Juliet Dawson (juliet_dawson) wrote in sghospiital,
Juliet Dawson
juliet_dawson
sghospiital

Hospital lounge ( hoping you understand )

So after a long talk with Derek, they had decided ( or really he had decided for her ) that they were over. He didn't want to screw up her sibling relationship with Mark or compromise that in any way, so he'd removed himself from the picture. As noble of a gesture as that was, she didn't need people making decisions to protect her or spare her or any extra heartache. She believed that with time she could get Mark to understand or at least cut her a break about the whole Derek thing. But Derek didn't seem to want to fight, which was no surprise. He rarely did. Why should she be any different? He'd walked away from Addison and Meredith. She hadn't even meant anything to him. It was only a matter of time, and she should've known better. That still didn't make it any easier. It was almost as if it'd been a game - life was teasing her to see if she could still love . . . and she could, but nothing would ever come of it.

But then again she never got placed in an ideal situation - always the difficult ones. There wasn't a single aspect of her life that was simple and problem-free: not one. This was no exception.

As usual her day was slow, so she stopped by the lounge where she could temporarily take refuge and sort through her thoughts - or so she thought. Instead she found the room already occupied by the one person who she needed to see ( as much as she was dreading it ). A flicker of guilt was evident as hues rested on him, the door gently shut behind her. This wasn't supposed to be this way. She hadn't done anything wrong. Or maybe she had, but if that was the case, Mark had done the exact same thing. He had been with Addison when she was married to his best friend. How could he judge her when she didn't judge him for the choices he'd made? Was it that hard to understand? For a moment, she didn't know what to say - which was definitely a first for her. Hands were pressed together in front of her as she decided to address the issue but find an opening line that could lead up to the conversation they needed to have.

"How's your hand?" It didn't look too bad, but it could still hurt. She would've asked him the day before, only he stayed pretty busy up until the time he left, and she'd decided not to bother him at home. Her tone was laced with concern, although she still wasn't happy with the way he'd reacted. But she figured she'd already conveyed that.
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