A/N: Sorry for the slow turn-around. Life's been a little hectic lately. But here's some shippy stuff for Maddison fans. :-)

"Why are you still here?"

"Missed my flight."

"It was at eleven."

"I got up late."

"You're never asleep past eight."

"Well, we were up pretty late, don't you think?"

Addison harrumphed at the smirk and suggestive tone that Mark used to great effect then sat down on the edge of the bed farthest from him. Two hours ago Mark sitting in her hotel room would have been very welcome, but now she wished he would just go home. Or, she thought she did. Maybe she still wanted him. Whatever.

"You have to go home, Mark."

"So do you."

"This is my home now; I have a contract." She was begging—whether with Mark or herself she didn't know.

"You keep saying that." He slid up in the bed and rested his back against the headboard, looking down at his crossed feet.

Addison tried to keep herself from taking in his appearance, but it was difficult—it was always difficult, and she hated herself for it. He wore one of the tight black polo shirts that she had always thought fit him nicely. Mark evidently thought so too, given that he wore them like they were going out of style. His slacks were black and she knew them to be custom-made. Being who he was, he liked to show himself off. She wanted to kick herself when she shrugged, thinking he had good reason to do so.

"I say it," she said slowly as she slid her legs onto the bed and carefully positioned them away from his so they weren't touching, "because it's true."

He nodded deliberately before looking up and smiling. "Good night then."

Addison blinked. "What?"

"Good night." He slid out of the bed and found his suitcase. He pulled off his shirt, followed by his pants while she sat and stared at him in bewilderment.

"Good night?"

"Yeah, Addie. It means I'm going to sleep." He tossed his clothes in a leather suitcase.

"It's eleven-thirty. Since when does Mark Sloan go to bed at eleven-thirty?"

He crawled under the covers and turned off the lamp beside the bed. "When he has an early start in the morning."

She cocked her head and moved closer to him, so she was now sitting on the other side of the bed. It didn't occur to her that he was going to sleep in her hotel room. She doubted that he even had his own. "What're you not telling me?"

"You're so tenacious." He rolled over to face her, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Part of my charm." She rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle shove. "Seriously, you're not funny. Tellll meee," she whined, giving him her best puppy face.

"It's a surprise," he whispered, inching toward her.

"I don't like surprises," she said stubbornly.

"You'll like this one." He tugged the bedclothes down, surreptitiously sliding an arm across her waist.

She pretended she didn't notice. Part of her wanted Mark in a way that her mind told her she shouldn't, and then the other part … was unaccounted for. She let him pull her close to him, felt herself slipping down the bed next to him. A rush of excitement overcame her, as it did every time, when he positioned himself overtop of her, gazing down at her intensely. And then he kissed her, and she kissed right back. She wasn't vulnerable, or hurt, or drunk; she was perfectly conscious of every move she made and every move she let him make. Her stomach turned as she realized this was a turning point, but she carried on anyway.

"What're you doing?"

Mark glanced over at her and smiled softly. "Shh. It's only four-thirty. Go back to sleep."

"Why are you getting dressed?" She blinked back sleep, her eyes adjusting to the dim light pouring out of the bathroom.

"I have some things to take care of." He walked over to her and kissed her forehead, sitting by her on the edge of the bed. "You've got a wake-up call at six-thirty. Eight o'clock surgery, right?"

Her eyes fluttered closed at the warmth of his lips, and she nodded. "Mhm. What do you have to take care of?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it." Even with her eyes half-open and her mind barely functioning she could hear the smirk in his voice.

He patted her hip and stood again. "See you later," he said in a low voice and left the hotel room.

She smiled contently. She liked Mark when he was like that—kind and affectionate. It was a rarity, she knew, but when he showed that side it was absolutely lovely. It made her realize why she had fallen in love with him, but when he resumed his typical, narcissistic demeanor, she remembered darkly why she had left. Mark wasn't someone she should have ever been in love with, and he was definitely not suitable for a long-term relationship. He would hurt her, probably worse than Derek ever had, and she wasn't sure if she could take that sort of hurt anymore. What if he broke her?

She sighed, resolving to let it go for now, and fell back into a gentle sleep.

Addison arrived at Seattle Grace at 7:15 feeling refreshed. She didn't see Derek or Meredith or much of anyone until her surgery. She still had Alex Karev on her service, and noticed he seemed a little jittery as they scrubbed in.

"What the hell is your problem, Karev?"

He passively looked up at her. "I'm on gynie. What do you think my problem is?" he responded irritably. She rolled her eyes as she moved past him to the towels.

"It could be worse," she reminded him.

"Sure," he said shortly, shaking the excess water from his hands. "What's worse than being stuck on the Vagina Squad when I could be on the burn case that Meredith got with Sloan."

"Who?" She wasn't sure she had heard him correctly.

"Sloan. Mark Sloan. You remember? The guy you screwed while you were married to Shepherd."

She ignored his lewd comment for now. Mark was on the burn case? That's what his big surprise was? Was she supposed to be happy he was here? Not that part of her wasn't. Part of her was very, very happy Mark was in the hospital, but that was the uncontrollable side of Addison that she tried to keep in check. But with him working here today, it was going to be difficult.

Addison had been trying to avoid him all day, though she couldn't walk down a hallway without some amount of staring, or without hearing his name. At one point she heard raised voices coming from a conference room and recognized them with a pang of agony. She made sure the coast was clear and came to stand by the door, which was cracked ever so slightly.

"…when you have no right to be here!" That was Derek.

Then Mark: "Come on, Derek. Stop acting like this is the Refuge For People In Shitty Marriages. This is a hospital, and if the Chief wants me here? He's making a good decision for—"

"No, if the Chief wants you here he's making a mistake. You're a conceited asshole, and our interns shouldn't learn from someone from you."

"Right, because conceitedness in a surgeon is so unforgivable."

"It is if it interferes with your work ethic."

"This isn't about my work ethic. This is about my pissing on your territory."

She heard silence for a moment, then moved away quickly when Derek stormed out of the room. He glanced at her, but the look in his eyes was frightening. It was dark and clouded, full of rage. She had never fully realized just how much Derek hated his former friend, the man he had grown up with and relied on for thirty years of his life. It was somewhat amazing that a relationship could turn around so quickly, but, she thought to herself, the same thing happened with their marriage.

Mark came out a second later, and Addison was leaned against the opposite wall of the hallway.

"Did you hear all of that?" he asked regretfully, moving toward her with a frown. "I'm sorry, Addie, I—"

"Stop, Mark. I know." She sighed.

"When are you getting out of here?"

"My last surgery is in thirty minutes, and I should be out by ten." She was surprised that she had actually answered him.

"Yeah? Suppose we go out to dinner."

It was her turn to frown. "I'm sorry, Mark. I'm just … not up to it. I've not been feeling well since … Derek and I called it quits." She grimaced slightly. Shouldn't she be grilling him on why he was still in Seattle, why he was at the hospital, and especially why it sounded as if he intended to stay?

Mark nodded. "You need time."

She smiled forlornly. "I need time."