A few things first... Title comes from the song "Both Sides, Now" by Joni Mitchell. I actually made a playlist for while I'm writing this fanfiction. It's called "Pens (From Both Sides Now)" and you can search for it on Spotify if you're interested in some relevant background noise as you read. Remember, this is Addek, not Maddison, and be aware of changing points of view for each chapter (though most will be Addison).
Just before our love got lost you said,
"I am as constant as a northern star"
And I said, "Constantly in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I'll be in the bar."
-A Case of You, Joni Mitchell
Addison rolled off and away from him to stare at the ceiling, Persian-green sheets pulled up to her chin, matching eyes wide with fixation on nothing in particular. It was eleven-fifteen, but she didn't need to see the alarm clock to know that; it was always eleven-fifteen when her husband's snores reached her ears. And so it had been for three years. They had wed in a casual haste—casual, because Montgomeries did not have panicky shotgun weddings, even in the midst of a panicky shotgun wedding. People had certainly talked, but she had not cared. She had loved her husband, loved the child growing in her womb. Yet, she still seemed to be naked and unfulfilled while the man next to her slowly dragged the covers toward him in his sleep.
Rolling over onto her side, she had a clear view of Central Park through the other side of the floor-to-ceiling picture window across the room. Her usual eleven-seventeen vista. It was truly breathtaking, or so the realtor had told them. And, spying her burgeoning belly, having such close proximity to the park, the brownstone would be ideal for a new family. Initially, her husband had not wanted to touch any of Addison's trust fund, but she could see in his eyes how much he wanted this place. So she bought it. He had not been very happy about that, Addison reflected, but more important things had come their way not long after, and everything else had been put onto the back burner. For a while, that burner had included her, too, but after thousands of dollars in couples' therapy, they managed to make time for one another again—always between eleven and eleven-fifteen p.m.
Lying virtually alone in the dark, unable to sleep even though she was perpetually exhausted, was not how Addison Montgomery had planned to live her life as a girl, or even just five years ago. Granted, her childhood had not quite been picturesque, either. Things could be worse, though. She worked at a private hospital with her best friend, Naomi, and her husband had recently made partner at a private practice, which came with a large pay increase and regular hours. Her best friend's husband, Sam, worked nearby, so it was easy for the four of them to get together often. Even still, they rarely did. Addison was hardly the only person having relationship troubles. Her brother, Archer, was a short cab ride away, but now that she thought about it, she had not heard from him for quite some time. He had stopped hanging around so much after the wedding, and the baby... Derek had taken a job in Seattle, too, around two years ago. She imagined it was not exactly fun being the third or, often, fifth wheel all the time. And she knew Mark had become "too busy" for his friend since taking the job at the practice. Truth be told, Addison rather missed the years the three of them had spent as interns. Sam and Naomi had taken internships in Boston, but Addison, Mark, and Derek had always been inseparable. Then everything had fallen apart, as good things in her life had the tendency to do. Sam and Naomi got married and moved back to the city, but things were not the same.
Many things weren't, and every night, Addison Montgomery, who had opted not to take her husband's last name, sent out her silent laments. She had never been religious, never been certain about what was out there or what came next or if anything even mattered—but every night, she would recount all the things keeping her awake, and they were the like her prayers. Her daughter, her marriage, her friendships, her job—these were high on the list. And it seemed like every night the list became longer, and sleep became another minute delayed. Tonight, she added her linens to the list. Far down, past her new Jimmy Choo's giving her blisters, but she was cold.
Come morning, Addison jarred awake, as often she did, for no particular reason at all. She frowned at the empty expanse of her four-poster, manicured brows knitted at the smell of bacon. A glance at the alarm clock on Mark's side of the bed told her it was nine a.m. Still half-asleep, she panicked, wondering how she had slept in so late. As she bounded out of bed, throwing on a silken blue robe, she remembered that it was Saturday. She had already forgotten about the three-day weekend, that she didn't have to work today. Neither did Mark. Days like these were more stressful than they probably should have been.
"Hey," he said, though he was at the stove with his back to her when she entered the kitchen. "You really slept in."
"Yeah, I just—well, I was thirsty in the middle of the night, thought a Coke sounded nice. But it just gave me a caffeine buzz." She knew she probably wasn't fooling him—especially since she typically did not even drink soda—but it was better than the truth.
He didn't turn around, just flipped an egg and nodded silently. Lack of verbal response from Mark was a very big statement itself, she knew, but she was not about to offer up anymore information, lest he begin treating her like something easily broken again.
"I didn't get a chance to ask you last night; how did your big surgery go?" She slid onto a bar stool at the island counter and began peeling a banana from the fruit bowl in front of her.
"It didn't." He was turning off burners and dividing food onto plates—fried eggs and bacon for him, poached on whole grain for her. Now that she got a look at him, she couldn't help the jealousy that crept upon her. He looked so energetic and youthful, like he had hardly aged a day since beginning medical school some ten years ago, like he slept well every night. Addison knew she had to look rough, but she knew that if nothing else, her husband would not judge her for it.
"Reschedule, I hope...?" She found she didn't have the stomach to discuss death this morning. Or for anything on the ceramic plate the plastic surgeon had set before her.
He nodded again, sliding into the seat next to her a little more heavily than was probably necessary. "The melanomas are spreading, chemo isn't working like it should be. Kid needs a good ortho on this, and neuro on top of that." He frowned deeply, then bitterly tore a corner from his toast. "It's a good thing Derek's moving back. I can't stand Dr. Andersen.
She of course knew of his dislike for the neurosurgeon in his practice; it was not something he exactly tried to hide from anyone. The news about their old friend was a bit surprising though. "You didn't tell me that."
"What? Yeah, I totally did. I told you last week, as soon as I found out." He gaped at her incredulously.
Maybe he had, but she just hadn't been paying him any attention. It would hardly be the first time ... he really did talk quite a lot. "I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood you." She took a sip of the coffee Mark had given her with her plate. "But that's really good to hear. I never could picture him in Seattle, sitting in a cafe listening to grunge. Isn't that an odd thought?" She couldn't help smiling at her own joke.
Mark shrugged, mouth full of bacon. "I think you would be surprised, Add. He was engaged, you know. Seemed pretty happy there."
"I recall. Is he bringing this fiancee with him?" After Derek had left New York, they had ceased contact. It hadn't felt deliberate to Addison; he had been more Mark's friend than hers, and she knew if she wrote or called him, it would feel out of place. She and Mark were married now... most of her friends had suddenly become women. Besides, she was never entirely sure if Derek even liked her at all; he had always been a bit distant, almost as if he only hung out with her because of Mark.
Her husband was piling eggs onto his toast, not bothering to look away from his work. "It didn't sound like it. I think they might have broken up."
"You mean you didn't ask? Mark, these are the kinds of things you ask people about."
He glanced up, and she could see the annoyance in his eyes—blue, paler than hers, blue like their daughter's. "No, these are the kinds of things you ask people, Addison. I asked him when he would be here, where he would be staying, what date he would start work at the practice."
"He's going to be working with you?" She sipped her coffee, having decided that breakfast was just not in the cards this morning.
She saw his aggravation shift to exasperation as he wiped his hands on a napkin, and wondered if he knew just how easy to read he was. "Addison, I just said that. But yes, and you know, they want to make him partner? I've been there three years and they've only just asked me. Why would they make him partner when they haven't even met him?"
"To be fair, you did only just complete your fellowship. Anyway, maybe those were the terms, or else he wouldn't leave Seattle. He really is a brilliant surgeon; who else finishes up a fellowship in just one year?" She knew she had struck a nerve before her sentence was finished. For all his showboating and gloating, she knew he had always felt inadequate next to his friend.
"I don't know," he mumbled. "He'll be staying in an apartment near here. Just a couple blocks. It'll be like old times." He grinned now, and she knew he must be recalling long nights, girls he had managed not to impregnate, and plenty of trouble that she likely knew nothing about. The Mark of 2001 was not the Mark of the early nineties, though often she could feel that person trying to escape. That person, Nineties Mark, was not designed for marriage. She tried not to think about it, but she knew he felt trapped with her. She wasn't even sure why they were still trying to make things work at this point. She reminded herself that she loved him.
"When will he be here?" Maybe she could rally the troops and throw her friend a welcome home party … provided he still called New York home. No doubt two years across the country would change a person. She still couldn't picture her old friend as a Washingtonian.
"Monday," answered Mark as he took his plate to the sink. "He said his plane lands at eleven a.m. And I was wondering if maybe you could pick him up? I know you're off work that day, and a familiar face would do him good."
She really did not want to do that. "Okay," she found herself saying anyway.
The rest of Addison's weekend consisted of much the usual. She went shopping, made dinner, had lunch with her friend Sav, then stayed in and ordered Chinese, which she ate in the solitude of her office on Sunday evening. Mark was out. He used to bother with telling her where he was going, but he often did not anymore. She assumed he was watching sports at a bar, or maybe with Sam or Weiss or any of his other friends. Sometimes, she even wondered if he was with another woman. She could hardly blame him if he was, given how lackluster their lovemaking—once the highlight of their relationship—had become. But she still felt it unlikely; her husband was a good man, however much he might like to flirt or stare.
It was with these thougts filling her head that Addison climbed the stairs at eleven o'clock. There was still no husband beside her by eleven-fifteen, but despite how she knew she should feel about it, she could only smile. Tonight was different. Tomorrow, even more things would be different. She said her unorthodox prayers, and eventually drifted off to sleep, a little more quickly tonight.
AN: Thanks for reading so far. Pretty short, but Derek returns to New York in the next chapter!
