Disclaimer: I am not a doctor… So this could be very medically incorrect for all I know. This chapter is rated M for mature themes (not sex guys… I knew I raised your hopes for that)… But it's rated M for dark and twisty themes. OH and I STILL don't own Grey's Anatomy. Sigh. At least I've got Rach…

OK. This part of the story: VERY intense and VERY angsty. If you're easily disturbed… Well I wouldn't recommend reading it… But I mean, you're all watching Grey's Anatomy, so you shouldn't be that easily disturbed. It's not THAT disturbing… But, it's really sad… But you get to find out how Addison really feels about the whole Brandon ordeal. It begins with a memory…

Derek burst into my room, the door swinging open and hitting the wall with a loud bang. He was breathless and frantic.

I rubbed my eyes and pulled the covers over my head. What the hell was he going on about? All he had to say is one word, and I jumped out of bed, forgetting that I was freezing, and forgetting that I was tired. All that mattered was two people.

"Something's wrong with Addison."

The stuffy air was enveloping me. I pulled on a pair of pants, and rushed upstairs into Addie and Derek's room, where Addison was propped up on the bed, clutching her stomach.

"Alright, Addison, we're going to the hospital." He tried to get her up, not looking at her face, which was in sheer agony. Her red hair was plastered to her face with sweat, and she looked scared. Derek held her against his chest, listening to her breathing, which was very irregular.

She spoke in short bursts of breath. "I-it can't. Be. Oh god. What is it?" She kept trying to diagnose herself, as she leaned on Derek and I, walking fragilely to the car.

The whole ride there we were asking ourselves silently what was going to happen. I sat with Addie in the backseat. She clutched my hand, cutting off the circulation and leaving it white. I squeezed back. "Pre-e." She said, breathing hard. "Preeclampsia." She clamped her eyes shut.

"What? You don't have high blood pressure."

"Wouldn't you notice if you had preeclampsia, Addison?" Derek asked, obviously not helping, as we pulled into the VIP section of the hospital's parking.

Addison grit her teeth. "The symptoms can come very quickly. Unexpected." I held her hand tighter, and she continued to talk, tears running down her cheeks. "Patient a month ago. She had it. It was a stillbirth. Induced delivery. The baby was…" She didn't finish. She couldn't finish.

"You're going to be okay," I tell her, "You're both going to be okay."

She whimpered, her eyes towards the black ceiling of the BMW. "You should know better. You never promise a patient something you can't verify. Have they not taught you that in med school?" Her words were raw with pain. "You… You don't know."

Derek ran around to her side of the car, and took Addie's hand. "Nothing's going to happen to him." He said, fear present in his bright eyes. The sky was dark and grey. The screams of ambulances echoed around us. It was something we were usually trained to ignore, but now, as we were in the midst of an emergency ourselves, the persistent ring pierced our ears.

We were slow, because Addison was in so much pain. I looked at her swollen stomach, which was her pride and joy. I remembered all the times she had snapped at people who tried to touch it. Mama bear, we called her.

Addie was mumbling to herself, "Preeclampsia can cause complications such as including intrauterine growth restrictionpreterm birthplacental abruption, and stillbirth." She sounded as if she were an intern again, telling her superior about the risks to the patient.

"Addison, stop it." Derek ordered, as I ran further ahead to get a doctor.

I ran into Dr. Alkeas who was second in command in neonatal surgery at the time. Addison, of course, was first. "Rachelle," He said, in his irritatingly calm voice. He looked at Addison, adjusting his glasses. "Is Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd okay?"

"Does she look okay!?" I asked, exasperated. "She thinks its preeclampsia." I explained as a nurse pulled up to Addison with a gurney.

"That's hard for me to believe." Dr. Alkeas murmured, "She's not susceptible to any of the risks. I've checked her myself; her blood pressure is fine, she wasn't complaining of swelling or vomiting. Although it could be a very unpredictable onset." He said, as we walked in to Addison who was hooked up to an ultrasound and several other machines.

Addison and Derek were looking at the machine in fear. "He's stopped moving." Addison whispered, and her voice faltered. "Get me some magnesium sulfate!" She ordered, pointing at my friend, West who was an intern at the hospital. West looked worried because he not only was well acquainted with me, but also with Addison and Derek. Derek held Addison.

"Take her blood pressure." Dr. Alkeas ordered.

"200/130," I remember the words striking fear to my heart, and Addison was barely moving anymore. She lay on the bed, still clutching Derek's hand, but looking only at the ultrasound.

"Put her on pitocin." Dr. Alkeas ordered yet again, and kneeled down beside Addison. "We're going to do everything we can, okay Addie? You know the drill." I remember Dr. Alkeas had never before referred to Addison as Addie before. Before I knew it, Addison was on the verge of losing consciousness, and Derek and I were pushed to the corner of the room. I could see tears in Derek's eyes. "Her placenta has ruptured!" Alkeas told West, "We're going to have to prep her for an emergency C-section."

"What?" Derek asked, losing the doctor in him, for fear of the loss of his son's life. "But she's only thirty weeks along."

"We've done this surgery on women who were earlier in their gestational period, Dr. Shepherd." Dr. Alkeas said.

"W-we have to." Addison said weakly, her lips barely forming the words. "I-it's his only chance."

It was all a blur from then on. Derek and I threw on scrubs, and rushed into the OR. Usually when I walked into an OR, I was nervous, but the kind of excited nervous where you're just itching to do something, to fix something. Now, it was a completely different feeling. I just hoped my sister and her son would be alive by the end of it. Derek was the same way. Usually he was the one in control, and now he was far from it. He was helpless to what was happening with his wife and unborn child. We were no longer professionals, but the family of the patient, which is any doctor's fear.

We watched Addison, as she fought to stay conscious, and fought to watch the birth of her son. I knew it had to be the hardest for her. She was the neonatal surgeon. She was the expert. She was expected to be a paragon of healthy deliveries everywhere. Addison was supposed to know. The worst part was, she did know. She knew what could happen, she knew the procedure, the risks, and she was trying so hard not to be scared. This kind of thing happened to her patients everyday, but now, as she was experiencing it, she also experienced the feelings that came with it, not the feelings that came with treating it.

Derek stood by her side, whispering reassurances in her ear. He kissed her forehead, and held her hand. I was on the other side of her, and for once I didn't want to see the procedure. I wasn't interested in this surgery. I just wanted her to be okay. I closed my eyes, and concentrated only on Addison who was squeezing my hand with a weak, yet somehow firm grip. I watched as she didn't say a word, or express any signs physical pain, but the tears streaming down her cheeks told me everything.

Addison also seems to be reliving the moment as the digital clock informs us that its 3:32 AM. I grasp her hand, under the cold sheets, and she grasps back, not saying a word. She snuggles into the crook of my neck, her eyes open, trained on the clock.

"It never stops, does it?" I ask her.

She wipes her eyes with the side of her wrist and shakes her head. "I keep wishing that he d-died… That he died before, instead of later." She chokes out. "I'm so selfish."

I feel the tears blur as I face her, my eyes on hers. "If he died before he was born, you would've never gotten to meet him." I take a breath, "But you're not selfish."

"I am. And then, I ignored my own pregnancy; I ignored my own pregnancy for work. And he got sick."

"First of all, that does not mean you're selfish, it means you're selfless. You saved other people. And it's not your fault that he died. It happens. You know as well as I do. We're doctors, we have to know that. Sometimes we do all the right things, know all the things we need to know, and things still don't end up right. Addison, I've told you this before, and I'm going to tell you again, it's not your fault."

She looks at me, her clear eyes probing. "It is my fault." Addison still watches the clock, her eyes frozen. "I wanted to believe it was all going to be okay. And after awhile— when I knew— that he wasn't going to be okay… Well I just thought it couldn't happen to me. I had Derek and I was smart. I could fix his problems. Damnit I should've been able to fix him! I tried to prepare myself for the day he would leave us, but I couldn't. I watched him get sicker everyday. By the time he said his first word, he was hooked up to six machines. Six goddamn machines! He loved me, because I was his mother. And he was so little. He was too little to realize he shouldn't have loved me. Because I was… I was too… Oh Goddamnit." Her shoulders are shaking in my hands, and I gently wipe the tears from her eyes. Her anger spills out quietly, like a boiling kettle, but eventually it explodes. It explodes because she's done. She's quit. Maybe that's a good thing. "I knew he was going to die. We all knew it. And I couldn't help him. I had to watch him, like I watched every other patient… Just lie there in bed and waste away. There— there was nothing I could do. And Derek was angry with me, because he knew it was my fault too. Everyone knew it was my fault. I could see it in their eyes, Rach sometimes, I swear, I saw you thinking the same thing." I open my mouth to say otherwise, but she shakes her head. "And I couldn't blame you, because you were right. And Derek was right. He still is right." She trembles more, and now there are tears spilling openly down my cheeks. We sob together as the stunted sounds fill the room. "A-and I ran away. Derek did too, but you and Mark didn't. You and Mark stayed in his room reading him stories, and playing make-believe games until the end. You and Mark were there to kiss him goodnight when things got too hard for me, because I couldn't handle it. I fucking couldn't handle it, Rachelle. What good was I?" Her voice is low and shaky. "What the FUCK good am I?" She yells, and the bed seems to shake under us.

Mark was in the doorway, watching her, tears streaking his face too. He almost seems afraid to move, as if he's physically stuck to the edge of the doorway. "You're good. In fact, you're amazing."

"I forgot you were here," Addison says disdainfully.

He doesn't move an inch. I feel like I'm in the middle of a minefield. "Addison, I never once blamed you for Brandon's death. Not once did that thought ever enter my mind." He sees the grand roll of Addie's eyes and says, "Ads, you know me. I wouldn't lie to spare your feelings."

"Fuck you," She whispers, and almost growls.

"Thank you." He says, taking a step closer to her, still clad in nothing but his boxer shorts. Mark looks her straight in the eye. "You were his mother. Addie. You seem to have forgotten that. You seem to have forgotten all the times when you were there, holding him. Addison, you held on to him, even when he wanted to let go. You loved him. You were about to quit your job for him."

"No." She says, shakily. "I wasn't really there for him. Maybe it looked like it… but… I wasn't."

"Everyday you were there, watching him. Sometimes…" He breaks down and punches the wall. "Fuck, Addie! You don't know what you do to me! What you did to me then! I watched you with him. There was nobody he loved more, not even Derek. He looked at you in that way. I could never do what you did. I could never even begin to understand how you stayed, and don't you fucking say you didn't stay by his side, because you did! You may have been scared, and you had every right to be! But you never left his side."

I close my eyes, pretending I'm anywhere but here. I'm with Diego, making out the Bahamas. I'm with Kayla having cocktails, and lamenting about life. Addison and I are shopping in New York, pre-everything. I beg for those colored pencils I've been eyeing for a year. She rolls her eyes, but drags me in the art store, demanding what kind of colored pencils would ever be worth thirty-six dollars. I'm with Addie, teaching her how to draw. She teaches me everything else, but I teach her how to draw. She's holding the white paper up to her eyes, drowning in it. She begs for help. I feel smug.

Her voice destroys my happy images. "I needed to be brave and I wasn't."

I'm pulled back to one moment in the closet, about eighteen years ago. Dad had another one of his attacks. I was the object of his fury, and Addison ran out of his way, leaving him to me. It was later, when I was cowering in the closet, that Addie came in and pulled me into her arms. "I needed to be brave and I wasn't." She said, embracing me. After that she promised me she would protect me forever.

I'm jolted back to reality, and realize that Mark has made it to the bed. Addie's sobbing and shaking, and Mark's there, "I'm not going to tell you it's okay, because it's not okay. It will never be okay that your baby died. But," He stops. "But if you want I'll be there when you're not okay. I'll be there to tell you that you are…" He looks at me, and I give him a teary smile. "Great. You and Rach are fucking great. You're the best." He sits on the bed, with a slight bounce. "And Brandon was an amazing kid. He was smart. And he loved you, and we all loved him." I can tell this is hard for him, as Addie just stares through him, remembering Brandon.

"You had a nickname for him." She says, wiping her eyes. "What was it?"

"Bean. Jumping bean. He was a pretty hyper kid when he wasn't in the hospital."

She smiles through the tears. "Yeah. I remember." I want to go and leave them to themselves, but Addie has fierce grip on my arm, and her nails are digging into my skin. "He loved you." She says, nodding. "He thought you were the coolest." I close my eyes and try to remember him when he was one. He was a pretty happy kid, even when he was hooked up to machines and operated on. He had Derek's wavy dark hair and tiny smile, and Addison's everything else. He was always pointing to everything around him, eager to learn. It was his way of asking. Mostly we taught him about the hospital equipment, because even at one and a half, he liked machines. He also loved leggos. For his first birthday, Derek got him this gigantic leggo set (the big kind) that built a huge fire truck. I remember Derek, Mark and Brandon working side by side, Derek guiding Brandon's hand to the right pieces. I remember after eating his big chocolate cake (which he got all over his face), and building his fire truck, he fell asleep in Derek's lap, his head on Derek's chest. A week later, he started having chest pains.

"I loved him too." Mark whispers, and he lays his hand over hers.

"I'm sorry I said I hate you. I don't, not really." She says, giving him a slight smile, and then her expression changes, "Shit." Addie groans, bringing her hand to her mouth, and somehow managing to run to the bathroom. Mark follows her.

I lie back on her bed, and don't notice as I drift into a dreamless sleep.

The alarm rings at six in the morning. The first thought that runs through my pounding head is thank god it's Friday. I sit up, noticing the rain falling in thick sheets outside, and then fall back onto my pillow with a crash. A second later, I manage to drag myself out of Addison's bed, barely able to fight the sleep that threatens to conquer my eyes.

I hear Mark's gravelly voice in the bathroom. Great. How the hell am I going to take a shower? I knock on the door, my eyes half shut.

"Hold on." Addison's voice rings out. Great. They're in there together.

Addison comes out of the bathroom in a black pencil skirt and white button down top. Her hair looks perfectly blow-dried and straight. She gives me a little glare that says don't you dare think that Mark and I slept together last night. Or, at least I hope that's what the glare says. As much as I love Mark, I don't think Addison should be sleeping with anyone right now.

Mark is brushing his teeth in the bathroom, shirtless. As much as I appreciate the toned bod, I'd rather not have to deal with it very early in the morning. "Hello." He says, spitting in the sink and showing me his pearly whites.

"Hey." I say, eyes downcast. I am so not in the mood for Markisms right now. "Will you get out? I need to take a shower."

"Hey, be nice. We let you sleep longer." Mark laughs, and I hit him with a rolled up towel.

"Get out. I need to shower."

He puts his hands up in the air, as if I am a cop who is about to hand out an arrest warrant. "Don't hurt me," He says, trying in vain to suppress his laughter. I give him the finger, as he playfully slams the door behind me.

I start the shower, loving the soothing feel of the warm water against my skin. I take a deep breath, remembering last night. "Happy birthday, Brandon." I whisper into the quiet roar of the falling water and steam.

When I get out of the shower, Addison's eating granola, and Mark has ordered scrambled eggs, making good use of the room service. One of Mark's hands rests on Addison's, while the other holds a newspaper up to his face. Addison doesn't seem to mind this delicate display of affection.

"Why the leisurely breakfast? Don't we have to get to work at seven this morning?"

Mark smirks "No surgeries 'til ten. Livin' the good life."

I roll my eyes, but a chair up to the mini table and grab a handful of dry granola. "Well I have to be in by 7:30, or else Bailey's gonna kill me."

"Ouchhh." Mark says.

Addison rolls her eyes too, "Don't worry, we'll get you in by 7:15."

"You mean I have to be at the hospital earlier than I need to be?" Mark whines.

"Hey, you chose to come back here last night." Addie says, crunching loudly on the cereal. Mark shrugs, and Addie removes her hand from his.

"I didn't know you cared enough to read the newspaper." I say, grabbing more granola.

"I don't." He says, and throws me the page he's been reading. The comics. "I could… But I already get so much depressing stuff at work."

"Ugh," Addison complains, "I hate Seattle. The rain's going to mess up my hair."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "I'm totally going to ignore how shallow you just sounded there."

She shrugs and goes on, "And you cannot believe what it does to my shoes."

"Dude," Mark laughs, "Why do you even wear those uncomfortable pointy looking things to work?"

Addison tries to look dignified, "Because they're pretty." We're all laughing at the comical banter that somehow feels natural to us, but I feel as if we're all lying. We were all in this room last night. We're aware of the sadness and emotional baggage that today brings.

Yeah so I promise you in a few chapters things will be comical again… More light stuff! Blame this chapter on the play Shadowbox. They did it at my school and it was amazing… But VERY sad, so when I got home I decided to write angsty fanfic. Uhhh, next chapter will involve Addison and Derek talking, be interested, be very interested…

THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS!!!