Hi! You have all been so patient with this story and I so appreciate it. Long story short (ha, as if I could make a long story anything but insanely long), TCW is still a work in progress, so this update is happening first. The second part of the story is that ... there will be a second part of the story. What can I say? I love Archer, and so does Addison, and when he insisted he needed two parts to his chapter I couldn't say no. So here's part one of Archer's visit, with part 2 coming soon ... which will launch us into what's coming next. But I won't get ahead of myself (yet). Two unorthodox parts of this QPQ update: it's Tuesday (TUESDAY!) and also this chapter's list will be in Part II.

I hope you enjoy Part I, and you can thank the awesome peachfresca for inspiring the chapter title ... she'll know why.

Three and a Half Montgomerys, Part I

Gestational Age: Twenty Weeks, Two Days
Baby is the Size of: a cantaloupe, and if baby's maternal grandmother doesn't like it, she can just go back to Connecticut where the fruit metaphors are more appropriately slender
Said Maternal Grandmother: is still in Seattle, though thankfully ensconced in her hotel room at this very moment
Baby's Maternal Uncle, Though: has just touched down in Seattle
Total Number of Montgomerys Currently in Seattle: three and a half (counting half of baby and grudgingly all of baby's mother, even though she took baby's father's surname for a reason)
Ideal Number of Montgomerys in Seattle: less than that … definitely less than that

..

"Archer!"

She waves with frantic enthusiasm like she's meeting her brother's ferry at Vineyard Haven. It's a little different here in the heated muggy air just outside the hospital, but the trepidation she felt on the drive to work melts away—turns out she's just as glad to see him as she was those long-ago summers she'd beat him to the Vineyard and then greet him when he arrived.

Archer disembarks a black town car instead of a ferry boat in a lightweight suit—not the casual summerwear he'd don on the way to the Vineyard … but he couldn't seem to resist a straw boater and his rakish grin is exactly the same as she remembers.

"You're here," she says, beaming.

"I'm here." He looks like he's not sure what to do first: insult Seattle, glare at Derek, or hug his sister.

She reaches for him, taking the choice into her own hands; he accepts her embrace, then holds her away gently by the shoulders. "I'm here … and you are pregnant. Very pregnant."

Derek has been standing next to her with admirable patience as she awaited her brother and chivalrously ignored the dirty look Archer couldn't seem to resist throwing him. Now he frowns, though—perhaps put off by Archer's expression as he takes in his sister's new shape.

"Addison looks great," he interjects mildly.

"Hey, I never said she didn't. I just said she looked … pregnant." Archer studies her bump with some measure of nervousness.

Addison, who isn't offended, just shakes her head. "Don't mind Archie, Derek. He's spent so many years trying desperately not to father a child that he basically has a phobia of pregnant bellies." She pauses. "Did I get that right?" she asks her brother.

"In a nutshell." Archer smiles fondly at her. "You know me well, sis."

She can't help smiling back. In spite of everything … she's happy to see him.

Very happy to see him.

Even in the moist summer air that's frizzing her long hair and (unfairly) just making Derek's curls look even better … she's happy.

"Why don't we go inside," Derek suggests, tactfully not adding, since you insisted on meeting us at the hospital.

Addison, who has been perspiring—at least one of Nancy's gifted pregnancy books would probably call it glowing—under one of her new favorite maternity dresses, is only too happy to agree.

Archer, meanwhile, waits until they're in the air-conditioned lobby, a few steps away from the bustle of the patient information desk, to turn to his brother-in-law.

"Derek," he says finally, nodding in his direction. "I suppose congratulations are in order for knocking up my sister?"

"Archie!" Addison shakes her head again. "Come on."

"What did I say?" Archer raises his hands, the picture of innocence. The same big brother who would swipe pastries—and later liquor—for her from the sweeping kitchens on the ground floor of their parents' home, using that angelic boy scout face to get out of any potential consequences. He always looked out for her in his own way … a way that sometimes caused more trouble than it prevented, but still.

She's missed him.

"Forget it." Derek holds out a hand. "It's good to see you, Archer."

"Don't lie to me, Shepherd." But he takes the proffered hand, even giving his brother-in-law a grimace that could possibly pass for a smile.

"How was your flight, Archie?" Addison asks quickly, figuring the less discussion the two men have, the better.

"It was adequate. … the stewardesses, though. I'd rather fly National if I'm going commercial, though, at least those stewardesses wear tighter—"

"So no turbulence, then," Derek interrupts.

"Well, it's a short flight."

"Because you're in California," Addison prompts. "Which you didn't tell me."

"What's to tell? It's a phone call either way. But the Malibu beaches have the Hamptons beat, no contest."

"So you're going to stay there for a while?"

"Who knows?" Archer shrugs. "I had a junket—I have another coming up—I had to switch agents last minute for this book."

He pauses, perhaps waiting for one of the Shepherds to ask why.

Neither does.

"I slept with my agent's wife," Archer says casually.

"The old agent, or the new agent?" Derek can't seem to help asking.

"Ask me in about two weeks and the answer should be both," Archer responds, grinning.

Derek looks like he preferred having his brother-in-law across the country.

..

The thing is, Derek doesn't hate his brother-in-law.

That would be far simpler, in fact.

Derek's feelings about Addison's parents, for example, are less complicated. The Captain's ill health notwithstanding, Derek has very limited stores of sympathy for the elder Montgomerys. He's seen firsthand what they did—and didn't do—when it comes to their daughter, the damage they inflicted that left invisible scars he was still discovering years into their marriage. Even the last couple of days, after everything Addison has been through, he's seen the way having her mother in the same time zone tightened her with the old anxiety that used to frustrate—and worry—him in turns.

He and Addison were young when they met, but it's a younger Addison who suffered the most. So it doesn't matter if Bizzy and the Captain play nice—or play WASP, or whatever—he's not going to suddenly start trusting them or enjoying their company. From the first tidbits of information he gleaned about them to the first anxiety-inducing meeting with them to the first awkward time he visited their home, Derek has found himself with one primary goal: protecting Addison from their particular brand of danger.

This protection has taken a number of forms over the years, just as the damage they wrought has come in different varieties. The goal, though, has remained the same.

But Archer … Archer is different.

Derek can't say he's fond of Addison's brother, and he certainly couldn't say—without lying—that Archer does anything more than barely tolerate Derek, if that, and then only under duress from Addison. Whatever benevolence Derek is willing to extend to his brother-in-law out of sheer affection for the woman they both love … doesn't seem to work in reverse.

Archer has never liked Derek, and he has never made a secret of it, either.

(A typical Montgomery, Archer is wont to make secrets of things that require honesty and shout from the rooftops the type of things that work better as secrets. That's been Derek's experience, anyway.)

But Archer isn't Bizzy, or the Captain.

Bizzy spent years criticizing Addison's hair and her posture and her freckles until her daughter was convinced of her own invented unattractiveness and self-conscious enough to become a target; Archer, on the other hand, punched the boys who teased her—the smaller ones than him and the bigger ones too—and started insulting rumors about the girls.

The Captain ignored Addison's triumphs and struggles alike, missing her awards ceremonies, her graduation, the four nights in the hospital when she fractured her tibia skiing … and Archer held her hand when they set the bone, screamed her name at their medical school graduation and then lifted her into the air with the force of his post-diploma hug even though Addison—by some twist of genetics or the fact that Archer picked up smoking to impress girls by junior high school—was already taller than her brother.

Archer is as snooty as Bizzy when it comes to food and wine and dress and manners, and as philandering as the Captain when it comes to women … especially married ones.

But he loves Addison.

And he—alone, it seems—looked out for her before Derek took over that job.

So no, he doesn't hate his brother-in-law.

He can't.

But the thing is—

"Hey, Shepherd." Archer raises his eyebrows. "I hope my sister finally drafted a post-nup now that you knocked her up."

—the thing is that he doesn't like him either.

"Archie." Addison sighs. "Drop it."

"What? I'm just looking out for you, Addie. I thought when you got divorced the two of you were done."

She exhales. "We didn't get divorced. You know that."

"I heard what I heard," Archer says, "which includes that guy walking out on you in New York."

Addison closes her eyes briefly; Derek rests a hand on her shoulder.

"We're not divorced, Archie. We were never divorced. You know that. And before my husband walked out on me, he walked in on me, and you know that too."

Her voice shakes a little, and Derek has to grit his teeth not to intervene.

"You mean Sloan?" Archer waves a dismissive hand. "So you slipped up. Big deal. Derek isn't still holding that over your head, is he?"

"No, he isn't," Addison says quietly.

"Good. He married a Montgomery, after all, so he knew what he was getting into." Archer gives them both a toothy grin, then pauses, his brow furrowing. "You really never got divorced?"

"Archer!"

"Okay, okay, I believe you."

"Good." Addison tucks her long hair behind her ears. "Listen, Archie, before we—"

"—and what about you," Archer continues, turning to Derek, "weren't you stepping out with an intern?"

Stepping out. It sounds quaint coming from his brother-in-law.

"Archer, please." Addison rests a hand on his arm. "Drop it."

"I'm on your side, Addie."

"And I'm on Derek's side, Archie, we're on the same side, so if you want to be on my side, you have to be on his too."

"Word salad." Archer studies her face. "Is this some pregnancy thing?"

There's a moment where Derek considers the fact that his wife would probably slap anyone else who framed it that way.

"It makes sense to me," is all Addison says.

"It makes sense to me too," Derek adds loyally.

Husband and wife exchange a warm smile.

Archer winces. "Screw turbulence, now I'm feeling nauseous."

..

It seemed like a good plan at the time: her brother is always busy in his particular Archer Montgomery Only Sees Patients When He Feels Like It sort of way. But he's here, as she requested, and he's agreed to keep Bizzy … busy until the command performance dinner tonight.

Archer gets to see the hospital—thank god Richard seems mostly consumed with a Board call this morning, and yes she double checked that with his assistant—and see her as their normal selves before they have to face Bizzy together.

Her morning patients are taken care of, and now she's patient-free until noon—apparently all the laboring moms knew she was in need of a little time with her brother.

"Are you hungry, Archie?"

"For what?" His gaze is tracking down the hall as an attractive nurse passes by; Addison rolls her eyes at his smirk.

Same old Archer.

"Let's go get a cup of coffee," she suggests, linking her arm through his, "and on the way, you can tell me why you didn't tell me about the Captain's heart."

"I was surprised too," her brother says in a serious tone. "Who knew the Captain had a heart?"

"Very funny."

"Now we know. I've seen it." He grins at her, no longer serious. "Come on, Addie, he's fine. All those cigars, scotch … and never saying no to a Porterhouse … it was always going to catch up to him eventually."

"It's serious, Archie."

"He's fine. It's going to take a lot more than that to kill the old guy. Besides," Archer lifts an eyebrow, "you've ignored him for years."

"I haven't ignored him," Addison frowns as she stabs the elevator button, then turns back to her brother. "I just haven't … spoken to him."

"Right."

"I sent a note after he published that thing last … maybe it was two years ago."

"A note, two years ago? That's practically WASP for I love you." Archer smirks at her. "Addie … forget about the Captain. Bizzy certainly has."

"What does that mean?"

Archer looks at her. "It means she flew all the way out here just to get a load of your post-divorce love child."

"Archer."

"Fine, you're not divorced." He wraps an arm around her as they walk onto the elevator. "A guy can dream, can't he?"

..

While Addison and Archer go in search of coffee—or, knowing his brother-in-law, a late morning drink—Derek checks on a patient and performs a quick consult.

It's Archer, after all. He doesn't have to worry, with Archer.

Well.

Archer has never been crazy about Derek—to say the least—so he does have to watch his own back. (And don't get him started on how Archer has behaved around Derek's sisters over the years.).

Addison, though … in Archer's hands, in the past, she's certainly ended up drunk, a little nostalgic, even fired about something to do with their parents.

But not hurt.

Archer looks out for her, and Derek respects that. That's the way it's always been.

It's nice to think with all that's changed, some things have stayed the same.

… though it would be nicer, he supposes, if not for the fact that Bizzy—the brief conversation with her daughter that was almost human—is also much the same.

But then, you can't expect too much from the other Montgomerys.

At least Archer is here now, and he's happy for Addison.

Supportive.

..

"Be honest with me, Addie. You seriously want to live here?"

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't." Archer sips his coffee, then makes a face. "Come to California with me," he suggests. "A little beach air will do you good."

"I'm not going to California, Archer." She takes a sip of her decaf—iced, by necessity. It's warm out here. The outdoor cafeteria seating always appealed to her, but the humidity today isn't exactly her favorite. "I live in Seattle."

"Yes, but why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why Seattle?" Archer looks around, his face clearly unimpressed.

"… why not?" Addison asks gamely.

"Well, for one, it's a humid little backwater without a decent hospital in sight."

"We work at a decent hospital, Archer. You're sitting in it. We're level two—"

"More decent than where you worked in Manhattan?"

"That's not the point—and Seattle has … good restaurants," Addison says, sounding slightly pained.

Archer waves a dismissive hand.

"And it's … beautiful. There's fishing, and hiking …." Addison's voice trails off.

"Fishing and hiking, huh?" Archer smirks. "I seem to have left all my fishing and hiking gear back in Manhattan, I'm sad to say … maybe I can borrow your husband's L.L. Bean catalogue. That is, if the pages aren't all stuck together."

"Archer." Addison folds her arms over her chest—everything still feels a little different now, her bump higher and tighter than it was and her son, lulled to sleep when she walks, starting to fidget as soon as she pauses.

"What?"

"… never mind." Addison can't stay mad at him; she never could.

"Aren't you glad to see me, Addie?"

"You know I am."

He nods with satisfaction. "Addison …"

"Yeah?"

"You do look good," he says quietly. "Pregnant, but good."

… she'll take it.

He doesn't stop there, though. "And … happy," he says. "You seem happy."

Now she smiles a little. "I am happy."

"Here, in Seattle," Archer continues doubtfully, "… with Derek."

"Here, in Seattle, with Derek," Addison confirms, "I'm happy."

"Good," Archer says. He studies her face for a moment. "I didn't bring anything for the baby."

"He probably won't notice," Addison says, resting a hand on her bump, "he's more concerned with fetal development right now than gifts."

Her brother pats the side of his still-perfect hair. "I didn't want to get just anything," he says, "this isn't just some kid. It's my nephew."

In spite of herself, Addison is touched.

"That's … sweet of you, Archie."

"So, uh—what should I get him?"

Addison swallows a laugh. "He doesn't really need anything right now."

"Fine, then what should I get you? You're the one doing all the work."

"Me?"

"You." Archer lifts an eyebrow. "I suppose you don't want the wine I brought."

I wanted it at breakfast with Bizzy.

"Not for another few months," she says patiently. "So you'll have to drink it … which you probably knew when you packed it." She shakes her head; Archer really doesn't change.

It's comforting, in a way.

"Just think about what you want, Addie, okay? I'm not good at this—girly stuff. Baby stuff. Whatever you want, it's yours, but I need a little guidance here."

Only Archer could place the burden of choice on her and make it sound like a favor.

What was that Savvy used to say? A gift that you have to choose yourself isn't a gift … it's a homework assignment.

One of several Savvy-isms she ended up adopting years ago. She reminds herself that she should call her best friend—that she will, after her family leaves.

And then she returns to the difficult question at hand: a gift, from her brother, that isn't alcoholic?

"… I'll give it some thought," she says finally.

They finish their coffee, Addison putting on her best game face about the Seattle dampness—really, it's been a pretty mild summer, and it's just her luck it's heating up when her brother is here.

But everything is fine until a voice interrupts their perfectly peaceful reunion.

"Archer?"

Her brother turns in his chair, an equally surprised expression in his response. "Mark?"

… fine, so there are a few things she may have forgotten to mention to her brother.

..

Richard has been out of pocket most of the morning, but not so much that Derek hasn't heard an update on Ellis Grey. Derek has been a brain surgeon long enough never to be surprised by a neuro patient. It's one of the things that drew him to neurosurgery in the first place: the fact that no matter how many startling advances the field makes … there's still so much we don't know about the brain.

He checks his blackberry; Addison is still with Archer, and he's giving them space. Feeling compelled to assuage the chief's worry—he's aware he and Ellis were close, at one point—he checks with the fellow on her case.

Still lucid.

And still no explanation why.

These things just happen sometimes, is what he would have said, were it his patient, before diving in to explore the possible causes.

Instead, he updates Richard before checking on another of his own patients.

..

"What are you doing here?" Mark is grinning as he approaches, looking less predatory than usual.

"Checking on my sister." Archer raises an eyebrow. "With good reason."

"Archie."

Mark turns to Addison. "You didn't tell me your brother was coming."

She opens, then closes, her mouth without answering.

"What are you doing here, Sloan? There was a mass exodus from Manhattan no one told me about?"

Mark glances at Addison. "Manhattan is overrated."

"I would disagree, but I'm starting to think Malibu is the place for me." Archer gives the outdoor cafeteria an unimpressed once-over. "The … scenery … is excellent."

"The local flora?" Mark smirks at him and Addison starts to feel a flicker of her first-trimester nausea.

Mark and her brother have always gotten along; it shouldn't surprise her that they still do. What was Archer going to do, throw a punch because Mark had the audacity to sleep with his sister? In the Montgomery world, it was a slip. A nothing. Barely a blip.

Their affair would never register as anything more than that, not to Archer.

Which explains why he and Mark are greeting each other like old friends while Addison stands there, wishing Mark would find somewhere else to live.

"…you know me," Mark is saying when she tuned back in, "I couldn't stay in New York when my favorite people were three thousand miles away."

Addison's stomach curdles at the description. Favorite people? She decides not to remind Mark how he behaved when he flew to Seattle, the seeds of discord he purposefully sowed in Addison's marriage … and the weeks she and Derek lost because of it.

"You keeping an eye on Shepherd?" Archer asks.

"Archie." Addison shakes her head.

"She's right over there," Mark says, to Addison's dismay, and both men turn to see Meredith Grey and Cristina Yang, paper cups of coffee in hand.

Addison tries to send out some sort of … bat signal … to get the interns to leave, but it's too late.

"Grey!" Mark calls. "I have a case for you."

Addison watches her exchange a glance with Yang.

"What sort of a case?" she asks as they approach.

"A case of …" Mark's voice trails off and he smirks at Archer. "Nah, it's not worth it."

Addison cringes, but it just gets worse.

"Archer Montgomery," her brother says with a grin, holding out his hand. "And you are?"

"Meredith Grey," and she glances in Addison's direction.

"My brother."

"And you," Archer looks to Mark for confirmation, who nods, "must be my brother-in-law's midlife crisis."

"Archer, stop it." Addison mouths sorry in Meredith's direction.

"Hey, hey, I'm not judging." Archer holds his hands up innocently. "Speaking of which … what are you doing tonight?"

"Not you," Addison interrupts quickly, mouthing one more sorry.

"Why not? She's single, isn't she?" Archer smirks.

"No use. I've already tried it," Mark says, sighing.

Addison winces, hoping the hospital's Title IX certification isn't in jeopardy. Then again, with all the attending-intern relationships ….

"And you didn't get anywhere?" Archer is asking Mark with interest.

"No, he didn't," Meredith says coolly. "And neither will you."

"Ouch." Mark sounds unbothered. "You hear that, buddy?"

Meredith shakes her head. "Why do people assume just because I slept with one attending that I'm easy?"

"You really have to ask?" Yang shoots her an amused look, softening her words.

"You're one to talk." Meredith raises an eyebrow. "How many attendings have you slept with?"

"Yes, how many?" Archer asks, inclining his head toward the conversation.

"Thanks for that," Yang says to Meredith, before turning to Archer. "How many? Too many."

"Ouch," Mark says again, then glances at the other man. "She just broke an engagement."

"Cold," Archer says, looking impressed.

"And thank you for that." Yang and Meredith exchange a glance.

Archer gives Yang a once over that goes on long enough for Addison to slap his arm, annoyed, and shake him out of it.

"Cut it out, Archie."

"You're not going to ask her out?" Mark looks amused.

"Nah." Archer cocks his head thoughtfully. "Great bod, but too scary for me."

"That's the first intelligent thing I've heard him say," Yang tells Meredith. To Archer, she offers a smirking thank you.

"Was that a compliment?" Mark asks.

Addison clears her throat. "Archer … we really need to be going."

"Why?"

"Because the hospital doesn't want to be sued," Addison says crisply.

"… again," Mark adds, smirking.

"Archer!"

Her brother relents and this time lets her usher him away from the interns.

"Mark," she turns over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"

"… not at this rate," he mutters, quietly enough to be for the Montgomery siblings' benefit, and she finds herself cringing.

Why is he still in Seattle?

But she's not going to give him the satisfaction of asking.

..

She hints politely with the hope that her brother will leave to go deal with Bizzy, but he insists on trailing her back to her office, where she finally stashes him so she can go check on a patient.

"And then you're going to Bizzy. Archie, come on."

"Sure," he says, his focus on his blackberry.

With that, Addison heads for Brandy Hartwell's room. There's a nurse with her already, and they speak briefly before she talks to the patient. A resident brings her updated labs and she studies them for a moment before walking Brandy and her mother through them, patiently and in lay language.

"They're good," Therese says, looking from her daughter to Addison. "Right?"

"The numbers are good, and it's good to see Brandy looking so alert." Addison smiles at her patient, then speaks directly to her. "I'm so glad you're feeling better, but I'd still like you to try to get some more rest," Addison speaks directly to her, "and I'll come back to check on you later."

"Dr. Shepherd?"

She turns around at the door.

"This is good, right? Brandy's out of the woods?"

Addison very mindfully doesn't look at the nurse standing on the other side of the bed.

"All Brandy's numbers look good right now, Therese, and all the baby's markers do too."

It's one of the hardest parts of her job, that sometimes things look good right up until they don't. The potential for heartbreak is beyond devastating but she was telling the truth about Brandy's numbers, and the baby's markers, too.

Of course she was.

And she was telling Derek the truth last night, too. Their baby is good. Their baby is fine. But … she needs to get through the second anatomy scan before they can plan. Which is still more than a week from now.

"But I still can't leave tonight?" Brandy asks, her disappointed little face making Addison's stomach tighten. She's so young.

"One more night of observation, Brandy, just to make sure everything stays as good as it looks right now." Addison looks sympathetically at mother and daughter. "We just want to be careful, okay?"

"Okay," Brandy says in a small voice.

With her most reassuring smile, Addison leaves Brandy's room, pausing to make a note on her chart. Sasha, the nurse who was helping Brandy, leaves the room next … and pauses outside the door, too.

Addison has a good idea why.

"Out of the woods," she says quietly, resting a hand on her own pregnancy.

"Yeah." Sasha glances at her. She's younger than Addison but not by much, dark hair piled on her head. She's a mother; Addison has seen pictures of at least one baby pinned to her scrub top sometimes.

They don't have to say anything more.

Out of the woods.

How long it takes depends on the patient. The old wives' tale, the way patients live it, is this: you stop worrying once you pass the week of the latest loss you know.

It's sad … but logical.

And it has played true in her experience, with her patients: the woman who lost a pregnancy at nine weeks breathes a sigh of relief in the next pregnancy when she reaches ten. The one whose best friend lost a baby at seventeen won't breathe easy until closer to eighteen.

"She looks good, though," Sasha says.

Addison gives her the best smile she can. It's too bad they both know looks good doesn't always carry over into a healthy birth.

She's still going to do her best to make it a healthy birth for Brandy.

"She looks good," Addison repeats.

The thing is … it's different for her.

The calculus.

The latest pregnancy loss Addison has been close to?

… forty-one weeks.

A perfect, fat, healthy newborn, except dead.

There is no out of the woods for the women in her line of work. Not really.

It's just part of the job.

(She could have been a podiatrist, she muses while she's waiting for the elevator … but a lifetime of sensible shoes just doesn't seem worth it in the end.)

..

Miranda Bailey catches up to her at the elevators.

"Your mother was here," she says without preamble. "There are a lot of … mothers here."

"My mother was here." Addison winces. "Sorry about that."

"And your mother-in-law."

"And my mother in law."

Miranda studies her for a moment.

"Parents—seem to want to see where we work all of a sudden," Addison says, "maybe it's a thing? Have your parents ever come to the hospital?"

"No, I can't say that they have.

"… oh." Addison pauses. "And you, um, you met my mother?"

"I did."

"But she hasn't met your brother." Archer strides up just then with his usual self-serving timing, giving first Addison and then Miranda a dazzling smile. So much for stashing him in her office. "Archer Montgomery," he announces, offering a hand, which the resident shakes after only a moment's hesitation.

"Another visitor?" Miranda asks, glancing at Addison.

"He's a doctor, at least."

"Mm. Like Derek's sister." Miranda gives Archer a suspicious glance. "Are you here to see multiple uteruses too?"

"Depends on how the night goes," Archer smirks and Addison just shakes her head wearily.

(In fairness, Miranda did kind of walk into that one.)

"Archer is a neurologist," Addison recites dutifully, "and he's in town briefly to say hello. No patients."

"I don't know about that," Archer says casually, "you can't always plan when a patient will pop up."

"You don't have privileges here," Addison reminds him. "And you don't actually need to be here, Archie. Why don't I show you where—"

"Wait." Miranda tilts her head slightly. "Your brother is a neurologist."

Both Montgomerys nod.

"And your husband is a neurosurgeon."

They both nod again, but with very different expressions: Archer's mouth curled just a little bit with apparently Derek-induced disgust and Addison's lips twitching with the same warm-glow smile she's always felt when her husband's surgical prowess comes up.

(She can't help it. She's known him since the first day he picked up a scalpel. Pride doesn't begin to cut it, and she knows he'll agree when it comes to her own career. Even when things were at their worst—worse than she could have imagined—he never lost that respect for her.)

"A neurologist and a neurosurgeon," Miranda repeats.

"Don't ask what our father does for a living," Archer smirks and Addison forces herself not to roll her eyes, apologizes quickly to Miranda and pulls on her brother's sleeve until he follows her down the hall.

"What's the rush, Addie?" he asks breezily. "I liked her. She was … feisty."

"I like her too." Which is why I'd like her to spend as little time with the Montgomerys as possible.

"You're trying to kick me out of the hospital," Archer says, glancing at her.

Yes. I am. You noticed?

"No, I'm not," she lies.

"Come on, Addie, I don't actually have a patient, and I know this is your turf. But I do have a flight tomorrow morning. Don't you want to spend some time together?"

"Of course I do, Archie." She rests a hand on his arm. "But you said you'd go keep Bizzy … busy. And we're having dinner tonight."

"With Bizzy; does that count? It's not a meal so much as a … defensive maneuver."

Addison smiles at the unfortunate accuracy of that comment. "I have to work, Archie. But I'll see you for dinner and if Bizzy's really … Bizzy…"

Her voice trails off. The natural conclusion is we'll get a drink afterwards to recover.

"… then we'll add it to her list of sins and list them at the reading of the will." Archer raises an eyebrow when she shakes her head at him. "What, sis? It's the circle of life. I always thought the Captain would go first, actually, but if the widowmaker didn't take him then I think he might be here for the long haul."

"Don't talk like that, Archie."

"Why not? You're a doctor, Addison, death is a part of life."

"They're not our patients."

"Good thing, too."

They exchange a silent, meaningful glance covering everything they both know about how hard Bizzy is on anyone attempting to serve her or the Captain in any important capacity.

… almost as hard as they are on their children.

..

With Archer finally, mercifully, on his way to meet Bizzy, Seattle Grace free of Montgomerys unless you count its one, employed, Montgomery-Shepherd … Addison is free to page one particular intern.

"… you have a case?" Meredith asks, with that eager-intern attitude Addison remembers well, and it makes her feel guilty for abusing the page system.

"I don't. I just wanted to apologize."

"For—"

"My brother. And for Mark, come to think of it." Addison tilts her head, considering. "Then again, I didn't exactly invite Mark to come to Seattle."

Or to stay.

She doesn't say it out loud, but Meredith seems to catch on: "So Dr. Sloan is here permanently?"

"He's in the chief's race," Addison says noncommittally.

"And your brother—"

"—is just visiting. For one day," she adds quickly. "But, um, it feels like longer."

"And your mother—"

"—is still here." Addison pauses. "So is yours," she says gently, not wanting to pry.

"So is mine." Meredith looks at her for a moment. "Your mother … was interesting."

It's not the first time Addison has heard that particular euphemism.

"I'm sorry she was … ." Addison's not sure how to finish that sentence.

"No, it's fine. I think she actually gave Cristina good advice."

Addison swallows hard; she remember this, of course, even though she has no idea what the advice was.

Meredith is looking at her with an expression she can't quite identify.

"When Derek's mother—your, um, your mother-in-law," and Meredith can't seem to figure out if Derek is appropriate and really, there's no rule book for these things so Addison just nods, "…his mother was a lot stranger than yours," Meredith says finally.

Ah.

Now this she gets. Mommy issues are Mommy issues.

"Derek's mother is a little different from mine," Addison says lightly, not wanting to commandeer the conversation.

"And from mine." Meredith pauses. "She actually seemed like she wanted to see him."

"She did."

"And that she liked him."

"She does."

Both women are silent.

"It must be strange," Meredith says finally, "growing up with a mother like that."

"Yeah." Addison looks down at her hands. "I wouldn't know. My mother didn't like very much about me, and she didn't actually want to see me, either."

"I interrupted my mother's career." Meredith's tone is calm, like she's discussing the weather. "She didn't want a child, and she let me know that. I, um, I pretty much grew up in the hospital while she was in the OR."

Addison is listening closely—not just because of the sensitive nature of the conversation, but because of the way it's reminding her of some of her unspoken fears … of her realization, growing every day, that even as she tracks her pregnancy and charts fetal development and waits for her unborn child, that child will be his own person. One day, he will have his own story.

And she doesn't ever, ever want that story to include anything about not being wanted.

Not ever.

Addison looks at Meredith.

Meredith looks back at Addison.

Addison remembers that Meredith's mother is still here, in the hospital.

The thing is, you can't really apologize for someone else—not your brother, not your former … whatever Mark was.

But here, in the hospital, there is one thing she can do to try to make up for it.

"Dr. Grey."

"Yes, Dr. Shepherd?"

"I'm not operating this afternoon, but Tracy Sandstrom is prepping a fetal abnormality in about an hour," Addison says. "She could use the assist of someone with your TTTS experience."

Meredith's eyes widen.

"If you're interested, I mean. And if you're free."

The intern's expression answers both questions.

Addison rests a hand on her bump as she watches Meredith leave with the same spring in her steps she remembers from her own baby surgeon days. The new case spring. Really, it's the least she could do. It's hard enough with Bizzy in town; she can only imagine what it's like with Ellis Grey in the hospital. She can afford to be generous

The thing is … people with mommy issues need to stick together. And she's going to do everything she can to make sure that her son will never be one of those people.

She feels the baby's movements as she thinks it, as if he's agreeing with her, and she rests a hand over the spot where he's growing.

One more week until the second anatomy scan.

One more dinner with her mother.

One more day until Seattle is theirs again … mostly, anyway. With that, there's another kick and she moves her hand to follow it, enjoying the sensation. He's so active these days it's been distracting in the nicest possible way. Every little reminder that he's here—active, healthy, alive—energizes her.

She doesn't have to move her lips to talk to the baby, not in public, anyway.

Your uncle Archer wants to get us a gift, baby. She cups her palm around the movement of her son. I've had a few of his gifts over the years and I'm not sure they're really your style. But maybe you can help me think of something.

That's when she realizes she's starving—and absolutely needs to procure one of the baby's preferred baseball-sized blueberry muffins from the cafeteria. It's just good planning, because she's unlikely to indulge at dinner with Bizzy—during which her mother is certain to scrutinize her intake as if Addison might not otherwise fit through the doors of the restaurant.

She's smiling ruefully at the thought, the heft of the white paper bag in her hand, when she walks right into Derek's path.

"Hey." He leans in and kisses her cheek. "I thought you might be hungry," he says before she can ask what he's doing here, and he passes a white paper bag into her hand that looks just like the one she's already holding.

They both smile.

"Great minds," Addison says, fingering the paper bag. "They're huge, though. I certainly don't need both."

"You're eating for two."

"Each of these is enough for four people," she admits.

"Then I guess you're eating for eight." Derek smiles at her, then checks his blackberry. "I have fifteen minutes before my next patient. What do you say we share—seven to one?"

Well. She's not going to argue with that.

If the muffins are delicious, the stolen moments in Derek's office with her husband between Montgomerys and patients … are even more so.

Right now, Dinner with Bizzy feels a hundred miles away.

"So … Archer wants me to figure out a baby gift from him," Addison says as she folds up the paper bag around the remains of the muffins.

"You have to figure it out?" Derek asks, raising an eyebrow. "That's not a gift. It's a homework assignment."

She blinks, a smile spreading across her face. That's what she's always said, learned from Savvy so long ago she can't remember when. But she does know she's used those exact words years before, to Derek.

Which means—

"You do listen to me," she tells her husband.

He lifts an eyebrow. "Who said I didn't?"

"No one." She pops one last blueberry into her mouth … it's the best one yet.

To be continued in Part II. Thank you so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed the chapter. I love hearing your thoughts, your predictions, your ideal number of Montgomerys (kidding ... sort of). I love writing this story and I'm sad when I can't update it ... and I'm happy when I know you are still reading and enjoying, so please drop me a review and let me know. See you next time!