Chapter title is a lyric in the song "April" by Sleeping At Last. This was one of my favorite chapters to write so far.
Please note that this chapter comes with a trigger/content warning: it contains references/descriptions of self-harm, a suicide attempt and several discussions in its aftermath, and mentions of blood in a non-surgical way. Take care of yourselves, kiddos, and always find a way to use your voice when you need help.
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Chapter 16. The Air is Perfect, Tonight
Mark crawls into bed first. He shifts onto his side and faces the door of the guest room, waiting for Addison. She is one room over, brushing her teeth and getting changed. When they got to the Hamptons this morning – before everything took a dramatic turn due to the unexpected landing of Hurricane Amelia – they didn't think twice about the arrangement when it came to their belongings: Mark brought his suitcase to the guest room, and she set hers in the master. But the concept of separate belongings is getting murkier, because now Addison is walking into Mark's room in a Subway Series shirt (Mark tries not to think about the fact that when he purchased this overpriced, sort-of-gaudy shirt at Game 2, Derek was with him). A few weeks ago, Addison spilled some wine on her blouse – or rather, Mark accidentally knocked into her, which caused her to spill the wine – so he lent her this shirt. There was no cause for alarm or frantic cleaning, because Addison knew with absolute certainty Derek was going to be working late; Mark imagines she walked boldly into the brownstone wearing his shirt (still a little stupid regardless of Derek's absence, he feels) and tucked it in the back of one of her drawers with plans to return it later. And then Mark sort of forgot about it.
She's wearing it on purpose, right? he thinks as Addison joins him under the comforter. For me?
"We don't have to have sex tonight, if you're not feeling it," Mark says when she cups his cheek and leans in to kiss him. The shirt – which swallows Addison's slender frame – and flannel pajama bottoms don't send off an alarm that she's in the mood, and she also just looks tired. Women never end up faking it with Mark as far as he can tell, and Addison would certainly enjoy herself once they get going, but he still knows what a forced expression of anticipation looks like. "It's okay if you just want to sleep," he continues when Addison drifts back on an elbow, regarding him with mild curiosity. "It's been...well. It's been a day."
Addison offers him a tiny smile. "Yeah, it has been. Just sleeping sounds kind of nice," she acknowledges. Mark smiles back; he's almost relieved, actually, because he's tired, too. He rolls onto his back, and since they're still close to one another, it doesn't take anything more than a slight tug on the material of Addison's shirt – his shirt – to coax her forward so that her head is on his chest. "You're cuddling with me," she says quietly when Mark's arms surround her, one dipping under the arch of her neck to frame her shoulder blade, and the other grazing against her elbow when she settles in and gets more comfortable.
Mark has admittedly been a little curious about this sleeping thing ever since Addison asked him if he wanted to go to the Hamptons with her. They have never spent an entire night together; they are careful about covering their clandestine footsteps so Addison can continue to play the role of disgruntled-but-faithful wife. The one time they did plan for Addison to spend the night, Mark told her he loved her, which led to an argument and to them decidedly not spending the night together. He went to the brownstone the following night and apologized…okay, so technically that time he did sleep over, Mark realizes, but they didn't do much sleeping, so he isn't quite convinced that actually counts. And it wasn't planned, at any rate.
He thinks he could get used to this though.
"I do have capabilities in the sack that go beyond sexual ones, you know. And I'm also just..." his voice becomes serious. "I'm just trying to make sure you're doing okay."
"I am." Addison moves her fingertips along his shoulder. "Thank you though; I think I need this right now. But...re-christening the shower isn't off the table, just so you know. We still have tomorrow and like half of Sunday."
"And just so you know...whatever you're plotting sexually for tomorrow morning isn't going to distract me. I still want to jump in the ocean."
Addison's eyebrows rumple together in opposition. "It's too cold."
"Sounds like a hot shower with a really hot redhead will be the perfect post-swim activity then."
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. .
When the Captain comes out of Bizzy's room, he repeats what Addison, Derek, and Archer have been discussing: they're going to transfer Bizzy to Glenville…in about an hour. The timing is new though; Addison assumed it would be a few more hours.
"I need to leave in like twenty minutes," Addison says. "I can meet you guys there afterwards; I'm not going to the reception, so I shouldn't be long…" her voice falls away and she starts to clamp down on the inside of her cheek. She doesn't want to not be here when Bizzy is transferred, but she also doesn't can't miss Susan's funeral. Someone from this family has to go, and neither the Captain nor Archer have made mention of it in the past twenty-four hours. While Addison was getting dressed this morning – head-to-toe black – she debated what lie she would tell Susan's sister and Bizzy and Susan's mutual friends (though Addison suspects they didn't share a lot of mutual friends) when they asked about her mother's absence. Food poisoning is probably the easiest one. Is…is that why this happened before the funeral? she found herself thinking. Not just because of not being able to face the grief, but also so Bizzy wouldn't have to feel like a stranger at the funeral of someone presented as only her friend?
Addison knows on this day with absolute certainty, even though most of the time in the future she'll shy away from said certainty because if Bizzy hasn't declared it outright, then there isn't actually tangible proof. And more than that, Addison doesn't want to allow herself to think about the fact that everything she thought she knew about her childhood was probably a sham. It disrupts too many things about life, love, marriage, and relationships.
"So are we really not going to discuss why this happened? Or are we just waiting until we're, like, in a safe house where it's Montgomerys only and we can sign non-disclosure agreements?" Addison asks snappishly, not able to help herself. Her gaze flickers between her father and brother. Derek has gone to get her a coffee and then he's leaving. Her husband, who will probably thoughtfully grab something for her to eat even though Addison didn't ask, and held her last night while she fitfully slept…in the end, surgery always steers him away. Addison has begun to realize over the past few months that Derek is not the man she married anymore. And people change, of course. She and Derek aren't so young anymore; they are thirty-four and thirty-five, respectively. But Addison knows she hasn't changed so much that it means her desire to chase after the next big surgery, the next clinical trial, the next medical-anything, comes before her marriage. Addison and Derek came to Connecticut to support Bizzy by attending Susan's funeral…but now Bizzy cannot attend the funeral, which apparently…changes things. And then Derek checked his work cell even though he promised he wouldn't, saw a message from a colleague, and that was that.
Archer shrugs at his sister's question. "Bizzy misses her best friend and probably has zero coping skills when it comes to processing loss. She also doesn't have real friends besides Susan, right? She has people she associates with. The women from the Greenwich Society, Junior League, her gardening club...none of that is real, right? It's just surface level. So that has to make it harder, too. And people sometimes do stupid things when they're in distress. Or maybe..." Archer glances at the Captain, his expression wary. "Has anything else been going on? Has Bizzy been depressed or had suicidal ideation before? Captain...?"
Their father appears as though he is barely listening, but he tunes back in when he hears his name, and even though it was Archer speaking, his eyes lock with Addison first. It's truly a look he gives her. He knows, doesn't he? Addison feels her chest tighten. He has to know.
"I can't have this conversation. I'm going back in there."
Archer sighs his displeasure when the Captain steps back into Bizzy's room. "Notice the wording. He said he can't have this conversation, not that he can't have it right now. God, this family of status-obsessed, look-the-other-way, judgmental wolves we were born into. Well...at least now we know we can never bring it up. Might as well know that right off the bat while Bizzy and the Captain handle this matter privately."
"Archer…"
"It's done, Addison. I'm getting out of here for a bit; I need some air. Tell Susan's family that I'm sorry for their loss. I'll…I'll see you back at the house."
Addison goes to the funeral alone. She feels alone that day, too.
And so many days that follow, too.
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"I'll be fine," Mark tells Addison while she pinches one of the edges of the striped beach blanket between her fingers while a bit of a scowl (part annoyance, part amusement) is playing at her mouth. Wind sways around them, so Mark speaks louder while gesturing to his current attire. "At least this time I have a wetsuit – that will help. Plus, isn't it kind of fun for you to unashamedly check me out in a tight wetsuit? You don't even have to be subtle." Addison knows what he's getting at, of course. In the BA ("Before Affair," coined by Savvy), she would have been more discreet if Mark was shirtless (or in a wetsuit, as it now stands), and would have looked away out of respect to her husband, whether or not Derek was present. Not this time though. And it really is a nice visual. "We'll get you one this afternoon, Red. And then tomorrow morning you can join me."
"Your efforts will be futile. I have absolutely no plans to come with you," Addison says, but she grins while saying it. Nothing about getting in the Atlantic this time of year appeals to her, but if she did, it does occur to her that Mark would probably hold her close. And he would find a lot of ways to warm her up afterwards.
"You have no plans to come with me…" Mark repeats, a devilish smirk appearing on his face. "I can't speak for swimming, but our sexual history together says otherwise." He gives her a cocky wink and then walks down towards the shoreline. "Just give me a few minutes."
A few minutes is all you've got? Addison almost banters back, and the fact that she's embracing Mark's brand of humor…it's truly a sign of how deeply her life has become entwined with his.
She frowns when she feels her cell phone vibrate in the pouch pocket of her Columbia sweatshirt. She wants to be present this weekend, but she can't exactly ignore real life given that this isn't real-real life in the Hamptons with Mark. And the frown persists when Addison sees who is calling, but she feels an accompanying stab of worry in her stomach, because she always, always will now when her mother's name flashes across the screen. She stands up and accepts the call, walking further away from the ocean in order to hear better.
"Good morning, Bizzy."
"Good morning," Bizzy answers. There's a long pause. "Your connection is poor. I can barely hear you. You should have someone come out to your home to -"
"I'm in the Hamptons," Addison interrupts. She sees Mark in the distance swimming long, clean strokes through the metallic flush of water. He slips neatly beneath a wave about to break while Addison provides her mother with more information: "I'm at the beach right now, so that's why the connection isn't great. I'm with my friend Savvy. She's -"
"I remember her. Please tell her I say hello. And that I hope she and her husband are doing well."
"I will." This has always vaguely annoyed Addison, that Bizzy does seem to like and approve of the friends Addison made in college and med school, the friends who are still her friends. Bizzy always seemed shocked that Addison was capable of finding people outside the thoroughbred kids essentially hand-selected by Bizzy to interact with her children. They were always supposedly the right sort of people.
"Lovely. I won't keep you long since I can't hear you well, but I wanted to let you know Susan's memorial is going to be on the ninth."
"Okay. Thank you. I'm glad you told me."
Addison went to the small gathering at Bruce Park that Susan's sister hosted on the closest Saturday to the first anniversary of Susan's death, and she went to the one last year, too. The third-year one likely won't be possible though…April ninth is just too close to Savvy's due date. Addison will talk to Bizzy about this later though when the reception is less crappy, and when she has more time to prepare words that are gentle and measured.
"Andrea is apparently doing a balloon release again." Bizzy sighs with enough volume that Addison pulls the phone away from her ear. "It's so tacky. What is this, a child's birthday party?"
"I know it's not really your style, but it sounds like Andrea is just trying to do something nice," Addison replies calmly. She knows she is going to hear plenty of remarks like this in the coming weeks, and vows to respond with patience each time.
And Addison really does feel bad that she won't be able to come. It's not the sort of thing Bizzy would invite the Captain or Archer to. And, well…Bizzy doesn't actually invite Addison either, because asking for something just isn't in Bizzy's nature. The invitation always hangs in the air between them though; Bizzy calls to tell Addison the date, she offers to attend, and Bizzy doesn't object to this offer.
It's possibly the closest they've come in years to mother-daughter bonding. And Addison of course understands that in spite of all the complaining about balloons and other aesthetic deficiencies, why her mother feels a sense of urgency to attend these things for Susan.
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"I looked at the schedule in Bizzy's office. The cleaning people come on Tuesday," Addison tells Archer, and he both nods and grimaces his understanding. It's too many days away. They can't just leave the wine cellar how it currently is. "And I spoke with the Captain and he said -"
"Oh, I can imagine. Getting the cellar professionally cleaned would mean people outside the immediate family would know about this. So God forbid 'the help' do it."
"He's going to stay the night with Bizzy at Glenville." Addison imagines her father pulled some strings in order to do this. "And he said he'd clean it up tomorrow, but he...he can't do that, Archie. It would destroy him. I don't want to go against his wishes if he doesn't want to have outside people come in, but -"
"Addie…" Archer shakes his head when he realizes where she is going with this. "No."
"We could do it together…"
"I can't, Addison. I…I can't." Archer inhales roughly, and looks away when his eyes become glassy. "And I know that's selfish, but I can't. I won't. It's self-preservation; I can't do that to myself, and you shouldn't do that to yourself, either. If it's something you're determined to do so that no one else has to, go ahead; I'm sorry, but I'm not coming with you."
So Addison does it alone. She strips out of her funeral clothes; she raids a closet to gather a bucket, mop, cleaning gloves, rags, bleach, and an abrasive sponge; and she goes down to the wine cellar by herself. It almost feels quaint that she used to associate the cellar with claustrophobia, of being trapped in the dark. Not anymore.
And in the end, Addison is certain she has wiped away more tears than she has drops of blood.
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"Mm. That was amazing," Addison murmurs into Mark's ear. The heavy bursts of air they've been dragging in and out are finally starting to slow down, to return to normal, which has made speaking a bit easier. She places a lingering, appreciative kiss to Mark's jawline, and then lifts herself out of his lap, craving nothing more than getting to stretch her legs. She lies down on her side of the bed – well, sort of the middle of the bed, since their pillows are touching and it's a King – and drapes her elbows loosely over her head.
Mark settles down next to her. "As amazing the shower earlier?"
"I think you're more obsessed with shower sex than anyone I know. And…maybe. We might need to test it out again later."
"That's a good idea. But hey, Addison…was everything okay this morning?"
"In the shower?" She jokes.
Mark starts to chuckle. "No, sorry. I was going to ask you before the shower or just at some point today…" he rolls over to face her, so she mirrors his posture. Mark doesn't really know if he wants to know the answer because it's been such a great day and he doesn't want to do anything to disrupt that, but it's been on his mind. "When I was in the ocean," he continues, "I could see you on your phone and it didn't seem like a call you really wanted to be on. And you were pacing, which is usually what you do when you're stressed. I thought maybe Derek called or something..."
"No. It was Bizzy. Bad reception though, so luckily I didn't have to talk to her very long. She was calling to tell me about a memorial thing for Susan that's coming up next month. Remember -"
"Yeah," he finishes. "Her friend slash lover."
"Right." Addison is quiet for a moment, teeth sinking into her lower lip in contemplation. "Do you think…do you think balloon releases are tacky?"
"I mean." Mark shrugs, uncertain. "They're bad for the environment, but as far as being tacky…I don't know. Probably not. I guess it's kind of a nice gesture."
"That's what I told Bizzy. She gets so worked up about the details of the things Andrea – that's Susan's sister – puts together. Balloon releases, sheet cakes, the fact that people wear jeans to these gatherings…things like that. It's just clear that Bizzy hates going to the yearly memorials, but she feels an obligation to. She wasn't able to attend Susan's funeral. She…couldn't."
"Why?"
"Derek honestly never told you?" Addison has asked Mark this once before, when the subject briefly came up. She wonders if maybe Derek really is just that good and respectful about privacy; or it's that nothing involving Addison really matters or affects him much anymore.
"He's never told me anything about Bizzy missing Susan's funeral. Or anything about Bizzy from around that time. You can tell me though, if you want. I'm listening." Mark thinks for a moment, and something occurs to him. "A few months ago, that weekend we were here: you went into the closet to grab a flashlight, and you mentioned an 'incident' with Bizzy, and that was what freaked you out about small spaces…but you didn't want to talk about it. Is it about that?"
"Yeah. And now I…" Addison feels her voice break, and fights back against the lump threatening to fill her throat. "I do kind of want to tell you about it." She isn't sure why, but ever since this morning's phone call, she's felt such a pull to tell him.
"Okay. C'mere first." Mark adjusts himself on his pillow to make room for her to share it, and then draws her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. It's the right thing to do, to hug Addison while she tells him, and he thinks maybe she'll feel more comfortable talking to him about it if he keeps her close. He senses that whatever it is, it's serious. "Tell me when you're ready," he adds gently.
"Okay. So. The day before Susan's funeral, Bizzy tried to kill herself." She can immediately feel the protraction of Mark's chest, and hear the quiet, wet gasp of disbelief. "Yeah. I was looking for her that morning and couldn't find her, so I decided to check the wine cellar. The infamous one that Patch Gold locked me in when I was a little girl. So I went down to the cellar. The door was closed, but I could see the strip of light underneath it, so I knew Bizzy was in there. I called out her name as I walked over, but I didn't get a response, so I went ahead and opened the door. And I knew I was going to see something bad, I somehow just knew that I was, but I still didn't think…I didn't think it would be that bad. There was…" Addison pulls in a shuddery breath and feels Mark's arms tighten around her. "There was so much blood. Like, everywhere. She broke a wine bottle – the room is insulated, so none of us heard it – and took one of the jagged edges and slit her wrists." Addison shifts back, realigning herself on the pillow so that they are face-to-face. She wants to see him.
Mark's knuckles drag over her cheek. "Addison…"
She forces herself to keep going. "I yelled for help. My voice…eventually it went hoarse from the yelling. The Captain was out on the Sound, but Archer and Derek were there. I pulled my cardigan off to help stop the bleeding and then…then Archer and Derek were down there with me. One of them called 911 while the other helped me with the bleeding…I don't know which…" Addison shakes her head. "Not that that detail matters, but it's crazy how many things about that day ended up being a blur. Trauma just sort of edits you and everything around you, you know? Anyway, the ambulance came and Bizzy went to the ER. She was stabilized, and then transferred to an outpatient facility the next afternoon…which was the day of Susan's funeral. And now…Bizzy is doing okay now. It took some time, but she's…she's functioning. There's peaks and valleys, but she's functioning. She and the Captain are actually closer now, I think. After it happened though, she started taking an antidepressant and started talking to a therapist…that's all I really know. She might not be doing either of those things anymore. But even…even if she wasn't doing okay, even if she still felt broken from the inside out, I don't think she'd attempt something like that again. All the attention embarrassed her, as did…as did not being able to finish the job, I guess. I know how dark that sounds. And she never…we never talked about it again. Not really, anyway. That…that feels so nice, Mark," Addison mumbles, veering off topic when he starts stroking her hair. He offers her a small, encouraging smile and kisses the bridge of her nose. "She was out to sea and she…she almost drowned. And I called Bizzy a lot that first year to check in – and she always seemed weirded out that I was calling to check in, since that wasn't the Forbes Montgomery way. I'd ask how she was doing though and she'd say she was fine and that I didn't have to worry, but that's not really…a real talk. That's what Bizzy was able to give me though, and I guess it's better than nothing. But I…I wanted to talk about it with her. I still do; I just don't know where to start."
Mark's hand stills against the back of her head. "What would you want to tell her?" He asks.
Addison's tears finally start to fall. "That I'm sorry," she says, voice cracking again.
"You're sorry?"
"Yeah." She nods wearily and closes her eyes. "First, that I'm sorry for the excruciating pain Bizzy was clearly in. We're all guaranteed pain in life, but not everyone feels it like that. The grief and just…everything above and beyond the grief. And that I'm sorry…I'm sorry if I in any way contributed to the pain by…by just doing what I did. Since Bizzy isn't in a place of such acute distress anymore she has a better sense of things, of what's rational and what isn't, but I always wondered if she was angry at me for saving her. And I'm relieved Bizzy's still here, and I think she is too – or she's at least not upset about it anymore – but that probably wasn't how she felt initially, and for that I'm apologetic. She probably didn't want to be saved. I…I've never told anyone that before, about the angry thing. And it's almost fitting in a way…I went looking for her because I've always been so freaking desperate for my mother's love and approval, and then I saved her…but it was really just another way in which I was disappointing her, because if Bizzy had it her way, I wouldn't have saved her. So I ruined it. And the thing is that I'd understand if Bizzy was angry; not everyone wants to be saved or thinks their life is worth saving when they're that deep in a sea of suffering. But now…I think she's reached a peaceful space, or at least a bearable space to live out her remaining years. She doesn't have Susan, but she has my dad and a lot of things to keep her occupied, and I know in her way – her own way – she loves me. And while I don't think she's mad at me, I wish I could have known for certain if she ever was, and that we could have talked about it. Anyway." Addison opens her eyes, blinking slowly as Mark's face comes back into view. "That's…that's what I wanted to tell you, Mark. And I guess it's also just that…after all this time, I thought Bizzy would at least ask me if I'm okay, too." She breathes in deeply, and then slowly exhales. Her face feels tingly from the exhaustion and anxiety of sharing this, and her throat is painfully constricted, but there's also a sense of relief sailing through her. Like something has been lifted.
She shed her clothes earlier when she and Mark got into bed. But now she's shedding something else, too. She's never been this vulnerable with anyone before.
"I'm so sorry," Mark finally says, voice low and croaky. "I'm sorry, Red."
"Thank you. I'm glad I told you, but it's…it's okay, Mark." She can see the worry in his light blue eyes. "I promise I'm okay. Or, well…" she shrugs weakly, and tries to smile. "Mostly, anyway."
Mark pulls her closer again, brushing his mouth against her cheek. "I know you are, but that's still something really, really horrible to have to go through, and to have to carry with you." His lips are soothing as they trace over her dampened skin.
"It was. It is," Addison confirms. And Derek's patience with it being a really, really horrible thing came with a time limit, but she knows that's partly on her, too: she never tried to talk to him about the guilt, and the deep-rooted fear that maybe Bizzy resented her. But with Mark…she wanted to. That's the difference. "You're kissing my tears away," she whispers, voice etched with tenderness when she realizes the comforting path Mark is making along her cheeks and jawbone is somewhat deliberate.
Mark pulls back to grin at her. "There you go again, underestimating me," he teases. "You don't always have to be so surprised when I do something nice. I do care about you, you know."
"I know. And I care about you too, Mark. I…I love you. I'm in love with you."
"You are?"
"Yes." Addison lightly touches his chest, watching as a smile explodes across Mark's face. It's his turn to be surprised. And maybe hers again, because she's thought about saying it – wanted to say it – for a few days now, but she wasn't sure if she could, or would. It's a big thing to have allowed herself to do. "But please don't ask what I'm going to do," she continues quickly, "because I don't know what I'm going to do." Mark nods, still smiling, but he tries to look serious at this. "Let's just stay in this weekend's bubble. But just know that I love you and you...you don't have to change anything for me about…about us and, like, things that happen when we're not together. I can't ask anything else from you or of you. Not like this, when I'm still married. It wouldn't be fair."
You can ask me, Mark thinks. Ask me to and I will. It can just be you, Addison. I want that.
It's never been like this before. Yes, Mark's had girlfriends, and although he wasn't alwaysfaithful when all was said and done, he feels like he could have been…if he wanted to be. And that's the thing: he wants to, now. He just wants Addison. Only Addison.
Addison shakes her head when she can tell Mark's silence is indicative of the fact that he is preparing counter statements. "Mark. You're hearing me, right? Nothing can really change."
"Okay. I'm hearing you. If that's what you want, then okay."
"Thank you. It wasn't…you know, yesterday was pretty bad, but today…today was a good day."
"Yeah. It was."
"You missed a tear, by the way." Addison smirks and points to a droplet hovering near the outer corner of her eye. "You should probably take care of that."
Mark smiles and kisses the lingering moisture, and then slides his lips down near her earlobe. "I love you," he says softly. It's sort of extraordinary. He never gets to say this. And he never gets to hear it.
"I love you too, Mark."
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. .
Addison is up before Mark the next morning, and decides to get the coffee started. She stands by the kitchen window while the coffee is brewing, taking in the blush pinks, purples, and blues of a just-passing dawn as the sun creeps over the horizon. They are heading back to Manhattan this afternoon, so she felt compelled to get up early, to hold onto the remaining time they have. And she knows Mark won't sleep in late, anyway; he wants to go to the beach again. He did end up buying her a wetsuit yesterday while they were down near the harbor. Addison knows she's going to hate every minute of being in the water…but she likes every minute of being with him.
She can hear Mark coming into the kitchen, so she doesn't jump in surprise when he wraps his arms around her from behind, and rests his lips against her neck. It strikes her that it's so intimate. And so…couple-ish. But they are a couple now, in some sense.
"You sleep okay?" Mark asks.
"Yes." Addison reaches a hand back to affectionately stroke the back of his neck. "I was just thinking that I love...I love who I get to be when I'm with you."
I love you. Saying it, or drifting closer to saying it – there are so many variances of it that start to come up for couples. I love the way you make me feel. I love when you wear your hair like that. I love your laugh. I love the way your mind works. Things like that.
And this observation Addison shared is the truth, plain and simple, with or without a particular type of love assigned to it. It's not just about sex with Mark, and although sex is what got them to this point, she is beginning to consider that in some ways maybe it never was just about sex.
It couldn't be. Not when she feels something this deeply, this intensely.
Maybe it's that they had similar childhoods, marred with loneliness, questionable parenting, and privilege that should have been a comfort, but was really just a damage-laden burden to carry around on their wealthy shoulders each day. Maybe it's that they share certain characteristics, ones Derek either doesn't have or snubs his nose at. Maybe it's that they have been such good friends for such a long time. Maybe it's that she feels like she could tell him absolutely anything.
Or maybe it's just…something new. Mark sees her. Really sees her. And knows her. And doesn't judge her. Addison doesn't have to apologize for anything she is or isn't, or be anything other than herself around him. He makes her feel like she's enough. He loves her like she's enough.
"Me too," Mark replies, and Addison doesn't ask him to clarify if he means that he also loves who she gets to be or if he loves who he gets to be when he's with her.
She thinks that it's probably both.
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References/Nods to Various Episodes:
First, I forgot to mention in the last chapter that the line "I'm an easy mark for evil redheads" was pulled from Grey's 3x19. Mark and Addison were discussing weaknesses. That's Mark's weakness. And Addison reported that she has none…she's "that good."
The "underestimating me" comment is a nod to Grey's 3x14. Addison and Mark were watching Burke and Derek duke it out for Chief of Surgery.
Mark: "Aren't you gonna get in there? You wanna be Chief, you gotta fight with the big boys."
Addison: "Oh, I intend to fight like a girl. I'll let them kill each other and then I'll be the only one left standing."
Mark: "And then there's me. There you go underestimating me again."
Addison: "Oh, it's not that I underestimate you, it's just that I don't think about you. At all."
Mark: "Well, you should." (And then we know how that episode ends and that was an extremely steamy scene and I am actually puzzled – though NOT complaining – that network peeps didn't try to tone it down a little…this was like 2007) (Also I died of the cuteness in an earlier scene when Mark was stroking Addison's hair when she, her fellow attendings, and lines-of-deliciousness Alex were recovering from being exposed to the patient with toxic blood. And also Addison was such a badass and I also died when Mark caught her after she stumbled out of the OR after helping the patient who was starting to wake up.)
In PP 3x11, before Mark and Addison are lying on the floor of her office (naked and basically presenting themselves towards Addison's UNLOCKED door, as one does…God these two are so dumb), Addison revealed to Mark that Bizzy was a lesbian, and said, "Which means the Captain wasn't a cheater. It was all a sham…my whole childhood. Everything I believed about my dad, my mom, love, marriage, it's all turned on its head." And then the "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Red," lines is near the end of this episode. *sobs*
In PP season 2, Archer describes Addison to her then-boyfriend Kevin as a "thoroughbred."
In PP 4x14, Addison was talking to her brother about how Bizzy died/how she found her: "She was broken from grief. She was out to sea and she drowned. It doesn't make her selfish. It doesn't even mean that she didn't love us in her own way."
A Bizzy quote from PP 3x10: "I could have done things. I could have been things…I got married because that was what I was supposed to do. And I chose your father because he asked. And he was nice. And he seemed like he wouldn't suffocate me. And by the time I realized my mistake, I had children. So I made a life. I did what I could with what I had. And I may not have been in love with your father, but I loved him. I do love him. And I loved you and your brother. And so instead of doing what I wanted to, which was run or slit my wrists, I threw birthday parties and I smiled and I kept my mouth shut." This was an incredibly visceral, well-acted scene between Kate Walsh and her onscreen mother, JoBeth Williams – there are certain scenes throughout PP that I feel like, were the show more popular across the board, might have been worthy of some award nominations, and this was one of them for me. So, as far as Bizzy's suicide attempt referenced throughout this chapter (and as you know, this diverts heavily from canon)...I don't think that would ever, ever have been Bizzy's "way" of ending her life even in the absence of pills, but sometimes I like to made my nods to canon scenes as literal as possible.
Thank you for reading! Next chapter will be a bit more Mark-centric with flashbacks. My life is starting to get a bit busier these days for various reasons, so updates will likely come every other week now rather than weekly (who knows though, this could def be subject to change). Thanks for your patience/understanding. :)