Chapter 21. Cannonball

The days, even non-work ones, are long and busy. Mark and Addison transition through a whitewashed, frigid January to an equally cold but somehow more tolerable February, leaving behind the first six months of pregnancy and hurtling closer to the anticipated arrival of their daughter.

They power through two more mostly-bearable dinners with their parents. The grandparents gifted them a stroller which retails for over a thousand dollars (Mark and Addison have never been stingy about dropping money on luxury items, but the stroller is too excessive and ostentatious even for them. They plan to take a few photos of the baby in the stroller for the elder Montgomerys and Sloans, and then resume utilizing a more reasonably priced stroller they possess), as well as some smocked dresses and gowns for the baby that are absolutely gorgeous (but impractical in that all it will take to ruin them is one diaper blowout).

Another social event that took place in February was a "very small, no-new-friends gathering" at work for Addison with a few neonatal and peds doctors and nurses she is closest with. She flat out refused to have a work baby shower (or a family/friends shower, for that matter) when Nurse Charlene asked her about it, but the two of them, and Addison's other closest colleague, Doctor Josie Morales, went round after round before Addison finally relented and agreed to a "very small, no-new-friends gathering" in an abandoned conference room at the end of a workday. Charlene and Josie were true to their promises, and made sure there was a lot of food, but zero decorations, zero wear a blindfold and guess what this baby food is games, zero opportunities to write down parenting advice on notecards, and no one came anywhere near Addison with a string to guess the size of her baby bump. The co-hosts did, however (thanks to Mark's willingness to scrounge up some photos at their request), create a small framed collage of photos of Mark and Addison as babies for everyone to look at. Addison found that she couldn't be annoyed about this unexpected detail because one, she hadn't expressly said this couldn't be done, and two, it is hard to be grumpy when people are fawning over baby photos of you and your partner and proclaiming how incredibly cute your offspring will be. And although Addison said no gifts, she was truly touched by the thoughtfulness of her colleagues and delighted to accept a nursing pillow, play mat, everything she would need for breastfeeding (all green-pen items, and she knew Mark was happy to pass this section of the list off to someone else), and lots of onesies and adorable outfits (none specifically green-pen, but Addison's colleagues know her well enough to know what she would give a thumbs-up to style-wise).

Life is good though. They are happy. Addison is happy, which is significant for her in that she definitely wasn't remotely happy this time a year ago. She is certain, actually, that she has never been this happy before, even though she is also certain she has never been this exhausted before either. She feels the tiredness whirr through every part of her due to typical pregnancy aches, but also because of the recent whirlwind of planning for this next stage in life, having to muscle through social things and human interaction in general when there is nothing she craves more than sleep, and the fact that her job isn't always easy (she has just reached thirty-two weeks and intends to work for another three).

But, still. She knows that even though everything going on guarantees she collapses into bed at the end of each day and wakes up never quite fully-rested, getting to fall asleep cuddled next to her boyfriend is just about the loveliest, most wonderful thing she has ever experienced.

Addison starts to feel that the arrival of their daughter is the only thing left that could possibly manage to make this life of hers more perfect and more meaningful than it already is.

-

"Do you want me to tell him? I can take this one," Josie offers once the baby they delivered – stable, thankfully – is wheeled off to the NICU for extra observation as a precaution. Addison appreciates the kindness in this gesture from her fellow attending (Josie is a nice person anyway, but she has two young kids, so she knows firsthand it's never easy to deliver news like this when your pregnancy hormones are an albatross around your neck, plus the guilt of having to tell an expectant father his pregnant fiancé is dead when you yourself are very visibly pregnant). Addison shakes her head as she tugs off her scrub cap. She suggests they just do it together.

"Brandon. Your daughter is doing well. Healthy and beautiful," Addison begins when they approach the distraught-looking father in the waiting area. He had stood the second he saw them. Addison notes he has a tear-shaped droplet of blood on one of his shoes from the lead-up to the severe placental abruption that brought the mother into the OR this morning after being transported by ambulance. "We were able to get the baby out in time. She should be fine, but we're going to monitor her closely for a bit – Doctor Morales can take you up to see her in a moment."

"Okay. Okay," Brandon responds, breathing heavily. His face is shiny with perspiration and his eyes are red-rimmed. "Thank you. My…my fiancé though? Is she…is she…?"

Addison sighs tensely. This part never, never gets easier. She thinks sometimes that it actually gets harder. "Grace had what's called an amniotic fluid embolism. It's rare, but very serious. It's when fluid enters the bloodstream, and that combined with the placental abruption…I'm so sorry, Brandon. We did everything we could, but she didn't make it. Her bleeding was out of control, and after we got the baby out, she went into cardiac arrest. We tried, but couldn't bring her back. We're so sorry."

Go, Josie mouths to her colleague when Brandon starts crying into his hands, gut-wrenching, scene-stealing sounds that reverberate through the waiting area and leave Addison breathless. Go, Josie mouths again as she places a hand on the grieving man's shoulder. Addison does not waste another second. She curls her hands around her stomach as she walks quickly down the hall. She makes it to a staff bathroom in time to empty the contents of her stomach for the first time in four months. This time, though, she knows it has it has nothing to do with morning sickness.

-

Addison toes quietly into the kitchen, watching as Mark absently scans the contents of the fridge in search of something for dinner (she appreciates his commitment to looking, but assumes in a few minutes he will give up and start browsing takeout menus and scrolling through delivery apps). Anxiety bubbles in her stomach while he continues to pick over the shelves.

"Hey, Mark?"

"Yeah," he responds distractedly as she walks over to the other side of the open fridge door.

She swallows nervously. "I wanted to talk about…um…if something were to happen to me when I have the baby, it's okay for you to eventually move on to, you know, someone else. I don't want you to feel like you'd have to be a single dad forever."

Mark tenses and his eyes freeze on some strawberries in the fruit bin. He is too stunned at this statement to bring himself to turn and face her. "What?"

"I'm just saying that if something were to happen to me…"

He can feel King's Landing-loud bells of panic sounding off in his head, and Addison's words seem muddled to him as she continues to ramble. The very idea of her dying, of her not being here, is just unfathomable and makes it hard to breathe. "Addie, please don't -"

"I'm just saying it's okay to find someone else. I would want you to. It's –"

"Addison, stop it," Mark snaps, closing the fridge door harder than intended. He regrets it immediately, knowing there is no way the harshness of his tone did not hurt her feelings, and more significantly, given the underlying anxiety she continues to cart around in the margins of her life, she for damn sure does not need or deserve to be yelled at or startled like that.

"Wait. Addie, please wait," he catches her by the wrist when she dejectedly attempts to move away. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean to yell. It's just that the thought of losing you…I'm sorry, Red."

"It's okay," she responds, allowing Mark to wrap his arms around her waist from behind. The devastation in his voice is apparent. "I know you didn't mean…I'm okay…it's okay…" she manages to gasp out, but then promptly bursts into tears, squeezing out rough, high-pitched sobs.None of it is okay.

"Addison," he says gently, turning her around in his arms. "Talk to me. Where is this coming from? Did you -"

"I lost a patient this morning," she answers the beginning of his question while she weeps into his chest.

"A baby?"

"No. The m-mom. Amniotic fluid embolism. It's rare, but often fatal. And Josie and I tried so hard…"

"I know. I know you did. And I'm sorry. Is the baby okay…?"

Addison nods, providing the details she has kept with her all day. She sniffles, wiping at her nose. "Yeah. I want to monitor her for a few days, but she'll be fine, other than being a half-orphan. Healthy and strong. And beautiful. Sadie Grace. Grace was the mother's first name. I just…that poor father. I feel so awful for him and the baby. And I…I just…Mark, I don't want to die," she says, starting to cry harder again.

"I'm sorry about your patient. And I'm sorry for how much it's hurting you," Mark kisses the top of her head. "But hey, you're going to be fine, Addison. You're not going to die when you deliver Pickle. I know…I know the birth part is nerve-wracking and obviously today didn't help, but you have an awesome doctor and I'll be there the entire time. There's no reason to think you won't have a safe childbirth experience. Everything will be okay. Try to believe that."

"'Kay," she mumbles, rubbing at her eyes. "The rational part of my brain knows that. It was just…a really, really tough day."

"Yeah, I know. Let's go sit down and I'll massage your shoulders."

"You don't have to…"

He shakes his head at Addison's attempt to dismiss this offer. "Oh, I absolutely do. I lost my temper with my pregnant girlfriend," he walks with her to the living room, and helps her get settled on the couch next to him.

"I know you didn't mean to. It was just the subject, because I…well, I don't want to contemplate losing you either."

Mark moves her hair over one of her shoulders and presses a long, feather-soft kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, working to steady himself. "Love you, honey," he murmurs when he feels more in control.

"Love you too, honey. And again…" Addison giggles after she hears Mark grumble in protest. "You have nothing in writing about pet names, Mark. I can be a copycat if I want to."

-

"I can keep going," Mark offers later when she twists around, rolling back her shoulders to break contact with his hands. "You're entitled to at minimum a half hour of this, you know."

"It's okay. I'd actually rather just cuddle with you," she admits quietly.

Addison appreciates that he is unfailingly patient when it comes to her figuring out what positions work best for her at the moment (most do not) to ensure maximum comfort, and they ultimately shift over to the chaise section of the sofa. Mark stretches his legs out along its length, and she curls up in his lap, feeling safe and comfortable from a combination of his arms knotted around her and the back cushions nestled behind her. She rests against him, focusing on taking slow, calming breaths while his hands trace soothing patterns on her back.

"You sure you're okay?" Mark asks, brushing some loose waves away from her face. "I feel like such an ass for snapping at you. And for slamming the fridge door. I…I hope I didn't scare you."

"You didn't. I'm okay, Mark," she nuzzles her nose into his neck, a gentle assurance. "I promise."

"Okay. Good. Hey, Addie? I think we should talk about – I think it's time to start your maternity leave."

She shakes her head. "I'm not ready though. I'm planning to work at least another three weeks. I'm strong enough to do that, Mark. This morning was just a rough one and I'm feeling it right now."

"I know you're strong enough. But I'm not, Addison."

"What?"

"Please consider doing this for me. Because I worry. Yes, you're strong, but you're also tired and you have a stressful, emotionally-charged job, and you're very, very pregnant right now. Look, if you want to keep working, I'll support you one-hundred percent, but please just think about starting your leave. It would mean a lot to me."

"You worry about me?"

"Of course. I love you," Mark kisses the top of her head. "Kind of comes with the territory, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but you're not just being, like…manipulative?" Addison asks, and he raises an eyebrow in a way that evokes both confusion and a bit of offense. She circles a hand around Mark's wrist, her touch delicate and apologetic. "Sorry. I don't mean 'manipulative' in like a sociopathic way. More in a selfless way. I'm probably not explaining this well…I just mean that we both know I'm trying my best, but I'm still a little fragile sometimes. And I think you're trying to make sure I don't feel guilty about starting my leave earlier than I wanted to. So therefore you want me to think I'm just doing this for you, not for me."

"Well, first off: the keyword there is sometimes. You're sometimes fragile because you went through something pretty fucking traumatic last year and you're pregnant and your entire job is basically being in the vaginal trenches with high-risk pregnancies and fragile newborns. And yeah, you're also strong, Addison; that's not lost on me, but I'd worry no matter how you're feeling. Your health and happiness matter to me. I want you to be well."

"Okay," she presses her lips together and reluctantly offers a nod. "I…I know you're just trying to help. It's just hard to admit to needing help sometimes. You're right though; it's time to pack it in, because it's not going to get any easier in the coming weeks, and truthfully it's becoming a lot more difficult to lean over an operating table with Pickle in the way. I'll…I'll talk to the chief to see about starting my leave next week."

"Thank you. And if it helps your pride in any way, just know there are a lot of things I could use your help with."

"I can't help you sexually right now, Mark. I'm very tired and it just seems like there would be something incredibly sad about giving you a hand job after all this crying."

"I didn't ask for one," he laughs, but then grows serious. "Here's a perfect example though: you know what's in my tennis bag right now? A package of Pampers and a CPR baby doll I stole from the hospital. I don't know how to change diapers and I'm scared to do it wrong and traumatize Pickle. So you have to show me how to do it later on the dummy doll, okay?"

Addison stares at him for a moment, mouth rounded in shock and confusion, and then she starts to laugh, a welcome release of emotion that knocks against her so hard that her stomach aches and her less-than-proud tear ducts activate again. "Oh God. I'm sorry, Mark," she swipes her fingers beneath her eyes to dab at the reflex teardrops, continuing to giggle. "I'm not making fun of you. I just – those dolls the hospital uses for CPR classes are expensive. You absolutely have to give it back. And you need to do it discreetly, because otherwise you're going to be the weird guy who brought a CPR doll home with you and people are going to have questions."

"I will. Was this weirder though than saying your job involves you being in the 'vaginal trenches?' Because I regretted that one immediately."

"Kind of a toss-up."

"Okay. And by the way, I didn't plan on keeping the doll, you know. The intent was always just to borrow it."

"I really hope so."

-

"You sure?" Mark whispers that night when she reaches for him, eyes beginning to glitter in a scheming way and smiling that smile. It was not an easy day for her, so in circumstances like this it always occurs to him to gauge her reaction first.

"Yes. Please."

He grins in response and joins her in a short laugh. "Since you asked nicely," he says, capturing her lips with his.

The sex is slower now, more tender. The pleasure is nice, of course, but Addison has started to desire comfort a bit more when it comes to intimacy, given that she has reached what she considers the Violet Beauregarde stage of her pregnancy. Her back and breasts also hurt like hell, so much so on the latter that the bras she keeps on even while she sleeps can now only be classified as supportive, not sexy.

Mark pushes into her from behind, both of them curled on their sides in a spooning position. His lips make steamy paths from her neck down to the slope of her shoulder, and his hands touch all the right places as they slowly rock together.

"We can…we can change it up if this isn't working for you…" she says at one point, which is enough to make him stop thrusting.

"Is this not comfortable?"

"It is," Addison replies, and despite her offer, she is unable to stop herself from wiggling her hips to get Mark to start moving again. "It feels really good. It's just as far as you getting some enjoyment out of this…I don't think this is the best position for -"

"I'm getting plenty in terms of enjoyment," Mark insists as he resumes pushing against her. "I think you're forgetting how much I like making it feel good for you and how much I enjoy making you come, Addison," he teasingly blows a stream of hot air against her neck, and her silent wish is granted when he does it again. "Just relax."

"Okay."

"You feel amazing," he murmurs later, bending her right leg and guiding it back a bit to give one of his hands more access to her lower half. She closes her eyes and moans immediately at the new contact. It does take Mark a few more minutes to finish than it does her, but it feels incredible for both of them as he thrusts more insistently while holding her by the waist, coming with a hard jolt as her hand skims up and down his thigh in encouragement.

"Thank you," she says afterwards, voice sleepy and satisfied.

"Pleasure was all mine," he kisses her deeply, slipping his tongue against hers. "Hey…" he asks when they pull back for some much-needed air. "What do you want to do for Valentine's Day next week? I should probably get you something, right?"

"Chocolate. Not because it's a holiday where you're kinda supposed to get me something, but just because I really want chocolate. And Taco Bell. Beyond that, I just want to sleep. And not cry about patients. And order everything else we need for Pickle."

"Chocolate and Taco Bell for sure," Mark agrees. "And hey, what if we went to Cape Cod for a few days next week? It might be nice to go one more time before Pickle gets here. I assume once she arrives we'll be embracing the shut-in life for a while."

"Yes. With Pickle, and…" Addison smirks, "also with our CPR doll, of course."

"I swear I'm going to return Tate as soon as you show me how to put diapers on. The problem is I can't tell the front from the back."

"Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Mark, you gave the doll a name?"

"Tate as in resuscitate. It's funny."

Addison rolls her eyes. "I see you're already getting a head start on the dad jokes. You're lucky I love you so damn much, because you are a very, very strange person, Mark Sloan."