A/N: Thank you, thank you, for waiting so patiently on this story. I was feeling a little stuck, wanting an interlude but also wanting to continue the main storyline, and it resulted in a little writer's block. So here is the interlude I dithered over. It's a Maddison interlude, a hugely long one, told from alternating Mark and Addison perspectives before their Shepherd reunion. After all this time writing them from a distance, it was interesting getting into their heads, and I hope I did them justice. They've had a hard time of it, but I think a hallmark of Mark and Addison in canon and in this story is that they never really make things easy, for themselves or each other. But I think there's a lot of love there and I wanted to explore their family life with Vivian before Addison's illness took center stage. I hope you enjoy and that you'll let me know what you think. Next chapter is back to the main storyline and the Shepherd family + Viv barbecue.

INTERLUDE

fidelity
...

"Mommy!"

She hears Vivian's joyful cry before she sees her – and then her daughter separates from the throng of little girls in matching blue plaid jumpers and runs down the path.

Addison crouches to catch her in an embrace, holding her tightly for a moment.

"You aren't supposed to be here!" Viv pulls back, grinning. "Where's Needa?"

"Needa has the afternoon off."

"But how come you're not at work?"

"Because I have the afternoon off too." Addison smiles at her daughter.

"You didn't tell me!"

"Well, I wanted to surprise you." Addison kisses her cheek and Viv throws her arms back around her mother's neck.

"So … is it a good surprise?" she asks her daughter.

"It's a great surprise," Viv says happily.

Addison stands up carefully on the leather riding boots that, along with the leaves she crunched crossing Park Avenue, always just feel like autumn. She rests a hand on the top of her daughter's head and watches Viv's gaze travel to the middle of her mother's body.

"Is she okay?" Viv asks quietly.

"She's okay, sweetheart." Addison strokes her daughter's cheek. "She's doing great, Vivi, please don't worry about her."

Vivian nods, but she doesn't look entirely convinced.

"What do you think," Addison proposes, hoping her light tone will rub off on her daughter. "Is it too cold for ice cream?"

"No!" Viv smiles broadly.

"Okay, good. You ready? Where's your jacket and your backpack?"

"Over there." Vivian points.

Addison nods to the dismissal team keeping an eye on the rest of the kindergarteners while Vivian collects the green canvas backpack that sometimes looks bigger than she does.

"No jacket." Viv pulls away when Addison holds out the little blue quilted coat.

"It's windy, sweetheart."

"Nuh-uh."

Addison sighs, but relents, taking Viv's small hand in hers. Vivian waves goodbye to the gathered little girls with her other hand and trots quickly beside her mother.

"Mommy," she says as Addison pushes through the heavy iron gates. "There's no school tomorrow."

"I know, Viv. Tomorrow or Friday, right?"

"Yeah." Vivian considers this, sounding a little disappointed. "Can Sutton come over tomorrow?"

"Maybe Friday instead," Addison suggests. "Daddy's going to stay home tomorrow."

"He is?" Viv's excited tone makes her smile. "To play with me?"

"Exactly."

They stop at the corner, waiting for the light to change. Vivian pokes at a pile of leaves with one little foot. She's wearing tights and the same little shoes as her classmates, the ones that look like mary janes but have sneaker-style soles, letting her run around with athletic support to her heart's content.

A fall breeze skates over them, lifting a few of the crumpled leaves. Addison shivers and sees Vivian do the same.

This time, she doesn't complain when her mother holds out her coat. Addison pulls Vivian's long braids carefully from the collar and buttons it to her throat.

"No, Mommy," Viv pulls at the neck of her coat. "It's too tight. Needa never does that one."

Well, I do. Addison starts to respond, then thinks better of it and just undoes the button. "Better?"

Viv nods.

Addison takes her little hand; the light's changed, and it's time to move.

It's good that Vivian adores her nanny, and that the feeling is mutual. It's what Addison wants, of course, for her daughter to be happy and secure and well cared for. Needa's grown children are successful and satisfied, lovely, a mark of the unflappable woman's ability to nurture and direct, but still, sometimes …

Well. It's silly.

And Mark never seems bothered by it. He's endlessly patient with Vivian. "Needa's not here right now," he'll say casually if Viv protests, and turn her upside down or tickle her sides to make her laugh.

"It's cold!" Viv's squeezes her eyes shut against another gust of wind.

"Told you," Addison teases her lightly, touching the tip of her chilled nose. "Still want ice cream?"

Vivian nods enthusiastically

They end up at Kismet, which has been around since Addison was a child and has become something of a vacation-day tradition for them. If she squints she can remember coming here with her father once, swinging her legs under the table and delighting in the sweet treat while a pretty lady she didn't recognize talked to her father.

They share the shop's signature frozen hot chocolate, sitting next to each other on elaborately wrought soft chairs.

Viv sighs with ecstasy at her first spoonful.

"Good?"

"So good." Viv smiles at her. "I like when you pick me up at school," she adds, and Addison feels her heart swell with love.

"Me too, sweetheart."

"When Faith is born," Vivian says casually, "who's gonna take care of her, you or Needa?"

… and then her stomach twists again. "I'm going to take some time off work when she's born," Addison says carefully, glad Mark isn't there to hear them talking like this, "just like I did when you were born."

"You did?"

Addison nods. "I did." It was a magical three months, another golden autumn, a time of confusion, anxiety, change … and the greatest joy of her life.

"Did Needa help when I was born?"

"Needa wasn't there yet, sweetheart, not until you were a few months old."

"Oh." Viv pauses. "How did you find her, again?"

"Needa found us, actually." Addison smiles at her. She knows Viv knows the story, but she doesn't mind retelling it. "It was Christmastime and you and I were walking past Lord & Taylor, and I stopped to look in the window at the Christmas display. I was wearing you right here." She touches her heart, "in your carrier, but you turned your head and Needa was there looking in the window too and she said you were so cute you looked like you should be in the display."

Viv beams at the familiar story. "Was I?" she asks.

"You were very cute." Addison smiles at the memory. Viv treasures going back to the Christmas windows at Lord & Taylor every year, and so does Addison. It's remarkable, really, how quickly something becomes a tradition when there's a child involved.

"And I was bald," Viv adds happily.

"You sure were, and you were wearing a tiny little hat to keep that bald head warm. A hat with bunny ears."

"Do you still have it?"

"What, the hat?"

Viv nods.

"I'm sure we have it somewhere, with your baby things. Why do you ask?"

"So Faith can have it to wear when she's born," Viv says happily.

Addison's throat feels thick. For a moment, she can't respond. "It will be spring when Faith is born, honey," she says finally, softly.

"But she can wear it in the winter."

"That's right."

"Then what happened, Mommy? When Needa found us?" Viv asks, returning to the story.

Addison smiles at her daughter. "Well, we started chatting and then Needa told me she spent two years with a family who was going to be moving to San Francisco at the beginning of January, and … it was fate. Kismet," she adds.

"Kismet," Viv repeats, then digs her spoon back into the giant bowl of frozen hot chocolate.

Addison watches her daughter. Viv has been excited about Faith from the moment she found out. It's only been three weeks since that day,but Vivian seemed to pick up quickly on Mark's less than thrilled response to her enthusiasm.

Alone with Addison, though, she's wanted to talk about it at every opportunity since the first confirmation.

They ending up waiting until the eight-week ultrasound to tell her. It was a compromise of sorts. Mark wanted to wait until the ten-week, at least. But it was hard for Addison to keep the secret when Viv asked about it so often. And after one full-term and one half-term pregnancy, her stomach muscles are shot; she was showing visibly by her eighth week.

She asked, that's what Addison told Mark, defensively.

That was another disagreement.

She's going to get too attached, that's what Mark warned her, and she was so hurt at the implication that the attachment would lead to loss that she just walked away without a word. Even though they don't do that. He let her, giving her space, and then tracked her down to the kitchen. I just don't want her to get hurt, he said, and she accepted it.

Get too attached. What does that mean, anyway?

Attachment?

Is it what Viv insists on now, reading a story to her baby sister each night, one little hand resting on Addison's belly where their much-anticipated child is growing? We're not telling anyone else right now, they instructed Viv, gently but firmly, and she was so acquiescent that Addison felt a bitter taste of shame in her throat. She never wanted to raise a child so good at keeping secrets.

She never wanted to … but she has.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Vivian's brother should be here, fat and healthy and toddling around. Not tiny and buried and … he was so small but so perfectly formed, and she was already in the habit of talking to him so she just kept it up: It's you. I knew it was you. But you were alive only hours ago.

Julian. His name was Mark's idea; they used to listen to Hey, Jude, when Vivian was small and needed the kind of soothing lullaby everyone could stomach played ten or twelve times in a row.

Somehow, it seemed to fit perfectly.

Take a sad song, and make it better…

That was all they were left with, a sad song. A brief moment when Addison held both her children in her arms at once, before they said goodbye.

A brief moment of healing, for her body to knit back together, before she wanted to fill the hole in their family.

And then the arguments started.

Take some time to recover, that's what Mark said, let all of us recover. That night, she rolled over in bed and didn't look at him; he followed her to her side. Addison …

But he came with her anyway.

She won, as she was wont to, and winning was supposed to make her happy, but winning also she also had to look at Mark's haunted eyes during the procedure. He held her hand like he was supposed to, and said encouraging words.

And he didn't say I told you so when it didn't implant.

He did everything he was supposed to then, too: held her, assured her they could try again.

Except he was reluctant when they did.

He administered the injections she couldn't reach, alternated heat and ice to make them tolerable, didn't complain when the hormones left her sensitive and teary. Bloated.

And then finally, finally …

Faith.

Faith was her idea.

Have a little faith, Mark, she begged him, even though faith was something she wouldn't say either of them ever really clung to.

Faith.

She looks at Vivian's sweet face with her little upturned nose, sparkling blue eyes so much like Mark's. This strong and loving child, clever and funny and full of life, she grew inside of Addison just like Julian did. Except she stayed put, when she was supposed to.

Now it's your turn, Addison reminds her unborn daughter.

She rests a hand on her midsection, trying to keep the faith.

…

"Daddy!"

Viv is already running across the floor in red and white pajamas and fuzzy slippers as he pushes open the front door. He scoops her up.

"You're cold!" she says as he holds her against his trench coat.

"And you are nice and warm." He kisses her freckled cheek. "What are you still doing up?"

"It's not bedtime yet," she says indignantly.

"Hm." He sets her on her feet. "It's pretty close."

Addison joins them in the foyer, leaning in to kiss him. "Hi."

"Hey." He scans her quickly, as has become habit. She looks a little tired, but that's typical now. And she looks beautiful.

Addison always looks beautiful.

"How was Viv time?"

"Viv time was great." Addison smiles at him.

"Vivi," Mark turns to her, "are you ready for bed?"

She nods.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

Vivian bares a mouthful of sparkling little white teeth in response.

He pretends to wince, shielding his eyes. "I'm blind. Too clean."

Viv giggles in response.

Mark smiles down at her, then glances at Addison. She's a little pale. "I'll put Viv to bed," he tells her, and she doesn't protest.

Vivian does, though.

"I'm not tired," she insists angrily once Mark has hung up his coat and set down his bag and attempted to lead her upstairs by the hand. Finally he picks her up to ascend the stairs. She stops fighting him, just resting her pointed little chin on his shoulder.

"Can I sleep in your room?" she asks as they reach the second floor, her voice muffled by his shirt.

He cups the back of her head.

"Start out in your room, baby," he says as he carries her down the hall. "You can come in if you need us, you know that."

She leans back to see his face. "But what if you don't hear me?"

"We'll always hear you." He kisses the tip of Viv's upturned nose and then sits on the edge of her bed, worrying the ruffled coverlet in his hands, while she uses the bathroom and washes her hands, then takes her time picking out a book.

"You're gonna stay home tomorrow," Viv says, sounding significantly happier now. "With me. You're not working. Right?"

"Right." He draws the covers up over her.

She beams. "What are we going to do?"

"Hmm." Mark strokes his chin. "Let me think. How about … we scrub the floors … and then we can sweep the steps?"

"No," Viv giggles. "Like … something fun."

"Oh, something fun. Well, that's different." He smiles down at his daughter, stroking the side of her little freckled face. She looks sleepy and peaceful – even if her sleep itself isn't always peaceful – and he feels a rush of tenderness for her. Let's just enjoy her, that's what he told Addison, let's just enjoy our lives together and stop all the – but he never got to finish the sentence because she walked out, even though they don't walk out, and didn't speak to him for the rest of the night.

"Like the park," Vivian reminds him. "The playground. Or the museum if it's raining."

"Well," Mark says slowly, "if you really think that will be more fun than cleaning…"

Viv makes a face at him, then holds out her arms; he settles next to her to read. She's half asleep on his chest by the time the book is finished; he detangles himself carefully and sets her on her pillow before he kisses her goodnight. She blinks up at him sleepily.

"Night," she murmurs.

"Good night, Vivi." He strokes some of her hair away from her face. "We can do whatever you want tomorrow, baby. Get some sleep so you're ready for an adventure."

She nods, eyes drifting shut. "Where's Mommy?" she asks, opening her eyes again.

Avoiding me.

Mark just smiles at his daughter, preparing to tell her that her mother will come in to kiss her goodnight in a moment.

"She's right here," Addison says from the doorway, and Mark turns with surprise. Her expression is soft, and she brushes her fingers against his shoulder as she leans over to kiss Viv's smooth little forehead.

So she's not mad at him.

"Good night, sweetheart." Addison tucks Vivian's panda in more securely next to her, and then stands up, stroking some of their daughter's hair away from her little face in a similar gesture to his.

Mark follows Addison out of Viv's bedroom, and they close the door. Mark sets the motion-sensing alarm, feeling Addison's eyes on him as he does.

"She's going to grow out of this, right?"

Her nervous tone surprises him. "You did," he reminds her.

"Yeah." She looks down. "It's worse since Julian, though."

He can't deny it; that would be a lie. He wraps an arm around her instead.

"She'll be fine," he says, as much for himself as for Addison. "We have a system."

And they do, they've been able to control much of the disturbance with a series of timed wakings – it means no one in the house sleeps through the night, but it removes the fear that she'll get up and –

For a moment his stomach seizes as if it's happening again.

"Mark..." Addison touches his face gently.

He reorients himself, forcing a smile.

"She's sleeping," he says as he checks the portable green-screen monitor. Viv's already five years old, too old for a baby monitor, but the reassurance it brings that her sleep is peaceful feels worth the borderline invasion of privacy. At least for now.

He casts a hopeful glance toward their bedroom, but Addison is already heading down the stairs.

Following her, he winds up in the kitchen straightening up the remains of their day.

Truthfully, he loves these little moments with her; it's hard to feel tense about the big things, the frightening things, when they're rinsing impossibly small cups, or smiling over pictures Vivian drew. He's seen Addison in stunning black-tie gowns and in nothing at all but sometimes he thinks she's the prettiest of all laughing with him at the kitchen sink in soapy pink rubber gloves, telling him something funny their daughter did that day.

He takes over the dishes and tells her to go relax; she takes a cup of herbal tea into the living room.

By the time he joins her, there's a pale pink satin photo album open on her lap, and his stomach sinks.

"I'm just looking, Mark." Addison already sounds defensive and he hasn't even said anything yet.

No, you're not.

But he doesn't want to argue, and when she pauses on a picture of the three of them he sits down beside her.

She leans against him and he holds her carefully, running a hand over the softer curve of her side.

"She was so tiny." Addison laughs. "Can you believe – look at that," and then he's laughing too, because it's a picture of Mark wearing Vivian outward-facing on his chest in the park and there are fat pigeons mid-hop next to him that look bigger than their baby.

He's not immune to this … baby fever, whatever you want to call it, whatever he calls it when no one can hear him. Vivian is without a doubt the best thing that ever happened to him. After spending his twenties and nearly all of his thirties desperately avoiding getting a woman pregnant, he didn't expect to fall as head-spinningly, all-consumingly in love as he did with his child.

He was as eager as Addison for a second child, supporting her through egg retrieval and fertilization, painstakingly growing the embryos to find the strongest, each one of the five days more tense than the last. She was excited and calm, then, making jokes about storing up nuts for winter. He held her hand when they implanted the embryo that would take, the one that could have been their son.

He's glad Addison can't hear him think that.

Could have been. She'd hate that. Julian was their son, to her, and it's not that he doesn't agree – without Addison's experience in fetal milestones, he was surprised both by how developed the baby was at nineteen weeks and also how undeveloped, all at once.

But he doesn't want to upset her. She's tense from the hormones, emotional, still taking progesterone daily that she never complains about, but he can hear her wordless hisses, sometimes, during the injections.

It's not that he doesn't want another child. It's not. Or that he, too, doesn't feel some sense of … something, about the embryos they created together. He and Addison don't differ medically or even philosophically, not really. But Vivian, though. He looks at Vivian, who walks and talks and laughs at actual jokes now, has food preferences and little rituals of her own and grows every day. Vivian is a person. Faith … he has no doubt he'll love the baby growing from the embryo they implanted a few months ago. To have another daughter … a live, actual daughter, growing up alongside their first baby? The idea is almost magical. But it's an idea, still. Vivian is a person, but Faith is an idea.

Addison doesn't like it when he says things like that. They're not in competition, she told Mark once, and he couldn't bear to see the hurt that flickered in her blue eyes.

She's right, really,

But it's Addison who's steered the ship, who insisted Viv be permitted into the room to see Julian, to hold him. Who argued with Mark about when to tell Vivian about Faith – who started to cry when Mark, as gently as he could, suggested maybe they shouldn't name her so early.

And he gave in.

He always gives in.

Losing Julian was hard for all of them. But in Viv's world of first-time mothers at forty, even forty-five … she wasn't the only preschooler to lose a sibling that way. It was easy to find a child psychologist with experience in the area. No one was really surprised when the sleepwalking started again, but it's under control now.

Everything's under control now.

They're eleven weeks and three … no, two … days along.

Addison was back at work a week after she lost the pregnancy with Julian, making miracles for other women. And she's as involved with Vivian as she's always been. Both of them work, they always have, but one or both of them is always home to tuck Viv in at night. Addison is a little less physical these days, a bit more tired, but she's still tireless when it comes to reading with Viv, sharing stories while she brushes her long hair, listening to Viv tell her all about her day in that raspy little voice he loves so much.

No, it's not a competition between pregnancy and Viv. Viv isn't missing out.

He's the one who misses out.

Months that turned into years of hormone treatments – before, during, after – sometimes the ban came from the fertility doctors and sometimes it was just from Addison herself, but either way, a major part of their life together blinked out like a broken billboard.

And she was sensitive to that, he had to give her credit, and she even –

But look how that turned out.

"Mark." She nudges him, and her eyes are soft when he glances over. "You remember the bunny hat?"

He follows her finger to a photograph of an impossibly small Viv sleeping in her stroller, wearing a soft grey hat with two pink-lined bunny ears.

"Yeah." He tightens his arm a little, pulling Addison closer. "I remember the bunny hat."

…

She changes into pajamas in the bathroom off their bedroom, with the door closed.

It's silly, really, Mark has seen her body a thousand times, but it hasn't really felt like her body in a while now, the loose pocket of skin she couldn't quite change after Viv was born that seemed to fill back up in an instant when this pregnancy took. Nothing is where it used to be, everything's a little … looser, but that's normal.

It is. She's told hundreds of women how normal it is, over the course of her career.

Pregnancy, aging…

But Mark looks the same. Maybe she wouldn't notice as much if he didn't look the same, if he didn't look great, if middle age had settled around his middle the way it did hers.

He kept telling her she was beautiful, that he wanted her, but he was patient and understanding when she pushed him away again and again … sore and sensitive, or medically banned.

He's good to her.

But he's human, too.

And she doesn't miss the guilt in his familiar blue eyes when she leans in to kiss him goodnight, palms hesitant on her satin-covered hips. He touches her so carefully these days – she's always a little sore from a fresh injection, breasts tender from the hormones. She lies down next to him and curls into his side.

It won't always be like this, that's what she told him, and he said, I just want to enjoy our lives, and she was annoyed at that. As if she didn't want the same thing.

He's stroking her arm rhythmically now, soothing her.

"When Faith is born," she begins tentatively, and feels his muscles tense next to her. But she pushes on. "When Faith is born, I'll be back to … no more treatments, no more hormones." She rests a hand on his bare chest, hoping it transmits hope. "We'll be back to normal."

He doesn't say anything.

"Mark…" She moves her hand lower, touching the hard planes of muscle on his stomach. He shouldn't have to suffer, just because she –

But he catches her hand before he can move it any further down and brings it to his lips. Brushing her palm with a brief kiss, he sets her hand back on his chest.

She feels herself flushing a little, embarrassed. He seems to notice because she feels his lips against the crown of her head now.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"It's okay." He pulls her a little closer. "Go to sleep."

With his arms around her, it's easy to comply.

…

She wakes to Viv's raspy little voice in the doorway, and Mark's deeper one, in debate.

"Mommy always lets me wake her up," Viv is complaining.

"Not this morning. We're going to let her rest. Come downstairs with Daddy."

"I don't want to."

"Vivi…"

She can't make out their daughter's reply.

"Viv. Let's go."

Addison smiles a little into her pillow at the sound of stomping little feet grows more distant. She lies in bed for a few more minutes so as not to make that battle in vain, and then gets up to find her robe.

"We let you sleep," Viv announces when Addison makes her way down to the kitchen, giving Mark a traitorous glare.

"That was so sweet of you." Addison smiles at Viv but she goes to Mark's side first, leaning against him. "How much did you have to bribe her?" she teases.

Mark kisses her cheek. "Let's just say it's a good thing you got up when you did."

Addison accepts a steaming mug of decaf from her husband and then sits down in the breakfast nook across from Viv, who is staring dispiritedly into a bowl of porridge despite the liberal amount of honey lacing the top.

"I hate it," she says when she sees her mother looking.

"Viv." Addison shakes her head. "That's rude."

"I don't care for it," Viv says more politely, then frowns. "Daddy doesn't make it the right way."

"Thanks a lot." Mark tugs lightly on Viv's long hair, which is loose around her shoulders. She looks rather elfin under the cape of messy dark-blonde hair, and more than a little adorable, so Addison can't be too annoyed with her blunt comments.

"That's not very nice, Vivi," she chastises anyway, mildly.

Viv takes her critique in stride. "Can I have pancakes instead?"

"No," Addison says just as Mark says, "sure."

Addison glances up at him and he shrugs. "She has to eat something," he points out.

"But …" Addison stops, deciding it's more important to back him up than to protest, just nodding instead.

"And hot chocolate," Viv presses, apparently sensing her victory; Addison glances at her daughter. Vivian's blue eyes, so much like Mark's, are sparkling.

"Fine," Addison sighs, resting a hand on Mark's arm, "you're going to be the one dealing with her sugar high this morning, so it's your call."

"True." He doesn't seem too bothered by the prospect. "Heat up the milk, will you?" He's already cracking eggs into a bowl.

The pancakes are a hit, and when Viv thanks them both delightedly, Addison feels a pang of guilt for the very momentary urge she had to make Vivian eat the porridge instead.

She still remembers being served the same bowl of increasingly congealed porridge by a strict nanny irritated that she refused to eat it; at the time, she was devastated, only finishing it when Archer sneaked in to help, but looking back now she realizes she must have seemed horribly spoiled to the young woman tasked with looking out for her.

Addison takes a sip of the hot chocolate that Vivian, predictably, lost interest in after the first swallow. Viv's never had a particularly large appetite; her palate is varied for a child's, through angled toward sweetness, and most of the time neither she nor Mark engages in power struggles over food. Mark surprised her at first with his domesticity – she knew him, well, before their relationship turned intimate, but she'd never lived with him outside of sporadic weekends at the beach. He cooked for both of them on occasion, even enjoyed heating things up in the oversized oven. He pretends not to and she pretends not to notice; it's just one of their unspoken agreements.

"… and Chloe and Hiroko both have loose teeth." Viv has been telling them a long story about the dental adventures of her classmates; now she touches her own bottom teeth experimentally. "And Schuyler lost one, like it actually came out."

"Vivi." Addison brushes her hand gently down from her mouth. "Not at the table, sweetheart."

"And then the tooth fairy came," Viv continues, unbothered by the correction. "When am I going to lose a tooth?"

"We don't know, baby." Mark slides in next to Addison. "Everyone loses their teeth at different times. When they're ready."

"Oh." Viv's hand creeps back toward her mouth, then she glances at Addison and lowers it. "But maybe today?"

Mark reaches for what's become a communal cup of hot chocolate and takes a sip, then makes a face, presumably at the sweetness. "Maybe, Vivi, you never know."

His blackberry buzzes then and he glances at it, frowning when he sees the screen.

"Mark?"

"Give me a second, I need to call in."

He disappears around the corner.

Viv turns back to her mother. "You going to work, Mommy?"

"I am, Vivi, but I have a few more minutes." She smiles at her daughter. "What are you going to do with Daddy today?"

"Not clean," Viv says.

"That sounds fair. Are you finished with your breakfast, sweetheart?"

Viv nods.

"Take your dishes over to the sink." Addison eases herself out of the inset booth; Viv hops out with ease and carries her plate and silverware to the sink, climbing onto the little stool she needs to place into the deep basin.

"Thank you." Addison runs water, freeing a hand to stroke Vivian's hair. "Go brush your teeth, honey."

"Okay." Viv pauses. "You're not gonna leave yet, right?"

"No, not without saying goodbye."

Viv nods, satisfied, and then bounds toward the staircase.

Addison starts to leave the kitchen just as Mark walks back in.

…

"Everything okay?" Addison scans his face.

"Yes and no." He sighs, with that unfortunately familiar feeling that she's not going to like what he has to say. "I need to head into the hospital."

"Oh, Mark…"

"I know. I'm sorry." He shakes his head.

"Vivi's going to be disappointed."

"I know," he repeats, "but it's only for a few hours." He gives her a pleading look; her face is blank, lips pressed together. "Addie, do you think maybe you can …"

"I don't know." She glances at her own blackberry. "I have an office morning, but still…"

"Maybe Sutton?"

"New nanny." Addison sighs. "I don't know that she's ready for three kids, much less four."

"We can call –"

"It's okay. I'll, uh, I'll figure it out. I'll stay."

"Really?" He breathes a sigh of relief. "That's great."

"Great," she repeats, sounding a little annoyed.

"Addison." He shakes his head, guilt tugging at the corners of his mind. "Loeffler was delayed in Chicago and he needs to me to cover. I can't really do anything about it."

She doesn't respond, just walks deeper into the kitchen, seemingly looking for something to do with her hands.

"When's your first patient?"

She folds a dishtowel with quick movements. "Two-thirty."

"I'll be home by one," he assures her. "One-fifteen, the latest."

She nods. "All right. I have to call Louise."

Viv pads toward the kitchen as Addison steps out with her phone. He's heading for the stairs to go change; Vivian, who has always been so perceptive, picks up on it immediately. "Daddy? Where are you going?"

"I have to go to work, baby. I'm sorry." He lifts her up and kisses her cheek.

"But you said you were gonna stay with me." She leans back in his arms and puts her little hands on his face. "I don't have school today," she reminds him.

"I know, Vivi." He moves his head enough to nip her fingers and she giggles. "I'd much rather stay with you, believe me. But I have to go to work, and it's just for a little while. Mommy's going to stay with you this morning and I'll be back this afternoon to hang out with you. Okay?"

Vivian considers this for a moment. "Okay."

He changes fast and heads back down the stairs. Addison and Viv are sitting together on the window seat, looking out at the pouring rain.

"Yuck," Viv says.

"You can say that again." Mark holds out his arms.

"Yuck," Vivian repeats, and giggles as Mark lifts her up for a kiss.

"Take good care of Mommy," he tells her as he sets her down.

Viv pushes at him, laughing. "You're silly," she protests, "I don't take care of Mommy, Mommy takes care of me."

"Either way," he shrugs, and then can't keep a straight face anymore. Viv's serious expression is cracking him up. "Be good, okay? And I'll see you later. Both of you," he adds, straightening up to kiss Addison goodbye.

Her face is impassive.

"All three of you," he corrects quietly, for Addison's benefit, and her face softens, just as he knew it would.

…

"Mommy … it's still raining." Viv is staring out the window. "It's pouring."

"The old man is snoring," Addison adds, making her daughter smile.

They've whiled away an hour already reading together, cuddled on the couch under a soft knitted blanket, but Vivian is getting restless. Wind blows wet leaves against the thick glass, skinny branches battering the sides of the house.

"When can we go out?"

"When it's not a monsoon."

"What's a monsoon?"

Addison stands up slowly, stretching. "A really big rainstorm," she says, "bigger than the one we're having now."

"Oh." Viv considers this. "Can I have a piggyback ride?" She already has one small foot on the arm of the couch, reaching her arms up.

"Not right now, honey. I'm a little tired."

"You're a little tired a lot," Vivian observes, not sulkily, just … musing, it seems, but Addison is flooded with guilt anyway.

"Well." She takes Viv's hand in hers, encouraging her off the couch to walk beside her. "Then it's a good thing Daddy is around to give you piggyback rides, isn't it? He's never tired."

"Yeah. He gives good ones." Viv smiles up at her. "Mommy … can I have some hot chocolate?"

"You didn't drink the one I made you this morning," Addison reminds her gently, but it's hard to say no to Viv's little face.

"I'll warm up what's left," Addison compromises, and gets a toothy smile in return.

In the kitchen, she microwaves the cold mug while her daughter stalks the floors looking for something to do; a restless Viv is historically a naughty Viv, so she keeps an eye on her, massaging an ache in her lower back as she does so.

Vivian plays with a magnet on the fridge until it falls, then quickly picks it up and puts it back, and then pokes at the base of the cordless phone on the counter.

"Vivi…"

Vivian ignores her and heads for the desk by the window, moving slowly as if to dare Addison to stop her.

"Viv, don't touch," Addison reminds her calmly.

Viv pauses with one little hand extended toward her father's desk, apparently considering how much she wants to push it. Finally, she drops her hand.

"Can we play Monopoly?" Viv stands on her toes, mincing carefully across the kitchen floor.

Addison's first instinct with that game is a deep, heartfelt internal cringe, but actually with the lousy weather and her own exhaustion, a potentially endless board game has its perks. "Sure, sweetheart. Go get it."

Viv's little feet patter out of the kitchen and over the few steps up, down, into the family room.

The microwave beeps loudly.

She reaches for the door handle and then freezes.

The microwave beeps again.

Something's wrong.

She can feel it.

Something's wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

She feels it deep down before she's truly aware, some leftover dark animal sense, and her vision blurs with it as she grasps the side of the kitchen counter. Words that don't quite link up move through her mind.

Call.

Phone.

Help.

Beep. The microwave is still going, warning her that it's finished.

She needs to call someone.

Beep.

She needs help.

Beep.

Her phone is …

A wave of pain washes over her.

Her phone is always close by, for her patients, but it's – there it is, she just needs –

Call someone.

but there's a code – and then the phone slips from her shaking fingers onto the floor. Miles away.

Help.

The microwave beeps loudly again.

The kitchen spins in return.

Help me.

"Mommy?" Vivian's feet slap the floor, she hears a clatter, the skittering of game pieces across the hardwood. "Mommy, what's wrong?"

"Vivi," she pants, her daughter's anxious little face blurring, "no, it's okay, baby, I'm okay," and she feels another gush of wetness that tells her she's not, oh god she's not, and she prays

have faith

to anyone who's listening

imagine having that much faith

to protect her daughter.

"Mommy? Mommy, what should I do?" Viv's panicked little voice is breaking what's left of her heart.

"Call … it's okay, just … I just need you to ..."

It's taking every effort to get the words out but she can't tell if they make sense and she can't quite see, either. She blinks and then she's seeing, but too much. Double.

Two little Vivians are pulling the cordless phone from the base. "Call who? Daddy?"

She wants to answer, but talking is too hard.

"Mommy, call who?" Vivian is starting to cry now. "Who should I call?"

Standing is hard too.

Hard, too.

Too hard.

"Mommy?"

Too much.

The last thing she hears before the room goes dark is Vivian's terrified cry.

"Mommy!"

Reviews are truly appreciated. I started out wanting to write something fluffy about their family before sadness took over, but I realize that their lives - and life, y'know? - is both fluff and sadness, and I wanted this chapter to have both. You may notice some old threads from previous chapters and some new things that aren't quite fleshed out yet and may be revisited later. I appreciate all of you and hope you will review because I absolutely love hearing from you. Thank you!

PS - lovers of Maddison, I know you'll know exactly why I chose this song title. Sniff.