Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's.
If anyone who's confused this is after 02x18; where Mark comes and asks Addison to come back with him to New York. In this story she accepts; and this is what happens after. You can find me on Instagram cristinasyangs.
Home
In the end you come back to him, to New York, with a strange kind of hope that maybe this time, things are different.
You send Derek divorce papers immediately after you arrive in New York; your lawyers handle the entire affair and not once do you see Derek again. You have both the Hamptons and the brownstone, but sell both because of the history, and all the memories—you were determined to make new memories, with Mark this time, but you don't think you can there, with memories of you and Derek resurfacing every waking moment. Mark sells his apartment, and the both of you try and find a new house, a home. Maybe things will be better this time around.
The whole Seattle thing was a mess. Derek was head-over-heels in love with his intern, and though you desperately tried to mend the rift between the both of you there was no fixing anything. Your marriage couldn't be saved, so when Mark came, you decided to finally tag along with him back to New York. Mark loved you, that was plain to see, and you don't know if you really loved him the two months you spent with him or if it was just your pride talking—after all, you didn't want to ever admit that you gave it all up for a fling. You meet him in the bar when he asks you to, and everything goes from there.
You still have your old job when you go back, and life goes on. Drearily. You and Mark fall into a routine comfortable enough for the both of you, and you turn out happier than you were in Seattle with Derek. Gossip about you and Mark runs rampant between your colleagues, but you pay them no mind, perceiving them not as threats but as jealousy. Both of you were happier than the rest of them combined, anyways.
Both of you have sex—the angry kind, mostly, even though the both of you aren't really angry at each other, or maybe you are but you just don't see it—most of the time, and you don't bother using protection even after accidentally getting pregnant despite you taking birth control and all the other precautions, like the morning after pill you took the morning after the night your now-dead child was conceived. You don't talk about the abortion. You don't ever talk about the abortion. Though you linger on it sometimes, whenever you see babies that could have been yours, if only you realized a couple of things early on.
Mark takes you out on dates whenever he can; he's still his old self, only this time he remains faithful to only you and never sleeps around with anyone ever again. You don't know when it starts, but you feel your heart start to burst at the sight of his grin and the sound of his laugh reverberating deep in your ears, your whole body tingling whenever he wraps his arms around your waist unknowingly when he sleeps, your mind going in circles when he whispers he loves you against your ear at night when he thinks that you're asleep but you actually aren't.
You love him too. You didn't throw everything away for a fling, after all—and you start to believe that the things that are lost to you always have ways of coming back if they're meant to be yours.
You tell him you love him the first time one sunny afternoon in Central Park, your hands linked together and an azure sky overhead. It was lunchtime, and he managed to convince you to get out of the hospital for a while to go get lunch and some fresh air. It was sudden, you say it out of the blue as you walk along benches while reading the inscriptions on each of them—a simple "I love you," which made him stop and look at you with a bizarre look on his face before throwing on a big smile and pressing his lips onto yours.
"I love you too, Addison." he breathes against your lips, and you relish at just how much it felt good to finally say that, to finally let him know that you loved him too. You make love that evening for the first time, taking your sweet time exploring each other's bodies yet again, enjoying every thrust and kiss; every moan and touch.
Before you know it a full year has passed since the night you first slept with Mark. You don't have sex or make love, instead the both of you sleep in peace, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as you feel his breath against your scarlet waves. You know that he knows what exactly today meant. You marvel at how far you've come, how much you've changed. You wouldn't have it any other way. Mark loves you more than Derek ever did, and you wonder why you didn't end up with him in the first place—Mark has always loved you, but he used to just be yours and Derek's best friend and nothing more. You took him for granted, never seeing just how much love he had for you and only seeing the wrongs; how he slept with different women all the time that it was nothing short of a miracle that he didn't have an STD yet.
A miracle comes in the form of two straight lines on each of the three white sticks lined on top of yours and Mark's bathroom counter. He had been trying to convince you to take the test for three straight days, noting that all the signs were there and saying that you should have been the first one to notice since you were a neonatal surgeon and worked with pregnant women and babies all the time. You deny, still, though you have noticed a long time ago—you didn't have your period the month prior and the first thing to pop up in your head was that you were pregnant, but you brushed it off as stress because the memory of the abortion, though having happened a long time ago, was still fresh in your mind.
"Addie?" your head whips at the sound of the voice, Mark's voice, and you see him standing at the threshold of your bedroom, trying to find where you are.
"In here," you bellow, and you bite your bottom lip as you waited for him to come, leaning against the cold marble wall of your shared bathroom. You stare at the three sticks in front of you, your mind making up scenarios about you, Mark, and your future child. You imagine a girl, with Mark's hair and your eyes, running around the house, playing hide-and-seek with both you and Mark.
"Addison? What's—" Mark starts, but he stops himself at the sight of the pregnancy tests laid on top of the white marble. He silently picks one up, his eyes widening at the result, and take a peek at the other two, finding that they had the same result as the one he was holding.
"You're pregnant."
"I am."
"We're going to have a baby."
"We are."
He engulfs you in his embrace and you find comfort in his arms, and as he starts to laugh due to sheer joy you join him, and then take one of his hands and place it against your lower abdomen to where your child now lay. You don't think you could ever have had this kind of happiness with Derek.
You find out that you're 9 weeks along the next day with Mark, and you see your child for the first time through a black-and-white screen, a white blob against a vast black sea. You have the ultrasound printed, one for you and one for Mark, and though you don't know it yet, the days after you will find him staring at it more often than not whenever he can, and it is then that you know that it will be different, this time, that your child will have a good—no, not good, great—father. Later you ask him, quite suddenly, at dinner if you could maybe move to another city; another state; anywhere but where you now lived. New York did not hold the same charm it used to hold for you, and though it has been home for forever for the both of you, it was time to go. You tell him he can still take your baby to watch Yankees games in the future, and that you yourself won't forget to take her shopping—if it was a girl—in the city. New York will always be a part of your lives, and wherever you may go, even if you end up living on the other side of the world, you'll make sure New York will be a part of your child's life, too.
He says yes without a second thought, and you sell the house the both of you bought not even six months prior, handle all the affairs at the hospital both of you worked at, pack your bags, and leave.
Boston, it turns out, wasn't on the other side of the world. It was, in fact, just a few hours away from your old home. You find a new home there, one befitting your future family, and you imagine most days a house filled with the laughter of not one, but many children, children half you and half Mark running around the spacious grounds that surrounded your home. You imagine waking up to children jumping up and down yours and Mark's bed, children with red hair and azure eyes or blonde hair and emerald eyes, a perfect mix of their parents.
Hospitals fight over you in Boston because after all, who wouldn't want a world-class neonatal surgeon to be part of their staff? They offer you staggering salaries and numerous benefits, and boast of their state-of-the-art OB/GYN wards and NICUs. They mind not of your progressing pregnancy and in the end, after much consideration, you finally accept one of the many offers made to you.
Mark finds himself Head of Plastics and Otolaryngology at another hospital fifteen minutes away from where you worked, and though he'd rather much work at the same hospital as you, the institution you now worked at didn't have an opening which forced him to find work at another place. He calls you often, making sure that you weren't neglecting to take care of yourself as you did surgery after surgery on mothers who had specifically come to you for your help.
Richard calls you for the first time after leaving Seattle a month after you and Mark settle down in Boston. You have no idea how he managed to contact you, but you accept his offer after finding out how dire the patient's condition was, knowing that you were the only person that could help both the woman and her baby. You know Mark wouldn't be thrilled with the idea of you going to back to Seattle where Derek was, but this was your job and you needed to save peoples' lives. He needed to understand that.
You tell him as soon as he comes home. You tell him that you agreed to come to Seattle without asking him first and, as you expected, the both of you fight for the first time in a very long time. You were right: he didn't want you to come back to Seattle, and you tell him that was being childish and he tells you you were being selfish, and you fight until eventually, everything dies down and you tell him that you were going to Seattle without his blessing or not. You let him be.
But when he refutes that you still love Derek, everything blows out of proportion. You don't cry; not a tear is shed when you tell him in anger to get out, to leave the house and not come back, your voice cutting through the tension like steel. He does so without a fight, his anger and jealousy getting the best of him. You only break down once you're sure he's gone, your legs giving away beneath you as you fall against the cold, hard floor, and you want to hit yourself for wishing that he was there to comfort you, to make it all right. You don't love Derek. You haven't loved him in a long time. And for Mark to even say… it hurt you more than anything else.
You don't know when you pick yourself up and slip under the covers of yours and Mark's bed, your hands shakily cradling your burgeoning belly as you whisper, almost like a prayer, that everything was going to be alright, your eyes still full of tears that fell in cascades against your cheeks. You fall asleep, only to wake at the sound of the door to the house opening and closing loudly a few hours later. Soon enough, Mark stumbles into your room faintly smelling of alcohol, and you look at him closely through swollen, red-rimmed eyes. He looked miserable and regretful.
"Addison," he rasps, too attentive enough to be considered intoxicated. You thank the heavens that he wasn't drunk, not even a little. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
He stops himself short and instead walks to your side, and you close your eyes as he does, afraid that one look at him will make the tears erupt once more. He gently lifts your upper body, sits on the bed, and has you rest against his muscled chest, his arms wrapped around you as the tears you'd been trying to avoid start to form. You make little effort to protest. He softly lays a hand against your stomach and rubs circles with his thumb soothingly against the swell where your child lay, and though you try even harder to suppress your overwhelming emotions you give in and soon enough you combust. You sob against him, your tears quickly wetting his shirt as he whispered his apologies against your pomegranate-colored locks.
"I'm so sorry, Addison. I love you. I'm sorry. I love you so damn much, Ad. It will never happen again. I'm sorry."
"I don't… love… Derek," you manage to say, and you take a long deep breath to compensate for the air you lost due to crying. You press against him and he holds you even tighter, and when you look at him once more you find that his eyes are red-rimmed, too, as if he was on the verge of crying but was suppressing the urge to.
Maybe he was afraid that you'll leave him once you see your ex-husband in Seattle. You want to tell him no, that you won't, but the words don't come out. You love him and only him, you were going to have a child together—and Mark has made you more happier than Derek has the eleven years you spent with him, and you'd be an idiot to let him go.
"I know you don't." Mark answers, "I was stupid, Ad. I know you don't love him. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry."
He holds you close to him that night as you slumbered, and somehow the next day when you wake you know that he hasn't slept a wink, his mind haunted by the words he so carelessly said and the underlying fear that you'd leave him again, this time with your child with you.
The sun was up and shining when you wake. You immediately sit up when you see the time on the clock atop your nightstand but he lays a hand gently on your arm and says, "We're staying in. I called them and said you were going to come in late."
"Mark," you berate, pulling the covers off your legs and preparing to stand, a hand below your abdomen to support your balance.
"Please, Addison." he replies and you oblige, not wanting to start another argument. You lean against the bed's headboard, rubbing the swell of your belly up and down as you feel the flutters once more, hoping to finally be able to feel the baby kick and move around inside you. Mark lays his hand atop your hand, his hand completely covering yours, and for a moment you want to forget; to have his arms around you as he engulfs you in his embrace, where you feel safe and sound. But what he did you couldn't forget that easily, because how could he think that way after everything the both of you have been through the past year?
"About last night…" he starts, but stops when he feels your body tense up and your hand freeze against his.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"No." he counters, "I'm sorry, Ad. I shouldn't—I shouldn't have said that. I was stupid, and I hurt you. Again. I love you. You and the baby are the two most important things in my life, and I messed everything up completely last night."
"How could you think that way?" you ask, your voice rising. Your throat tightens and you curse your pregnancy hormones for making you overemotional. "I came back. To New York. With you. We've been together for almost a year. We're going to have a baby, Mark. In a few months we're going to be a family. How could you say that?"
"I'm not going to leave you again," you say in a whisper, "if that's what you're afraid of. I love you, Mark. I'm never going to leave you again."
"I know you won't." he admits, "I'm just—I'm scared, Ad. I don't want to lose you and the baby."
"You're not going to."
"I'm sorry. It's never going to happen again. I love you, Addison. I want this life with you. I don't want to mess us up again. I'm trying, but I got scared and Seattle—Seattle was where you went when you left me. It's been more than a year but… I'm sorry. I don't ever want to lose you again."
You don't argue with him when he decides to come to Seattle with you. That night you get on a plane and arrive in Seattle early the next day, checking into a hotel and getting a little bit of rest before going to the hospital.
You and Mark walk hand-in-hand through the doors of Seattle Grace, and you swear you've never had so much people look at you before. News of your pregnancy spreads like fire, there, almost everyone intrigued by the medium-sized bulge in place of your once-flat stomach. You find yourself wanting to cradle your belly protectively, as if looks could hurt the baby inside, but still you trudge on, greeting Richard with a rueful smile and a hug once you see him.
Richard leads you to the surgical floor where your patient was situated, a pregnant mother who had just suffered spinal injury. The pregnancy itself was delicate, the child needed surgery directly after being born due to a tumor compressing its airways. The mother, on the other hand, needed spinal surgery before the damage on her spine affected her organ functions even more drastically. If something went wrong during surgery, the child would need to be delivered via C-section, and you and one of the neuro attendings—you desperately hoped it wouldn't be your ex-husband—would have to go in and operate.
Somehow you weren't surprised when you found Derek inside the room, briefing your patient about the surgery that was going to be performed on her. His smile fades upon seeing both you and Mark, and at the sight of your rounded belly he looks at you with a strange expression you can't quite pinpoint.
"Addison." Derek mutters, and immediately you feel Mark's hand clasp against yours. You cast Mark a look, telling him that it was okay, that Derek won't harm you. Mark leaves, begrudgingly, along with Richard, and as they do you hear your former mentor asking Mark if he wanted a tour of the hospital or not.
"Dr Shepherd," you greet, and you notice Meredith Grey standing just next to him. "Dr. Grey."
You introduce yourself to your patient, and brief her about your part of the surgery, to which the woman listens attentively. At 32 weeks, her baby was older than yours by 3 months—a good chance if her baby needed to be delivered during surgery.
"How far along are you?" the woman inquires after you're done explaining, and though you'd rather much leave the room and put as much space between you and Derek as possible, you reply.
"22 weeks." you answer. You weren't really comfortable about talking about your pregnancy in front of Derek and Meredith.
"Do you know what you're having? I'm having a girl."
"We opted not to know." you tell her, and directly after that you ask her whether or not she had questions for either you or Derek and when she declines, you leave in an instant, in pursuit of Mark. You have yet to study and plan the surgery with Derek. You didn't want to spend more time with him than you had to.
When you do go to surgery, however, you end up spending more time with your ex-husband than you originally thought, because you spend the almost the whole day operating on your patient's baby's tumor. You spend it in silence, mostly, until Derek starts talking and asking you about Mark and New York, and though you answer not even one of his questions he continues, mocking you with a smirk on his face.
"Has Mark slept with anyone yet, Addison?" Derek asks tauntingly, and immediately you look up at the viewing gallery and see Mark stand up suddenly, his fists clenched and an angry expression on his face. He's had it. "Once a manwhore, always a manwhore, Addie."
"Mark and I are happy." you don't push it. You didn't want to jeopardize your patient's life because of Derek's immaturity. And you certainly didn't want to cause trouble. "Happier than you and I ever were."
The rest of surgery passes by in a breeze, and once you're done the baby was as good as new and was to have a long, defect-less life.
You leave Seattle with a light heart. You did make the right choice—nothing in Seattle has changed, and coming back made you realize all the reasons why you left in the first place. If you hadn't left, you wouldn't have Mark and the baby growing inside you; if anything, you might still even be as miserable as you were during the time you lived with Derek in his trailer. You were happy with the life you had now. Seattle held nothing for you.
You soon have a son, and though you claim that angels don't exist you take it back when you lay your eyes on him for the first time. Alexander Everett Montgomery-Sloan was an angel; an angel who resembled Mark, his father, the most. All he has of you are his eyes, but you wouldn't have it any other way. And, as you look at your newborn with tears in your eyes you thank the fates for giving you this—a family.
Alexander, nicknamed 'Alex,' grows up very much loved, more loved than both you and Mark were growing up. Both of you make sure that he knows just how loved he is, and an unspoken vow comes into effect between the two of you that your child—and other children that were yet to come—will always be taken care of by the both of you and never maids, cooks, their best friend's mother, governesses and nannies.
You and Mark aren't married yet, but most days you forget because heck, you two already act like you're married, anyways. When you do decide to get married, you do it in the middle of the night, both you and Mark in casual clothes with only your 6-and-a-half month old son in attendance, quietly snoozing inside his baby carrier. It was sudden, quite like going out in the middle of the night on a whim, but you wouldn't have it any other way. You could have a big, beautiful wedding with 200 people in attendance but it wouldn't matter if the person you were marrying wasn't the one you were going to spend your entire life with. You and Derek had a big wedding but ended up divorced, anyways.
You go on a honeymoon with Mark to Fiji soon after—after all, what was a wedding without a honeymoon—and though you would have loved to take Alex with you, you leave him with Nancy (who was absolutely ecstatic when you asked her to watch over your son) in Connecticut. Despite you and Derek getting divorced Nancy, along with Derek's other sisters, still treated you as if you were one of their sisters. They acted rather unperturbed with how you and Derek divorced; Nancy was even elated when she found out you and Mark tied the knot—she was, however, disappointed that you didn't invite her.
Fiji was paradise. You spend five whole days there; five whole days away from all the stress. You missed Alex dearly, however, and if only you could take him with you you would have. You missed surgery too, and you can tell that Mark does as well. You have fun, nonetheless. Fiji was a memorable experience and you vowed to come back someday with your children in tow.
Coincidentally, Fiji was where you were able to conceive your second child, you find out two months later when you start experiencing bouts of morning sickness and decide to take a test which turned out positive.
Another angel joins your family a little while after Alex is one. Harper Adrienne Montgomery-Sloan is all you; a tuft of red shimmering hair and eyes a mix of emerald and blue. She's the most perfect baby you've ever seen—a tie with her brother. Harper and her brother are the most perfect babies you've ever seen your whole career.
Time passes and soon enough Alex and Harper are old enough to not rely on either you or Mark all the time—though you argue that Harper, still, was dependent. They were still little children but they could walk and talk now, Alexander was four and Harper was three.
You wake to the sound of children laughing just outside yours and Mark's bedroom. Your eyes search the perimeter of the room; everything was in shape with no sign of the children being in the room prior. Mark was snoring soundly next to you, his arm atop your flat stomach to where your third child now lay. You found out just recently and hadn't had the chance to tell him yet but you will, soon. When the door opens slightly you close your eyes immediately, wanting to know what exactly your children were up to without them knowing.
"Quiet, Harper!" Alex hisses, "You might wake Mommy and Daddy up."
"I'm sorry," the small voice of your mini-me follows, and afterwards you hear the door creak and the quiet pitter-patter of feet that stop at the foot of your bed. Someone climbs up—Harper, you deduce, since the weight was considerably lighter—then Alex, who almost loses his footing in the process which sends you into slight panic.
"On three." your eldest child whispers, "One, two—"
"Three!" The mattress bounces up and down beneath you, and within the span of a millisecond Mark's snoring ceases and he jolts awake in an instant, yelling, "Addi—!"
"Daddy!" Harper giggles and Mark scoops her into his arms and deposits her next to you. Alex ceases jumping just as Mark wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him next to Harper. You wrap an arm around your second child and hold her close, breathing in her sugary scent as she squirms against your hold, shouting, "Mommy!"
"We're going to the zoo today, aren't we, Daddy?" Alex says, "You promised last week."
"Of course we are. With Mommy and Harper."
"I wanna see the ele-ants!" Harper adorably says, and you plant a kiss on her forehead just as she giggles once more. You'd give everything just for her to stay as young and innocent as she is.
"Elephants, sweetheart." you correct gently, and Harper repeats after you.
"Ele-elepha-ants! Elephants." Harper says then laughs, and you join her.
"I want to see the lions," Alex states, "lions are way cooler than elephants, Harper."
"No, they're not!" Harper replies, and sensing that an argument was about to arise Mark jumps in almost immediately.
"Elephants are just as cool as lions, A. Aren't they, Harper?"
"See, Alex? Daddy said so."
He's a good father. He dotes on them and spoils them, even—you constantly have to berate him not to give in to Harper's and Alex's wishes every time the family goes to the mall. There was never a dull moment when the four of you—soon to be five—were together.
Mark starts tickling both Alex and Harper and their laughs fill the room; you join with them. And as you lay there, with Mark and your children you realize this: home isn't a place. Home is a person.
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