Thank you all for your sweet and encouraging reviews. I truly appreciate them all and I'm so glad you enjoyed. So without further ado, here's the second part.

Post Addek. . . .A Maddison FanFiction


Salvation (2)


Predictably, Mark makes her tell the Chief of their impending arrival because she shouldn't be callously standing on her feet, performing surgeries after surgeries after surgeries (lately, that's what her schedule looked like.) and she understands that his concerns are justified, that she should take things lightly now, so she opt to not argue with him because she knows how risky the first trimester can be, especially with her age. But it doesn't make it any easier to look at the boards every morning and to see that Chief had given most of her surgeries away to the pretty and blonde Dr. Emily Thorne (a daily reminder of why this pregnancy will be her last.).

There's a slight swell to her stomach now. It's hardly noticeable to the eye, but her pencil skirts are tight and her blouse don't tuck in like they used to. Mark's fascinated with it - her ever changing body - but he doesn't voice his fascination aloud. She knows, though. She can tell by the way his eyes linger on her when she's standing and how his gaze fixes on her midsection first when they're in each other's presence.

He hovers. Brings her so many mugs of chamomile tea that Addison spends half her shifts in the bathroom and it would be annoying, she thinks, if it wasn't the only time she really gets to share this with him.

He's changed, she can tell. Sweet (he's always irresistibly sweet, but this time, he's sweet with no lingering intentions.) Faithful. He leaves the hospital alone (no more slutty nurses to stress about.) for the past month and finally, she thinks, finally he has matured. For once, he's making an actual rational decision. Not fooling around like he always does. He actually seems as though he's trying. For her. For them. And this time, she really thinks they can make them work.

She asks him if he wants to go with her for the first scan. She knows he will but it still makes her feel sad that she has to actually ask, because this (their fucked up situation.) wasn't what she had planned for her life. She never thought she would have to ask the father of her child to go to an appointment with her because she always thought she'd be having a child with the love of her life, the man she had married. Because it would have already been implied. Because if she wasn't pregnant with another man's baby, but instead with her husband's (soon-to-be-ex-husband.) and if that thing that had happened never happened, she would just tell Derek when the appointment was and they would write it on the calendar and he would save it in his BlackBerry and they would go and ask the Chief together for an hour or so off from work.

But she does have to ask Mark. Tentatively too, like she's afraid there might even be the smallest chance he'd say 'he can't' or 'he's busy' or 'he needs to be at surgery'. And of course, there isn't because when she asked, he looked at her like he's touched. Like he's grateful she's bothered to include him in this - the first sighting of their child.

They sit together in the waiting room at an OB/GYN clinic (she's not stupid enough to make an appointment in their hospital.) and when they call her name, Mark stands as she does, placing a hand at the base of her spine like he has done before at various points in their relationship. The images flashing before Addison's eyes like a slideshow of everything they've ever experienced. She likes the feel of his hand there; strong and protective, but gentle. He's always so gentle when it comes to her.

She winces at the feel of the cold gel on her stomach, the irony, and she thinks she hears a chuckle escape Mark's lips. It's the first genuine one she's heard in so long and it makes her smile too. The obstetrician moves the transducer around a little and that's when they hear it, the rhythmic thudding of their baby's heartbeat. Tears prick in Addison's eyes which she's not ready for, and even though she've heard those fast drums a billon times before, she has never heard one so musical, so soothing. This is their baby's heartbeat. It's different when it's yours. It's moving and life changing and just so beautiful. Theirs. She didn't expect a sound so simple could do so much damage to her. Maybe Mark notices, or maybe he doesn't, but she feels his hand reach for hers, lacing their fingers as one and smoothing his thumb over her skin in comfort and something else, she thinks. Gratitude, possibly.

"Look, Addie." he urges gently, squeezing her hand so she'll turn her head towards the screen where a grainy black and white picture of their child is displayed. She can't see very well through the tears that are clouding her vision but she can see enough to know it already looks perfect. Healthy. So this must be what all her patients were raving about and she's thankful she get to experience this because she has always wondered what it would feel like to be on this end of the chair.

They just stare together for however much time passes until the doctor asks whether they want a print out, a question which Mark answers for them both; of course. They get their photos and book the next appointment and she walks out of the room with his hand on the base of her spine again and for a short while, it all feels devastatingly perfect. And then, they head outside to the car and Mark asks whether she's sleeping alright and it all comes crashing down then and there since she's again reminded of how they got here. The cheating. The storming out. The shouting. The shoving. The cold rain. The never getting to see him ever again because the sight of her makes him nauseous. But that isn't really the problem anymore (she needs to move on like Derek has.) because he shouldn't have to ask that - he should already know the answer to it because they should be sharing a bed like a conventional couple would (but then again, they're not exactly together. Just having a baby together.), falling asleep together and waking up together when she needs to pee three times a night.

"I'm sleeping fine." she says sternly, and he just looks at her for a moment. He doesn't say anything more and they head back to the hospital together.

But not together.


One day, a few weeks later when they're alone in the break room and she's pouring him a cup of coffee because she's the one closest to the machine, Mark asks whether she would like to come to one of his support group meetings. And when she quirks her brows in a question because she has no idea that he's even going to such meetings in the first place, he follows it up with a quick, "You don't have to if you're busy or tired or...you don't have to." but she touches his arm lightly, gets him to stop talking and look at her because of course she wants to go. She's just glad that he's the one taking the initiative to better himself and it's not her who's forcing him to.

She thinks she's prepared for this meeting.

It turns out, she's anything but.

It's a warm summer evening when Mark parks his Macan on some quiet, unassuming street that has trees filtering the sunlight so it's spilling over the asphalt in golden shards. His hand isn't resting on her back this time because he's in front and she's toeing behind him, waiting to see this world of his she hasn't been a part of.

They take seats on hard plastic chairs that are set up in a circle and Addison slides hers closer so it's touching his, so there isn't any space between them. She's not sure whose benefit she does it for but it doesn't matter, really. Mark rests a hand on her knee, spanning out his fingers so he covers her bare skin entirely with just his palm and although she expects him to, he doesn't remove it. Not until it's his turn to talk, at least.

She listens through stories of self-harm and mental and emotional illnesses and alcohol abuse, of families being torn apart because of addiction and of addicts themselves and she can't help but wonder which category Mark belongs to. When it's his turn to talk, she sucks in a deep breath, waiting to hear along without everyone else, his story.

"I'm Mark." he tells the group in a shaky voice. Tears prick and sting her eyes but she fights them back because it's not fair for her to be the one upset. "This is uh...this is my first time telling this story."

Addison's throat feels like sandpaper and it's near impossible to swallow. His hand leaves her knee to rub harshly at the back of his neck and she can feel the tension radiating off of him. But she waits. Waits to hear what he's going to tell them.

And she isn't ready. Isn't ready to hear how he can't sleep at night; how, as a child, his own parents would go out at night, leaving him to care for himself, how, till to this day, he would turn on all the TV and every light in his apartment and even those in the closets, but still wouldn't be able to sleep, how Derek's mother saw how lonely he was and encouraged Derek to bring him home, how Derek become (then changes to became - past tense. A figurative blow to her stomach.) his brother. Isn't ready to discover how he sabotaged his relationship with the one woman he truly loves because he's too damaged for her, how he's afraid that he'll only end up hurting her, how she's too perfect for him, how he's scared of loving her because she's everything he's ever dreamed of and more. She isn't ready to hear how he uses sex and alcohol to fill that void and emptiness that seems to stem from being neglected as a child, how he later found out that the only cure to his insomnia was her being in his arms, pressed up against his chest with her head tucked under his chin. And she isn't ready either, for his final confession, that feeling like this has torn him away from the woman he loves, who needs him to be there when he can't be, and he feels so guilty about all of it because he's absolutely petrified he's going to ruin the good things he's got in his life. And he wants to go home, he tells them. Home with her so he can do all the dad-to-be stuff he's supposed to do like buy pickles and hold her hair back when she's throwing up and argue about baby names. He can't do that until he's better, because he knows he needs to be in it one hundred percent.

Addison doesn't stay for the rest of the meeting.

She makes it out of the doors and onto the sidewalk before she all but collapses against the wall, covering her mouth with her hand in a failed bid to stop the sobs escaping. He's only seconds behind her, wrapping his arms around her body so tightly that he's the only life that's holding her up and she breathe him in as they both cry for the way things are.

"I never knew." she chokes out between gasps for air. "You were in all that pain and I never knew."

"I wouldn't have let you find out." he tells her, smoothing her hair so she's tingling all over and wishing they never have to break apart.

She's not sure how long they stand there like that, but she knows it isn't long enough.


Addison feels their child move inside of her one night when she's lying on the couch, a spoon in one hand and a tub of mint chocolate chip in the other. It's barely even a movement - more of a flutter really, like a butterfly's delicate wings brushing against her skin. But she feels it.

She tells Mark and there's a strange lilt in his voice that she doesn't want to overanalyse. And instead of him lifting her shirt so he can place a hand on her stomach in the hopes of feeling it too - even though she knows he wouldn't yet be able to - he asks her to describe it for him because he's not here with her. She wants him to move in with her and she wants to move in with him. Anywhere, really. She really doesn't mind (preferably Manhattan because she's not exactly that adventurous.). And anywhere but this brownstone because it's filled with memories - bittersweet - and it's awfully weird to be raising a child in the house that she shared with her ex-husband for the past eleven years.

She got everything in the divorce - their brownstone, their estate in Connecticut, their beach house in the Hamptons and even his 1966 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray and all he wants in return is for her to stay away from him - she can't ever forget his distraught and pained face at the realisation that she's withchild. He didn't ask and she knows it's only because he doesn't want to upset a pregnant woman. Even then he's still calm and cool - Derek.

You two are just perfect for each other. Have a great life with your boyfriend, Addison.

Boyfriend?

She cringed at that. Horrible. It sounds so wrong. She haven't had a boyfriend since her first year of residency and that's because her last boyfriend became her husband for eleven years.

So, a new house or a new apartment - a new beginning - because all she wants is for Mark to be with her. Where he should be. But he's on a bed in an on-call room at the hospital and Addison's just willing him to conquer this new-him so they can be better together because now, she knows they'll be okay.

"I wi-" she starts, then abruptly stops because, yeah, it's okay for her to wish he was here beside her - and they both know that she does - but it's not okay to voice it.

"I know." he hums sadly over the phone, because he knows what she means. Doesn't need for her to finish that sentence. "Me too."

When they hang up, she jams the lid back onto the tub of ice cream, getting her fingers all sticky in the process, and puts it back into the freezer. The spoon goes into the sink and will remain there overnight because she couldn't care less that it's dirty. Mark would, even though he doesn't look to be the type of guy who'd be bothered by one innocent spoon. But out of the three of them, he's always been Mr. OCD. He'd roll his eyes and smile at her but wash it up anyway, drying it with a towel before popping it back in the cutlery drawer.

She cries at that. At the simplicity of the domestic life they're missing out on.

Then she goes to bed, rests a hand on her ever-expanding stomach and cries some more and she cries because Derek's words hurt her more than she'd like to admit.

A few days later, the Chief puts Mark on forced furlough because he's not in his best shape (it's so unlike Mark to be anything but flawless.) and it's pretty obvious too because he looks absolutely terrible - all bloodshot eyes and grey skin - and Addison can't help but feel guilty about it all, like if she somehow could've kept this baby a secret for longer, he wouldn't feel under pressure to get better and change so soon. She knows he's not there yet, but he's trying desperately to be, and that's probably holding up his betterment further. Keeping her pregnancy a secret now would be damn near impossible, she thinks, especially with the size of her bump. There's no way she could hide behind her lab coat now.

And so she watches from the catwalk as Chief tells him to take a few days off and he argues for a while but succumbs in the end and hangs his head in shame like he's failed them all, and she wants nothing more than to throw herself at him, wrap him in her arms and promise that it'll all be okay. She thinks (no, she knows.) it will be, eventually.

But eventually seems to be a long time in coming.


None of them hear from him for a week or so. He had texted her over the course of a few days, letting her know how he's doing, but he wants to be sure there's real, measureable progress before he sees her again.

Sometimes his level of determination frightens her. He's so serious that it's hard to believe that not too long ago, he's a cocky, arrogant and egotistical manwhore. He's anything but now.

So sweet. He's just too genuinely sweet with her.

Addison's not sure she cares about him getting to that one hundred percent anymore because somehow, all of this space is suffocating and she just wants Mark to be here, in whatever capacity that might be.

She can handle it, him. She can tolerate anything for him now.

But one day - the day before her next scan, incidentally - he calls her to ask if he can come over. And he does - come over that is - with some food from her favourite restaurant and a serious supply of Sour Patch Kids because that's been her craving lately and somehow, without even being there, he knows this.

She knows she probably shouldn't, but she's kind of done with shouldn't for now, and maybe she can blame it on the hormones (even though really, she knows it probably has absolutely nothing to do with them.) but she flings herself at him. Rocks into him so hard he has to brace himself against both of their weight but he catches her - of course he does - and tucks her head on the crook of his neck as she twists slightly so her protruding stomach can be accommodated into the equation. Mark chuckles softly at that, releasing her only so he can place a palm on either side of the neat bump sitting atop of her jeans.

"I wish I hadn't missed so much of this." he says softly that it's almost a whisper.

Addison only nods. She's not sure she can get any words out.

"Can I?" he asks, in reference to lifting her shirt; to inspecting the results of their handiwork those months ago when she was trying to numb the world out and forget everything with pleasure. Craving both pain and pleasure all at once. The fact he asks though, brings a lump to her throat because he shouldn't have to. He doesn't have to.

"Of course, Mark." she chokes.

They stand exactly where they are in the hallway and he gently lifts her shirt, folding it neatly so it rests on top of her stomach and he can openly stare at the way her skin has stretched and pulled over the last five months to create their baby's home.

"You look beautiful, you know." Mark tells her. "I've been meaning to tell you that. Should've told you sooner."

It's a little intense, the way he's looking at her. Like he's committing everything to memory, just in case. She just waits, ready to stand there as long as he needs, but after a few minutes he unfolds her shirt, being just as gentle as he'd been initially, and presses a soft kiss against her hair.

He grabs the previously forgotten food from where it's currently residing in a bag on the floor, and takes it to the kitchen counter to dish out onto plates. They eat tagliatelle alfredo at the table with the low hum of the television in the background and it all feels so right that Addison thinks this has to be the start of things getting better. Surely nobody would be so cruel as to give them this snapshot and then take it all away.

They move to the couch once they've finished eating and Mark has tidied the plates away, washing and stacking and drying so there's no evidence of their meal left aside from the smell of garlic and the happy fullness of each of their stomachs. He settles down next to her and she shifts so that her weight is leaning on him, so he'll adjust his arm to fit round her shoulders and pull her closer. He does all of those things and then proceeds to run his fingers through the soft waves of her hair as he flicks through the channels on the TV until they settle on the Yankees game.

She can feel every one of his exhaled breaths on her head as the cheers from the fans in the background fade to a simple buzz and her eyes fight to close. She won't let them though, just continues to drag her lids upwards so she won't fall asleep. She's not sure she could bare it if she woke up and he is no longer there.

"Stop it." he says gently, laying his lips against the skin of her temple.

"Stop what?"

"Fighting sleep. You're exhausted."

"I'm fine." she mumbles, wriggling impossibly closer so she can burrow into him.

"Go to sleep, Addie." he says again, a little more insistent this time. "I'll be here when you wake up."

She just about manages the next word before her eyelids does close. "Promise?"

His hands go to her chin, tilting it towards him and she knows what's coming next, craves it more than oxygen. His lips, gentle and warm and impossibly soft, seals over hers so that the quiet sigh she emits tumbles out of her mouth and straight into his.

"Promise."

As promised, Mark is there when she wakes up, watching her with that lazy smile she loves so much.

"Hey." she greets, twisting and turning in order to stretch out her long limbs and shift her weight so he can free the dead arm she knows he'll have.

"Hey."

"What time is it?"

"A little after ten."

She startles at that, figuring she's been out for at least two hours, during which he could have left. Could have. But didn't.

"I should go." he tells her, bursting the bubble she knows had to break at some point. She just doesn't want that point to be now.

"I don't want you to."

He drops a kiss to her forehead and sighs. "I don't want to either. But the last thing I want to do is take one step forward and two steps back."

It sounds pretty logical, Addison has to admit, but it doesn't mean she likes it.

"I'll pick you up in the morning." he tells her. "The scan's at ten, right?"

He remembered. Of course he does. "Right."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." It leaves her lips as something of a grumble, but he smiles and offers his lips against hers one more time so she ends up repeating herself, only this time, a little softer. "Okay."

He's almost out of the door when the words leave his lips - dry and desperate. "I love you, Addison."

It takes a sharp inhale for her not to cry then. "I love you too."

That's when she knew she no longer loves him, she's in love with him.


Thanks for reading! I decided to make this a 3 part story. Soooo, what do you guys think so far? I hope you enjoyed! Please REVIEW! Oh, and if you guys haven't already, please go check out my Addek story, it's called Karma.