A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews. I love hearing from you. I can't believe the little three-chapter story I let go in 2013 is now 29 chapters – this story is long. And I admit I'm kinda attached to the characters, and already plotting ways to revisit them, but that's a story for another day. So, right now, just to let you know, we're looking at probably 6 more chapters before this is wrapped up. Enjoy.
a billion tons of light explodes, we are illuminated now
"You take Max back to the hotel tonight. I'll stay with Annabel."
He sees her consider his words. Logistical arrangements are their parlance, but they're usually more of a back and forth and less of a pronouncement, the comforting start to any ordinary day in their Manhattan apartment or their Connecticut house.
And he sees the moment she almost asks him if he's okay. And then he's grateful that she doesn't – just nods, accepting his decision.
"We should take Amy too," Addison adds. They've just finished going over her testimony – Whore of Babylon meets Medea, that's how Addison described it, smiling ruefully, and his fist clenched in his pocket.
So he stays with Annabel: his daughter sleeps, but he doesn't.
He watches her sleep, pleased when she seems peaceful, anxious when she stirs in her sleep or, worse, a hint of discomfort flashes across her familiar features.
"Dr. Sloan," one of the night nurses scolds when she does a three a.m. vitals check. "We made up a cot for you."
"I know." He hangs his head a little from his seat next to Annabel's bed. He knows logically that she's fine, that the nurses in the peds neuro ward are extraordinary, that she has the best of care and that her prognosis is excellent.
But that's logic. The ball of anger and fear in his gut has no basis in logic. It's something primal that predates logic, flesh of my flesh and when Annabel's small hand finds his in her sleep he marvels again at how tiny she is.
It's not about me. He knows this. He knows Addison has had to deal with this – or repress it, or whatever – for forty years. And she's striding through the halls on a mission, purposeful, practical – it's obvious her testimony was as fierce as she is. She faced down a man who reminded her of something so traumatic she buried it for four decades. In other words, she's nothing short of heroic, and she's ashamed of himself. Ashamed that he was grateful not to be called for testimony, ashamed that when he thinks about the fact that the Captain is still in Seattle, he's sorely tempted to storm into his hotel room – or the golf course, or a bar, more likely – and sock him. Twice. Or maybe ten times.
Annabel makes a soft sound in her sleep – maybe dreaming – and he soothes her gently until her breathing is regular again.
Yeah, this ball of anger is something else – a raw, caveman sort of feeling, and it's requiring him to sit up and watch his daughter sleep, to stay awake all night, because it's his job to protect her. And for the first time since she was born almost seven years ago – no, longer, since Addison first told him she was pregnant – he's doubting his ability to do just that.
..
"How was Bel last night?"
"Great," he says as Addison and Max join him in the lobby, morning light making him squint a bit. Max twines around his legs. "Any word on Derek?"
"No."
It's their new greeting, and it takes place all over the hospital. He's reminded of the Shepherd family taking him to mass. Peace be with you. And also with you.
Addison touches his cheek. "Did you sleep at all?"
He's not going to lie to her face – she knows him too well, anyway – so he kisses her instead of responding, reaching down to ruffle Max's hair.
"Is Bel really coming home today?" Max tugs on his hand, and Mark lifts him into his arms.
"That's the plan, buddy. There are a lot of steps to make that happen, so you're going to hang out in the playroom for a while."
"Okay." Max looks from one parent to another. "But then Bel's coming home?"
"Then Bel's coming home." Mark kisses the top of his head and sets him on his feet. "You want me to take him, Addie, or..."
Addison is shifting her weight between her feet, looking nervous.
"What is it?"
She looks from him to Max and Mark, understanding, steps a couple of feet away so they can have relative privacy.
Addison leans close and lowers her voice. "The Captain, well, he wants to meet Annabel, you know, before he goes and meet Max … I mean, as himself."
"I don't really care what he wants."
Addison looks taken aback, stepping away from him at his full-voiced retort.
"Sorry," he says immediately. "I didn't mean to snap at you, I just don't like the idea of his making decisions for our children."
"He's not." Addison glances curiously at him. "We're the ones who decide. But, Mark … he helped, with the hearing. He did what we asked."
"He already met Max."
"Right, but not as himself."
He gazes at her for a moment. "You want to do this, Addie? Really?"
"Yeah." She looks down at her hands. "But not if you're not okay with it, Mark-"
"No, it's fine," he says brusquely. "Let's do it and get it over with."
"Mark," she crinkles her brow. "If you're … angry, you can talk to me…"
"I'm not angry." He sighs, forcing his voice to calm. "You're just … being awfully understanding about him, Addie, considering. I'm not sure the Captain deserves a favor from us."
She ponders this for a minute, then shrugs. "Well, the sooner he meets her, the sooner he's likely to leave."
Now that's a strategy he can get behind.
..
There's a good-sized family room on the peds ward with multiple private areas – not that the irony of meeting the Captain in a family room is lost on Mark – and Annabel feels strong enough to walk there herself, her hand in Mark's. He goes over in his mind the way he'll introduce the topic. He was going to tell her in her room, but he looked at her sweet smiling face, so much like herself now with the swelling down, and couldn't bring himself to do it. He'll just tell her before the Captain gets there.
He pauses halfway down the hall to check on her.
"You're not tired, Bel?"
"No, I'm good." Annabel is wearing street clothes and thrilled about it, even if they're as close to pajamas as possible without being marketed for bedtime: soft, loose pants and a comfortable-looking knit top with covered buttons down the front. There's a floppy head covering concealing her bandages, which looks a bit like a cross between a beret and a chef's hat, but somehow it suits her. She's still in her duck slippers, though. Mark is biased, he knows this, but just looking at her squeezes his heart.
"Is Max in there?" she asks as they approach.
Mark's about to answer her when he sees the Captain is already in the room. Okay, this wasn't perfectly timed, as Addison arrives right behind him with Max.
For a moment all four Sloans are frozen in the doorway.
Perfectly timed? This is more like horribly timed. For a moment, he considers grabbing Annabel and just leaving.
"Are you coming in?" The Captain asks, sounding confused, before he can do anything.
Addison prods his back, not hard, but her intent is clear. "Sorry," Mark says only a little grudgingly, not making eye contact, as he inches over the threshold. He keeps Annabel close to him, waiting for Annabel to make the introduction. He's not sure his own introduction would be very kid-friendly.
But the Captain speaks before anyone else can, and it's to Annabel.
"Hi there, princess." He leans down to smile at her, bending his tall frame with his hands on his knees; Annabel takes a step backwards, toward Mark, who rests his hands on her shoulders reassuringly.
"You're just the picture of your mother when she was a little girl." With that, the Captain stands back up to his full height and murmurs, apparently for Addison and Mark's benefit, "but with the milkman's hair, eh?"
"This is why I don't keep in touch," Addison mutters; Mark just grits his teeth. The sooner he meets her, the sooner he's likely to leave.
"And I know this little fellow is Max…"
Max smiles at the Captain. "Who are you again?" he asks brightly.
Mark can't help smiling. So much for Addison's training on introductions.
"I'm your grandfather," he says in that friendly, oh-so-casual voice that grates on Mark's nerves.
Max looks at his father for confirmation, but Mark shamefully can't bring himself to say yes or even nod. The room feels very small and very uncomfortable and he's already decided they have handled this all wrong when Max pipes up again.
"I thought you were a pilot," Max says, his little face puzzled and tilted up to see the Captain.
"Not a pilot, a sailor," Addison murmurs.
"Ithought me and Max didn't have any grandparents." Annabel is looking from the Captain to Mark, and guilt stabs him in the stomach.
"You're really our grandfather?" Annabel asks slowly.
The Captain nods. "That's right, princess, I am."
Mark grimaces. He hates the term princess as a pet name, though he can acknowledge that if it came from someone he loathed less than the Captain it probably wouldn't bother him at all. Now, though, it sets his teeth on edge.
"You're her father?" Annabel is still staring at the Captain as she points to Addison.
"Right again."
"We don't like you," Annabel says loudly, nudging Max, who nods automatically in agreement: Oprah's picks are nothing compared to his big sister's when it comes to choosing Max's likes and dislikes.
"Bel." Mark squeezes her shoulder gently. "Let's…"
"My dad said you weren't nice to my mom," Annabel interrupts, drawing away from Mark, propping a hand on her hip, and scowling at the Captain.
Addison winces and Mark shoots her a semi-apologetic glance.
"Bel, we don't need to talk about that right now," Mark says gently.
"We do too!"
"Annabel. That's enough, babe, let's talk about this later."
"I don't want a grandfather," Annabel says resolutely. "Not this one, anyway, he's not nice and we don't like him, me or Max either!"
"Yeah, me too," Max offers placidly when his sister glares at him; he's lounging comfortably against Addison's legs looking utterly undisturbed, but he knows his role.
"Excuse us for a minute," Mark smiles patiently at the group, taking Annabel by the hand that's not currently propped on her hip, making her look rather adorably like her mother.
Mark can still hear Addison and her father talking as they walk away.
"She's … high spirited," the Captain says dismissively.
"We've tried not to crush her spirit," is Addison's cool-voiced answer, and Mark can't help smiling.
He leads Annabel to a chair in a relatively private corner of the lounge and sits her down, crouching in front of her so they're on the same level. Before he can speak, she starts to cry.
"Sweetheart." He takes her hand. "It's okay."
"You said Mom's parents weren't nice to her."
"I know." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Bel. I wanted to talk to you before you met him, today, but I didn't time it right. I'm sorry."
"I don't like him," she whimpers.
"Me neither," he confesses, and Annabel is apparently so surprised by his admission that she stops crying.
"Really?"
"Yeah, really." He brushes a tear off her cheek with his thumb. "And we don't have to hang out with him. The Captain came out to Seattle to try to help us, and he wanted to meet you. So, that's it. He's met you. You don't have to talk to him again after today, not if you don't want to."
"I don't?" She widens teary blue eyes.
"Nope. We'll go back and say goodbye, two seconds, and we're done. But you do need to try to calm down, because you're still getting better and it's not good for you to get upset, so take a deep breath for me, okay?"
She does so, then gives him a watery smile.
"Good girl. One more."
She inhales, exhales, then sighs.
"You tired?"
"Kinda," she admits.
Mark lifts her into his arms.
Addison looks at both of them with concern when they rejoin the group. She's fine, Mark mouths to her.
"We should go finish up the discharge process," Mark says. "I'll bring her back to her room. Captain…"
He forces a smile onto his face. "Thanks for coming out here to help us." Safe travel, he doesn't say, only because he doesn't want to upset Addison, but in truth he's dying to know when wheels-up will take the Captain out of their lives again.
The Captain just nods serenely. "Don't mention it." His gaze turns to Annabel and Mark shifts her in his arms protectively, ready to do battle if the Captain is going to protest her words from earlier.
"Annabel…"
Mark makes no move to encourage his daughter to respond, but she lifts her head from his shoulder and looks up at the Captain.
"I just wanted to tell you that you're right," the Captain says quietly.
Annabel glances uncertainly at her father.
"I … wasn't always very nice," the Captain admits. "In the past. But I'd like to do better. I think I can do better. Start over, you know. Don't people deserve second chances?"
Annabel shrugs.
"I think she's a little overtired for philosophical questions, Captain." Mark keeps his tone light. "Bel, you want to say good-bye?"
"Bye," she says without much enthusiasm, but Mark notices that she's still looking at the Captain as he carries her down the hall.
..
"Are you mad at me?"
"Not at all." He settles her on her bed, smiling down at her. The worried expression on her face brings out her similarities to Addison, again.
"I wasn't very nice to that Captain guy."
"No, you weren't." He takes her hand. "But I think you were doing it for the right reasons."
"He wasn't nice to Mom. You said." Annabel glances at him for confirmation and Mark nods.
"Why is he here again?"
"He was helping us help Dr. Shepherd."
"Oh." Annabel looks down at the blanket on her bed. "'Cause of the meeting and stuff. 'Cause he was in trouble."
"Right."
Annabel looks up at him. "Do you think people should get second chances?"
"Well, I think we want Dr. Shepherd to get a second chance," Mark says carefully. 'He made a mistake, but he's sorry, and he worked hard to fix it."
"Is the Captain sorry?"
"I'm not sure," Mark says honestly. "But I do think he was trying to fix things, when he came here."
Annabel seems to be considering this. She's a thoughtful child and has been since she was little, the kind who weighs options and thinks about processes. She looks more like Addison, but Mark has always seen more of himself as a boy in her deliberate nature.
She is, as she has always been, so very much his child.
..
Annabel is sleeping when he closes the door quietly behind him, and walks straight into Meredith.
"Big day," Meredith smiles at him after he apologizes.
Mark nods. "We're ready." I think.
"How's she feeling?"
"Feisty," he says, before he can stop himself.
Meredith cocks her head. "Cranky?"
"Well, she pretty much told off Addison's father, but it's no more than I've wanted to do for years."
"That's great."
He raises his eyebrows; it's not that he's not happy to have someone on his side, but…
Meredith smiles as if she knows what he's thinking. "Because crankiness is a good sign, you know, with kids. They're medicated during surgery, and afterwards, and they're compliant and sleepy. They start to feel better, stronger, and then it registers that they'd like to be out of bed, and out of the hospital. That's the best sign they're ready to leave."
"You think she'll be ready to leave this afternoon?"
"I do." Meredith nods slowly. "You know Derek would prefer no flying for two weeks unless it's absolutely necessary."
"Right." They'd figured that to be the case, which means more time in Seattle, but with the four of them together. The way things should be.
"Are you – is it a problem to stay longer?"
Mark shakes his head. "Not at all. Whatever she needs." This is the longest he's gone without working in recent memory, but their practices will be fine; sympathetic colleagues and excellent staff are keeping them going. Mark and Addison are both accustomed to taking batches of time off in the summer, but they check in by phone, hold occasional office hours. They've never been this far away for this long.
"Ideally, Derek will be back at the hospital before…" Meredith's voice trails off. "At any rate, he'd like to be involved in her aftercare. He wants to be able to do this again, if it comes up."
Mark nods. He assumed as much. Derek was always a strategic, long-term thinker when it came to healing; of course he would already be thinking about how to turn the procedure they cobbled together for Annabel into a way to save more lives.
"Are you okay?" Meredith asks quietly.
"Yes. Fine." He meets her eyes. She looks concerned, and he wonders if Derek said anything to her. He's fine, it's true, but his muscles ache from his punishing workout and that hot ball of anger is still sitting in his gut, making it hard to swallow.
She nods shortly and prepares to leave.
"Meredith –"
"Yes?"
"Derek looked pretty happy before he went into the hearing," Mark tests the waters, interested; Addison had feigned ignorance, although he could tell she knew more than she let on, and he's curious.
Meredith smiles broadly, and Mark could swear he sees her eyes twinkle. "I'll let Derek tell you why himself," she says, turns on her heel and disappears.
..
He finds Addison in the playroom with Max. There's a child around his age with dark braids and red plastic glasses playing with him.
"Hi," Mark says to the little girl and she frowns at him.
"Do you work here?"
Mark shakes his head.
"Then I can't talk to you because I don't talk to strangers," she says, and turns back to Max, her braids swinging.
"Hi, Daddy," Max whispers, poking his head around his friend; Mark gives him a little wave and then Max ducks back into the circle of their play, which seems to involve a village that's half-train and half-dinosaurs and some kind of impending attack.
Addison grins at him. "Don't take it personally. She wouldn't acknowledge me until Dr. Robbins introduced us in front of her mom."
"No, I like it. She's smart." Mark eases down on the ground next to her, wincing slightly. It doesn't go unnoticed.
"Mark…"
"I'm fine, Addie." He rests a hand on her leg. "Meredith thinks Annabel's going to be good to go this afternoon."
"That's great." She glances at him, her smile fading. "Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"
"Addison, I just said…"
"I know what you said." Her voice is quiet, calm, and drowned out by the chatter of the children in the playroom. Only he can hear her. "But, Mark, you're … angry."
He tries to regulate his breathing; she knows him too well. "Not at you, I'm sorry."
"I know that. But you're still angry." She touches his shoulder and he winces slightly, still feeling the effects of his punishing workout. "At the Captain?" she asks doubtfully.
He doesn't answer.
"I know he's … difficult," Addison sighs.
"I'm sorry, Addie, it's just … he's so smug, and …"
"Yeah, he is." She smiles faintly. "Mark, I know you're looking out for me." She leans into him, which is worth the discomfort of his aching muscles. "You and Annabel both," she adds, shaking her head.
"Sorry about that." He recalls Annabel's words from earlier, repeating what he told her in the coffee shop that day. They weren't very nice to your mom. To the extent Annabel's outburst upset Addison, he's sorry, but he can't see the words as anything but true.
"Mark, it's just … it's okay, you know? He flew out here and helped us. He didn't have to do that."
"I know. That's pretty much what I told Bel."
"Well, she's a chip off the old block."
Mark kisses the top of her head. Feeling her close to him, seeing Max playing happily and knowing Annabel is sleeping peacefully under the eyes of a watchful nurse – that makes it almost okay. The anger doesn't melt, not exactly, but it's at bay. All they need to do now is get Annabel home, with them, and everything will be okay.
..
"You're Annabel Sloan's dad." A nurse smiles at him one room away from Annabel's. "She woke up a little while ago, and I believe Nurse Christie took her to the activity room."
"Oh." He doesn't like not knowing where she is, but he nods. At least the nurse found him before he could see an empty bed. Addison was planning to come meet them, but he figures he'll find Annabel before he updates his wife on her location.
The activity room is another perk of the hospital, a nice one. It's one hall over from Annabel's room and serves multiple peds subspecialty wards. The gentle, multi-ability-focused art and directed play are a nice break for the young patients, he knows, and for their families as well. He and Addison have both been in and out of the room as Annabel has grown stronger.
The room is fairly quiet when he gets there, but still bright and cheerful with yellow painted walls, a nature-themed mural, and children's artwork tacked up on an oversized bulletin board. There's an emergency station staffed by nurses, two pediatric art staffers in paint-splatter scrubs, and several children scattered around engaging.
Scanning the room, he doesn't see Annabel at first, and anxiety curdles in his stomach. Where is his daughter?
Then he sees the back of a small body, long hair extending under a soft, floppy head covering, seated on a padded chair. There's a man he doesn't recognize crouched in front of her, his hands on the armrests of her chair. On either side of her.
Trapping her.
The air leaves his lungs as he realizes that the man isn't wearing scrubs. All the employees in peds wear uniforms. This man doesn't work here. And no one is intervening.
Annabel is trapped, tiny in her bright yellow robe in the big chair, there's no way she can move.
Mark's heart speeds up. For a second he's frozen: he watches, as if through a screen, as the man leans forward, murmuring something indistinct...
and kisses her on the cheek…
and reaches out to stroke her dark hair.
And then all he knows is pure, animal rage.
"Get the hell away from her!"
The scream tears from his throat as he grabs the man by the front of his shirt and hauls him up, slamming him into the wall.
"Don't you touch her!" Mark's arm is blocking the other man's windpipe and he's straining for air, his face red, his hands grasping for purchase. Mark shoves him harder into the wall to contain him. This guy doesn't deserve air.
"Daddy!" Annabel cries, sounding terrified and he realizes he must be frightening her.
Even though he got there in time.
He did get there in time, didn't he?
But when he looks down anxiously to reassure her that everything is fine he sees wide, frightened brown eyes locked on the man he's pinned to the wall.
"Daddy," she whimpers again.
…eyes that don't belong to Annabel at all.
Nausea overtakes him when he looks for a second time, breathing heavily with adrenaline and exertion, and sees the little girl's robe is pink, not yellow. Her long hair is lighter and curlier than Annabel's, and panicked cries are coming from her unfamiliar face as she reaches her arms out to the man Mark is still gripping in a chokehold.
"Someone call security," he hears a voice say into a walkie-talkie. Then rough hands are on his arms, pulling at him, ordering him to release his prisoner.
"I'm sorry. I thought - I'm so sorry." His hands fall free and he lets the other man go, panting, watching as he shoves past Mark to immediately sweep his daughter into his arms, rocking her, even as he's gasping for breath.
"It's okay, baby, everything's okay now, Daddy's here, you're okay."
Then he turns on Mark, still holding his child, cradling her head protectively against his shoulder, his voice as loud as it is hoarse – due, Mark realizes with a twisting sensation in his gut, to the pressure of Mark's arm on his windpipe. "My daughter just had surgery and so did these other kids, you fucking maniac! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"All right, let's all try to calm down." A male nurse is standing between them.
"What are you even doing here?" The man is glaring at Mark. "Is security coming? I want this man arrested!"
Mark stands helpless.
Several children, including the one he thought was Annabel, are crying. He watches nurses and volunteers lead the other children out. The rest of the staff is ringing him in a wary circle now, staring at him like he's going to do something unpredictable. He hears the buzzing of walkie-talkies suggesting security is coming.
"I don't need treatment," the man Mark attacked is saying, brushing away the nurse who's trying to examine his throat, his tone impatient. "I'm fine. I just want him out of here, now. My daughter is trying to recover from brain surgery!"
A burly security officer Mark him by the arm. "Sir, you're going to need to leave."
He feels dizzy. No, he can't do that. He tries to protest, his own voice weak like he's the one who was choked. "But my daughter…"
"Daddy?"
This time it is Annabel's voice; he turns to see his daughter standing hand in hand with Addison in the doorway of the activities room, looking confused and frightened.
But it's nothing compared to the expression on Addison's face.
Reviews are the gas in my engine, the spokes in my wheel, and other metaphors that don't really work. The bad news: an abrupt, cliff-esque ending. The good news: new chapter is mostly written and will go up tomorrow! So don't hate me too much.
Coming up next: Annabel is released, plus: What's eating Mark, more Derek, more flashbacks, and Addison has some difficult conversations.
Title lyric from Vega4's A Billion Tons of Light
