Atlas

by darlingwrecks

There is distance and there is silence. Whether or not this is what she wants though, this is, really, all she has left. Sometimes the kisses cover the guilt. Mark/Addison (and Derek), pre-Grey's. Includes flashbacks to Addison's (kinda bleak, if you watched Private Practice) childhood, Mark's childhood, and works off the fact that the "he was just here" comment was not accurate.

36. Lights, Pave the Way

A/N: Hello! Title is a lyric from the song "Chasing Stars" by Fleurie. As usual, rereading older chapters is not necessary, but FYI, relevant chapters pertaining to the flashbacks are chapters 8 and 17 (Mark dealing with his mother's death), and also 6 (Addison getting slapped in the face by Bizzy and then sitting with Mark afterwards…good times).

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Chapter 36. Lights, Pave the Way

"Hey." Mark glances up from his laptop when Addison comes into his apartment after offering four swift-knuckled knocks and then unlocking his front door. His greeting is nearly chased by a sigh. He is exhausted from not sleeping well and being knee-deep in what he can only describe as "funeral stuff," but he manages to give his best friend's wife a smile. "Gettin' real liberal with the use of that key," he teases. Truthfully, Mark cannot remember why he gave Derek and Addison a key in the first place. He does not go out of town that often, and even if he did, there are no plants to water and no pets to care for. He is sort of glad Addison used the key though; the idea of having to get out of his seat just does not seem possible. His limbs feel resistant to movement right now, as though grief has immobilized him.

"I thought I'd stop by again," Addison ventures. Mark can tell from her appearance that she has come straight from work. She is still in scrubs, and her hair, which is usually very neat, is pulled back in a finger-combed ponytail with wisps hanging out that indicates she was probably going from one OR to the next all day. "No McDonald's though," she adds in reference to her husband's odd-but-thoughtful decision to bring fast food over to Mark around lunchtime. "Just me and my sparkling personality. How are you doing?" She takes a seat next to him at the kitchen table. "Derek said you're planning to head to Syracuse tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Mark sighs. "You know how if you look at certain words or say a certain word enough it starts to just look or sound wrong? Coffin. Coffin. Coffin. Same with casket. I don't even know what makes the two of them different. And I don't...Jenny would probably want to be cremated, anyway. I haven't asked my dad if she had any…wishes about that. She would probably want her ashes scattered over a lake or a field though. After, like, a pharming party. The funeral home people left me another message. I need to decide what to do; they can't keep her in the fridge forever. And I need to call my dad back." Mark looks down at his phone, at the voicemail notifications looming on the lock screen, and feels a wave of guilt coat over him. "I think Everett wants me to take the lead on planning some sort of service and making arrangements, but I…I can't do this. And he's a mess right now. So I pulled up the site for the funeral home." Mark points to his laptop, and then angles the device towards Addison so she can see as well. "It's not that helpful though. It's 'we offer a variety of caskets' and 'a variety of urns' and 'a variety of floral selections.' Maybe it's too gauche to show the actual items or something. But that's not what...I don't know how to plan this. Or what to ask, or what else I should be doing, or just…anything." Mark looks away from the screen when his eyes fill with tears. Again. So much of navigating grief and loss just feels uncomfortable, to be this visibly distraught. "I really need to call my dad though, but I'm not sure how I'm going to get through that call. And all the other stuff…I don't even know where to start."

"Okay," Addison replies calmly. "Well, I do. I'll call the funeral home, and I'll see when they have openings for you and your dad to meet with them, tour their grounds, and learn a bit more about what services they offer. What if I do that, and then I call your dad and see if one of the available times works for him, too? I'll just say I'm a friend and you were pulled into a last-minute surgery or something. It'll be fine. You do have to talk to him tomorrow, obviously, but I can handle this piece in the meantime. And I'll start making a list of things we need to do."

"Okay." Mark wonders if maybe he should push back – Addison said it so casually, but this is still a lot to take on. However, there was a conclusiveness to her tone, and he knows better than to argue. He will not win. And really, he could use the help. "Jenny liked colors," he says instead, angling his face further away from Addison's gaze when a tear drips down his cheek. "I looked up 'funeral flowers' and they all looked so stupid and…non-colorful."

"We'll find colorful ones then. I'll research some flower shops in the area." Addison pulls the laptop closer. "Are you hungry at all? I can make you something, or order something, if you want."

"I'm okay." The desire to close his eyes strengthens. "I might just...I might just put my head down for a few minutes, if you don't mind." Mark bends forward and rests a cheek against the cool surface of his kitchen table.

"That's fine. I'll just be right here."

. .
. .

"How did you find me?" Addison asks quietly. Footsteps that echoed in the otherwise empty hospital corridor prompted her to lift her head, and then Mark came into view from around a corner. It feels like a mixture of love and relief and nerves to see him approach the unused hospital bed she is currently sitting on.

"Process of elimination, mostly," he says. "I checked the usual spots, and didn't see you, but Chief Patel said she saw you head towards the south wing, so I thought maybe this is where you'd be, just hanging out on one of the spare beds against the wall, trying to take a breather. I know it's quiet over here."

Addison nods. That is exactly why she came here after her talk with Charlene. "This is where we sat that one time after I spoke with Susan and Bizzy." She tilts her chin to the left, indicating a few patient rooms on the opposite side of them.

"I know."

It was four years ago, but Addison can remember it like it was yesterday. Her cheek stung with heat from the slap her mother delivered after she told her that she could not save Susan. Addison was struggling not to cry when Mark ran into her, and when she told him that little (or not-so-little) detail about Bizzy and Susan holding hands, and how Bizzy had never held her hand, he kindly placed his hand on top of hers and held it while they waited for Derek. When Addison eventually got a text from her husband saying that he was done with surgery and on his way, she pulled away from Mark, and together they walked towards the double doors at the end of the hall to meet Derek. There was nothing wrong about sitting close to one another and holding hands – it was perfectly innocent, and an understandable action in a time of distress – but in retrospect, there is a part of Addison that wonders if she chose to meet Derek in not this specific place because that time with Mark felt like it was just theirs. Like it belonged only to them, and she did not want Derek encroaching on that space, on that moment.

Mark lifts himself onto the edge of the bed, and scoots next to her. "I noticed you're on the board for eleven-thirty," he says, "so I know we don't have long, but I just…I wanted to talk to you for a second. There's something I want to tell you."

"I saw the text you sent Charlene. She showed me."

"She showed you?" Mark's cheeks redden. He instantly looks worried as he tries to figure out Addison's potential reaction. "I…I didn't say it was you."

"She put two and two together. She's not stupid, Mark."

"I guess not," he admits. "I am though, sometimes."

Addison grins feebly. "Me too, sometimes." Mark folds his hand around one of hers.

"I'll let go if I hear someone coming," he murmurs, even though she has not protested or attempted to undo their now-tangled fingers. Instead, Addison studies him, waiting for him to say more. "I just want to tell you one thing before you get back into the OR and I head back to the practice: yes. The answer is yes. I'll still love you if you decide you don't want a baby, if now isn't the right time. I'll be sad, and I'll be disappointed, yeah, but that's my shit to work through, not yours. I know you need to do what's best for you. So whatever decision you make – make it for yourself, not for me. Don't let what I want get in the way of what you want. And if you don't want to have a baby right now, I won't hate you for that. I could never hate you. Because I love you, Red. God, I love you more than anything. So whatever you want to do, whatever you need…I'm with you. I'm with you, okay? And I'll make a million more embarrassing, well-meaning speeches if that's what it takes for you to believe me. I want a baby with you. This baby. But I want you more, Addison. I want to make this work and I want to work on myself so I can be the kind of guy you deserve. I'm working on that…I swear I am. I'm seeing Olivia first thing Monday. She's my therapist." He watches as Addison raises her eyebrows in surprise. "I've seen her on and off – mostly off – for a few years. I haven't had an appointment since March, but I'm going to start going again. Regularly. I know I need to."

"I guess I need to take back my shrink comment from yesterday. It's good that you have someone like that." Addison gives him a small smile. "She's like…the other woman in your life."

Mark chuckles. "Well, first of all, don't be ridiculous. You know that Lynette is the other woman in my life."

"True." Addison laughs back. "It's nice that you go though," she continues. "I should…I should probably start seeing someone as well. Maybe Olivia can recommend someone else in her office. At least that way she and whoever I see can talk shit about the world-class surgeon who knocked up the other world-class surgeon," Addison says with a wry grin, and then she sobers again. "I tried therapy once, in college," she admits, "but I didn't stick with it. I think I was just too scared to really get into…all of that."

"Sticking with it is the hard part. Addie, look…I screw up in, well, a lot of ways, but in two ways for sure: when I sense that I might get hurt, and sometimes when things get more real, when the stakes are raised. And I think…I think you're kind of the same. It's one of the many ways in which we're oil and water, but also pickles and sandwiches, because I really do think we're good together when we try. So, that's all I wanted to say for right now; I know you need to get back to work. I think we should talk more tonight though. Well, you should talk, and I'll just listen. And if you don't really feel up for talking yet, then we'll just hang out. And I'll wait for you, if you decide to go to Seattle for the surgery. But in the meantime, just know that it's a 'yes.'" Mark pats the top of her hand with his free one. "I love you, and there isn't anything conditional about the way I feel about you. I'm not going anywhere. Even if we don't work out as a couple – and I want us to work and I feel like we can make it work, but I'm just saying – I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here for you, okay?"

Addison is struck by the word conditional. She has thought it so many times before, how conditional Derek's love has often felt, especially in the last few years. It felt like nonstop directives. They were barely spoken aloud, or even acknowledged, but they lingered there anyway. Be this way. Act this way. Do this. Don't do this. Stop being so this-or-that. Never in a forceful, or-else kind of way, but it was still there, like a mountain that needed to be scaled, but there was never any clear indication of where the peak was, or what would happen if Addison finally reached it. Mark's love has always been more simple than that, more straightforward, and it occurs to her that that's how love should be. Love shouldn't hurt. Love shouldn't ever make her feel less than.

She has always gotten to be herself with Mark. She feels like herself with him.

And now she realizes Mark is waiting for her to say something.

"Thank you." Addison works hard to push the two words out, and nearly chokes on them anyway. Emotion feels like a stone lodged in her throat. "I didn't…" her voice is quiet, nearly breathless. "I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that," she admits, close to crying now.

Mark nods. He can see the emotions behind her reaction, but he doesn't crowd her right now, doesn't press. "I should have told you sooner," he says. "I just sort of…needed someone to knock a little sense into me first. Redirect me back on the right path. And I'm gonna do everything I can to stay on that path."

"You know, it's weird that there's someone out there who doesn't really know me that well, and definitely doesn't like me, but is still…still rooting for the two of us."

"Lynette likes you. She's just…sort of protective of me. And while she is rooting for us, I think in this case…" Mark pauses. It is not his place to say anything more. "Well. I think she knows what it's like to find yourself pregnant when you weren't expecting to be, and when it might not be the best time in your life. Anyway." He pulls his hand away, and Addison instantly misses the feeling of it clutching hers. "I'll see you at home, Red. Text me when you're on your way."

Once Mark is gone, Addison cups her hands in front of her. She trails them down the valley of her stomach, and somewhere deep inside her, she feels a bloom of hope.

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Mark moves through a series of dreams, sort of like clicking through a slideshow of memories of Jenny. Somewhere in the background, he can hear a voice. Soothing, but husky and rich, whereas his mother's voice was always soft like cashmere, almost musical in the ups and downs of its delivery.

He is young in most of the dream-memories, hovering in that beautiful but somehow broken period of time where he was mostly oblivious to his mother's flaws, or at least was not old enough to recognize that most parents did not parent like his own parents chose to. He is curled in Jenny's lap while she reads Harold and the Purple Crayon to him. He is swimming in the community pool with her. They are eating breakfast, and Jenny is cutting his French toast into bite-sized triangles. He is flinging a hand out from behind his back to reveal a bunch of dandelions, hand-picked for her. He is probably no more than four years of age in the last one.

I really like the spray that has sunflowers in it. It's the fourth one down, on the left.

Mark remembers asking Jenny once if sunflowers were just "grownup dandelions," and oh, how she had laughed.

Yes, they're beautiful. Are you able to do the same sort of arrangement in baskets, too? I was thinking it would be nice to have a few of those lining the aisles.

Consciousness starts to shove back against the weight of Mark's dreams. The voice that has somehow sunken into his sleep is becoming louder now. Alertness and languor repel against one another, and Mark finds himself grasping for a line he remembers from a song. Our memories are films about ghosts. Something like that.

Oh, great. That would be perfect. I appreciate all your help. I'll call back – or my friend will – once we've decided on a date for the service. Thank you for your time.

Mark sucks in a sleepy breath. He lets a few more minutes pass, eyes still closed, and then he hears a polite, throat-clearing noise followed by, "Hi, is this Everett I'm speaking with?"

He opens his eyes, but cannot quite lift his head yet. Call it fatigue and grief-laced sleep inertia. Or maybe his kitchen table really is that comfortable to rest his cheek against. He catches snippets of Addison's exchange with his father though as he tries to wake up a bit more.

I'm a good friend of Mark's…he was just about to call when he got pulled into emergency surgery…able to figure out a time to go to the funeral home…yes, he's doing okay…

Mark can hear the soft murmur of his dad's voice piping through the phone. He pulls in another deep breath, and then forces himself to sit upright.

"Am I his…?" Addison briefly presses her fingertips to her mouth, as though hiding a smile Everett cannot see. "Oh, no. I'm not. No, we're just good friends, and we work together. I've known him a long time though. I'm actually married to Derek Shepherd. You know, Mark's best friend." She glances over when she hears Mark shift in his chair, and her smile stretches when they make eye contact. She wiggles her fingers in his direction in greeting. "Yes, yes he is. Yes, we'll be there too. And Mark is going to drive up to Syracuse tomorrow morning. Yes. He'll call when he's on his way. And then you'll be able to go to the funeral home and they'll help you figure out how to best celebrate and honor Jenny's life. Yes, that's right, it's at three…yes, of course. It was really nice to talk to you, too, Everett. I hope...I hope you're able to get a little rest tonight. Okay. You too. Bye." Addison brings Mark's phone away from her ear and ends the call. "Hi there," she says to Mark. "You were out for about two hours."

"You must be pretty wiped out, too. I'm sure you had a long day."

"I'm fine," Addison insists. "And I'm done for now. So you'll need to leave tomorrow morning, because you're going to meet with the funeral director at three. Everett will go with you. I jotted down the package I think you'll want – after talking with Gretchen, the director – but obviously that's up to you guys. Gretchen can help you though to determine how best to honor your mom and what that would look like. And I made a list of follow-up stuff. Here." Addison slides a piece of paper in his direction. "The things near the top are the ones you'll need to follow up on, and then I put a star next to things I can help with. I can do most of the stuff from here. I also called Susan – Bizzy's secretary – because she just sort of…well, knows about planning stuff, I guess. And resources. She gave me the number for someone she knows – Roger – who can help with the notification stuff. You know, credit agencies, cancelling Jenny's driver's license, insurance policies…things like that. His number is right here." She taps a fingernail against the paper. "And he's available to talk whenever you or Everett want to call."

"Addison…" Mark murmurs while staring at the list. The amount of stuff she seemed to get done while he was asleep is incredible. "I don't know how to thank you for all this…"

"This is what friends do," she tells him. "I know you would help me, if the situation were reversed."

Mark grins weakly. "I think we already established I'm hopeless with funeral preparation stuff."

"True," she agrees, "but you'd find other ways to support me. Oh, but let me show you some flowers really quick and then I'll get out of here. I emailed you a link to their website along with my suggestions, but just…" she angles the laptop back to him. "The shop isn't far from the funeral home, and I like their selections a lot better than the ones at the place Gretchen says she works with. Mark?" She touches his elbow, and he startles, his elbow buckling on the table. "You're falling asleep. C'mon."

Addison stands up first, and he copies her, body still feeling heavy and uncoordinated from tiredness. As she guides him down the hallway to his bedroom though with a hand still on his arm, Mark cannot resist sharing a cheeky comment.

"Are we finally doing this, Red?"

Addison laughs. "Shut up."

She walks him into his room, and helps him get under the covers. It is not necessary, but he does not really feel like he has the strength to tell her he can take it from here. At least he is already in sweats and a comfy shirt. Addison sits down the bed, hips angled towards him as he settles his head against his pillow.

"Love you, Mark." Her voice feels far away. His eyes slide shut again.

"Love you too, Red," he mumbles.

Mark falls back to sleep right away, but Addison hovers for a moment, staring at him. It was a lie earlier; she is wiped out. It was a really long day. She can tell Mark is even more wiped out though. He has not (understandably) been sleeping well, and although that is evident on his face, in the shadows under his eyes, she cannot help but notice how handsome he is. Yes, Addison has always been aware of that detail (she has eyes and a pulse, after all), but maybe it is a bit more obvious when she has the chance to stare at him so unreservedly. Her heart is in pieces over Mark's current situation, but the vulnerability he has shown in the past few days somehow makes him even more attractive. And even without the extra vulnerability, he is honest and straightforward in a way most people are not, including every man she has ever been with. Those are good traits. She is hit with a strong desire to get in bed with him, to tug his muscular arm over her waist and press her body against the length of his. Mark is taller than her – she and Derek are the same height – so there is also a part of Addison, no matter how weird it might sound, that is curious about what it would be like to lie next to someone who has a few inches on her. It wouldn't have to be sexual (although, that part would probably be great too, even though she definitely shouldn't be thinking about that). Just cuddling with Mark sounds amazing. And so does sleep.

Wow, this might be a new low for sleep deprivation. You need to go home and get some rest, Addison thinks. After you tear your husband's clothes off and climb on top of him, apparently.

It is just borderline-loopy curiosity, a side effect of complete and utter fatigue after a long day at the hospital and then trying to support someone who is in the thick of grief, Addison is convinced. But she chastely kisses Mark on the cheek anyway before she leaves.

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. .

"You look exhausted." Mark realizes this a stupid thing to say to a woman – any woman, but especially the woman he loves. It is especially stupid to say it the moment said woman gets home from work and barely has her foot in the door, but there is just no getting around the fact that when he observes Addison step into the kitchen, she looks exhausted.

Addison arches an eyebrow, and to her credit (and patience with him), she looks mildly amused by this remark. "You're wrong. I look amazing," she says. She sets her bag down, and comes to sit beside him at the table. Mark slides a medical journal away, clearing the space in front of her.

"You do look amazing," he agrees. "Exhaustion aside." Mark cannot imagine he looks much better, anyway; it has been a tough few days for the two of them, and today was a long day in particular, given their emotionally-charged morning. And for Mark personally, Lynette's decision to clear his morning schedule – while appreciated – resulted in him leaving work later than usual. Sleep sounds pretty appealing right now. "Do you want me to make you something to eat? Or we can do takeout if you want?"

Addison shakes her head. "I'm okay for right now. I am exhausted though…and I'm going to pass out on the bed face first as soon as we're done talking." Addison reaches for the hand of Mark's that is resting on the table, and slides hers over it, cupping her fingers around his. "I'm still…" she pauses and breathes in deeply for composure. "I'm still in if you're in. For the baby." Addison watches his reaction. His smile is slow and tentative following these words, but then it lengthens and his cheeks crease up when she nods, confirming the realness of her words. Her gaze briefly darts over his shoulder to where the Yankees onesie is. Mark folded it up and moved it after their argument. It is now tucked back against a corner wall, behind a stoneware wine chiller. Not entirely out of sight, but also not visible without a little bit of effort, either. Neither of them had been sure what to do with it, so pushing it back, pushing it away for now, felt like the only solution. It occurs to Addison how well that decision describes the majority of their relationship. "I'm taking a chance on a future feeling," she continues. "I'm still really nervous and scared, but since we had that preliminary talk, every once in a while, I've been hit with a flutter of anticipation. Good anticipation. I'm going to keep the baby – and we're going to do this – but I'm not there yet in terms of excitement. Or excitement more than anything else, at least. So right now all I can do is bank on a future feeling."

"A future feeling?"

Addison nods again. "It will happen," she tells him. "Just maybe not for a few more days, or maybe a little longer than that. I'm not trying to sound confusing or make it seem like it won't happen, because it will, but the fact that I'm pregnant is still not all-the-way real yet. But it's just…I didn't want to hold your hand and then all of a sudden I did. I didn't want to kiss you and then all of a sudden I did. I didn't want to fall in love with you – deeply, irrevocably in love with you – and then all of a sudden I did. I didn't want to leave my husband for you and then all of a sudden I did." She holds the palm of her free hand up as a stop signal, even though Mark has not opened his mouth to object. "I know that's not how the husband thing played out. I'll never know how it would have played out if Derek hadn't caught us, but I really did think about leaving him. I really did." She inhales deeply again. "I know you're what's left in the wreckage. I know you're all that's left. And maybe that makes you my last choice, but I also think of 'last' in a different sense. In the other sense. Like…final, concluding." She squeezes his hand a little tighter. "I never used to…I was married for a long time. And Derek was my first choice, for a long time. But you're…you're my most important choice. I love you, and you're my 'now' choice. And for all those 'all of a sudden' examples I mentioned, it's just like…something happened one day in each of those situations, and I believe…I believe the pregnancy will be the same. So that's what I mean by a future feeling. We don't get unlimited chances to have the things we want in life. I know this for sure. And I want you, and I want a baby. It just…it might look a little different for me during the beginning of the pregnancy. My enthusiasm level isn't going to reach yours just yet. But it will. Just not right this second."

"Okay," he murmurs. "Okay, Red." It is not the most detailed response, but Mark cannot think of what else to say just yet. And he is also really trying just to listen.

"And I made a call to Nicole Herman this afternoon. She works at Cleveland Clinic. She said she'd do the procedure for Richard's patient with TTTS, so I connected the two of them. I handled a complicated case for her once and now I'm cashing in on the 'I owe you one' thing."

"You're…not going to Seattle?"

"No." Addison shakes her head. "I'm not going. I want to stay here with you. I don't think going there is going to serve any purpose outside of operating on a patient, and Nicole can handle that. And I'm going to meet with Harper on Monday. I'm going to file. It all seems so cold and robotic, so maybe…maybe there's a nice way to have him served with divorce papers? I'm not really sure…I know I can't expect much, given how he found us, and the problem with 'hey, check your email' is that he probably doesn't want to check any emails from me…so I probably need to do this through a third party. But I'm hoping divorce proceedings can at least be civil and that maybe one day he'll forgive us…or at least not hate us with every fiber of his being. I still have my rings." Her words speed up a little. "I'm not quite sure what to do with them, and I can't bring myself to get rid of them yet. Or get rid of the wedding dress and household items we bought together and pictures and paintings and just…anything of significance that ties my life to his. And I can't think about the real estate stuff yet, either. He can have the properties if he wants – I don't have it in me to fight him for them – but just…there's a whole life inside the brownstone and the Hamptons house. A life with Derek. So…" she shrugs, uncertain.

"Do you still love him?" Mark does not ask it meanly, accusatorily. Just curiously.

"Yes," she admits. "I love him and I think there is a tiny part of me – a part I assume will fade with time – that's still a little bit in love with him, despite everything. And I will always care about him. But I love you and I'm in love with you, too. Because more than one thing can be true. Two things can be true. And the love I have for you…I can't ever imagine that fading. Even when I do stupid things, even when you do stupid things…I just…you're it for me. I'm in this. I'm not going to run to Derek and I'm not looking for anyone else and I'm going to have a baby with you. I love you more than I ever loved Derek. The way you feel for me, and the way I feel for you…it's more, and it sort of completes me."

"That was dangerously close to a movie quote at the end there, Red," he says, holding back a chuckle.

"I know." She ducks her head as she blushes. "But it's true. I'm more 'me' with you than I've ever known myself to be with anyone else." She looks up at him again, blue-green eyes a sea of vulnerability. "Maybe we'll always have to work a little harder than the average couple to make this work, especially when it comes to us trusting one another – but I'm willing to work at it if you are. When I'm with you and things are going well, I just…I feel light. I feel free. It was most like that in the Hamptons – when it was just us – but as I go ahead with the divorce and we stay committed to each other, maybe that lightness won't feel as limited to a particular location. It'll spread. And that lightness, that freedom, and that thing about love not being conditional that you mentioned when we talked this morning…I never had that with Derek, not even on our best days. He's a good man, but there was an element to his love that always felt conditional. But I still…I know what I'm asking of you, Mark…to be committed to me and this relationship while I'm still grieving the end of my marriage and the 'getting over your soon-to-be ex-husband' thing doesn't come with a statute of limitations. And when I'm still feeling more anxious than I am excited about the baby. But right now…this is all I can give."

There is the Jenny-ness of it again. But Mark's mother tried because she loved him. And Mark knows Addison is trying, too. And sometimes, trying is enough. "I'll take whatever you're willing to give," he answers honestly. "And I know you're worried about me not being ready to be a dad, but I can get ready. Whatever I need to do or you want me to do to show you I'm ready, I will. I just…I need you to have, just like, a shred of confidence in me. I know I have a lot to learn, but I really feel like I can do this. We'll be a family, Red. But I know…I'll try to limit the pregnancy talk for the time being, if that's what you'd prefer. It's real and it's happening, but I know you're still trying to adjust."

"Right." Addison nods nervously. "The boy or girl thing…I haven't moved beyond a cluster of cells yet. Gender…potential names…converting your spare bedroom into a room for the baby…I'm not there yet. I know that probably sounds flaky and mean, but it's just…it's where I'm at. I'm taking care of myself like a pregnant woman should and I'll call my OB/GYN's office and make an appointment for the week of the nineteenth, and we'll go together, but the readiness thing…like I said, I'm not all the way there yet."

"But you'll get there?"

She nods earnestly. "I'll get there. I want a baby."

"It's the wanting it with me part you're not sure about."

"It's not that." She shakes her head. "It's just, when you're a young thing and getting married and you have a fairytale wedding, this is never where you think you'll end up. I'm – like you said – adjusting. It's new and it's scary. I know you'll love our kid as much as you love me. It's more…the day-to-day stuff. I don't ever want to feel like I'm a solo parent in a two-parent household."

"Well, I'm glad it's not entirely me," Mark says, working to keep any irreverence out of his tone. "I swear though, I'll read every damn parenting book before the baby comes, and I'll put together the furniture for the baby's room and just…I'll be here. I'll be here with you, okay? And I know all the baby-caring stuff will come more naturally to you, but I swear I'm going to try my hardest."

"You're good at everything. It's kind of annoying." Addison scrunches her nose. "So if you feel like this is something you want to do and you're willing to learn more about raising a child and want to be involved and be there for us both, then I guess I don't really have any reason to doubt you. The being faithful piece is also what I'm concerned about. Especially because I don't know what this pregnancy has in store for me, and after he or she is born, sex is going to be off the table for weeks. And your history of fooling around…worries me. I know I've cheated too and technically I'm still cheating since I'm married at least in name, but this is why I have…concerns. You've never done this before, not really."

Mark sighs. "I was with Peyton for eight months," he responds. "And it was serious. Like, we told each other we loved each other and everything. I was even thinking about asking her to move in with me, since she was pretty much staying at my place all the time anyway. But then she went to Colorado for a few days. Her dad wasn't doing well and she wanted to be with him, and she talked to me beforehand and said she was thinking about moving there; and there was no way I was following her. I loved her – not like I love you, but I still loved her – and I was upset. So I went out one night and slept with someone, because I knew Peyton was going to leave, and I wanted to leave first. I did it just because I could. That's what usually happens. I hurt others before I can get hurt. I don't want to hurt you though. It's different with you. And I want it to only be you. I've never…I've never felt like this with anyone else before. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. I didn't think I could love someone this much. And I know that I'm flawed and I'm a wreck, but you – this isn't about getting to one-up my best friend. I know I'm not perfect, but I…I don't want this to end, Red. Ever. I want to be with you."

"The baby thing…it won't be easy. And you said it earlier, but it bears repeating: you'll be here. I'll go back to work at some point after I take my maternity leave; I still want to be a surgeon because I love it and I'm good at it, and I hope that by seeing me in scrubs, our kid knows he or she can do anything. But whether I'm on the job or not…you'll be involved. You'll change diapers, come to well-baby appointments, wake up with me for feedings, install the car seat, sterilize bottles, help me select a nanny, and help me do a hundred other things to keep our kid alive and entertained and happy and healthy. And if I need to leave the baby with you for a few hours, you'll handle it, without complaint." Addison grimaces. "It all sounds really appealing, doesn't it? Especially when I'm being grumpy and bossy about it."

Mark grins. "I like the bossing," he assures. "Boss more. And I know. I know I have a lot to learn, but the thing is that I want to learn. I wasn't sure I ever wanted to be a dad…but I want to be a dad if you're the mom. And I'm going to love our inevitably very stubborn, know-it-all kid." He pauses for a moment. "You remember when Maya was born? I -"

"I delivered her," Addison interrupts with a smirk. "I do indeed remember."

"Right. Well, afterwards when we went into the room, Naomi asked who wanted to hold her first, and before I could answer, Derek made a crack about how I'd never held a baby and didn't want to start now. So I didn't hold her, and I…I actually wanted to, even though the idea of holding someone so tiny scared the hell out of me. And I shouldn't have…I shouldn't have let that stop me, of course. I could have still asked for a turn; that part is on me. I'm just saying that…I've never held a baby before. And I'd like to. Especially a newborn. Preferably before our baby comes, so that I can get some practice in."

"Okay then." Addison smiles softly. "We'll fix that soon then. We'll find a newborn at the hospital for you to hold. And then we'll work our way up to other babies. If I assure Savvy you know what you're doing, she'd let you hold Phoebe. But just so you know, Charlene will probably be on the postpartum floor a lot. And in the NICU. And I know you sent her that really nice, really embarrassing-for-you text, but -"

"I don't love Charlene. I love you."

"I know, but love doesn't have anything to do with it. Sex isn't always love for you; it's a warm body so you don't have to sleep alone, and something to keep your mind busy so that you don't have to think about everything else. I mean, realistically…it did cross your mind to go over to her place, right? For you, sex briefly pushes away the feelings of loneliness and insecurity."

"Yeah. I get what you're saying."

"You've always wanted a family, and now you'll have one. Well. Even if there wasn't a baby, we're already a family…a baby isn't required to make a family or make us whole. I want to be a family with you. The relationship piece is important too though. The trust and emotional component, I mean." Addison bites her lip. "It's me and only me, like we agreed, but because I'm pregnant and we plan for this to be a long-term thing, you're going to have to adjust your sexual expectations…I know, I know." She offers him a faint smile when he tries to interject. "It's not just about sex. Still though. You're probably about to find out how just not about sex it is. Ever since Tuesday morning my nausea has been relentless."

"I'll survive. And there won't be anyone else."

"Thank you." Her grip on his hand loosens. "I know this was a lot, so I appreciate you listening and that we were able to talk about this. And hopefully it didn't feel like me just attacking you from every angle over and over again. I know I'm not perfect and there are a lot of things I need to work on, too. Is there…is there anything you want from me? I know that there are things I could do to be a better person, and probably a better girlfriend. And I know I've issued you a set of demands, so…"

It is a surprisingly easy question for him to answer. "Just let me love you. And…and don't hold it in. Any of it," Mark tells her. "Even if it's about your marriage and pending divorce – you can talk to me about it. I know I'm stupid about a lot of things, but I'm smart enough to understand that this is a deeply painful time for you and that you're losing a guy you've been with for most of your twenties and almost all of your thirties…I know the history is always going to be there. And I know it's not the quite the same thing, but I miss him too. So, talk. You have to talk to me when you're upset. I can tell when you're upset. You're either freakishly quiet but stare a lot or you become passive-aggressive…and the absence of words makes me doubt myself, and that's typically when I default to making stupid decisions. And I'm not going to cheat on you – I'm not – but when you're not telling me what you're feeling, it's like the equivalent of setting a shot of vodka a foot away from an alcoholic. We can't let things fester."

Addison nods. "I…I can do that. And I'm sure there's a lot more than just being honest about my feelings that I can work on, but if…if there's nothing else right now, I'd really like a hug. I'm probably going to need a lot of hugs, actually."

They get to their feet, and Mark tugs her against him and folds his arms around her waist. "You want to go sit down, maybe?" He asks, lips close to her ear. "Or lie down? I know you want to sleep." She nods into his chest, and whispers lie down.

Once they have rushed through changing into comfier clothes and washing up, Mark slides into bed first. He holds his arms out for Addison. She climbs in next to him, fitting her body against his and resting her head on his chest. His arms mold around her, one positioned on her hip, and the other stroking her hair, providing comfort. She sighs sleepily. He knows that she is still really nervous and anxious, but he does not think anything Addison is thinking or feeling tonight will keep her awake for much longer. She is already heavier in his embrace, and he can hear the subtle shift in her breathing. But then she surprises him by starting to giggle.

Mark pokes at her shoulder. "What?"

"Earlier you said…when things are going well between us…we're like pickles and sandwiches," she says, and Mark starts to laugh, too. It is a trigger for both of them. Each time one starts to quiet, and the other laughs, the quiet one starts up again. "You know…" she adds when they are able to finally, finally settle down. "We're going to have to work really hard to make this work, and to be good parents. With our weird childhoods, with our history, with how fast everything happened between us…it won't be easy, a lot of the time. It won't be perfect, either. Not with how we started. Not with…not really with wherever we end up, I guess."

"Well." Mark kisses the top of her head. "Wherever we end up…I just want it to be together."

"That's what I want too," Addison whispers. It is another bloom of hope from deep within her. And it feels really, really good to get to say what it is she wants, honestly. It feels freeing.

. .
. .

---

References/Nods to Various Episodes

Grey's 3x05.
Lawyer: "Derek says that neither of you brought any assets into the marriage."
Addison: "Well, I had my trust fund. And a sparkling personality."

The flawed/wreck/game quote…you know what I'm talking about, I'm not gonna copy/paste again.

Sandwiches and pickles was a nod to Grey's 3x08.
Addison, observing Alex and Izzie bringing Mark his lunch: "Mark…what are you doing?"
Mark: "Lunch. Want my pickle?" AND THE LOOK OF FRUSTRATION ON ADDISON'S FACE BECAUSE THIS MAN IS SUCH AN IMMATURE IDIOT BUT YES, SHE ABSOLUTELY WOULD LIKE SOME MORE OF *THAT* PICKLE (also, one of my greatest running fic gags was having the in-utero nickname for Mark and Addison's kid be "Pickle" in MTGOF).

Nicole Herman was the head of fetal surgery for a period of time at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital (aka Seattle Grace). I don't know what Dr. Herman was up to before she came to Seattle (it seems like maybe they just straight up did not fill Addison's position for years), but there was an exchange between Amelia and Nicole that made it clear that Addison and Nicole knew each other (professionally, mostly).

Grey's 3x09. Mark to Addison: "I love the bossing. Boss more."

Grey's 3x25. Addison to Alex (minus the bits of dialogue about Ava, because no): "We do not get unlimited chances to have the things we want. And this I know...nothing is worse than missing an opportunity that could've changed your life." Sigh. This was shortly after Addison found out about her fertility complications, so you know she was thinking a lot about her own life experiences leading up to getting tested, and what could have been.

Random non-TV thing: the line Mark was thinking of was, "If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts." It's from a Counting Crows song ("Mrs. Potter's Lullaby").

Thanks for reading! And for your patience. I've got some "life stuff" going on that will make updates a little slower, and I'm also trying to plot out the rest of this fic in my head. I have so, so many scenes written, but I need to figure out how to tie them all together. I had originally thought about ending this fic shortly after they decide to keep the baby, and then leaving the rest – the will-they-won't-they make it work – up to the reader, but that didn't feel right to me (I'm a sucker for tooth-rotting fluff and happy endings, a lot of the time) and I felt like a sequel might take something away from the original, so. I want this fic to stand alone. I never intended for it to be this LONG (I for real thought it was going to be like 15 chapters, oops), but I guess I have a lot to say, and also a few things I want to tie up (including Addison/Bizzy stuff). At this point I think it'll end up being like 50 chapters (max?), which is a lot, but hey, I'm having lots of fun writing it and there are worse things than reading a long fic featuring these two hot dummies, right? :)