Title: Safe From Harm
Author: MadisonL
Disclaimer: All characters were created by Shonda Rhimes and are owned by ABC. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: The conversation that led to the transcontinental booty call.
Author's Note: I know a lot of people have discussed what they think would be Mark/Addison's song, and mine would be "Run To You" by Whitney Houston.
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As Addison had emphatically informed the Chief that morning, she was prepared to become wasted…completely, totally, and utterly toasted through a day's worth of drinks at the Emerald City Bar. She would undoubtedly pay for the day's festivities the following morning, but she was not going to worry about the unpleasant consequences until tomorrow morning.
She had spent her whole life worrying about the next step, the next item on the to-do list, and where had it gotten her? The infamous role as the trampled soon-to-be ex-wife, who had watched her soon-to-be ex-husband be whisked away by the squinty-eyed stares of an intern, not only while they were supposed to be "rebuilding" their marriage but also when she was standing within earshot!
She deserved better, damn it.
God, why had she even come here? Had she really thought Derek would have wanted her back, after so easily detaching himself from her existence – her presence – in New York? He had not called, had not stayed in touch, despite their mutual agreement that they were "working things out."
At first, Addison had suspected that Derek was trying to hide from her by running off to the other side of the country. Then again, he could not have been so dense as to not have realized that the upper-crust medical world was a very small circle.
Where had she gone wrong? She was Addison Montgomery Shepherd, beautiful, intelligent, successful, and untouchable; there had been a time when Derek could not keep his hands off her.
Now, Derek could not stand touching her. Yes, there had been sex after Addison traveled to Seattle, but they were both well aware that it was different…forced, to say the least. There was no passion and no urgency – only the familiarity of having shared the same last name for the past eleven years and the same bed for even longer.
Addison should have known, that very moment Derek had walked out the door that rainy night so long before, that their future together – needless to say, their marriage – was over. Derek had simply given up; he probably had never even thought about forgiving her. Considering how she had found out about his new extracurricular activity, Addison knew that Derek had never cared how she would react to the news.
Standing outside the bar on this misty Seattle morning, Addison felt pathetic. Lonely, bitter, frustrated, sad, and pathetic…she didn't even have clean clothes on, for heaven's sake. She needed something – or someone – to make her feel alive, wanted, needed, desired, and beautiful.
The only problem was that the best pick-me-up she had in her life was currently across the country.
Ironically – or perhaps, fittingly – enough, she had been at dinner with Mark. They were at one of their favorite restaurants, a small, cozy Italian restaurant that was less-populated by other big-name physicians in the city. They were celebrating Mark's updated list of clients, which now included seven of the ten wealthiest families in the area.
At that time, it was hard for Addison to guess if Mark would simply walk her to the door of her condo, or if he would spend the night. She was not sure was she was hoping for that evening, especially now that she had finally adjusted to living alone in her and Derek's large brownstone townhouse.
Just when dessert had arrived, Derek's sister had entered the restaurant. The two women were old friends; in fact, Jennifer Shepherd was the person who had introduced Addison and Derek to each other in the first place. Jennifer had, of course, not approved of Addison's adultery, but she had been even less supportive of Derek's decision to abandon their marriage.
"Mark," Jennifer had said crisply, "this is a surprise."
Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Jennifer," he returned with just as much cordiality. "You are looking well."
Of course, more than either Addison or Derek, Jennifer had a blatant dislike and distrust of Mark Sloan, who had been the impetus for the unraveling of the Shepherd's happy marriage. She knew very well that Addison had all but moved in with Mark after Derek had left for Seattle, and lately the two women had made deliberate efforts to avoid each other.
Jennifer had glowered at Mark for a moment before turning her attention to her sister-in-law. "Have you heard from Derek lately?" She asked sweetly.
Addison fiddled with the corner of her cloth napkin. "Not since my birthday, no."
"Oh, then you haven't heard the news?"
Addison's eyes narrowed in confusion. "No, I suppose I don't."
Jennifer toyed with the bangles on her slender wrist. "Mark, you're on top of things…I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."
Addison's gaze slid from Jennifer's to Mark's, where she found guilt and pity. "What is it I need to know?"
"I would suggest, Addison," Jennifer said lightly, "that if you have any intention of repairing your marriage to my brother, you should consider investing in a plane ticket to Seattle, Washington. I believe Derek has someone he would like you to meet." She lips curved, though her smile was grim. "I don't suppose that Derek cheating on you, after you cheated on him, makes his actions any more noble, does it?"
With that, Jennifer had walked away to join her own dinner party, and Addison had bolted – right then and there – from the restaurant to call a cab. She had hoped to leave before Mark had a chance to pay the tab, but he was quicker than she gave him credit for.
"Addison, stop it!" Mark shouted, coming up behind her and slamming the taxi door before she had a chance to climb in. "Addison, listen to me."
"Don't touch me!" She screamed, wrenching her arms away, even though she knew it was a futile effort. "You knew that Derek was seeing someone in Seattle? And you didn't tell me?"
He grabbed her shoulders and twisted her around, pressing her arms between them so that she could not punch at him. "Addison, I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you, I didn't know how. What was I supposed to say?"
She was sobbing now, the ice queen who had fallen from grace. "I have to go to Seattle."
"Listen to yourself. You have to go to Seattle? For what? To try and win Derek back? To convince him that he still loves you?"
Addison glared at him. "We are Addison and Derek Shepherd," she hissed. "He loves me, I know he does. I just need to remind him why and bring him home."
Mark released her, throwing his hands up in aggravation. "Addison," he roared, "I love you. I am asking you to stay with me, here, in New York. You are home. What more do you want?"
She stared – gaped, really – at his admission. They stood, faces inches from each other, both breathing heavily, eyes glimmering in the moonlight and faces raw with emotion.
Mark watched Addison swallow, hard, and take a step back. Without another word, she whirled on her heel, flung open the backseat door and crawled in. She offered him a final fleeting glance before slamming the door shut behind her, leaving him alone on the sidewalk.
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"Dr. Sloan?" Pamela trilled, falling into step beside the physician; she had to quicken her step to keep up with his long strides. "Dr. Sloan, there's a phone call for you on line one."
He paused and looked at her with a grimace. "Can you tell him I'll call back later? I'm late for a meeting with the Chief."
Normally, Pamela would have obliged, considering Dr. Sloan usually never had a free minute until early in the evening, when he would sit down to transcribe the day's visits. More accurately, Pamela would have never bothered Dr. Sloan with the notice of a phone call, and would have forwarded the caller straight to his voicemail.
This, however, was different.
The receptionist, in her late sixties though she looked barely over the hill, had come to see Mark Sloan as a second son, which meant all his activities – work or extracurricular – mattered to her. Pamela steered the doctor off to the side of the nurses' lounge.
"Dr. Sloan," she said, dropping her voice, "the caller is a she. It sounded quite urgent, from what I could tell –"
He glanced at his watch and adjusted the leather legal pad holder under his arm. She could see that he was growing more irritable by the second. "If it's a patient you'll just have to send her to ER or to –"
"It's long distance," Pamela interrupted briskly. "Area code 2-0-6."
His face froze, just as she had expected it to, and the glare in his gaze softened considerably. His eyebrows knitted together, creating a crease between his eyes. He looked around, as if to check if anyone was eavesdropping.
"It sounded urgent, you said?" He asked.
Pamela eyed him from head to toe, taking in his lightly gelled hair, his dark green polo shirt, khakis, and white lab coat. It was a wonder that he was still single, and if her daughter was not already happily married, she would have tried for some match matching. Nevertheless, she had worked in his clinic long enough to have wedged herself firmly in the middle of the hospital grapevine.
"Line one," she reiterated.
Dr. Sloan threw a fleeting look at the clock. "I'll take it in my office. Can you tell Chief something came up?"
Pamela nodded knowingly. "I'll think of something convincing."
Already distracted, Mark Sloane rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Okay, thank you Pam."
His throat tightening, he walked purposefully to his office and shut the door.
"Mark Sloan speaking."
There was an all-too-familiar giggle over the phone line. "I will give you the chance, and one chance only, to say the three words you have wanted to say to me for the past fifteen years. I might be a little slow on the uptake, but I have finally realized that you were right and I was an idiot and I should have listened to you from the very beginning."
His heart dropped to his toes. "Addison, what are you saying? What are you talking about?"
She gave a garbled choking noise. "I have called to inform you that you are no longer a dirty mistress, as by definition, it is impossible to be a dirty mistress if there is no one that is being cheated upon."
Mark grabbed the nearest pen from his desk and began tapping the ink tip against the top sheet of his legal pad. "Addison," he said slowly, "what happened?"
A beat, followed by a long sigh. "It's over Mark. Derek doesn't want me; not now, not tomorrow, not ten years along the line. He wants Meredith with her black lace panties and her trampy ways and her famous mother and –"
"Wait, Addison, slow down. It's okay."
"He had sex with her!" She cried, the words coming out in a burst of emotion. "Derek screwed Meredith the night of our hospital prom, after I'd taken so much time to pick out a freaking dress and I took the time to really do my hair and I was so damn excited to be his date." Addison laughed, a breathless exhalation of helplessness and misery. "How could I have been so stupid? What the hell was I thinking? I acted like I was in high school, for fuck's sake."
"So these black panties…"
"In his tuxedo pocket," Addison stated simply. "I pinned them up on the 'Lost and Found' board at the hospital."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Mark laughed; he immediately became somber again. "God, Addison, I'm sorry."
Another sigh. "No, you're not. You told me all along that this was a waste of my time, that I was looking for something that didn't exist. I hated you for it, but you were right. As per usual, Dr. Mark Sloan. I should have never married Derek Shepherd in the first place."
Now he was doodling on his legal pad, which meant that he was truly nervous. "Are you at work now? Are you calling me from your office?"
"Oh, most certainly not. I am at a bar, where Joe is keeping me very well hydrated." This time Addison's laugh was sarcastic, but slightly more genuine. "I decided to take the day off. I am toasting the end of my marriage with a hell of a lot of alcohol. How is that for being proactive, Mark?"
Mark wondered which of his urges was stronger – to punch Derek in the face, to crush Addison in a kiss, or to stop himself from proposing to her over the phone.
Unfortunately, none of them seemed too realistic or reasonable at the moment.
"Addison," he said gently, "you can't do this to yourself."
"Do what? Get smashed, as the term is these days?" Mark heard a loud gulp over the line. "Joe, give me another! I don't feel like being responsible and worthy today. I just want to forget everything."
He fell silent, listening to her uneven breathing. "Come home," he whispered. "Come back to New York. There's nothing left for you in Seattle."
"There's nothing left for me in New York either," she retorted.
The remark stung, Mark had to admit. He tried to tell himself it was her frustration and the alcohol talking.
"I'm here."
Addison did not reply for a long while, leaving Mark to count the seconds away. "You don't want me," she said at last. "We're just two slutty seconds who didn't get the ones we wanted."
"I still want you," Mark said firmly. "I will always want you. I will come to get you, if you want me to."
"You can't keep chasing. You have to know when to give up, Mark. It's taken me way to long to figure out what you've known all along." Addison sighed again. "So say it: told you so. I want to hear you say those words."
"Addison," he murmured, "I would have rather been wrong if it meant saving you from getting hurt after all this time."
Now a groan of frustration. "Mark, damn you. Why do you have to be so noble and chivalrous towards me? Why can't you just be selfish and gloat once in a while?"
"Selfish?" He barked, his resolve disappearing as he slammed his fist against the table. "How the hell am I supposed to gloat when the woman I have loved my whole life has just had her heart crushed by my oldest friend? How am I supposed to be selfish when all I'm hoping for is the chance to pick up the pieces and start up again where we left off?"
Addison whimpered softly, though the sound was muffled, as if she was pressing her fingers against her mouth. "I can't do this anymore, Mark. I can't."
He recalled their conversation the night before Addison had packed her bags for Seattle, which had been the night she had found out about Derek's own infidelity. He remembered her panic, his hurt, her anger, and his desperation as he watched her taxi fade into the distance. He had drunk himself blind afterwards with double scotch, single malt.
Mark wasn't sure he could take it any more; his heart, his emotions, his desires had been battered for so long that he wasn't sure it was worth the worth.
Maybe he was going to regret this, but he knew that he would hate himself forever if he didn't give it a shot. It was Addison, after all.
"Do you want me to come to Seattle?" Mark persisted.
A beat. More seconds passed.
"Yes." It was so soft he almost thought he had imagined it.
But no, it had definitely been there. The hell with his meeting and the rest of the day's patients.
"I'll be on the next flight out."
I need you here
I need you here to wipe away my tears
To kiss away my fears
If you only knew how much…
-Whitney Houston, "Run To You"