All I Want Is This

34

Mark Sloan was only a few years old when he last said a pray. He used to do it before bedtime, each time he slept over his grandmother's house, who was telling him that angels would watch his sleep and help him wake up smiling.

Mark prayed all the time he drove to the hospital. This time he didn't pray for nice dreams or anything for himself. Meredith and Alicia were in his prayers.

The pain made him numb. He was exhausted and yet he felt like flying while he ran along the familiar hallways of the hospital; he was out of breath and yet he was breathing. His feet stopped instantly when met Izzie's Stevens worried eyes.

"Dr. Sloan," tears trembled in her eyes as she saw him coming.

Mark felt cold chills sweeping through his body and had to remember how to breathe and form words. He swallowed the big lump from his throat. "Where is she?"

"How... who told you?" Izzie stammered.

"Where is she?" Mark demanded when it was obvious that Izzie wouldn't tell.

George came out of breath as well, stopping beside Izzie. "He saw me leaving the house," he panted, resting his forehead against the island. "What happened?" he asked her when he was able to breathe evenly again.

"Apparently, she's pregnant. Very pregnant."

Mark had given up on finding out anything from Izzie. He wandered around, checking each room. Izzie's words sent another wave of chills through his body. She was still pregnant, he kept telling himself in encouragement. Then he saw her through a window. She was lying in a hospital bed, sleeping and looking like she could hardly breathe.

His feet were numb and they slowly managed to walk him into the room.

"What are you doing here?" Cristina greeted him with an angry hiss. She stood up, but didn't let go of Meredith's hand.

Mark couldn't have tell who exactly was beside Meredith's bed or if someone else was there. His eyes locked on her sleepy face, washed by drops of sweat. He stopped at her feet and felt tears flooding his eyes as he watched her painful sleep, the way she clutched on the blanket.

"Meredith," he said softly, pleading, as he walked beside her.

"Leave!" Cristina grabbed his hand when he wanted to touch her.

Mark jerked his hand off her grip and retorted with a glare. Nothing was going to keep him away from Meredith from now on. It hurt him... it killed him to see her pain, but he couldn't turn his back on her again and leave her. Mark took her cold and sat down, though there was no chair beside her bed. He knelt next to her bed and as he kissed her hand, he cradled it between his.

Still holding her hand, Mark stood up and sat on the edge of the bed, half-lying beside her. He gently ran his hand over her damp forehead, wiping the sweat off. "What's her condition?" he asked quietly, but still bossing.

Cristina was defeated by Mark's pain and softened her glare. "She's running fever and convulsions. They gave her a light sedative to help her calm down."

Mark glanced at Meredith abdomen and didn't dare to ask.

"She doesn't need more stress," Cristina said quietly, knowing what he wanted to hear. "She wants this baby and you'd better stay away."

Mark managed a faint smile as he looked down at Meredith. If rest and peace were what she and the baby needed, he could help them. He pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down, without letting go of Meredith's hand even for a second.

"Meredith," he whispered softly in her ear, gently brushing her forehead.

Meredith grasped on his hand and whimpered sleepily. "Mark," she murmured with a sigh.