AN: This a pretty late update, don't you think? Haha. No worries though. I have two more chapters and an epilogue to go, then this is gonna be a wrap. :) Thanks for all the reviews, by the way! I know... Meredith thing was pretty unexpected (or not), but yeah. Hope you enjoyed it anyway. :) Here's the next chapter and I hope you like it. :)

- I still own nothing, unfortunately.

Mark walked into the walls of Seattle Grace Hospital, brushing the tiny droplets of rain that made its way on his coat. He was fully intent on finding Addison, but for what, he wasn't sure of. He knew that in the amount of time Addison had spent with Derek since the incident, Derek had managed to melt Addison's heart, ruining her determination to move on. And Addison being Addison, she would be resistant at first but would slowly cave in to his charm. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that Addison and Derek were, well, AddisonandDerek again. That much he was sure of.

So when he purchased that ticket to Seattle Tacoma, he honestly had no idea what he was going to do. He assumed it was some primal desire to care for the woman he loved, to be there for her regardless of the fact that he knew he was only making himself vulnerable to pain. But it was more than that. He loved her, truly and deeply, and he would be damned if he let her go without a fight.

Sure he had told her he would be okay with her settling with Derek again, but something in his gut wanted him to make sure she was well taken cared of, by Derek no less. And he was going to do everything in his power to ensure that. In a way, then, she was letting her go and allowing himself to move forward with his life.

With purpose, therefore, he walked through Seattle Grace confidently, charming the nurses to direct him to Derek's room and then knocking on its door hesitantly.

"Come in," he heard her say from behind the door, her voice somewhat distracted.

Gingerly, he placed his hand on the knob and turned it, poking his head through the small opening before he allowed his whole body in.

Addison looked up from her shuffling, surprised to see Mark standing by the door. "Mark?"

He smiled sheepishly, closing the door behind him. "Hey, Addie."

"What are you doing here?" Addison smiled, putting down the shirt she was folding and walking over to him, allowing him to wrap her in a warm embrace.

He kissed her forehead, as was appropriate seeing as Derek was eyeing them from the bed, his eyes ablaze with jealousy. "I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said earnestly.

Addison pulled away but held on his collar lightly. "That's sweet."

"She's okay," Derek said from the bed, glaring at the hand Mark had on Addison's hip. "A phone call would have sufficed," he said curtly.

Mark grinned, pulling away from Addison and walking deeper into the room. "Oh, but I wanted to make it personal. All she's been getting these past two years have been phone calls," he said pointedly. "I wanted to be different."

Derek continued to glare, resisting the urge to snap, to let out some caustic remark, and to lash out completely at Mark. He had to keep calm if he wanted to show Addison he was worth it.

"Besides," Mark continued, taking a seat on the couch across the bed, "I was worried about you. It's not everyday your best friend is a victim of cyanide poisoning."

Addison grinned from the doorway before plopping herself on the bed and kissing Derek on the forehead. "He's just teasing Derek," she said, looking at Mark disapprovingly but smiling just the same.

She honestly didn't know how she felt with Mark there. Part of her was happy, she supposed. Relieved even. But part of her panicked as well, the countless possibilities that accompanied Mark's presence flashing before her eyes.

Mark nodded from the couch, making himself cozy. "So, Derek, how've you been man?"

"Better about 5 minutes ago, before you came."

"Ooooh, ouch," Mark said, biting his lip from laughing at Derek's immaturity. Maturity never really was one of Derek's strongest suits, but he made up for it in other ways. "How about now?"

"Like I want to raise hell," Derek answered curtly, refusing to look at Mark. He knew for a fact that if he did, he might see the smugness in his features and the triumph in his eyes. And the last thing he wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

"All right, break it up you two, before this thing gets less than amicable," Addison warned, standing up to continue fixing the room. "I don't want you fighting."

"We're not fighting," Derek and Mark said simultaneously, their 30 years of friendship making its presence known. Derek glared and Mark just smirked. They were blood brothers, no matter how much they denied it.

"We're not fighting," Derek repeated. "But I would love to know why Mark is here."

She raised and brow at Derek before eyeing Mark. "You heard him," she said to Mark. "Why are you here?"

Mark shrugged. "I told you, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why would you think she needs taking care of? I'm here," Derek stated, feeling the anger starting to boil in his blood.

He snorted. "Like you've been taking care of her," Mark said sarcastically, instantly regretting it with the look Addison gave him.

"I have," Derek said indignantly, wanting nothing more than to strangle Mark Sloan right there and then. "I've been taking care of her," asshole, he wanted to add, but thought the better of it.

Mark nodded. "Yeah, whatever you say."

"I have!" he repeated, his voice raising. "What gives you the right to butt in to my marriage like this and—"

"Marriage? You call this a marriage? You and Addison are getting a divorce by the end of this year and—"

"We're on trial separation," he snapped, breathing heavily.

"Guys," Addison warned, but her warning fell on deaf ears. She shook her head as she looked nervously between the two. Someone was bound to get hurt, she was sure.

Mark snorted again. "Like that makes it all better. Really, Derek? You're this close to getting a divorce," he said, gesturing with his fingers, "but you're in hopeless denial."

"Why can't you leave me and my marriage alone? Why can't you just go back to New York and let me and Addie handle this? Is it not enough that you screwed my wife on my bed, on my favorite sheets? Do you really have to rub everything in my face?"

"I'll rub what I want to rub," Mark said gruffly. "You deserve the verbal reprimand. You're an asshole, always have been and always will. But if I, for one moment, thought about hurting you the way I did, I would stop now and leave. But all I've ever wanted was to make sure that Addison, the woman that I love, was happy. And you weren't keeping your end of the bargain so I made it my business."

"Great. Because you love her, you have to right to screw her? She's my wife, Mark! I thought you had more brains than that. I thought you had more moral than that," he said coldly. "But I was terribly mistaken. You have respect for nothing. I love my wife, Mark."

"You're not the only one who has the right to love her, especially if you treat her this way!"

"Guys…" Addison said again, running a hand through her hair and looking from Derek to Mark with a worried expression. "You seriously have to stop—"

"What the fuck, Mark? What part of marriage don't you understand? Is your ego so big that you can't see past it? That you can comprehend the sanctity—"

"Don't talk to me about sanctity! You don't get to do that. You've had your own fair share of mistakes so you're not a saint! But why can't you get past the mistake and just, for once, stop and see that I'm still here, I'm still your best friend. You saw Addie again, why should I be any different?"

"Addison is my wife," Derek said coldly, his breathing hard and restrained. "And you're just a friend. With you, I have no obligation to try."

Mark's eyes widened, as did Addison's, as the implication of Derek's words hit them both. Derek instantly regretted what he said as he turned to see the hurt expression on Addison's face. She felt like she had been slapped in the face, like everything she had been fighting for was for nothing. It was a blow she wasn't prepared to receive.

"I didn't mean it like that, I—"

"Save it," Addison whispered, raising her hand up to stop him from speaking any more. "I think I understood what you meant."

"No!" Derek almost yelled, struggling to get out of the bed and walk over to Addie. "You don't understand. That's not what I meant."

"So what did you mean?" Addison snapped, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "Enlighten me, Derek. Did you not just imply that I was an obligation? That you're trying because of some responsibility?" she spat, her eyes ablaze with anger.

"No!" Derek said quickly, running a hand through his brown locks, trying to think of a way to approach the situation. "Addison, you know I didn't mean it like that!"

"Do I really?" she asked, her anger slowly building up. "You know, if you made that slip a couple of months ago, when I first got here, I would've sucked it up and accepted it because that's what I was then, an obligation. But god, we're so close to getting a divorce but still you act like you love me and want to be with me. And then this? Derek! Do you really hate me that much as to lead me on this way? Is your innate need to the good guy always going to have t hurt me this way?"

"Addie…"

"I'm not finished! I honestly believed, in the two days I've been back, that maybe we really aren't meant to be apart. But now you spring the whole obligation thing in my face and it's made me doubt myself all over again. So this is what everything is then now, right? I'm you're wife and you're obligated to try."

Derek sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

She glared at him, curling her fists to prevent her from scratching his eyes out. "I don't want you to say anything. On the contrary, I want you to do something. I want you to never, ever, speak to me again. I never want to see you; I never want to hear from or about you. You're dead to me, Derek, from now on. You're dead to me," she repeated, picking her purse up in a flurry and storming out the room, leaving Derek and Mark gaping behind her.

And for a while after Addison's exit, there was only shocked silence that filled the room as both Mark and Derek tried to make sense of what had just happened. Both of them didn't expect the conversation to take a turn for the worst, for Addison anyway. If any, they expected the wedge between the pseudo-brothers to drive in deeper for them, not for Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd.

"This is all your fault," Derek said bitterly after a moment, the hopelessness in his tone quite evident. "We were doing okay."

"You know as well as I do that this is your own doing. You're just looking for someone to lay blame on again. But you know what? Why don't you try laying it on yourself for once. Maybe then you could actually stop hurting her," Mark said, giving Derek a pitiful look before standing up in search of Addison.

He had no idea where to start looking. Addison being Addison, she could be anywhere, especially in a hospital she had no emotional attachments to. So following his instincts, he went straight up to the operating rooms and found her sitting in the corner of an empty gallery, trying furiously to wipe away her tears.

"Addie…"

She looked up at Mark and sighed, not bothering to conceal the fact that she was breaking down. "I'm sorry about that," she whispered.

He strode over to where she was and plopped down beside her, wrapping an arm on her shoulder and allowing her to lean on him. "Don't be," he said firmly. "You don't have to be strong all the time."

"But I just… can't believe I allowed him to hurt me again. I thought… I thought we were past that. Apparently we're not."

"Adds… you were married to the guy for eleven years. Things like that just don't go away that easily."

"It's not fair," she said bitterly.

"Nothing is," Mark answered somberly. "But you're handling it as best you could."

Addison sniffed, wiping the tears away angrily with the back of her hand. "I'm so stupid, Mark."

"You're not," he said firmly. "And as much as it pains me to say this, don't walk away. Don't let this one mistake come between what you really want with Derek."

She looked up at him curiously, somehow not comprehending what Mark had just said. "What?"

Mark sighed, ignoring the searing pain in his heart as he slowly let the woman he loved go. "Addie… don't you ever wonder why you hurt this much?" he asked, hisvoice pained. "It's because you love him, and so does he. You care enough to argue, to fly all the way from New York to be together or away and it just all boils down to the fact that you love each other. You're just both too stubborn to act on it."

"Mark…"

"No, listen," he implored. "He called you an obligation. So what? The Addison I know would've scoffed it off with some caustic remark. You would've proven to him how he's not doing it out of obligation, but out of love. Adds… I know you see it. I know that you know that he's not doing it because he's obligated to try."

"What are you saying?"

"He was too caught up in the moment, Addison; because of me. For that, I'm sorry. I worked him up and you're the one who ended up getting hurt. But you didn't give him a chance to explain. Of course he loves you. Maybe at first he wasn't trying wholeheartedly, but he is now and you just… gotta give him a chance, Adds."

"I gave him too many chances, Mark. And he keeps on breaking my heart every time."

"Then don't let him. Don't give him a reason to, okay? Don't give up on him."

She looked at him skeptically and wrinkled her nose. "It's not like you to be so…"

"Giving?" he supplied.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding slowly. "Not quite the word, but it would suffice. It's not like you to be so giving."

Mark sighed, pulling her closer. "I never thought I'd be this giving too. But Addie… I meant what I said. I love you, and all I want is for you to be happy. I know Derek does just that, when his head's not too high up his ass anyway. But just the same, I'm… letting you go because…"

"That's what love is," she said quietly. "Letting people go."

He nodded, rubbing her arm. "It's not easy… but seeing you smile and laugh sincerely is enough for me."

"And Derek?"

"He makes you happy. Once you get past denying it, Adds, you'll allow yourself to be happy."

"What if he hurts me again?"

He shrugged. "It's a risk you have to take. But if you ask me… he seems honest this time."

Addison sighed. "I can't allow myself to hurt again."

"Then don't give him a reason to. He wants to work things out with you, Adds, truly and honestly. Don't deny him that. But importantly, don't deny yourself the opportunity. It's time he makes up for his shortcomings."

"And you'll be okay?" she asked timidly, mentally kicking herself for hurting him all over again.

He nodded reassuringly. "I'll be okay. But remember… I'll always be here to pick up the pieces. Always."

-

"There are way too many people in this state whose last name is Jones. We're going to have to narrow down the search," the man, wiping the sweat that had started to form on his forehead.

"Right, with Abraham Jones," the detective said, scanning over the records that lay scattered on the table. "Do you have some sort of family tree or anything?"

The man nodded, pulling out a large file from the drawer, huffing slightly as he set it on the table. "We're still working on computerizing everything," he stated dryly, not at all looking apologetic for the added labor the files would entail. This being the technological revolution, people would've thought everyone was past manual labor.

Detective Sanders sighed, looking near hopeless but nodding. "Let's get to it then. Look for an Abraham Jones, or a Peter Jones. They're big on real estate in Washington State."

"I'll start looking now. I'll call you when I get anything."

"Thank you," the detective said, marching right out of the office and to his car. He was to be his way to Seattle Grace to check on the employee files Richard Webber had readied for him. The chief had narrowed down the files to the cafeteria staff to hopefully make things easier. After all, everything from here on in was hoping, and waiting.

He almost broke every speed limit and traffic rule there was in his haste to get to the hospital, knowing that if whoever had done it still worked at Seattle Grace, he or she would know what was abuzz with the Montgomery-Shepherd case, therefore giving ample time to leave. When he got to the hospital, then, he parked hastily and power-walked to Richard Webber's office. The case wasn't as high-profile as the kidnapping, but it was still important. All the notabe lawyers were breathing down his neck, as per commissioned by Beatrice Forbes. He nad no room to figure things out.

He went up the elevatory hurriedly, checking his watch every two seconds before the doors opened and he exited. He walked through the halls and passed Patricia, Richard's secretary without so much as a greeting and knocked briskly on the door, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor as he awaited a response.

"Come in," he heard the chief say from behind the door, and he opened it to find him sitting on his chair and reviewing some of the employee files.

"Chief."

"Detective."

"What have you got for me today?" he asked, closing the door and sitting on the chair right in front of the chief.

Richard nodded, handing the detective a file. "Kitchen personnel," he said simply.

The detective took it gratefully, flipping it open and scanning through the names. His eyes read through the names, reviewing surnames and middle initials, his brain trying to find a link to Peter Jones.

"Uh…" the chief interrupted. "What exactly are we looking for?" he asked curiously, his brow furrowing at the serious look the detective had on his face.

He looked up, startled somewhat but smiling apologetically. "Any link to Peter Jones," he answered. "We're thinking it's familial but it could be otherwise. I suppose we're trying to eliminate any family members from the wide list of suspects." He sighed, trying hard not to think about the impossibility of the situation. "There's a vague variety of people we could take a lead on," he commented.

The chief smiled dryly. "Well… if it matters any… we have a kitchen staff whose middle name is Jones. But you and I both know Jones is a very common surname," he said almost expertly, himself having reviewed the casefiles before calling the detective in the first place.

"Show me," he instructed, handing the file back, feeling rather agitated.

Richard sighed, not used to taking orders from anyone. But his pride told him he needed to get things fixed, so he relented anyway. At times like these, it was better to swallow things instead of finding yourself regretting not having done so when all is too late. He flipped through the pages one by one and landed on the 4th one, nodding approvingly before handing it back to the detective.

The detective narrowed his eyes as he zoomed in on the information, things clicking so quickly his brain that before he knew it, he was making phone calls to the station, his heart pounding at the possible lead.

Mara Theresa Jones- Gallagher
Female, Married
Date of Birth: July 24, 1950
Place of Birth: Hartford, Connecticut
Educational Attainment: High School; Northgate Academy

-

Mara fidgeted in front of the detective, her gaze following his movement as he paced the small room. She knew she should've ran. She knew they would trace the cyanide back to her. But her sister-in-law's words racked her brain so much that she was paralyzed, her feet planted to Seattle Grace ground permanently. In retrospect, she had no clue if she did things out of guilt, out of sheer passion, or out of revenge. She didn't know if she regretted it, or if she was too indifferent to care. All she knew was that she had no idea if things were really going to work out for the best.

"Are you going to tell me why I'm here?" she asked, her voice slightly impatient.

The detective stopped his pacing and raised a brow at her. "I was wondering if you could tell me that, too."

Mara sighed, running a hand through her messy brownish-grey hair, her thin wrist curving at an angle. "What do you want to know?"

"What you're not telling me," he answered. "Coffee. Cyanide. Meredith Grey. Derek Shepherd. Peter Jones. It's an odd equation, yes. Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

She raised a brow at him. "Maybe," she said, being rather difficult.

He sighed. "You know, whether or not you speak now, we still get to detain you. There's some pretty strong evidence against you." He stared down at her, intimadating her until she had to force her gaze downward. The man truly was daunting, making him an ideal detective.

Mara nodded, closing her eyes in thought as a shiver ran down her spine at his intense gaze. "Peter Jones is… was… my brother," she said slowly.

The detective nodded, taking a seat right in front of her. "I think I got that much." He was satisfied with the way she was speaking up.

"Estranged brother, actually. When our parents divorced, my father and I settled here in Washington, and he and my mother stayed in Hartford. We never got along much," she said simply, as if the last part of her statement could sum up everything that had transpired in the past months.

"Sibling rivalry?" he asked dryly, not really expecting an answer.

She shrugged. "I suppose you could call it that."

He nodded. "Did you really want to kill him?" he asked, referring to Derek Shepherd. After all, there was no use beating around the bush. No leeway was necessary.

Her eyes widened. "You're assuming, detective Sanders," she stated warningly. "Innocent until proven guilty, remember?"

"Yeah, well, in your case, you're guilty until proven innocent," he commented dryly. "So you can tell us why you did it, which is rather obvious, or you could lie. But between you and me, I think a taped confession would save us all the time and effort," he said knowingly, not leaving any sort of comfortable pretense. He was a man of business. He was direct and straight to the point.

"Do you normally treat people this disrespectfully?" she asked spitefully, unable to help her tone of voice.

"Do you normally poison people with cyanide?" he shot back, retorting. "Because if you do, I'll probably just send you to psych instead of jail. You're crazy after all."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Mara caved in. She sighed, defeated. There was no escaping now. It was a more logical thing to do, anyway; to confess and plead guilty. Maybe the jury would take pity on her. "My sister-in-law guilt-tripped me into it," she whispered.

His interest was suddenly perked, his back straightening as he strained his ear to listen. "Oh? How so?" he asked, his brows raising ever so slightly.

She sighed again, heavier this time. "She told me it was the least I could do considering how Peter and I never patched things up before he died."

He nodded, scribbling down notes. "And who did you say your sister-in-law was?"

"Agatha Jones," she replied curtly.

Sorry about the Addek scene there. But I think I didn't hurt Mark too much, right? I feel bad though. After Addek, Mark and Addison are like the next Grey's power couple. They're totally the Brangelina of Shondaland. Hahaha. Anyway, let me know what you think of this chap. :) Thanks for reading! 3