Author's Note: This story has been plotted for four years. If I'm going to try to finish the what-if-Addison-and-Derek-were-forced-to-reconcile story, then I'm going to try to finish the what-if-Addison-never-left-Mark story. So here goes. The other chapters are short too (especially for me), so you may want to reread to catch up.

take my hand, knot your fingers through mine

"Annabel!"

Dr. Grey is fast but Addison is faster, a mother's panic pushing her to Annabel's bedside. Terror gripping her, Addison leans over her daughter's small convulsing body. "Annabel, it's okay, it's okay," and she starts to signal the gathering nurses. "Push two of-"

"Move back."

It's Derek's sharp voice; he's in the room now too, pushing between her body and Annabel's bed, barking orders to the residents and nurses in turn. "Move," he snaps to her again.

"Derek-" Addison is still holding one of Annabel's trembling arms. "You need to make sure that-"

"Mark!" Derek barks his name from inches away and Addison has only a moment to realize that's the first time Derek has directly acknowledged her husband since they arrived in Seattle before Mark's familiar hands close over her arms and pull her back from Annabel's bedside. He wraps his arms around her before she can protest, holding her a few feet away. "Let them work," he says gruffly in her ear and she knows he's right, intellectually she knows that right now she's an anxious mother with nothing to add to Annabel's treatment despite all her degrees, but she can't bear to be this far away while her daughter is suffering.

Just as quickly as it began, it's over, her body quiet on the bed.

"Annabel." Derek has his hand on her face; he moves dark hair away from her cheek and orients her face again. "Annabel, can you hear me? Open your eyes."

Addison's pretty sure she's not breathing.

"Open your eyes, Annabel." His tone is coaxing, insistent, and then Annabel's dark eyelashes flutter and she opens sleepy-looking blue eyes.

Addison sees confusion register in those eyes, and Derek takes his hand off her face immediately, smiling down at her. "How do you feel? It's okay, your parents are right here," he adds soothingly.

"I'm … tired," her voice is hoarse. Addison sees her eyes moving around the room. "Mom?" she asks tremulously.

"I'm here, baby." She breaks Mark's slack grip and takes one of Annabel's small hands, stroking her hair away from her forehead with the other hand.

Annabel gives her a sleepy half smile, eyes fluttering, answers Derek's questions softly.

Then Derek turns to Addison, Annabel's chart in one hand. "She's six years, ten months?"

"Six years, eleven months," Addison corrects.

"Right." Over the bed Derek is talking to the residents now. "Did you get all of the – good. Wilson, I want new images immediately. Dr. Foster, can you take her down-"

Addison's hand tightens around Annabel's. She's not ready to let go. Derek turns to her.

"Go ahead and talk to her." Derek nods at the bed, the jerk of his chin the closest he gets to bringing Mark into the conversation. "But quickly, because I want a new CT as soon as possible. And then I want to talk to you," he adds.

She leans over her daughter, pressing her lips to her forehead and stroking her head. Annabel is mostly asleep but she moves contentedly under her mother's touch, buffing her cheek into Addison's hand the way she has since she was small, that sweet gesture that's always reminded Addison of a kitten. Mark is holding Annabel's hand, murmuring to her. Her vitals are steady on the screen, even soothing.

Addison doesn't want to let go but she raises her eyes to Derek anyway, signaling, and he nods to the waiting resident.

Derek waits until they've rolled Annabel to the door, a resident promising Addison she'll update her the moment she's returned to the room.

Then he turns on Addison, his eyes hard. "You can't interfere like that. You're a parent here. Not a doctor." He's speaking in short, clipped tones, that recognizable cadence. "You need to let me do my job."

"I'm sorry." She takes half a step back automatically, feels Mark's hand on her shoulder, reassuringly warm.

Derek's right. She knows he's right. Didn't she think it herself, when the medical transport first pulled up to the hospital? She was fine, that's what she'd whispered about her daughter when given the chance, not stats or meds or a treatment plan. She was fine, like any confused, frightened parent.

"Derek," Mark begins from behind her and if Derek hears him there's no indication; he starts talking again without acknowledging Mark at all.

"All right, then." He directs his words to Addison. "I understand seizing isn't pleasant for her, or for you to watch, but you are also aware we get more data every time it happens. The more I have, the more likely I can…the better my chances."

"I know."

"She needs to be seizure-free 24 hours before I can operate. You know this."

They do.

"But until then I need her hooked up, I need my residents to have full access, I need full access, and I need you to let me gather the information we need to help her."

Chastened, she nods. "I understand. I do, but…"

He seems to see the unspoken question in her eyes. "I just don't know, Addison. Let me get the new images."

Mark's voice rumbles from behind her again, the same word. "Derek."

Again Derek ignores him, nodding briskly at Addison. "Dr. Foster will let you know when her results are in."

She watches him leave the room.

"Son of a …" Mark is shaking his head next to her now. "I hope he sees better than he hears."

There's something like pain under his joke, and she gets it. She remembers Derek's cold voice during her brief visit to Seattle almost eight years ago. You and Mark? You stopped existing to me when I walked into that room. Luckily I never need to see him again. And once we sign the papers, you can stop existing to me again too.

"I think he's just … focused," Addison says, not sure why she's apologizing for him.

"He's something." Mark is rubbing his chin thoughtfully, his voice tight. "I really hope he can do this, Addie, because-"

"He can do this." She has to believe it, has to believe she's uprooted both their children and left their home for a reason, has to believe this is a better course of action that what the doctors in New York insisted.

We can make her comfortable… She'd stormed out of the room, then, refused to listen anymore. Mark stayed. I don't want to hear this either, Addison, but we need to know what they have to say. That was the day she'd called Derek.

He wraps an arm around her now and she lets herself be reassured minutely just by his warm, bulky presence. It is as it has been from the very beginning: the two of them. Then the three of them, and finally the four of them –

"Max," she says, turning to her husband. "Where-"

"The playroom," he reminds her.

"Was he … okay, when you left?" She's not sure what she's asking but Mark seems to understand.

"He was okay. Actually, he was entranced," he adds. "There's some … doctor-cheerleader hybrid here playing Pied Piper and Max couldn't follow her fast enough."

She can't help but smile at his mixed metaphors. "I need to see him."

Mark nods.

This division of children and time and parental involvement. It's what they do and they do it well but it's supposed to involve skating lessons and soccer practice, not hospital playrooms and impending CT scans.

"Will you –"

He nods again, not making her finish the question. They've always been able to communicate with few words. He'll wait here, because if one of them is in Annabel's room – even if it's empty - then they can continue the illusion that they are taking care of her. That she's not completely out of their hands.

She stops a nurse in the hallway for directions to the playroom and then calls for the elevator, watching the numbers above the doors move slowly as she waits.

The elevator doors slide open and he's standing there, next to a woman she doesn't recognize, looking happier than she can remember seeing him in – well, in too long. Just seeing him at all jolts her stomach; other than their first formal meeting in the hospital lobby the day before they've successfully avoided each other. And he had been alone then. The woman next to him now is young, younger than Addison, with cat's eyes that wrinkle with pleasure when the man who is still her husband whispers something in her ear. They're lost in their own world, she realizes, but then they both notice Addison at the same time. The smile drops off Derek's face immediately and his expression returns to the cold mask she saw earlier.

"Addison. Why aren't you back in New York where you belong?" he spits as she steps onto the elevator.

Even if he hadn't said her name, it would be clear he was talking to her, she realizes, because the tone he's using – still ice cold but with an underlying viciousness – is apparently unfamiliar to the younger woman next to him. She looks distinctly uncomfortable and Addison, acutely aware this is all her fault, can't blame either one of them.

She answers him calmly. "I'm going to see Richard before I check on my patient."

The woman next to Derek cocks her head slightly, and Addison finally sees recognition in her eyes.

"Is this…?" Addison hears her murmur the start of the question to Derek.

Addison forces a smile. "Addison. Shepherd," she adds by way of introduction, because it's still Shepherd, because the divorce papers are unsigned in her bag. It's the way she's introduced herself for eleven years, even if the name she's carried for more than a decade, through almost all of her professional life, is one more thing she's going to have to give up now.

But Meredith winces at "Shepherd" and Derek glares at Addison. "Nice," he snaps sarcastically. "Thank you, for that."

"You did tell her about me," Addison offers tentatively, a bit defensively, thinking this must be the slowest elevator in the world.

"He did. Meredith." and the other woman holds out her hand. After a moment Addison takes it – it's small, far smaller than hers, a good size for a surgeon.

"Don't shake her hand," Derek says to Meredith and Addison feels her cheeks burn. She deserves this, she knows, and she's determined not to argue back, but she needs the elevator doors to open now. Or five minutes ago.

When the doors open on four she finally exhales. She leaves without trying to say anything, but hears Derek, his tone much different now – gentle, reassuring – as the doors close. "I'm signing the papers tonight and then she'll be on the next plane out of here."

As if summoned by her memory, Meredith Grey joins her on the elevator. She's holding a chart and Addison forces herself not to look to see if it's Annabel's. She nods in greeting. "How are you." It's polite, but it ends in a period, not a question mark. No response needed.

"I'm … trying to find the playroom," Addison says anyway.

Meredith smiles. "Fifth floor."

"You know it?"

"Very well. It's saved me a few times. My son is two and a half," she explains. "And the playroom has a lot of…trains."

Max used to love trains. She hadn't realized until Dr. Grey referred to herself as a mother that Derek had children. Before she can ponder it, they're on five.

"Thank you, Dr. Grey," she says when the doors open; the other woman doesn't say call me Meredith –Addison is the parent here, Meredith the doctor; their roles are demarcated more strictly than her last visit.

"Mommy!" In a blur of red shirt and mussed sandy-blond hair her son is in her arms, and she hugs him tightly, letting the rest of the world melt away even as something sharp pokes the back of her neck.

"Too tight!" he protests, and she releases him, hoisting him higher on her hip.

"Sorry, sweetie. I missed you."

"Me too," he says happily, and shows her what she felt against her neck earlier: a little wooden traffic light with realistically bright colors. They toy is old fashioned, reminding her of something she might have played with as a child. "Where's Annabel?"

"Resting." The lie slides out of her mouth easily. "What have you been doing?" she nudges his soft cheek with her nose.

"We're making a highway, over here" – he points to a corner of the bright, sunny room, where a dark haired boy a few years older is frowning at a tower of blocks – "you want to play?"

"Sure." She tugs her skirt down over her legs as she kneels down next to Max. Mark used to tease her for not traveling in anything less than business wear, but … old habits die hard. She pushes up the sleeves of her jacket, watching a little girl around his age with two dark brown pigtails hand Max a wooden stop sign. "You need this," the child says with authority and Max takes the sign solemnly. Addison smiles at him. He's a little brother through and through, open to suggestion, as long as he gets to play.

"Are you Max's mom?"

Addison looks up from the carpet to see a beaming face and a stethoscope capped by a fuzzy dinosaur and realizes Mark has described her perfectly.

"Addison Montgomery." She pushes up from the floor to shake the other woman's hand.

"I'm Dr. Robbins. It's so nice to meet you. Your son is wonderful, but I'm sure I don't have to tell you that," she chirps. "Can we…" and she gestures a few steps away so they can talk.

"How's Annabel?"

She can do this. She can answer this question. "About the same."

"I can't imagine what you're going through," she says then, her tone slightly more serious but still far more cheerful than her words. "And with this little guy…" - she beams down at Max, who is busily constructing the highway with his new friend - "…there's a lot on your plate, I know. Is there anyone else you could … call?"

Addison lifts an eyebrow, not sure what she means.

"You're going to be pulled in so many different directions in the next few days. It might help to have some more support here for this little guy, a grandparent or an aunt or uncle or a … friend…" Dr. Robbins's voice trails off.

"We're all set."

Dr. Robbins is still smiling at her expectantly. "It might be helpful to have another pair of hands! Are you sure you don't want us to get in touch with someone for you?"

Her parents were already long gone, emotionally if not physically, before her marriage ended. Derek's family was her family and before they were her family they were Mark's family. Derek was the glue that held them all together; they were the ones who ripped everyone apart.

She's relishing unusually nice weather and a cancelled appointment, resting just beyond the reservoir in the park with a hand on the bulge that's making her walks more difficult these days. She's already halfway through her third trimester now. At first her eyes skate over the tall woman bustling two children and a bulldog on a leash with nothing more than friendly curiosity, but then she gets closer.

That's when they recognize each other almost simultaneously, and there's a strange frozen moment like a paused video where she's not sure if either one is going to acknowledge the other. Addison blinks first. "Nancy," she moves toward her and sees Nancy's eyes drop down to the prominent swell of her belly.

"Addie." Nancy looks as uncomfortable as Addison feels. It's her niece who breaks the silence. "Hi, Aunt Addie!" Kate, going on eight now, beaming, gives her a careful hug from the side, mindful of her pregnancy. "Wow, you got big."

"I was going to say the same thing to you. You've grown a foot." Addison ruffles her dark brown curls. She loves all her nieces and nephews but she has a special heart for the ones, like Kate, she delivered.

"It's…been a while," Addison says carefully to Nancy when the kids are slightly out of earshot. Tears spring unbidden to her eyes. "They've grown so much."

"I know." Nancy is looking at her with – is it pity? "I saw him," Nancy says abruptly then. There's no need to clarify who "him" refers to.

"You did?" Addison's voice slides into a higher register. "He was – he was here?"

"I went to Seattle."

"Oh. How, um, how is he?"

"He's Derek." Nancy shrugs slightly. "He's just … Derek. Addie, what happened? No, don't tell me, I – I just don't understand how you got here."

Addison gives a helpless sort of shrug. She's not sure she really understands either.

"You did try to – to reconcile, Ad, to work on it or …?"

"No, I … Nancy, I'm with Mark. I thought you knew."

"With him? Like … actually with him?" From her expression, Nancy didn't know.

"I'm pregnant, Nance."

"Well, that's not exactly a secret." Nancy's eyes drift to Addison's swollen belly. "I just – didn't realize you and Mark were ... together."

Nancy's expression is every dark thought Addison can't avoid when she looks in the mirror. The happiness she feels watching her profile grow, thinking of how the baby is developing, of the way Mark looks at her, she doesn't deserve any of it. She ruined so many lives that night, didn't she?

"I should go," Nancy says after a long silence. "Take care, Addie." Her tone is gentle, but her meaning is clear. It's a good-bye. Kate turns around to give Addison a little wave as they walk away, which Addison returns, tears in her eyes. She just stands on the dirt path, still tough with late frost, as more Shepherds walk out of her life and then the baby she's growing kicks her, hard, reassuring, as if to say: Don't worry. I'm still here.

"Dr. Montgomery?" The other doctor probes gently.

Addison presses her lips together, shaking her head slightly, half an eye on Max on the floor. "Thank you, Dr. Robbins, but … like I said, we're all set."

She can't read the other doctor's face well enough to know if she hears Addison's undertone, but there it is:

There isn't anyone to call.

Reviews are warmly welcomed and always appreciated.

Lyrics: Open Your Eyes (Snow Patrol), as every vintage Grey's story requires.