A/N: So insert some really great excuse here as to why this hasn't been updated. Go for it, be creative. Aside from that, the obligatory thanks all around to everyone who keeps this story trucking and to the beta, I've got nothing. Enjoy!

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She waits all day
She stands a stranger in her skin
She moves the science with her hands
She lines her walls
With every paper she can see
These words consume her
But they never set her free
And then she looked at me to scream
"My castles are falling"
But I can't look into the street
Without everything changing
I want to read good news
I want to be innocent again
I want to read good news
But nothing good is happening
-Something Corporate, "Good News"
-----

He's waiting. He's giving her time but it feels like all he is ever doing is giving Addison time. Time to heal from her marriage, time to feel better, just time and then some more time on top of that. It's exhausting to be the only one holding her up and to be the only one who understands that that is perfectly ok for the time being. What's more tiring is her conserving all of her effort to fight against him and prove to the world that she doesn't need help. He thinks maybe it's inadvertent; maybe it's just her nature to go it alone. But the exception to that rule was Derek so he spends most of his time wondering just why in god's name he isn't enough to be an exemption.

He's more than Derek really, if you examine the matter at hand carefully enough but he's cursed with the whole wrong time thing. Maybe in another lifetime sort of deal, where situations never line up quite right but just enough that they leave him more fucked up than before. He's got the nurturing thing down; he knows the way to hold her when she wants to cry or when she just needs a hug he can tell from a single frown. He knows how she takes her coffee (or he supposes how she used to take her coffee), that she hates eating breakfast but she'll do it because she's a doctor and one can only be hypocritical about so many things in life, that she actually prefers those damn skirts and heels over jeans but not over a pair of old comfy boxers (preferably his) and he knows that she actually likes baseball and only pretends to bitch and not understand the rules because that's what girls do.

He's good at doing so many things for her. Good at making her come, making her scream and writher (not that he's had a chance lately to remind her but nonetheless), making her laugh and smile after a particularly rough surgery (not that she does that anymore either but regardless) and he's good at lifting her spirits when the world is crashing down (not that she's letting him anymore but nevertheless). But he can't figure out why he's not good with her. Why he isn't good enough for her. Does every single person she loves have to treat her like crap in order for the game to work? Why can't they simply be the best couple he has ever envisioned? The highly functional duo who can take on the world with or without kids but he supposes that the hang up is her; them. For every one thing he has down pat about her she has no clue about him. He meant it when he said that it was her turn to fight but how do you make someone who is drowning fight for something that may very well only hold their head under the water for longer? How do you get that trust from someone who would prefer to live in bed everyday and wither away to nothing? How does he get her to care without yelling in her face?

Time is frustrating.

-----

"I hate talking!" Ellie screams as Mark pulls her half knotted shoelace from her hand and begins to sort out the ties.

"Clearly." He mocks and then looks up to see her eyes brimming with tears. Score one for Mark.

"Elianna, this is not a choice. Mark are you ready yet?" Addison asks tip toeing from the pseudo kitchen with one happily fed and dressed infant in hand.

"Almost." He nearly rips apart the shoelaces before tossing them to the corner and demanding that she find a different pair of shoes, ones that she could snap or Velcro or glue on. Not even his highly talented surgeon's hands care to master the finer points of tightly wound knots.

"Violet said she could only stay until 3 so if we want-"

"Addison, I heard you. Do you think that is making her move any faster?"

"Right. Sorry."

She's too quick to apologize these days he notices. Too hasty to assume it's all her fault and scoop up the blame, not that a life well spent hasn't taught her the logistics of shoving it all deeper anyway. "Stop apologizing." He snaps and then sighs heavily.

He was hoping when she agreed to see Violet yesterday something productive would have come about but instead all they got was another meeting with Violet today and none of it was about Addison. She returned the day before from her coffee date morose and more withdrawn than before citing she needed sleep and then promptly crawled into bed to dream, or in what he has seen, stare away her issues. They haven't talked, haven't discussed a damn thing and now need to be in twenty nine places at once. It wears thin, walking around in her shoes, it gets old after about an hour and he can't imagine how she did it all those years.

"Right." She nods quietly and begins to busy herself with all things baby until Ellie emerges from the room with a brush hanging from her mangled hair and one shoe on and another in hand.

"I don't wanna go!" She screams stomping her feet in every direction they will go and using words far too simple for her elaborate vocabulary.

"What part of 'not a choice' did you not understand?" Mark asks removing the brush from her hair and setting her down on the bed.

"I hate her. She's stupid and I hate her!" She yells picking up intensity and volume with every syllable.

"Why is she stupid?"

"She makes me talk. I don't want to talk. I want to read and color and play. I don't want to talk!" She shouts into Mark's unshaven face nearly causing him to lose all patience as Addison drifts from the room afraid of a conflict she can't handle.

"Alright kid, here's the thing. You have to go."

"I said-"

"I heard you." He shakes his head. "Believe me, I heard you. So we're going to go and you can talk or not talk. That's your call, ok?' She bounces her head a little unsure. "We had a good talk a few days ago, remember?" She nods again. "If you have questions-"

"I don't." She counters immediately growing defensive.

"Ok, well. We'll go and you talk about whatever you want or don't want. Talk about kangaroos or whatever book you were reading-"

"Charlotte's Web." She beams with a smile.

Mark's pretty sure that once upon a time he had to read that book, something about a pig but it is all lost now. That space in his brain now reserved for useless information like blonde Samantha's phone number in New York, the one from the café on 5th. Useless. "Alright, Charlotte's Web. You tell her all about that." He says with a smirk knowing full well that that would be one hell of a session to sit in on.

"Can we name the baby Charlotte? Or Wilbur?" Inspired, she begins pulling the other shoe on and grabbing the brush back from Mark because he pulls too hard as she's learned.

"Your sister's name is Kennedy, kiddo. Sorry, she's got a name. We can't change it."

"Not Kendy." She replies crinkling her nose and using the nickname she much prefers to the full deal. If he had to admit it the kid got stuck with a shitty name that she is going to spend half of her time explaining because of a ridiculous family tradition. He can only wait and see what Addison had up her sleeve when the time comes. "The other baby Mark." She states with an eye roll far surpassed her years.

"Oh-" And then his stomach drops because for all of the worrying he's managed in the last day or so he actually forgot about the pregnancy. Aside from her morning sickness, refusal to eat anything and general complaints he somehow displaced that thought for another time. "You ask Aunt Addie alright?"

"Ask me what?"

"Can we name the baby Charlotte or Wilbur?"

Addison raises her brow confused and looks to Mark for help. "We could name one Charlotte and the other Wilbur, there's two babies in there, remember?" He explains and she nods and Addison's face drops like he just reminded her about the worst day of her life. Honestly, he's trying to be helpful. Trying to distract and reroute the enthusiasm so the little red head on the bed with a temper to match the tall red head standing next to him can continue to smile for just a second longer.

"Actually you can't." She answers with a stiffened jaw and unapologetic eyes.

"Addison." He warns before her face softens and she starts to explain the reason, "Mark, they are identical so they are either both boys or both girls. One or the other would suffice but not both."

"Identical." He replies and gulps in air until he chokes.

"I told you mono/di. Same placenta, different sacks. You don't listen."

"For the record I was preoccupied with everything and in a little bit of shock so okay, noted. They're identical." And he pauses, not for dramatic effect because even she can see the wheels turning as Ellie looks on from the bed with a perplexed look. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes." She demands more adamantly. If denying the fact that it was true was going to get her anywhere she would have been doing it since day one.

"Ok, then. You ready Elianna?" She looks from one adult to the other trying to decide what happened and then reaches out for Mark's hand. Being a big kid aside there is a certain comforting and calming effect he has and it is not unnoticed by the smaller beings in the room, only the larger one.

-----

She follows along behind them. Slowly lagging in their unnoticed footsteps Addison trudges to the designated meeting area. A well used bench in a park her eyes have never beheld before this moment. Violet wanted something with a couch but it was rejected immediately. If this was to be done she wanted it on her terms. She didn't want Ellie to feel trapped or punished. If she wanted to go swing then they would go swing, it was that simple. The meeting yesterday made it perfectly clear that she needed to start spending quality time with the five year old. Needed to put forth more of an effort. She had no idea where to start, where to find that kind of energy. As they edge closer toward the curly haired woman who had a black umbrella leaning up against her leg (just in case) Addison's breath catches in her throat. If she had a dollar for every time she was whisked away to therapy. Granted, she went voluntarily during her marriage to Derek but that was completely beside the point.

"Do I have to?" Elianna asks with a most serious look when they come to a hasty halt ten feet from the therapist.

"You really do." Mark affirms and looks back to Addison who has just joined them.

"I can sit with you, if you want or you could go play after." She throws down trying to make it more comfortable.

"Addison, I don't think you should be sitting in on her therapy session." He is in a similar boat but instead he was always the one seeking out the help. He went willingly and talked out everything he was never ever going to tell anyone else. When he thought one psychiatrist knew too much about him he would simply move on to the next or sleep with them. That usually ended the professional relationship.

"He's right." Violet adds after getting tired of sitting on the hard wood. Of all places, she keeps thinking to herself. How is she supposed to get anything accomplished with screaming children running around distracting both her and her patient?

"I was just-"

"It would be better if you and Mark just hung back a little. If she needs you we know exactly where to find you, ok?" Violet asks with a smile that could reassure a dying man breathing his last breaths. It's a talent.

"Yeah. Ok. Elianna we will be right over there." She points to the grass and then grimaces glancing down at her 800 dollar shoes. Mark holds forth the blanket like he knew exactly what was going to happen and then it all begins.

-----

Freeing the infant, Addison takes a seat on the blanket and places Kennedy along her long legs. She runs a light finger against her stomach hoping for the laugh Mark got out of her that day but instead is rewarded by a crumbling face. She sighs long enough for him to pick up the infant and place her against his chest to calm her. There was a turning point. He suddenly turned into the guy, who was good with kids, the guy who didn't hate them based on their vocal abilities. He has no idea when it happened but for as much as it frightens him it also excites him. This is what Addison wants; what she has always wanted in a man and he is enthralled by his newest skill. He lets his strong hand support her back as she drifts off to sleep and then attempts to give her back.

"She hates me. Just, keep her. She's better with you anyway." Addison mutters leaning back on her elbows and kicking her shoes off. Gasping she takes in the cool onset of fall air and tries to focus on the two characters in the distance.

"She doesn't hate you. She doesn't hate anyone."

"She hates almost everyone."

"Not anymore." He replies letting Kennedy rest against him a moment longer before pulling her back and demanding that Addison feel her smooth breathing in her own hands.

"Since when?" She asks daringly and relents when he forces the half sedated infant back into her personal space.

"Since Pete realigned her back. She still screams and crap but I think it helped. She sleeps a little more at least and she only woke us up five times last night as opposed to-"

"You let Pete do what?"

"He just said he wanted to show me something that would help. Honest to god, I didn't believe him either but it didn't seem to harm anything so-"

"You don't get to make those calls." She snaps too quickly feeling defensive.

"What?"

"She isn't yours. You don't…anything medical gets run through me. You don't get to make those decisions."

"What calls do I get to make here? When to change a diaper which by the way I completely kick ass at now, when to feed her, when to help you and give you a break in the middle night. I don't know when I turned into the fucking nanny but I thought-"

"Stop." She demands. Her voice is bare and raw, full of emotions begging to be screamed out but she remains calm and composed.

"This is so…so you. Controlling everything. Screw this."

"Walk away." She states a little quieter. Like is a dare, like she is calling his bluff.

"Oh yeah, you would love that. Sorry, we decided. I'll have you remember that we were doing this together, so I'm in. I'm in when you want to treat me like the fucking caregiver and I'm in when you decide to start treating me like a human again and stop using me for my hands." He rolls back a little and lies flat staring at the cloudy sky. It would only be too perfect if they opened up and drenched everything.

"I'm not using you. You're here because you want to be, you just said it. I'm- I don't…I can't fight with you right now. We are here for Ellie."

"It's always something Addison. Always something holding us back." He reminds her all to certain that she has completely forgotten their past.

"I don't want to do this." Her voice drops off at the end, leaving a little dip in his heart but she presses further because this is what she does. This is what they do.

"Fine, how about you don't bother talking to me until you can handle an actual conversation that doesn't include accusing me of being unworthy and undeserving."

She furrows her brow trying not to look over at him. She never mentioned anything about being unworthy and is too tired to dig deeper and see what the problem is. May as well let it infect and fester.

-----

"So…are you enjoying your time here?" Violet asks trying to break the ice. Child psychology is so not her area of expertise but she figures it can't hurt to at least give it a shot when no one else is willing.

Ellie shifts against the hard wood nearly getting a splinter through the tights of the purple dress she just had to wear today - despite Addison's protests of the looming weather - and listening patiently. She is a little unsure of what everyone wants from her at this point. Aside from the general urgent feel of needing to get home (to nothing) and knowing that everyone is hurting (and no one really cares) she thinks that it may just be best to set aside all the bad and move forward. "It's ok." She answers quietly swinging her legs back and forth as her sandal clad toes brush against the damp green grass.

Violet takes a deep breath and decides to just dive in, head first. "Ellie, I want to talk to you about those pictures. Remember the one you gave Naomi?"

"Yes." She replies picking up speed with her legs and relishing in the feeling of moisture against her chilly skin.

"Why did you draw that?"

"I thought that it would be a nice thing to do. Mommy always loved when I drawed for her. She put them on the wall of her office at work."

"Oh, well what did you used to draw for your mommy?"

She shrugs at first because the long list of colorful objects seems a little pointless to list out but then slows her feet and turns to where she can see her Aunt on the grass. "Aunt Addie is sad."

Clearly having picked up avoidance of important issues from said Aunt, Violet decides to play along. "Yes, she is. Do you know why she is sad?"

"Because mommy is in the ground, daddy is gone, that guy is in the hospital and there are babies in her." She explains her eyes locked on the three people thirty yards in the distance.

"Yeah. All those but guess what?"

"What?" She returns fairly uninterested when her eyes behold the slide and swings.

"She's still got you. She's got you and your sister and Mark, and maybe right now she doesn't realize that…but that's not the point. You make her feel better when she is sad."

She shakes her head at first, then kicks at the loose clump of green beneath her foot and turns to the adult. "You're wrong!"

"I'm not wrong." Violet scoffs and then catches herself and corrects her tone.

"You are wrong. Aunt Addie said she doesn't want us."

"She didn't."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too!"

At the risk of having an actual five year old fight in the middle of the park Violet lowers her voice and asks the more important questions. "When did she say that?"

"I don't know. She said it."

"Ok, she said it. Maybe she was frustrated and tired, adults get tired and they say things they don't mean. People say things they don't mean Ellie. All the time. It's part of the human condition."

"Lies?"

"Yes, lies. Little lies. But if she said that it doesn't mean it's true. She loves you very much, if she didn't- she wouldn't still have you, ok?"

"Sure." She responds dejectedly. "I used to draw rainbows and ponies cause daddy said I could have one soon and fish in the sea like Nemo and the dog I want."

Temporarily confused Violet tilts her head and then quickly connects the dots. "Ok, and what do you draw now?"

"Death."

-----

"I'm sorry." Addison whispers without removing her eyes from the scene in front of them.

He's still angry, still brewing from having his buttons pushed all damn week but he is exhausted enough to accept victory and hopefully move on. "Good."

"Good?"

"Well don't expect me to apologize, I didn't do anything wrong."

"Neither did I!" She starts and the rolls her neck and lies back facing the cloudy sky. Tugging on the sleeves of her sweater she buries her hands inside the warm fabric. There's something comfortable about the feeling, something she can't place but it helps even if she does look ridiculous half the time. Moments later she feels him next to her, both of them staring straight up hoping that lightening will strike with all of life's answers.

Wordlessly he pries her hand from its death grip and replaces it in his warmth. He doesn't get it and maybe he won't have to have it explained to him. Some things are not worth knowing. "I'm sorry too."

"You shouldn't be."

"Well, I am and there is nothing you can do about it."

"I wish you would stop doing this." She replies taking her hand back and stuffing it into the cave of homey feeling.

"Stop trying to touch my girlfriend?" For clarification purposes her tries to find her eyes and gives up when she refuses to look in his direction.

She takes a deep breath. Takes the time to compartmentalize all the issues and then turns to him with her most serious face on. "I need you to stop treating me like I'm going to fall apart."

"Addison-"

"Hear me out. You told me to think, told me to fight and I have to be honest. Right now, I don't have it in me."

He shifts onto his side and watches as the thought flow off her tongue in another of what he is sure will be a well rehearsed speech. "Ok, what does that mean?"

"It means that I need something to stay normal right now."

"Uh-huh."

"I can't fight for you. Not right now, I can't…I can hardly-"

"Are you saying-"

"I'm not saying anything Mark. I'm trying-"

"Addison. I'm a fairly dense male so if this is a girly freak out, I'm going to need clear words and logical thoughts."

Trying to ward off the tears, which she has been managing wonderfully for the better half of the week, she raises her arms in the arm. "It is logical!" And then they are by her side again, searching more furiously for a good spot to rest. "It is logical to me."

"Well, explain it." He tries again pulling her hand out and grasping it tightly praying to whoever is up there that she isn't trying to end this.

"I can't do this with you."

"Do what?"

She motions wildly with her free hand to the sprawling hills and running children. "All of it. I can't, you won't let me."

"Let you what Addison?" He warns with his voice growing defensive. He sure as hell has been pulling more than his fair share of the weight and bashing will not be tolerated.

"I'm stuck and you're here and nothing is normal and you won't let me, you won't let me!" She shrieks her voice breaking in the end and tears spilling down over her face. As her shoulders begin to shake and her chest heaves in the cool air he sits up and tries to draw her closer. "Don't. Don't touch, stop touching!"

He pulls his hands back when her fists thunk upon his chest and her body puts more space in between them while swiping at her wet face. "You aren't making any sense."

"I'm trying to explain and you can't, don't touch me."

"Alright fine so long as you settle down. I don't want Kennedy to wake up." The last part is a bit of lie because the little ones screams would be far more welcome than the growing public scene that he was convinced would never happen with her.

"Oh yeah, real nice Mark. Use the baby."

"Addison." He growls. "Please finish what you were saying."

"This isn't working."

"Just say it."

"I am!"

"You want…after all of that, you are going to look at me and tell me it isn't working? What you needed the higher moral ground? You needed to be the one who was doing the breaking up? Addison, I-"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?" He demands jutting his legs straight out in front of him in an effort to remain in place instead of walking away.

"I have to think about my children, Derek's children."

"And what about these other kids? You aren't babysitting Addison; you can't just give them back when we can't even find their father. I'm here and…I'm here and Derek is in a hospital. Derek who walks away from you every chance he gets, Derek who picks up extra shifts so he doesn't have to talk to you, Derek who volunteers to scrub in so he won't have to look at you, Derek! You want-"

Trying not to relive the pain of her marriage and subsequent divorce she lets her fingers picks at the grass bordering the wrinkled blanket. Toying with the stems of kelly green and plucking them thoughtlessly from their home and thereby killing them she exclaims, "I don't want Derek."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want my sister, ok there I said it. I'm hurting, I'll admit it and you don't get to hold it against me, you don't get to throw it in my face that I am doing a horrible job with her children, I know! I'm a failure in every damn dimension of my life but you don't get to say it, you don't." She pauses when the familiar moisture begins to trek down cheekbones and drops onto the plaid before her. "I miss her…I miss her so much and I- it's not supposed to be this hard…for me. It's been too long and I can't…you won't." Trailing off her fingers stops their exploration and she bites down hard on her lip waiting for a response.

It's something so much different to think it twenty-four-seven then to voice it aloud to someone who could use it against you. There's something incredibly vulnerable in the admission that hangs in the air between beating hearts and frustrated minds. His eyes dart and flit over her figure, her posture, her ever present emotions. Tentatively he reaches out to her legs and rubs light circles until she pushes him back.

"Don't touch." She whispers settling back on watching Ellie with Violet.

-----

There isn't a logical and fulfilling response as to why the small child with fidgeting hands in front of her is trying to draw death out on a piece of paper. There's no sense to make of the situation. All she needs is more talking, discussion, love, she needs to feel wanted and secure so that the little things don't turn into hysterics in an airport and endless supplies of beheaded stick figures covered in red crayon. They talk for a few more minutes; about school as Violet tries to get her adjusted to therapy because there is no way this one isn't going to be a lifer.

They talk about how she wants to go home, how she wants her father, her general disdain (although wavering) for her little sister and the fact that she doesn't really know where she is. That fact alone is scary enough for any five year old, displacement, hell adults don't even do that well with it Violet commends.

When they finish Ellie's legs still swirl but her hands come to a rest in her lap and Violet likes to think that maybe, just maybe she was able to help someone and her job isn't the hoax everyone else makes it out to be. There's a small smile on her face when she tells the girl she can go to her Aunt and then a mouth full of teeth when she tells her that she did a very good job talking. Everyone just needs a little reassurance from time to time. Everyone.

-----

"So?" Addison questions as they whole group is finally situated and packed up enough to send Mark with Ellie to the swings and Kennedy is slung across Addison's free arm. Still grappling from the emotional effects of her meltdown minutes ago with Mark she sent him away with the assurance that were in no way breaking up, even if that was all she could give him, it was something.

"She needs more therapy."

"That's your professional assessment? An hour later and that's what you've got for me?"

"We talked Addison, she needs to talk more. She said some disturbing things. I'm not a specialist but I do recommend that she start seeing one. At least for a little while." Violet shrugs and snatches her umbrella off the well worn path of caked mud and fallen leaves that have turned an ugly shade of brown in the cool autumn air.

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long will she need therapy?" Addison asks her hands finding her hips in a most intimidating way.

"You know better than to ask that." Violet starts and then is fixed with glare that could make a bat wish it was dead. "It takes time. It all depends, you know that. I know you know that so why are you asking?"

"No reason." She states resigning her body to the hard bench that she has been staring at longingly from their spot of the moist grass for what feels like eternity.

"Come on, we share. We're all kinds of close now. You're a little crazy, I'm a little crazy. It's a wonder we aren't best friends." Violet teases and takes her spot again. Her back begins to protest as soon as it touches the wood but she just grins wider and waits.

"It's just…I can't- I can't give her back all broken and in therapy. Pierce, I can't."

"You don't want him to think you have done a horrible job with his kids, that's ok Addison. He knows-"

"No he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything because I can't find him so just, how long Violet?"

"It varies." She pauses tilting her head and following Addison's stare to the playground where Mark is pushing Ellie dangerously high even for her taste. "You're doing a good job."

"Don't flatter me; I know I'm doing an awful job. It's fine, I'm coming to terms. I'm coming to terms with everything."

"Oh really?" Violet asks a little intrigued at how fast her co-worker can switch on and off.

"I'm trying."

"That's all that matters."

They wait a few more minutes and Violet goads herself to say something every time she catches Addison's darkened eyes but she waits. Waits until she is standing again, waits until the goodbyes are imminent and foreclosing. "Ellie said something and I think-"

"Just say it."

"She said that she heard you say you didn't want her anymore and I know...I know people get frustrated and your situation is less than desirable. I think half of us would have been crumpled into a ball in the corner and the other half of us would be borderline suicidal, but it would be beneficial for her to feel loved. She needs to feel secure in her surroundings so she can share and just be a kid again…she doesn't act like a kid very often-"

"I've noticed that." Addison replies and kicks herself for that damn conversation with Mark.

"She fidgets, she didn't used to do it that much." Violet remarks listing off the things she's noted as behavioral changes.

"I know."

"She doesn't-"

"Please stop. Just stop listing off the things I already know ok? I can't, I don't know how to fix any of that so I brought her to you and you tell me she needs more work."

"There isn't some sort of magical potion to fix everything. You can't do anything but give it your best and wait it out." She adds patting her shoulder before Addison steps back and adjusts her shirt with apologies and thanks for all of her help and then she is sent packing with her umbrella in hand as the light drizzle begins to come down and coat everything in a light film of water.

-----

"I just don't think we should make her go there anymore Addison. She obviously hates the place and they hate us for dragging her from room to room screaming. Let her stay back for once, it's not like she needs to see Derek for anything." Mark argues when they return from the park and begin to change out of the wet, cold clothing that clings to their bodies and dares Mark to drag her by the waist into a hot steaming shower. At least when she is pre/mid/post orgasm she isn't bickering with him. Well, most of the time.

"And who are we going to leave her with? Concierge? You think they'll send up a nanny that they have handy in the back room when occasions like this happen?" She growls before his hand wraps around her wrist and tugs her toward the bathroom. "What are you doing?" She demands pulling away and flinging her sweater behind her when he closes the door, clicking the lock shut.

He's out of ideas. He's out of ways to help so he's just going to give in and do what he always does, do what he does best, do what she wants. He finds her mouth during another jumbled sentence of gripes and loops one hand around her lower back and lets the other one toy with her wet hair. He works slowly tracing his tongue along her bottom lip before she allows him to proceed and then they dance around one another, slowly, melodically much unlike how he thought it would be. They haven't really kissed in weeks. Maybe months.

Stretching around next to her she has just enough reach to turn the faucet on and adjust the temperature as his hands begin to fumble with the button on her pants. He pulls them away painfully slow and trails wet chaste kisses up her chilled shaking legs before letting his hands fiddle with the edge of the white camisole. Pressing kisses to both hips he lets his fingers dip past the lace barrier and is pleased to find she is more than aroused.

She moans as his fingers slide along her, teasing at her entrance before he sets them to work in a lazy twisting pattern that makes her knees buckle within a few short minutes. Steadying her with one hand the other helps her get free from the white shirt and all other articles that get in the way of soapy showers. Standing before him naked for the first time in months and under the harsh florescent lighting she suddenly feels insecure and hesitantly folds her hands in front of her growing stomach. Before she can say anything he captures her attention with another kiss that lets her know that he isn't anything but pleased with what he sees. Feeling him harden under the damp jeans she lowers the zipper, deftly works her way through the maze of his belt and slides it all to the ground waiting for him.

He steps to the side and pulls his shirt overhead following her into the hot water. As soon as he sets both feet onto the warmed wet tile he feels her hand over him beginning to glide back and forth, not that he needs any help; it has been way, way too long without sex. Resting his back against the cascading heat he gives in to the feeling of how they were, of how well this works with them, of how no words are needed. And then he feels her tongue flit over the tip of his erection and almost loses it then and there. Instead he opens his eyes to find her standing again with a small smirk she hasn't worn in weeks.

He's intent to take it as slow as possible. To savor the feeling of her wet skin on his because he has no idea when it will happen again. Reaching around he grips the back of her thighs and pushes her against the tile. Not in need of encouragement from him she wraps her legs around his waist and begins to lift her hips impatiently when he hesitates. He kisses his way up and down her neck and lets his lips trickle along her jugular when he pushes into her and thrusts leisurely, lightly until she tries to set her own pace.

He resides himself to thinking that now isn't the time to drag it out and make her come until she screams because there are small children outside the doors that will probably come knocking at some point and it doesn't appear to be what she desires. He drives into her a little harder because he knows that what she wants is rough sex. Sex that propels her to the point of bliss and lets her topple over gasping, not sex that teases her relentlessly, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy only to shy away from it repeatedly.

She wants scratches, bite marks, and aching legs that will remind her of what she did tomorrow. She wants to feel. Allowing herself to arch back against him she senses his fingers as they find her clit and swirl with intensity until she is breathless and biting down on her lip to keep from moaning too loudly. She feels herself grow close, feels herself tighten around him and with one final thrust they both give in chests heaving, eyes closed giving way to the fireworks display behind the blackness, mouths opened with unspoken words, and limbs shaking in pleasure.

Letting her down gently he removes himself from her moist throbbing skin and reaches for the shampoo intent on actually making this a worthwhile cleansing. They perfect the rest of the shower without speaking and fighting for the water before it turns cold and they are forced back out into the real world.

-----

Dressed, brushed, prepped and cleansed Addison resumes her fight with Mark about going to the hospital. It isn't a choice anymore, it's an obligation. It's Derek. It was never an option, it was never a competition or whatever Mark feels he is so unworthy about. She doesn't have the patience to try and figure out his inner workings. "Thirty minutes Mark. We'll go in, see Derek and get out." Honestly the thought of being alone with Derek is intimidating and she doesn't want another opportunity for him to force doubts into her head.

"I don't think it's a good idea." He looks over to the small girl who is beaming at some sci-fi show she is too young for and had Addison any presence of mind lately wouldn't allow her to see it.

"I have to go." She states beginning to pace the room.

"Then go."

"Oh, and what? Leave you here alone with them?" She gawks slipping into the heels she had set by the door and reaching for her wool coat that she hasn't needed since she moved from this hell hole.

"I've been alone with them before Addison. It's nothing new. I can handle it and for you to suggest otherwise-"

She gulps back the knot in her throat and lets her fingers dig into the pockets of the coat finding something shaped like chapstick. "I don't…never mind. Fine, you think you can do it, then fine…just don't kill them. I'll be back."

"Ok. We'll be good and when you get back we'll all go get some dinner and order a movie or something. Then after…" He nods toward Ellie giggling at the alien form on the screen, "…that goes to sleep we can talk. We…need to talk." He feels like a broken record, feels like a CD skipping over the same verse. Every time he says it her face falls a little more and tonight is no exception. She lets her eyes trail to the plush carpeting before his feet find a way to her and he clasps his arms around her in what would be a hug provided she was reciprocating. Now it's just borderline sexual harassment.

"Don't touch me." She states pushing back against him and reaching for her purse on the table adjacent to her.

"Now we're back to that? Jesus Christ Addison, where do you get off? I can only touch you when you want to…" He drops his voice for the little ears in the room because so frequently he finds himself forgetting and she never notices anyway. "…come. When you are in need?"

Instead of answering and trying to explain that she can't bear to be touched in any form of a comforting manner because it literally makes her skin crawl she finds her way to the door and lets it slam hard against its frame with the knowledge that Mark shouldn't be trusted to baby-sit.

-----

"I didn't figure you'd show up today." Derek mocks when Addison sheds her coat and takes a seat next to him.

"I had things to do." She deadpans and turns her attention toward the chart that was abandoned on the side table.

"You can read it if you want to, I made Bailey leave it. I wanted to make sure everything went how they said it went."

Flipping through she notes all of the little things, his medications, the nurse's scribbles and how long the whole procedure took. "Looks good."

"Not bad for a car wreck."

"You aren't on very much medication, aren't you in pain?" She asks wishing he was asleep half the time and groggy the other half.

"Sometimes you have to hurt to know you're alive Addison." He remarks and then attempts to sit up on his own. She moves, instinctively to help and finds her hand on his arm before pulling back hastily.

"I don't feel anything." She admits and then turns away embarrassed from her flare-up. She finds it funny how easily she can be fighting with Derek one day and the next minute be having meaningful conversation. They have that sort of relationship where things jump and fit into place without questioning. Too many years together. She only wishes Mark was that easy.

"It goes away." He remarks watching her face steady in the dim light.

"Should have gone away by now. It's been two months Derek and I…I feel worse than the day it happened."

He knows, he's been there and if that's the reason for the sudden outburst then he isn't going to shrug it off. "The denial is gone."

"I wasn't in denial."

"Figuratively speaking. You let yourself pretend, let yourself get busy with the rest of the world and then one day it catches up with you. Grabs you around the throat and demands that you acknowledge her death. It hurts worse because you are actually coming to terms with it. Moving on…it…there's nothing like losing a family member." He reaches for her hand, silently caressing the soft flesh as her breath audibly hitches and the tears start in again.

"I've made such a mess." She aches out swiping at her face with her free hand and drying the wetness on the fabric of her gray skirt.

"I've made a mess. Look at me." He smiles pointing to his bandaged head and encased leg.

She coughs out a small laugh and reasserts her posture. "I meant of life but yeah…you don't look so good yourself."

"I'm happy, I'm grateful to finally be having children with you." He starts.

"Derek-"

"Let me finish, please. Just shut up for once." He laughs because he can finally say things like that without having the repercussions come back to haunt him.

"I'm happy that we are having children and being laid up in a hospital bed with nothing on and no ability to move lends oneself to a lot of thinking…so I've been thinking. I'm happy it's you. I always wanted children with you and I know I have been trying to get back together with you and I love you, now don't freak out and run away just yet ok?" He asks watching her hands fidget with the cup on the bedside table. "I love you and I will probably love you for the rest of my life and this kid thing? Only gonna make me love you more but if you don't want us together than I guess I have to respect that."

"I would appreciate that." Setting the cup down she runs her fingers over the rim in the reminder that life is an endless cycle, that things come full circle and that they don't always have to make the most sense.

"But if there's even the slightest chance that you do want me, want us…all together you have to promise to tell me."

"I want Mark." She blurts out and then bites down hard on the side of her cheek waiting for a response. It isn't any of his business and he certainly has no claim signing off on either one but she feels like she needs to make the one thing she knows for certain clear.

"Maybe you want Mark right now but Addison- Mark is just Mark, he's not some amazing man who will turn into everything you thought he could be. He's just…not and I, as selfish and hypocritical as it sounds, hate watching you get hurt still."

It wouldn't be logical to say that Mark won't ever hurt her the way he did, because he very well may and it wouldn't be her place to say that Mark is a better man than he will ever be because it's not true. When Derek was a good husband he was an amazing man and she will not ever deny that. But in the same turn she can't deny that he racked up more emotional turmoil in her world then any other ten people combined have been able to manage. She doesn't know who she is with him anymore; she doesn't know where she stands. When she sees Derek all she feels is sin, guilt and completely lost and that's not going away anytime soon. "I want Mark."

"Ok." He pauses shifting every so slightly and grimacing in the process. "I want you to stay. Even is we aren't together, even if we have to evolve and morph into the poster children for divorced couples with children."

"Naomi and Sam have that title." She smiles.

"Well, we'll steal it then, alright? I know you love a stiff competition."

"Ok."

"So you'll stay?"

-----