Hi peeps!
I'm making a random and sporadic appearance in hopes that some of you a.) watch the Young and the Restless and/or General Hospital and b.) know of a fan fic community or have recs for either of the following ships and/or characters: Y&R--Adam, Billy, Collen, Cain, Chloe, and Lilly. GH: Maxie with either Johnny, Jason, or Lucky. If I'm gonna be specific, I think that the potential of Y&R's Adam and Colleen could be all kinds of soapy goodness and I'm also loving GH's Maxie and Johnny.

If you guys could rec anything for me, I am most appreciative!

I am currently on Spring Break and therefore I've caught up with my soaps and am loving them. I hope you are all doing fabulously and since I am super shady and don't say this often enough: I LOVE YOUR WRITING! Keep it up, people! You all inspire and entertain!

Thanks! Have a fabulous holiday weekend!

Well, today I had to drive into Atlanta to go to the Apple store. My MacBook's optical drive (the dvd drive) is broken. It's the strangest thing. One day I picked it up, heard a sliding noise, and then boom! I couldn't put in a dvd. Very sad. Very tragic. I will be without my beloved electronic companion for at least three to five days. Which, in all honesty, isn't very bad! It could be worse, like, oh, I don't know...one month!

And to make the day even more trying, I got stuck in Atlanta rush hour traffic for two hours! TWO HOURS people. Two hours I'll never get back.

But oh the bright side of things, I got to try Yofuria for the first time today. It's an organic frozen yogurt place and it's delish! Yum, yum, yum!

What terrifies me the most? Tornadoes. The big, scary vortexes freak the hell out of me. There is currently one making a bee line for my sister's home and my area is currently sandwiched between two storm cells. I'm just waiting for the warning to fly down into my basement. This is one of the times I'm actually thankful to live at home.

The skies are so dark and I'm hearing rumbling in the distance. Pray for us.

The United States of Tara is absolutely made of WIN. It is fantastic. I highly recommend it.

Also, on my second day of my week long vacation, I am reading the Harry Potter books. I am halfway through the first one. So far, so good. I just can't wait to get to the latter books because I've heard that's when they become addicting. I love addictive books.

And I was a productive citizen of the world today. No, I did not clean. Instead, I got my taxes done and I discovered I may be getting a nicely sized return. Thank you, Uncle Sam...even if you do tend to rob single people blind. Sly bastard.

I have the week off. It's glorious. I'm almost at a loss of what to do with myself. Perhaps I should take advantage of my free time and be a productive human being and really give my room a good cleaning. Let me think that one over. Nah. I think I'll pass.

What have I been doing so far on my break? Watching season 2 of "Secret Diary of a Call Girl", a marathon of "Presidents" on the History Channel (I can just feel my brain expanding with knowledge!), and looking for delicious fan fic for my some of my ships. Does anyone find it depressing when you can't find fan fic on LJ for shows or pairings you may like? I do. :/

Oh, and I also bought some pretty makeup from MAC. I love buying makeup. It makes me such a happy person.

Georgia Tech beat the University of Georgia 45 to 42! First time in 7 years!!! I am a happy woman.

...and I've got the most brutal set of cramps ever. (Sorry to put it out there, but, I'm so miserable that I don't care right now.) Currently my GT Yellow Jackets are losing to UGA, I'm bored out of my mind, and my body is betraying me. Ouch.

But on the bright side, my Ole Miss Rebels (my Alma Mater) totally killed the LSU Tigers (Geaux to hell, LSU!) and the MSU Bulldogs, 37-0, and we are going to a bowl game! Woo hoo! I love me some SEC football (except UGA. I hate them). Anyway, some of my college pals want to go to the game and now I'm just hoping I can scrounge together enough money to do it. Being a teacher, that's something I don't have a lot of unfortunately. So sad, but true.

I've also adopted a soldier! I'm pretty excited about it. It's something that I've always, always wanted to do, but I never felt that I was in a stable enough position to do it. Now I have a steady income, I'm in one place, and I'm just waiting to be matched with a soldier. I've read that it can take up to a month to happen. I'm just trying to be patient. I just can't wait to start writing letters, putting together care packages, and spoiling the heck out of my guy or gal. It's something small, but if it'll make their life a little easier, heck yes, I'm up for it!

I hope that all of you have had a wonderful Thanksgiving, weekend, and are getting ready for the holiday season! Be blessed and take care!

P.S. As I write this, GA Tech just scored a TD with a 2 point conversion. Now we're just down by 8. Go Jackets! Things are looking up afterall.

I don't know about any of y'all out there, but one of my new treats this season is HBO's "True Blood." I'm not into vampires. I have never been into them, even though I've read 3 out of the 4 Twilight books (while enjoyable, I'm not fully obsessed.) Yet, this show has made me addicted. I am now so addicted that I began reading Charlaine Harris's Southern Vampire series (that the show is based off) this weekend. There are 8 books and since Saturday afternoon, I've read the first three. I'm hooked.

And to clue you into the type of reader I am, once I get into a book/series, I cannot put the book down. I refuse to stop reading. I will fall asleep reading. Actually, I've even stayed up over 24 hours to completely read through a book I was reading. If I'm into a story, there's no way you can drag me away from it.

I am this way with the Southern Vampire books now. I went on a hunt to 3 different stores and two different libraries to try to find books 4 and 5 so I can continue my reading. NONE HAD THE BOOKS! One store had books 6 and 7, but not 4 and 5! I'm devastated people. DEVASTATED. Ugh. I guess I'm going to have to order them online and wait for them and I don't want to wait. :(

On the bright side: Taylor Swift's new album is out! YAY! I love that chick. Sure, she's about 7 years younger than me (and probably infinitely cooler), but I freaking love her music. And she's delivered on her new album. I love "White Horse." It was on Grey's too!

I've also found another person in the Hollywood world to lust after: Alexander Skarsgard. He plays Eric on True Blood. He's not his finest on that show, thanks to the 10 lbs of white, pasty make-up to make him appear dead, but that's something I can easily overlook. Especially when he wears the black wife beaters...that just happen to show of his beautifully sculpted and muscular arms. Did I mention he's 6'4"??? And Swedish? I love tall men that have well defined muscles and broad shoulders. Those features are just so--MALE. God, I love men.

Alright, I'm off to explore the world of fan fiction with an intense focus on Sookie and Eric. Yum.

Happy early Halloween, my friends!

I hope you all are excited about this weekend and have fun, amazing plans! I don't have anything too exciting going on, unfortunately, but I know that after a day of dealing with 17 adorable, energetic, hyper, excited 2nd graders I will be exhausted. Now that I think of it, I'm slightly happy I won't have any huge plans. Whew.

My dear talented LJ friends, I find myself in a bit of a pickle. I've come across a ship that I'm very gung-ho about. For some reason, I'm insanely drawn to them in the alternate universe even though I know they wouldn't work in cannon. I guess it's because if one puts their characteristics, qualities, personas, etc. down on paper, they would look like an ideal pairing...stuff fan fic dreams are made of. He's the handsome bad boy that comes from the school of hard knocks with so much potential it terrifies him. She's the goody two shoes, straight A student, beautiful virginal daughter of the high school head football coach. (If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm referring to Tim Riggins and Julie Taylor.) This just screams romance to me and I have this craving to write for them but I have no freaking clue where to start.
Maybe my fear stems from the last story I wrote that was 13 chapters long and I was so absorbed by it that I think I'm a little gun shy. I almost feel as if that my creativity is tapped out. The only rationale I have for this train of thought is that, in reflection, I got down to the nitty gritty with both characters and felt them. I got into their psyche. I knew them instinctively.

I don't know Tim. I don't know Julie. Or is it because I'm too scared to get to know them?

The point to this whole rambling bit is to ask you this (for all of you that write): Have any of you ever encountered this fear and if so, how in the hell do you get over it? Where do you get your ideas/inspirations/creativity from?

I know this is a massive post, but if any of you have a bit of advice, I'll take it.

Attention, attention to the five of you that may read this thing! I have a new tv obsession: TRUE BLOOD. It is amazing. You should check it out. Seriously. It is fantastic.


Alright, I'm back to Gossip Girl now.

P.S.
Even though I'm into dudes, I'd so go gay for Tina Fey if she asked me to. HELLO!? Sexy Sarah Palin anyone?????

I've noticed that when I'm bored, I tend to post on here. I think that's kinda sad that my livejournal has become a "last resort" to avoid boredom. Note to self: try to post more.

It's not that I don't enjoy posting because I do. It's just that sometimes I think I don't have anything overly exciting to say or it's the fact that I'm just too damn exhausted after teaching eighteen seven and eight year olds, I can't put together a single sentence. I come home, put on some PJs, turn on the tv, get in my comfy bed, and get the MacBook out. That has become my existence since August 1st, 2008. Ah, the life of a first year teacher. Surely it will get better!?! It must. It simply must.

When do the new fall shows start? I'm dying here! I need the thrill of looking forward to my favorite tv shows premiering again.

P.S.
Gas prices need to go down. NOW.

First off, I want to apologize for all of my grammar and spelling errors in the last post. I didn't proof read and my mind was rather harem-scarem (or however you spell that word.)

Whew. Got that out of the way. Now on to another one of my random posts...

People, I have a hankering for May/December romances. There. I said it. I should feel light and free, as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. And I would, too if I hadn't just eaten my weight in Garden Salsa Sun Chips (another thing that I have a hankering for..yum. So zesty and delicious! **shakes head** Back to my post.)

Now, I'm not into all May/December romances. The ones I'm usually into involve an older man and a young women (where the young lady in question is of LEGAL age and can also drink alcohol. Legally.) I think that I come by this particular taste (for lack of a better word) because my very happily married parents have somewhat of a May/December thing going on. My father is 10 years older than my mother. Really, the more I think about it, my penchant (Ah! There it is...the "better" word) for older men should be expected. I absolutely adore and worship my daddy, which explains why this should be normal because, after all, don't daughters tend to go for men like their fathers?

I just happen to find older men to be sexy as hell. They're worldly, they have experience, their not young ass holes ( but they still are ass holes. All men are ass holes. That's just a given!) and they just know who they are which is something that I'm looking for in a man. This, of course, transfers over into my love of books, soaps, movies, etc. Which leads me to mention my favorite of all time May/December duo: Lucy Montgomery and Dusty Donovan of As The World Turns.

This couple was pure magic that came out of no where. Dusty, an older man that went to the School of Hard Knocks with a shady past, rescues Miss Lucy Montgomery, a beautiful young woman of Oakdale's Creme de la Creme set, from a kidnapping. The two end up going on the run together to protect Lucy from the kidnappers (Lucy did not do this willingly, putting up a fight in the beginning.) The two basically couldn't stand each other, but through close calls and hiding out in abandoned warehouses, the two develop an unlikely bond and come to rely on each other. Lucy sees the good in him and falls for hardened man. And Dusty...he fights with every ounce of strength he has to ignore Lucy's growing feelings, but eventually his heart takes over and he falls in love with the young woman.

God, that was such a beautiful and angsty story line. Of course, Lusty ended when Peyton List decided to pursue bigger and better things and left ATWT. Here's a video that I found today on Youtube. It's seriously the only one I've found that truly captures the special qualities of Lusty:



I guess I'm bringing this up because there's a new hot doctor on Days of Our Lives, Dr. Daniel Jonas. There seems to be a lot arms up in the air because there seems to be a potential "coupledom" for him and Chelsea Brady. Now, he's only been on the canvas for a week, but there's already a lot of threads, discussions, and even montages for them! I guess it's because there is a palpable chemistry between the two actors. Dr. Jonas is played by Shawn Christian, by the way. He's very Brad Pitt-esque. **sigh** Anyway, the hubbub is about the fact that Chelsea is 21 and he's a least in his mid-30's. It doesn't help either that Chelsea has rather obviously developed a little crush for the man. To be fair, it does seem that Daniel has even shown a slight bit of interest in her as well, but that can be debatable. Is it "interest" or is it polite interest? (I also feel it important that I mention the good Dr. Jonas also has met Kate Roberts, the old village bicycle and also Chelsea's grandmother. It's also undeniable that there is chemistry there as well. Now...where in the world can this story line possibly lead to? But, this is neither here nor there in this argument.) My point is this: why should it matter about age, or the actor's age? If the chemistry is there then that should be all it takes to drive a story line. But then again, it unsettles people and I like that. It's always fun to be a little unconventional. Who wants to be boring? I know I don't.

Ok, people. I know that there are probably very view who read this thing of mine. I rarely ever post, or rather, actively participate on LJ. I lurk. I'm a lurker. It's who I am. But occasionally, I post--usually about random stuff, and today that's not going to change. Hopefully, some of you will read this and you'll actually be able to help me. You see, I have an addiction to Nikadine (it rhymes with Nicotine).

What's Nikadine? It's Nik + Nadine on General Hospital. Now, I know they're not a couple (and I don't want them to be right now.) Nik is still grieving for his dearly departed fiancee`who was brutally murdered by evil Deigo as he should be. Oh, and did I mention that he's also suffering from a tumor that alters his personality by sending him to fits of rage and that also makes him see hallucinations of dead Emily? Yeah. He does. He thinks he's going crazy and there's only one person who doesn't think so...sweet little Nadine. Nadine is cute, perky, and a little quirky. She helps him to accept the hallucinations and reassures him that he's not crazy or dangerous. She gives him much needed reality checks while being optimistic. You'd think that the two of them would be like oil and water, yet they don't. They have the most intriguing friendship developing between the two. I wish I could even begin to describe just how good it is. They're polar opposites and Nadine is putting the spark back in Nik! And they're starting to rely on each other and, and, and...I LOVE IT.

There is so much POTENTIAL for a friendship/relationship storyline to develop between these two I mean...it would be a story that would be slow, sweet, poignant, and it could become something intense and make for great story telling. Now, having said that, let me get to the reason why I'm writting this:

I need Nikadene fan fiction...like, really well written fan fic. Is there any out there? Proably not yet, but there will be I'm sure b/c people are starting to catch on to the Nikadene addiction.

Geeze, I did not need another ship to hop on to. Gah. I'll just add some fuel to the fire then. Here we go:




Enjoy.

Mmmmm...a Double Decker Taco with no lettuce (I HATE shredded lettuce--yuck!) That sounds absolutely amazing to me right now. I may have to make a quick trip to Taco Hell soon. It is dinner time after all.

So, I am the queen of procrastination. I need to be working on my graduate portfolio. That bitch is so massive that I am swallowed in anxiety and I don't want to do it. I DON'T WANNA! But, eventually, I'm going to have to grow some balls and just do it. But, until then, I'm going to distract myself with LiveJournal. Yeah.

People, I am in love! Ok, more like lust, but here you go:




Please feel free to take a minute to wipe up the drool.

Who is this beautiful man you ask? His name is Eduardo Verastegui. He was in the movie "Bella" which won the Toronot Film Festival's People Choice Award. And here is the trailer:




I haven't seen it yet, but, I plan on seeing it as soon as it comes out on DVD. I'm going to be supportive of Eduardo just like a good fiance` should be. Yep. I'm going to marry him...he just doesn't know it yet.

Ok, that was creepy. I'm going to stop with the fantasies now.

So, a lot has happened since I've last posted. I went to Mardi Gras for the first time ever. One of my good friends is from NOLA and so we went down there and met up with some other pals. I got TONS of beads and no, I did not have to show the girls. (Get your minds out of the gutter, people!) The key to success in attaining beads is to make eye contact with one of the fellas, point at him, mouth "your sexy!", and send him a wink. Worked ever freakin' time. I've decided I'm going to see if that strategy will apply at the bar and instead of getting beads, I'll get lots of Vodka-Sodas with Lime. I'll let you know how that goes.

I also decided to give up french fries and fried chicken for Lent this year. It's kind of a big deal for me. I'm southern. It's going to be rough...fried chicken is a staple in a southerner's diet. I'm three days into it and let me tell you, I'm feeling the pangs. I've never done Lent before (I'm Presbyterian,) but I decided that if the Good Lord faced temptation for 40 days and nights, then I can *try* to survive without my fried chicken and french fries.

I also figured it would help in getting massively skinny. Oh--I'm gonna start working out, too. Man, I'm gonna be so healthy.

Off to Taco Bell now!

So, some pals and I went out last night. It was a big deal. I never go out on Thursday nights...ever. I guess b/c of the whole writer's strike and lack of quality TV, I can no longer be a hermit and stay inside the nice comfy shell that is my apartment. It was fun, probably way too much fun. It's what...3:11 and I'm still hungover. And I'm also stranded at my apartment because I left my car over at my friend's house and was dropped off and yeah--I have no ride.

Eh, I'll get around to getting it.

So, I recently had lunch with a dear friend of mine. She's married to a wonderful man who is currently in Iraq. He's in the army. He won't be finished with his tour until January '09. Oh, and did I mention that she's nine months pregnant? Yep. He won't be here for the birth of the baby. My friend is so cute and adorable. She's one of those tiny, petite women with a basket ball pregnancy. I can't wait for her to have the baby! I want to cuddle with her! Hee hee.

I'm going to see "27 Dresses" tonight. I'm pumped.

I really do. I love them. I love their cheesy soapiness and that they're the farthest thing from reality. I love how a character can be anywhere and everywhere, involved in anything, sleep with anyone...and still come away relatively unscathed. It's amazing.

But I hate, HATE how stupid the writers think the fans are, especially when they overlook important facts or rake your favorite couple through the coals over and over and over and over again. It sucks, rather, they suck. Hard.

Right now, I'm loving One Life to Live and The Young and the Restless. Oh, and I love General Hospital. In fact, I've spent the whole day in my bed, with my lap top on my, well, lap watching my favorite soaps. It's been a great day.

Oh, and this has brought mad smiles to my face. I share with you "The Tutors of 826 LA." It was born from the brilliance of Judd Apatow and the creative and insanely funny actors. I love it. LOVE IT. Enjoy.

I am eight days away from graduating from college. It's exciting, it's rewarding, and it's terrifying. I'm currently planning on doing grad school for the next year and I've been trying to do things on my own. And let me tell you, being on my own is scary and terrifying. It was so much easier when I let Daddy take care of everything.

And currently, I am $1.75 cents over drawn. Seriously, I hate this whole being on my own. I miss the simplicity of being fully dependent on mommy and daddy. I HATE THIS.

Truly, all I want is to be home with my mom and dad, with no responsibilities, no scary "unknowns" or "what if's"...

I just want to be secure and safe.

Here it is, guys, chapter 10! And I just have to say that there are some MAJOR developments in this little chapter….like monumental developments. Seriously, seriously huge. So…in order to get me to write chapter 11, you simply MUST review. Consider it a bribe, or blackmail, or whatever. My artistic ego is ravenous!

I hope you enjoy it…I know I enjoyed writing it.

**Only Shonda and ABC own the characters of Grey’s Anatomy. It’s a shame, really.

Chapter 10: Prime Real-Estate

His hands slipped off of the wood-grain and leather steering wheel and fell deftly to his lap as his eyes focused on the front door of the home that Izzie Stevens shared with Meredith Grey.  He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of reaction he was going to get from Izzie when she saw him, today of all days. He could only predict her emotions, kind of like the local weather man predicting Seattle’s weather (which in his opinion was a rather easy job, since all it seemed to do was rain in this God forsaken city.) Izzie would either a.) yell at him to ‘get the hell out and leave her the hell alone”, b.) wear out Grey’s oven by her nonstop baking, or c.) she would … well, he wasn’t really sure what kind of action would take place with option c. And if he were honest with himself, (which lately, he found himself being rather often…) he was rather terrified of the unknown. Izzie was unpredictable like that; she was a lot like the old cliché “as unpredictable as the weather.” She could go from being a blue cloudless sky, full of sunshine that warmed the darkest corner of your crummy, bleak soul and then suddenly change in a blink of a moment where the skies were ominously grey and black, with a downpour of rain drops so brittle they touched every nerve. She was magnificent like that.

 And it didn’t help that he found himself with a case of nerves. Which, in his opinion, was odd, if one knew him; there was one thing that was a constant: Mark Sloane did not get nervous around women. He was a skilled maestro with the female sex. With a flick of his wrist, and a curve of his finger, he could conduct any female to keep time with him, and swell to crescendos that were so powerful, so lyrical they touched one to the very core of their being, like one of Beethoven’s many symphonies. He was that good.

 But, it seemed, that once again, all of his knowledge of the ladies flew out of that metaphorical window, as he tried to grow the balls to go to Isobel Stevens. He’d seen her angered and passionate, her eyes full of laughter, and he’d held her crumpled body shaking with sobs over the loss of her dead fiancé. It was something he hadn’t wanted to revisit anytime soon. He hated female tears. They made him uncomfortable and unsure. And one thing he’d discovered recently was the fact that he hated seeing those warm rivulets of salty water fall from a certain pair of doe brown eyes. It was something that he found he just couldn’t take. It was strange and foreign, and altogether miserable. Just the idea of her floating in misery made him want to float down that river of misery right along with her.

 It was a truth that was incredibly unsettling and new, and one that would have made him turn around and run if he was the old Mark. But he wasn’t the old Mark. He’s the new Mark and so, here he was at 8:30 in the morning, sitting alone in his car, staring at Izzie Stevens’ front door, trying to formulate a plan of how to make this day just a little bit easier for her. His eyes suddenly slid to his blackberry resting in the console between the seats and an idea began to take shape. It was something that he had briefly considered and toyed with, he’d even made a call or two, but at the time he was rather unsure of the idea. But, now, as his eyes slid back to the Craftsman style house that one blonde inhabited, he was sure.

 He scrolled through the numbers in his address book until he found the one he was looking for. Pressing the “call” button, he waited until he heard a familiar voice.

 “Yes, Steven. This is Dr. Mark Sloane, I talked to you a few weeks ago…yes, I’m doing fine thank you. Listen, I know that this is very short notice, but I would like to see what you have to offer…today. Yes, I know it’s last minute…would 10:30 work? Fantastic. Thank you. I’ll see you then.”

 Hanging up the phone, his eyes slid back to the house, as his hand took the keys out the ignition. He now had the perfect plan to help Izzie Stevens lighten her emotional load. Now, all he needed to do was persuade her to go along with it.

 

 *****

 

“Iz…?”

 
He stood next to Meredith Grey outside of Izzie’s room, while she knocked on the door. They waited anxiously holding their breaths for an acknowledgement of their disturbance from the woman inside the shelter of her room. Meredith’s blue gray eyes met his as she shrugged her shoulders.

 He knew that he had surprised her when she’d opened the door to find him standing on her front porch, but the surprise had quickly turned into a look of relief as she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. She’d briefly told him that she hadn’t seen her roommate yet, since she liked to sleep in on her days off, and that she was very reluctant to wake Izzie just to check on her mental state and to remind her that today was the sixth month anniversary of Denny’s death in the process. He didn’t blame her, but he promptly told Meredith that he needed to see her, because after all, the two of them had a schedule to keep.

 That had only received a pointed look of incredulity, but she led him up the stairs to Izzie’s room. And there the two of them were, waiting for a reply from the woman behind the closed door. Meredith knocked again.

 “Izzie, sweetie, are you awake?” 

 The both leaned in to tying to hear a response, any kind of response. Mark found himself waiting with baited breath and rolled his eyes. This was getting ridiculous.  He turned to Meredith, “Is the door locked?”

 “I don’t know. Probably not. I haven’t really checked. I respect my roommate’s right to privacy,” she said to him with an arched eyebrow.

 Mark only rolled his eyes in return. Lifting his fist, he pounded on the door three times. “Izzie, I’m counting to three and I’m coming in!”

 He turned the knob. It wasn’t locked. Good…this made his job easier. “ONE… TWO…” and Mark opened the door and barged into to Izzie’s room, to find her hopping out of bed in nothing but a white tank top and a pair of red panties.

“Good God! Haven’t you any decency!?” Izzie yelled at him as she grabbed a pillow to cover herself. He watched as she narrowed her eyes at him. “What happened to counting to three THEN coming in?”

 Mark smirked. “It’s all in the element of surprise. I was hoping you’re one of those ‘sleep in the buff’ types and that’d I’d finally get to at least see one of your boobs.”

 She rolled her eyes at him and looked at her roommate, accusingly, as she started searching her floor for something. “Why did you let him in here?”

 Mark picked up a pair of pink flannel bottoms with dancing poodles on them and snickered. “Looking for these?” He laughed inwardly as Izzie grabbed them out his hands and narrowed her eyes at him once more.

 “He wanted to see you.” Meredith simply shrugged and turned around. “I have to get to work. Bailey said I could come in at 9:30 today since I stayed overtime last night. I better get going. Um, if you…if you need anything, just call me...”

 “I’ll be fine…tell…everyone that I’ll be fine…” Izzie’s words dropped off and she immediately began picking up her pillows to make up her bed. Mark’s eyes traveled to Izzie and saw that her shoulders were set with tension.

 “Well, um…ok, then. I’m off. I’ll see you later.”

 Mark met Meredith’s eyes before she left the room and nodded at her, letting her know that he had everything under control. His eyes turned back to the busy blonde and watched her as she picked up her room. He propped his hip against her desk and waited for her to speak. He was going to follow her lead until he found the perfect opening to put his plan into action.

 His eyes surveyed the room, taking in the décor of Izzie’s personal space. Her room was a light coral color and had random paintings and photos placed against the walls. It was obvious that every piece in her room was distinctively individual instead of a “set” and was rather a hodge podge of furniture. It worked and made the space uniquely hers. He turned to the desk and picked up a photo in a wooden frame. It was a candid shot of the rag-tagged team of interns, all five of them, out on the town it seemed. They were laughing, all with smiles that were bright . . . especially hers. Her face was the only facing the camera, her hair up in some sort of style and her lips were a bright red. Just her image captured in the photo demanded attention first, which wasn’t much unlike the woman in the flesh.

 “Don’t you have surgeries today, Mark?” She asked grumpily as she turned to him after putting her last pillow back into it’s proper spot. She had bed head, her curls large from her head’s contact with a pillow, and she didn’t have a stitch of make up on. He couldn’t help but smile inwardly at just how cute and cranky she was this morning. “I thought you had Mr. Archfield’s wife’s breast implants today…”

 His eyebrow quirked at that and placed the picture back in it’s spot. “You’re remembering my surgeries now, Iz? I’m impressed.”

 She gave him an annoyed look. “No, I just happen to remember that one because you kept talking about how hot she was and ‘how it was an injustice for a woman her age to be married to a man in his seventies’…It disgusted me, so I remembered.”

 “Well, it turns out that she had to cancel because of some surprise trip to the Hamptons that she just couldn’t pass up…she reschedule it for next month. And it is an injustice to see a young woman married to a dried up old crone like Archfield…”

 “You better watch out…that’s the man that owns the hotel you’re staying at,” she said as she shoved her feet into bunny slippers.

 “Bunny slippers, Stevens? How old are you, twelve?” He asked laughing.

 Izzie cut her eyes at him. “Yes, bunny slippers. They were a Christmas gift from George.”

 Mark snickered.

 Izzie went on, indignant. “And…don’t you know you’re never supposed to ask a lady her age…”

 She went out into the hall and Mark got up to follow her.  She eyed him suspiciously. “Did Meredith ask you to stay with me today? Because you don’t have to…I’m fine. I don’t need someone to baby-sit me. I’m an adult.”

 Mark looked at her confused. He decided to play innocent. Izzie had never mentioned the date of Denny’s death to him, they’d talked about him about very little. The only things he knew about their relationship was the information he’d gained from hospital gossip and that little bit she’d told him that night on the bench, the night that had started this unique relationship between the two.

 “Well, that’s good to know, but I actually came by because I need a favor…” He said as he stopped at the bathroom door and leaned against the doorjamb. Izzie’s hand paused as she reached for her toothbrush and her eyes turned to him in a look of subtle disbelief and interest.

 "What kind of favor? Because I’m not really in the mood to perform any sexual favors at the moment…you know, since I was so rudely awakened and all…” Izzie said as she put her toothbrush covered with toothpaste in her mouth.

 Mark didn’t bother hiding his laughter. “No, little Miss Pervert, not that kind of favor, but I may take you up on one of those later…I need the advice and expert opinion of one who’s lived in this area her entire life…”

 Izzie spit out the foaming paste and turned to him. “What for?”

 “Well, I need to find a place to live. I’ve decided to permanently relocate to Seattle.” He watched as Izzie paused her brushing and turned to him in surprise yet again.

 “Why? I thought you hated it here…”

 Mark slapped a hand over his chest and said sarcastically, “You wound me, Stevens. Couldn’t you pretend to even be a little bit happy? Now you’ll get to see my handsome face from now on.”

 “Oh, shut up.” She spit out her toothpaste and rinsed out her mouth and turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why are you really doing this . . .” Her eyes grew large. “You’re not doing this because you’re still hung up on Addison are you? Gah, I swear, Mark we’ve been over this a million times. You know that she doesn’t want—

 “Izzie!” Mark yelled her name exasperated, wanting to stop her on her rant about the reasons why Addison no longer wanted him. “No, I am not doing this because of Addison. That ship has long since sailed. It’s probably down by the tip of South America now.”

 “Good.” She said simply as she grabbed her brush and started to work the tangles out her hair. Mark was content to just watch her. He didn’t know what it was about watching a woman primp, but he’d loved it, ever since he was a little boy watching his mother get ready for a night out for one of her many social functions.

 “So, why are you staying then?” She winced as her brush came across a snarl.

 “I’m staying because . . . I have a lot of opportunities here. Richard’s incredibly supportive of any endeavor I wish to pursue and the surgical unit has become one of the best in the country as you may well know…” His eyes met hers in the mirror. “…and for other reasons.”

 She held his gaze. “Ah . . . you want to throw your name in for Chief of Surgery then?”

 Mark tore his gaze from hers and looked down at his shoes. That’s one of the reasons. “Maybe or maybe not. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

 He heard her snicker softly and he returned his eyes to hers. “What . . . you don’t think I could do it? You don’t think I’d make a good Chief?”

 She turned around and propped her hip against the counter, connecting her eyes with his. She smiled at him softly. “I think you’ve got it in you.”

 Something swelled inside of him, leaving him breathless for just a moment. There she was…his sunny and cloudless sky, warming him to his innermost depths. Seriously, he had to stop with all the warm, feely metaphors. He was losing his edge. He cleared his throat, “Well, that’s good, because I need to find an apartment. And I need you to help me.”

 “Me? Why me?” She asked, rather surprised.

 “Weren’t you listening? I need someone who knows the area, who can tell me the hot neighborhoods, and if I’m being screwed over or not.”

 She looked at him with disbelief. “Mark, if anyone was going to get screwed over, I have a feeling you wouldn’t be the one getting screwed.”

 Mark’s eyes narrowed at her. Now she was dark and ominous skies. “You’re quite bitchy in the mornings. It doesn’t suit you.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

 “Lovely. I’m glad you brushed your teeth so I don’t have to smell your bad breath.”

 He watched as a satisfied smile grew over her lips. “I’m going to get in the shower now.”

 “Is that an invitation?” His voice dropped to a low pitch as a sly smile formed on his lips.

 She sauntered up to him, grabbing a towel behind him while her other hand lowered a strap of her tank top. Stopping just in front of him, she whispered as she placed her now free hands on his chest, “You’ll just have to dream, because it’s never going to happen.”

 Mark was promptly pushed out of the bathroom and the door shut in his face. “Make sure you’re ready by 10:00!” He yelled through the door with a smile on his face.

 

Mark was growing exhausted and his nerves were wearing thin. They were standing outside of a tall building of just one of the many apartments/condos/town homes, etc,  his realtor had dragged them to. Well…they hadn’t been dragged, exactly. Steven had just taken them to every “prime area” in Seattle looking for a place that Dr. Mark Sloane could potentially call home, which translating in realtor talk, meant that he had apotentially high commission for the savvy realtor.

 But none of them had been “just right” according to Izzie. She gave her opinions freely which honestly had surprised him at first. She’d caught things that he’d never have thought of to notice. But after the third place shown to him, and one that he’d actually somewhat liked, she had rather confidently said “hmm…this is better than the last one, but don’t you have one better for Dr. Sloane? This is a little shabby.”  Both he and the realtor had to bite their tongues. For a girl who grew up in a trailer park, the chick had discriminating tastes when it came to finding him a home.

 And after the fourth one shown to them had received a failing mark, he’d dragged her into the half bath, and had a few words with her. He was actually rather proud of himself for keeping his mouth shut for so long, but after her snide remark about the color of tile used in the back splash in the kitchen, he’d lost it.  He’d told her that he was the one shelling out the money for the place and that if he wanted an apartment with beige colored tile back splash and dark green granite counter tops, then he’d get it. And to that, she simply replied, “Fine. But you’ll have one of the ugliest kitchens ever.”

And she’d been silent for the last twenty minutes as they made their way to the next property. Silence from Izzie Stevens was something he’d never thought he’d experience. And he had to admit, that right in that moment, he was enjoying it.

 “This is The Cosmopolitan, as you can tell it’s right in the heart of the city, just a few blocks from Pike Place Market, some of the hottest restaurants, and other city attractions. The Cosmopolitan has two clubrooms, a fitness area, as well as a rooftop area that houses a pool. Now, the unit I’m about to show you has the most phenomenal views of the city. Would you like to see it now?”

 “Yes, I’d love to.” He looked to Izzie and let her walk before him. The lobby was spectacularly decorated with a contemporary style in warm hues of dark browns, golds, and reds, marble floors, and stainless steel accents. Judging by the lobby, he could tell instantly he was going to like the unit he was about to see.

“The unit we’re going to look at today is on the 34^th floor, it’s a two bedroom, two bath penthouse. It’s one of the only ones left,” Steven said to them as they got on the elevator.

"I hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Izzie muttered under her breath.

Mark slid his eyes towards her. “I lived in the Trump Tower in Manhattan. Of course I’m not afraid of heights.”

The realtor opened the door for them and stepped aside to allow them into the apartment. Izzie stopped short, nearly causing him to bump into her.

“Oh, my God! This is…” She stopped and turned to him, awe written all over her face.

Mark found he was speechless as well. They had stepped into a room surrounded with windows offering panoramic views of the city. It was spacious and open, and absolutely beautiful. The floors were made of a medium toned, warm oak, and there was a fire place. He loved fire places. 

“I have to say this is one of the best views of the city,” Steven said coming up behind him. “If you look to your left, you can see the Space Needle and over there, to you right, you can see Mt. Ranier and the Puget Sound. Incredible, isn’t?”

“Yes, it is,” he said softly as he took in the city before him, covered in the soft glow of the afternoon sun.

 “Look at the kitchen!” His eyes went to Izzie who had made her way behind the counter and was running her hands over the smooth grey granite. The kitchen was modern with dark cabinets, stainless steel and top of the line appliances, set against a black slate back splash. “This kitchen is every cook’s dream…”

He went over and joined her behind the counter. “Yeah, it is. Too bad I don’t cook.”

She cut her eyes at him and laughed.  He turned to his left and pointed, “Oh, thank God, there’s a wine cooler.”

“Ah, yes, because a wine cooler is an absolute must,” she said sarcastically.

“You know it…and did you see the wet bar over there? I gotta have my wet bar.”
She chuckled. “You really are such an alcoholic.”

“Would you two like to see the rest of the penthouse now?” Steven’s question quieted them as they turned to look at him in surprise. Mark had forgotten he was there.

“Yes, that’d be great.”

The two of them followed him into the other rooms that were equally impressive. The master bedroom and bath had instantly sold him. The rooms were spacious, with clean lines, and decorated in a color palate that was extremely his style. He’d laughed out loud when Izzie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw the closet.  It was impressive and in her own words, “almost orgasmic.”
Even he was shocked at just how much bang for the buck he was getting. Housing was so expensive back in Manhattan. In Seattle, he was going to get a place twice the size of his in New York and for half the price.

They were now following the realtor up to the rooftop to take in the views. Steven turned to them once they walked out into the open air and took in the view of the city around them. “I’m going to give you some time to think about the property. I’m going to go back down into the unit to make a phone call to one of my partners. If you need me, that’s where I’ll be.”

It was just the two of them now, alone on the roof. He stood in his place as he watched Izzie walk to the railing and lean against it, her back to him. All that he could see of face was her profile, touched by the afternoon sunlight.  The wind was blowing her curls and he watched as one of her hands lifted to tuck one of the strands behind her ears.

He never really had an opinion on curly or straight hair before. He’d just known that he loved hair in vibrant colors. His mother’s was jet black, shiny and silky, from her father’s Italian roots. He’d inherited his father’s light, sandy colored brown hair, which he’d always thought was kind of boring. But he’d always loved women’s hair, the softness of it, the smell. Addison’s was a vibrant red. He’d seen it go from brown, to blonde, and back to red again. She said she hated her red hair, but she always came back to her natural color and he knew that she thought her hair was her crowning glory, though she’d never admit it.

And now he was studying Izzie’s hair. It was blonde, and he’d never really paid much attention to blonde hair before, partly because most of the blondes he’d encountered were really brunettes, and he guessed he’d never been turned on by the color, mostly due to the fact that most of the time, the blonde color came from a bottle. Yet, he had a strong feeling that her hair color was the real deal.

He closed the distance between them and stood next to her, leaning against the railing. His eyes were once again drawn to hair. He saw the light shine on the different colors varying from a dark honey, to caramelized wheat, to a light cream, all woven together creating a beautiful palate of gold. He liked the way the sun reflected off of her strands.

She turned her face towards him and taking him in as if she was studying him, and she looked as if she wanted to say something. He could see her mind trying to decide if she wanted to speak her mind or keep quiet. Nudging her with his elbow, he encouraged her silently.

“I’m glad . . . that you, um. . .” She paused and he heard her laugh softly to herself before turning to him and connecting her eyes with his.

“You’re glad about what . . . ?” He prodded softly.

“I’m glad that you’re staying . . . in Seattle.” He watched as she rubbed her hands over her arms to fend off the slight chill from the breeze and waited for her to continue on, barely breathing. “You know . . . you and I . . .we get each other. It’s so weird, but, we do. I mean . . . you’re egotistical and you can be an ass, and you can piss me off like no other, but . . . you get me.  Like today. . . .all I wanted to do today was to stay in my bed, but you dragged me out, to go on an apartment hunt, and you completely took my mind off of everything . . .”

He felt his heartbeat speed up at her words.

“I haven’t once felt sad or sorry for myself, since I’ve been with you. You’ve aggravated and annoyed me, and you’ve somehow managed to make me laugh . . . ” she looked at him, her eyes warm and she moved closer to him as she hooked one of her arms around his, “ . . . you’ve just made me feel . You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve felt anything but emptiness . . .And I haven’t felt empty one time that I’ve been with you.”

Her words dropped off as one tear, followed by another fell down her cheeks, and her watery brown eyes met his. “This has been one hell of a year and I’ve nearly lost it all . . . and it’s been really hard dealing with it all . I’ve tried to be strong, to keep it all together. But I can’t help but feel like I’ve lost a little bit of me through it all.”

He lifted his hand to her face and wiped away her tears and noticed just how soft her skin felt under his fingers. He wanted to say something, anything, but he found that he’d lost his capability of speech. And so, he just stood there, and cradled her face with one of his hands.

“You help me to forget.” Her breath was soft and warm against his palm, her lips tickling his hand as she spoke. “So, you see . . . I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d gone back to New York.” Her eyes turned to him, seeking something and so full of different emotion.

“Izzie . . .” He found he was only able to whisper her name. The weight of her words rested heavily on him as he took in her meaning. She needed him. She needed him to make her forget her pain of the last sixth months and she needed him to make her smile and laugh.

It’d been so long since he’d been simply . . . needed.

He watched as her eyes traveled to his lips and he felt every nerve in his body come alive. Her hand let go of his and he felt her smooth palm run up his arm, caressing him, as it made its way to his shoulder, the other following. He nearly groaned as he felt her fingertips slid up against the skin of his neck and tangling themselves in his hair, pulling his face towards hers, his lips colliding against hers.

Her kiss was warm, passionate, and slow, leaving him senseless. His hands went to her waist and pulled her against him roughly, having to have her against him, his arms encircling her, molding her against him.

His action elicited a moan from her lips and she clung tighter to him, intensifying their kiss. This kiss was nothing like this one she laid on him in the bar. That had been hot, fast, and with the intent of exerting power. But this one . . . this one was entirely different. It was incredibly intense and full unbridled emotion,  but it was more about lust and passion. This kiss was born out of need; a need for the other to help them cope, to forget, to cleanse the wounds.

And it wasn’t enough for him.

He pulled away sharply and pushed her body away from his, dropping his hold from her. Her lips were swollen red, and her eyes were a dark chocolate colored with desire that was quickly turning to confusion.

“Mark . . . what’s wrong? Did I . . . do something wrong?”

His hands itched to touch her, but instead he clinched his fists and held them to his side. “I can’t kiss you . . . not like this, Izzie.”

“I . . . I don’t understand. You seemed to be enjoying yourself . . .”

“Believe me I was . . .” He dropped off and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He moved away from her not able to stand so close to her.

“Well, then . . . why’d you stop?” He could hear the frustration growing in her voice.

He had to ask her. He had to know. “Why did you kiss me?”

“ Why did I . . . are you serious!? You’re asking me why I kissed you?” Her voice was growing louder with every word.

“Yes! I want to know why you kissed me!”

“What does it matter why I kissed you? Come on, Mark . . . you’re McSteamy. You’re not supposed to complain when a woman kisses you. You’re supposed to shut up and actively participate, remember?”

His eyes narrowed at her and shook his head, saying more to himself than her, “Not anymore. I’m done with that.”

She scoffed. “Oh, so you’re reformed now? Just when did that happen?”

“I’m not sure exactly, but I’d say it happened within the last couple of weeks.” His eyes sought hers. And he knew how it came about and why. He knew exactly why.

He watched as her brows lowered in uncertainty and as myriad of different thoughts played through her mind, all clearly showing in her dark eyes. His eyes followed her movements as she wrapped her arms around her torso, and he was wishing that it was his arms that wrapped around her instead of her own, but he stayed rooted to his spot.

“Why . . . within the last couple of weeks?” He heard her ask meekly.

His blues eyes burned into hers. “I think you know why.”

“Because . . . of . . . me?” She shook her head in confusion. “So you’re trying be noble now?” She started to pace in an angry circle. “That must be it . . . why else would you stop kissing me. ‘Oh! Can’t kiss that girl, she’s got a dead fiancé. She’s damaged goods!”
He grabbed her and made her face him. “Do you think it was easy for me to stop kissing you? Because let me tell you sweetie, it wasn’t. If I had my way you’d be panting my name right now . . .”

“Well, then why did you stop? Maybe you can clarify that for me because I’m just a little confused by your logic!”

“You see, Izzie, you’re a brat and a pain in my ass. You boss me around and tell me what’s constantly wrong with my life. It’s annoying . . . unbelievably annoying!” He saw that she was getting offended, but he rushed on. “But somehow, you’ve come to mean an awful lot to me. I don’t know how you did it, but you did. You just bulldozed your way into my life and now, I just can’t seem to get it back to normal. And you know what’s really crazy about it all, Izzie? It’s that I don’t want to! And it scares the hell out of me!” She tried to break free from his grasp, but he held on tight, wanting, no needing to lay it all on the line for her.

Mark closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to make her see, to understand.
“Izzie . . . the next time we kiss, I want it to be because I am the only man you’re thinking about. I’m tired of it, all, Izzie. I’m so tired of never coming first and always ending up the odd man out. I’ve played sloppy seconds one too many times and I don’t think I can do it to the memory of your fiancé.” He dropped his hands from her arms and just stood there, his eyes beseeching hers. “Please, Izzie, don’t ask me to do it again.”

He hadn’t intended on sharing so much with her, not today of all days, but he knew that once the gates were open, there was no way of keeping in this flood of his truths inside of him. He’d held in so many of his emotions for so long and it’d got him nowhere. And now, all he could do for his sanity’s sake, was to come clean and expose it all.

And now he was standing, in front of a woman who had come to mean so much to him so quickly, that it had nearly blinded him. He bared it all for her, not really sure of what her reaction would be or if she’d even have one. He’d been weighted down all those years by suppressing his emotions, but now, standing on the roof top of a high rise in the middle of down town Seattle, he’d never felt so free or light, despite his fear of rejection. He’d been honest and it felt good.

She was standing there silent, not meeting his eyes, and all he wanted to do was touch her. Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek, not denying the swell of hope that was born when she closed her eyes and the small sigh that escaped from her lips.

“I know . . . that I’ve laid a lot on you, that it’s a lot to process. So, the ball is your court now. I’m not asking you to completely forget Denny, I could never ask you to do that. But what I’m asking for is a chance, just one chance . . . I need to know if I have a shot, and you’re going to have to tell me . . .” Her eyes flew to his in panic and he gave her a broken smile. “No, not today.  I couldn’t ask that of you. I want you to be sure, because Izzie, if you give me the green light, I’m going to do everything in my power to win your heart . . .”

He brushed the stray hairs out of her eyes and placed a kiss on her forehead, before resting his against hers. “And, I swear to you, Iz, if you take a chance on me, you’ll never regret it . . .”

The sound of an opening door, tore their bodies apart, but their eyes stayed connected to one another. The realtor’s voice rang out through the air. “So, Dr. Sloane, have you made a decision?”

Never taking his eyes of Izzie, he answered. “Yes, I’d like to place an offer for it this afternoon.” He grabbed her hands and lifted one to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I’m here, Iz and I’m here to stay.”

 * * * *

Alright, my dear and wonderfully patient readers, here is chapter 9! Goodness, I can’t believe that this story has gone to 9 chapters…its mind boggling. I apologize for not updating recently. I am currently in my senior year of college and am student teaching and have projects galore which are all very time consuming. Believe me, if I didn’t have to graduate, I would much rather succumb to the fantasy world that is McStizzie. Again, I apologize for the lack of updates.

 

So, in this chapter, something very important happens, something that is much needed for one of the characters. It will now lead us into a new direction. So, without further ado….

 

Enjoy the story!

 

*None of the characters belong to me, only Shonda and ABC. Oh, except for Ms. Marty Jensen.

 

Author’s note: So, if you haven’t noticed by now, my chapters tend to skip in regards to time. So this takes place about 2 to three weeks after Chapter 8. Izzie and Mark have been hanging out regularly and have been enjoying one another’s company, and becoming close friends. So, that should catch you up.

 

This chapter has not been beta’d. All mistakes are mine. So sorry. And reviews are love!

 

 

 

Chapter 9: The Reconstruction Era

 


“Let’s take a look at the new you, Ms. Jensen.”

 
Mark Sloane turned the full length mirror towards the direction of the woman with bandages wrapped all over her body, leaning against two nurses for support. Marty Jensen had undergone a body lift, a major reconstructive surgery that involved a breast lift and implants, tummy tuck, as well as a thigh and buttock lift.

 
The woman taking in her reflection had lost a substantial amount of weight, one hundred and thirty-seven pounds to be exact, thanks to her hard work and dedication to creating a new life for herself. It was something Mark had found remarkable and very admirable.

 
She’d told him in one of their many consults that she had hidden behind her weight, using it as a blanket to shield her from the hurt others would willingly and unwillingly afflict to her heart. With broken green eyes, she had looked at him and told him that she had been the greatest coward in all of her thirty-one years of life and was tired of hiding behind a shield that was literally killing her instead of protecting her and that she was ready to finally start living.

 
He felt himself identifying with his patient. He understood her using her body as a shield against other’s intentions, hell, he’d done it himself. The weapons they used were different, but they both held similar tactics with the same goal: to keep others out and make sure their hearts are left intact.

 
If someone got too close to the danger zone that was his heart, he’d instantly react. He’d find a woman, beautiful and attractive, ready and willing to take part in his war games, and he’d do the defensive maneuver, quick and fast, almost blinding the opponent threatening to invade and take his heart, but he would sideswipe them in the middle of their offensive attack, leaving them stunned.

 
It was what had happened with Addison. She had somehow penetrated the defenses of his heart and had left him open, vulnerable, and almost defenseless. He had almost let his whole guard down thinking that she actually wanted him and had loved him.

 
But he’d known he’d only fooled himself in regards to Addison’s feelings towards him. It all became perfectly and painfully clear when he came home one evening to find Addison on the floor of his bathroom, her knuckles white from clutching a picture of Derek, huddled into a ball, eyes swollen from the tears.

 
He’d led himself to believe in a dream that would never come true and it was a bitter cruelty he’d inflicted on himself. So he went on the defensive end and using all of the strategical planning that would make a four star general proud, he formulated a plan that worked brilliantly and swiftly, leaving as little causality behind as possible

The causalities may have been few in number, but the price paid was a rather steep one. He’d lost his best friend when he gave into his heart’s unspoken dream of loving Addison freely and fully, and he’d lost the only woman he thought he’d ever loved.

 
He tried to rectify his wrongs and his ill advised plans of war in grand gestures. He’d made the transcontinental trips to Seattle for a rendezvous’ in the sheets when she’d call him broken. He thought she’d needed him, that she’d been lost without him. And she had needed him…she’d needed his body to dull the pain by blinding her senses with movements of his body. And to him, that need of his body had given him hope. It had made him believe that she would also come to need his love as well.

 
And rather naively, he’d made the trip to Seattle once more, but this time, in the form of a grand gesture. This time, his hands held a metaphorical olive branch and a Treaty of Second Chances. He would make things right between him and Addison and he’d earn his broken brother’s trust back. He would return his life back to a relative normal . . . a life that he knew well and understood.

 
But his plans of reconciliation hadn’t quite gone as planned. His Treaty of Second Chances had been proven useless because Addison was done with him and was moving on with her life rather nicely, with a man who seemed to have less baggage and darkness.

And she was happy. She still thought he was up to his old tricks as was made blatantly obvious by her remarks in the elevator the night of the crash, which proved to him that while she may be finished with him, it would take quite awhile for her to trust him again and to see him as anything less than a whore.

And then it hit him, an epiphany of sorts, maybe a light bulb moment. It had all become abundantly clear to him that he, Mark Sloane, was tired of it all. He was tired of the constant fighting, of the carnage he created with his emotional battles, and he was tired of always losing in the end because he was too afraid to fully risk his heart. That’s why he had fallen for Addison in the first place. She was unattainable and taken, and safe to love from afar…and it was love, an unhealthy love that ended up damaging him, but it was a love that he had needed. Because now, right at this moment, he had finally gotten to the point in his life where he was ready to take down the impenetrable wall around his heart. He was ready to risk it all.

 
He felt a warm hand reach for his, and turned his eyes to meet Marty Jensen’s.

 
“Thank you, Dr. Sloane . . .” Her voice was thick with emotion, as tears fell freely down her cheeks.

 
He felt a smile spread over his face as his hand tightened on hers. “You did it, Marty.”

 
Marty’s laugh rang through the room. “I did, didn’t I?  I did it.”

 
“Yes, you did, Marty . . .” He said softly as he looked at both of their reflections in the mirror. He saw two people finally ready to let their guards down and to really start living.

* * * * * 

“Dr. Sloane!” 

 
Mark turned to see O’Malley run after him. He’d left Marty Jensen’s room, hoping for a moment for himself, to think things over, but it seemed that he wasn’t going to get his quiet moment of solitude for awhile. “What is it, O’Malley . . . make it quick. I don’t have all day to chit chat,” he bit out sarcastically as he kept walking.

 
He watched as George stopped short and sputtered. He really didn’t understand how Stevens was best friends with him or why Torres married him. Callie was somewhat of an aggressive wildcat in bed, and he knew from experience that it took quite a man to fulfill her needs. Taking in the younger man’s average stature, he wondered if he’d underestimated the young intern judging from the smile his wife was wearing this morning.

 
The intern caught up with him. “I wanted to talk to you about Dr. Stevens, sir.”

 
Mark stopped and turned to look at George O’Malley. The intern’s nervousness in addressing him changed to a steely resolve and Mark instantly bristled. “What about Dr. Stevens, O’Malley?”

 
“I’ve been told that you and Iz—Dr. Stevens have become close these past few weeks...”

 
“Is that so?”

 
“Yes, that’s what I’ve heard, sir.” George said tightly.

 
“And, why, exactly does it concern you, Dr. O’Malley?” Mark crossed his arms a little annoyed at the intrusion to his personal life as well as being intrigued as to where O’Malley was going with this topic of conversation.

 
“It concerns me, Dr. Sloane, because Izzie is one of my best friends—

 
“--Really? It appears to me that you haven’t been much a friend to her lately.”

 
George’s eyes narrowed and Mark could tell he was trying to control his temper. “It’s true that we . . . we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye lately—“

 
“--because of your wife…” Mark found that he had to interject that in there.

 
George went on, ignoring his last comment. “And despite it all, sir, I love Izzie. She’s my family and when you’re family you have rough times…but…but you get through it…”

 
Mark suddenly found that his words had hit remarkably close to home and he had wished that in his case they were true.

 
“. . . and when you’re family, sir, you’re there for each other, especially when they’re hurting. But sometimes…you can’t help that person, even though you want to, what they need you can’t give them . . .”

 
“Where is this going, O’Malley? I’m not entirely following you.” Mark’s interest was piqued and he found himself very curious as to what O’Malley was trying to say.

 
“Do you know what today is, sir?”

 
“It’s the fifteenth. Why?”

 
George looked him fully in the eye. “Tomorrow is the sixth month anniversary of Denny Duquett’s death, sir.”

 
And suddenly the reason for their little chat started to make sense.

 
“I take it she didn’t tell you?”

 
“No, she didn’t,” he said softly.

 
“She wouldn’t . . . things like that, things that hurt her, she keeps to herself. You wouldn’t think that Izzie would be the type to close herself off…but she can and I’m afraid she’s doing that again.” George cleared his throat and met his eyes again. “I just wanted you to know . . .”

 
“Thank you, for the heads up. I’ll try to do what I can for her…” He said softly and judging from the intern’s body language, their conversation wasn’t yet finished. “Is there anything else, O’Malley?”

 
Mark watched as George looked down at his shoes as if he was trying to choose his words carefully and waited for him to speak. “She’s smiling a lot more lately.” He looked up then. “I mean really smiling. For the longest time, she would smile, but, it wouldn’t reach her eyes…” George paused and looked at him. “When she smiles, and I mean truly smiles, she gets these little crinkles around her eyes and her eyes are like, like…”

 
“Like lightening bugs that come out in the summer… her eyes light up like that . . . they twinkle…” Mark dropped off, surprised by his words.

 
George looked at him quietly, as if trying to assess him, and Mark found that he couldn’t quite look him in the eyes. He was reeling over comparing the smile in Izzie’s eyes to lightening bugs and twinkles. Just when had he gotten so damn poetic?

 
“I . . . would have never thought to compare it like that, but, yeah…ahem,” George cleared his throat which only slightly embarrassed Mark more. “But now that you described it like that…it’s perfect. But it’s been good, you know, to see her smiling like that. None of us have been able to do that for her these last few months . . . but you seem to be able to do it.”

 
Mark met his gaze, and tried to ignore the fluttering of hope in his blood. He didn’t know how to respond, so he stayed silent, trying to figure out his own surprising reactions brought about from this conversation.

 
George lifted his head and took a step closer to Mark, looking him squarely in the eye.

 “I don’t know exactly what’s going between you two. I don’t know if you’re just friends or if you’re wanting more from her. But whatever you do, just . . .  don’t hurt her”

 
He turned his head sharply to George and met his eyes. There was no judgment for his past sins in the younger man’s eyes, only acknowledgement of Mark’s present role in Izzie’s life. It was strange to see it in her friend’s eyes, when he, himself, was unsure as to what exactly was going on between the two.

 
“I won’t.”

 
George O’Malley nodded his acceptance and belief in Mark’s promise to protect the feelings of a very fragile, special woman. And for the first time in his life, he believed in his promise, too.

 
Mark watched the younger man walk away from him and made a decision. Turning to the nurse at the nurse’s station he said, “Hey, Becky. You wouldn’t happen to have Bailey's interns' schedule for tomorrow would you?”

 
Becky riffled through some papers and smiled as she handed him the papers, “Here it is, sir.”

 
“Thank you.” He gave her a smile and looked over the schedule looking for one name in particular. Having found it, he turned to the nurse again. “Becky, would you be a doll and hand me the phone?”

 
She gave him another grin and he winked at her knowing she would eat up the attention. Dialing his extension number, he waited for his secretary to answer.

 
“Dr. Sloane’s office, this is Sherry speaking. How may I help you?”

 
“Sherry, its Mark . . . listen, I need you to clear my schedule for tomorrow. Something important has come up.”

 

 

 

Alert! Alert!

I wasn't able to post chapter 7 in my journal because it's entirely too long. But, seriously, it's one of my favorite chapters that I have written. So...if you want to read it...you'll have to go to my Fanfiction.net page there and read it.

Here is the link:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3375611/7/

It's entitled "Betty Crocker and Old Wounds." I hope you enjoy it!!!

Now, here is chapter 8! I’m trying something new with this chapter. All of my other chapters have only revolved around Izzie and Mark. Well, this chapter, I am involving some of the other characters. Please don’t shoot me if I didn’t capture their voices just right. I’m trying something new.

 
This chapter is somewhat of a filler, but it’s laying down some important ground work for future chapters. I hope you like it!

 
Thank you all for the wonderful and kind reviews you gave me! You have no idea how much they mean to me!

 
Thanks!

SC

 

*** All characters belong to ABC and Shonda!

 

 

 

Chapter 8: Peeping Toms and Snack Breaks

 

 

Izzie turned over in her sleep and snuggled deeper under her fluffy comforter, her eyes briefly opening as she rolled over onto her back. She lay there as a brief moment of realization washed over her, her body prickling with awareness. There was someone standing by her bed, looking down at her, watching her sleep. Her eyes opened slowly, afraid of who she would find . . . an ax murder? Or maybe the weird, balding man that lived with his 80 year old mother in the house next door (whom Izzie also happened to think was a bit of a peeping tom?)  

 

She let out a breath in relief as she looked at the pair of legs beside her bed, her eyes traveling up to the familiar face that went along with the legs. She always did have an overactive imagination which she liked to think it was a part of her creativity. But still, Izzie couldn’t help but confess to herself, their next door neighbor was a little scary.

 

“Meredith, do you have any idea of just how creepy you are?” She said groggily. Her arm reached clumsily for the clock on her bedside table. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she groaned as she took in the time. “My God . . . it’s only 7:30 in the morning. Go away.”

 

Meredith stood over her, looking at her curiously. “Why is there a man asleep on my couch?” Her voice grew louder with agitation and disbelief. “And why does that man strongly resemble McSteamy!?”

 

“I found him in a bassinet outside of our door when I got home. He had a bow and everything.” Izzie said sarcastically as she turned her back to her roommate and tried to resume her slumber. “Go away and let me sleep!”

 

Meredith grabbed one of her pillows and hit her in the head with it. “Izzie! This is serious . . . and more than a little . . . strange.” Meredith climbed into the bed beside her roommate and snuggled underneath the covers. “Did you sleep with him? Because if you did . . . it’s kinda weird that he’s asleep on my couch and not in your bed. But if you did sleep with him . . . why didn’t he just go home instead of shacking here and well, you know, sleeping on my mother’s sofa?”

 

Izzie sat up glaring at her roommate for ruining her plans of sleeping in. “No, I did not sleep with McSteamy.”

 

“Well, that’s good. I’m glad to hear you haven’t taken to my habit of sleeping with inappropriate men.” Meredith sat up, fluffing her pillow and leaned back against it.  “But why, exactly, is McSteamy asleep and drooling on my couch?”

 

Izzie stretched the muscles in her body, annoyed that she had to deal with this on a day where she actually got to sleep in. She also was further annoyed at the fact that her roommate had returned home earlier than expected—much earlier, which in turn was forcing her to deal with, well, this. “What are you doing here, Mere? I thought you’d still be with McDreamy connecting with Mother Nature and eating trout and granola for breakfast.”

 

Meredith narrowed her eyes in annoyance. “He has a craniotomy at ten and wanted to get to the hospital early. And he only made me eat trout for breakfast once and it really wasn’t that bad. You’re still avoiding my question.”

 

Izzie rolled her eyes and crawled over Meredith, looking for her slippers. Finding them under her bed, she slipped her feet into her bunny slippers, and answered her. “We baked a cake.”

 

She ignored the look of shock on Meredith’s face and headed for the bathroom. Meredith followed her, close on her heels.   

 

 “You baked a cake? With McSteamy!?”  She asked loudly, her voice laced with disbelief.

 

“Shh!” Izzie turned around to her and frantically pointed her finger down to the floor below them, trying to remind her friend of their houseguest. She didn’t want Mark to wake up and overhear their conversation about him which would only make this awkward situation more awkward. She quickly walked to the bathroom.

 

She tried to shut the door, but Meredith beat her to it and slid into the bathroom.  “Ok, so you baked a cake. What kind of cake?”

 

“Chocolate.”  Izzie began brushing her teeth hoping to send the message that she didn’t particularly care to talk about their current topic of conversation.

 

“You baked a chocolate cake. With McSteamy . . . who is currently asleep on my couch.” Meredith said putting the bits of information together and cocked her eyebrow, still baffled by her roommate’s involvement with the plastic surgeon. “But . . . why did you bake a cake with him and why is he still here?”

 

Izzie spit the foaming toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her mouth out with water. “There was an accident last night and we both witnessed it. It was pretty gruesome,” she said as she turned off the water while trying to decide on the details she wanted to share with her roommate. “. . . he was really affected by it and so was I. So we baked a cake ..”

 

Meredith nodded her head, but she was still trying to make sense of it all.  “Ok . . .”

 

Izzie walked past her, but stopped at the door and turned around. “And we also consumed the whole fifth of Jim Beam. Besides, friends don’t let friends drive drunk. ”

 

She turned to go but was stopped by Meredith’s hand on her arm and turned to her annoyed.

 

“You’re friends with Mark Sloane!? When did this happen? When did this start?”

 

 “It’s a phrase, Meredith.”

 

Meredith started shaking her head, knowing something was up and that there was a lot more to the story than she was telling. “You’ve been on some pretty horrific cases, Izzie. Remember the twenty year old burn victim with 90% of his body needing skin grafts from two months ago? That case affected everybody, especially all the doctors on it.”

 

“Your point?” Izzie grabbed her floss and started to floss her teeth, trying to ignore Meredith and focus on her dental hygiene routine instead.

 

“You were on that with Sloane . . . I don’t remember you baking with him during that case. There was a bottle of tequila we shared and killer hangovers, but there was no baking with McSteamy.”

 

Izzie threw the used floss into the waste basket, and turned around to Meredith, slightly peeved. “What are you getting at, Mere?”

 

“There’s something going on with you . . .”

 

“There is nothing going on with me. I’m fine. Perfect.”

 

Izzie sighed as she took in her friend’s concerned expression. It was a look that both Meredith and George wore whenever they were worried about her. They’d been wearing it off and on for the last five months and sixteen days. It was a look as if they both expected her to shatter and they were waiting by the sidelines, with a broom and dust pan in their grasp, just waiting to put the pieces back together again with crazy glue.

 

She was tired of those looks they gave her and she was done with being handled with care.

 

“I’m sorry, Iz. I’m just a little baffled.” Meredith turned towards her friend and leaned against the wall. “I thought you didn’t like Sloane . . . at all, and then I come home to find him asleep on my couch, and . . .” Meredith shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know what to think.”

 

Izzie grabbed a hair band and pulled her hair into a pony tail. Looking in the full length mirror on the wall next to the door to check her hair, her eyes connected with Meredith’s. “Honestly, I don’t either.”

 

Meredith lowered her brows in thought and started slowly. “So . . . are you . . . friends with McSteamy then?”

 

Izzie let the word float around in her head, testing it out. When she thought about the definition of ‘friend’, the words trust, support, and honesty sprang to mind and she knew, that all three of those were had been put into action between she and Mark. She’d been honest with him, especially when he didn’t want to hear it. She’d supported him last night and he’d supported her that night on the bench. And . . . she had shared one of her deepest secrets, and fully trusted him with it.  

 

Izzie’s brown eyes met Meredith’s.  “Yeah,” she said softly. “Yeah, you could call us that.”

 

“How long have you been friends with him?”

 

“I don’t know. A few weeks . . . maybe close to a month?”

 

Meredith’s eyes grew large in surprise. “A month . . . you’ve been friends with him for a month!? How did I not know this?”

 

 Izzie shrugged her shoulders and turned around. “You’ve been busy, Meredith . . . and happy with your McDreamy going on dates and nature walks. And to be completely honest, I really don’t feel like going into all the particulars. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check on Mark and make sure he’s ok.”  

 

She walked away, leaving a very shocked and confused Meredith alone in the bathroom. As she reached for her toothbrush and toothpaste, she couldn’t help but wonder how Derek would have reacted to finding his ex-best friend sleeping on her couch, especially the part where he spent the night baking a cake in her kitchen with one of her roommates. Now, that would have been a very interesting start to their morning.

 

******

 

 

“Something’s up with Izzie.” Meredith sat down in a chair and balanced her container of fruit on her lap. She looked over to the old man to make sure her added presence hadn’t disturbed him.

 

“Something’s always up with Izzie. That’s her style.” Alex said as he bit into his apple, while reading about the latest procedure in neonatal surgeries.

 

Meredith sat there frustrated as she looked across the room at Alex and Christina. It was just the three of them working the early shift and they all had a break. Izzie and George were on the schedule to come in later and would be on call for the night.  “No, I mean it. She’s . . .” She took a bite of her cantaloupe trying to describe it exactly, this thing that was going on with Izzie. “Ok, you know how vocal she is whenever something’s bothering her, right?”

 

“Yes, she’s very vocal. Almost too vocal. There have been times when I’ve wanted to strangle her.” Christina looked up and thought about her statement. “Basically whenever she opens her mouth.”

 

“Exactly! Well, not the bit that involves strangulation . . . but you’re right. She’s vocal, always, no matter what. Seriously, haven’t you guys noticed?”

 

“Noticed what?” Alex and Christina chorused together. Meredith could tell they weren’t nearly as concerned about their friend as she was.

 

“That she’s been quiet lately . . . less vocal.”

“Yeah and it’s been nice.”

 

Meredith threw a glare at Christina. “It’s odd . . . it’s very, very odd and un-Izzie like. I’m worried about her.”

 

Alex looked up from the medical journal and shrugged. “Listen, I’m sure she’s just been worried about her and O’Malley and how she can dig herself out the hole she’s created . . . she’ll be back to normal in no time.”

 

Meredith considered his words thinking that that may be a part of the issue, but it just didn’t cover everything. “Well . . . how do explain the fact that I found Mark Sloane sleeping on my couch?”

 

Both Christina and Alex looked up at that.

 

“Izzie had a sleepover with McSteamy?” Christina asked, her eyes huge.

 

“She slept with Sloane?” Alex didn’t bother hiding the disgust.

 

Christina looked at Alex, annoyed. “He’s hot. I’d do him.”

 

Alex sent Christina a glare and he turned to Merdith wanting further explanation. She swallowed. “Well, she told me that they didn’t sleep together—

 

“She must be stupid,” Christina muttered.

 

Meredith ignored her. “But they did . . . bake a cake together.”

 

“What?” Alex asked, slightly choking on his apple.

 

“ ‘They baked a cake’ . . . is that some new kind of metaphor for getting stoned or something?” Christina asked confused.

 

Meredith rolled her eyes. “She said that they witnessed some major accident together and that they needed a form of therapy, so they baked. But that’s all the details she gave me. And you know Izzie . . . she loves details.”

 

“She made him bake? I’ve lost the little respect I had for Sloane.” Alex said as he took brought his bottle of water to his lips.

 

“I can’t picture McSteamy baking. I wonder if she made him wear an apron. She made Burke wear an apron,” Christina muttered, a little disgusted at the memory of Thanksgiving.

 

“She says that they’re friends.”

 

Alex laughed. “That’s impossible. Sloane doesn’t have any friends.”

 

“ Well, she says that they’ve been friends for a month.” Meredith sat the plastic cup on the ground and sat back. “How is it possible that none of us noticed that she’s become friends with McSteamy when we’re supposed to be her friends?”

 

Meredith slumped down in her chair and continued. “I just don’t understand why she’s turned to him when we’re right here . . . have we really been that absorbed in our own lives that we haven’t noticed her hurting?”

 

They were all silent as they looked at each other.

 

“We’re her family . . . and I think we’ve been neglecting her. What if something is seriously going on?”

 

“Meredith, I’m sure things are fine and you’re just making this an issue out of nothing. If there was something bothering her, we’d know because she’d tell us. She’s not the kind of person where you have to pull things out of her. She’s open and honest with her feelings.”

 

“Evil Spawn’s right. It’s Izzie . . . she likes to bake and do kind things for people. She’s considerate . . . it’s what she does. Maybe she’s just  telling the truth that they baked because . . . it was ‘therapy’ or whatever.”

 

Meredith looked at Christina. “Maybe you’re right. But . . . there’s something going on between them. I can tell.  I noticed that she made him breakfast before I left. He was sitting at my counter, with her right beside him, and they were eating scrambled eggs.”

 

Christina got up and stretched. “I think you’re worrying over nothing, Meredith.”

 

Meredith watched Christina walk out of the room and turned to Alex. “You know Izzie, you two had a thing. Do you think I’m just making an issue out of this?”

 

Alex closed his journal and looked at her. “Izzie’s smart and Sloane’s an egotistical ass that sleeps with anything that wears a skirt. She can handle him.”

 

“I know she can. It’s just that, something’s different with Izzie . . .” Meredith mumbled  to herself, a little annoyed that she was the only one who could see that something was going on with Izzie.

 

After a few moments of silence, Alex stood up and headed for the door, and opened it. But just before leaving, he turned back to Meredith and looked at her.  Softly he asked, “Would you be bubbly and perky if the six month anniversary of your fiancé’s death was coming up in a couple of weeks?”

 

His eyes met Meredith’s, as he tried to make her understand. “ She’s coping, Meredith. She’s not going to bitch to everybody about her feelings like she usually does. She lost Denny, the guy she was in love with. She’s handling it . . . just let her do it in her own way . And as much as I dislike her having anything to do with Sloane, it makes sense.”

 

Meredith’s brows rose in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

 

“He’s the only one who wasn’t here when Denny died. Sloane hasn’t been tainted with his death . . . he doesn’t remind her of it.” He broke his gaze and left the room, leaving Meredith with the old man, to think about what he just said.

 

Meredith closed her eyes, trying to ignore the realization and the feeling of powerlessness that was hitting her. “Damn, Izzie. You’re hurting and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

 

The old man’s gasp for air seemed to agree with her.

 

*****