She looked away and he laughed, kissing a spot behind her ear.

"We've been preoccupied. I've been basically living in the hospital and I never get to see you." There was something so soothing about feel of her skin against his. The sound of her voice admitting he was right caused him to smirk.

"Well, I'm making chicken with Arizona tonight, if that's incentive to come home early."

"You know you're going to have to talk to him eventually. He has a malignant sarcoma and he's been going under radiation treatment. Mark, there's gonna be a day that your dad won't be here anymore and it might be sooner than you think."

"I'd rather stay in bed."

"Did I say that was an option?" she muttered and he groaned. She reached for the clock on the nightstand and turned it just so. Midnight shone back at them in glaring red. "I have a shift in three hours and I'm on your service."

"I'll take Ev to daycare and meet you there. Make rounds and replace the dressings in the burn unit. You know what needs to do what." Her smile was slight. "When do you get off?"

"Tomorrow at noon so I can't have your chicken anyways. I can cook dinner and take Ev out of daycare for a few hours before you get back. Then I have some Chief Res stuff to do and I'll just oversee any critical patients you have. You need to talk to him." Getting up, she picked up her sleeping robe and tied it around herself as he rolled onto his stomach, watching her go. "Text me if you really need me, okay?"

"Always do." She smiled, running over to kiss him chastely. When that wasn't enough, his hand brought her down for a few more kisses. "Have a good day, alright? I'll see you soon."

"You too."

.

""Does Bailey know you're kidnapping her mice?" Emily asked as Meredith flipped through her notes. Opening the drawer, she took out a candy bar and peeled the bar before hopping on the couch.

"No. I prefer it to stay that way."

"Dr. Moore," a nurse called, poking their head around the corner. Emily sat up as the nurse continued, "Dr. Sloan's asking if you've ran labs on Erik Schultz?"

"Yeah, they're in his chart and I sent him a text regarding the case." The nurse nodded before leaving as Meredith huffed.

"Look at you. He sent a nurse to deliver a message instead of summoning you. Talk about favouritism," the blonde teased and Emily rolled her eyes.

"I'm his wife. I deserve a little favouritism considering I gave birth to his spawn. You know last night was the first time we had sex in like… eons"

"I hate you. You and Sloan get to work together and still manage not to fight." Sighing, Emily frowned and stopped eating on her snack.

"Yeah, but that means I don't see him. Since I got Chief Resident, I've been working all the time. Maybe we don't argue because we have other things on our mind. Besides, I think we've had enough arguing for a while," she admitted, thinking back to just before their marriage. Checking her phone when it buzzed, she sighed when it was a text from Jackson confirming he could tour tomorrow. "Hey, can you lead post-rounds tomorrow? Lexie's leading pre-rounds and I have Jackson on touring med students."

"Yeah, sure."

April came in. Meredith turned and began to explain something about the mice rejecting islet cells. Getting up, she bit off the end of the chocolate bar and threw the wrapper into the waste bin. "Clean this up when you're done," she ordered, waving a hand at the mess of her room. "I am not running a pitstop for a biker gang."

.

Mark waited until his dad woke up, closing the chart when he stirred. He sighed, getting up and setting the chart on the table at the end of the bed. Altman was to operate after a final set of scans in two days time. The tumor was shrinking remarkably. It was almost a miracle.

"Mark?" Richard Sloan's eyes opened to meet his son's cool gaze. "What are you doing here?" Turning to close the door, he locked it and pulled up a chair.

"I'm here to talk."

"I thought… you made it clear you didn't want to-"

"I'd do anything for my wife. She's the only reason I'm here. She thinks that if we talk about our feelings and problems, we'll be fine. But what we have, we can't fix." He took a deep breath, twisting his wedding ring on his finger. "Emily's made me a better person, and she's still hopeful. I'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt. What are you doing here, Dad?"

"I wanted to see you. You're still my son, even if you don't think you are," he replied calmly and Mark sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"So you get into a crash and the first time in years we've talked, is when I find out you have a malignant sarcoma that's metastasized to the lungs, liver and kidney. Great first impression." Mr. Sloan was quiet and Mark continued, "Who knows?"

"No one. Since your mom died—" Mark stiffened at the thought. All these years and the sound of those words strung together was like a knife carving into his chest— "I've been alone. Haven't really found someone who can tolerate me enough to stay." A laugh, cold and harsh, bubbled in his chest but Mark stuffed it down and he snorted instead. "Janet was one of a kind. I'd assume your wife is the same?"

"If I lost her, I wouldn't know how to function," admits the younger Sloan. Similar to how Richard Sloan had broke down once his wife had passed, Mark thought. "But… I'd keep it together for my son."

"Mark… I tried the best I could."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about that. You and Mom always went to these parties. That was fine by me. But at least she was the one who picked me up from Grandma's on weekends." He looked to the ground, refusing to stare at the man before him in the eye. "I didn't even know she died for three days. You didn't even tell me - I had to learn from Grandma that some guy stabbed my mom to death just because he could."

"Mark-"

"She was my mom." The stinging in his eyes made him blink hard and he found himself feeling much younger than he was. "You don't get any excuses for what it was like after she was gone. It was hell."

"I tried the best I could."

"You didn't." The two words came out through gritted teeth. "You just thought you had an excuse for ignoring your son."

"Mark." A new voice made him turn around and he saw Derek leaning against the doorframe. Noah was beside him and he stood, wiping his hands on his lab coat. "Come on." Going over to his friends, he brushed away stray tears from his cheeks. A hand rested on his shoulder and Noah's face appeared before him.

"We have a surgery in an hour," the older Moore reminded gently and Mark breathed in deeply, the fire he had been feeling simmering down. "I can send Emily to do pre-op. She is on your service and you wouldn't have to worry. Besides, I think Jay likes her." Mark rubbed a hand over his face and rolled his shoulders back as they walked through the halls. Spotting the nurse's station, he perked up.

"I'll meet her there. Can you page Dr. Moore 703 to room 413?"

"Right away."

"Thanks." He turned to his two friends. They still gazed at him in concern and he struggled with a new topic. "How's your mom?"

"Eh." Noah allowed it to slide for which Mark was grateful. "I've been avoiding the room since someone let it slip that I'm actually related to her." Sheepish, Mark shrugged with a smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "As for the surgery, Derek, I hope you've got something."

"I do, but I still need to wring out the kinks. Lexie's… still tryna keep up." The neurosurgeon's slight frustration was clear as day and Noah let out a laugh, crossing his arms.

"Don't let Jacks hear that. He worships the land she steps on," said Mark.

"Dr. Shepherd, Dr. Grey's asking for you." Turning, the three attendings looked at a nurse. Derek sighed, following after her. Mark watched him go before glancing at Noah.

"I should probably head for the kid before Em yells at me. See you in an hour, Noah." Slapping him on the arm, the plastic surgeon brushed past him and walked for the elevator. His mind was troubled but he wouldn't let it show.

.

Debriding the burns along the patient's leg, Emily smiled behind her mask at the man who groaned in pain.

"Is there really no other way?"

"Nope." He laughed uneasily as she slowly peeled away a fragment of skin. Putting it in the metal container, she watched as the blood flow made the skin underneath a healthier tone and set down her tools. Covering the shin completely, she made sure that the dressing was layered on and stood.

"Rest. A nurse will come by to change the dressings in a few hours. Until then, reflect on life." He gave her a thumbs up and she walked towards the bins, tearing off her gloves and gown. Pager beeping, she unclipped it from her belt and saw the special page her and Mark shared.

703 - 413

.

"Did you ever talk to him?" Emily asked and Mark paused for a moment.

"Hm… yeah." He avoided her eyes and Noah glanced up at him. "Skin graft." Taking the flap from the metal tray, she gently layered it over the kid's infected foot. "Good. That fits perfectly." Beginning to sew it up, Mark made sure Emily got good perimeters. "You know it's not too late to change to plastics."

"And become as by the books as you?" she mumbled behind her mask, cutting the thread. Her smile could be heard and he silently let out a relieved sigh she couldn't tell he was preoccupied. "I don't think so."

"You're hurting his feelings," Noah scolded by the abdomen before asking for more suction. "Who made you mean when I wasn't looking?"

"You live in Boston. I've had a bunch of time to be mean." Emily sighed once she was finished and Mark double-checked her work.

"We're done here. Noah, you need extra hands?"

"Nope. You guys can go."

The husband and wife left the O.R., scrubbing out. Emily's eyes rested on Mark. She could tell he was hiding something. Wiping her hands on a towel, she watched him grab a towel for himself.

"Can you tell me?" Damn. Maybe he wasn't as slick as he thought he was.

"Maybe when you come home," he said, not looking at her and she nodded. Hand on his shoulder, she pushed herself up to kiss his cheek before throwing the towel in a bin and walking out.

.

"April… you know you didn't have to do that." Emily flipped over the sheet, reading over the schedules. They were color-coded and everything and normally she'd be more genuine but after a long surgery with Taylor, she couldn't deal with it.

"You've been so busy lately, I just thought that maybe you could use some help. Page me if there are any discrepancies." Smiling, she rubbed April's arm and the redhead left. Emily ran a hand down the O.R. schedules and entered her office. Hanging up her lab coat, she took out her phone and set it on the table. Collapsing on her couch, she sighed heavily and tossed the clipboard onto the table as well.

Running her hands over her face, Emily released her hair from its ponytail before glancing at the clipboard. Lying down, she rolled away from it and faced the back cushions, using one of the on-call pillows she'd stolen. Just as her eyes began to close, her phone rang and she blindly reached for it. It was Mark calling to FaceTime.

"Hey," she whispered about answering the phone. The brightness kind of stung her eyes as she squinted against the already dimmed screen. He was walking somewhere but she couldn't tell due to how dimly lit it was. "Wasn't there supposed to be chicken making?" Mark raised his eyebrows at her but she only blinked. "What?"

"Em, it's ten at night. Why would I be making a chicken at this hour?" he inquired a bit harshly and she glanced at the time in the upper right corner. She hadn't even realized. God, they must both be exhausted.

"Are you okay?" she asked, a bit nonplussed.

"I just wanna see you." He said and she sat up, snuggling against the couch. He was wearing his leather jacket he hadn't worn in years - not since they first met. It brought back memories.

"That's cute," she teased half-heartedly in an attempt to make him smile, eyes drifting close before snapping open. His face didn't even twitch. "You've seen me now. Can I hang up?"

"No." He stopped and looked up just as she heard a knock at the door. It clicked open and she raised her head. "I want to talk to you about my mom." Mark stood at the other end of the couch, light from the hallway seeping in. Hanging up, he pocketed his phone as she returned hers to its place on the table. He shed his jacket and kicked off his shoes, closing the door and locking it before sliding onto the couch with her. Now alert, she made room for him as he sat by her feet. Grabbing her ankles, he slowly extended her legs across his lap and she lays down.

"You don't have to-"

"I feel like I do." Propping herself up on her elbows, she frowned. Hand on her ankle, he leaned over to kiss her lips. His other hand cupping her face, he stared into her eyes, dead serious. There was something vulnerable about the flickering in them and she stroked his face, nodding. Kissing him, she brought him closer and he crawled up against her. Shifting so he could slide in on the inside between her and the couch, she let him rest his head on her chest. His arms wrapped around her waist.

Hands running through his hair, Emily glanced down at him. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," she reminded one last time but he didn't reply.

"My mom died when I was young. It wasn't even… I don't remember that day because I didn't know she died until three days later. I… I think it was sunny but it could've been cloudy and I was at school. I-it was a Friday but it could've been any other day of the week. I went to Derek's house like I did after school and then my grandma picked me up after dinner. That's what makes me think it was a Friday. That was normal - my parents went out on Fridays but then again, they went out a lot every day because I was the least of the worries so my grandma sometimes picked me up from home so I wouldn't feel so alone.

"I stayed at her house for three days and that was weird. Normally, she'd drive me home or to school but I don't think there… that there was school. It was the weekend so Mom would pick me up Saturday afternoon—" Over time, his voice had grown thick and she felt something in her chest tighten in sympathy— "and she never came. Gran was crying but I thought it was because she was watching one of her stupid soaps. It took me three days to know she was dead. I - I didn't understand why my grandma had to tell me that she was dead. My mom never hurt anyone - she was innocent. She wasn't the best mom, but she was what I had and I never even said goodbye. She was just gone."

When he stopped talking, Emily waited for him to continue before realizing it was because he was crying. Tears dampened her shirt as she hugged him closer and he let out a sob. Throat closing, she kissed his hair and held him tight, not knowing what to say - unable to say anything at all.

A/N: Edited - December 2, 2018

Next: Put me in, coach.