A/N: Hi! Chapter title is a lyric from the song "Unmade," by Sleeping At Last. This is sort of a long one (lol, shocker, but for real, possibly my longest one to date), but everything I wanted to cover just sort of fit in this chapter, and I'd rather have things flow than be split into multiple chapters. Also, the first two flashbacks are a continuation of the flashbacks from Chapter 23 (not necessary to reread to get it, but just as a heads-up), and the last flashback is a continuation of one from Chapter 32 (ditto previous parenthetical note).

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Chapter 34. When We Speak, We Risk an Avalanche

"We should probably make you an appointment for a massage or something," Mark says while he works his fingertips in small circles across Addison's shoulder blades. He has been at this for several minutes now, but does not feel like he has made any strides; anyone affiliated with spa services on the amenities floor of his building would have at least worked out some of Addison's muscle tension by now. "This is like trying to drill through metal."

Addison smirks. "I didn't think there was a limit to what your hands are capable of doing." When they were getting into bed tonight, she sheepishly asked Mark if he would rub her shoulders for a few minutes (and why asking felt difficult, Addison cannot quite figure out). Mark said of course, and repositioned his legs, spreading them apart so she could sit between them.

Mark chuckles at this observation. "Neither did I." He presses a little harder, kneading at a knot near her neck, and he hears the quiet hiss Addison drags in through clenched teeth. "Sorry," he offers. "Let me know if I need to ease up."

"No, it's fine. I sort of wondered about that spa. I always see advertisements for it in the elevator and lobby, but I figured you needed to be an actual resident to take advantage of the treatment rooms. Like, have your name on the lease."

"I can pull some strings for you."

"That might be nice," Addison says, because it is easier to just express appreciation than dive into a discussion about the prenatal aspect of massages; prenatal-anything is not something she wants to dwell on right now. "So…while I was at the brownstone, I got a call from Richard Webber. He's -"

"Chief of Surgery in Seattle," Mark interrupts. "I remember you telling me. What, uh. What did he have to say?"

"He wants me to look at some scans. He has a patient who is pregnant with identical twins…and an ultrasound a neighboring hospital did confirmed she has Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome." Addison starts there, and decides to leave out the potential surgery part – her potential surgery – for now. It will be better to look at tomorrow's scans first and then make a plan. Besides, it is the other news she feels compelled to share right now. "He also told me Derek is seeing someone. Or at least…sleeping with someone. But it's Derek, so." Mark feels the light twitch of Addison's muscles when she shrugs. They are both thinking the same thing: Derek is not a casual sort of dater. He never was, even in the years before he met Addison. You're a serial monogamist, through and through, Mark told him once, failing to hide the amusement and borderline disappointment in his voice. Derek had rolled his eyes and said, Yes, and I know there's nothing worse in your book than that. Derek's world was shattered recently, so while a fling might be the more conventional option, Mark does not think that is the case, because that is just not who Derek is. Whatever is going on with this Seattle woman might not be serious, but it certainly is not meaningless. At least in Mark's opinion. "She's an intern," Addison continues, judgment sharpening her voice, like the metallic sound of a weapon being drawn. "How ridiculous is that? Who sleeps with interns?" She peers over a shoulder at Mark when his hands go still. "Well." Addison tries to force out a laugh when she sees the uncomfortable look on his face. "Present company excluded, I guess."

"And not anymore," Mark adds.

"I'm sure she's like…the anti-Addison. Probably has that whole wide-eyed 'ooh he's a brain surgeon' thing going on, too. Anyway. I shouldn't…I know I'm not allowed to be upset about it. I made my choice. And I know I need to let him go. We're separated, and he certainly doesn't love me or want me back. So…he has the right to see other women. To sleep with other women."

Mark relaxes his fingers, and opts to just lightly stroke her back instead, hoping the motion feels comforting. "I think…" he says, trying to weigh his words and determine if the right words and the truthful words are the same in this situation. "You're allowed to have feelings about it, Addie. You're allowed to be sad and upset, and…and anything else."

Addison remains quiet while Mark continues to rub gentle patterns with his palms. The softness of his hands on her skin and the intimacy of the gesture feels healing in a way that the process of trying to relax her muscles does not. Healing and hurting are lining the same connective tissue in this case though, because Addison definitely does have feelings about Derek's mistress or girlfriend (the categorization dependent upon what Derek has told the intern about his previous life in New York). This was her husband. Well, is, technically (and she almost laughs at the thought that Derek is actually having an affair now too, in a way). And Addison loved Derek. Loves him, because that is not something that goes away with the snap of two fingers. Snippets of their relationship have continued to pour over her the past few weeks, even though the decision to hang onto the good memories inevitably makes her think of how bad things got in the last few years. She cannot seem to stop revisiting the past though, because the thing is, there are good memories. Addison considers some of them now while the other man she loves tries to offer her tangible comfort. She thinks about how Derek completely charmed when she met him. How they survived med school together, and while, yes, Addison could have gotten through it without him, and could have still graduated at the top of her class, the with him part made it so much better, didn't it? She thinks about how Derek proposed at the top of the Empire State Building. How he wrote her a song. How he became her family, and gave her a love she did not get from her parents. And no, Derek's mother never grew to like her, but his sisters did, and they gave her nieces and nephews. Addison thinks about how at one point she and Derek were each other's biggest career supporters, biggest supporters in general. How they planned to have children together – they had different, conflicting expectations on when that would be, but it was still a plan. She thinks about how Derek was loving, available, good-natured, considerate of her feelings – because he was all of those things for a long time. She thinks about how they were supposed to grow old together.

All of that is gone. And while it is clear Derek fell out of love with her long before she got into bed with Mark, long before she was willing to open her eyes and see that her husband wasn't in love with her anymore, that doesn't mean Addison doesn't ache for a life that is no longer hers. And for the future she thought she would have with Derek, but now will not.

Their wedding was like a fairytale (thanks in large part to Bizzy's planning). Addison was not raised with religion (dabbling by way of attending a Protestant church on Christmas does not really count, she feels) and Derek was already an incredibly-lapsed Catholic by the time he reached adulthood, but they still had biblical-based readings at their wedding, pulling from the most predictable of verses. Love is kind. Loves always perseveres. Love never fails. Except, it is not always and it does not always and it did. The fairytale wedding and fairytale that followed (because for years it truly was a good marriage) went up in flames. And now Addison is left untethered in the ashes. Pregnant and untethered in the ashes.

She remembers Savvy saying a few months ago that maybe what she had with Derek wasn't meant to be a beginning-to-end kind of love story. It was a great life with Derek, for a long time – an in-love-with-each-other life, a this-is-perfect-for-us-at-this-time-in-our-lives life – but maybe it was not meant to be a whole life. And how could it have been? Addison thinks as she leans back in Mark's embrace, forcing him to readjust and wrap his arms around her. No one should spend their entire existence in a relationship with someone who doesn't love them anymore. It is still incredibly painful though. And grief, as well as the guilt and remorse built in to how things ended, are not things that come with an expiration date.

"I guess you're right," she finally says. "I'll be okay though."

Mark is patient. Her body has always been predictable in its actions and responses. It is the one thing about Addison that is easy for him to read. The internal stuff – feelings and emotions – no, not always, but her physical desires, yes. He waits for her to turn around in his arms, and for everything that will follow. The way she will flick her hair away from her face and tilt her head to the side, exposing more of her neck for him to kiss. How she will smile that smile and her pupils will dilate with desire. How she will grind her body against his until they are both gasping for breath, until she is keening his name as she contracts around him. Sex can be a lot of things, but it always includes comfort for her.

But it does not happen. Addison remains slumped against his chest, and Mark eventually gets the sense that maybe she is just too exhausted. Even without the emotional fatigue from her conversation with Richard threaded in, this might just be how things are going to be a lot of the time going forward because of the pregnancy. And they have sex with incredible consistency, so periods of sexual dormancy will certainly be an adjustment for Mark.

Eventually, he adjusts their positions and helps Addison get settled next to him, their bodies loosely curled together as they roll onto their sides. It occurs to Mark that although he hopes – because he really does hope – that Derek is happy, he hates the part of himself that is happy for selfish reasons. Derek is taking a step forward, another step away from his marriage (which certainly helps with some of the will-she-leave-me apprehension that has been fraying through Mark). And it's not the only step, because with a looming divorce and a baby on the way, Mark knows that he and Addison are taking a step, too.

Maybe everything is going to work out for all three of them.

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. .

"Wow. Look at that." Derek smiles as he and Mark step into the postpartum room where their friends and their new baby are currently camped out. "Congratulations, you two."

"Yeah, congrats, man." Mark claps Sam on the shoulder. "I thought you'd be out in the parking lot smoking a cigar," he adds with a teasing grin.

Sam laughs and shakes his head. "No," he replies, "because I'm pretty sure that isn't something that happens anymore."

"And let's be real: the asthma," Naomi says. "Okay." She adjusts the baby in her arms. "Who's it gonna be? Who wants to hold Miss Maya Bennett first?"

Derek takes a step forward. "Me," he says, with all the confidence of a man who has babysat and interacted with nieces and nephews. "Trust me: Mark's never held a baby before and he doesn't want to start now."

This produces a laugh from everyone. Even Mark laughs, but the sound he emits does not feel genuine, at least not to him. It was more of a sort of laugh. He has a good sense of humor, and he does not take offense when a joke is told at his expense (after all, he tells plenty of jokes at others' expense), but this one…he lets his teeth clamp against the inside of a cheek. This one…stung a little? Or something? And he isn't sure why, because what Derek said is true. He's never held a baby before – not even during his peds rotation last year, because there was always someone else there who did the holding, or the infant was already positioned on the exam or operating table. And he has definitely never had an urge to hold a baby.

Maya is so tiny, so delicate-looking. Mark knows he would not drop her – of course not – but he thinks he would still harbor that fear no matter how securely she was wrapped in his arms. He would be worried that he would not hold her right (support the head, it seems like everyone always says). That he would not do the right thing when it comes to eye contact and words (talk to the baby is the other thing everyone says) which would inevitably make Maya start crying. And then Mark would feel like he had done something wrong, even though the idea of an hours-old baby making him feel insecure is the dumbest thing he has thought of in a while.

She's a cute baby though. Mark will give Sam and Naomi that much; they made a cute one. And he knows one day his best friends will make a cute baby, or babies. Derek and Addison haven't discussed baby stuff with Mark, but he knows he will end up being "Uncle Mark" to any offspring they produce. And a Montgomery and Shepherd baby is certainly one he'd hold, whether or not he actually wanted to. He thinks Derek would be slower and more cautious with the exchange, asking him, "You got him? You sure?" but Mark can imagine Addison presenting as more abrupt when it came to placing her son or daughter in Mark's uncertain arms. Oh, she'd be careful, definitely, and would probably remain right there with hover-ish hands in case the baby started crying, but Mark can just picture her saying, "relax, you're fine" and "you won't break her" and "babies are tougher than you think," if Mark expressed any hesitation. They have been friends for years, and for whatever reason, even though Addison is very aware of his flaws and the stupid things he does, she has faith in him. Most people do not. She has a big heart, he remembers Derek saying once about his wife. And Mark agrees. She does.

Mark peeks at the baby over Derek's shoulder. Just looking is better. Safer. He makes small talk with Naomi and Sam, mostly about how it went without actually having to hear how it went, and then he feels more relaxed when Addison finally comes back into the room after talking with a colleague in the hall. Yes, Mark is friends with Sam and Naomi too, and his best friend is standing next to him, but conversations like this just go better when Addison is there to contribute.

"Ah. That's your cue to leave," Naomi says a few minutes later, holding her arms back out for Maya when the baby starts to wriggle against Derek's chest and release little cries. "She wants to eat. And we're close, boys, but we're not that close. All three of you go home and get some sleep. Or throw a rager, if you want." Naomi offers them a tired grin. "You're not parents, so you can still do whatever you want."

As the three of them leave the hospital, Mark cannot help but think that even though he would have been nervous about it, and even though Maya probably would have cried in his arms much sooner than she cried in Derek's, that he actually would have liked to have gotten a turn to hold her.

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"You're up early," Mark acknowledges when he hears Addison moving around the bedroom on Monday morning. Light has not even begun to filter through the curtains yet. He opens his eyes and hoists himself into a sitting position, back curved against the headboard. He blinks heavily a few more times, until his eyes finally focus in on a silky floral robe Addison is wearing. It hits a few inches above her knees, showing off her thin, toned thighs. Mark has seen this robe before, and it is a far cry from the fluffy one that falls to her calves and in general means she is not open for business. This one though. Oh, this one. He has taken this one off her more than once. And when Addison gives him a sneaky-looking smile, he knows she is thinking the same thing.

"Yeah. Early surgery." Addison comes over to the edge of the bed. And she wants him, she does (not that she has to try to get Mark's interest, but the robe and nothing underneath was still a deliberate choice), but she also cannot deny how exhausted she is at the moment. And how sore her breasts are. And the fact that she wakes up nauseous now and stays that way throughout the day (thankfully she hasn't thrown up yet, but smelling coffee and cleaning products yesterday was a close call). Her current pregnancy symptoms are manageable though, and truthfully are not things she will notice once she gets in the OR. The symptoms will fall to the wayside, because these are things that can be written off as something else. Anything else. At this point, Addison can still create believable excuses in her head. She is tired because she works long hours, and also, today is Monday; everyone is tired on Monday. Her breasts are sore because she is going to get her period any day now, and the female body is a machine of chaos, sometimes. And she is nauseous because she is a surgeon and has not eaten yet, or had to scarf something down too quickly in between procedures. The reframe of how her body is doing makes it so that it is almost easy to pretend she is not pregnant. It is not a sustainable strategy, but for now, it is sort of working.

Addison smirks when Mark leans forward, trying to eye the clock on his nightstand. "If you're trying to determine if there's enough time for you to have your way with me, yes, there is, but -" she squeals, her words cut off when Mark tugs her onto the bed, and rolls himself on top of her. It feels good to be like this with him, it always does, and this is just one more element of normal for Addison in between the exhaustion and nausea and the fact that it truly feels like someone is holding a lit match near her nipples.

"Sorry," Mark murmurs, though he is not quite sure what he is apologetic for. "There was a 'but' at the end of that sentence?" Maybe he just feels a little guilty, a little uncertain, wondering if maybe he should not have yanked on Addison like that. But then, she's not going to physically break just because she's pregnant. Mark is mostly sure the concern is because he's still getting used to the idea that there's a baby inside her – his baby. It is still a lot to process, honestly. And he probably should have listened past the but, just to be polite.

Addison breathes out a throaty giggle. "I was just gonna say, there's time, but not a lot of time. So use the next ten to fifteen minutes wisely." She unties the strings of her robe, and negotiates her arms out of the sleeves, leaving bunched-up silk trapped between her back and the sheets.

"I can work with that. You saved some time by already being naked, too," Mark says while leaving light kisses along her collarbone. "Which I love you for." He drifts a hand down, palming at Addison's breast, but she makes a noise of discomfort through clenched teeth, and Mark backs off. He lifts his head to look at her. "Sorry." He forgot she might still be sore to the touch. He lowers his hand, pressing his fingertips against her ribs instead. "Habit when your clothes are off."

"I feel like it's sort of a habit for you when my clothes are on, too."

"Kinda, yeah." Mark takes a few moments to bury his face in her neck again, kissing as many spots as he can manage. He pays the other side of Addison's neck some attention next, and it's enough to make her squirm around and wiggle her shoulders in that eager way she often does to indicate that the slow, open-mouthed kisses and his questing hands feel really good, but she would love a bit more. "You're probably going to have to remind me from time to time to avoid that area…" Mark readjusts himself to brush a quick kiss against her lips while one of the hands he has been skimming along the lower half of her body drifts between her parted legs. He does not know a lot about pregnancy, but he does know a lot about breasts (as a plastic surgeon, and frankly, just as a person who has had an interest in breasts since adolescence), so he knows she might be tender there for the earlier part of her pregnancy. "Over the next few months," he finishes while he slides two fingers into her.

Addison's mouth parts open. "I – oh." Her eyelashes flutter and then her mouth stretches open a little wider when Mark curves his fingers up.

"You good?" Mark asks when she rocks back against his hand. But Addison just moans, spewing out little noises of encouragement that make him swell even more. And by the time Mark eases himself inside the heat of her, joining her in communicating in lustful noises because it never ceases to amaze him how fucking good it feels when her muscles surround him like this, he has forgotten all about that small moment where Addison looked like she wanted to tell him something.

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"I am very, very drunk," Addison announces as she drops a pillow and blanket on the futon couch for Mark (his makeshift bed for the night). It is just the two of them at the moment; Derek, who is also very, very drunk, has already said good night and stumbled down the hallway to go to bed.

Mark nods in agreement. "You are indeed."

"Aren't you?"

"I'm drunk, but with no emphasizing words." It is true. Mark drinks, but he rarely drinks to excess. He is mindful of his mother's history for one thing, the genetic predisposition, but it is more of a personal preference, because he doesn't like to not feel in control. They did drink a lot tonight though after they got back to Derek and Addison's apartment. And while Mark might not be "very, very" drunk…he is probably one "very" at this point.

Addison sits down next to him. "You went with rock, right?" She brings her fingers inward to make a fist. "When I walked in, Derek was holding Maya, so I figured you guys did rock-paper-scissors for who would get to hold her first. And my guess is you did rock, and Derek did paper. You're a rock guy."

"Hmm." Mark briefly contemplates this, trying not to laugh, because Addison looks deadly earnest in her assessment. "I've been called a lot of things, but never a rock guy. We didn't play, actually. Derek offered to hold her first. And then, well, she started crying, so…I'll hold her another time." He feels confused when Addison settles a hand on his shoulder. "What?" He asks. She is seated close enough to him that he can smell her breath, a combination of mint and tonight's alcohol.

"Are you okay, Mark?"

Mark blinks, even more confused. He does not think he did anything to indicate that he is not okay. Although now the question is actually making him wonder…is he okay? Shit, maybe he isn't. He stares at Addison for a moment, and finds himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her, or to even just drag his knuckles along the arch of her cheek. Her skin looks so peachy and soft. And this sort of answers Mark's question about whether or not he is okay (apparently not), and makes him realize that maybe he should attach more than one very to how drunk he is. God, Addison is pretty though. Inebriated to the point that Mark doubts she will remember anything from the past hour when dawn breaks in a swath of pastel colors, but still. Pretty. And her hand on his shoulder feels nice. He sets his hand on top of hers. It's probably not appropriate, but it's not really inappropriate either, he decides. This isn't any different than a hug at a social gathering or a kiss on the cheek at her wedding or reaching out to grasp her elbow when he's trying to catch up with her in the halls of NYP. It occurs to Mark that maybe he's just lonely tonight. Maybe it's something about Naomi and Sam adding to their family, and the understanding that Derek and Addison eventually will too. And Mark won't. He will be alone, most likely, which will be his fault. Any milestone catch-up he has to do will be of his own doing.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just got distracted. I was just thinking that Jenny always called it 'ro-sham-bo,' but in the Shepherd house, it was 'rock-paper-scissors.' Nancy usually won when we played. And Amy always cheated. She'd put her hand out to do scissors, for example, but then if she saw you did rock, she'd stick out the rest of her fingers, and try to claim that her intent was always paper, but some of her fingers were 'just slow.' And we'd pretend this was perfectly believable, of course."

"Of course," Addison echoes with amusement. "I know you don't go home all that often, and that you're not too close with your parents…and that whenever I'm in Syracuse I'm sort of stuck at Carolyn's house, but…I'd still really love to meet your parents one day."

"Sure. One day. Hey…why am I a 'rock guy,' Red? And what even is that?"

Addison shrugs. "I don't know. You just are. I should get to bed…but chug, like, a gallon of water first. Night, Mark." She retracts her hand from under his, and gives him a kind smile. "Sleep well."

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. .

Mark follows Addison's lead. He can see that she is still stressed, still worried, and because she is not really talking about the pregnancy, he does not either. He knows it is early though. Too early to tell people (he has not even told Lynette) and too early to make plans. And too early for her first prenatal appointment, per Addison (that one he did ask about). So maybe it's okay that it's radio silence about what is going on.

"You feeling okay?" He asks Addison on Tuesday night when he notices her staring out one of the living room windows with an expression that demonstrates she is a thousand miles away. She gives him a small shrug, but her eyes instantly tear up. "Just…overwhelmed?" He guesses, and Addison nods. "Okay. C'mere." He pulls her into his arms, and rubs her back while she sniffles into his shoulder. "We're gonna figure this out," he says. "And you're going to tell me if there's anything I can do to help or make this easier on you." Mark thinks maybe he will change strategies. Quietness and feigned ignorance don't seem to be working. If Addison doesn't want to talk about the baby and their future plans much yet, that's okay, but maybe he should do something nice for her. Flowers, maybe? Or call the front desk and actually make her an appointment for a massage? Mark decides he will give it some more thought when she is feeling a little better.

"Sex stuff?" Addison says in response to Mark's comment of support, and he can hear the held-back laughter in her voice. He nuzzles his nose against her cheek, showing affection.

"Among other things, yeah." And then Addison steps out of his embrace, and Mark sees it and feels it in more than one manner when she pulls away from him.

Yesterday afternoon, she told him about the scans Richard sent, and Mark asked her to explain TTTS. He thinks he must have learned about it at some point during rounds as an intern, but nothing rings a bell, so Addison explained the condition. She also told him the mother and twins are doing okay for now, but surgery was going to need to happen. Abnormally connected in a shared space…an imbalance…no barrier separating them. Mark gets stuck on some of the language of the disorder, because it does not sound all that unlike codependency; he's heard that one in therapy before, thanks to Olivia. And any sort of formal diagnosis aside, he knows that both he and Addison would do just about anything to avoid a conflict.

It feels like Addison is retreating.

Mark glances at his cell phone when Addison excuses herself by shrugging out of his hug. She mumbles something unintelligible as she makes her way back to the bedroom; Mark only catches fragments of statements about a shower and early bed and responding to Savvy. Or something like that.

He goes into his unread messages.

It really does feel like she's retreating.

. .

. .

When Addison arrives back at the apartment on Wednesday night, she is sporting a headache that feels like someone is shoving the heels of their hands against her temples, and she is also experiencing an aching head in a more emblematic sense, because she only has two days to decide whether or not to purchase a plane ticket to Seattle (and to share this plan with Mark). She really just wants to fall into bed (if she was less tired, she might text Savvy to ask her what her earliest bedtime during pregnancy was, because she's pretty sure her friend won't be able to beat eight o'clock), but that plan is disrupted by Mark. She hardly so much as sets foot in the door when he steers her into the kitchen with a smile on his face, informing her that he has something to show her.

Addison pauses when she reaches the kitchen counter, where Mark has carefully laid out a newborn-sized Yankees onesie. She sets her Chloé bag down, and then reaches a finger out, tracing over the arches and points of the team emblem, and then the pinstripes as she tries to gather her thoughts. Her throat feels tight, and the room feels like it is getting smaller. The onesie is so cute, and like many of the things Mark says or does, it is well-intended. And Addison thinks that maybe she does feel a slight glimmer of interest about the possibility of putting this outfit on a future son or daughter, but she cannot deny that this was not her first thought. Or the thought that is weighing the heaviest.

"Gotta make sure this one is a true New Yorker from day one," Mark says. This was the something nice he came up with. He had Lynette move one of his appointments to a later time so he go pick up some flowers for Addison, but when he was on West 170th, he noticed an infant and children's clothing store a few shops down, and decided to go in (the store has always been there, but Mark wonders if he is starting to notice things that pertain to babies more now). It was overwhelming in there – absolutely packed with clothes and things he can really only think to describe as baby products – but when he spotted a row of sports-related apparel, he felt a little more comfortable.

"Oh, Mark," Addison says quietly. "This was so thoughtful. You didn't…you didn't have to do this." You shouldn't have done this, is what she actually needs to say. It is starting to hit her. Slowly.

"I know, but I wanted to. I can't believe how tiny it is. I looked at the tag multiple times to confirm it wasn't meant for a preemie. I got it from a place near the practice. It's -" Mark pauses when Addison withdraws her hand from the soft material. She looks upset. Mark can see it in the way she is trying to avoid eye contact, and how her facial muscles are moving in ripples, an indication that she is working her teeth against her inner lip. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just…" Addison glances past him at the wall calendar a few feet away from the onesie. "That's new, too," she says, pointing it out. The calendar is currently closed and flipped upside down, so all she can see are little preview squares on the back for each month. Most of them appear to be beach photos.

"Oh, yeah. It's Hamptons-themed…that felt fitting for us. I already marked the due date." Mark leans past her to grab the calendar, and then he works his thumb along the paper edges, opening it to the month of July. "And maybe you can write down your first appointment, when you schedule it. You said the first visit is usually at eight weeks, right?"

Oh, God, Addison thinks. I wasn't clear. And now it has hit her fully. No, no, no. Shit.

"I'm so sorry," she croaks out. I'm screwing all of this up for him. Her mind is reeling, and she thinks about when she was seven and spilled a glass of juice (a rare treat for her) all over Bizzy's cream-colored lace tablecloth. Goodness, Addison, her mother snapped while the maid gathered up the soiled tablecloth (because it wasn't like Bizzy was going to be the one to clean it). Do you have to ruin everything?

"Sorry for what?" Mark asks.

Addison takes a shaky breath. "I know you said you want to have a baby. But, Mark…I don't know that I do. When we were talking on Sunday, you said we'd figure it out, and I agreed we would figure it out. That's what I was saying yes to. Not…not to having the baby. That's the figuring out part that I'm still, well…trying to figure out. I'm not saying no, but I can't…I can't say 'yes' yet. I'm trying to determine if this is what's right for me. What's right for me right now. And I'm really sorry. I wasn't trying to, like, mislead you or cause confusion. Clearly I should have tried to talk about this more and not shut down. I'm not trying to hurt you, but this just…this changes everything, and I need to be sure I'm making the right choice, that this is the right time to have a baby. And I -" she hesitates when her cell phone vibrates. "Sorry." She fishes the phone out of her bag, and then pinches her thumb against the side of the device to power if off. "I'll check it later. I'm waiting for Richard to email me back. He sent me a few more scans today, and he…he asked if I would be willing to go out there and do the surgery. There aren't many surgeons who can separate fetal blood vessels. I happen to be one of them."

"You're going to go to Seattle?"

"I'm not sure," she admits. "I told Richard I would think about it, and let him know by the end of the week. And then fly out Sunday or Monday, if I were to tell him yes. I'll…I'll let you know as soon as I decide."

"If you go to Seattle, what about…what about divorce stuff? Since you'll see Derek there, I mean." It is the only thing Mark can think to say. And maybe it's a selfish subject transition because he knows there are lives on the line here: a patient with a high risk pregnancy, and her two babies. But it feels like other lives, Mark's included, are on the line right now, too. "Would you be able to deal with signing the papers and finalizing things? Or at least…get things started?"

"I have to talk to Harper," Addison says, referring to the divorce attorney she briefly spoke with last week. "I'm not really sure how it works, like the serving and stuff…it's definitely not the kind of thing that can be resolved in one day though, not with all the assets between us…I think I need to file here, since I live here, and filing here means divorce proceedings take place here…I think. I need to call Harper back and let her know what day I want to come in to talk some more and begin the divorce process."

"You still haven't called her." Mark crosses his arms. "You said you were going to make an appointment."

"God. I'm going to. I said that I would. I'm going to get a divorce, Mark. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Is it what you want?" He snaps back. "Or is this just your chance to go to Seattle and convince Derek to take you back? Especially now that you know you've lost him. How convenient."

Addison makes a frustrated noise that curls in the back of her throat. "Yes, I want to get a divorce. Even though it really freaking sucks and it isn't easy. I chose you. But my mind has been a little preoccupied since Saturday night. And now with…with the baby…" she quiets when Mark opens his mouth again.

"I guess I just…I didn't realize…" Mark shrugs sadly. "You don't want a baby?"

"I don't know that I want a baby right now. Think about where things are with us. We're not on the most solid ground. I know that you're excited, but I'm…I'm just not. At least not right now. And maybe that will change. I'm waiting to see if it changes. I need a little more time to process all of this. I'm sorry, but I'm just…trying to be honest. I'm doing my best. This is the best I can do at the moment."

I'm doing my best. That's what Jenny always said. And Mark almost always scoffed, especially as he got older.

"I wasn't trying to, you know, manipulate you with the calendar and the onesie. I just…genuinely thought we were on the same page." Mark wants to at least acknowledge this. He feels so stupid. And all he wanted was to do something nice for her.

"I know," Addison tells him. "And it's a really, really sweet gesture. What I'm mostly feeling right now, is wishing that I didn't have to think about this, that I didn't have to make any decisions about what's happening inside my body. It's real, but…it's also not real for me. This doesn't feel entirely real yet. So I need some time. We have time…and I'm going to take that time."

"But you're thinking about…you want to get an abortion."

She bristles at his wording. "No one wants to get an abortion, Mark."

"I know none of this stuff with us has ever been easy, but we can make it work. Don't you want to make it work? We could be a family. I mean, we love each other -"

"I don't know. I want to have a baby, I do, but that doesn't mean right now is the best time. This is all happening too fast. And the stuff with Charlene doesn't really do anything to convince me that this is the right time. It makes me feel like it's not. It makes me feel like we're only going to be together until one of us messes up."

You might as well have said until I mess up, Mark thinks, feeling his chest tighten in frustration.

"I haven't been with anyone else," he says. "And that includes Charlene. Not since we said we were exclusive. I love you and I wouldn't do that to you, Red."

Addison almost smiles. Mark notices the challenging look that simmers in her eyes, and then he realizes what is coming. Fuck. She was holding back, waiting for the opportune moment. This is her ace in the hole. "Charlene sent you a text yesterday," she tells him. "I saw it on your phone. And then I saw additional texts this morning, while you were in the shower." Addison raises an eyebrow, waiting for Mark to respond, and she is also almost hoping he'll ask why she was looking at his phone in the first place, just so she can ask him what kind of a dumbass doesn't have auto-lock and just leaves his phone lying around, especially when he knows that he and his girlfriend have trust issues.

Fuck, Mark thinks again. Just promise you won't deliberately hurt me, Addison told him last week. And now he has. Charlene texted him last night, just as Addison went off to take a shower (but apparently her shower and straight-to-bed routine did not prevent her from seeing the text). Charlene asked Mark if he wanted to come over Friday, referencing watching the fight together; they both have a casual interest in UFC, and there is a highly-anticipated heavyweight match slated for that night.

"I didn't say I was going," Mark tells Addison. "I'm not going."

"You didn't tell her that," she retorts. "You didn't say you were going, but you also didn't say you weren't. You sure made an effort to keep the conversation going though." And it's accurate. Mark exchanged a few more texts with Charlene after she asked him if he wanted to come over – texts Addison doesn't want to think about – but at no point did he actually decline the invite. And Addison told Mark she was thinking about going over to Savvy's on Friday (because that is her tentative plan if she isn't bound for Seattle), so she has plenty of reasons to worry about how Mark will spend his free time that night. And from the look on Mark's face, he can tell that this is what she is thinking about.

"I'm going to tell her. I swear to God, I'm not going to go over there, Addie. If you go to Savvy and Weiss's, I'll sit outside on their stoop all night just so that you know I'm not -"

"You didn't take the time to say no to Charlene, but you certainly took the time – the both of you did – to talk about what else you would do if you went over there." Addison's face heats up at the mention of it. No, she doesn't want to think about it, but she can't pretend she didn't see what she saw. "Texts so explicit they belong on a porn site," she accuses, although realistically, she knows that is a jump. They were flirty texts at best. Or at least more flirty than outright lewd. But still.

"It didn't mean anything," Mark mumbles, looking shamefaced.

"It meant something to me. I burned my life to the ground for you and you still can't even -"

"No, Addison! You didn't, actually. Your life burned to the ground when you got caught. Other than the fact that I was there, it doesn't really have anything to do with me. It's not like you left Derek for me. You said you were going to, but then we got caught. Us being together is what happened by default, not because of something you decided to do."

It will always come back to this, won't it? Mark knows he should just take the admonishment from her, because really, he knows he was in the wrong the moment he asked Charlene, If I came over, what else would we do? but he can't help charging at Addison's comment. She always makes it out like he's the bad guy. So much so that Mark continues to experience a nagging worry that he is not her first choice. He is just the only choice Addison has left – the last choice – because her husband stopped choosing her a long time ago. Mark thinks of how many times he has dragged the strange concept of winning into his thoughts lately. Well. You're not really a winner when you're the only one actually in the game. When you're the only one in the ring.

"I screwed up. I screwed up, okay?" Mark says. "It won't happen again. I know it wasn't okay to say any of that stuff, and to not tell her 'no' straightaway. Last night I was just feeling like…look, it won't happen again. I promise you it won't. But now you're just…" Mark shakes his head, feeling a shiver of anger and upset pass through him. "Addison, come on. Please." His fingers curl around the smooth skin beneath her shoulder, like flower petals closing up. "She's my kid, too."

Addison takes a step back. Her arm jerks under his grasp. "Don't grab…don't grab my arms…" she bleats out, starting to cry. And her words about the night Derek caught them come back to Mark: he grabbed me by my arms, dragged me to my feet, and physically forced me outside.

"Oh, God," he murmurs, and immediately lets go. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to…I'm sorry, Red. I'm really sorry. I wasn't -"

"I-I know," Addison interrupts. She brings her hands up, covering her face with shaky palms. "That's not…that's not why I'm crying."

"Well, if it's not why, it certainly didn't help," Mark says softly. "Can I…" he takes a cautious step forward. "Is it okay if I give you a hug? A non-grabby hug?"

"Y-yeah." Addison feels heartbroken when she feels how tentatively, how carefully Mark circles his arms around her waist. "It's okay. I'm okay," she mumbles against his chest. He hugs her a little tighter in response. "It's just super embarrassing." She pulls back, blinking tearily, and she shakes her head when Mark tries to tell her that it is not embarrassing. "I sort of want to take a shower," she says, cutting him off mid-reassurance. "Maybe we can talk more later? There isn't a rush to make any decisions. Please try to remember that. We have time."

You don't have to say 'we.' I'm not the one who needs more time, Mark wants to tell her. Instead, he just nods, and gives Addison the space she wants, or needs, or both.

He retreats to the living room, and sits on the couch, feeling frozen in place once he's sunken into a cushion. You knew the risk, he thinks, when you texted Charlene back. But you did it anyway, and not because you wanted to, but because you could. And Addison was clearly already on the fence about having a baby – even though you were too stupid to see that – and texting Charlene didn't help. You finally have something good and you're already sabotaging it.

Mark waits a long time – long after the shower water has stopped running, and long after he has stopped hearing the whirring sound of Addison's hair dryer – before he comes into the bedroom. Addison is already in bed, clear-eyed and somber-looking, the comforter rumpled around her waist. Mark joins her under the comforter, and after pausing for a moment to gauge her reaction when he draws a hand towards her, he runs his fingers up and down her arm, feather-soft. "Of all the things I've had to be sorry about in the past year," he says, voice thick with emotion, "this one tops the list for me."

Addison lifts up on an elbow and shakes her head. "You didn't know," she replies. "And I didn't know either. I didn't realize how…strongly I was going to react when you…it's okay, Mark. Honestly. It's okay. It wasn't like you were aggressive or mean about it. You didn't hurt me, and you certainly weren't trying to hurt me. And I…I want you to know that I understand why you're upset. And I'm deeply sorry for that. I'm sorry for how hurtful this must feel, and for…for what probably feels like I'm stringing you along, even though that's not my intention. I'm sorry for that. But I'm not going to be sorry for the fact that I want to take my time to decide if this is something I'm ready for. I keep waiting for some sort of gut feeling, but it hasn't happened yet."

"My phone is still in the kitchen. I'll grab it right now and text Charlene. I'll tell her 'no,' and I'll tell her that I have a girlfriend – I won't say it's you, I know you're not ready for that. I'll tell her I'm seeing someone and I was wrong to…say the things I said. You know, engage in the conversation." Mark almost smiles after he says this, because he feels like if he did tell Charlene he couldn't flirt with her anymore, and turned around and did it a few days later, she would all-caps yell at him for it. That is just kind of who she is.

"Do it later," Addison says in a resigned tone. "Or just…just do what you want. I want you to text her and tell her all of that because you want to, not because I want you to. And I want you to mean it. And abide by it. You know…I have a few guy colleagues at work that I guess I could say I'm friends with – or at least friendly with – so I get it, if you and Charlene are going to remain friends. I actually really like Charlene. She's a great nurse, and she's funny and she's nice. But it's different because of your history – both your history with her and your history in general. And no, flirting with her – the things you guys said – isn't really cheating in my book, I guess, because it's not physical and it's not emotional, but it's still not okay, and it…it hurt my feelings." Addison settles back down on her pillow. Her lips move wordlessly for a few moments, and then she finally says, in a quieter voice, "Earlier, you said she…about the baby."

Mark sighs. "I know it's way too soon to know," he says, "but I just…I feel like it's a she. Well…a 'she' if you stay pregnant."

This is a low blow. And they both know it.

Addison draws in a wobbly gasp of air. "You're not being fair," she tells him. "You have to give me time. I only found out four days ago that I'm pregnant. I've always wanted to have a baby, and for me that sort of means there's inevitably a part of me that does want to maintain this particular pregnancy, but I'm just…like I said, it doesn't feel real yet and I'm just trying to reasonably think this through. And I'm waiting for, like, a lightning bolt of clarity to hit me. This is a life-altering thing, and I'm entitled to consider all my options. Especially if…" Addison's features rearrange into a scowl. "If things don't work out between us, if you do decide to screw Charlene halfway through a boxing match, or send each other Penthouse-worthy messages, or if something else happens in the future – I won't stay with you if you cheat on me – the majority of child-raising is going to fall on me. Because that's always how it is for women. It just is. And I don't know that I'm in a headspace where I can tackle being a single mom. Or tackle being a mom at all, at this moment in time. I also have concerns about…look, this might be something you want right now, Mark, but there are a lot of months ahead of us. Long months. There is no bigger responsibility than raising a child – especially a newborn – and it's hard for me to believe this is something you'll be prepared for, or even want in the end. And even without all that, I'm still not convinced this is the right time. I'm sorry this is hard for you – I really am – but I'm trying to figure out what's best for me. Even if things weren't complicated between us, we've still only been living together for six weeks. Everything is so new, and this is happening so fast. I need to be sure that when I do have a baby, I'm worthy of being that child's mother, that I earn that right, every single day. And right now I'm fragile. I'm trying to figure it out though. I'm trying to self-assess. And," Addison adds, as though reading his thoughts, as though issuing a warning, "I hope you don't opt to self-destruct while I try to work through all this in my head. Because I love you, Mark. And…I need you. I need you."

Mark manages a small nod before he rolls onto his other side, turning his back to her. He has no interest in offering Addison any comfort tonight, even though maybe tonight of all nights, he should. But he's in pain, too. It felt like everything had fallen into place for them, but now it occurs to him that maybe everything fell into place just so it could break apart. The universe can be cruel that way. And Mark sometimes finds ways to add to the cruelty.

Tonight's conversation does make him question whether he's ready to be a parent though. And Addison is clearly questioning his readiness on his behalf. Mark's experience with babies is essentially zero, and his experience with kids is limited, too. His general opinion is that kids are loud and messy and needy. He thinks of Derek's (and Addison's still, technically) nieces and nephews, when he has been around them at occasional Shepherd gatherings. There are so many of them that he can't keep track of who is who, but he's always aware of them, because of how damn present they make themselves. They want their cup of water, but no, not that cup. The other cup. They want you to cut up their food or draw them a horse or build a robot out of Legos, but no, not like that, you did it wrong. There is no reasoning with them. They always want someone to watch them. Watch them sing, watch them dance, watch them jump, watch them as they do terrible cartwheels. Every answer is followed by a Why? and they don't respect personal space and they reel away from food they don't like so dramatically that they are in danger of flipping their chairs backwards (and, God, the disgusting sounds they make when they eat). And there is so much screaming. There is always screaming.

Do you really want to raise a kid? Mark asks himself. You wouldn't even know how. Right now you're just…maybe you're just latching onto an idea or something. That seems to be what Addison is implying. That this will eventually lose its appeal.

He's never held a baby. He has no baseline, no understanding of what's typical developmentally for a baby and what isn't, what's concerning and what isn't. He's never changed a diaper. He doesn't know how to install a car seat or how the straps should be positioned. He's not sure how formula works in the event that that's how the baby will be fed (How often? What kind? How much? Do you heat it up first? How do you know if they're getting enough to eat?). He doesn't know what toys babies like or how you keep them entertained all day. He doesn't know anything about sleep environments…he thinks he remembers hearing bumper pads are now a no-go, but he isn't sure. He would be hopeless, if Addison left him alone with a baby for an extended period of time. And he suspects she has thought similar things about his lack of knowledge and experience. She wants a baby, but now Mark is realizing that she might not want one with him.

And he does get Addison's hesitancy, even though he did not do an adequate job of acknowledging it tonight. This is the most vulnerable and raw she has ever been. And even the blindingly selfish part of Mark, which he is usually able to tamp down at least a little bit where Addison is concerned, knows that he doesn't get to decide when she becomes a mother. Her pregnancy – the baby – might affect him, but ultimately what is happening is happening to her. And maybe that's not fair, because his opinion matters too, but he does understand.

It's upsetting though. And Mark doesn't do well in situations where there is hurt, or where hurt is inevitable. It's why he traded sultry messages with Charlene in the first place, isn't it? Why he didn't immediately say no? Mark does not know if this behavior qualifies as a habit, but it's just…who he is. It is ingrained in him. He felt Addison pulling back yesterday and Monday. So he pulled back a little too, in the way he always does, no matter who the woman is. It is that deep-rooted tendency in him, the inward-then-outward inclination to strike first. It is an arms-length punch to the jaw that automatically exposes him to a counterattack, but he would rather get hurt defending himself than be the one who gets hurt first. It is still vulnerability, but a different kind of vulnerability. It is a kind that Mark has usually been able to stomach, even though maybe he should not. His therapist has many things to say about this, he knows. Or probably would. He hasn't seen Olivia in almost four months.

"Are you still awake?" He hears Addison ask later, and he remains quiet. Mark feels like he is close to crying, and Christ, he can't remember the last time he cried. It's been years. Maybe at Jenny's funeral? Darkness surrounds them right now; they didn't turn on the galaxy light. Addison's voice quavers in the shadows when she adds, "If I terminate the pregnancy, would you still want to be with me? Would you still love me? Or would…would you hate me? Would you hate me for it?"

Mark pretends to be asleep. It is easier that way. But maybe it is harder, too.

. .

. .

"Did you hear about what happened to that girl in Rochester?" Jenny asks when Mark comes into the living room. He cannot see the TV from this angle, but he can hear a reporter's grave, put-upon voice, and deduces that it's the news, which is a far cry from the soap operas Jenny tends to watch and make fun of in between ordering dinner (or occasionally making it) and getting ready to go out with Everett for the night.

Mark shakes his head when his mother looks at him for a brief moment before her eyes flicker back to the TV. He has just gotten back from lunch with Shannon Eaker (an outer circle sort of friend of Lainey's, but Lainey doesn't need to know about lunch, and she definitely doesn't need to know that although the intent was to get lunch, that didn't end up being at all how Mark's afternoon with Shannon played out). And Mark is supposed to go over to the Shepherds' for dinner, so he just wants to stay in his room until then. The solitude is a sanctuary, because he still feels bad about his fight with Jenny yesterday.

"The man they're saying did it lived on her street," Jenny says before he can ask. "A neighbor. She was only a year younger than you. A baby, really. Just a baby. Someone's baby."

Mark hopes his mother does not say anything else. He hears the reporter say the word "tragedy," and he does not want to know more if he can help it. He still wants to be a surgeon, but sometimes he wonders how that is even possible if he cannot stomach things that are deemed tragic. Just turn it off, he wants to tell Jenny, which makes him feel like a shitty person. It is such a unique privilege that he can just choose to walk away from whatever bleeds-and-leads events are being discussed. But he can. And honestly, so can Jenny.

"If you're going in the kitchen, honey…would you mind making me another G&T?" Jenny asks, lifting a finger towards an empty highball glass on the end table that Mark did not notice until she pointed out. G&T. He thinks randomly of being in kindergarten, of going over the alphabet. There was some sort of animal song they would all sing. G is for giraffe. T is for tiger. Something like that.

"Sure." He has actually never made a drink for Jenny before. That was always the one line she never crossed with her alcoholism until now. And Mark has no idea how to make a Gin and Tonic, but the name is self-explanatory, and Jenny seems pretty far gone at this point, so if the gin and the tonic don't end up being the ideal ounces for each ingredient, she probably won't notice.

"It's pretty tough for a leopard to change its stripes," Jenny announces when Mark returns with her drink, and he almost smiles at this remark. Whenever he wants to hate her, he remembers how much he actually loves her. He hates her choices, he realizes. But he can't ever really hate her. It's hard to hate someone you've spent your whole life loving.

"I think you means 'spots,' Jenny. Or maybe pick an animal that actually does have stripes."

"You know…" Jenny looks up at him, and when Mark sees how teary her eyes are, he looks away, feeling uncomfortable. "I did…I did actually go nine days without having a drink. I really did, honey."

Mark nods, unsure what to say. He thinks of yesterday, how he yelled at her. How mocking, how cruel he was. Did I make you do this? he wonders. Did I make you want to start drinking again?

It occurs to Mark that day, that maybe there are spots and stripes plastered on him too, ones that he will ultimately not be able to change, even if he wants to.

. .
. .

References/Nods to Various Episodes

Grey's, 2x01.
Addison: "And now you have a girlfriend in Seattle. She seems sweet."
Derek: "The ice you're on? Thin."
Addison: "She's young. That whole wide-eyed, 'ooh he's-a-brain-surgeon thing' happening, but still sweet. Which was what you were going for, right? The anti-Addison?"

Grey's, 3x12. Addison to Callie: "[Mark] went out and he bought this insane Yankees onesie. And a calendar and marked the due date. Which I should mention…was today."

PP, three references: 1) Sam does have asthma (I remember it specifically from the first Grey's/PP crossover, but I'm sure it was mentioned before that on PP). 2) In PP 3x11, Mark tells Pete, who is holding baby Lucas, "You know, I don't think I've ever even held a baby. I mean, obviously, I held lots of kids during my peds rotation when I was a resident. But I don't…I don't…I don't think I've ever even held a baby." And 3) there is a slight nod to a PP season 6 deleted scene, when Addison tells Henry, "I don't know how I got so lucky, but I promise every day to earn the right to be your mother. Every day. I promise." (and then she gives Henry a cute little nose boop, which she also did in PP 6x02, and I have a lot of feelings about KW and her baby nose boops/nuzzles, okay)

Two random asides: 1) I adore babies and kids, but I stand by all of Mark's internal monologue. :) And, 2) Bumper pads are NOT safe. I about tore my hair out when I reread an old fic of mine and both bumper pads and an inclined/wedged sleeping device were mentioned. I also lose my shit on the regular when it comes to TV shows/movies and the sleep settings they have for babies. Addison's crib for Henry – and everything inside the crib, in PP episode 6x02, I think it was – this was actually one of the worst examples of What Not To Do that I have ever seen. And while I'm not going to get into exactly what I do for a career, I AM YOUR PERSON if you have any questions about what a safe sleep environment for an infant entails, so feel free to message me if you have questions. This is a very important topic to me.

Thank you for reading! I promise things will start to get a little more hopeful/less angst-drippy soon.