**TRIGGER WARNING**

Attempted rape. Please do not read this if that specific topic easily triggers you. I think this chapter is relatively mild aside from that particular topic. It is estimated that when there is domestic violence in a relationship, the risk of marital rape increases by 70 percent.

Chapter 8:

The steady beeping of the machines attached to her and the general buzz of a busy labor and delivery ward lulled her into a restless sleep. She had refused all sleep medications and had made sure that Mark was right there with her before she allowed her body to relax enough to rest.

"I'm scared." She had whispered, her eyes growing heavy. He nodded, and she wasn't sure what he replied as he gently squeezed her hand and she fell asleep. He felt horrible he wasn't able to offer her some fantastic words of comfort and wisdom. He knew that she was scared. Hell, HE was frightened. He watched the peaks and valleys on the fetal monitor, trying his best to stay awake.

*Sometime later in the night*

Addison woke in a panic. Derek was sitting on top of her upper thighs/ hips, his hands tightly around her neck, pushing pressure downwards. She couldn't talk, couldn't breathe as she choked and gasped for air. Her hands automatically moved on top of his, clawing him, trying desperately to push them away from her throat. Her eyes automatically searched the room looking for Mark, but he was nowhere.

"You're pregnant?" He murmured questioningly. He could see the monitors and the screens. He was sitting on top of her in just the right way to be able to feel the baby moving. He let go of her neck and ran his hands down her chest and along her tummy. She squirmed uncomfortably under his touch. He knew she was pregnant, but he wanted to see how SHE would respond.

"No… Derek I…" She didn't know how to respond. It was apparently a no-win situation, especially with the fetal monitor recording every second of this baby's life right next to her bed.

"How far along are you?" He asked, he had removed her heart rate monitors before she had woken up, so her increased stress response would likely go unnoticed by the nurses just down the hall. He moved and yanked her into a sitting position. She began to cry. She hated how weak she was when she was around him. She hated how much power he has over her.

"Derek please stop." She begged. Her head was beginning to pound, and she felt like she was going to be sick.

"How far?" He demanded again, she tried to escape from his grasp, and he adjusted his grip, squeezing her weak arms even tighter.

"Derek please!" She begged as she tried to move away from him, and ended getting caught in the IV wires that he had graciously left on her arm, hitting the ground hard as she fell. She got up quickly yanking the IV's out of her arm and moved as fast as she could backward, away from him, towards the corner of the room.

"You have to get rid of it." He walked over to her and knelt down beside her, gently cupping her face in her hand, feeling her entire body tense at his embrace.

"Don't you think I've tried?" She whispered miserably, but that just made him angrier. She HATED this "gentle" impose fear anger that he did with her when they were in public. To anyone just listening outside the doorway, this would sound like a reasonable conversation almost. No raised voices, but all the same she knew all too well the threats that hid in his sugar-coated tone.

"You TRIED to abort my child?!" His voice raised a little now. He was a master at turning her words around so that everything and anything was her fault. He didn't want this child, but how dare she say that she didn't want it?

"I tried killing myself… twice, but obviously, I can't even do that right. I didn't know I was pregnant until two weeks ago. I couldn't abort her at 24 weeks…. I just couldn't." She mumbled, she thought this would anger him more, but it just seemed to take him back.

"You're a double board certified OBGYN! A world-class neonatal surgeon with board certifications in obstetrics, gynecology AND maternal-fetal medicine. It is impossible for you not to know you were pregnant! How could you be so stupid?!" Anger was beginning to overtake him, but he knew that he had to keep his voice low not to raise the suspicions of the nurses.

"I lost weight; I thought I was sick due to stress." She rattled trying to appease him. "The baby's placenta is in the anterior position; I couldn't feel her kicking until a few days ago."

"I can't believe how selfish you are." He spits at her. "Did you even think about our child?" She tried hard not to roll her eyes at him. Did HE think about their child when he was terrorizing her? No? Ok then.

"She's not your baby," Addison whispered miserably. "She's Marks, and I have nothing left to lose." She looked up at him and saw the anger flashing in his eyes. She saw him clench his fist and automatically flinched, waiting for him to strike her, but nothing happened.

"I can't even deal with you right now." He said shaking his head. He heard the doorknob turn and helped her up, and back into her bed just as the nurse walked in.

"What's going on here?" She asked, Addison was just sitting back on the bed, and Derek gently squeezed her arm, warningly. "You're supposed to be on strict bedrest, Dr. Montgomery Shepherd."

"I had to go to the bathroom," Addison said simply, as Derek reattached her to the monitors. The nurse looks doubtfully at the monitors until Addison said: "I couldn't very well haul all this (she gestures to the monitors) to that tiny bathroom with me now could I?"

"Of course not I'm sorry." The nurse re attached Addison's IV and Derek made himself busy doing things a decent human would do like fluffing Addison's pillows, making sure she is comfortable, and giving her the gentlest of kisses on her head while the nurse checked her vitals. She knows better than to give the slightest hint of discomfort when they were in the presence of other people. She has been trained to respond like the perfect Stepford wife. Loving, adoring even.

"I'm going to be sick," Addison said suddenly. The nurse rushed to get something to catch it in, but she didn't have time as Addison's stomach convulsed and she vomited. The first wave of sick covering both her and Derek who was too close to her and had no choice but to comfort her to uphold his image of the perfect husband.

"I'm sorry." Addison repeated over and over again, as he rubbed her back and smoothed her hair back away from her face in-between rounds of vomit, which were now making it into an empty bedpan. She tried to move away from him, but he kept her close, aware of the nurse busying herself getting clean sheets and pajamas for Addison from the wardrobe in the hospital room.

"It's not your fault sweetie." Derek soothed "It's OK. These things happen. Are you OK?" He asked his voice full of what Addison knew to be nothing other than false concern.

Addison nodded. The nurse had placed her clothing in the bathroom for both her and Derek and then unclipped her monitors again so that she could shower.

"Your vitals are OK, do you need help in the shower?" She asked. Addison looked over to Derek, who gave her a threatening look.

"No… Derek will help me." She said she wanted so badly to scream, to beg the nurse to stay with her, but she couldn't. Years of conditioning and the response was automatic before even thought about it. ALWAYS make Derek look good. NEVER reveal that their life is anything other than perfect. The nurse nodded and got her cleaning supplies to clean and change her bedding while Derek helped her into the bathroom.

*Bathroom*

Derek helped Addison out of her clothing. Her body was stiff, she wanted so desperately to push him away, however, she automatically fell back into that role of submissive wife.

'If you don't want him to hurt you be submissive. Derek won't hurt you as bad if you don't make him so angry.' She reminded herself silently.

He turned on the water, just right. Not too hot, not too cold, and ran his hands over Addison's naked body, pausing on her stomach right feeling the baby kick as he helped her into the shower. He looked at her exposed body, covered in scars and still healing bruises. He starred at the bandages taped to her stomach, and the old him wondered what had happened before he realized that he did not care. For anyone else, this may have been a loving embrace, but for Addison, it was torture, a sign that no matter what she did she would never be free of him. She began shaking, and her breathing was uneven as she carefully washed up aware of him taking in her every move. He sat down on the toilet, quietly just watching.

"We're going to work this out." He finally said. "I'm with Meredith now. I can't have you screwing up my one chance at true happiness." This statement stung. She looked at him sadly, now shampooing her hair. She's been away from him for a while now, and she is still buying that ONE shampoo and conditioner. The only one he ever allowed her to use. The floral scent mixed with sweet vanilla nearly makes her start vomiting all over again.

"Why would I do that? I already told you she's not yours." Addison says sharply forgetting herself for a minute, something that would have earned her a slap across the face admittedly, but it didn't. He just looks at her, and that makes her more scared than ever. She knew this move. He was waiting. Watching. Like a snake looking for the perfect opportunity to strike.

"You're going to keep this baby. You're going to raise her. You're going to look her in the eye every single day and know that YOU did this to her." He hisses, to be nasty more than anything else as he moved across the room and punched her hard in her incision taking her breath, and causing her to bend over in unthinkable pain. He considered all of the times he had come home from work to find Addison passed out drunk or high on pain medication. Not thinking that he could have possibly had ANYTHING to do with her various struggles. She sank down and sat in the corner of the shower, letting the warm water flow over her, resting her head on her knees. "Get up." He snarled, grabbing her arm and pulling her. Her feet slip, and he pulls her out of the shower onto the tile. He takes a small syringe from the pocket of his scrubs, removes the cap and pushes the air out. Before she can move, he's twisted her arm behind her back and injected the full syringe into her neck.

"Derek?" She asked questioningly, her eyes full fear as her body grew numb, paralyzed. The effects of the drugs he injected took effect much quicker than he expected them to.

"You're OK." He said calmly. "I had someone mix you up something extraordinary." He said almost soothingly, looking over to the trash can where he had dropped the syringe after he injected her. "It's a liquid Rohypnol, a paralyzing agent. You won't remember a thing." He taunted. Maybe it was just the drugs messing with her mind, but the room was spinning around her, and his voice was sing-song. "Shhh…. Shhhh… Don't fight it." He said as she groaned in pain. He knelt down next to her and smoothed her hair out of her face. "You know I can't risk you screaming and anyone coming in." He removed his vomit covered clothing and put them in a sink of soapy water to soak giving the medicine a while to kick in. He knelt down beside her, moving his hands over her body, excitement rising at her lack of resistance as he took another syringe and inserted it into her, as close as possible to the cervix as he could get. Misoprostol. A medication that was initially created to cure ulcers and erectile dysfunction. It was a drug that had the unfortunate side effect of inducing labor / spontaneous abortions if injected directly near the cervix.

"I love you, and you'll never be able to escape my love, but this medicine (he gestured to the syringe, and the tube of white goo.), this medicine will help solve our 'little problem.'" He didn't want the baby to survive, but he knew the struggles of preterm infants, especially those addicted to drugs or alcohol. If the baby lived Addison would have to survive that guilt, and if she died, well Addison would have to stomach the fact that she killed her. Both was Derek wins. He was covering himself with a creamy mixture of the same medication, positioning himself on top of her, preparing to do the unimaginable when the bathroom door slammed open, and Mark Sloan entered.

"What in the hell are you doing in here?"

"My wife and I were having a shower together, and she passed out, I stabilized her and was just about to call for help." Derek said smoothly.

"You were going to call for help with your penis?" Mark asked looking down, raising his eyebrows, and didn't even wait for a response before he pulled back his fist and knocked Derek out cold. It wasn't a fair fight. Derek wasn't expecting it, and Mark, well Mark's love and protection for Addison had always made him seem stronger than he was. He was like the Hulk when she is in danger.

Mark grabbed a blanket from the wardrobe and pulled Addison into his arms, wrapping her in its warmth and preserving her dignity the best that he could as he pushes the nurse call button.

"We need a doctor in here NOW, and call the police." He demanded when the nurse asked if everything was OK. Why does HE always end up in these situations with her? Nurses and doctors rushed into the room carefully lifting her up and onto a gurney. And put a dry blanket over her to keep her warm.

.

'What happened?'

'Do you know if she took anything?'

'Does she have any allergies?'

'Do you know her blood type?'

.

The questions came quick and in a hurry as they stabilized her and wheeled her out of the room for testing. Derek began to wake up and sat up slowly.

"The police will want to talk to you." Mark spat at him. "I suggest you put some pants on." Derek was still half out of it, and Mark kicked him hard in the manhood before walking out the door to check on Addison.