A/N: Okay I had no idea that the little dashes I was doing to break up sections were not showing up, which was essentially making each chapter look like one long-winded thing. Which, EW. Sorry about that. That's obnoxious, so kudos to anyone who powered through. All chapters have been fixed with the appropriate horizontal lines. :)


Chapter 54. Stars Around My Scars

"He's seriously the happiest little guy," Savvy says as Meredith hands a cooing Henry to her. A few hours have passed since Addison witnessed that treasured first smile from her son. The three women are now sitting in a circle, and every few minutes Henry gets shifted to the left so someone else can have a turn to hold him. Just the women though. Derek and Mark are on the other side of the living room, backs to one another, a rainbow of magnetic tiles scattered between them. Kate moseys back-and-forth between groups (Weiss and the twins are at Madison Square Garden suffering through a Knicks game), alternating between checking the progress of the robots and building a creation of her own (a dinosaur) in the circle spot that her mom, Savvy, and Meredith have left open.

"You both must have been unbearable as kids," Addison comments with an eye roll once her daughter is out of earshot. She knows Meredith's reasons for coming back to see everyone before heading to LaGuardia are honorable; Derek might have wanted to see everyone too, but he also wants to beat Mark.

"Mark was," Derek mutters in response. Mark does not bother to dispute this accusation. It is very much true.

"All right, Katiebee," Mark calls out a few minutes later. "I'm done, and so is Derek." He has assured Derek that Kate will be a fair judge. If anything, she will probably be harder on Mark. Derek and Meredith do not have toys at their house (yet); Mark technically has access to Magna-Tiles whenever he wants.

"They are both good." Kate determines after scrutinizing the robots. The head on Derek's robot is too big for its body, and her dad's has weird arms, but both are still good enough to get a compliment. Derek's robot is at least better than the one he made the other day. "But…" Kate beams widely. "Mommy's robot is the best."

Mark and Derek twist around, and Addison sweeps her palm out elegantly to show off her robot. She started building it shortly after she determined that the two men are absolute idiots, and neither robot-in-progress looked particularly promising. There is definitely no disputing Addison's robot is the best of the three. By a landslide. It's like the top of the class battle at med school all over again. Addison is just a bit smarter than everyone else, and fights like a girl while the rest of the men, completely oblivious, are only set upon killing each other.

Derek scowls. "Addison what the…hehhh…" he draws the word out in order to catch himself. "H-e double hockey sticks."

"I already know that means the word 'hell,'" Kate answers calmly.

"Kate," Addison says, unable to hold back a smile.

Kate raises both shoulders in a defensive shrug. "Well, it does."


Addison forces herself to count to three while taking slow, measured breaths. One. It has been a good day. She spent time alone with Henry while Mark was downstairs, and at one point Henry started crying and she was able to comfort him without getting upset herself. Two. She picked Kate up after school today, which is something she hasn't done in weeks. She played with both kids this evening. She read Ada Twist, Scientist with Kate at bedtime. Three. There was sadness – is sadness – but it felt lighter today while keeping busy with the kids.

"So…I start therapy in a few days," Addison says haltingly. Mark is busy making Kate's lunch for tomorrow, and Henry is snuggled against her shoulder, drifting along in that fuzzy area between sleep and wakefulness. "I feel like we should talk about it," she continues when Mark glances up. But then she shrugs the shoulder Henry isn't resting on, unsure of where to actually begin.

"You're not embarrassed about talking to someone, are you?" Mark asks, coming over to stand next to her. "I mean, even I went to therapy for a bit, like seven or eight years ago. Everyone should go to therapy at some point."

"Didn't your therapist tell you that you were self-destructive or something?"

He chuckles. "Oh, I remember that one exactly. He said: 'Mark, beneath that rugged and confident exterior, you're self-destructive and self-loathing to an almost pathological degree.' What a line. It's almost poetic, actually. And for four hundred bucks an hour, the words from his mouth should have sounded like they were coming from a world-renowned poet."

"Honey, you know at the time that Derek and I would have told you that about yourself for free, right?"

"Yes, but…" Mark nudges Addison's shoulder as she giggles. Henry's head lifts a little at the sound, but he ends up sighing drowsily into his mother's neck instead, and falls asleep. "In the off chance I took the assessment seriously and actually worked on myself, things might have turned out differently in my life. In our lives."

Addison nudges him back. "Like we both wouldn't have been self-destructive and self-loathing enough to wind up in bed together? It worked out pretty well though," she says, and Mark grins in agreement. "But no, I'm not embarrassed. Postpartum depression and losing my dad a few months ago aside, there's the lonely childhood, weird WASP-y things, anxiety…I probably should have been sitting in the patient chair years ago. I'm just a little nervous. But I know it'll be fine. Should I…should I talk to you about my appointments though? Like, what I talk about with the therapist? That's what I'm trying to say, I think. Or ask, I mean."

"Look…" Mark moves in front of her. The pads of his fingers graze over one of her elbows. "I'm not expecting you to tell me everything, Addison. They're your sessions, not mine. You can tell me everything if that's what you want, but I'm not expecting you to. We have to stay in Vermont though. Therapy isn't a substitute for talking to me. So that's…that's the thing, I guess."

"I won't shut you out," she says quietly. "I promise. Will you come with me though? And wait in the waiting room for me?" She frowns when a funny smile crosses Mark's face. "What?"

"I know you hate when I assume things, but I assumed that was the plan anyway. We're in this together, Addison. And I already asked, and Lauren is available to watch Henry on Thursday – for as long as we need."

Addison exhales. It is the kind of release that triggers a relaxed, full-body sigh. "We're in this together," she repeats, hugging her son a little tighter.


It is an odd contrast in sensations, Addison knows, but also a perfectly pleasant one as she and Mark continue to kiss the following night. Warmth and coldness. The kitchen countertop is chilly beneath her bare legs, but her exposed skin is also warm with perspiration due to the burst of pleasure Mark's tongue drew from her mere minutes ago. Her limbs are tingling and her stomach still feels tight from the muscle-clenching she had to do to keep her voice down, but she is definitely ready to go again.

Except. Except.

"I…wait…" she mumbles with some reluctance as Mark's lips move over her neck.

Mark pulls back, eyebrows raising in a question. He tugs her shirt down and settles his hands on the material covering her hips. The look on her face isn't one of disinterest, but it's also not as simple as an I need more time to come back down to earth after what you just did to me look either. "You okay?" He asks, voice teeming with concern. Addison bites down on the inside of her lower lip. No, he thinks immediately. She looks worried.

It takes Addison a moment to find her voice, and when she does, it is shaky.

"Sorry. My brain is being kind of loud at the moment…I know it's not the ideal time…" her cheeks flush. She wiggles her toes a bit, legs dangling off the edge. "And you're…" she makes a vague gesture with her hand to indicate Mark's obvious arousal straining under his boxer briefs. "I mean. Sorry. I know I'm the one who started this, and I swear my mind wasn't going a million miles a minute while you were -"

"Hey," he interrupts, keeping one hand on her hip, and moving the other up to rub her shoulder. Yes, she did start it. Not that he wasn't a willing, happy participant from the beginning, of course. A few minutes ago he was kneeling on the kitchen floor, one of her legs placed over his shoulder while her hands grasped desperately at the edge of the counter to stay upright (he is pretty impressed she managed to, actually). And now she's seconds away from tears. "Stop. It's okay. Don't be sorry, Red. But tell me what your brain is being loud about."

"I was thinking…when should I go back to work? And when should you go back to work?"

"When you feel ready," Mark says. "For both. And you'll know when that is. Don't attach a timeline to it. There's no rush for either of us, so don't set a date in your head. You'll know when you're ready. And you'll talk about it in therapy, too. But I'm not going anywhere until you tell me to. Okay?"

"Okay. That was…I guess that's kind of it." She presses her lips together. "I know it sounds like a stupid thing to worry about, to get worked up about, especially right now when I'm on the counter with my legs spread, but -"

"It doesn't sound stupid." He frames a hand around her cheekbone, her skin beneath his palm still heated with embarrassment. Addison manages a small nod, and then scoots closer to the edge.

"I just need a hug for a minute," she murmurs, resting her forehead on Mark's chest. She closes her eyes, appreciating the comfort of his arms surrounding her, and his quietness. Logically, she knows she shouldn't apologize or feel bad. She can't help the way she feels, and she can't help when she feels the way she feels. It's still frustrating though.

"Okay," she inhales slowly. "I'm okay. We can resume what we were doing. My brain is being quiet again. For now, at least."

"You sure?" Mark still really, really wants to push inside her, especially when she decides brush her lips to his jaw and smooth her palms over his chest. But he has to ask.

"I'm very, very sure, Mark," she smiles. Addison's eyes sparkle enough that it is clear she is not just putting on an act. "And it looks like you still are, too." She sways her hips impatiently while he rolls down his boxer briefs.

They both sigh happily when he slides into her. "Just make sure your voice doesn't get loud as a substitute for your brain." Mark grins as he starts to move and she wraps her long legs around his waist. "You can't scream when we've got two kids upstairs sleeping."

"I'm not going to scream," Addison responds, leaning back a little with one of his hands supporting her lower back.

It takes a little time before she can add more to this thought though, especially once Mark starts to increase his pace and the depth of his thrusting. "And in the event I do get a little louder than I should – such as…a few minutes ago for example – thank goodness for two flights of stairs. And motion sensor lights along the way."

Mark's tongue and lips are otherwise engaged with one of her nipples, but he just can't help himself and reluctantly breaks contact. "Like you're capable of hearing anything once you start moaning, or seeing anything when your eyes are rolling back in your head," he says, starting to breathe heavier, especially when she tightens her muscles around him and her heels dig harder into his sacrum.

"Then you're…officially…on lookout," Addison pants between urgent thrusts, feeling heat drift up her chest. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders. "And hear-out. But I'm not – oh, God – doing either of those things right now, I'll have you know."

"And I'll have you know…" Mark slips a hand between them. "You're about to. Probably in thirty more seconds."

He's right.


"Addison…" Mark sets a hand on one of her knees to steady her as she bounces up and down on her toes, waiting. "You're gonna be fine. Just be honest. Think of it as talking with me, but with someone vastly more qualified…and probably less annoying. Also, do you want coffee or hot chocolate?"

"What?" She glances over at him, following the first part, but not the second. Any minute now, the therapist Maggie and her psychiatrist got her connected with is going to open the door splitting the waiting room from individual offices. Her name will be called.

"For after," he clarifies. "Before your appointment is over, I'll grab something from the cart. I mean, if you want green juice I'll go against everything I stand for and get that for you, but -"

"Oh. Hot chocolate sounds good." Addison manages a weak grin. "Thank you."

They are quiet as they wander through the Conservatory Garden, but Mark knows exactly where Addison is leading him as they pass lilac trees shading the south side of the garden. The location is her idea, but the suggestion to get some air after her appointment was his. She came out of her therapy session wearing a brave smile, but Mark noticed her face had the pale, tired quality of someone who had been crying. Not hard crying, not consistent crying, but some tears all the same.

"I want to talk about it a little," Addison says when they reach The Secret Garden fountain and sculpture. Mark stares down at the cream-colored lilies mingling on the water's surface, waiting for her to continue. "Just…maybe not until tonight. Or tomorrow. I'm still trying to process. But I'm okay, Mark. Emotionally drained, but I'm glad I went, actually."

"Good. I'm glad you did, too. And whenever you want to talk, I'm all ears. But, Addison?" He gives her a teasing grin, knowing she could probably use a laugh. "I already know you spent the whole hour just talking shit about me."

"Not the whole hour," Addison jokes back. "Only the first forty-five minutes." She sees their shadows reflected in the water, holding hands and standing close, when an opening spreads between two lily pads. She remembers, suddenly, how many things lilies symbolize.

Mourning and rebirth are the ones that come to mind the most.


Mark blinks in surprise when he sees a text message from Addison: Can you please come downstairs? She went down to the kitchen to get a glass of water once both kids were asleep. Something tells him that her request has nothing to do with a repeat performance of the counter sex they had last week.

"Oh, hey…" Mark says softly when he finds Addison on the couch, knees curled to her chin and tears shining on her cheeks. He takes a seat beside her and presses a hand to her back. "Addie, what's wrong?"

"I just…I just feel bad because Kate brought up her birthday while I was tucking her in, and she…she…" Addison shakes her head, needing a minute. She releases the tight grip she has on her knees so she can lift her hips and get settled in Mark's lap. She tucks her head under his chin.

"She did that with me this morning, too. The sheer nerve of her, even daring to bring it up when my birthday is next," he murmurs to fill in the pause, and succeeds in getting Addison to release a light giggle. "Tell me what's upsetting you though." He guides one hand around the curve of her waist, and uses the other to trace circles on her back. "Whenever you're ready."

Addison waits until the muscles in her throat relax. "Kate mentioned her birthday, so I asked what she wanted…and she said she just wants me to still be happy. I barely made it out of the room before I started crying."

"Addison…" Mark brushes his lips to her forehead. "I don't doubt that she wants you to stay happy, but that's definitely not the only thing Kate wants. She told me she wants Rebecca or Lucinda. You know, American Girl dolls."

"She already has -"

"Kit. And a Bitty Baby. God, I hate that I know that. Anyway. You'd be very proud of me – I told her that maybe she should think of something else to ask for since lots of little girls don't even have one American Girl doll. So she said she wants a stuffed wolf and a bike. One without training wheels."

Addison gives him a weak smile. "Have fun teaching her. I flipped over my handlebars once when I was seven and rarely, rarely rode a bike after that. The occasional spin class doesn't count. Those wheels aren't going anywhere."

"I'll do my best. All that is to say…Kate is an incredibly thoughtful kid, Addison, but I wouldn't submit her application for sainthood just yet. Your happiness is just one of many, many things she probably wants."

"But I don't want what I've gone through – what I'm going through – to color her childhood," Addison whimpers. "Kate shouldn't have to worry about me. I want her to just be a kid."

Mark shakes his head. "She is being a kid. And you're being a mom. You play with her. You read with her. You talk with her and spend time with her and you make her eat her vegetables. Hell, she was even a bit whiny tonight about the carrots. She wouldn't have been like that if she was afraid of how you'd react. Addison, you had a few really hard weeks and in all that time you only lost it on her once. And you said sorry and you guys talked about it. We all make mistakes – Kate knows that. So isn't it possible that she wants you to stay happy because she loves you, not because it affected her personally?"

Addison shrugs. "She's five. I'm sure it's a combination of both. Just because I apologized and she seemed to understand via a mucus comparison…apologizing won't make her forget that night. Even if it isn't something she thinks about anymore or even if the memory fades completely one day, it's still…there, in a sense. It's something that happened. So she and I will both carry that."

"Maybe what she'll end up carrying from that experience is more compassion. And understanding, because pain isn't always visible and we don't always know what someone else is going through." Mark strokes her tear-soaked cheek with his knuckles when she nods. "Please try to talk about this with Renee, too," he adds. "I'm one of your floaties and we can talk about this as much as you want, but you have to talk about this at therapy, too. It's weighing on you. And you need to eventually be able to forgive yourself."

"I will." She sniffles and offers a small smile. "And thank you for being one of my floaties. My iPad is in our room. Let's go look at bikes. I bet Kate would love one with streamers. And you know, she…she was kind of being a butthead about the carrots tonight. But so were you, for that matter."

"Well, no shit. That's who she gets it from."


"I'm ready for you to leave," Addison announces to Mark one morning in mid-April. Lauren has just left with Kate to take her to school. And Mark, understandably, gives his wife a confused look at this statement. "Sorry," she tacks on quickly. "I could have said that much, much better. I'm not ready for you to go back to work yet, Mark, but…I'm ready to spend some alone time with Henry. Like, alone-alone. Without you in the house."

He grins at this determination. "I can finish my coffee first, right? And get dressed?"

"Yes." Addison laughs. "You stay, actually. I think I'll take him to Central Park. It's such a nice day." Addison knows she isn't quite ready for two on her own without experiencing crushing anxiety and I'm not good enough feelings, especially at the park (Kate has wanted to do a lot more bike-riding lately). But this – this she can handle.

Mark knows she can handle it, too, but he keeps his cell close by, just in case. His phone ends up chirping with an alert a half hour later, and he slides his index finger to view the image attachment from Addison. It's a selfie of Addison and Henry, and Mark has to say, she did an incredible job balancing the phone in one hand and keeping Henry steady in the other, and also getting Henry to look at the camera and smile. Sunlight threads around them in the backdrop, illuminating their hair and faces. Henry looks adorable, per usual. Addison looks beautiful, per usual. But Mark also sees something else. In her eyes. Or her smile. Or her subtle laugh lines. Maybe all three. She looks like herself.

He thinks this picture is one worth printing and framing. Addison agrees. The photo finds a home on their staircase wall a few days later.


Addison lightly fingers the Columbia blue-colored paper graduation cap and flimsy diploma Kate has left her with so she can join the rest of the newly graduated Kindergartners on the playground. It's a beautiful June morning.

"Do you think we won't have to hear her singing that damn song anymore?" Mark asks hopefully. It was a quick promotion ceremony, the entire class giggly and squirmy as they received their diplomas. It ended with them singing an acoustic version of "With My Own Two Hands," with very little harmonization. The song was not a surprise to Mark and Addison; Kate has been practicing it at home for the better part of three weeks.

"God willing. I'm not sure what you're more excited about though: potentially never hearing that song again, or the fact that you noticed there is considerably less hand-holding between Kate and Andrew lately."

Mark laughs as he adjusts a gurgling Henry in his arms. "Oh, you definitely know which one I'm more excited about," he says, utterly relieved that his daughter's crush appears to be over. For now, at least.

"I figured. By the way, we need to remember to have Kate take an upside-down diploma photo when we get home. So start thinking about what we can bribe her with," Addison says with a grin.

"Last year was a trip to Chelsea Waterside. I'm sure she'll have tougher negotiating skills this time around."

"Yes. And I know you remember, but it was at that bribery splash pad that I told you I was pregnant." Addison leans over to nuzzle her nose against Henry's. "And later this month you'll be five months old, my little love." She straightens back up, and due to wearing flats instead of heels (an uncharacteristic choice, but definitely the right call while walking across an uneven, crack-filled blacktop), she has to look up at Mark. "Hey, Mark?" She says softly. He turns towards her, eyes shifting away from their monkey bars aficionado daughter.

"I'm ready for you to go back to work," Addison says. "If you want to start with reduced hours or something at first, that would probably be good, but I'm ready. Renee thinks so, too. And I promise I'll tell you if I think it's getting to be too much and I want you to come home, but I don't think that's going to happen. And I'll be ready myself to go back to work…in September. Once Kate starts back at school. I could probably be ready sooner, but I'd like to enjoy the summer with Henry and Kate first. I'm…I'm happy, Mark. And sad less. A lot less, actually. Manufactured serotonin makes me happy, but so do you and the kids." Addison takes Henry into her arms, being sure to keep him facing outward. Henry is a total cuddle bug, but he is much more interested in the world around him now, and prefers to be held so that he has a better view. "So…so what you think?"

Mark smiles and nods. "I think that's a good plan, Red." He threads a strand of hair back behind her ear, deciding he will tell her later – when it's just the two of them and no rising first graders are shrieking in the background – how proud he is of her. How strong she is. How resilient she is.

It's been a little over three months on her antidepressant, with lots of ups and downs and forward and backward steps along the way. Early May was particularly rough; worsening feelings seemed to strike out of nowhere and started to weigh Addison down. She was honest about this though, and held Mark's hand in an appointment with her psychiatrist and sobbed while explaining that things felt like they were getting worse. Doctor Castillo said all the right shrink-y things and increased her Zoloft dosage, which has helped, and weekly therapy is continuing to help. Things have been very steady for the past month.

Mark wraps an arm around her, and Addison rests her head against his shoulder as she holds her son and watches her daughter flit around the playground. It really is a beautiful morning.