Chapter title is a lyric in the song "Dirty Paws" by Of Monsters and Men.

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Chapter 15. Down the Forest Slope

Addison positions her handbag next to her to appear as if she is saving a spot. She's seated towards the back of the church though and there is plenty of seating still available – Susan's funeral is going to start in about five minutes – so she doesn't feel too guilty for distancing herself from others, at least.

She glances around, taking in all the details. The Bizzy ones – the hardcover guestbook, the memorial cards, and the programs with foil accents – certainly suggest there-was-no-budget, but there is still a quiet, understated quality to everything. And then there are the Bizzy-funded flowers, of course; there is a standing spray of roses, lilies, and carnations on the altar alongside a large photo of Susan, and baskets filled with hydrangeas, snapdragons, and larkspurs are situated every few feet down the aisle. A little color never hurts, Addison still believes as the funeral procession starts, but Bizzy's insistence the flowers be white and nothing but white certainly wasn't a bad call.

The service itself – with scripture readings and thoughtful remarks from Susan's sister and also from a cousin – seems to echo the peaceful beauty flowing through the church. The whole funeral really was caringly done, Addison thinks.

Honestly, the only thing missing is her mother.

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. .

On Friday morning, Addison sets her suitcase in the popped trunk – she waved Mark off when he started to get out of his Mercedes to assist, even though she is also balancing a coffee carrier in one of her hands – and then joins Mark in the running car.

"Hi," she chirps happily while placing two to-go cups – a bone dry cappuccino for him, and unfussy black coffee for her – in the cup holders. "This is my gift since I'm making us hit the road so early." It's true. She was in a cab before seven (headed to Savvy's so the two of them can have a weekend in the Hamptons, Derek believes), hopped out at East 80th and Second to grab coffee, and then walked the rest of the way to the parking garage where Mark's car is.

"No kidding," Mark answers with a sleepy-looking grin. He eases the gearshift down and backs out of his parking space. "I've already had two cups. But, thanks. You can take over at the wheel when I start to get caffeine jitters."

"Deal," Addison says, returning his smile. She's been smiling all morning, really.

She remembers how enthusiastic she felt the first few times she and Derek went to the Hamptons after purchasing property in Montauk. It felt so grownup, Addison told him, to have a vacation home. Spoiled and excessive, not grownup, Derek replied with an easy smirk (and Addison didn't necessarily disagree) when they closed on one of the first houses they looked at, the one with shake vinyl siding, a wrap-around deck shaded by pitch pines, and lots of space for future children to run around. It's been five years since they bought the house. They were joking, then. They were happy. They are not these things anymore. Truth evolves over time, and of the many things Addison knows to be true, it is this: she and Derek now live very separate lives.

But here's the other truth: she can't stop smiling because she's going away for the weekend with her husband's best friend. Addison's excitement about this far outweighs all those earlier Hamptons memories with Derek.

"Mark. Um…" Addison presses her lips together as a blush rolls across her cheeks. "I'm really glad we're getting to do this. And I just want you to know that it's not lost on me, just how patient and…accepting you've been the past few months when it comes to…to what I've been willing to give you." She exhales slowly. She practiced this in her head several times this morning.

"I'm glad we're doing this too," Mark says as he pulls out of the garage. "And, hey…" he looks over at Addison to give her a quick smirk. He can't stay serious, because Addison is clearly feeling vulnerable for sharing this, so the fastest way to put her at ease is to make her laugh. "We're gonna re-christen that shower again, right?"

Addison starts to giggle. "I would like that." She reaches across the console to hold Mark's hand, and he is so surprised by the gesture that he is sure Addison could feel how his wrist initially tensed. "Sorry," she says quickly. "Is this okay?"

"I'll need it back once we hit the expressway since I'll have to start laying on the horn and flipping other drivers off, but yes, this is definitely okay."

It is okay. That's the issue. Mark can feel the sharp coolness of her engagement and wedding rings where their fingers are joined, and he thinks back to Derek and Addison's wedding day – it will be eleven years this June – when he and Derek were in one of the back rooms at the church getting ready. Derek wasn't nervous, which surprised Mark. He has always assumed everyone is nervous on their wedding day.

"Addison's great, but one woman for the rest of your life?" He teased. Or mostly teased. "It's not what God intended. Especially for men who look like us. God intended for us many, many women…a staggering number of women."

"I just hope you didn't forget the rings," Derek mumbled back with an indulgent eye roll.

Mark didn't forget them. Of course he didn't. He truly was an excellent best man.

And then Mark grew serious during this exchange, though he couldn't say why. That never really was their thing, but Derek was – always has been – his family, the only family Mark has that matters to him, so he felt like he needed to say something profound, especially since the toast he had planned for the reception would be quick and no-nonsense. "Derek…you're lucky to have me," he said softly. "You will never, ever find another friend as good as me, ever."

Right, Mark thinks now as Addison's thumb innocently drifts along the lines marking his palm. If there is anything to palm reading, he considers what someone might say about his love and life lines. And the fate line; isn't that the one that slices through everything? He doesn't know.

Some best man and best friend after all.

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"Hurricane Amelia strikes again." Amy rushes for a brave, self-deprecating expression when her sister-in-law comes back into the room, but the strained grin she has been striving for fades when she sees the look of pain on Addison's face. "Oh, Addie…don't cry. It's okay. I'm okay. Or, well." She shrugs limply. "I'm not. I'm super not okay, but I will be okay again."

"That's great, but I'm going to cry anyway," Addison replies with a tense smile. She comes over and sits on the edge of the bed, taking Amy's hand in hers and being mindful not to disturb the cannula on the back of Amy's hand. She uses her other hand to pat at the moisture clinging to her cheekbones. She has been in and out of this hospital room at least four times now, but each time seeing Amy like this still feels like the first time.

"Yeah. It seems like everyone is. Even my mom and Kathleen, and those two, like, never cry. Especially Kathleen. Derek hasn't…" Amy swallows, grimacing at how much effort it takes and how sore and scratchy her throat still feels. "Derek hasn't come in to see me yet."

Addison shakes her head. "He has. He has, Amy. You've been out of it. And he'll be back soon. He went home with your mom and Liz to get some rest. Kathleen and Nancy are here...they're calling their husbands to check in on the kids, and I think they're going to grab a quick bite at the cafeteria. And Mark just got here, too." Addison briefly glances towards the closed door. "He should be in to see you soon. I think – I think he had to take a call first."

"Addie? Addie?" Amy begins, and Addison tightens her grip on Amy's hand when her sister-in-law starts to breathe a little heavier; she is clearly still stuck on the Derek component. "Will Derek forgive me? The doctor told me he was the one who…who had to…"

"He's not mad at you, Amy. None of us are mad at you. We're just worried. And we love you. We want you to be well."

"Do you remember Casey Prince? My crush when I was thirteen – you saw him when you took me to get my ears pierced – who I later told you was a total innocent and goody two-shoes? Well, not such a goody-goody after all. Towards the beginning of spring semester, he offered me a pill. And none of this is on him…it was me who got myself to this point, but I'm just telling you…he gave me a pill and I took it," Amy explains, voice croaky. "And the pill took things away. It took away the pain. It took away the misery. Because I miss my dad and I think – I also think there's something beyond that, just something that's maybe fundamentally wrong with me. And Casey…Casey and other people – they said it wasn't real, but it was real to me. Does that make sense?"

"Yes." Addison nods slowly. "I know it was real for you."

"Because I was happy and in a bubble where grief and sadness and loneliness couldn't poke through, and how could that not be real? But it's just…when I was gasping for what I thought were my final breaths and Derek was trying to save me, I didn't think dying happy was better than living sad…but I loved those pills." Amy's eyes fill with tears. "I still love those pills. But I know that I can't keep…I'm just…I'm just so tired."

"I know you are. Just rest now. Close your eyes and rest. I'll stay here with you. We're going to get you help and get you through this."

"I didn't mean…I just wanted the pain to stop, Addie. I wanted to be free."

"I know, Amy. Try to sleep now," she murmurs, reaching out with her free hand to stroke Amy's limp hair. It occurs to Addison just how many times in this short window she has said I know, probably rendering the words utterly meaningless. She gets what her sister-in-law is saying though. The need to be happy, the need to be free. Just free in general, and free from pain – everyone wants that, don't they?

Addison understood it then, just more as an outsider-looking-in, someone capable of empathizing with a young lady who experienced a significant loss and hasn't had an easy life because of it.

It took years for her to come to find a self-destructive thing of her own though.

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"This is new." Mark's palms press against Addison's bra-covered breasts when she finishes unbuttoning her shirt and shrugs it off. He lightly squeezes her through the plum-colored material, and she inhales sharply when his thumbs travel over the lacy scalloped edges, raising gooseflesh along her arms and the top of her breasts. That or she's just never worn this one when she's getting naked with him, Mark muses. He's pondered this before, if Addison is discerning when she picks out undergarments, if she maybe wears specific things for him or steers clear of items she wears around Derek, or if she doesn't give a crap either way and Mark is just overthinking it. It's weird, the affair-places his brain has taken him to over the past few months. And he'd like to not overthink right now – or think at all, really – because he's stretched out on the chaise part of the leather sectional and a slowly-getting-undressed Addison is currently straddling him.

"Mm-hmm," she confirms with a cheeky smile. "Matching panties, too. Do you like it?"

"I love it. And I'm sure I'll love the panties part, too. Leave it..." Mark says when she reaches a hand behind her back to undo the clasp. "Just for a sec," he adds when Addison arches an eyebrow in surprise. "God…" he can't help himself, and Addison doesn't shy away from the occasional compliment as much anymore, so he doesn't exactly hesitate: "You're beautiful."

"Thank you." Addison beams and leans closer, which pushes her chest more firmly against his hands. "Not one of my usual colors. I'm…" her giggle shifts into a gasp when Mark brushes his lips to her neck. "I'm sort of predictable with lingerie."

"Nothing wrong with being predictable and knowing what you prefer. I like the black," he murmurs, continuing to move his lips along her neck. "And the white." He switches to the other side now, and God, it feels so good that Addison thinks maybe Mark's lips were made for her body…which is exactly why her plan to get sandwiches from her favorite local shop shortly after arriving in the Hamptons has been delayed indefinitely (she's not unhappy about this though). And then Mark is paying attention again to the side he started with, and she sighs her appreciation when his tongue licks a long, slow stripe over her skin. "And the functional nude or whatever," he adds, words warm against her jawbone.

Addison starts to laugh. "Functional nude? I don't think I've ever seen that listed as a La Perla color."

"That's why women wear that color though, right? Since it matches your skin when you wear light-colored clothes and all that?"

"Yes, I suppose that's true. What's your favorite color?"

"Red," Mark answers automatically. Hell, he doesn't know. He doesn't think about that sort of thing. He definitely likes the color of Addison's hair though.

"Next time I'll get red lingerie then." She grins mischievously. "So you have a thing for redheads and the color red, huh?"

"I have a thing for you," he states, and Addison doesn't stiffen or appear uncomfortable with this comment. Her smile widens at it, actually, and Mark wasn't really expecting that. It drifted a little more into feelings territory, after all. "But it's more likely that I'm just an easy mark for evil redheads," he adds, and Addison laughs again. And then her lips are against his and her tongue darts out to stroke over his. The pace is unhurried at first – they do have all weekend, after all – but once Addison lowers herself in his lap a bit more to grind against him and Mark's hips rise to tease her back, he reaches a hand behind her to unclasp her bra (he does love it, but he loves her bare breasts more). He's not thinking anymore, but the sensations – oh, he's so aware of the sensations and how great it always feels with her. His thumbs flick over her hardened nipples and she's moaning against his mouth in between kisses. The ends of her soft hair are tickling his collarbone.

Addison shifts away and laughs when Mark desperately grabs at her retreating flesh, but then she's sliding out of her jeans and kicking them away and okay fine, it was worth the brief separation, because now she's only wearing panties and her hands are trailing down his stomach. It's getting faster now. Mark is rocking his hips a little impatiently beneath her, but then her slender hands are undoing the button on his pants and coaxing the zipper down and then she's reaching inside his pants and he can't imagine being any harder than he already is and somehow in the middle of all this he thinks he hears the grating-sound of a doorknob, but just the thought of Addison touching him is -

"Amy!" Addison squeals loudly when she turns in shock towards the open front door and recognizes the unexpected guest. She ducks to the side, sort of wedging herself between Mark and the back cushions, and she throws an arm up to cover her exposed breasts. Mark is too shocked to really do anything, but he definitely avoids looking at Amy. "Oh my God. I…I…" Addison stammers out. "What are -"

"I'll wait outside," Amy answers quickly. And then she shuts the door. Hard. And now Addison is scrambling to get dressed – she doesn't button her shirt correctly, she realizes, but who cares because what's one more cliché in her life really, and holy shit, why does button positioning even matter when she just got caught. And then she hisses at Mark to put his shirt on and stay inside while she goes to talk to her sister-in-law.

"Unbelievable," Amy snaps when Addison comes outside and shuts the door behind her. Amy's arms are crossed and she's facing forward, not making eye contact. "Un-flipping-believable."

"Amy, I'm so sorry you had to…it was just this…it was just this one time…Mark just…he was here and -"

"Don't," Amy interrupts. "That's what people always say. About it being one time. About the person just being here and it being something that just happened. You're like a sister to me, Addie. Better than the ones I have, actually. You're a sister whose nose I want to break at the moment, but you're a sister all the same. I don't want to know how long this has been going on, but please don't lie to me and act like this was the first time. In my experience, first times with someone you're not supposed to be with are quick and frantic. That…that wasn't like that. It was…" Amy sweeps her thumb over the space between her eyebrows. "I don't know what it was, but it certainly wasn't frantic. So don't tell me this was one time. I won't believe you."

"I…okay. Just. What…um." Addison can see Amy's car on the other side of the street, and she notices a scruffy-haired guy in the passenger seat looking directly at them. "What are you doing here?"

"I've put in way too many hours recently and decided I was due for a little time off. That's Hunter." Amy has finally turned to look at Addison, and notices her staring at her Toyota Corolla. "We're dating. He convinced me to come meet his parents – they live in North Hempstead. And on Tuesday we kinda felt like we needed a break from Ron and Laurie, and I was talking about your place in the Hamptons, soooo." Amy grins sheepishly, even though clearly, she's not the one who should be ashamed right now. "I still have a key from that time I met you guys here for a few days before I started my last year of med school. We really were just in and out, just here for a night...but I stupidly forgot my watch so we drove back today to get it. I thought you guys usually parked in the driveway here, not in the garage, but…apparently not. Otherwise I would have knocked, if I'd known you and Mark – or the guy you're actually supposed to be with, perhaps you know him, his name is Derek – were here."

"Amy -"

"Wait. Obviously if anyone owes anyone an explanation right now, it's not me owing you one, but step nine of AA is permanently lodged in my head, so let me finish real quick. I know I could have just called and asked if I could come here for a day – I should have done that – but I kinda figured Derek would say no…you know he sort of just…" Amy shrugs, her tone sounding a touch regretful and sad underneath the half-smile she is showing Addison. "He probably thinks I'll come here and rub two Percocets together and blow up the house or something."

"He knows you're sober, Amy. We both do."

"Right. Well, anyway. Sorry. It wasn't appropriate to just show up and practically defile your master bedroom having sex with my boyfriend…though clearly these walls have seen more inappropriate things lately. I won't do it again though. It's not my home to just barge into. And I remembered the alarm code. It's your wedding month and year. You know...your wedding. Not sure if you remember that?"

"I…I do," Addison replies, and then cringes, hating her phrasing. None of this should be happening, precisely because of the I do. "Amy, you have to know I didn't mean for this to happen; I would never want to hurt Derek. I…I didn't mean…are you going to tell him?" Her voice rises with the question. Addison knows she can't ask Amy not to tell. She can't beg her not to, either; it's not fair to Amy. But Addison needs a little time to prepare for this conversation with Derek. She hasn't allowed herself to get to this point – to even consider telling her husband that she's been unfaithful, that she's betrayed him, that she's starting to have feelings – big feelings – for someone else. "If you can just give me a few days, I'll Derek I've been -"

"I'm not going to tell him," Amy cuts in with a hurried shake of her head. "It's not my place. I don't feel good about keeping it a secret, but…come on, Addie. I'm not exactly in a position to judge anyone. I won't say anything. Don't make a habit of this though. I know Derek can be an ass and I get the appeal of Mark because damn, he has a face like an angel and probably has hips like the devil, but…" Amy shakes her head again. "Still. If you don't want to be with Derek anymore, you have to grow up and tell him. This is cruel. You're not this kind of person."

"Thank you, Amy," Addison replies haltingly. I am this kind of person now though, aren't I? she thinks. "And I…I know. Believe me; I know. It's just been hard. That doesn't justify cheating on my husband, but it's…it's really hard."

"We've been out here for a few minutes now. It's probably not anymore."

"Amy…"

"Sorry," Amy replies with a smirk. "You know I don't have a filter. I'll just wait out here while you get my watch and then I'll be on my way. It's on the nightstand in yours and Derek's room. And Addie…you talked to me once about birth control…do I need to talk to you about it now?" She shrugs when Addison breaks eye contact, uncomfortable. "I'm just trying to make sure no little ginger with Mark's ego ends up being the result of this. Oh also…can you actually call me Amelia from now on? I'm thinking about going by Amelia. With family, I mean. Everyone at work knows me as Amelia, not Amy."

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"Have you seen Bizzy?" Addison asks when she finds Archer in the sitting room. He was summoned from Boston – his current home – for Susan's funeral, which is tomorrow. He hasn't seen Susan in years and doesn't quite feel the same sense of jump-how-high that Addison does when it comes to pleasing their parents, but he still came straightaway when Bizzy called to notify him of the date and time of the service.

"No," Archer responds. "But to be fair, I haven't exactly been looking for her."

"She's not upstairs." Addison says this more to herself than to her brother. She already checked the entire second floor, the dining room, Bizzy's office, and the sunroom. And she can see the garden from the sunroom – no WASP-like, judgmental and withholding movement out there, either. "And she didn't mention going anywhere this morning…and we both know she didn't go sailing with the Captain…"

"Maybe she went down to the basement to get something," Archer suggests. "It's liquid o'clock somewhere, right?"

"Looks like it's liquid o'clock right here, too." Addison stares pointedly at the highball glass in her brother's hand. "I know it's always rough having to come here, but jeez, Archie. At seven in the morning?"

"Well, like you said, little sis: it's rough being here. Where's your not-better-half?"

Addison rolls her eyes at this description. "Derek just got out of the shower. He'll be down in a minute."

"Okay. So…do you want me to…?"

"No, you stay," Addison says. "I'll go check the wine cellar."

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Mark waits in the guest room, perched on the bed and staring at his knees. Addison came back in at one point, rushing down the hall and mumbling something about a watch as she went into the master bedroom, but then she went outside again. But now she's back – pale, teary-eyed – and something in her body language indicates it's just the two of them again, that Amy has left.

"I…I feel…" Addison's voice breaks apart as rough, aching sobs start to spill from her lips. Her hands fold against her stomach. "I feel like I'm going to be sick."

Mark quickly helps her to the bathroom connected to his bedroom. Addison sits down near the toilet, and he settles himself close by, back against the nearest wall. After a few shuddering sobs but no gagging or dry-heaving, Addison scoots over to sit in Mark's lap. He folds his arms around her and her head finds its way to his shoulder, and he listens while Addison stammers out bits and pieces of her conversation with Amy.

"She won't tell anyone, Red," Mark says when Addison starts to settle down, her sobs having died down to whimpers and drained, sniffling bursts of air. "She said she wouldn't and just...it's Amy. That's not really who she is, you know? You know she won't tell anyone, especially Derek. It's gonna be okay." He smooths a hand over Addison's face, wiping at her warm, sweat-beaded forehead and eyebrows.

He's right and he's wrong, Addison decides. Amy – Amelia – won't tell anyone. But it's not going to be okay. How could it be?

"I wanted this weekend to be perfect, but obviously…obviously this is what I get for cheating on my husband and being an adulterous bitch. When Amelia…before she said she wouldn't say anything…I tried to imagine how I would even begin to have this conversation with Derek. It's ridiculous-sounding, I know, but I haven't allowed myself to think about telling him the truth. Or what…what I would even say, because how could I even begin to explain…" Addison shakes her head and rubs at her tear-dampened eyelashes. "And telling Derek would mean...I don't know. He wouldn't stay with me, if he knew this was an ongoing thing – and that's not to say he would stay if I told him it just happened once, but I think we can both agree there's more of a chance he'd be willing to try to work things out if it was just a one-night stand. But mostly I just…if I told Derek, that would mean this would have to be over and I don't – I don't want it to be over, Mark. I like getting to be with you, even though I know it's not…it's not…" she starts to cry harder again. "Don't you feel guilty that Amy – that Amy…?"

"Yeah, of course I do. I feel guilty a lot, Red. I know my moral compass can be screwed-up sometimes, but I still feel…" Mark hesitates when she starts gasping into his chest. "Hey…slow breaths, okay? Slow. Slow." He works a hand gently over Addison's spine to comfort her, and occasionally murmurs reminders to breathe slowly.

"I really did want this weekend to be perfect," Addison whispers once she's calm again.

"I mean…yeah, this was one of the most unideal things to ever happen, but realistically, you know things between us will never be perfect. They can't be. Not like this, anyway. But Amy isn't going to say anything, and we can still try to enjoy the rest of the weekend. Right?" Mark brushes his lips to her hairline. "I hate seeing you like this though…seeing you cry."

"I don't cry that often," she replies in a small voice.

"I didn't mean it like that. It's not a problem or anything. But I'm sorry I can't fix it, and I'm just…sorry for a lot of things, I guess," Mark states, looking down to catch her gaze. He doesn't ever feel the urge to look away when Addison gets upset. He has never experienced that before. He's always had such a distrust and distaste for intimacy, and for any unanticipated displays of emotion. Not with Addison though. He thinks this is part of what love means, and it scares the hell out of him.

"Me too. A lot of things for me, too. But this is helping. You give nice hugs." Addison sits up a little straighter. "I can get up now. I'm not going to throw up." She considers that maybe this is just how she will feel from now on. Sick without being sick. Even when the feeling isn't prominent, it'll still be a shadow that ghosts along beside her.

"Okay, good. How about you get in the shower with me?"

Addison frowns. "I'm not really in the mood for re-christening activities right now, Mark…"

"That's a one-hundred percent fair assumption, but it's actually not why I suggested it. I just meant you're kind of clammy, and you're shivering, too. Let's take a quick shower and get you warm. And then you can stay here and relax and I'll go get sandwiches from that place you mentioned."

Addison smiles slowly and climbs out of his lap so they can get to their feet. "They come with these huge pickles on the side," she says while Mark turns the shower faucet on. "You'll like that."

"I will indeed. And then we can revisit…" Mark has already started stepping out of his clothes (which prompts Addison to do the same), and of course he times it perfectly so that his boxer briefs are coming down just in time for him to the finish the thought: "The subject of other huge pickles later today."

"You're so gross."

Mark reaches out a hand to test the temperature, and when he deems the water hot enough, he walks into the shower. "And yet I'm not the one who is kind of a sweaty mess right now."

"I'm still…" Addison sniffles and offers him a weak grin when he takes a step back so she can join him under the spray. "I'm still desirable and wildly attractive. Even when I'm a sweaty mess."

"You're not gonna hear any counterargument from me about that. And hey…you're okay," Mark circles his arms around her waist and pulls her close. Steam swirls at their feet. And maybe Addison is okay; she can truly almost believe Mark – believe anything – when he holds her like this. "You're okay," Mark repeats, and she nods faintly while he reaches for a near-empty shampoo bottle.

Addison can see what he's grabbed off the caddy, but she still smiles in surprise when he moves her out of the immediate path of cascading water, and she murmurs a soft oh when Mark squeezes a dollop of shampoo onto his palm and starts washing her hair. His fingers are soft and soothing as they graze over her scalp and work through her damp strands.

"Thank you," she says, her smile expanding. "You're so sweet. And…you're right; we still have the rest of today. And the rest of the weekend. It'll be better."

"It will," Mark says in agreement. He moves her back under the water and lifts her chin with his index finger so the shampoo can begin to make its descent. "It'll be good; you'll see."

"Yeah. The thing is that I…I always feel good when I'm with you, Mark. Even when I feel bad, even when I feel guilty, even when I freaking get caught by my sister-in-law, I still…" Addison shifts a little, pleating her fingers against his shoulders and resting her head on his water-layered chest. "When it's just us…I always feel good when I get to be with you."

Mark wonders if she can feel how much his heartbeat quickened when she shared this.

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Thank you for reading! References below:

Grey's 9x01 flashback scene between Mark and Derek, talking/getting ready before Derek and Addison's wedding:

Mark: "Addison's great, but one woman for the rest of your life? It's not what God intended. Especially for men who look like us. God intended for us many, many women…a staggering number of women.
Derek: "I just hope you didn't forget the rings."
Mark: "Derek…you're lucky to have me. You will never, ever find another friend as good as me, ever."

And also, Grey's 3x25, because apparently Mark really DID feel he was a good best man, and didn't think to, you know, READ THE ROOM when bringing this up to Derek down the road:

Mark: "…and how's the best man? Up to the challenge? I was an excellent best man."
Derek, speaking to Burke: "You know, the worst case scenario is I sleep with your wife in ten years."

Nod to Grey's 3x02: Addison tells Miranda (aka AMANDA in this scene omg) that she is desirable and wildly attractive. There was also a nod to a PP season 4 episode where, when Amelia comes back from Seattle (after Derek was shot), she tells Addison she slept with Mark, and Addison makes a comment about Mark having a face like an angel and hips like the devil (I thoroughly enjoyed that line, but that whole scene was awkward, honestly, especially the body language between Addison and Amelia…feel free to share this sentiment with me). And there was also a nod to Mark's preference for bone dry cappuccinos in this chapter.

Amelia (Amy) reminders (cut to narrator voice saying, "previously, on darlingwrecks' notes…"):

- Amelia overdosed as a teenager on prescription pills and was revived by Derek. Part of what Amelia said to Addison is pulled from the episode in PP where she went to rehab (the line about it not being real and gasping for her final breaths...you can fire up the ol' Google if you're so inclined to know the exact wording.).

- Amelia once caught Addison and Mark, and she kept their secret. I think Addison and Mark are kind of dummies about a lot of things when things get steamy between them (LOCKING DOORS FOR INSTANCE), and as I said last chapter, we don't know the when/where/how compromising it actually looked/etc. of Amelia catching them. I'd like to think it wasn't at some sort of giant Shepherd gathering (e.g., Christmas or something), but some sort of fluke, oh-I-guess-I-can-see-how-that-might-happen thing like I wrote for this fic. And in the scene in this chapter where Amelia walks in on them, what Addison initially said to Amelia and Amelia's response was a nod to the flashback in Grey's 3x01 when Addison is scrambling down the stairs after Derek and tells him, "It was one time. I know that's what people say, I know that's what always gets said, but it…I don't even know how it happened. I don't know what I was thinking. [Mark] was just here!" (That's coming, btw)

- Amelia wears a watch that once belonged to her father. It's very important to her (important enough that even Addison knows its significance). And Amelia did say at one point that Addison was a better sister to her than the ones she has.

- Amelia completed her surgical residency at Johns Hopkins (unclear if she completed her to neuro fellowship there as well before working as a teaching fellow at Harvard Medical School). And she went by Amy as a child/teen/young adult, but prefers Amelia now.