Chapter title is a lyric from the song "Recover," by Ruelle. This is QUITE a long one (even by my usual standards), but I wanted to keep the second flashback, and although the last scene could have been saved for the next chapter, I liked it better here. Idk, take a break halfway through and grab a snack or something, maybe limited edition Brookie-Os if you were smart enough to buy them in bulk before they went out of stock (I wasn't, and I am sad).

. .
. .

Chapter 31. Everything Bends Until It Breaks

In the last week of June, Addison is surprised when she glances at her phone and sees an incoming call from Archer. They text a few times a month, which allows them to stay reasonably updated on one another's lives (excluding some recent events), but phone calls are rare.

"Hi, big brother," Addison says when she answers. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She thinks there are times that Archer knows her as well as she knows herself, but she wouldn't say they are close anymore. They aren't little kids, so they don't take up as much space in each other's lives now. Addison has also long since determined that maybe it's just not normal for siblings to be a network sitcom kind of close anyway. At least not Montgomery siblings.

Archer informs her that he will be in Manhattan tomorrow – nothing like being told last minute – for a publishing event with a few authors, and it would be great if they could get together. The event sounds planned down to the minute, which means accommodation at a nice hotel, but Addison also knows the futility of inviting her brother to stay at the brownstone. Archer hasn't stayed the night at the house in years – he always opts for a hotel if he's in the city – and although he has never directly said it, Addison knows it's because he doesn't want to be around Derek if he can help it. The two men have always disliked each other. Broody Shepherd, Archer has taken to calling Addison's husband in the past few years.

"You know…" Addison feels her resolve start to weaken when Archer directs the conversation back to her. He is next on her list anyway, and she's put it off long enough. "If you actually wanted to stay at the brownstone, you could. Derek won't be there," she says while tugging open one of Mark's dresser drawers, wanting to borrow a shirt of his to sleep in. "And that's because, well. I have to tell you something…" she begins, and stumbles her way through catching her brother up on all the things she hasn't told him since last October. Archer is mostly quiet, other than the occasional interjection to ask a question, mainly for clarification purposes. That's one nice thing about Archer, Addison knows; he's judgmental, but he's somehow never been judgmental towards her.

"So have you heard from him at all since he texted to let you know he reached Seattle?"

"Not really. I've been trying to be respectful of Derek's request for space. I texted him last week though to ask for a forwarding address for any mail he gets, and just in case there are things he wants me to send to him…and he gave me a P.O. box. So either he's still staying at a hotel or just doesn't want to give me his new address. More likely he's renting an apartment. Anyway. My live-in whatever-he-is should be getting home soon, so we can talk about this more tomorrow. What time were you thinking for dinner? And any place in particular? I can try to make reservations."

"What about if instead -"

Addison's hands freeze against the edge of a drawer filled with sweaters (she is still so bad at remembering which drawers of Mark's contain what, because his arrangement is different than how her drawers at the brownstone are organized) when she spies a lacy bra shoved between a row of sweaters and the side of the drawer, its scalloped edges poking out of a sea of crewnecks. Not her bra.

The blush pink undergarment is almost comically large when Addison pulls it out. She has a weird flashback to her and a friend, Caroline Roland – probably six at the time – playing in Caroline's parents' bedroom and putting Mrs. Roland's bras on their heads (the kind of thing Addison would do at someone else's house, but never at her own – Mrs. Roland would probably just proclaim that the girls were being silly if she caught them, but Bizzy would have been furious). Addison remembers they weren't even trying the bras on and giggling about the concept of boobies; they were balancing the cups on their heads instead, wearing them like hats. She thinks maybe they were pretending to be aliens.

"Addie? You still there?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Archer." Addison slides a finger absently through one of the bra straps. "Can you say that one more time? I got distracted."

"I said you should stay with me tomorrow night. I have the room until Thursday. We can order room service, fight over what to watch, and passive-aggressively pull the covers away from one another all night. It would be," Archer says, and she catches the light chuckle braided into his words, "like a pretend campout."

. .
. .

Nine-year-old Addison peeks up from the book she is reading – Anne of Green Gables, for the second time – and smiles at Archer, who is busy rearranging some pillows. She thinks the layout of the fort she created as a surprise for her brother is fine as is, but she's not going to protest if Archer wants to make some changes. Archer is pretty good at this sort of stuff, and Addison just feels excited he said yes when she asked if he wanted to spent the night "pretend camping." She knows her brother loves her, but he is ten now, which means that sometimes he is moody and he doesn't always want to spend time with her.

"Hey, Archer…what has no beginning, end, or middle?"

"A circle. And a donut, I guess." Archer turns towards her, revealing a pleased smirk. "You've tried that one on me before. And this is your fault, you know," Archer says, holding up his blue-casted arm. His broken bone is the reason he is not camping with his Cub Scouts troop right now, which is what fueled Addison's idea of a pretend campout to lift her brother's spirits.

Archer is smiling when he volleys this accusation though and his words are choppy with laughter, so Addison recognizes that whatever he is about to tell her, he is just teasing. She feels her fingers relax in response. She was close to drawing them up to her mouth to bite her fingernails when Archer (fake) blamed her – a new habit when she is nervous or has made a mistake. A disgusting habit, according to her mother.

"You jinxed me. You're always saying," Archer continues, raising his voice in an attempt to mimic his sister, "'Archie, you're going to break your arm if you do that!'"

Addison starts to giggle. "I was right," she retorts. She told Archer earlier in the week that he was going to get hurt if he kept climbing the eastern redbud over by the stables – its branches just didn't look steady – but he didn't listen.

"Hey…you know Tara in my grade? Does she ever say anything about me when you're at dance classes?"

"No." Addison shakes her head. "She doesn't really talk to me…but I heard her talking to Esmé and Caroline the other day about…about me though. They didn't know I was in the wings. She said I have 'buck teeth.' And that I 'look like a horse' when I smile. We're…we're starting to get ready for our fall recital and Mrs. Sobel put us in formation, and I'm in the center. Tara is in the back, so I know she was jealous that I got the best spot, but…I don't think she was saying what she said about me to be mean. Or not just to be mean. It's just…what she thinks." Addison looks away from her brother so that she doesn't have to see the sad, worried look on his face anymore. "I know that…I know that I need braces, and that…that I still lisp sometimes. But I didn't think that my smile was that bad."

"It's not, Addie. You have a really pretty smile, and yeah, you need braces one day, but lots of kids do."

Addison can feel tears starting to build in her eyes, but she has learned that sometimes if she lifts her head just a bit, the tilted angle can prevent tears from running down her cheeks. She engages in this strategy now, focusing on one of the loose blankets draped over them. She knows the unspoken rule. Montgomerys and Forbeses should only cry at home, or even better, in their own rooms. And this is Addison's home and this is her room, and she knows Archer wouldn't make her feel bad for crying like a baby, but still. She thinks she is old enough to know better. Certain feelings just have to be forced down when they threaten to come up. It makes her think of those funny Whac-A-Mole games with the swishy hammers. Pushing down the feelings she isn't supposed to share is sort of like that.

She wonders if other kids her age feel like everything they do and don't do is somehow their fault.

"Why were you asking about Tara?" Addison turns her attention back to Archer when she feels convinced she isn't going to shed any tears. "Do you like her? I'm sure she likes you."

"She does. Jonathan said she wants me to ask her to be my girlfriend…but I don't like her anymore, trust me."

A curious smile tugs Addison's lips up. "Because I told you what she said about me?"

"Yep. Give me that." Archer points to the book in Addison's lap. "I'll read a chapter to us. Just dim the lights first and turn on the flashlight, so it's like real camping."

Addison holds up the copy of Anne of Green Gables, frowning slightly. "You're really going to read to me? It's…sort of a girly book. I don't think you're gonna like it, Archie. You can just keep reading your comics if you want to."

"It's okay; I'll read the girly book. It's what big brothers do."

. .
. .

Addison feigns being asleep when Mark gets back to the apartment that night. He's later than usual, the result of covering a later shift at the burn center, and then he said he was going to the gym after that. Or so his text says, Addison thought. He didn't touch her when he got into bed, which made her wonder if the layer of guiltiness was still clinging to his skin.

The next morning, she tells Mark her plans for the evening – dinner and a sleepover at her brother's hotel. She also slips in the fact that when she spoke with Archer last night, she told him the truth. Mark smiles and nods, and tells her to say hi to Archer for him. They don't know each other well, but the two men have always liked each other. Or, Addison thinks, Archer at least likes Mark more than he likes Derek.

Addison takes a deep breath and reaches into her Bottega Veneta bag. The rational part of her brain knows she shouldn't do this right now, because more than a few minutes of conversation means she will be running the risk of being late for work, but it's not like the rational part of her brain is firing on all cylinders. Realistically, if she did have a rational brain, many of the events that have happened in her life since last October would not have happened.

"And also…this isn't mine." Addison pulls the bra out of the bag and sets it on the counter. "You should return this to Bobble-boobs," she says, and instantly feels bad for making such a remark about an unknown woman who happens to have significantly bigger breasts than her. Good her her. And for all Addison knows, she could be a very nice person. "I found it in one of your drawers last night. I didn't have anything clean and was going to steal a shirt to wear to bed." She throws on the last part quickly, not wanting it to seem like she was sneaking around Mark's apartment collecting evidence of things to use against him or something. The trust between them is already inconsistent at best.

Mark sets down his mug of coffee. "That's not…" his head tips to the side, and Addison can't tell whether or not he is being overly performative, but the action annoys her. "I have no idea whose that is. What drawer did you find it in?"

"The one that has sweaters in it."

"Oh. That's definitely been in there a while then. No one has ever asked me about it, and I'm not in the habit of like…keeping bras." Mark grins weakly. "I would've gotten rid of it if I had looked in that drawer recently. I'm sure my maid found it and just…turned fire-engine red and put it as far out of her sight as possible."

"I guess I can see how someone might leave their panties when they head out in the morning…well, kind of," Addison says, tone light and conversational, as though the lost-and-found scramble that sometimes follows a one-night stand is something of genuine intrigue to her. "I don't really see it, but that makes more sense than a bra to me."

"I know this probably sounds like bullshit, Red, but what I said is the truth." Mark can just imagine Holly – who has a mild understanding of his lifestyle due to cleaning his apartment once a week – grimacing upon finding the item and stashing it in the nearest drawer, not quite burying it, but not exactly leaving it at the top of the drawer's contents, either.

An I-know-but-I'm-pretending-not-to-know thing. Mark assumes this is probably what has been going on with Addison in the past few weeks, too.

"I'm not accusing you of lying, Mark. I know this isn't the ideal time since I need to leave in a few minutes, but…are you still sleeping with other women?" Addison presses her lips together. "Since I moved in, I mean. Please just be honest. I know…I know we haven't talked about being exclusive, and that our situation is complex to say the least, so I have…" Addison pauses to take a deep breath. "I know I have to temper my reaction here. I know I'm not allowed to be upset, because of the rings and marriage and lack-of-exclusive-conversation thing."

Mark's instinct is to hang his head to avoid eye contact at all costs, he forces himself to look at Addison. "Yes," he says quietly, feeling heat rush to his cheeks. "A few days after you moved in, I slept with Becca. She's one of the nurses who works in the burn unit. And there was one night where you stayed at the brownstone that I went out to a bar and met a woman, and slept over at her place. And then I had sex with Charlene between surgeries once…the Monday after we got back from the Hamptons, and…and one other time last week. Last Wednesday or Thursday, it was. And that's it." He watches the sadness seep over Addison's face. That's it. It sounds awful laid out like that, and none of it actually needed to happen. Mark didn't have to do it. He feels like he shouldn't have done it, even though they haven't had a Next Steps Conversation yet. It's not like it made him feel better, because although sex is fun, he now without fail feels like shit afterwards if the woman isn't the woman he loves. But this is just who he is. This is what he does. And he isn't sure how else to cope with the fact that he feels like he's more committed to whatever this is than Addison is.

"I guess," Addison says, "there's a part of me that sort of thought that because we love each other, and because I'm staying with you, that you wouldn't still be sleeping with other women. I know I haven't directly said it's just you for me and me for you, so being with other people, in the absence of that conversation, well." Addison shrugs a shoulder, sadly. "Maybe that's your right. I just feel like…if you wanted me, it would just be me. And deep down, my biggest concern has always been whether you can actually be faithful to me. And, you know, be with just one person. I'm sorry, but it's just…that's never really been your MO."

"This goes both ways, Addison. You have to be faithful, too. Your husband may have left you, but you haven't really left him."

. .
. .

"Do you remember that tennis instructor we had before the Captain did Captain things?" Archer asks. They are sitting up in bed watching TV, and Addison is close enough that she feels the jab of his elbow against her shoulder. Despite Archer's earlier threats of fighting over the comforters, his room ended up being a double. Addison told him she'll move over to the next bed when she gets sick of him. "And when we ran into her at the club?"

"Julie," she murmurs. "Julie…something. God, I asked her if she was his whore. That was awful. And I did it on purpose."

"You were mad. You were mad because you and Bizzy you were supposed to be the only women in the Captain's life. And unfortunately…you weren't."

"Mark is still seeing other women," she says. They have talked a bit more tonight about what has been going on, so this statement is basically a recap of something Addison said earlier; the lack of surprise or reaction from Archer confirms this. "Well, not seeing. Sleeping. Sleeping with other women." Addison didn't like how they left things this morning. Mark's phone started to ring while they were arguing – he held it out to her, showing a call from Lynette. Addison figured it was something schedule-related that couldn't wait, so she gave Mark a nod and a wave, and went to grab her overnight bag. She texted later to tell him that she'd be back tomorrow night. She said maybe they could talk more then, and he replied and said that was a good idea.

"Again," Archer says with a loud sigh, "I can't tell you how thrilled I am to be talking about my sister's sex life…did you tell him that you want to be exclusive? Did you bring up rules and say you want to be girlfriend-boyfriend, or whatever the cool kids say to make it official these days?"

"No. Not yet. I told Mark this, but there's a part of me that thought I wouldn't have to, that he would care about me enough to cut it out, to show that he actually wants to do the couple thing. I might still be married, but it's not like I'm still sleeping with Derek. And I guess…I also felt like living together implied a level of seriousness we lacked before."

"That's still kinda short-sighted. You need to actually use your words. I hardly know the guy, and even I can tell you he's the kind of guy where you have to spell it out. He needs to know what you want. For someone so brilliant, Addie…there are a lot of things you are stupid about."

"Archer!"

"I'm sorry," he says when she glares at him, "but it's the truth. And I don't think Mark caring has anything to do with it. Living together goes hand-in-hand with being exclusive most of the time, sure, but your situation is a unique one…a very unique one. And guys who are a little messed up inside need…an outlet in the absence of a mature conversation. Otherwise, he's sort of just waiting for you to take your 'out' and book the first flight out of here. Addison, you either want to be 'in' or you don't. You know…life doesn't get easier. In my experience, it only gets harder, but having the right people on your team makes the hard parts sustainable…and sometimes you have to fight for what you want, not just sit there and hope everything comes up roses. Do you want to end up like Bizzy -"

"No."

Archer smirks at her swift interjection. "You didn't let me finish, sis. I meant like Bizzy and…and Susan. They could have had something real, if Bizzy had been bold enough to leave the life she thought she was supposed to have. With Derek…look, you can go to Seattle to fight for him and try to get back the life you thought you would always have. Maybe he would even take you back, but I'm telling you his heart wouldn't be in it, because his heart hasn't been in it in years. And maybe the right thing for you to do – the brave thing – is let go. It'll be hard, but better in the long run. And you're not a loser or a failure for getting a divorce, you know. You'd just be leaving something that clearly no longer works for you. Or for him. You might have hurt Derek, but he hurt you, too. All the time. And even if things don't work out with Mark…Derek isn't the answer. Real men don't leave. Real men stay and fight. If Derek was the right person – well, still the right person, I should say – he wouldn't have walked away. And be honest: Derek was walking away from you long before he started his cross-country Under the Tuscan Sun thing."

Addison sits up straighter. "Wait. Wait," she says. She doesn't disagree with her brother, but before she discusses all that, she needs to bring up the other thing first. "You knew about Bizzy being in love with Susan? I thought…I thought it was just me."

"Again: stupid." Archer holds up an arm in defense when Addison swats at him with a pillow. "I mean, it's not like I always knew, although certain things while we were growing up sort of make sense in retrospect. But there was Bizzy's insistence that you do the surgery – her maniacal insistenceabout it – and then, obviously, what happened after Susan died. And I'm sure the Captain knows, too. Honestly, that's probably why he sleeps around. And Addie…I'm sorry, by the way. I know I said it when you came up from the basement, but I wanted to apologize again, and I never did. I should have helped you clean up the blood. Or stopped you. That was too traumatic for you, on top of the trauma from the day before. I wasn't sure if you knew the truth about Bizzy being a closeted lesbian…and I didn't want to bring it up if you didn't. That period was hard enough, and then after that, it seemed like things were falling apart in your marriage."

Addison shakes her head when she sees the regret on his face. "You were just trying to protect me," she replies. "It's what big brothers do. You know…one of the worst things about that time – besides, like, everything – was that Derek left the day after the suicide attempt. It was some sort of rare procedure where only a handful of neuro surgeons had the skillset to do it, and I know I said he could go, that I would be fine, but I didn't…I didn't think he would really leave."

Mark wouldn't, she knows. He would cling tighter.

"But Derek did leave," Archer states. "And now he's left again."

"I know. And I want to be with Mark, but -"

"No buts. On one side is you and Mark." Archer makes a sweeping motion with his arm. "And then everything else," he says, bringing his arm in the opposite direction, "is on the other side. Yes, the divorce process will be suck, but you'll get through it. And people are going to talk, and judge, and Bizzy will lose her shit, but none of that matters. That's just filterable noise, if you only let it be that. And all the things that are new about this relationship with Mark…that's the stuff you figure out as you go. It's not like the first time you had sex was the time you were caught; this is something that has been going on for a while – not that I want to think about it – and you said you want to be with him. You need to put both feet in before you run out of chances. And if it doesn't work out with Mark, if you don't end up making it work, at least you fought for something with someone who actually wanted to fight for you. And plus…next to trying and winning, the best thing is trying and failing. C'mon…" he smirks at Addison, whose lips are moving soundlessly as she tries to place those words. "I know you know it."

"Anne Shirley," she finally says with a grin. "Anne of Green Gables."

"Yep." Archer gives her hand a quick pat. "Another stubborn redhead with some misadventures throughout the course of her life."

Addison reveals a small, sad smile while she studies the hand her brother just touched.

She has failed at being married.

And that's the thing about the rings. It's not necessarily her undying love for Derek or a delusional sort of clinging to the last vestiges of her marriage that is keeping those metals on her fingers – taking the rings off is just one more thing she's messed up. Just one more way in which she could not measure up, has proven she is not good enough.

"Yes, she was a stubborn redhead. And," Addison adds quietly, "a redhead who just wanted to find a home with people who loved her."

"You have that, Addie. All you have to do is admit it. And then go home again."

Addison nods in both acceptance and agreement. She knows deep down that not wanting to fail isn't the best reason to stay with someone. Not if it has somehow become the only reason.

And not if there are more reasons to leave, to actually let go.

. .
. .

Addison wakes up early the next morning, the result of an unstoppable swarm of thoughts and anxieties that prevented her from ultimately get a good night's sleep. She plots out her day – the surgeries she has, the preemies she is still concerned about, how long it will take a cab to get from here to NYP – and then gets moving quickly once she realizes she forgot her hospital ID badge. It's not the end of the world since loaners exist for a reason, but it motivates Addison to decide to return to the apartment before work. She reminds herself that it would be good to see Mark, too, to perhaps crawl into bed with him for a moment if he's not up yet.

She trips over a pair of Archer's shoes while getting ready, and her simultaneous gasp and stumble is enough to make her brother stir. Addison starts to say, "This wasn't my fault," at the same time a grumpy Archer moans out, "I hate you and you're the worst."

"You love me," she counters, smirking in his sleepy direction. "And hey, text if you need to cancel tonight's second room service dinner because the author you said you have some sort of a thing with ends up being dumb enough to go out with you."

Addison doesn't text Mark on the cab ride back, even though they have talked before about their mutual dislike of surprises. She figures this qualifies as a good surprise though. Instead, she texts Savvy, fingers trembling with nerves as she asks her friend if she knows a good divorce attorney.

She comes into the apartment quietly, not wanting to alarm Mark with a Hi, I'm home in case he is still sleeping. And thank God. Thank God thank God thank God I didn't, Addison thinks when a female shriek comes from the kitchen. It takes her a moment to see the woman making coffee, even though Mark's kitchen is visible from the front door.

"Doctor Montgomery-Shepherd," Charlene squeaks out at the same time Mark paces down the hallway, clearly alerted by the woman's sound of alarm. "Good morning. Um. Hi." Charlene pulls tighter at a button-down shirt of Mark's that has been left mostly unbuttoned, and is skimming the tops of her thighs.

(It also somehow adds insult to the injury that Charlene is successfully using Mark's espresso machine, something Addison still needs assistance with sometimes.)

"Addison…" Mark says quietly. She doesn't look at him.

"Charlene," she says politely and with a forced-gracious smile. "Nice to see you out of your work clothes." She's a little proud of herself for this line, and it actually does make Charlene crack a weak grin. "I was planning to carpool to work with Mark this morning since he's starting his day at NYP. Unless – unless I mixed the days up?" She turns towards Mark for a moment, and then back to Charlene. "I should have called, or at least knocked before coming in. I'm sorry for startling you."

Charlene quietly excuses herself to get dressed, while Addison considers that although this is not the best lie, it doesn't come across as completelyunconvincing. She's known Mark long enough – and Charlene knows this, too – that having a key wouldn't be entirely out of the question. The overnight bag she brought to Archer's hotel last night doubles as a gym bag, and although she has stuff around the apartment (including two pieces of luggage in Mark's walk-in closet), nothing honestly clearly indicates that she lives here. And at any rate, she doubts a formal tour of Mark's apartment was on last night's agenda with Charlene.

Mark clears his throat and tries again. "Addison…"

"Don't," she says through clenched teeth. "Please wait until she leaves."

Addison tries to beat down the wave of sadness and insecurity that is telling her that it's her fault that the man she loves – conversation of exclusivity notwithstanding – cannot make it even one day without sleeping with someone else.

It's a callback to the part of Addison that always feels like everything is her fault. There is still so much that she carries with her, no matter how many forward moments propel her further away from the mistakes and failures. Hitting the wrong key during a piano recital. Freezing during a debate team competition (something about agricultural policy, and while the for and against sides now elude her, the look of disappointment on the Captain's face when she locked eyes with him in the dimmed auditorium will never go away). Having to drop a course at Columbia. The college boyfriend who broke up with her essentially because she wouldn't give it up quick enough ("Fuck him. He's not worth it and I will totally spread a rumor that he has syphilis if you want me to," Savvy told her, but Addison still felt like a loser). For not wanting to have kids on Derek's timetable. For patients who have died on her operating table. Susan. Addison blames herself for not being able to save Susan, even though her mother's lover came to her with a death sentence. And Bizzy. Bizzy might not be a great mother, but there are a lot of ways in which Addison knows she could be a better daughter. She blames herself for Bizzy's suicide attempt, for not being there and somehow for being there, too.

And while the reason Derek left her is her fault, Addison still holds herself responsible for Derek becoming distant. She remembers a loopy Amelia telling her once, post-overdose, I feel like there's something fundamentally wrong with me. And Addison sometimes feels this way too, even though she can hide it well when she needs to.

"So…" Charlene says when she comes back into the kitchen in a pair of yoga pants and a loose-fitting white shirt, and with a fully-packed tote bag hanging off her shoulder. It's an outfit that confirms it's not like the two of them connected while leaving work yesterday, or met while out at the same bar. This little sojourn was not spontaneous, Addison knows. "I should get going." She gives Mark a little wave and then turns back to Addison. "I'll see you later today, in…" she grins weakly. "In work clothes."

"I forgot that she actually has a pretty good sense of humor," Addison says a few seconds after Charlene has shut the door behind her.

"Addison. I'm sorry…"

"Why here? Why here?" Addison asks, voice rising. She wants to cry, but she tells herself that she won't. She just won't. "You couldn't have gone to her place or just…anywhere else? I live here. I sleep on the left side of the bed and I have a bottle of shampoo in the bathroom and a favorite coffee mug and I'm halfway to knowing how to work your espresso machine. I know I have a different billing address and an entire life inside the brownstone, and those things aren't particularly fair to you, but…but still…it's only been twenty-four hours since I was last here."

"Addison." Mark shakes his head. "I didn't do it to upset you. She texted me last night and I just…I just…"

Try, Addison thinks, pushing through the hurt feelings and anger. Try. Try. Fight.

"I want it to just be me," she snaps, watching as Mark's eyes widen. "Okay? I want it to God damn just be me. I texted Savvy this morning and asked if she knows any good divorce attorneys. I'm taking steps, okay?" She removes her rings and slams them hard enough on the counter that the sound reverberates throughout the kitchen. And it sort of hurts her hand, too.

What has no beginning, middle, or ending? Donuts and circles.

And rings.

Addison felt that falling in love the first time – all those years ago with Derek – was buoyed by optimism, a natural byproduct of being so young and, in a lot of ways, innocent. Love the second time around feels like fractions of bravery and vulnerability.

"Addie -"

"Just…please just leave them there." Her eyes briefly flicker back to the rings. "I'll find a place for them later. I don't know what to do with them yet, and I don't feel ready to get rid of them. But they're off, okay? They're off. I just took a step. Two steps, actually, because of the attorney thing. And now you need to take a step, too."

"Okay. I'm taking the step," Mark says, literally taking a step forward as he says it. "No one else. Just you and me." His arms extend towards her, and Addison holds a hand out, a signal for him not to come any closer.

"Please don't touch me right now," she says, voice breaking like glass. "I…I'm running late and I forgot my ID badge. That's why I came back. And…and a change of clothes, I guess. I'm going to sleep at Archer's again tonight. Don't…" she chokes out, eyes finally growing misty with tears. "Please don't be with anyone else while I'm gone. I know there's still a lot to figure out, but I want it to just be me. You and me," she says, swiping her hand in one direction and then the other, "and then everything else. Now go shower. I can smell her tacky drugstore perfume from here. You smell like her. You smell cheap."

Bravery and vulnerability.

And heartbreak, too.

. .
. .

"You know what normal people do?" Addison asks Archer when he shows up at brownstone with about an hour's notice (Just come in for one drink, she told him when he called, hoping to just pick her up in his rental car. Broody – as you call him – isn't here. He took a weekend shift. One drink and then we'll go grab dinner.). "They call their little sisters in advance. They notify them of their plans."

"It was last minute," Archer says with a smile that always makes Addison soften and forget why she was annoyed with him in the first place. "There's a fall publishing event tomorrow at The Langham and Rhonda said she needed some star power. Last minute-ness aside, at least I timed this decently…you said you're gonna be in the Hamptons next weekend?"

Yes, Addison confirms, and extends an invite to her brother, because that would be fun; it's been a few months since they've seen each other in the flesh, after all. Derek will hate that Archer will be there, but this brings Addison a little bit of pleasure, so angry that she is at her husband's indifference. And Archer's decision to decline ends up changing the entire course of Addison's life. It is October right now, just a few days before she will sleep with Mark for the first time.

Archer sighs while he scratches at the back of his head, an indicator that he's conflicted. "I do really like the Hamptons," he says, "but I have to get the next few chapters submitted to my editor by the end of November, and I'm pretty behind. Unfortunately, in order to do my best writing I basically have to shut myself in a room with no distractions. I'd be too tempted to just hang out with you guys if I went. Another time though?"

"Yes. Definitely another time."

"So it's really just you and Muscles Sloan going?" Archer asks, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

"Okay, do you have a nickname for everyone I interact with? And no, not just Mus – Mark Sloan. I told you Derek is coming too," Addison says, speaking faster when Archer starts to mumble something that sounds like yeah right. "And even if it was just Mark and me, it wouldn't be weird. We've been friends a long time. You know that. Hell, Mark might even be closer friends with me lately than he is with Derek, given how absent he's been."

Archer sighs lowly. "Something has to change, Addie. This isn't a good relationship anymore."

"Archer Aldridge…definitely the half of Team Montgomery qualified to dole out marital advice."

"No, I'm not an expert," he replies. "I'm a manwhore, a good time guy -"

"Gross."

"But that's my choice. And I like the life I have. But I still know a thing or two about coexisting with people you care about. And a relationship where you're lonely, where you're sad, where you're ignored and dismissed…that's not okay. Stop trying to normalize it. You don't deserve to feel this way. Logic dictates that you should have a bad day from time-to-time, or even a string of bad days, which, yeah, might mean a bad day or a string of bad days as a couple. But you're not supposed to feel stressed and upset the majority of the time, Addie. That's not what love is. Even good time guys know that."

"Archer…"

"Just one more thing and then we go back to talking crap about people we grew up with; you're gonna love what I have to tell you about Tara LeFevre. It's just, what's been going on with Derek…it's not the same thing as having to tell someone more than once where the scissors are. This is serious." Archer refills her glass of wine. "You've told your husband more than once that he's more married to his career than he is to you, and that it feels like he never wants to spend time with you. Telling him you're unhappy or that you feel like there's distance between you guys just once should have been enough for him to drop everything and sit down and figure this out with you. But it hasn't been."

. .
. .

"Hi," Mark says when Addison opens the door to Archer's hotel room. He observes that she must have just gotten out of the shower recently; she is fresh-faced, wearing a fluffy hotel robe, and her hair is still damp, hanging long down her back and brushed away from her face.

Addison blinks in surprise. "I thought you were room service."

"No. Just me. Doing the grand gesture thing. Or the medium gesture. This isn't very elaborate. Is it okay if…" Mark makes a lifting motion with his palm, and Addison moves to the side so he can enter. "I thought we could talk. I just…I didn't like how we left things this morning."

"I didn't either," she admits. "Did you charm one of the ladies at the front desk into giving you the room number?"

"No. That was option two, if I had to. Option one worked though. I texted your brother and asked if he'd mind if I came over to talk to you and he – for some reason – was okay with that and gave me the number. Is he…?" Mark has just realized that Archer is nowhere in sight.

"He's a couple floors up," Addison explains. "Doing things I don't want to think about with another author who is here for the publishing event. He won't be back until morning, so it's my room for the night. Well, I guess our room now," she says, "if you want to stay. Also…you guys have each other's phone numbers?" This detail confuses Addison. Mark and Archer might get along well, but they are acquaintances at best, really having only hung out a few times throughout the course of Addison and Derek's relationship.

"Sort of unintentionally, in a way," Mark tells Addison while she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. She reaches towards a half-empty champagne glass on a serving table and takes a small sip. "He's actually listed in my contacts right under you as 'Addison's brother.' At Derek's bachelor party," he elaborates while taking a seat next to her, "we all exchanged numbers. You know, in case someone got lost."

"Oh," Addison says with a wry smile, "in case someone didn't want to watch the strip tease and decided to go to a different bar, you mean?"

Mark smirks back at her. "Sadly, I was forced to plan a stripper and lap dance-free party, because you know Derek would have hated that crap. We went camping instead. Well, fancy camping," he says, and Addison laughs, because she remembers this. The guys rented some sort of cabin at Letchworth State Park. "You know that neither Archer nor myself are camping kind of guys."

"No, you're not. And while I'm sort of stuck on the idea of how one of you would actually get lost, I don't really care enough to think it through right now. Sorry the room is…" Addison makes a vague, chin-lifting gesture and Mark isn't really sure what she is trying to specify, because the room seems perfectly orderly. "I just got out of the shower."

"I can see that. We're both squeaky clean…and no lingering cheap perfume." Mark holds a hand out and slips his fingers through hers. "Addison," he says softly, and it's enough for her to look over at him, close enough that if he leaned any nearer, he would be cross-eyed. "I really am sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't do it to hurt you. I was just so mad about where things stood with us. Charlene sent me a text last night and I should've ignored it or told her no, but when I'm upset, this is sort of my default move. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"It's only been a little over a month," Addison replies, and her eyes fill with tears. "Five weeks. That's, like, the smallest percentage of my marriage, when you break it down by numbers. And even though I love you with my whole heart, anyone who thinks it's simple to take the rings off and just sign my name at the bottom of some documents, doesn't understand all the nuances of what it really means to end a marriage, to end the past two decades of my life. And to jump right from a marriage into a new relationship is terrifying. But I'm trying. My rings are off and Savvy texted me back with two names and I'm trying, Mark. I'm not ready to tell everyone I'm separated, I'm not ready to announce to, like, the world that we're a couple, and I can't promise that I will call an attorney tomorrow, but I will call. I know that it's over, but…"

"Knowing and dealing with it are different things," Mark answers, words feeling thick with empathy. He uses his thumb to smudge away a tear that has dropped down Addison's cheek. "And I know it's a lot to deal with. I'm sorry it happened this way…that you catching me with someone else was the catalyst for taking the rings off."

She shakes her head. "I was coming home to tell you that I was going to take them off. That I wanted us to be together – be a real couple – and to figure things out one step at a time. One slow step at a time. But," she adds with a shrug, "I guess it wouldn't be us if it didn't happen in some sort of completely screwed up way."

"Hey…" Mark grins. "You called it 'home.'"

It is home, Addison thinks. It doesn't really feel like her home, neither aesthetically (too much gray and chrome) nor physically (too much stuff still at the brownstone), but she knows that it's home in the sense that Mark is there. And that's what's important. Being together is what makes it a home.

"I called it home," she confirms. "You and Charlene…that hurt my feelings so much. It was like a scalpel in the chest. But I know that I've been hurting you, too. And I know I could've handled this morning's discussion better…or said some things differently. Same with yesterday. I always get super emotional right before I get my period. Because female bodies are stupid." Addison rolls her eyes. "So right now I'm just like…a basket case on top of my regular level of basket case-ness. This upcoming week is going to be a rough one for you, Mark Sloan."

"You're worth it."

Addison's lips rise as if to make a joke – you bet your ass I am, she wants to say – but she can't quite say it. Not when she is fighting off the riptides of concern, that this man might not be able to remain devoted, or that one day, just like Derek, he will choose to grow apart from her. Away from her. All because she is ultimately not worthy of unconditional, stand-the-test-of-time love.

"Hey." Mark cups her cheek in his palm, forcing her look back to him. "Even when it's hard, you're worth it. Okay?" He says, and she gives him a tiny nod.

"What are you doing?" Addison asks when Mark unties the strings of her robe and starts pulling the garment off, revealing larger sections of her shoulders. Sex – makeup or otherwise – just feels too exhausting right now. She knows she'll melt the second Mark's lips touch her bare skin, and that he'll make it feel so good for her – for them – in the way he always does, but the concept of sex right now doesn't sound appealing.

"Taking this off so we can get you changed," Mark says, which is not what Addison expected and ends up drawing a smile across her face. He leans down, reaching into her bag and pulling out a shirt – one of his shirts, he realizes, and it makes him feel happy – and pajama pants. "I know you don't need my help, but you still deserve to be taken care of sometimes."

"Mark…how do I know I can trust you?" Addison asks, raising her arms so he can put her (his, technically) shirt on. "To not…to not be with anyone else?"

"How do I know I can trust you?" He counters, but there is no contempt or retaliation in his tone. It is a sincere question. "You said Derek doesn't want you, but let's say he changed his mind, and told you he loves you and can't live without you. I mean, that would at least give you pause, right? Just be honest. I'm just asking you to be honest."

"Yes, it would give me pause," she admits. "It would at least make me think, or maybe just grieve harder, because I think for a while there is going to be a part of me that feels the right thing to do would be to not become a divorce statistic. I just hate the idea of failing at something, at making mistakes," Addison says while standing up to climb into her pajama bottoms. "Everything in my head is just a disaster right now and I'm a little – no, a lot – broken. But I don't…I don't want to leave you, Mark. I love you and I want to be with you. And I want to be with someone who loves me back, who values me as a person, and that's you, not Derek. Sorry." She sighs. "I know that's not the best answer."

"I didn't ask for the best answer. I asked for the honest one. And while some of the honest answer makes me want to find a way to ground all planes that might be heading to Seattle, I get it, or I'm…I'm at least trying to get it. I know there are a lot of things I still need to be patient about it. I want you to just be honest, Red. And that's…I know that's an area I need to improve in, too. I just…I promise not to hurt you though, going forward. I promise."

"Don't promise that."

Mark frowns. "Addie -"

"No, just…" she interrupts. "Just promise you won't deliberately hurt me. This isn't going to be easy to navigate. It's going to require a lot of patience and willpower to push through the parts that are difficult, and frankly there are going to be a lot of difficult parts in the next few months. Hurt feelings are probably inevitable at times because of that, but I promise not to deliberately hurt you. Do you promise not to deliberately hurt me?" Addison asks, and Mark quickly nods. "Okay. Good. I'm…" she exhales weakly, and shifts past Mark to crawl into bed. "I'm so tired. Today was such a long day. And I haven't been sleeping well lately…"

"Let's sleep now then." Mark strips down to his boxer briefs, and gets into bed next to her. He coaxes Addison into his arms, and she sighs tiredly into the wall of his chest. He brings a hand up to stroke her hair; it's still a little wet, but he figures the comforter and his body heat will keep her warm. "Close your eyes and rest. Everything will be okay, Red. We can take our time and figure things out, and do the couple thing. Just you and me," Mark says, and her teeth accidentally scrape against his clavicle when she smiles, "and then everything else. Right?"

"Right. Can you keep doing that to my hair for a little bit? It feels so nice."

"Sure. Hey…hey, Red? Sorry, I know you're wiped out…but what time do you think Archer is going to come back tomorrow? Because while he might've been nice enough to tell me what room you'd be in, I don't think he wants to come back to find me spooning his sister."

"Would serve him right," Addison mumbles. "I've walked in on him twice before and it was…not great. But we're good. I told him to text when he's on his way. He won't be able to get in without my help anyway; I stole the other key card from his wallet when he wasn't looking. He'll have to knock if he wants to be let in, possibly in a state of half-dress if whoever he is sleeping with gets pissed at him and shoves him out the door. And then he'll have to stand in the hallway for as long as it takes for me to hear him knocking. I'd say it'll take two minutes. Gotta let him sweat a bit."

"Really?" Mark chuckles.

"Yep." She grins sleepily. "It's what little sisters do."

. .
. .

References/Nods to Various Episodes

Mark showing up at the hotel and Addison freshly out of the shower and opening the door only to say, "I thought you were room service" was a nod to Derek showing up at The Archfield at the end of Grey's 3x02…not realizing his best friend was also in the hotel room. A truly delicious scene.

Archer describes himself as a "Good Time Guy" in PP. It was fun to include him a bit more in this one (I have always enjoyed Montgomery siblings interactions). Yes, the guy is a total ass, but it was clear in the show how much he loved his sister. And while some of the Addison/Archer conversations throughout this chapter and Archer telling Mark what room they were in might have been a stretch (again, I'm not claiming to be canon-complaint), I do feel that Archer knew Addison better than most and wouldn't be afraid to give her a firm push, not necessarily for love, but because she needed a push to just do something.

Random note: during the first Grey's/PP crossover, Mark told Naomi he had never liked Archer. This surprised me, because it's not like these two would have interacted much…and they are similar in a lot of ways, so I could actually see them getting along. More likely Mark didn't like him because Derek didn't, so…Friendship Loyalty.

Addison at her mother's funeral (PP 4x14): "My mother told us that we should never cry in public. The Forbses didn't do that. If we needed to shed tears it should be in the privacy of one's own home. Even better, in the privacy of our own room."

Grey's 3x18:
Mark: "You didn't think I'd hold out?"
Addison: "No, I didn't."
Mark: "You're worth it."
Addison: "You bet your ass I am." *darlingwrecks starts weeping*

I waffled quite a bit while writing this chapter and the next one. This was always the general gist of the plot, but I had a few different ideas (some slower than others) on how to get there. *inserts Charlie in the mailroom meme here* I didn't want them deciding to be exclusive to be something where they're both running towards each other and confess their undying love and there are no hurt feelings and Addison signs the divorce papers without a second thought and they ride off into the sunset…because that's not how life works, you know? It's just not. And that's not them, that's never been them. Even though this has been a long-term affair with a huge emotional component for months and they love each other…it's still way too complex for Addison to just abandon the only life she knows for Something New with Mark that is happening at breakneck speed (if you need something with huge amounts of fluff and a Mark/Addison path to becoming a real, happy couple that is more simplistic and less nuanced, might I suggest my other posted fic, MTGOF...or a lot of others if you remember me from the LJ days ).

These two still have quite a few things to work through (I'm not entirely done with a certain can-you-be-faithful story arc)…and I'm sure you know what life changing event is coming next. Thanks for reading!