A/N: penultimate chapter! Thank you so, so much for those of you who have been reading this (or re-reading, depending on your perspective :)). This story has always been my fic!baby (my very, very LONG fic!baby), but I am excited to revisit other fics and come up with new ones in the near future.
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Chapter 59. Each Thread
Summer passes quickly, calendar boxes X'd out by way of splash pads, long hours at work, a few weekends in Cape Cod, a miserable heatwave that feels like it lasts all of July, and too many popsicles for the kids (sometimes for breakfast, too). And they do in fact go camping – Addison pastes a fake smile on her face and hates nearly every minute of it.
Then August humidity gives way to a more temperate, leaf-strewn September. Kate starts third grade, and Henry has a weekly toddler music class and some daycare. At two and-a-half, he is too little for preschool, but Mark and Addison (or Lauren) bring him to their hospital's daycare for a few hours two mornings a week so that hopefully the eventual transition to preschool will be easier. It takes a few tries for Henry to leave his mother's arms without crying, but eventually it does happen, and Mark and Addison are pleased to discover that Henry gets along well with other children his age and does pretty well with sharing.
And naturally, the subject of a dog continues to come up. Kate is relentless about it. Mark isn't so much relentless as he is obnoxious – Addison is used to that though. And to Mark's credit, he doesn't bring it up too often.
"I gave you two children," Addison chirps at him one night, a smile playing at her lips. She feels strongly about this point, but can also feel herself starting to soften about the possibility of getting a dog. "Isn't that enough?"
"Yes," Mark answers quickly. "More than enough…but I don't think Kate will see it that way. Or the little guy. He's not old enough to be as – well, as argumentative as his sister – but he loves dogs, too."
"I had to be cut open for both those ungrateful children, you know."
"But Kate wasn't…oh." Mark glances down at the floor. He can only imagine the wow are you stupid look his wife is giving him. "Right. Never mind."
"Good man, not commenting any further. Anyway. I've never really been a pet person," Addison admits. "It's just not a Montgomery thing…but it's not like I hate dogs. I like other people's dogs. Ones I don't have to take on walks, pick up after, get up early to feed and let outside, or leave alone all day – and yeah, I know Lauren and Henry are here during the day for the most part and that beyond that there are dog walkers and things. Lauren is probably on Team Dog anyway."
"Oh, she is. She's just nice enough to not be pushy about it."
"Unlike the rest of you. I'm already raising two children. Three, actually," Addison decides, and Mark does not dispute this. He knows what he's about. "You really want to add another to the mix?"
"Well, child number four is one where Kate and I will handle all the walks and pooper-scooper stuff. And you watch…" he grins slowly. "The kids and I will do all the work, but the dog will still love you the most."
"Saying you'll do all the work is easy. Kate will bail on the responsibility part five minutes in. Playing with the puppy, yes. Waking up when the little thing starts crying at four in the morning? Not so much. Not that I'm unwilling to help, but…"
"We won't let it all fall on you. And it doesn't have to be a puppy," Mark says. "We could adopt from a shelter, one that's a few years old. Nothing rat-sized, but nothing too big and nothing too high-energy, either."
"It also can't be anything that sheds constantly. And nothing that sleeps on our bed. Preferably one that's never on furniture at all. And…" she smiles and runs her fingers along a brow, giving this some more thought. "Okay. Okay. We also have to find a dog that likes kids, of course."
"Wait." Mark's eyes widen. "Really?" And Addison nods, releasing a sigh that is half-enthusiasm and half-resignation. "Kate and Henry are going to be so excited, Red."
"Don't tell our stitches-inducing children yet. I don't want them to think each time we go to an animal rescue place means we're coming home with a dog. I want us to be able to take our time with this."
"Two kids, a house, and a dog. Aren't we a cliché."
Addison leans in to kiss him. "The best kind though."
They bring home a Beagle mix in late September. It utterly shocks them that anyone would willingly part with Rosie, who is estimated to be around three years old. She is affectionate, sweet with their kids, doesn't bark too often, has zero interest in destroying Addison's shoes, and doesn't beg for food but sure loves it when Kate and Henry slip carrots to her under the dinner table. Kate picked the name Rosie. She looks like a Rosie, Kate decides, but Taylor is a close second. Mark and Addison like the name, and Henry is able to pronounce it, so Rosie Sloan she is. And Mark was right about one thing: Rosie loves all four of them, but she loves Addison most of all.
The lumbering crusade of thunder has been shifting overhead for as long they have been asleep, but Mark is not quite convinced that the most recent round is the specific noise that caused him to wake up. He blinks in the darkness, not quite prepared when a stroke of lightning cuts across the sky and illuminates the walls of their bedroom; it feels just as unpleasant as a light being turned on with zero warning. He squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them again, grappling for more coherent thoughts. The sound that first registered for Mark seemed more like a whimper, not thunder.
"You okay, Red?" He murmurs, pulling her closer. Addison is already tucked against him, and feels weighed down in a way that indicates slumber, but Mark is currently fighting to stay awake so it's hard to tell what's real and what isn't. Plus, it's her. He has to know that she's okay.
Addison stirs a little. "Hmm?" She says sleepily. "What…?"
"Oh." Mark frowns. Shit. It wasn't her. And he doesn't hear anything now. It was just the one sound. The maybe sound. He could have been wrong, and as Addison has pointed out on more than one occasion, he is wrong about a lot of things. "Sorry, I thought you…" Mark wants to tell her to just go back to sleep, but Addison pops up on an elbow before he can. She is straining to hear, and now Mark knows he didn't imagine it, that there's noise beyond the angry storm elements battering around the city tonight.
"Is he crying?" Addison asks, more to herself than to Mark.
And then they flinch – question asked and answered – when they hear their son's voice, laced with fear.
"Mommmmmy. Dadddddy."
They scramble out of bed and move quickly up the stairs to the third floor, knowing the wailing is the result of either a nightmare or the storm – or a combination of the two. They want nothing more than to get to Henry so he knows they are here (and also get to him ideally before his crying wakes up his sister).
They took the baby monitor out about a year ago, which, Addison once said dramatically, meant severing all nighttime communication with Henry. It was necessary though, because it didn't matter how stealthy they tried to be; Henry was always able to locate the monitor, and it became the visual version of "Personal Jesus" for him. The monitor thoroughly amused him, and he wouldn't sleep if it was in eyesight. But now there's Rosie, at least. She has a dog bed in the hallway between the kids' rooms, but sometimes she'll go into Kate's room at night, and she almost always pokes her snout between the slats of Henry's crib when she hears him stir in the morning. The crib. It's another reason they feel bad in this particular situation. Kate at least has the option to get out of bed and run to their room if something frightens her. Henry can't exactly do that. He has acquired as many bruises as Kate probably did at this age, but in certain respects, he is far more sensible, or at least as "sensible" as a toddler can be. Kate transitioned to a toddler bed early because of her interest in climbing out of her crib; Henry seems to understand that attempting to hoist himself out of the crib won't end well. Besides, if he wants to get out in the morning, yelling works, too. Happy, pleasant yelling though.
This is crying and screaming. And both Mark and Addison's hearts sink when they find the silhouette of their little boy hidden under a blanket patterned with hot air balloons, his back wedged against one of the far corners of the crib. Rosie is indeed by his crib, but there isn't much she can do other than whine and make snuffle-nosed sounds through the wooden slats. Mark turns on the bedroom light while Addison goes to get Henry.
"Henry…" Addison pulls the blanket off him and quickly scoops him into her arms. "Oh, Hennybug. It's okay, sweet boy. You're okay."
"Loud," Henry weeps into her neck, coating her skin with his tears.
"I know," she answers, kissing his temple. "I know the storm is loud right now. Did it wake you up, baby?" She draws her palm along his face, wiping at tears and the sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin. "Okay," she adds when Henry nods. "Well, you're safe now. Daddy and I are right here."
"Dad?" Kate appears in the doorway, rubbing blearily at her eyes. "Is Henry okay?" Rosie wanders over to her, so Kate reaches down to pet her, but her eyes stay on her dad while she waits for an answer.
Mark gives her a reassuring smile. "He's okay, buddy. The storm woke him. He's okay though. You should go back…" he trails off when Kate walks across the room to where Addison is holding Henry, swaying her hips back and forth as she attempts to soothe him. Mark follows after Kate.
"This is like a team huddle…" Kate says when they form some semblance of a circle, all eyes on Henry, who is still whimpering. "But…sadder."
Addison grins weakly at this observation. "And with a bit more crying."
"Yeah. Except for the time when we lost with only two minutes left to the Wildcats. Everyone on the team cried then."
"That's true…" Addison acknowledges. "Kate, you should get back to bed. Henry will be fine. You have school in the -"
"Or…" Kate holds up a second finger to provide another example. "When Elisa got that really bad cut on her lip."
"Luckily there was a very handsome doctor at that soccer game who was able to help with that one," Mark says. "Now, Kate -"
"I know, I know," she interrupts with an eye roll that Mark and Addison now see on occasion. "Can I say goodnight to Henry first? I want to give him a hug."
"Yes…" Addison kneels down slowly, doing her best to remain coordinated with thirty pounds of heavy-breathing toddler attached to her. She can still feel the smooth slopes of her son's calves latched tightly around her waist when her knees touch the carpet, but before she can warn Kate that her brother might not be willing to let go of Mommy, Henry shakily sets his feet down and turns towards Kate's cooing voice.
Addison watches as her daughter takes on traits of both parents, and whether learned or just natural, she isn't sure. Kate's words are comforting and soft like her mother's, and she runs her palm between Henry's shoulder blades while she holds him, just like her father would. And she's Kate, formerly Tate. Of course Henry would want to say goodnight. He thinks his sister hung all the stars.
"What?" Kate asks gently, cocking her head to hear Henry better. Rosie nuzzles against Henry's shoulder, momentarily distracting him, but then he whispers his request again and Kate nods. "Teddy. Okay. I'll get him for you, Hen. Here, go with Mommy." She nudges her brother back towards Addison, and then goes to grab Henry's teddy bear, his favorite sleep companion and, if you were to ask him, his favorite toy. Well, guy actually. Henry always says guys instead of toys. Kate adores this about him. "Dad?" Kate looks at Mark while she slips her hands between the crib slats to get Teddy. She pulls the bear up one hand at a time, using a system that reminds her of a fist bump game she and some classmates used to play in first grade: something about bubblegum in a dish. "You're going to let Henry sleep with you tonight, right? He's scared. It would be really mean if you didn't let him."
"Well, it's a good thing your mom and I aren't mean," Mark says, holding back a smile. "Yeah, he's gonna stay with us. And you need to get to bed, little miss. Come on, I'll tuck you back in."
Giggles and whimpers. After Mark has left Kate's room, this is the noise he follows after. He knows the whimpers are because his son is still a little upset, and as far as the giggles, he is pretty sure he knows the answer to that, too.
He's right. He walks into their bedroom – lights dimmed just a tad, which is how their room will stay for the remainder of the night – to find Addison and Henry in the middle of the bed, snuggled under the comforter. Addison is holding Henry, and Henry is holding Teddy. Mark arrives just in time to hear his wife sing-speak, "You know I'm a forgiver. Reach out and touch faith…"
"Your own personal Jesus," Mark answers in a low, rumbly voice that makes Henry laugh. And then the wind and rain pick up their pace once more, slapping against windows and cutting through tree branches with enough force to drag some of the remaining leaves to the ground. Henry squeezes his eyes shut tight and buries his face in Teddy's fur.
Mark climbs into bed and scoots close, lining his pillow next to the one Addison and Henry are sharing. He rests his hand on his son's tear-stained cheek. "Hey there, little man," he whispers. Henry inhales shakily and opens his eyes, blinking at his father with an anxious expression. His eyelashes are starting to dry in clumps from his tears. "You doing okay?" Mark asks.
"Loud. Boom." Henry says, words split by a hiccup.
"I know," Mark responds. "I know it's loud, but you're safe. Nothing is going to hurt you. I promise."
"Monster?"
"No monsters," Addison says. She drops her chin to kiss Henry's head. "There's no monsters, Henry. None inside and none outside. And Daddy and I are right here."
"Kate?"
"Kate's sleeping in her room. And Rosie's with her."
Mark and Addison warble their way through a passably decent version of "You Are My Sunshine," but it becomes clear their son isn't feeling soothed by the lullaby, and he also didn't giggle when they tried "Personal Jesus" again, so instead they focus on physical comfort and reassurances. Addison cuddles Henry closer, his back against her chest, and Mark drapes an arm over them both. They whisper gentle, loving words, reminding Henry that he's okay.
"You're such a brave boy, Henry," Addison murmurs. Henry tilts his head back towards his mother when she says this. Brave. He has heard the word before. And seen it. Brave is people who slay dragons. Brave is Merida and the tapestry. Brave is Balto. Brave is Kate, who dives if she needs to when fielding ground balls. And brave is Mommy and Daddy and Batman and the big kids at Riverside Skate Park.
"Brave means all kinds of things," she continues when the look on Henry's face remains quizzical. Addison suspects Henry won't understand most of this, but she needs to tell him anyway. "Your daddy taught me that one." She gives Mark a quick smile. "And tonight, Henry, you were scared, but you also used your big boy voice so that Daddy and I could hear you and come get you. That's brave, Henry. You're a brave boy."
"Brave…" Henry says, a shy smile tugging his lips apart. "I brave."
"Mm-hmm." Addison kisses his cheek. "But even brave boys need rest. Try to close your eyes and sleep now, okay? Daddy and I are right here. And…" she adds, wanting to get ahead of roll-call. "Teddy is here, too. And Kate and Rosie are in Kate's room. We're all here and we're all going to keep you safe."
They watch their son's head bobble as he pushes back against sleep, his warm weight snuggled between them, but then finally, finally Henry's eyelids flutter shut and his breathing evens against Mark's collarbone. They give it a few minutes, not wanting to take any chances.
"You okay, Red?" Mark whispers. Addison's gaze feels far away when she peers back at him.
"Yeah, just…" she manages a small smile. "I know he's fine, but that was heartbreaking."
"It really was. And now…" Mark stands up, grabbing for his pillow and coming to the other side of the bed. "And now you're going to keep cuddling with him and I'm going to be sappy and cuddle with you."
"Thank you," Addison whispers when he folds an arm over her. She hadn't realized how much she needed this after all of that.
"You know…I wasn't under the impression that I taught you anything."
Addison smirks. "Rarely, but you have your moments. Want me to jog your memory?"
"I think you might have to. I taught you how to set up a tent – not that you wanted to – but that's the only thing that comes to mind recently."
"This wasn't that recent. It was when I was pregnant with Kate. Like, thirty-five or thirty-six weeks, and I –"
"Oh," Mark interjects. "The really bad one. Yeah, I – I remember. You were upset and you were having a panic attack, but you wanted me to focus on Kate. To make sure that she wasn't scared."
"Yes. Except…not Kate. It was Pickle-Kate then," she corrects with a smile, which makes Mark chuckle lightly into her neck. "During that – well, that whole first year – sometimes rain was difficult, especially at night. But you helped me get through it. And then I helped myself get through it. So as long as Henry has us, he'll be just fine. He's brave, but in his own way."
"He definitely is," Mark says. "He's brave and strong just like you."
"And he's my sunshine."
Mark nods in agreement. "And he's your sunshine."
It takes three years to get a fancy Bellevue fundraiser "do-over." The year after Addison's dad died, the event didn't end up falling on the exact date Henry Montgomery passed away, but was it close enough and Addison still felt much too raw to attempt to go. And then last year, Kate and Henry were both getting over colds, so they skipped out.
Addison gets ready with her children close by, both seated on the center island in the dressing room. Getting ready with them makes the process a little more fun, but infinitely slower; there are pauses and disruptions along the way, and not just because of requests for more snacks. Addison puts a little blush on Kate and Henry at their requests – subtler for Kate, and then more pronounced for Henry when he asks for "more." She does Henry's cheeks the way most little ones think blush is applied: strong, circular motions, painted pink like the cheeks of a porcelain doll. And then a tiny amount of mascara on Kate's outer eyelashes because she won't stop asking. None for Henry, but luckily he seems too distracted with one of the "guys" in his lap to notice.
"Boys can wear mascara too if they want," Kate says defensively, which fills Addison with happiness. She assures her daughter that yes, they can. But not little boys who sometimes rub at their eyes. Or little boys who will probably run away yelling because they believe makeup remover wipes are going to sting.
Henry looks up with a soft gasp when he hears the paw nail clattering sound of Rosie going down the stairs – a sure sign Mark has arrived home. "Daddy," Henry announces to Addison and Kate.
"Mm-hmm. Stay there, please." Addison requests, mascara wand hovering near her lashes as she meets her son's eyes in the mirrored closet, just in case Henry gets any ideas. It's not that far of a jump from the island to the floor. "He'll come up here to see you."
"Mom?" Kate asks. She gestures with a flip of her hand towards the dress on a nearby hanger, shimmering as its rose gold sequins catch in edges of sunlight. "How are you gonna get your dress on without messing up your makeup?"
Addison gives her a smile. "I have my ways."
"Wow," Mark says when he reaches their bedroom, Rosie at his heels. "You're all so busy in here."
"We're helping Mom get ready," Kate says calmly while Henry squeals Daddy at full volume. "And me and Henry even get to wear a little makeup, too. Can you see?"
"I can." Mark tips Kate's chin up with his thumb. "You look beautiful, Kate."
He moves over to greet his son next. Henry closes his eyes, as though that makes the blush more visible.
"And you look beautiful too, little guy. Beautiful and handsome." He kisses his son on top of his golden brown head and then moves onto his wife, opting for a hello and an affectionate pat on the waist, knowing that Addison won't tolerate her makeup being ruined or a curl disrupted.Yet, anyway. They are dropping the kids off at Savvy and Weiss's on their way to the fundraiser, located at a midtown hotel, and they will be staying at the hotel for the night.
"Dad…" Kate smirks. "Ask Henry what style dress mom is going to wear."
"Are you teaching him the names of designers already?"
"Yeah. But Dad, I said style, not designer. You know, style. Like how the dress is shaped. Like -"
"The silhouette," Mark says, amused when Kate raises both eyebrows in surprise. "See? I know things, Katiebee."
"Ignore her question, Mark," Addison interrupts with a roll of her eyes. "It's…" she glances over at Henry, who seems distracted with one of his guys again. "It's a sheath style dress. But that's not exactly how your son pronounces it."
Mark looks at Kate and shakes his head. "And so you're just trying to get Henry to keep saying a word that ends up sounding an awful lot like a certain four letter word, aren't you?" He tries to fight it, but ends up returning Kate's smirk.
"Mom says that I'm like this because of you."
"You definitely are."
Mark follows Addison. It's habit, really, and has been true since long before the first time they wound up in bed together: he would follow her anywhere. Therefore, it's no surprise to either of them that Mark doesn't think to question the unconventional path Addison takes between tables fifteen and sixteen, going in a completely different direction near table fourteen with a hard left that almost gets them caught between Ligurian-designed chairs halfway pulled out. Bronze-speckled votive candle holders flicker against stiff blue tablecloths as they make their way around the remaining tables.
"Sorry," Addison murmurs when they arrive near the front of the ballroom, where a space has been cleared for dancing. "I saw a surgeon who I know would have talked my ear off."
"I figured you had a plan," Mark answers, taking her into his arms and molding his hands around her hips. She has on a gown similar to the one she wore a few years ago, minus the maternity part. Sequins shimmer with each movement, and her muscles stretch smoothly between the draped cowl-back material. "I told you how much I love this dress on you, right?"
"You did." Addison smiles at him. She's fine with hearing it again though. "And we've done our duty socializing with the board and telling them all about procedures way over their collective heads and upcoming publications. Now let's just dance for a few songs."
"And then go upstairs and defile our hotel room?"
"Gross. But, also…yes."
