Nine Months, Part 1

It was a cold, lonely Thursday night in New York. The sun had already set, and a clock in the next room said it was almost ten o'clock. There, on the toilet seat, sat the lovely Addison Montgomery-Shepherd in all that was left of her glory. In her hand was a long white stick that, upon further observation, could be recognized as a pregnancy test, and the horrified look on Mrs. Shepherd's face said it all.

Had this been any other night, had someone else been in the next room, Addison would have been ecstatic. Under any sort of "normal" circumstances, she would have wanted this, but things around here hadn't been normal in a long time. Derek was not in the next room sleeping on their bed, and she was not carrying his child. Instead, Mark Sloan was lying in a pile of sheets and blankets on top of what once was the Shepherds' bed, and was now simply Addison's.

When Derek left, things had gotten rough for Addison, and she turned to Mark. Again. They had been living together for about two months now, and things were rocky, at best. He was having affairs with other women, though she didn't let on that she knew, and their entire relationship -- even from the beginning -- seemed to be based on orgasms and sweet, dirty whispers in the hallways of the hospital. She thought she loved him, but she seemed to be questioning herself everyday.

So here she sat, alone in a half-lit bathroom with a little white stick in her hand. Her long, red hair hung down in her shameful face. She looked both expressionless and, somehow, sad. There was a deep sorrow within the pit of her stomach, knowing that she had managed to ruin her marriage and now she was carrying the child of the man who had helped ruin said marriage. She loved Derek. Did she love Mark? She did. She thought.

Standing up slowly, Addison gingerly sat the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter and turned to face the mirror above the bathroom sink. She stared at herself, wondering how she got here, and why was she so unhappy? Granted she wasn't with Derek, but she had someone, and now she was going to have a baby. She quickly did the math in her head and sighed deeply. She would probably have the baby in mid-January, but she was beginning to wonder if she wanted to have it at all. It wasn't Derek's. She wanted Derek's baby.

The surgeon ran both hands through her hair and sniffled a bit. Were those tears? That was when Addison realized that there was no way out of this. She had gotten herself into this mess, though, and she was determined to find a way to get herself out of it. Damn him! Damn all of this! This whole situation was going completely out of her control, now. She continued telling herself that this wasn't Derek's child. She couldn't have it! She couldn't tell Mark! But then, by not telling him, that would be making her a bad person. Wouldn't it?

She couldn't very well not tell him. "Oh, God," came the words out of Addison's mouth as she closed her eyes and placed both hands on the counter, opening her eyes to stare at the floor. She couldn't do this. She was questioning Mark's ability to be a father, but more importantly, she was questioning herself. Not just about the baby, but about everything. What would have happened if she hadn't had the affair with Mark? Would she and Derek be together right now?

Probably not, Addison told herself. Their marriage, truthfully, had ended a long time ago. Yes, they were still married, and she was still Addison Montgomery-Shepherd, but what does a name have to do with anything? Legally, they were together, and Addison did still love him, but he had pushed her away. There was a great divide between them that could not be fixed, and God knows Addison tried to make things work, but when things got bad enough, she sought refuge in the arms of Derek's best friend.

Like it or not, Addison knew that she had to tell Mark about the baby. Standing up straight, she sniffled again as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was a broken woman, whose husband had run off and whose lover now slept in the bed she once shared with that husband. Everything was so screwed up, but maybe she could start over. Or maybe not. She was trying to stay positive, but things were hard. She wiped her face off with her hands and took a deep breath.

The woman turned to the door and placed her hand on the door handle, standing there hesitantly. Slowly, as she was unsure of herself and this whole situation, she turned it and opened the door. The bedroom was dark and silent, but she heard the body of Mark Sloan turn over to face her, and he groaned. "Addison?" he said, though it was more of a question than anything. "Come to bed," he ordered, though he wasn't really forceful about it.

Addison stood there for a moment, glancing about the dark room, before she finally took a few steps toward the bed. Her hand went to a lamp that was on a nightstand next to her side of the bed and turned it on. This time, Mark rolled over and covered his eyes. Addison took a quick look at the man before her, wearing nothing at all, but a sheet covered much of his muscled body. "Mark?" Addison asked into the dark, knowing he probably wouldn't turn to face her. "Mark?"

"What?" came the response from the cranky man before her. All he wanted was some sleep.

"We need to talk."