A/N: I wish I could say this would end at 40 chapters but all I can really say is that it will end this year. Small goals. Disclaimer for the chapter: I'm no doctor and though I research (minimally) I in no way expect it to be 100% accurate. Enjoy-
~-~-~-~-~-~
We have more hurt inside
Than we could ever feel
Multiply your worst mistake
As we complicate the end
- The Jealous Sound, "Above The Waves"
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Violet, do you have a minute?" Addison asks professionally, appearing nonchalant in front of Cooper and Pete while she tries to finish off her sandwich. Eating has not been kind to her lately.
Violet looks down at her schedule and then back up a little skittishly. "S-sure."
They twist back through the hall, after running into each other in the kitchen, and Violet chooses Addison's office to walk into, in case they need somewhere comfortable and nonthreatening. Really in case of if Addison found out some of the stuff Violet said about her coming back, not that she thinks Addison would start fights but still. "What's up?"
"I...there is no good way to ask this...so I'm just gonna say it," Addison sighs and lets her raised elbows fall against her desk.
"Be my guest."
"I was wondering-" she lowers her voice, "if maybe you knew someone I could talk to."
Violet looks behind them to make sure the door is shut. "A therapist?"
"No!" Addison pouts. "Yes. I think, I don't know. Maybe it could help." Something needs to help.
"I'm always available if you need to share-"
"No," Addison tells her. "This is...not sharing material. It's...do you know someone or not? I thought I'd ask you since you are in with the crowd but if you don't then..."
Violet watches Addison trail off squeamishly and then smiles easily. "His name is Jacob Atwater and he doesn't take new patients but if you tell him Violet Turner sent you it should be fine. He's very good. Very discreet. A little unconventional at times but good." She leaves off the part about how she used to see him years ago and still calls in an emergency session every now and again. "I'll get you his card."
Addison, though not looking up, can hear the shifting around beginning to happen. "Thank you."
Violet nods knowingly. For some reason the world seems to think therapy makes you inferior. Some things just can't be handled alone. And therapy is definitely not for the weak. "You're welcome."
"Violet!" Addison calls out, head securely resting in her sweating hands.
"I won't say a word," Violet returns, still retreating from her spot in the doorway.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Come in, come in." Jacob gestures toward his big blue chairs. "Sit, please."
"Oh, thanks." Addison runs a hand over the back of her skirt as she slowly descends and then primly folds her hands in her lap, ankles crossed.
"So...how is Violet?"
Addison bites her lip and looks out the window worriedly. This feels like a bad idea. "She's...good, I guess."
"And how are you?" Jacob settles into his seat and reaches for the pad of yellow paper on the table to his right.
"Fine." She pauses. "Listen Dr.-"
"Oh, no call me Jake. I'm not...I'm not into titles Addison. Just Jake is good."
"O-ok," she stammers and looks to the carpet for answers. "I think this was a mistake."
"Why do you say that?" he asks as she stands up hesitantly.
"I thought – I'm not ready." Addison nods to herself and reaches for her bag, which considering the state of her growing abdomen is slightly difficult and the blonde psychiatrist beats her to it by a long shot.
"How far along are you?"
"What?" Addison looks up from her purse, that both of their hands are still clasping.
He points to her stomach, "How far along are you?"
"Oh...um...about..." She mentally calculates for a second, "28 weeks."
"Almost to the home stretch. First child?"
"Yes," she answers immediately and doesn't correct the singular assumption.
"Nervous?" he baits, and watches as she backs toward the door.
"No...well, yes. A little. I mean everyone is right?" she rolls her eyes at herself and then sputters, "I-I'm just going to go now." With her training and years and years of experience there should be no reason for worry and yet, it's always there. A constant among the variables of change.
"You sure?" He watches her bob her head assuredly. "We can talk about whatever you want. The weather, baseball, unicorns, work...whatever you feel like. No pressure."
"No, thank you. I'm sorry this was a waste of your time. I thought – I was ready." She grins wobbly and reaches for the shiny, inviting knob.
"Well, feel free to give me a call when you are...ready, okay?" He lets her tiptoe out the door before adding, "Though, I should probably let you in on a little tip." Her ears perk up a bit, waiting for a secret. "You're never really going to be ready for this. Call it a gut feeling but I've seen your type before."
"My type?" she asks in a higher pitched voice than normal.
"Headstrong, better than therapy, obviously virgins to the whole process."
"I'm not better – I don't mean to insult what you do."
"Not a problem Addison," he shrugs. "It's not for everyone but I can help. I know you're thinking there's no way I can possibly be of any assistance when I know nothing...and you're not going to tell me much, that's a given, but I can help. I'm good at my job."
When she's had enough about her type (because she's been labeled since before the womb part of her life) she leaves with her head high and her shoulders heavy. She hasn't seen a therapist since she was eight and old enough to protest about it the audacity of it but she's certain it's got nothing to do with being better than the institutional umbrella under which the whole thing stands.
She's just not ready.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Where you been?" Mark greets, slipping a hand to her lower back and pulling open the glass contraption with his other. "Naomi said you had something at the hospital but Charlotte said she hasn't seen you name anywhere today."
"Are you stalking me?" Addison asks, marching herself to the front counter to check in for her appointment.
"No, just...making sure you're okay. I get to worry Addison." He tells her the last part softly, smiling, like they are sharing a coupley moment that makes all the women with screaming babies and huge stomachs that much more jealous. He likes the onlookers. He likes when people think they are normal.
Since their vow to talk more they've actually done less talking but it doesn't diminish the fact that he feels like they are still on the same page, albeit wandering a little from time to time, or skipping ahead a chapter. He doesn't mind it now that a lot of the laundry has been aired and he's trying to be patient. His house, which was embarrassingly easy to clean out and get ready, has been on the market for six days and he's amazingly had ten offers. He'd take any one of them but Addison said they should at least wait a week and try and make some money on the place. No sense in being stupid about something that doesn't hurt them to hang onto.
"I was...I had a thing which turned out to not be a thing, but can we just drop it?" she pleads, slipping into the cushioned chair and reaching for a magazine to flip through. Anything to distract her from the fact that this could/is about to be disastrous. Call it a gut feeling, literally.
"Sure." He grabs the smudged, glossy pages she wasn't reading and steals her fingers. "This is going to be okay. You look really good Addison, I'm proud."
Her grin turns into an awkward frown. "Thanks."
She doesn't look that good. Maybe he can simply tell that she is trying, rather halfheartedly, because going full throttle on anything these days it outright impossible. Or maybe he's merely being nice, which he does frequently now, something she finds more than annoying and keeps her mouth shut about. Perhaps she's the only one who thinks there is nothing to be that cheerful and excited about.
Maybe it's just her. Maybe it's all in her head.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Addison, you look great. I'm surprised, after having read what you had faxed over this morning, but everything is...close to normal, I think we are getting back on track." Her doctor smiles widely and looks about ready to give her a high five. She glances over at Mark who is up out of his seat and making his way over to the exam table.
"Really?" she squeaks, searching for honesty.
"They are still quite small given gestation time but you've come a long ways from where you were so I'm not too terribly concerned right now. However, I would like to start seeing you weekly. Make sure you are progressing and the babies are not falling behind. Ok?" Dr. Everly stoops to a chair on his left and begins scratching out notes.
Addison thinks it can't be right, granted she wasn't looking at the scans or studying umbilical cords and heart rates but still. "I'm okay?"
"Given the circumstances," the old man replies gently.
"Addison," Mark stutters for a second lost in a haze of 3-d images that were just on the screen in front of him, "this is good. Fantastic, even."
"I know," she assures him. "I just want to make absolutely certain that-"
"Is work stressful?" the doctor interjects.
"No."
"Is there something bothering you?" he presses.
"I'm good," Addison replies with a slight smile. "If they're good, I'm good."
"Mark, can you give us a second?" And after Mark gets the go ahead nod from Addison he steps out, staying close by the door, for fear that something may erupt between the parties like last time. God forbid she explode on another person trying to help her.
"Listen, Addison let's skip the speech and get to the point here," Dr. Everly finally decides, turning off machinery and grabbing a nearby seat.
"Are they-"
"They're fine," he pats her knee, "I'm worried about you. Is everything going okay? Anything I should know about? Any pain? Bleeding? Irregularities?"
"No," she shakes her head heartily. "Everything has been...fine...nothing out of the ordinary."
"Mark explained to me how...difficult things have been recently-"
"He what?" she gawks immediately, reminding herself never ever to take an important call while in an appointment.
"He was basically filling me in on some of the things that have happened and I want you to know that it's going to be alright. If you rest, relax, and keep on eating then I don't foresee any serious complications-"
"Filling you in..." she repeats in a trance. How much? Why? Where does he get off?
"I'm very sorry for your-"
"Don't!" she yells loudly. Gut reactions are not always pretty. "Just...please don't say that."
Everyone in the world is sorry. Even the ones who have no idea what it is like. She's still too bitter to appreciate the sentiments.
"Ok," he grins trying to change gears, "I want to see you every week from here on out and you should probably start thinking about taking leave from work-"
"No, work is fine," Addison begins, her hand wringing into carefully constricted knots. Without work she would go insane. Without that distraction, that goal to drive towards every day, life would be disastrous. "And I'll set up the appointments when I'm done. Are we done?"
"Sure," he agrees and pushes out of his seat and back up to the counter. "Addison, I know you think you're alone, but if you need anything...or have questions that you can't answer yourself...I'm here. I'm your doctor so you don't have to be, alright?"
"I understand," she tells him hopping down off the table and grabbing her purse before deftly removing herself from the room and bypassing not only Mark but also the receptionist in her fury.
Today is so not her day.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Ohhh...what did you do?" Sam asks Mark as they make their way down the practice's hall to the waiting area. "She is livid. I haven't seen her this upset since Derek...never mind."
"I didn't do anything," Mark says softly looking around the office, hoping the caged redhead is still in her office or with a patient.
"You did something," Sam nods knowingly.
"She's overreacting."
"You didn't tell her that, did you?" Sam asks apprehensively. This man clearly needs help.
"Maybe, but she...was flipping out and she tried to leave me in the middle of town."
"You did something." Sam is convinced. "Naomi know?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. She said they don't really talk."
"Maybe this can be the thing that brings them back together then," Mark mutters and points at Dell until he snaps too and forks over the file.
"You may as well tell me," Sam urges, picking up his own chart and fumbling through it.
"Why Addison is mad?" Dell pipes up.
"Yeah," Sam answers, Mark looking away.
"No one knows," Dell announces and flips back to the phone which now rings about seventy times a day thanks to the to new doctors. He constantly wonders why they never give out their direct numbers. Voicemail is not such a horrible thing. "She told me to keep you the hell away from her fucking office though."
"Dell!" Sam scolds instantly.
"Her words," Dell explains, his hands in the air innocently.
"Not good." Sam slaps Mark's back trying to remember the last time he heard Addison use that terminology without the help of a surgery high or alcohol low. "Not good at all."
"Thanks."
"It may be best to let it run its course. You know how she gets," Sam advises while searching the area for his next patient.
"Yeah." Mark knows what he did, but he also knows it needed to be done. It was a necessary thing, and no, not something she wanted. However angry, he feels safe in his decision to ease some of the difficulty without her permission. He will do everything in his power to keep the twins on schedule, even it means pissing off the carrier in the process.
"Poker, next Thursday. Bring your wallet cause Pete says he is on a mission. Oh! And before I forget Naomi mentioned something about a baby shower when she was picking up Maya this morning..."
"Sounds good," Mark nods. "You think Addison would be okay with me planning something like that and not telling her?"
Sam looks over his shoulder incredulously. It shouldn't even be asked, the leggy surgeon hates being surprised. Everyone knows that. "Hell no."
"Right."
~-~-~-~-~-~
"No," Naomi mumbles to Mark while brushing a finger under her nose to keep from sneezing for the fiftieth time. The scents and pollens and petals are killing her. "Hurry up."
"You could just tell me," Mark shoots back, enraged that he has to keep pointing to different flower arrangements. "Or you could've just let me call the order in and have the nice lady behind the counter do this."
"No," Naomi argues. "You screwed it up and you're going to correct it not..." she looks over for a name tag, "not Stacey."
"This one," Mark asserts judging the yellow buds heavily. It looks like Addison, whatever that means. He's more concerned with the fact that he can still recognize things she'd prefer. Some skills never leave you.
Naomi smiles, thankful that this can finally be over with. "Yes."
She watches him pay and struggle with the large bouquet until it's under his arm in a manageable manner. They burst out onto the busy sidewalk, in the bright light, both snagging dark sunglasses off their respective heads. "What did you do anyway?"
"Nothing that's worth what I just paid for this." He points at the flowers and then sighs, "I said some things that I maybe shouldn't have to her doctor."
"Like?" Naomi slings her purse over her shoulder and sets a path out for them, daring the passing crowd to interfere.
"About Derek...and Seattle...and the not eating thing. He needed to know."
"Be that as it may, you should have discussed it with Addison first."
"She wouldn't have allowed-"
"But she still would've known," Naomi interjects knowledgeably.
"I guess," Mark gives in. He squeezes the dewy plant a little tighter, secretly hoping she loves it, before stuffing it into the back of his car and throwing himself into the driver's seat.
"I don't know about a baby shower," Naomi begins, once securely inside, Mark swearing at the traffic and asshole drivers under his breath.
Mark nods. He's not so sure either. On one hand it needs to be done. Literally. The only have a few weeks left here and the reality of the situation is that there is a half-assed nursery that belongs to someone else and a purple room that would break his heart to repaint. Which only leaves the small room downstairs that he believes Addison wants to turn into an office. It's filled with half empty boxes and a shiny mahogany desk that hasn't been used since it sat in the brownstone. On the other hand, she doesn't like to talk about the twins, feel them, enjoy them, or hate them for making her sick, cranky, achy, and swollen. It's like a mine field, and so far all he's done is step on the red squares of death. "Maybe it will help."
"I don't need her any more mad at me. I hate fighting with her, it's exhausting Mark."
"We'll say I did it," he decides. He can take the fall because eventually she always comes back. The waves build and recede like the water outside their window. Even if they wipe away the foundation of the sandcastle, the sand is still there.
Naomi groans in her seat and squirms around. "We should ask-"
"And she'll say no, if she says anything at all."
"But at least she'll see it coming," Naomi urges, thoroughly convinced he's not getting the point or learning his lesson.
"So she can be prepared to run away? I want her to have this...even if she doesn't want it. In a few years she'll look back...and be thankful or something."
"Yeah, you got the 'or something' part right."
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Come along," Violet demands, dragging Addison into her office by the arm. Once arrived, she watches the other woman shake her freed limb vigorously, trying to get the light ache worked out.
"What the-"
"Jacob said you canceled on him," Violet states pointedly, drifting to the couch and tugging down the blue blanket to snuggle with.
"I didn't," Addison replies defensively. "I was there...and..."
"And?" Violet shakes her head confused.
"And I couldn't," Addison laments, drowning herself into the soft fabric of the chair on her left. She lets her hands find the edge of the armrests and begins toying with the seam, waiting for it all to unravel. Isn't this how it goes?
"Couldn't what?"
"It's..." Addison begins wearily. "I don't even know how to say any of it out loud. How ridiculous is that?"
"Do you think it's ridiculous?" Violet asks carefully.
"It's all I think about...the...everything...and I can't find the words to use." Dead sister, dead baby daddy, dead love life, dead emotions. On and on and on. And yet, her head is too over used to think of anything to say about any one of the subjects. All she knows is pain and dark. There aren't preconceived sentences and paragraphs woven and available for her to spew forth.
"It's a lot to deal with on your own," Violet neutralizes.
"It really is," Addison agrees with a grin. "Thank you Violet. I know we aren't...friends but, thank you."
"Not a problem." She takes a calm moment before prodding. "Is there something you want to talk about? I'm good...with listening."
Addison sighs heavily. She has so much to say, so many ideas that need to find their way out into the world. She glances at the curly haired woman, cozied up on her couch, blissfully unaware of the problems sitting in front of her. Addison clears her throat and gives in to the one thing she can't solve on her own. The grief, that constant pain, it's almost like an old friend but this she isn't sure of. "I...aborted Mark's baby...and I'm afraid he's trying to make up for it now...and it...I don't want that for him or me."
Violet tries to remain devoid and unimpressed, "Why do you think that?"
"He has taken it into his own hands to command the rest of this pregnancy. When I eat, when I sleep, and I know he thinks he's helping but mostly I want to beat him over the head with my shoe," she rambles out so quickly it almost sounds like one word.
"Is it a bad thing, that he's helping so much?" Violet shrugs.
"No...yes...I don't know," she explains fluttering her hands into the air, "I...like that he wants to be there, even though it's awkward, but sometimes it's too much. This is a me thing...and I don't want him around it...which sounds, now, incredibly self-centered and ugly, but...it's the truth."
"You want him to back off?"
"Yes," Addison swallows. She wants everyone to back off and give her a moment to breathe. Give her a glimpse of whether or not she can do this and a second to process. Her timing has become impeccably slow, nearly at a standstill, and she needs a minute longer than the rest of the world.
"Do you always want to do things alone?"
"What?" Addison questions, being brought back again, against her will. "No...that's not what I meant."
"But you do want to do this alone?"
"It's mine to do!" she shouts back, standing hastily, the chair moving with her.
"Hmmm," Violet grins. "Alright."
"Alright? Alright!" And this is why she doesn't do therapy. Everything gets twisted. Everything that makes sense in her head sounds ludicrous in the smug office air.
"Yes, alright."
"Am I wrong to...want-"
"You want what you want Addison, me proving or disproving it won't change anything," Violet states, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. "I'm not your voice of reason."
"You think I should just accept it and be happy?"
"I'm not saying anything," Violet says softly, watching as Addison begins to pace the room.
"It's not that I'm not thankful, because I am. And it's nice to have him...around...it's just not the time...and I can't deal with all of that," she circles with her arms, "and...and all of this," she pauses mouth lost in thought, "I can't lose him."
"There's your answer."
"I hate this," Addison announces storming to the door, and not for the first time wishing that she was back up in Seattle living on Cristina Yang's couch, hiding under a book.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Mark tugs the vase a little closer to his chest, covering his face with the strongly scented flowers, and kicks open Addison's door with his shoe. He steps forward tentatively, and places the mess on her desk.
"Peace offering for a truce?" Addison questions sarcastically.
"Can't blame a guy for trying."
"I'm sorry Mark," she says first, before he can get his mouth open. "I...overreacted. And while I still wish you wouldn't have spoken to Dr. Everly without my consent, I'm almost a little relieved that he understands the entire situation."
"I'm sorry I didn't ask. I was sure you'd say no."
"I would've."
Mark looks down her floor with a grin. "Did we really just do that?"
"I think we did," she laughs out something that could be construed as a giggle.
"Not our first fight," Mark mentions.
"First one that counts," Addison corrects and stands up to take his fingers in her own for a celebratory kiss and embrace.
"Cake," Mark smirks before leaning in and capturing her lips. He relaxes when they meet, unhurried and boastful. He slips his tongue past her guard when she stumbles on her heels and tries to move back causing her to moan accidentally. When he's had his fill, and a little more, he removes his hands from trying to travel up under shirt because they seem to have a mind of their own, and brushes a fistful of hair off of her blushing cheeks. "Shall we commemorate with dinner?"
"That'd be nice," she nods, redness still stuck to her face, thoughts of pushing him down on her desk invading her brain.
"I'll let you pick this time." There's no telling what she'll want from one day to another anymore and though she'll go anywhere to appease him, he can tell when it's not what she really wanted. "One condition," he warns when her mouth parts in thought.
"What?"
"No more Chinese. I can't stomach another egg roll."
"Deal," she complies and rushes forward for another goodbye kiss. "We should fight more."
"Agree to disagree on that," Mark chuckles and then heads toward his next patient. "See you three in an hour."
And to think it was going so well until that mention.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Addison!" Mark pounds on the bathroom door with his fist before checking his watch again.
"Hold on," she curses, mascara wand unsteady in her oddly shaky hand. She got a plan. Operation keep Mark. She glances back at the well manicured reflection, proud of her skills, and straightens the silk hemline once more across the tip top of her thighs. It should do the trick.
"We're missing our reservation," he grumbles, shuffling to the bed and collapsing down, deeming the whole thing a lost cause.
"Shame," Addison says as she pulls the door back, "I was kind of thinking we could stay in tonight."
"What-" his mouth dries as he tries to finish the sentence, eyes resting on the shimmering black fabric as it dips across her chest. "That's..."
"You like?"
He nods slowly, coming to the terms with the idea of Addison seducing him, now of all times. "Yes," he says when he can formulate syllables again. He wants to dart his tongue out to taste, just a little. Allow his teeth to graze her shimmering skin, let his mouth leave a wet trail across the expanses of muscle.
"Good," she smiles weakly, "because I feel like an idiot.'
"Well, you don't look like an idiot," Mark says with ease, enjoying that her hormones are still somewhere in that crazy head.
"What do I look like?" She asks, already baited and moving forward toward the bed.
"Get over here and I'll tell you," he winks and carefully pulls her down on top of him when she's close enough.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"I actually think this may work," Naomi grins, looking around at the pink, yellow, and purple balloons filling Addison's living room.
"I can't believe we had to leave work for this," Violet grumbles searching for alcohol in the cupboards. "Where's the liquor in this place?"
"Top shelf," Mark yells back, putting the finishing touches on the few white tables outside on the deck, set up and ready for dinner.
"Who's coming?" Sam asks, dropping Maya's backpack on the stairs and ushering her toward her mother so she can groom and poke the poor teenager.
"Us," Naomi waves her hand around at the office staff, "A few of the people from St. Ambrose-"
"Charlotte King?" Violet moans, popping the top on some sparkling wine, and searching for a glass.
"Yes, Charlotte King, to both of your displeasures. Maybe you two can bond. And I invited Pierce and the girls..."
"Oh come on," Mark groans, dropping the pile of silverware in his hand and marching back into the kitchen. "Naomi-"
"It's her family," she states plainly and shrugs.
"You didn't invite any of her other family did you?" Mark glares, clearly questioning whether or not Mrs. Montgomery will be gracing them with her presence.
"No, she was...busy."
"Don't tell Addison." Mark heads back outside, to finish his job, and checks the wall clock one more time.
"I'm not planning on it," Naomi pauses before noticing that everyone else, Pete included, is consumed in other conversation, and then follows Mark. "She's been in a really great mood lately."
"Yeah," Mark smiles. "That's why...I hope this doesn't ruin it."
"I don't think it will," Naomi pats his shoulder. "Do...did something happen with you guys or...is she just coming around?"
"I don't know," he says quite seriously. Addison, since their fight on has been nothing but a glimmering ray of sunshine and while sometimes he wants to question it, he knows better than to mess with the fried nerves and her over the top freak outs. If it needs to end, it will and they'll deal with all consequences and implications of said mood swing. But he's not going to be the guy to burst her bubble. "She's certainly easier to handle this way."
"Yeah," Naomi concurs. "She is even talking to me again. Everything is going okay with her schedule?"
"As far as I know," Mark nods. "I wish she wouldn't be so intent on killing herself but until something happens my tongue is kind of tied."
"If she's careful-"
"She's good," he red lights and halts the conversation when the doorbell rings. Forty seconds later he has a squealing child attached to his leg. "Hello."
"Mark! Mark!" Ellie jumps, trying to get into his tight grasp. "Guess what?"
"What?" he laughs, attacked and triumphed by her energy.
"Daddy says we are moving to the place with all the trees and a big yard and the-"
"You're moving," Mark says calmly, not wanting to disturb her spouting. "When Ellie?"
"Daddy says soon. Probably a week...or I dunno. Where's Addie?"
"She's on her way," he tugs her closer to him, "But hey Ellie?" He takes her jumbled response as a go-ahead. "This is a surprise party for Aunt Addie. Have you ever been to a surprise party?"
She nods, her curls bouncing over the straps of her green dress. "Haley had a 'prise birthday party and she had ponies and-"
"Yes, like Haley so when Aunt Addie comes in we will yell 'Surprise!' alright?" He smiles when she appears to get it. "Where's your dad?" He watches her fingers point toward the house and he gingerly drops her back down to her own feet and steers her toward Maya, the only other child entity present.
"Pierce, can I get a word?"
"Hey man," Pierce smiles and sets his drink on the counter. "Nice place she has here. I never really saw the inside."
"Oh," Mark looks around, surveying the mounting crowd, "Yeah, it's nice. Can we talk...somewhere more private?"
"Sure."
Mark drags him upstairs and nearly throws Ellie's makeshift bedroom door open. He stomps to the center of the room and opens his arms.
"What are you doing?" Pierce asks, taking a seat on the low to the ground bed.
"I did this," he points toward the dresser, "I put that thing together. It took hours and I was there when Ellie picked out the color for her walls. I painted all fucking weekend making sure she'd like it. I lugged that damn antique bookshelf up the stairs in the dark and I was home when the delivery man dropped off her bed. I bought her that music box and I played dolls with her for hours while you were off gallivanting and Addison was downstairs dealing with a colicky infant."
"Mark- I don't...do you want me to reimburse you?" Pierce shifts nervously on the bed, hands growing sticky with anticipation.
"You don't even want her! You don't want them, you never did, and now you are moving them away from the only family they have!"
"I'm their father, and we are moving approximately five hundred miles to the north, San Francisco, not the middle of the country or something. My firm is opening a new office and I need to head up there to oversee some things due to the conditions of my tentative partnership. I can't screw this up and San Francisco has great schools...she'll adjust. Kids are resilient like that."
"She doesn't deserve this," Mark grumbles to his shoes, more upset at himself for being a jackass than anything else.
"Well that's how life works unfortunately," Pierce rolls his eyes.
"Where's Kennedy?"
"I don't...Naomi has her I think."
"You think?!" Mark shouts.
"Relax man, damn. She's fine. Naomi is competent and I trust her."
"Well, I don't trust you," Mark retorts angrily.
Pierce lets his head fall to the side in confusion. "Did I do something to you that I am unaware of?"
Mark paces forward, filled with pent up rage, and stops just a few inches from the other man's face. "You left them."
"I came back!"
"But you didn't want to." And he takes personal issue with people who don't want their children. It's a byproduct of his upbringing and long gone but nothing changes the blinking button that won't disengage once it's been pushed.
"What! You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be the asshole who can't hold it together long enough to take care of his kids? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I miss my wife and I'm sorry that I...couldn't but I'm trying. I'm doing my best and regrettably you had to be there for the lowest point in my life."
"Mark, what are you doing?" Addison asks, tentatively slipping into the testosterone fueled room.
"Nothing." He dashes from the room and pounds his fist into the wall on the way back to the guests but it doesn't make him feel any better. Instead, he pauses just outside, nursing his ego and throbbing hand, hoping to catch a bit of their conversation.
"I'm...I don't...Pierce." Addison bites her lip, wishing the blood would gush free so she could escape without another scratch on her dented armor.
"It's fine. I get it, I do...understand. I'm just...going to go grab my kids and...congratulations Addison." He shuffles numbly to the door before turning back around. "I do love them, you know. It may not seem like it...but it's hard, so hard most days."
"I know," she whispers back watching him gracelessly tumble out the doorway. When she finds the gall to shake off the emotions her feet retreat, running into Mark. "What the hell was that?"
"I...was talking," he explains pitifully.
"Looks like you were being an idiot."
"He's moving! He's taking them Addison."
"Not our problem Mark," she spells out slowly. "Look, I know we don't see eye to eye on this and I never understand where you are coming from so let's just go downstairs, think of a little lie, get some ice on your hand, and try to enjoy my surprise?"
"Fine," he sulks, propped up against the wall.
"I do like that you fight for them though," she says as they descend, effectively cutting off any reply he could have by immersing herself in the pile of friends and co-workers.
~-~-~-~-~-~
A few short hours after everyone dispersed and Mark headed next door for his much needed poker time with the guys Addison finds herself locked amongst the sea of matching baby clothes and multi-colored blankets. She figures it will probably take until they are in front of her screaming for the whole thing to come together but for now, amidst the endless socks and tiny hats, she feels absolutely nothing. More accurately, she feels like she is cleaning up after someone else's baby shower.
The pale wrapping paper, tissue paper and whimsical gift bags were hauled out to the trash before the last attendee had even left. The food had been cleared and stored back in the refrigerator for another time. She did her best to eat, especially in front of everyone and she was quite proud with the results of a few people teasing her about consuming for three. In truth, most of them don't know. At least half of the people here think she is having Mark's baby and they certainly don't doubt there is only one on the way. Addison, never caring and ceaselessly exhausted, hasn't corrected a single soul since she's been back. She lets them think what they want, hear what they want, and gossip about what they want.
It's self preservation really. There's no energy to fight the good fight anymore.
She grabs another small dress to fold before scooping up the whole mess and dumping it into a half empty box in the would-be office downstairs. She doesn't know where a nursery will go and she doesn't have anything color schemes picked out for the walls and cribs. It's the opposite of everything, of how she thought these things would go, and perhaps that, more than the rest of it, is what bothers her the most.
She has, in effect, been robbed of the only thing she desired for over half of her life. The main problem is that the only thief in the building is presently shoving new bottles and pacifiers into the trashcan outside and she doesn't know what to do with that.
~-~-~-~-~-~
He gropes around in the useless porch provided light trying to find the doorbell before surrendering and knocking heavily until she answers.
"Pierce, did you forget something?" Addison looks behind her, at the pristine living room she's been gutting (nesting, in the worst possible way) to discover nothing that could remotely belong to Ellie.
"You look so much like her. I forgot," he says stepping forward, invading her space, and forcing her back against the art covered wall.
"Pierce," Addison hums softly, afraid of the deranged look he is currently sporting.
"And Ellie loves you," he comments, progressing further, until their shirts are rubbing against each other. "You could come with us."
"I...can't," she argues weakly, not wanting to upset the light grasp he has on her wrists. She cringes when he brushes his cheek against hers, eyes closed, and sighs.
"So much like her." He pushes his face against hers more forcibly and takes in the scent of her hair, very much resembling his dead wife's everyday smell.
"You shouldn't...be here, where's Ellie?" Addison feels him relax against her, body melting into hers every so slightly. "Pierce, I'm not Reagan. I'm not, I'm not," she urges him, tears beginning to trickle down her face. "Let me go, please, let go."
"I miss her," he laments, refusing to move, his weight keeping her trapped but the emotional toll tilting the air of unease.
"Me too," she nods her head against his, wiggling a hand free and wrapping it around his back to run imperceptible shapes and lines. "Me too."
~-~-~-~-~-~
"I believe it's for you," Sam slurs out, bottle tipping from side to side as he reenters the room where Cooper and Pete are consorting about how to cheat best against "Mark The Shark".
"Addie," Mark grins. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Can you come home soon?" She asks, still shaken from her run-in with Pierce. Who, against her advice spent the better portion of the last hour reciting all the ways he loved her sister, and slouching against the wall while she tried to support them both. She's had enough for the day.
"You okay?" He reaches for her stomach and she deflects his hands before he can even get close.
"They're fine, I just...was wondering."
"Come join us," he proposes and grabs her trembling, cold fingers.
"No, I'm not in the mood...to be one of the guys right now," she declines.
"Happy Addison is gone?" He questions sadly. She nods and he bitterly pushes just a bit further. "She was kind of fake anyway though so what's it matter, right?"
"Mark-"
"I don't want you to pretend with me!" he yells, gathering the attention of the other players and drawing a few weary eyes. "We said we would do this together, you said you wanted-"
"I do want you and...us...I didn't...I don't," she clarifies, "want to lose you again."
"You aren't going to."
"I just figured enough is enough," Addison discloses, her voice discernibly lower than her counterparts, who she suspects is merely looking for a reason to argue. "I want to be happy."
"Yeah." He pulls her a little closer, not noticing when she slides her head to his shoulder. "We'll get to the happy part, I promise."
"Ok," she grins, more relieved that the charade doesn't have to continue any longer than about ever being happy again. It'll never be the same as it was and the constant sadness isn't so bad. She almost enjoys it there. It's easy to know what to do and though screwed up, it works for her.
"Come be my helper," he tugs on her dark blue shirt. "We'll show them how it's done."
"Only a few hands," she bargains.
"They don't have much left to lose," he grins and points to their dwindling chip piles.
"Addison!" Cooper shouts with glee.
"Hey wait, no cheating Sloan. No hiding cards up her sleeves," Pete whines into his beer bottle, attempting not to notice Addison's red cheeks and tear stung eyes. He can't help it, his heart tugs a little anyway.
"We both know I don't need that kind of help," Mark says cockily while Sam reshuffles and deals. He tightens his hold on the redhead in his lap and settles down to deal with life's new developments. All in all, he's neither surprised nor disappointed. And he thinks that, in itself, should say something.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"We have to do something! We can't just sit around and hope it all works out!" Mark nearly screams through her house, later that week, still concerned with Ellie's impending departure. She wasn't at the office this week, and though Naomi assures him it's just because Pierce got unexpected time off, he doesn't believe her.
"I can't do this," Addison says back, half asleep, still cuddled around a pillow on the couch. She was awoken from her pleasant nap ten minutes ago when the front door slammed and Mark started ranting on and on about how he is a shitty father. For her part, she's done a lot of halfhearted glaring and idle threats.
"They should be with us Addison. We can take care of them,"
"We," she motions between them, "can't even take care of ourselves right now. What makes you think a judge-"
"Maybe we don't go that route," Mark says instantly, and yes, he has been thinking about this non-stop for five days.
"What do you mean, we don't go that route?" Addison asks suspiciously but still undisturbed enough to close her eyes.
"Maybe we just ask him," Mark shrugs convinced.
"Maybe we just ask him? To what? Surrender his children to our incapable hands for the rest of their lives?"
"He said it. He said he never wanted to be a father-"
"Be that as it may, it's not our place to take it away from him."
"He's unfit!" Mark resorts to yelling again. He can't comprehend why she doesn't get this.
"And I will be too," she tells him quietly.
"Addie no." He acts on impulse and drop his knees to the carpet, searching for a hand to hold under the tightly knitted strings. "You will be great, I know you will."
"When I'm not? What happens then? Are you going to take my kids and run off?"
"No," he answers befuddled by her reaction. When did this turn into them against one another? "That's not...Addison, we need to help those kids."
"Since when do you care two licks about children? You always say they are loud and annoying and you hope they all die in stroller related accidents."
"You're embellishing just a touch there," he fixes. "And I don't know...I just know they shouldn't be with him."
She throws the blanket off her legs, and over his head, before standing and grabbing her purse of the kitchen counter.
"Where are you going?"
"Hospital," she answers honestly. "I forgot to sign off-"
"Have someone else do it," he instructs angered by her retreat.
"Can't, plus I'm on call today and I should probably check up on a few things."
"Addison! We are having a discussion." He chases her to the back door and out into the green plants that line the walkway to the garage.
"It's not really a discussion Mark, it's more you yelling at me and not listening when I say that I can't."
"You won't even try."
"I tried!" She spins around suddenly, letting him figure out the direction change. "I tried for months and I'm no good so really, this "discussion" is just about over." Admitting failure, at anything, is right up there with watching patients die helplessly on her list of things in life to loathe.
"Addie," he pouts, grabbing her arm and holding firmly.
"Let go Mark. I'm warning you. It's better that I leave right now." She yanks her own hand free and quickly unlocks the car, driving away as soon at the garage door opens all the way.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Dr. Montgomery?" The small brunette nurse behind her squeaks.
"Yes?" Addison spins around, chart in hand, with a scowl still on her face from the fight hours ago.
"You're..." her voice drops lower, "you're wet." She points toward the dark scrubs, freshly dampened.
"Oh," Addison swallows nervously. "Thank you...Nurse...excuse me." She bolts for the nearest empty room, ignoring the frightened calls asking if she needs assistance, and begins to untie the drawstring on her pants with a silent prayer. "Oh...no. No, no, no." She whips them back up around her waist again, not wanting an untimely meeting with a co-worker and begins flinging open drawers searching for the right medication. Upon finding it, she forces three breaths in, now finally feeling what she assumed was nothing more than back pain all week.
"Montgomery, you're scaring the living daylights out of my staff- What are you doing?" Charlotte demands, Addison's back turned and blocking the view of her expertly inserting her own IV into the back of her hand. She squeezes her eyes shut tight with the pinch and then exhales loudly. "Montgomery, you better not be pulling stunts," Charlotte storms, marching over to the other side of the bed and catching Addison with a syringe between her teeth. "What the hell are you doing?" She holds her hand out for Addison to spit the needle into.
"I...need that," Addison explains, still refusing to think like anything other than a doctor.
"Why?"
"Preterm," she gestures to her pants embarrassed at her lack of ability to time things.
"You're water broke on my hallway floor?" Charlotte glowers.
"I'm bleeding," Addison makes clear and then grabs the medicine back hastily.
"Gimme that," Charlotte demands and pushes her against the upright bed. She jams her thumb onto the redhead's wrist and whips out a blood pressure cuff before there is rebuff. "Relax, Montgomery. Soon you'll have a bevy of idiots waiting for you out there."
"It's too soon. I can't...you need to...please," she closes her eyes against the raging pain and clinches her teeth together.
"What is this anyway?" Charlotte asks, holding the concoction to her new patient's hand.
"Magnesium sulfate, what do you think it is? Morphine?"
"Never know, that's what I'd want," Charlotte pushes the liquid in hesitantly, waiting for a code blue to happen, but relaxes when Addison does. "Who do I need to call?"
"No one," Addison replies without thought. "Just, give me an hour in here. I need an hour."
"You're a moron. Who is your doctor?"
Addison squishes her head back down against the standard issue pillow and slides onto her left side. "Charlotte, you don't get to be the best in your field by being a moron. I said I need an hour...to relax and hydrate. There's nothing I'm doing that will further complicate-"
"This could be serious, you should at least be hooked up to a fe-"
"Preterm labor happens in over fifty percent of all twin pregnancies. I do this for a living. Now get out and turn off the lights," she waves a hand at the door and holds her breath as the short blond scampers off.
She figures she has twenty minutes before Mark shows up (because Charlotte will cover her own ass first and foremost) with his lid blown completely off and right now, as her daughters pound away on her ribs in obvious distress, she needs those twenty minutes to reassess and assemble a plan.
She's not ready.
~-~-~-~-~-~