Chapter title is a lyric from the song "Surrender" by Natalie Taylor.

There's a present day conversation involving an old girlfriend of Mark's named Peyton (the trio were 31 at the time – so approximately 7 years prior to where we're currently at). She's mentioned in chapter 12 in the first scene and fifth scene, and briefly in chapter 13. Context is clear enough without having to reread anything, but just throwing that out there.

Also special shout-out to caitlinjallan on TikTok who recommended Atlas in one of her videos (also I SCREAM-laughed at "Derek Shepherd & Sam Bennett hate page" in your bio). I barely know what I'm doing on TikTok, but caitlinjallan is an EXCELLENT follow for all your Addison Montgomery needs, so I am throwing that out there as well.

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Chapter 29. We Drifted to Survive

Addison frowns when one of the spinning wheels on her hard-shelled luggage catches and stalls on the hallway carpet, forcing her to tug harder on the handle as she makes her way to Mark's corner apartment. The fact that this piece of luggage feels especially difficult to navigate is irritating – it's only carry-on sized, after all. But then, it's not one of her regular suitcases; Derek took the bigger ones when he left.

She slows her steps, concentrating on her sandal-clad feet. She hasn't had to wear a bandage in a few days now. It was a little uncomfortable to walk on her left foot in the forty-eight hours following the glass puncture, but now it doesn't hurt anymore. It would almost be like it never happened, except that Addison is aware of where her body is "at" following an injury: proliferation, stage three. The scientist in her knows the wound is continuing to fill with new tissue and the scar will dull over time. The emotional side of her just knows that somehow, even though she feels completely broken with fear and heartache, her burdened body is building and rebuilding. It takes time, but wounds do close. And like medicine, Addison thinks as she knocks on Mark's front door, timelines for healing sometimes depend on the individual.

"Not quite how a key works, Red," Mark says when he opens the door for her. He flashes her a teasing grin to show he is kidding. He figured Addison would knock rather than reenter on her own. What he really wants to say though is I'm glad you came back.

"Yeah, I know." Addison smiles guiltily. "Key or no key, knocking sort of felt polite, even though I texted you to let you know what time I'd be coming. When I was in the lobby, Thomas just like…waved me through." Normally the doorman will notify Mark when she arrives – Addison is here to see you – but Mark must have said something to Thomas while she was at the brownstone this afternoon. "It felt weird."

"A bad weird?"

"No," she replies. "A good weird. An…adjusting-to-it weird."

Mark concentrates on the bedroom, showing Addison two drawers he cleared out for her (for now, because two is certainly not enough if she ends up staying in a more permanent way), and some space in the closet for anything she wants to hang. Addison has been in his apartment enough times now that there are a lot of things she doesn't need pointed out – she knows which outlet a charger is typically hanging out of in case she needs to borrow one, where the spare towels are, and she has never once had to ask where something is in the kitchen (Mark has observed her open the wrong cabinet from time-to-time when reaching for a coffee mug or a plate though, which leads him to believe her kitchen set-up at the brownstone is markedly different from his).

"And you can push any of my stuff out of the way if you need to make room for yours," Mark adds after showing her the walk-in closet. She probably won't need that much space immediately; it is not lost on him how small the suitcase she brought with her is. "I want you to feel comfortable here. And as far as bathroom stuff, the guest bathroom doesn't have much in it if you want to completely take it over, but it's fine if you want to keep your stuff in the master, too. And the shower is better in the master – bigger, and way better water pressure."

"And that's the one you're in," Addison says, a suggestive grin playing across her lips. Mark smiles back at her. "Have you ever lived with a woman before?" She adds quietly, taking a breath in between heartbeats. "Or like…lived-not-lived?"

"Explain lived-not-lived, please."

"Right. Sorry, that wasn't…it's sort of like when you have a place of your own, but you end up staying at your boyfriend or girlfriend's home all the time. You basically live there, short of having your name on the lease. That's -"

You mean exactly what you're planning on doing? Mark thinks.

"–sort of how it was before Derek and I got our first apartment together." Addison's cheeks color at the mention of her husband. Mark remembers, of course. He was Derek's roommate at the time, and Addison was there a lot. He didn't mind though; it never felt like she took up much space, and it wasn't like he was there every night anyway. "I haven't lived with anyone besides him. I was just wondering if you've done this before, that's all. I figured you had with Peyton, but I…I'm just curious, if this is new for you. Because it's…" Addison inhales nervously. "It's sort of new for me, in a way."

"Peyton Hughes...God, that was like…seven years ago." Mark scratches at the back of his head. "You're making me feel old. But yeah. I lived-not-lived with Peyton. And in my late twenties there was also Gemma – remember that radiologist from Lenox Hill? – but that one was a lot more casual. And I guess by your definition, I live-not-live with you now…since you still have so much stuff at the brownstone." Mark regrets his wording, because the moment the words unfurled, he could see the anxiety in Addison's face. "We'll figure out the newness together, Red," he adds, tone reassuring enough that she smiles in response.

"Yeah." Addison nods. "Yeah, we will. And I know...I'm sort of struggling with the language. Like, living here, staying here...that sort of thing. I'll...eventually it will sound less clunky coming from me."

"Well, while we're working through the new stuff and clunky stuff," Mark says, "you'll find that I'm a very clean roommate. And fun to look at."

Addison's shoulders twitch as she laughs through a closed mouth. "I'm a clean roommate, too," she tells him. "You know, I emailed back-and-forth with Peyton about two years ago. She contacted me, asking if I would write a letter of recommendation for her. She was working at a hospital in Denver and applying for the charge nurse position." She pauses as another funny-not-funny moment occurs to her, that much-talked-about razor thin line between comedy and tragedy. "I just realized I've talked about Colorado more in the past week than I have in my entire life."

"Peyton would be a great charge nurse." Mark speaks quickly in an attempt to push away thoughts of Derek…not that talking about an ex-girlfriend is really something he wants to do either. "Did she say how she was doing?" He asks, genuine curiosity coming through despite his distaste for the subject. "I sent her flowers after her dad passed…that was about a year after she relocated. But other than that, we haven't had any contact."

Peyton emailed him later, to thank him for the flowers and the card that went along with them, and Mark emailed back to again express his condolences, but that was it. He didn't think she really owed him a response of any kind, actually. Not after how he treated her.

"She ended up getting the position. And, yeah, we talked a little bit, and it sounded like things were going well for her. She'd gotten married, and she had a little boy – Jack, I think his name was. He's probably in preschool by now."

"Good." Mark smiles and nods. "That's good. I always…I always hoped she'd be okay after the break-up. I figured she would be, but that's still good to hear."

"I really liked her. You know…you never told me why you guys broke up."

"It just didn't work out."

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. .

"If either of you orders muesli I'm tearing this place apart," Mark murmurs. His eyes are on his menu, but it's very clear who the comment is directed to, and everyone at the table laughs. It's been an ongoing joke for months now, due to Derek and Peyton's combined love of starting their mornings off with cold oatmeal.

"I'm not. And no." Peyton reaches across the table, batting her fingertips at the page Addison has her menu open to. "Get off the salad page and order something unhealthy with me or I will tear this place apart," she says, which triggers another laugh from everyone. Addison in particular.

Peyton Hughes is her favorite nurse. They are able to chat about non-work subjects at the hospital on occasion and have worked together long enough now that they are comfortable with one another, but Addison was still curious how things would work outside the walls of NYP for this double-date brunch in Yorkville. They have never done this before. It's been a nice morning so far though, and it feels easy enough – at least after a few minutes – for both women to get used to speaking without formalities. Just Peyton and Addison, not Nurse Peyton and Doctor Montgomery-Shepherd today.

(The bottomless mimosas help with everyone's comfort level too, of course.)

Mark has been dating Peyton for about seven months now, and although he doesn't talk much about his dating life with Addison – if ever – it seems to be going well. Seven months with the same woman: it's sort of unheard of for her husband's best friend. Addison makes a casual remark, equal parts statement and question, while the two women are at the bathroom sink later, washing their hands. It seems like things are going well with Mark?

"Yeah, they are," Peyton replies. "And your effort to hide your surprise about that fact is pretty good."

"Oh, I -"

"It's okay," Peyton interrupts with a good-natured shake of her head. "I know what people say. It's what I said at one point, too. Mark's reputation precedes him – I ignored his flirting and overall obnoxiousness for that reason for a long time – but he does have a sweet side. He's thoughtful and funny and he's like a big teddy bear when it's just the two of us. Just…a somewhat gruff, perverted teddy bear. He's a complete idiot, which I'm sure you know, but I could see him settling down with someone someday…I'm not saying it's me, but just…someone, someday. He just needs to grow up first, or keep growing up. Having upfront, established expectations helps though. I feel like I shouldn't have had to have that initial conversation in as much detail as I did, but he's such an emotionally stunted man-child that I had to be very clear with him: boyfriend-girlfriend means we are together, that there is no one else. That he keeps suggestive comments to himself and doesn't just flat out stare at ladies' chests for the hell of it – he thinks he's subtle about it, but he's so not. And if at some point he's just 'over' the whole relationship thing, like if he's not happy anymore or I'm not who he wants or he's looking for something else…just tell me. I'd be sad if he ended things, yeah – it's been a really fun seven months with him – but I would rather he just be honest. I don't want to ever be the kind of person who gets strung along, or strings someone else along, you know?"

"Yeah," Addison says in agreement. She studies the tiny soap bubbles on her wet hands, rainbow reflections of light that are starting to pop. "That makes sense. I'm really glad you guys are happy together and things are going well though."

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. .

"You know, my bike is still in the basement at the brownstone," Mark says when they clamber into bed on Sunday night. They had a nice, quiet day together. It felt comfortable and easy, and although Mark knows the easiness cannot last because there is just way too much for them to have to figure out, he appreciates it for the time being. "Would it be okay if I got it? Not that I'll be riding it anytime soon…" he lifts his chin in the direction of one of his bedroom windows. It has rained all day, mostly whisper-soft as droplets gathered weakly on outside surfaces, but in the past half hour the rain has picked up. It is coming down harder now, accompanied by the occasional groan of thunder and flash of lightning. It's sort of striking to observe the elements though, and getting to see it when you're inside and have no immediate plans to venture out helps, of course. That's when Mark can enjoy it the most.

He remembers when he was ten, he had a pen pal named Charlie – everyone in his fifth grade class was assigned one through some sort of program. The letters Mark and Charlie wrote to one another were painfully boring, not unlike some of the paragraphs Mark had to write in class whenever Mr. Briggs would give them writing prompts. They talked about things they did over the weekend and what the weather was like in their respective states, and although they sometimes talked about how their favorite baseball teams were doing (Charlie: the Athletics, and Mark: the Yankees), for the most part their letters were dull to the point that Mark dreaded whenever his teacher handed him the latest letter addressed to him.

Charlie's descriptions of the weather in his native state intrigued Mark though, and he brought it up with his father once.

"My pen pal, Charlie – he lives in Oakland. Have you been there before?" Mark asked.

Everett shook his head. "No, but I've been to San Francisco, which is pretty close to it."

"Charlie said they don't really get thunder and lightning in California. Like, sometimes they do when it rains, but not…not like here, it seems like, and not very much. And no hurricanes, either. Why do you think…do you know why?"

"I think it has something to do with the water on the West Coast being cooler, and…the air temperature. The Atlantic has warmer water. Warmer water holds more moisture, which means stronger storms from beginning to end. I think." Everett took a sip of his cappuccino – he was a little ahead of the curve when the drink started to become more popular across the country. "Maybe you should ask Charlie though, my boy. See what he says."

My boy. He said that sometimes. Like Jenny's love and parenting style, Everett's came with flaws and turmoil and some pretty crappy, selfish choices, but Mark never doubted his father cared about him and was proud of him, even if the pride was more centered around Mark's accomplishments – as a kid, his overpowering athletic skills, success in the classroom, and just overall charisma – than the crux of Mark's person.

"Everett...look." Mark slid Charlie's latest letter towards his father. "He spelled both 'interesting' and 'different' wrong. I don't think he's gonna know why New York gets better storms than California." He grinned up at Everett, who started to laugh.

Mark can't really remember when he and Charlie stopped exchanging letters. It occurred to him later though that no longer writing to one another wasn't all the different from a storm: life really is just a succession of beginnings and endings.

"Oh, sure," Addison answers, while Mark briefly rocks his head against his pillow, getting comfortable. She is still sitting up, and her gaze cuts towards the window. "I think it's supposed to clear up by Tuesday. You know," she says, looking back at him, "that night Derek caught us, after he threw the clothes outside, he…briefly threw me outside, too. I was…I was outside with the clothes."

"I wondered," Mark admits quietly. "When I brought you over here later that night, you sort of mentioned something about being thrown outside and it worried me, but you were crying too hard to explain it, and then you started talking about something else. I figured you'd bring it up again though…if you wanted to talk about it."

"Yeah. After you left, he went into the closet and gathered up as many of my clothes as he could hold in his arms, and then the comforter, and he tossed them outside…which you know, of course. I was on the staircase while that was going on. And then he turned to me and told me to get out. To get out of his house. His house. And I – I said no. I crouched down and gripped the balusters. He came over and grabbed me by my arms, dragged me to my feet, and physically forced me outside and then…then he shut the door on me. It wasn't – when he grabbed me, it wasn't hard. It didn't hurt," Addison adds hurriedly when she sees a shadow of anger coast across Mark's face in the form of tight, narrowed lips. "I was pleading with him to let me let back in. It was maybe…maybe like fifteen seconds, and then he opened the door again. I came back in, and then Derek left. It was…raining so hard outside. I wasn't dressed, either. Just panties and the CBGB shirt – what I was wearing when you came back to clean up my foot and…and take care of me." Addison gives him a sad, tired half-smile. "Anyway. That's what happened."

"Red, c'mere." Mark lifts his arms up, and Addison shuffles forward, lining her body next to his and resting her head on his chest. "Hey…" he continues, setting a hand on the valley between her shoulder blades. "You're safe, okay? That's never going to happen to you again."

"I know. I'm not scared. Not now, anyway." Addison sucks in a short breath. At the time though, it was scary. And humiliating. "I'm just…I'm just trying to talk to you about it, that's all."

"I'm glad you told me. And I'm sorry. That's…really fucking horrible. You didn't deserve that, Addison. It doesn't matter what we did to him; he shouldn't have done that to you."

No, I didn't, and no, he shouldn't have, Addison thinks. Her throat feels too tight to talk more though, to share anything without the concern of chipping syllables. It was the grabbing that was the worst part, because it just felt so mean. Hands that love and heal shouldn't also be able to harm and frighten.

Addison clears her throat a few minutes later when she trusts that her voice is steady again. The words tucked under her tongue slowly come out as she tells Mark, "People always seem to think the great, charming Derek Shepherd, neuro-God, is perfect. But…he's not. The arrogance, the selfishness, the single-mindedness when it comes to his career, the way he's bad about keeping in touch with his family, the way he could be so dismissive towards my feelings sometimes…but I loved him in spite of the qualities I didn't like as much. The thing is, when you exchange wedding vows, it's always just…about the contrasts. Richer, poorer. Sickness, health. And those are valid things, but there's never anything about loving a person for exactly who they are, not who you want them to be or who you think they should be. And I…" she swallows thickly. "There's always been a part of me that felt like I was never good enough for Derek. I think that's why you and me…when we had sex that first weekend in the Hamptons, I was lonely and sad, but also, you were there. Not just there, but there. You see me, and you've never asked me to be anything other than myself. You've always been this way. So, thank you for that. For…for loving me in the way that you do."

"You're welcome," Mark says quietly. He holds her a little tighter, and while Addison might not be scared, she doesn't protest at his firmer grasp. It's the first time in all these months of having an affair that, if only for a moment, Mark isn't sorry at all for hurting his best friend.

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. .

"I've always adored her," Addison says to Derek while he flags down a cab to take them back to the brownstone after brunch. "Peyton's such a good nurse – but I think I love her more now that they're…they're just so cute together. You did this, Derek. Remember that time Mark was over and you told him that if he kept this up one day he was just going to be the older creeper hitting on young women who would have zero interest in him?"

"To be fair, I've given him the warning more than. Pretty sure you have, too. But, Addie…I wouldn't get attached to the idea of Mark and Peyton, if I were you. I just have this feeling that -"

"Oh, come on," she interrupts, making a displeased noise. "Have some faith. Peyton seems like a good influence. Mark is sort of a mess, but he secretly has a big heart – you know I've always thought that."

"I know you have. And I don't think you're wrong about that...I don't disagree. I can't disagree – I've known him practically my entire life, and he's a good guy underneath all those layers of bravado and too-expensive shirts. But something is going on. Peyton mentioned a few days ago – when we were having one of our morning museli chats that you guys love to make fun of us for – that her dad has some health stuff going on. She's giving some thought to moving back to Colorado because of it, and apparently she talked to Mark about it; that's where she's from and where her parents live. And Mark mentioned it to me yesterday, too. Nothing is set in stone, but now there's this emotional, complicated component that just…" Derek shrugs, looking a little sad as they climb into their cab and provide the driver with their address. "And when things get real, Mark screws up. When things get difficult or scary in a relationship, when the stakes are high, that's when…well, that's when Mark is at his worst. I swear sometimes he ruins things on purpose, just to see how a particular woman in his life with react."

Addison sighs. "Have you tried to talk to him about the Peyton thing?"

"I have. And I hope I'm wrong, but…I don't feel like I am. He's going to break that girl's heart."

Derek does not end up being wrong.

It all implodes a month later.

"Sorry. I just need a minute," Peyton squeaks out. She quickly shifts away when she sees Addison approaching her in the locker room. She lowers her tear-filled eyes. "Was there anything else you needed, Doctor Montgomery-Shepherd? I already followed up with the Mendez baby's parents, and -"

"No, that's not – we're done for the day. Thank you for all your help. I just wanted to say that…Mark told my husband that you guys…" Addison bites her lower lip. "Peyton, I'm really sorry."

"Did he tell you Mark cheated?"

"Yeah, he did."

"When I got back to his apartment after spending time in Colorado, Mark said he had to talk to me about something – and when he's done something he knows is bad, it shows all over his face. He looked guilty, so I just point-blank asked him if he slept with someone while I was away. My fault, I guess."

"Peyton, it is not your fault he cheated. You can't think that -"

"No, I know. Cheating is on him." Peyton steps around Addison, heading towards the locker room exit, but then seems to think better of it and turns back to look at her superior one more time. "I just meant that it was my fault for asking a question I didn't really want to know the answer to." She manages a bitter smile. "Anyway. Have a nice evening, Doctor Montgomery-Shepherd."

. .
. .

"I hope your time off was good."

Addison sets down a chart at the nurses' station on Thursday and turns towards the sound of a voice she knows very well. "It was, thank you," she says. "And good morning, Nina." It is sort of a miracle Addison has been able to avoid having this conversation with Nina Patel, Chief of Surgery – they are close enough that they are on a first name basis – for this long, but then again, what are laboring mothers and birthed babies if not tangible miracles? It feels like she has been pulled in a million different directions this week, but it is a welcome feeling; surgery is able to keep her out of very specific spaces in her head.

"Good morning," Nina answers with a smile. "And…" she purposely keeps her voice low so that no other employees can hear her. "I also hope I'm not going to lose you."

"You're not."

"Good. I wanted to – well, first I wanted to tell you the Sacrococcygeal teratoma procedure you did last week before your time off…the mother's parents came by the hospital yesterday – I tried to track you down, but a nurse checked for me and you were in surgery. Anyway, they made a pretty sizable donation to the hospital as a thank you for saving their grandson's life…all because of you." The smile fades and Chief Patel's expression then shifts into a more serious one. "But I mostly wanted to check in with you. I would have done it sooner, but your name has looked like multiple games of Tic-tac-toe on the OR board this week, so I know you've been busy. So, inevitable exhaustion from long hours aside…are you okay?"

It has been exhausting. A welcome distraction, yes, but exhausting all the same. Yesterday, Addison went to the brownstone after work because she didn't have any clean clothes left, and she ended up spending the night there. She was just too tired to pack everything up and go back to Mark's. She texted him, and he seemed to be understanding of this.

"I'm…" Addison is momentarily distracted when she glances over Nina's shoulder. Speaking of. There is Mark at the end of the hallway, talking with Charlene.

She saw Mark twice yesterday – he's usually at NYP on Wednesdays. Once when she was declining his invitation when he asked if she wanted to have lunch with him – she needed to get to the NICU to check on a post-op patient – and then again when she spied him from a distance talking with another nurse. Well. Flirting. She can tell. And she feels ashamed of herself for harshly judging the female sides of the equation in these interactions a little more harshly, but God, it just kind of floors her how positively shameless some of these younger women are when it comes to flirting, especially at work.

Addison didn't spend the night with Mark last night. Maybe someone else did though. And she overheard a conversation between one of the shameless flirters and a patient care technician on Tuesday afternoon when she was in the locker room that led her to believe Mark was doing more at NYP than just surgeries last week. Which is…fine. Technically, it's fine. Addison wasn't living with Mark last week, and even if she was…they haven't had any sort of discussion about exclusivity, and she's reasonable enough to recognize the hypocrisy on her end – she might not be sleeping with Derek, but she's still with him. Can she really ask for faithfulness from Mark with that in mind?

The technicalities of it all are painful though, because the technicalities as they currently stand make Addison wonder if she is enough for Mark. They haven't had sex in a few nights. It's not just about sex – Mark has told Addison that more than once – but he sure seems to have a hell of a time going without it. He's always been this way.

"Addison?"

"Yes. Sorry, Nina. Yes, I'm okay."

Nina tilts her head to the side, considering the insistence behind this answer. "It's just that…well, I'm sure Derek told you he was in contact with me about his relocation. So with your husband not here -"

"It won't affect my work performance."

"That's not why I'm asking. Addison…I can't tell you what to do outside this hospital, but be careful with that man…he's bad news. That's all I'm going to say."

Nina's back is to Mark, so she can't see him, but that doesn't change the fact that she doesn't bother to specify who that man is. It is hard for Addison to imagine Derek just straight up saying he walked in on Addison cheating with his best friend; he's sort of a private person. But then, he told his sisters the truth, or at least something truth-adjacent – his mother too, Addison suspects – so maybe it's not implausible. That streak of superiority that sometimes ripples through Derek – he wouldn't want to be seen as the one at fault for walking away from his life in New York. Maybe he didn't spare any details when he contacted Nina Patel after all.

Addison hasn't heard any threads of gossip involving her, Derek, and Mark this week, but she suspects that somehow, in some way, there are rumors out there, which is part of the reason why she has gone out of her way to avoid Mark at work. It would just be adding fuel to the highly embarrassing and unseemly fire.

She nods curtly once she and Nina have finished talking, and starts off towards the NICU. The hallway is uncharacteristically lacking in foot traffic at the moment, so she allows herself to bow her head for a moment, chin nearly buried in the hollow of her throat. From this angle, she can see the dark blue stitching on her lab coat: Addison Montgomery-Shepherd M.D. F.A.C.S.

Divorce – if that is where things are headed with Derek, and truthfully, it's kind of hard to see how that isn't where things are headed – will mean severing her name. Gone will be the speck of the hyphen and the rise and fall of the letters making up the last part of her name. She won't keep the -Shepherd if they divorce, even though the idea of having to contend with a checklist of legal name changes sounds like a logistical, tear-inducing nightmare.

It feels like a long way off still, but Addison wonders when she will need to think about getting new lab coats; she can ask Nina who to talk to about this. She's definitely not there yet, and there's also a part of her that would prefer to just quietly unthread the hyphen and second surname herself. She's good with suture removals, but the thing is – and it's a horrible thing to laugh about, but she can't help it, it's just one more funny-not-funny thing about her current life – is that Mark has always been a little better.

. .
. .

Derek lingers under the surface. Of everything, it feels like to Mark. Addison has been staying with him for a week now, minus Wednesday night. It's fun and comfortable – even more fun and comfortable than he thought it would be, honestly – but there is no denying the deep-water currents of apprehension still prevalent. Addison twists her rings around her finger sometimes, an infinite loop of motion. She chose to spend a night apart from him – even though he offered to come over to the brownstone if she was too tired to come here. He heard her crying in the shower Tuesday morning when he slipped into the bathroom to grab his deodorant, unbeknownst to her. There are times she seems glued to her phone, and Mark isn't sure if it's because she's continuing to send probably-unanswered texts to Derek, or if she's texting her friend Savvy, probably communicating all her worries and disappointments and whether or not she plans to file for divorce...everything she won't share with him.

Mark tries to be honest with her though. About most things, at least. On Friday night, he admits he sent Derek another text this afternoon – he hasn't texted him since That Night. It was just a simple I'm still really sorry about what happened. I hope you're doing okay. this time. He felt a strange pull to maybe text or email Carolyn, or Nancy – she was always his favorite of the sisters – just to pass the apology further along, but he didn't. It wouldn't be overstepping though, really. Addison told him recently that Derek's sisters and mother (she seemed less certain on the Carolyn part though) know what happened.

Addison looks terrified at Mark's admission, even though he has just assured her that all he did was apologize and wish Derek well. He said absolutely nothing that would lead Derek to believe he and Addison are living together.

"Did you say anything -"

"Not a word about us, I swear," Mark interjects. "I wouldn't do that, Addison. Though I suspect something in writing about the two of us would embarrass you less than being seen with me seems to. Your attempts to avoid me on the days I'm at the hospital are…almost comical."

"Well, you seem to have plenty of women to spend time with and be seen with at the hospital in my absence."

Mark rolls his eyes. He knew this was coming, and there's a sick part of him – the part he pays Olivia a shitload of money to help him work through – that almost welcomes this conversation, is almost gleeful to finally fight.

"I can't talk to the nurses?" He snaps. "Just say it, Addison. Say what you want to say. Or ask what you want to ask me." Her eyes have narrowed, but the hard line of her mouth remains still. "Fine," Mark continues, "that's what I thought. You really do take being passive-aggressive to new heights. Or new lows. I don't know which it's supposed to be."

"Ask one of your nurse friends. I'm sure a number of them are willing to go pretty low for you, if they haven't already."

"At least someone is willing to."

There are a few moments of silence between them, and then –

"Screw you." Addison stomps to the other side of the room, and even before she flips her luggage open and reaches for one of the drawers where a few of her clothes are tucked away, Mark knows what she's doing.

"Addison…don't leave. I'm sorry. That was really rude and it's not even…it's not like you don't…" Mark feels so stupid, bumbling over his words. It was a mean thing to say. Plus, it's not even true. Addison's mouth and hands are on him plenty, and if there's ever a lack of reciprocation, Mark knows that's sort of his fault because of how much time he devotes to having his face between her legs – time he likes though. "It just slipped out. Seriously. You're the best I've ever had." It's true – she's fucking incredible and they're incredible together when they're going at it – but it feels sort of disingenuous when it leaves his mouth. She stays silent. "And I want to be with you…you and no one else," Mark adds softly, pushing through the fear of being this vulnerable with her.

Prove it, Addison thinks snidely. Her hands go still though. The idea of packing up her things and leaving right now just sounds too exhausting. And this is her fault, at any rate. She reminds herself of that. It's clearer than ever that if she wants things to be different with Mark, she has to be the one to initiate the conversation, to ask the questions she might not really want to hear the answers to.

"I'm tired," she announces. "I think I'm just gonna go to bed."

"Okay. Let's just go to bed then. Red…? I am sorry though."

"Me too."

"Are you still upset with me?" Mark asks once they are both under the covers. They are facing one another, but ample space remains between them. He reaches a hand out, fingers brushing the curve of Addison's narrow waist. "Or…too upset to make up with me?"

"Just tired," she murmurs. "It was a long day and a long week at work – I'm still feeling it. And I'm on my period." Addison felt ridiculously, irrationally embarrassed about tucking a box of tampons under his sink earlier this week. She wonders how long it will be before she feels less like a guest and more like a resident here.

"That explains your mood," Mark says, but his tone is light and he's smiling, and she can't help smiling back. He tends to have an effect on her, in that way.

Addison raises a teasing eyebrow. "Aren't you a brave man, mocking me at a time like this."

"Do you need anything?"

"No. Don't be weird about it."

"I'm not being weird about it," he says insistently. "It's just a question."

"I'm okay. Thank you though, for asking. And I'm not upset with you." Addison scoots towards him to curl up in his arms. She tries to think of something nice to say, a peace offering of sorts, and then it occurs to her: "We can go get your bike tomorrow, if you want." It's been almost a week since Mark asked about it. "It would probably be good for you to get some rides in before June humidity officially sets in."

"Sure. Sounds good."

One of these days you need to grow the hell up. You have to find a way to express your worries and insecurities that isn't physical, Peyton said to him once. Well, yelled to Mark once. It was justified though. I deserved better than your avoidance coping. And whoever you're with next will also deserve better, if you keep going the way you're going.

Mark stares at Addison's back after she has fallen asleep. The camisole she is wearing sinks low enough down her shoulders that he can see half of her spine, and is able to make out the curved shapes of the remaining vertebrae beneath the silky material. There are plenty of ways in which you need to grow up, too, he thinks. He runs a finger up each stacked bone. It is like scaling a mountain of unknowns.

. .
. .

References/Nods to Various Episodes

Grey's 3x05, Mark to Addison following the Shepherd divorce/division of assets: "I left my bike in the [brownstone] basement. I just want to know who to talk to to get it back."

Addison outside-in-the-rain stuff: I have previously mentioned the flashback from Grey's 3x01, so I'm not gonna recap that. But, PP 5x02, Addison to her therapist: "I cheated on Derek. That's why he moved to the woods. I slept with his best friend, he caught us. He physically removed me from our apartment in Manhattan, and he moved to the woods." All those years later, she mentioned this, which really, really breaks my heart (and, not a typo – she said "apartment" rather than "brownstone"). Also, Addison said towards the beginning of the episode that she got poison ivy while living in the woods in Seattle, when it was actually poison oak. Clearly a writer error – my God are they sloppy on these shows sometimes.

Thank you for reading! The next chapter will actually be a bit fluffier.