TRIAGE | grey's anatomy (ON HOLD INDEFINITELY)

008: "bad habits"

MARK SLOAN WAS HESITATING IN FRONT OF THE ENTRANCE TO SEATTLE-GRACE, ADJUSTING THE COLLAR OF HIS LEATHER JACKET AND TOUSLING HIS HAIR IN AN ATTEMPT AT PERFECTLY DISHEVELED, WHEN HE SAW HER. One of his colleagues from the private practice used to say Mark had a radar that pinged when in the vicinity of pretty women-- but this doctor had been a particular brand of desperate creepiness and given off a lack of charm that normally resulted in flirting via GHB, so Mark chose not to listen to him too closely. A real man could rely on his charm alone, a real man like Mark Sloan.

It wasn't like he was on the prowl; Mark was here, in fact, to convince someone that those days were over. To convince her that he was the right man despite a series of very wrong mishaps that had cumulated in their relationship. But it was that brief moment of skepticism, of thinking about what the hell he was doing across the country to chase after his childhood best friend's wife like a lost puppy, that awarded him his first glance of her.

Rain fell torrentially around her, but the woman didn't seem to care. She was sat on a bench near the parking lot, in a camel-colored coat and light-wash jeans. Mark could see her side profile, as her face was turned up to the storm. It was a plastic surgeon's wet dream; a bunny-sloped nose, high cheekbones, thick lashes, and full lips all situated on bare, tawny skin, despite the pallid Seattle weather. Her curls were soaking wet from the downpour, and so was her shirt, but the woman seemed to relish it. She was irresistibly beguiling, and Mark was not a strong enough man to shy away from a question like the one she posed.

Clementine's lovely meditative state was interrupted by the sudden absence of what should've been a never-ending drizzle. She peeked an eye open and blinked away water, brow creasing, as the rain still surrounded her but didn't fall on her. Confused, she whipped her head around, and her heart paused briefly as she made eye contact to a man with an umbrella, towering over her with his arm stretched like a true gentleman.

He was, without a doubt, one of the most breathtaking men she had ever seen. Tall and muscular, with brown hair speckled with silver and in need of a shave, and a debonair crooked smile. But as she quickly looked over his designer jeans and closely-fit black shirt, as the smell of a wonderfully expensive cologne washed over Clem, who was no fool, she pegged him instantly that this man was well aware of his impact on women.

"Um, hello?" Clem said, voice unsure. She brushed a soggy piece of hair out of her face.

The man's smile broadened widely. "Hey there."

That was all he said, confidently. The indent in Clementine's brow deepened, and she looked around. Was he mistaking her for someone else? "Can I, uh, ask what you're doing?"

That threw him off ever so slightly. "Oh. I just thought that you..."

"Thought I was having a petit mal seizure on the bench next to the hospital, and had happened to forget my umbrella?" Clem laughed, teasing. She knew she probably had looked catatonic to an outsider. "Not quite."

"Well, maybe. Not in those exact words, I would say, but if you needed a knight in shining umbrella, here I am." The man flirted, and then his sculpted eyebrow notched higher. "You're a doctor."

It wasn't a question. "Surgical intern," she semi-corrected. "And, no, I was not having a seizure. Nor am I a damsel in distress. Just enjoying the day."

"The incredibly gray, drizzly day," the stranger grimaced. "Right. Isn't it just lovely."

Clem laughed again, this time at his expression. It was vulnerably disgusted, like he couldn't help but let his revulsion of the rain leak through any charming exterior. "You're so obviously new to Seattle. And, well, I almost died about a week ago. The grass is greener on the other side, all that."