Chapter 2 Unstoppable

As if on cue you hear a light rasp at the door, you've drawn a bath, poured champagne and changed into the oversized fleecy robe. You're already half way to being fixing things on your own. "Addison, for God's sake open up before I get security to let me in," he sounds breathless like he ran here to see you were okay.

You slowly make your way to the door, taking as long as you can to prepare, even wedging the door open causes him to collapse through his forehead covered in the light perspiration that would turn you on in any other circumstance. "Mark…" you're ground to speechlessness as he stands there, effectively staring you down.

"Addison I'm not gonna leave. please …" he sighs, leaving you slightly freaked out. He knew you wanted this, he knows him being with you has been instilled in the pleasant dreams you've lost yourself in for months. The dreams that have him snuggled so close to you you're hearts beat in unison.

"You did hear me correctly sixty days not sixty minutes; I'm not up for any sex. You have to be here for me, not my body." You punctuate your sentence with that hopeless look he takes as a sign. Placing his hands delicately on your shoulders he directs you to the sofa's plunging you into the deep cushions as you attempt to protest further.

"I don't want sex. Not now I just want to be here for you" he smiles, crouching down right in front of you. As he lies his palms flat on your thighs the first defence against him crumbles. He's not Mark Sloane the big awesome self absorbed plastic surgeon. He's your long-standing friend/lover/person who's seen you through thick and thin.

"You really are sure you want this," you as question every doubt away as he lifts you face up till your eyes lock, his brimming with love and assurance and yours devoid of any emotion. You suddenly feel oddly like a flat-pack lover. Except he took you off the damages rack at the back of the shop, the analogy sucks but it's what you feel like right now. The only thing you feel except the burning sensation of nothing, numb.

"Yeah, I couldn't have done what you did today, help him get Meredith back and not think twice about it" you shake your head. It's an instilled feature of being a doctor, no matter who your patient is they need your help they deserve your best. But you find tears streaming down your face as he thumbs them away gently.

"I'm a doctor Mark and she was a patient, nothing more" he brings you in close as you shuffle onto his lap, leaning in close as he rocks you quivering body, the unspoken words that pass between each of you sink further into your heart that the spoken verse ever could. Perhaps you really were worth the saving.

"I'm sorry about our baby Mark," his eyebrows raise as you curse using the word "our" five minutes in and you've fallen into the couple thing, yet you find yourself back to the root of your argument. The reason you set off for Seattle when you had that discussion, that argument, the one final blow out that caused you to follow Derek's lead and run. But it's getting late in the game now and you can't keep going forever.

"Not now, we can deal with that later, just…" he's not sure how to finish that sentence as you turn your head to face him, gently dropping your lips to his. He draws back, holding you just as tight but shaking his head. "We're gonna do this properly, not even a kiss for 60 days till I show you that I love you,"

"What have I done to deserve this?" you question awkwardly as he just sits with you cuddled in close to him, wondering if he'll go the full way without so much as a hooker pausing on your mind.

"Weren't you gonna take a bath and consume rather too much of that champagne?" he asked cheekily as your sobs soothe and calm leaving your breath in rushed equilibrium.

It takes you less than half an hour to finish up in the bath; you don't hear him leave as the hot water works out your physical aches. Driving them away with the hot lavender bath oil you got for Christmas. He's sat on the bed waiting for you as you emerge, your hair loose in damp curls as he offers you a second glass of champagne, sod the hangover tomorrow, if you'll have one. The liver you had in college is surprisingly steadfast even with post-divorce exercise.

"I have to work tomorrow" you chastise lightly as he pats the bed beside him. You raise a suspecting eyebrow as the thick carpet gives way under your feet.

"Addison I'm not about to pounce on you for a quick turn under the covers. You're exhausted, I'm exhausted and I want to make sure you get sleep" he smiles in an oddly cute look as you flop beside him, rearranging the edges of your robe so your skin is covered.

"That's very sweet Mark but I'm used to sleeping on my own" you pout lying to him and yourself. The last two years have been the first in nearly fifteen that you've slept on your own, and for two years you've suffered horrific insomnia.

"Crap Addison, no one goes that long with someone sleeping next to them to suddenly be alright with it" he's almost telling you off with the tone of his voice but you find something enticing that he cares as much to dismiss your protests. He stands up, shuffling the comforter and sheets back so your space is ready, pillows propped together so he can lie next to you. A fresh doubt rises in your head.

"Really Mark, I'm not in the mood for sex," you protest as he slips his jeans and shoes off. His white tee soon follows as the sheets rustle delicately. He doesn't say anything as you slide out of your robe, wearing that negligee that makes you feel ever so slightly attractive, empty bed or not.

"Come here," as you slide to your side he nestles in behind you spooning together as his hand brushes your hair lightly. His cologne makes your eyes heavy with sleep as he holds you close in. If you're still enough his heart beats in tandem with yours and for a moment you feel relaxed enough to sleep.

It feels like only minutes have passed when you suddenly strike your eyes open, sinking them into the darkness above you as you writhe about uncomfortably. It's another dream you're having, one of those dreams that torments you in a blue moon. "Addie," you inwardly curse.

Unable to make conscious conversation you choose to ride out the terror. "…no….you can't just…" pushing at the bed clothes you feel your arms being gathered up as Mark hugs you tight preventing any harm coming to either of you.

"Shh, Addison, it's ok," you're almost soaked through with perspiration as your breathing steadies, your eyes sliding shut again as Mark's breath beats gently on your neck. He's snoring slightly as your equilibrium returns, sleeps not going to happen before you have to rise at five but being in his arm just mended a broken bridge.