A/N: Apologies for generally just being sucky at updating this. I'd insert my million excuses here but I'm sure you'd all rather read. Thanks to Hannah for taking time out of her wacky schedule to read through and for all of the amazing comments last time. You guys really keep this going for me. Enjoy--
When everything starts to feel the same
And everyone around you seems to change
You went along with me when things weren't right
And when the morning slowly fades to night
When all you have just falls apart
And nothing seems to work out right
And you're trying
You're still alright
- Adam Merrin, "Still Alright"
"Addison, wait!" Naomi screams as her friend retreats from the hospital room that once held a very prominent surgeon.
She slams her heel into the ground and waits for a second, just long enough, and then turns. "Naomi, leave me alone."
"Addison-"
"I don't need you to protect me from anything. I don't need you for anything right now, okay?" She raises her eyebrows daringly.
Naomi doesn't answer. She crosses the barrier of personal space and wraps her arms around the taller woman tightly. Addison gasps shudders and pushes back immediately but Naomi doesn't move and refuses to loosen her grip. For her part, Addison keeps the tears at bay and waits it out silently before begging, "Please let go of me."
"If I let go you're going to run."
"Maybe."
"Addie, I'm just, you don't deserve this-"
She chuckles because she tends to laugh sometimes when her life seems so awful that it can not actually be happening. This is just so her life, it's unreal. "Ah, but I do. I really, really do."
"You don't. No one does…I'm so sorry, I know that sounds stupid but…I am, sorry." She finally steps back but maintains a firm grip on both of her best friend's hands, clinging for everything; anything.
She grins and cocks her head to the side, "Yeah, I'm sorry too." She swings their hands from side to side when the nurses begin to look on too intently, "You know…if we keep this up, I bet we're 'together' by lunch."
Naomi shakes her head and pouts, "If you want-"
"I can't do this. Not right now and certainly not here. I need to go pick up Der…I need to go to the airport." She swallows when her voice gets to thick and her throat constricts.
"I'm coming. Let me go grab my purse and tell Sam and Violet."
"You don't need to come Naomi, I can do this. They might not like me but I'm sure we can stand a car ride together and I don't want them crammed into the back of one of the world's slowest moving taxis."
"I want to come." She nods and disappears momentarily as Richard closes in on Addison from the doorway.
"Addison…" He starts and then drops off pulling her into another unwelcome hug. The touching is still highly uncalled for and uncomfortable for her and she almost wishes that she was sedated.
"Richard, I can't breathe." She gasps trying to wriggle free.
"Right, sorry." He claps a hand to her shoulder and shakes his head. "If you need anything-"
"You live in your office; I know where to find you."
"Yes, well I mean it. Say the word Addison and it's yours."
Apparently it's something like clicking her ruby red slippers but she never gets home. She doesn't have a home anymore because home isn't a place, it's a sense of belonging and hers is completely gone. "Will do."
"Take it easy." He warns and nods toward her stomach knowingly.
"Scout's honor." She waves him off and taps her heel into the glowing tile trying not to think. If she focuses on the things around her this will be easier. This can be done. It can be managed and she is determined not to make a fool out of herself this go around. Practice makes perfect and Addison Montgomery doesn't need to learn lessons more than once.
She meets the somber looking group in baggage claim because she's always found it easier to meet people there then try and track them down as they scurry from their gates in search of bathrooms and nutrition. None of them look prepared. None of them look ready and none of them look at her.
"Hi, I'm Naomi Bennett, one of Addison's friends from California."
"Right." Derek's mother Susan nods. She extends her hand carefully and offers a light handshake. Her shoulders are covered with a heavy black coat and she stands proudly dark brown hair unaffected by the possibly graying effects of having five children and millions of grandchildren.
"Hi, I'm Nancy…oh and my husband Kyle and our daughter Nicole." The woman with short brown hair smiles warmly and shoves her four year old forward toward the stranger. She begins to point left to right and rattles off, "That is my sister Kathleen, her husband Joshua and their children- Jacob, Haley, Evan, Rachel and Whitney. Then we have another sister Margaret- call her Maggie and her husband Jack, then Alisa, Nathan and the baby is Brittney. And last but not least we have Sandra and Dan and their kids Michael, Colton, Leila and Kelsey." She finishes out of air nervously and Kyle tugs her back by the sleeve of her coat.
Naomi grins and looks to Addison who is staring at the ground, "Well nice to meet all…of you." She waves knowing she's already forgotten all of the children's names but has tried to commit the adults to memory.
"We should probably do the whole rental car thing. Nancy you take Mom." Kathleen orders as her children stand in a uniform group. It is clear who the leader of the group is and Naomi determines her to be the eldest anyway as her children push their towering height over their parents. She stares down Addison before breaking away from the noisy children who all look at the conveyor belt expectantly.
"Kathleen-" Addison states softly looking back at the crowd.
"Jesus Addie, I leave for two days and you kill him?"
"I didn't…I-"
"I'm kidding Addison. I know, I understand. He had-I had a feeling." Kathleen reaches over and hugs her loosely.
"How's Mom?" Addison asks looking over her shoulder.
"She's upset. We're all upset...I feel like I'm in a daze…She'll be okay though."
She pensively chews on her lip before responding, "Yeah."
"How are you holding up?"
"I'm okay."
"I'm not going to find you soaking in the rain in front of the hospital again am I?" She scratches at the tight hold of her hair tie and smoothes down the fraying hairs that have been tugged on by various nieces and nephews during the flight. She's happy her children are older (the youngest two at age nine), even if they do test her resilience every day.
"No."
"Alright, let's get this underway," She pauses and drops her voice, "Did you and Derek ever make arrangements anywhere before…in New York?"
"No." Addison squeaks trying to breathe. Irresponsible would be an understatement but they were busy and young.
"Ok then. Well let's go get settled in at a hotel and then go from there. The kids need to be fed soon anyway and we haven't told the younger ones why we are here so they think we're on vacation away from school and…I kind of need to keep that charade up." Kathleen excuses herself and makes her way back to the luggage that has been piled on metal carts during her conversation with her ex-sister in-law.
"Yeah." Addison says softly to herself and watches her growing ex-family bumble around the area. Watches the older kids helping the younger kids, see the toddlers clinging to legs and the lone remaining infant peacefully sleeping through everything.
She saw Pierce yesterday. Saw him long enough to arrange that Elianna would stay with him while he was here and that they would meet for dinner tonight to work something out. While she's happy for the break away from both children, now watching her nieces and nephews bounce around she kind of misses the pouting, whining five year old and always screaming infant. So far no one has noticed the slight curve of her stomach, and though she is well hidden by her waist length navy wool coat, she knows it is only a matter of time before they figure it out and she mostly just wishes she had the two redheads to distract her from life and all of the horrible feelings bubbling under the surface.
"Addie, where's a good hotel for all of us?" Maggie yells above the mounting noise.
"You guys can just follow me if you want." She replies and then tags along the group with Naomi at her side as the adults wait in line and she is surrounded by kids.
"Hey Aunt Addison, guess what?" Evan asks joyfully pushing up his thick glasses on his nose.
"What?"
"I got second place at the science fair this year for my solar system."
"That's very good."
"That's nothing!" Alisa screeches, "I got first place at my last gymnastics meet. You should have seen it Aunt Addie..."
She listens as the very competitive kids try to outrank each other with piano recitals and karate competitions and finally it is Kathleen's daughter, the oldest in the whole bunch at eighteen (and who was the flower girl in her and Derek's marriage ceremony), who has until this moment been oddly quiet speaking, "I wish you were still around." She whispers softly and then grips her Aunt when she starts to cry.
"Haley…I…I'm sorry." She murmurs knowing how close Derek and she were.
"Ha-ley's crying, Ha-ley's crying!" Evan and Jacob tease.
"Hey you two knock it off. There's going to be a lot more crying so you better get used to it." Naomi urges.
"Who are you?" Jacob asks poking his twin brother in the side.
"My name is Naomi and I am a friend of your Aunt's."
"You can't tell us what to do." Evan affirms.
"Yeah, but I can." Joshua asserts, dragging his children away apologizing and patting his eldest on the back as Addison rocks on her heels holding her tightly.
"It'll be okay." Addison tells her niece's brown wavy hair that is pulled into a messy bun and probably hasn't seen a brush in days. Apparently this is the new style, or so she was informed last time the two were out shopping. Her hair only looks like that after surgery or before bed and she can't understand it but it works for the girl anyway.
She's always been closer with Derek's family than her own, often times babysitting various children when parents needed breaks and was officially named the best present giver by every single wide eyed child on Christmas mornings from years past. And this is the part she misses the most. The unity and crazy chaotic air that circulates when they all get together. And while it's a horrible excuse for a reunion, Addison would be lying if she said she wasn't at least a little relieved to see them all here…even if they don't feel the same way about seeing her.
"I miss him already." Haley replies and steps back, wiping the smudged black eyeliner from her cheeks.
"I know me too." Addison nods, "How about later, after the little ones are asleep, you and I do something. A movie, junk food, girl's night. Naomi here does a mean pedicure and maybe we could invite Leila, Kelsey and Whitney too. I bet everyone needs a break."
"Yeah, okay." She sniffles and then smiles lightly, "I'd like that, you're the best Aunt Addison."
She shrugs and grins, "Well, I try."
Mark spent the night in Joe's drinking only to realize that come morning, he really didn't want to be present in the room full of terrified people to witness the dying of a man that was essentially his brother. No, instead he managed to bed some blonde nurse with young, perky breasts that he barely remembers and momentarily forget that his life was falling apart.
He offered no apologies slipping from her bed in the early morning hours to return to the hotel. Gathered belongings in hand he called a cab and sat silent waiting in the lobby hoping against all logic for a glimpse of Addison's flaming hair. He hadn't meant to hurt her. It was not an intentional move; it was a frustrated, agonizing decision that has effectively ruined what he thought was once so wonderful about his life.
He spent weeks tortured after she left for California, he packed up his things and sought out a new job just to be closer and what has it gotten him? Right back where he started. Stranded in Seattle, no Derek, no Addison and a nameless bedmate somewhere in the greater downtown area. He peels the cuticle on his left pointer finger watching the rain outside trying to convince himself that this is not running away. This is not leaving to escape the problem.
This is giving Addison what she wanted.
He refuses to stick around for the services anyway. There will be no eulogies out of his mouth, no well wishes into his ears and no one clasping his shoulder as he tries not to cling to Addison. He's not entirely sure he would go even if the whole Meredith thing didn't happen. He may have gone for her, to be her support system, but not out of his own volition. Funerals aren't his scene. Bars in the airport, however, very much are. He ponders the flashing board above his head as he stands in line. There has got to be somewhere to go where everything won't hurt this much. There simply has to be a town or a place or hell, even a country that will not constantly remind him of his dead best friend. Dead best friend, he thinks the words but they don't register…not yet.
He checks his watch and picks. Buying the ticket takes all of ten minutes and then he is off to find his favorite Sea-Tac restaurant for a stiff drink and maybe something to quell his gurgling stomach. When he sits, drink in hands, he can finally understand her will to stay silent. He comprehends the need to shut everyone out, the desire to curl into a tiny ball and stare at the wall for hours on end. It doesn't solve anything but then again nothing does so in some weird way all of this is helping him understand the love of his life a little better. And there is nothing else to gain from it. Nothing but pain and a sense of loss because things without Derek in the world are not right and he doesn't know how he'll ever deal with that.
As things begin to bustle around him all he sees is the amber colored liquid slowly disappearing from the glass in front of him and his shaking hand. It hasn't really sunk in. There's the tightness in his chest and an aching in the pit of his stomach but he knows he's not dealing yet and he knows it will hit him like a ton of bricks. He drains the alcohol, clears his throat out and stands strongly without making eye contact with any of the women at the bar.
He couldn't care less anymore.
"Nice place." Naomi states throwing her purse onto the couch of Addison's hotel room. The room, she now notices, though she shouldn't be surprised is devoid of all things relating to Mark. All but one- an old grey t-shirt is clinging the edge of the bed and the way Addison skims her hands over the edges as she walks by is not lost on her friend. "Addie-"
"Don't."
"He was just being Mark." Naomi defends tiredly.
Addison closes her eyes and tries to will away whatever thoughts of women and Mark flash before her eyes, "I can't believe he left."
"You told him-"
"I know what I told him." She says coldly, hands running over the soft fabric again. For once it would be nice if Mark didn't obey her wishes, if he stuck around and got what he wanted and fought for her a little harder, hard enough to push past the rough exterior she keeps up. She scoops it up into her lap and fall gracelessly to the bed burying her head in his lingering scent.
"Maybe you shouldn't have told him to go. You guys could have worked things through." Naomi stays away, she thinks it's for the best, and leans up against the back of the couch facing the rapidly deteriorating redhead.
"It's just that there's always something wrong with us…and we never get to talk…and I'm tired Nae, I'm so tired."
"I know."
"I just want to sleep." Her face finally crumples when her nose adjusts to the smell of the Yankees tee and she can no longer smell the man she misses.
"You could take a nap before your dinner tonight." Naomi offers, still keeping her distance and watching carefully. She sent Sam and Violet to check in here whenever they were ready but was steadfast in staying with Addison for awhile. She will not be responsible for her friend getting stuck in another hospital bed because she doesn't think she can take any more. Mentally, emotionally, physically and Naomi wouldn't know what to do with her if she lost Derek's children over something so seemingly easy to control. Seemingly because in this state everything is hard. It's effort to breath and Naomi understands, so that's why she's taking charge.
"No, I want to sleep Nae. Like actually sleep." Her voice cracks but she presses on, "I want to dream about something other than death and not have to have Mark crushing me to get comfortable. I want to drift off for more than two hours and not wake up all antsy and already drained before the day can begin." It's about more than sleep for her, it's about healing, she wants to begin but she doesn't know where they steps are anymore. The tears fall and she feels stupid and a little childish for crying over something as silly as wanting sleep but she thinks, in this parallel universe, where nothing ever goes right that maybe it's acceptable.
Naomi watches her lie down, not bothering to kick off her shoes, and curls into a ball around the team shirt still clutched and twisted through her hands. She contemplates calling Mark and telling him to get his bitch ass back here to help but it wouldn't do any good. Bringing him back now would allow them to tear each other to shreds. "I know." She whispers feeling very pedestrian and out of place in the large almost vacant room. Slowly she toes out of her flats and finds a comfortable spot on the bed facing Addison. She reaches out gently, careful to take her time, in case her friend wants to jump back and begins to caress the soft skin on the back of her hand. It's not a lot but it's about all she can do.
Through watery eyes Addison conveys her deepest, darkest wish, however inappropriate, "I just need something good to happen. I need something good…to happen here."
Naomi opens her mouth to speak but shuts it just as quickly because it doesn't matter what she says back. Nothing changes the feel of desperation in Addison's voice, nothing will make her smile and most of all nothing she says will be of any comfort. Saying things like, "Give it time." or "It'll happen sweetie." seem borderline offensive so she keeps her mouth shut and traces little circles over her best friend's knuckles.
Addison cries it out, tells herself that it will feel better when she's done when she knows that it will feel worse. Her throat will ache and scratch, her eyes will try and hide behind puffy little pillows of remorse and her head will pound like all of the fluid has been drained from it. She tells herself that she needs to pull it together and keep things in check but if there was ever a person she felt comfortable with besides Mark it's Naomi. The relationship is different but it's still comforting to have her one foot away, maintaining a minimal contact state and offering every ounce of support she can give even though she is certainly hurting as well. "Maybe I'd feel better if you would cry with me." Addison sniffles.
"Oh." Naomi was not expecting that. She figured she'd save it all up and drench Sam's shoulder tonight when he finally drug her into bed. She breathes deep and tries to let the emotions overwhelm her. When it doesn't work she resorts to memories of Derek and as soon as the geeky, afro-headed, glasses wearing freak comes to mind she sobs so loudly that she jumps in surprise. "Happy?" She smiles weakly.
"Not in months." She buries her head in Mark's shirt again and covers her bubbling eyes with the thin layers of gray. She hates the way the world changes. The way it can feel so right, the way it feels like progress is being made but then something shifts and all of the game pieces are tossed by the wayside. Left to tumble through the air and scatter into the uninviting flooring. They bounce when they land and roll when they contact and when they finally get put back in place even the smallest jostle could send them all flying over the edge. She hates change. She wants a break.
"We will be happy. I promise." Naomi mutters and wipes her nose on her bare forearm. Thoroughly disgusted with herself she decides to stop the waterworks. "Imagine if someone from the hospital walked in now…" She grins attempting a stab at Addison's earlier joke.
"I don't care." Outside the walls of the hospital, away from peeking eyes and burning lips it doesn't really matter if she is falling apart and needing her best friend to rub her hand as she tries to control her breathing. She clenches her fists and drags in a shaky breath, "I miss him so much."
Derek? Mark? Both? Naomi doesn't know and she's not asking. "Me too."
Somehow she pulled it together. Got up off the bed after a little and much needed nap and put herself back together in time to steer Naomi out the door and greet Pierce and Elianna in the lobby. After deciding upon a kid friendly restaurant downtown she ushered them both into the back of her rental car and they arrived thirty minutes later after a near silent ride, the only noise being the urgent chorusing of Ellie in the back singing along to whatever song she thought she knew.
They are seated near a window, that's only purpose it seems is to occupy Addison until they can order. Pierce waits until the salads arrive and then clears his throat and hesitantly states, "I heard about Derek…I'm, well…you know."
"Yes. Me too." She says softly with a light smile.
"Mark seems like a nice guy though." He remarks remembering all the stories about the man Ellie has been so intent on telling him about. From how he gives good piggyback rides to how he is bad at brushing her hair but he still tries.
"Yeah." She cautiously picks up her fork and begins to pick at her greens a little more. She knows she should eat. She knows it's imperative to the development of her children but she also knows she feels like throwing up every other ten minutes still (whether it is the unreliable morning sickness of just the weight of the days, she isn't sure) and that she isn't hungry in the slightest.
"Addie!" Ellie nearly shouts and many patrons of the establishment turn their heads only proving that this was not as child appropriate as Addison thought it to be. Strike fifty.
"Ellie." She acknowledges and gives up on the fork. There's no point.
"Where's Mark?" She purses her lips seriously and then busies herself with straw that sits in the glass of milk before her.
Addison swallows hard, noting the obvious change in the girl's manner. It's no wonder that having someone who loves you around can markedly improve things; she only regrets not doing a better job one hundred and ten percent of the time. "He had some things to do."
"I like him a bunch even though he doesn't like to color with me." She stammers on and on about all the fun moments she had with the muscular man; bubbles and bounces her hair all through out the dinner until Addison feels like screaming at the top of her lungs.
"Dessert?" Pierce questions and Ellie immediately nods furiously and pouts.
"I'm a good girl. Tell Daddy, Addie. Tell him."
"You're a very good girl…and I think I am going to go take a walk." She pulls the cloth napkin from her lap, feeling strangely overwhelmed by the need for fresh air overpowering her.
"Addison?" Pierce questions as she stands wobbly onto her tall stilettos.
"I just need some air. You guys get dessert and I'll meet you outside when you're done, okay?" She smoothes the top of Ellie's head and places a lingering kiss to the fuzzy hairs before dashing through the front doors and gasping in the sweet scent of cold rain and pavement.
Her heels slouch into the cracks on the sidewalk as she paces the storefronts. She could leave and he'd call at some point to check on her but that would be an old Addison move so she stays. Remains strong like she was taught all those years ago with her chest tight and her head held high as people watch her little show. Undoubtedly, she is entertaining. Her black slacks slapping her ankles with every movement, her hair wet starting to droop from the weight and her gold bracelet dangling and glimmering in the early Seattle evening light. Yes the beginning of a breakdown by a middle-aged woman in the middle of a busy street is highly compelling.
Three minutes into her calmed tirade she sees Pierce literally dragging his daughter out of the building. When he reaches her Elianna has completely wound herself up and is bumbling with fresh tears threatening to stream down her already red and wet face. "Addie!" She shouts angrily wrenching her hand from her father's grasp and wrapping herself around the redhead's legs.
"She wanted dessert and I told her we could get it later." He explains, looking at the ground as people begin to stare.
"Oh, I didn't mean for you guys to rush. We can go get something now- if you want."
"Yeah." Ellie sniffles, "I was good!" She stamps her feet into the ground and Pierce shakes his head thoroughly embarrassed.
"Yes you were…until now." Addison acknowledges patting her head.
"Maybe we should head back to the hotel. She needs to sleep and I'm sure room service ice cream is just as good as any in this town."
"Sure." She grins, somehow happy that Ellie will still turn to her, even if it is just because she's angry. In some weird way it makes her Aunt feel like less of a failure.
"Ellie go get your things together." Addison instructs as they step foot back into her hotel room. She pushes the little girl (with a fresh vanilla ice cream cone half gone from some drive through) into the adjoining space before turning back to Pierce. He's standing cross-armed against the door. "Pierce, I know it's a lot to ask but I…I would like to keep in touch this time. I know I was a less than desirable god mother before but- I'm sorry and I want to know my nieces. I really, really would like to be in their lives and I could help you too- or I could try."
He sighs and looks down at the plush carpet under his brown loafers, "I never wanted kids."
"What?" Addison shakes her head knowing that she just signed up for a conversation she'd really rather not be having with her brother in-law.
"I never wanted kids. I don't even like them okay? And I work ninety hours a week- or at least I did. I'm a lawyer, a courtroom brawler or a paper shuffler and the spawn of Satan as some like to put it- not a father…but I loved her…I loved her so much." His angry tone rises and he sets his jaw refusing to cry in another's presence.
"Okay."
"No! Not okay, don't you get it? Are you that dense?"
"Pierce-"
"I couldn't tell her no and she wanted kids. Wanted four, four! Why do you think there's such a huge gap in between my children?" He pushes and at this point it's more Addison looking bewildered and perplexed while Pierce talks to himself.
"I don't know." And honestly she doesn't think it matters.
"We separated when Ellie was two and it was hell without her so I went back on my knees and prayed to God she would take me. I decided right then and there that if she'd have me, I'd give her twenty kids. Look at where that got me!" He slouches against the door, back resting in the grooved wood.
Addison nods.
"I don't like them- I love my own, I really do and I wouldn't trade those girls for…anything," he swallows heavily and they both know who he is speaking of, "but that doesn't make me a good father. That doesn't mean that I won't snap at them when I am angry and trying to work, and I won't be able to help them with their homework because I'll be busy trying to keep them clothed and I won't ever do any of it right…not like she would have wanted."
"You'll do it in your own way." Addison affirms, knowing that she'll be doing the same, "And maybe she would have done things differently- she was very bossy and demanding- but you'll do your best and no one will hold it against you for not making cookies or knowing how many pictures the refrigerator magnets can hold before everything will fall down."
"Addie! I'm done." Ellie proclaims proudly dragging her small purple suitcase on its wheels into the main room.
"Nice job pumpkin." Pierce nods, "Why don't you go make the bed…and then…count to one hundred or something."
"Why? I can count higher Dad." She asserts balancing on her tip toes.
"I'm sure you can, now scoot." She saunters from the room slowly, looking over her shoulder at the pair.
"I didn't even know she could to one hundred." He mutters, under his breath but still very audible and now suddenly calmed.
"She's pretty smart- I didn't know that either but we do now." she twists her hands together and then buries her hands in the pockets of her coat, "When are they releasing Kennedy?"
"Tomorrow morning." He answers instantly.
"See you knew that."
"Don't patronize me." He spouts uncontrollably, "Sorry."
"It's okay." Addison shuffles on her heels, pressing the spiky ends into the firm carpet and tapping as they stall in the moment.
"Done!" She states jovially returning to her father's side. No one mentions that there is no way it's been one hundred yet but instead they all stare back at each other intently. "Daddy?"
"Yeah."
"What are we doing?" She looks up, ice cream smudged to the bottom of her lip and dried on her chin.
"Leaving." He leads his daughter into the hallway before turning back almost wistfully, "I can't but think that if you had been a responsible doctor and picked up your damn phone or pager just once then this whole mess wouldn't have happened." He shakes his head as Ellie pulls on his hand trying to get him to move on, "I can't believe this happened."
Mark fumbles with his keys, drunkenly sorting through the maze of silver edges and gleaming sides. Finally settling on the appropriate one he tries to slip it into the lock. Once, twice, three times and then he picks a new key. Ten minutes later he stumbles into the box filled foyer of his own house in Santa Monica. He hasn't stepped foot in it since retrieving clothes for Addison's house months ago. His eyes blur over as he looks at the cardboard that encases the total sum of his past.
His old baseball mitt that he would use when he played with Derek in the backyard is about thirty inches from him. The high school football from his championship game where Derek sat in the band stands and played the saxophone in approval is in there as well. There are other things that he can't recollect in his dizzy haze. Maybe some old books, namely the ones Addison gave him years ago when she said he should broaden his interests. Random articles of clothing that possess no worth down here- things like coats, scarves, the black gloves he stole from Derek's hospital office in New York one night when he forgot his and knew his friend wasn't leaving the premises and one very old pair of rain boots.
Mark's not one to keep traditionally sentimental things. There are a few pictures - not in frames or photo albums - scattered in piles here and there but he keeps things. Most items in his life are dispensable. He can throw them away and buy the exact same item the next day or something better but he has the box. One box of crap no one else will ever see. It usually lies hidden behind piles of old running shoes in the back of closets. There's not much to it; there aren't a lot of events that he wants to remember but the football is in there like some old cliché and the key to his old apartment in New York (and the little Yankee's onesie which he will never cop to owning still) got thrown in there when he sublet the place, just in case, but more for all the memories made.
He glares at the black block print of sharpie etching on said box and kicks it wildly with his foot. Objects are nothing without the people who make them; people who gave them their meaning. His shoe hits the top edge of the box and it barely moves. Frustrated he winds up again to beat the living shit out of the thing because at the moment it is sounding like the best plan he's had in years but when his foot misses this time he merely gives up and crumples into the ground, slamming his head back against the hallway wall.
The pain echoes through the empty house and his eyes brim with angry, captive tears. He opens his mouth to curse the world and then shuts it just as quickly. He doesn't bother rubbing the aching bump forming under his skull. It's numb.
It's all numbed.
His eyes slide closed but he won't sleep. He'll sit all night but it won't be restful. His back will scream in protest but the complaints won't register with his mind. Instead he'll sit. Sit for days, staring at a stupid box that remains unopened.
He'll leave to get more beer and vodka steering clear of the smooth scotch he used to share with Derek because it hurts too much. He'll curl up in the sleeping bag lying on the dining room floor and stare out the sliding glass door at the roaring ocean for countless hours. He'll miss the funeral, he won't pick up his phone and he'll drink in an attempt to get away. And the more he sits, now bouncing the back of his skull against the very much dented wall, the more it sounds like a good idea. He'll drink to forget; to remember.
He'll drink it all away.
When Pierce leaves, Addison feel tears stinging the corner of her eyes. It's nothing new, patients blaming doctors because someone has to be blamed but this was personal and it didn't need to be said out loud. She was there, she was already at the hospital…neglectfully ignoring her pager but still there and- well she doesn't want to think about it so instead she straightens the comforter on the bed and orders popcorn and ice cream for the girls' night before calling Naomi and Violet up to distract her.
When the phone clicks down the room is engulfed in a deafening silence. Just Addison and her thoughts and frankly there's nothing more frightening at present. She plays with her nails and hopes that Violet at least manages to just hop in the elevator and come up but each separate call was met with no response and she knows better than to hope that they will magically appear. Three minutes slowly turn into five and five blend cohesively into twenty. Her fingers trace the perfected stitching on the blanket by her feet and she times her breaths trying to take the therapist's advice and just envision something better. Push past the road block and breathe. She can survive.
At the thirty minute mark she finally catches a break in the form of room service and again calls everyone to please come save her from herself. Kathleen tells her that the kids have already passed out because of the time difference and she sighs heavily dialing again and getting no response out of either co-worker. Twenty minutes later, melting ice cream in various dishes and cold stale popcorn waiting she finally gets a phone call from Sam saying that Naomi feel asleep over forty minutes ago and that he's afraid to wake her after the day they all had. His tone is morose and Addison is well aware that it would be selfish to impose herself upon them in quest of not being left in an empty room that seems threatening large without other people running around.
And on the other hand there's no way she's calling Violet to hang out so she scrolls through her phonebook on the blackberry next to herself almost daring the number 2 button to be held down but she thinks better of it and tosses the electronic device across the bed letting it land with a soft thud. She stands and turns toward the disorganized closet. The least she can do is some much needed house cleaning. Maybe she'll even get around to paying her bills for the house she no longer lives in; the life she no longer leads.
She has to do something.
In the passing days, as Kathleen and Nancy win the battle against Susan, and Derek's body is lowered into the ground in Seattle she finds herself oddly quiet again. Nothing feels important enough to warrant a real response so she nods a lot and grins sometimes and it makes people feel better when she feels worse with every ticking second. The day of the service her eyes dart wildly around the overcast sky looking for a plane or a familiar body in a black suit but he never comes.
She watches the rain pour from the ugly clouds that completely cover everything. A dark little shell resembling a domed snow globe with showers instead of fake snow, crying people across a field of well manicured grass instead of plastic ice skaters zooming across an ice rink. She cries with the rest of them, takes the opportunity to say nothing and avoids all meaningful glances and compassionate hugs.
And when everyone leaves she takes a long look at Meredith hunched over on her knees on the green blades with Izzie at her side and then drives away without a word to the tiny woman. There's nothing she can say to help anyway. She feels oddly free for the first time in months as the tires catch and peel out and there's a part of her brain that can't help but think she did this to herself. Pushed everyone away and now her victory feels hollow and worthless.
She ambles thoughtlessly along the highway, signals appropriately without thinking, manages the windshield wipers when the little drops turn into violent gusting streaks and arrives back at the empty hotel room and is in her bed around the gray t-shirt before she can understand what's going on. She's thankful that Derek's family is so immersed in themselves, knowing she can just get some time now, after the chaotic swirl of children asking questions and going along for the sake of going along. Her phone trills in the background and she heaves herself from the bed fully prepared to have some form of conversation but her hand hits the wrong button and it's transferred to voicemail.
The voicemail she hasn't touched in months because she's been busy chasing kids and most people are smart enough to just call her again. She cuddles back into bed (this time taking the opportunity to kick out of her heels and remove the black cardigan that covers the chosen dark dress of the day) and turns on speakerphone as she holds down the 1 key. Voices snap up in a tango of memories- her missed doctor's appointment yesterday, Kathleen telling her their flight was delayed earlier in the week, Sam, Naomi, Naomi again, Naomi one more time and then Dell. She swipes at the dignified delete button within two seconds of hearing who it is. The message isn't really important. More Naomi, Savvy a few days back (who she literally ran from when she saw her today- as well as everyone else from her old life because she had no desire to explain the monumental proportions of fail that are consuming her at present), a few more unrelated work calls, Ellie's school telling her that the girl has been missing for a few days and then Mark's voice comes on.
His angry tone telling her that she should pick up her damn phone once in awhile so he can know where she is. It sounds possessive but she knows he was genuinely worried; he has been the entire time. He was certainly right when he said she should delete them all before listening. There are choice swear words, shouts and a screaming Kennedy in the background. She pushes through them but doesn't delete because she has no idea if she'll ever hear from him again.
More calls from Ellie's school about her blasé and at times violent attitude towards life, more friends calling to check in, a purposely avoided phone call from her mother and Derek. Dead Derek on her phone telling her he is in Los Angeles for the weekend and wants to see her. He throat seizes and she skips it as soon as her fingers fumble to the phone lying on her chest. When she's about to give up for the night Reagan's voice reverberates through the phone. She can hear her panting and shouting above the radio in the car and Pierce in the distance telling her to calm down- her telling him to drive faster.
She's smiling, tears are forming but she's smiling, authentically for the first time this week. It feels good to hear her. It hurts at the same time but she screams of home and reassurance in her demands. It's comforting in a way she can't explain other than maybe masochism but whatever it is keeps her listening until the message finishes and then another comes on. Five in all. Progressively less frantic and angry- the first one actually kind of pleasant simply asking that she meet them at the hospital so they can get the show on the road. She lets the liquid cascade down her face. The tears jolt out of their carefully crafted cage for all of the missing people in her life that are momentarily captured on her phone.
Little snippets of the past and she knows, finally knows, this is not her fault. It may be all frustratingly out of control but she couldn't have saved any of them; she can only save herself. A few more hitched breaths and little weak sobs and she ends the call, pulls Mark's shirts across the bed and breathes in the rapidly depleting scent. Impulsively she grabs her phone and dials. It rings seven times and she's greeted by a cold distant voice telling her that Dr. Mark Sloan is unavailable and to please leave a message so he can call back. It's not the voice she wanted so there's a brief ten second gap in her message as her mind tries to think of something to say.
"Hi…it's me…Addison. I don't really know what to say here…I-I…hope you're-okay…call me, please," she pauses, "Please just call."
Mark's eyes dizzily try to focus on where the noise is coming from but he decides to let it go. It's just his cell phone vibrating somewhere in the other room and he doesn't care anymore. He's busy watching. The white explosion of the waves crashing captivates him and entrances his body that is curled up around the blue sleeping bag instead of in it. With a ragged breath that reeks of a mouth that has been subjected to gallons of liquor in the last week and no tooth brush he slowly slips his eyes closed.
He listens to the commotion outside his door, hears the light rain splatter against the glass and knows he has never felt more alone than in this moment.
