Chapter title is a song by The Civil Wars. Thank you in advance for reading. Comments/feedback welcome! :)

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Chapter 11. Tracks in the Snow

Addison sees the way Derek looks when he holds Stella on Christmas Eve. And it eats at her, it really does, even though she is certain she has a similar look on her face while Carson is snuggled in her arms. It's just always harder to see pain on someone else's face than it is on your own, though. Eventually they'll trade babies, but for now the twins are content, and Addison and Derek have held enough nieces and nephews (now eight and five, respectively, and TBD for Nancy's latest) to know better than to tempt fade. Derek lift his gaze at one point though and smiles at Addison, which chips away at the knot of anxiety in her stomach; things are still a bit tension-filled since their argument a few days ago. And it doesn't seem to matter what Addison says or does; it's all just wrong, somehow.

She wonders where hers and Derek's baby will fit in numbers-wise. Addison would be happy with either of course, but she has a solid feeling that they will have a boy (or a boy first, if they have more than one child). She thinks back to the pregnancy test she took on her thirty-fifth birthday. The following morning, she let Derek know it would be a later-than-usual night – she had a Cytogenetics lecture to attend, and he made a face at this. Derek had been surprised at how quickly Addison went back to work after Susan died and after Bizzy's "scare" – he thought she might take some time off, but Addison had her fellowship to think about. Besides, work was a nice distraction.

"Honey, I know you're still disappointed about the results," she said. "And it's not like I'm not-not disappointed, but we'll start trying soon enough. It's just one more year. It'll go fast. Plus, you're still getting things up and running…"

Derek started his practice at the beginning of the year, and it's thriving so far – it's exceeded their expectations, honestly (Addison pouring in a little start-up money courtesy of her trust fund helped, of course). It's still a lot to take on though, and has come with a learning curve. A related problem is that Derek assumed once the initial owning-your-own-practice kinks were worked out, they would start trying for a baby, even though Addison was already in her medical genetics fellowship program by this point and they had talked beforehand about how she – they, but mostly she – did not want to get pregnant as a fellow.

"It's just that after everything that's gone on recently, I thought maybe you'd think about…" Derek quiets, and Addison's eyes widen when she realizes what he's hinting at.

"That I'd think about quitting? God, you've seriously never been supportive of me pursuing this fellowship. You understand when we have children, I'm not planning on not being a surgeon, right? Derek...a kid or me?"

"Addison, are you seriously -"

"Wait, no. Just listen for a sec. I want a baby. I want a baby with you, I do. That wasn't an ultimatum. But I'm just saying…we're already a family. And sometimes…sometimes you make me feel like I'm not enough for you."

"I'm not trying to…" Derek sighed and came over to her, squeezing her hands. "You're enough for me, Addie."

Was she though? Is she though?

I'm not enough. It's something that has always plagued her, and it doesn't matter how much she has accomplished on a professional level. It's never been about that, anyway.

Mark tried therapy in his thirties; Addison tried when she was twenty. It was the college semester from hell: she was taking Organic Chemistry, Physics 2, Multivariable Calculus, Conversational French, Introduction to the Modern European Novel, and tennis. She wanted to graduate in three and-a-half years, and truthfully, she was interested in all of these subjects. Addison was pushing herself to the limit though, maybe even past it. She was stressed and couldn't sleep. And not that she had a spare second of time at all, but she signed herself up for an appointment with some sort of counselor at the student wellness center, wondering if maybe that would help her find ways to cope with the stress and settle her mind enough to fall asleep at night (going the private route wasn't an option; she didn't know if there would be some sort of insurance trail of information that would leak its way back to Bizzy and the Captain, who would surely have things to say about their daughter talking to someone). Addison's then-roommate, Savvy, encouraged her to check out the wellness center – this was after encouraging Addison to drop tennis and French, and what the hell, the real world and being an actual grownup seems so crappy, why would you want to graduate in less than four years anyway?

So Addison met with someone, but she was too nervous to stick with it, and never called to schedule a second appointment. It was the question What do you do to soothe yourself? that alarmed her. She didn't have an answer, because self-soothing sort of implied she knew what it was she needed. Instead, Addison told her counselor dropping a course felt like a personal failure, and, well – after that, she remembered doing a lot of listening, chiming in with short, clipped responses even in the face of prompts and open-ended questions. So, Addison…let's say you were to lighten your schedule…if you did, would you be disappointing anyone else, or just yourself? You seem like a perfectionist, so it's always hard to make adjustments like this in your head, but don't think of it as lowering your expectations – think of it as making your expectations realistic. But at the beginning of our session, you mentioned not feeling like you were 'good enough,' and based on some of the 'yes' answers on the questionnaire you filled out for me…we should try to explore that. Let's go back to that. Because maybe this isn't just about your classes. I want to make sure you're taking care of yourself. And letting others take care of you, too – that's important.

In the end, it was easier to just take a stupid incomplete in tennis.

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. .

Two Years Earlier

"So, Garden Club." Mark acknowledges, still a little bemused. "I guess I knew that was a thing, but I also…didn't know it was a thing."

It is a nice day in New Haven, with a gentle spring breeze ruffling at his shoulders when he climbs into the back of Derek's car. His best friends have just picked him up at the hotel he checked into a few hours ago. Mark is performing a complex surgery early tomorrow morning at Yale New Haven, and the timing worked out (perhaps unfortunately, given that club is preceded by garden rather than night or, hell, basically anything else) that Derek and Addison were going to be in the area on Sunday.

Derek chuckles. "Welcome to certain Connecticut zip codes, Mark. You just have to feign interest for like an hour once we get to this thing. It's awkward, but doable. And luckily we don't have to do this often…"

"True. Bizzy doesn't ask for much," Addison chimes in. Well. Other than trying to save Susan last April, that is. "And, you know. This past year was rough for her, with…with losing her friend. So, like Derek said: just feign interest while looking at the flowers. Then we can get out of there and grab a drink somewhere."

"So, basically…" Mark grins as something registers with him. "This afternoon is the law of Garden Club and feign."

"What?"

"You know. Like, the law of club and fang," Mark says, but Derek's eyes lift to the rearview mirror in confusion, and Addison twists around in the passenger seat to regard Mark with an expression that matches her husband's. "The Call of the Wild. Damn it, you guys. That was solid. And for two really well-read people -"

"You're right," Addison interrupts with a laugh. "I get it now. That was a good one."

"It was my favorite book when I was younger. And here you both probably thought I was illiterate."

"Still do, on occasion," Derek quips. "Is that the one Mrs. Hess was all over you about?"

"Yep. So, Addison…I'm not sure how things worked for you at Ms. Porter's WASP Exeter Academy of Patch and Polka-Dot Gold -"

"Also known as Carrington Prep," Addison breathes out in amusement.

"But at our humble school, it was a class set of books and we had to return them once we were done and the unit was wrapped up. And I…was resistant to giving my copy back. I only did once Mrs. Hess got a hold of Jenny…and obviously that took a minute, because after school was usually, I guess you could say, my mother's 'disco nap' time."

"And then you got in additional trouble because…?" Derek prompts with a simpering look, and Mark rolls his eyes. He doesn't particularly mind sharing this, and he knows his friend means well, but every once in a while Mark would just to love to knock that look of self-righteousness off Derek's face.

"I hated how the book ended," he answers. "I get why it ended how it did, but ten-year-old Mark had some…feelings about it. So I ripped out the last few pages – somewhere before Buck's final owner was killed – and Mrs. Hess discovered it right away. I probably subconsciously wanted her to. She should have just given the book back to me…I'm sure she didn't end up using that particular one with future classes."

"She probably didn't want to reward you for being an ass. She always had a soft spot for you though," Derek puts in thoughtfully. "Most of our teachers did."

"Well..." Mark says. Whatever. Let Derek be the Good One, the Superior One. It's no skin off Mark's nose. His far nicer shaped nose, he might add. "Mrs. Hess's soft spot went away when I was in high school and she walked in on me and her daughter." Derek already knows this, so Mark is mostly explaining it to Addison. "Lainey Hess was in my Geometry class."

Addison raises an eyebrow in amusement. "And I'm guessing Mrs. Hess didn't walk in on you two studying."

"Debatable. There's more than one way to study, Red. Angles are just two figures that meet at a common point, after all. And apologies to Mrs. Hess, but it's not like Lainey was a beacon of purity before that afternoon. If we're talking angles and degrees here, then you should know that that girl could get both her legs -"

"Mark, I'm begging you to stop," Derek says.

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. .

"Hey," Mark says, opening his apartment door for Addison. His face doesn't indicate any surprise, because unexpected arrivals don't really end up being unexpected when you have a doorman who will notify you when a woman – Addison Montgomery-Shepherd – shows up in the lobby asking for you around eight on Friday evening. He knows why she's here, of course. It's January second, his birthday, and despite him telling Addison and Derek for years not to get him anything for Christmas or his birthday ("Are we really going to keep doing this gift exchange shit?"), they never listen. Well. Addison never listens. In normal circumstances, in non-adultery circumstances, she'd just hang on to the present until Mark came over to their place to watch a Giants or Knicks game, or just drop it off at his office if she had a long lunch.

"Hey," she answers, and Mark moves back for her to enter, figuring she wouldn't have come if she didn't plan to. "Happy New Year. And happy birthday, Mark. I wasn't sure if you'd be out celebrating…" she says with a small, teasing grin. This is never a possibility, they both know. Mark doesn't necessarily dread his birthday, but he doesn't promote it. He'd prefer to spend it alone. He can't stand that thing that happens if he has to show his ID and someone looks at it and realizes it's his birthday and is too enthusiastic in their response. Also, most people are still recovering from the holidays and New Year's Eve parties anyway. That's how it always was with Everett and Jenny, at least. And he knows it's a stupid grievance, and obviously some people have real problems, but he thinks it would have been kind of nice to have had an actual birthday party just once as a little kid. "I wanted to bring you your gift though," Addison tells him.

"Thanks. That's nice of you. So, the next time I see Derek, will he know what it is I'm thanking him for?" Mark asks. It's another running joke; Addison always signs Derek's name on whatever gift she selects, and Derek may or may not know what said gift is.

"No. This one is…it's just from me, actually. But Derek told me he would text you today to wish you a happy birthday, so hopefully he did that." Addison is peering distractedly over Mark's shoulder while she answers his question. "He's in Seattle. He's assisting Richard with a case. Richard is the chief of surgery at Seattle Grace. I don't think your path ever crossed with him – Richard Webber – but he was briefly at our hospital while we were residents. I just…" she smiles wider when Mark finally turns to see what she's staring at. "Your tree is still up." She walks over to it, and Mark realizes that even though it's just a birthday, of course Addison would want him to open his present in front of a tree. He sinks to the floor beside her, glad he thought to plug in the lights earlier.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to take it down…"

"I like that it's still up," Addison says brightly while reaching into her handbag. "So, your gift – I didn't wrap it, and it's really just a little something…" a delicate flush crosses over her cheeks when she hands him a hardcover copy of The Call of the Wild. "All the pages are in there," she adds with a grin.

"You remembered. Thank you, Red." Mark takes the book from her, feeling genuinely touched. Addison has always been the queen of thoughtful gifts. "I feel like I should give you a hug, but, uh, given our recent history, it's probably not a good idea."

"Probably not, but then again…I wouldn't have come here if I weren't interested in a hug and...you know, other things," she answers slowly. "Before Christmas when you brought my scarf back, you said you were okay with me using you, and I – I don't want you to be okay with that, Mark. You're a good man, sometimes. I mean…sorry." Addison winces. "I didn't mean for that to sound insulting. I'm just trying to say you deserve better than a fling with a married woman, but if...if you are still interested in doing fling-ish things with me -"

"What changed?" He interrupts.

"Nothing. And that's the problem. That's always the problem with Derek. And I don't want to hurt him or keep breaking my vows, and I know what you and I have been doing isn't okay, but I just...I still want you. I feel good when I'm with you. You make me feel good. And I...I think I make you feel good, too?" Addison pauses, and then smiles, almost shyly, and then almost with relief when Mark quietly says that she makes him feel good as well. "And I know that afterwards...if this were to happen again..."

"We're gonna feel dirty and like crap."

"Yes," she says in agreement. "The guilt is going to be a hailstorm of self-loathing and misery. It's just...I'm starting to think I can find a way to bear that, because...well. This is enough, in some ways. Like I said: I feel good when I'm with you. And I like being with you, even though it's wrong and at the end of the day I have a husband. But if...if you want me, in any capacity, then right now…I'd like to stay for a bit."

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Three Years Earlier

"You're telling me you gave up." Bizzy finally pulls her attention away from staring out the window at the East River. Addison and Derek told her a few minutes ago that Susan didn't make it, and then they escorted Bizzy to a private room, because Addison's mother is very much of the opinion that tears should not be shed in public. "When Susan…when she…" Bizzy continues. "Addison, why didn't you save her? How could you just stand there and watch her die?"

Why? Because that was Addison's job in that moment, to follow what she documented on the medical chart. She remembers what Susan told her two days ago while signing the necessary paperwork: If it weren't for your mother, I don't think I ever would've come here. But I love her. She's my best friend. I want to do it...for her. Don't be a hero though, Addie. If something happens during my surgery, that's it.

Bizzy still hasn't cried. And now Derek has stepped out of the room to give them privacy. Apparently he didn't notice Addison's silent, frantic plea of do not leave me alone with her.

"She didn't want extraordinary measures. She signed a DNR. She didn't want me to tell you. I…I couldn't do anything at that point. I know you wanted heroics, but that's not what Susan wanted. If you want to be angry at me for that, I get it, but it won't -"

"My life began when I met Susan. Do you understand that? She meant…" Bizzy shakes her head. Her voice finally does crack a little, unsteadiness overtaking the normally cold, formal tone just for a moment. "You and your brother – you took everything. Especially you. Because that's what children do, Addison. They take and they take and they take until there's nothing left. So I threw birthday parties and I smiled and I kept my mouth shut. You have no idea the sacrifices a woman makes when she has children. Susan was the one thing that was for me."

Addison ducks her head when quivering tears start to fall down her cheeks.

Two weeks later, she almost loses Bizzy. But she lost her a little on this day, too.

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. .

Mark is slightly transfixed as Addison moves above him, spread legs (surprisingly powerful legs, he discovers) trapping him in place. The lights from the Christmas tree – damn, what a fantastic idea to be too lazy to put it away yet – are shining on her chest and stomach while she rocks forward and backward against him.

He doesn't understand his best friend. Not that Mark wants to think about that right now, because he doesn't, but it's just…seriously what is Derek's problem? With a wife who looks like this, and is also brilliant and kind and funny…how could Derek not want to be inside her morning, noon, and night? Hell, it wouldn't even have to be full-on sex. Mark doesn't believe there is an existing limit to how much time he would spend with his face buried between Addison's thighs if he had the chance. He would do literally anything to pleasure her, to make her feel good, and it occurs to him that he does have a chance tonight. He'll wait, of course. They're both too far gone at this point to switch things up, and fuck, this feels incredible, but as soon as they're finished with this, well, Mark definitely has some plans. For now though, he braces his hands against Addison's waist for support, but lets her control the rhythm. He occasionally scales his hands up the ladder of her ribs to fondle her breasts – and although he loves whenever her hands move to cover his, he loves it even more when Addison touches herself before he can. When she does it a third time, he tells her how sexy she is, and her smile lengthens.

"You know…this might be my favorite birthday ever," Mark says.

"Mmm. Mine too," Addison tells him, even though it makes no sense and ends up triggering a light laugh from them both. She knots a hand in the hair covering the nape of her neck – as much as she can manage to grab, head tilting towards the ceiling from the pressure – and her other hand is behind her, fingernails drifting over Mark's thigh, enhancing the arch in her back and offering him a lot to look at. And although it's far, far from what could be considered a disreputable position, Addison vaguely wonders if she looks like a porn star while doing this (and possibly sounds like one, because there has been a lot of groaning and hums of satisfaction on her part, as well as some name-repetition that Mark's already over-inflated ego doesn't need). If she does though, Mark doesn't care. She sees how he's been looking at her, and she absolutely loves it. It only increases her excitement and emboldens her to keep touching herself for his benefit. "Feels so good," she mumbles. "Oh…oh. God, Mark."

Addison is well past the point of coherence when Mark pulls her down for a kiss that holds a searing sense of urgency. She moans into his mouth when her muscles seize around him.

It occurs to her not long after this, when Mark is eagerly kissing his way down her body, that he makes her feel like she's enough.

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. .

Addison inhales sleepily as her eyes flutter open. She can't remember when exactly she drifted off. Mark's living room in encased in darkness save for the glow of his Christmas tree, and she continues to blink heavily. The gray comforter (because of course it's gray, everything with Mark is always gray or black) draped over her wasn't here earlier. And she definitely didn't have her head resting on Mark's chest earlier. Right now he feels peaceful beneath her, one arm tucked loosely around her as they lie close to his tree.

"You awake?" She asks quietly.

"…I am now."

"Oh. Sorry. It's just…Mark Everett Sloan…are you holding me while I sleep?"

"Don't tell anyone," he says, which makes them both laugh uncomfortably. Of course they won't be telling anyone. "And hey, I'm an ass, but not a total ass, Red. I wasn't going to let your head just loll on the ground while I slept next to you with a pillow and blanket. By the way…remind me to never call you in case of an emergency." And then Mark remembers with a jolt that when it comes to necessary HR paperwork, Addison is actually second on his designated contact list.

Derek is first.

Addison smiles curiously at this statement. "Why?"

"Because you didn't wake up during any of that. I can understand how you might be a little worn out…" Mark smirks when she predictably flicks him in the shoulder with her thumb and pointer finger. "But still. I guess you would have woken up if I pulled you to your feet and we went to my actual bed rather than lying here inevitably fucking up our backs, but, you know…I have my doubts."

"I'm sort of a deep sleeper when I know it's okay to be. Now that I am awake though, if you'd rather…" Addison adjusts slightly to rest her palms and the point of her chin on the plane of Mark's chest. She truly means what she is about to say. "I can always go home, if you'd like for me to."

"At like one in the morning? Uh, no." And then his voice softens. "Stay, Addison."

She smiles. "Okay. I will. You know, I just realized…since it's after midnight…it's Susan's birthday. Or was Susan's birthday."

"Who?" Mark asks. God, he's terrible with names. Birthdays, too.

"Susan was my mother's friend. Ovarian cancer. I operated on her…in April it will be three years since she died," she explains and Mark nods and tells her he remembers now. "My mother's best friend," Addison adds. "And, also. Well. Also her lover."

Mark's head jerks back against his pillow in surprise. "Her...wait. Wait. Bizzy's a lesbian?"

"Yeah. Or, I mean. Maybe that's not how she identifies – I'm sure anything above a zero on the Kinsey scale is frowned up in Bizzy's world, in what she considers seemly and unseemly, but she loved Susan. For a long time. Bizzy didn't tell me directly that they were together, but reading between the lines…anyway. I've never actually told anyone this. Not my brother or the Captain. Not even Derek."

"Don't you think your dad…knows though? And maybe just doesn't want to tell you and Archer?"

"Definitely possible. Montgomerys tend to look the other way when something is none of their business. I've never asked though, and probably never will."

"I'm sorry. That must have been really hard for all of you. How, uh…how is Bizzy doing now?" Mark thinks back to the last time he saw her – May or June, whenever it was, at the flower thing.

"She's doing okay. It was hard, for a long time, and obviously Bizzy doesn't talk about it, but she's…she's doing okay." Addison is willing to say that, but nothing else on the subject, even though she feels a strange pull to tell Mark more, to tell him everything. Sometimes at night, she still sees the blood and can hear the hoarseness of her scream. "It helps that she still has the Captain. You know…my parents are best friends. Yes, Susan might have been Bizzy's 'real' best friend, and I guess the love of her life, but my parents are still…they're genuinely friends and they like each other. They just maybe weren't meant to be husband and wife and to create a life together. You know, I reread The Call of the Wild after I got that copy for you. And in it, at one point, death is described as 'a cessation of movement.' And I just…I know it's simplistic, but I think that's a really pretty description. With Bizzy, and I know this is morbid…I'll be sad when she dies one day. Because I do love her – in whatever way it is that I'm able to, at least. She's my mother. She's an impossible woman to please, but she's still my mother, and I guess, somewhere deep down, there's that instinct to not give up on our relationship, you know? And even though Bizzy has never said it, even though she can't say it, I still love her. I loved her then and I love her now, because I can't let that go and…I've carried it with me, I think. I'm not a kid anymore, and I'm, you know, married and I have people in my life who I care about and who care about me, but those childhood feelings tend to stick around anyway, so there are still times even now where I've felt so completely and utterly…" she pauses when Mark nudges at her shoulder and rolls them over so they're on their sides. "I don't know if any of that makes sense. It's just that our upbringings weren't all that different…"

"I get it," Mark says quietly. He tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear, and then keeps his hand framed around her cheekbone. "You've felt unloved and alone before, too."

"Yeah. I don't…" Addison looks uncertain. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

Mark leans forward to brush his lips against hers. "It's okay," he murmurs, moving a hand beneath the blanket to caress her hipbone and thigh that are closest to him. If he can feel the short series of trembles that pass over Addison's lips and chin between kisses, he doesn't comment on it, and she appreciates this. Derek always seems annoyed by all her feelings, by what he refers to as "girl flip-out," even though that's not always what it is. Addison doesn't always need tissues, reassurances, hugs. Sometimes she just needs to know that her feelings have been heard and acknowledged. "It's okay, Addison. I don't mind," Mark adds, and it's so long after the fact that she almost asks, Mind what?

"Mark…" she says softly, using an arm to draw him closer to her. "Don't stop. Please."

"Always with the manners," Mark teases. "Once a WASP, always a WASP, huh?" But then he shifts her onto her back and takes his time when he starts to move inside her.

Addison marvels at how well he seems to know her body, seems to recognize her needs. It's slower this time, with less primal urgency and more sleep-caused lethargy, but Mark is still managing to set all her nerves on fire. It doesn't take long before she is gasping underneath him, and when waves and waves of pleasure start to land closer together, when Addison feels closer to crying out and is just positively dizzy with need for Mark, she thinks of another part in The Call of the Wild that stuck with her. Buck cared so much for John Thornton that he allowed passion to usurp cunning and reason.

Is that what this is, with her husband's best friend?

. .
. .

"I'm not sure why I'm here."

"But you came. You came back, actually. Tell me what you think brought you back," Olivia says.

"I'm sure you already know from past notes from when I saw you like four years ago what it is I need to work on…" Mark pauses, lifting his chin to indicate the clipboard in Olivia's lap, but his old-new therapist remains frustratingly silent. That's part of her job, he knows, but it's still annoying. Olivia will out-silence him and eventually he'll cave and, ugh, share things. "I'm also here, because, just…well, I think I'm falling in love with someone, but I don't think…I don't think I can tell her that. I can't, actually."

"Saying 'I love you' or sharing that your feelings for someone are growing…that's always a little scary, Mark. You have no way of controlling what this woman's response will be, or if she'll feel the same way. But if you don't try to tell her, you might regret it. We pay a price in so many ways – emotionally and physically, for example – the longer we internalize things."

"It's just that…it's my best friend's wife."

Olivia doesn't seem to be able to help herself at this remark, though truthfully, Mark isn't sure what a therapist is supposed to say to something like this. He imagines her face isn't meant to reveal as much as it does though. And she doesn't look disappointed, like how Lynette sort of initially looked when Mark told her…Olivia just looks sad. Sad for him.

"Oh, Mark," she replies gently, tightening her fingers around her clipboard.

. .
. .

References:

Oh cool, another page of notes. Here we go, and God help us all.

Grey's 3x07, in an exchange between Addison and Callie, Addison describes sleeping with Mark as "a hailstorm of self-loathing and misery."

Addison explaining the DNR to Bizzy is mostly a copy/paste, as is the heartbreaking "My life began when I met Susan…" speech with a few modifications. Same with the "impossible to please" bit and also the fact that as far as loving her daughter, Bizzy has (allegedly) never said it and can't say it (Note: I tend to look up these quotes way in advance, and take what I need, then plug them into notes on my phone as I'm writing scraps of future scenes/outlining…so I'm not always good about remembering exact quotes and specific episodes unless I look them up again, and quarantine or no quarantine, I just don't have that kind of time. I promise to always be honest though about anything that isn't 100% mine). Hmm. What else…Bizzy didn't believe in crying in public – this was mentioned in Addison's eulogy. And Susan did tell Addison she was just pursuing treatment because of Bizzy, so that line was a copy/paste.

"Girl flip-out" is something Derek said to Addison in Grey's 2x19 when she wanted to talk about Mark showing up the day before…also, this is the episode where Addison pees outside and gets Poison Oak, and openended and myself will forever have questions about this.

Oh, and Bizzy flower stuff – yes, darlingwrecks, because THIS is important shit. This is def what the readers are here for.

In PP 4x14, in lieu of flowers when Bizzy died, her Will specified donations be made to the city ballet or Garden Club. Also, in PP 3x10, in a conversation between Bizzy and the Captain that was only loosely heard because the focus of the scene was mainly Addison and Sam (barf…sorry) watching them and trying to figure out what Addison's parents were saying behind the words they were actually saying:

Bizzy: "…and the geraniums bloomed. They're absolutely gorgeous. I think we'll win first place this year at New Haven."
The Captain: "The Silvermans' tulips…" (and then it trails off, sparing us additional floral information. Also, I did namedrop Silverman as a last name in chapter 1, because including those subtle-weird details kind of thrills me).

In PP Season 5, Addison reveals in therapy that there was a semester where she took Organic Chemistry, Physics 2, Multivariable Calculus, Conversational French, Introduction to the Modern European Novel, and tennis. She wanted to graduate in three and-a-half years. And she did take an incomplete in tennis and retook it later (also, GIRL. It was implied that you had tennis lessons and French lessons as a child. Why would you do this to yourself?)

Mark does call Addison brilliant during the following Mark/Derek exchange in Grey's 8x10:

Mark: "You know what your problem is? You don't think anyone who sleeps with me can be talented or have half a brain."
Derek: "That is not true."
Mark: "It's mostly true."
Derek: "Yeah. Yeah, it's mostly true."
Mark: "Your ex-wife is brilliant, and she slept with me…I'm not trying to start a fight. I'm just sayin'…"

(Mark won't be sleeping with his therapist, if you were wondering that. And it's a valid thing to wonder, since, you know. Mark.)

And also, no one on Grey's ages anyway, but based on how I'm writing them: Mark is 38 at present – January birthday (a memorable birthday…heh). Addison will be 38 in May (I had to go back to a few spots in previous chapters when I listed her age as 35, when in actuality she was almost 35 when Susan died and some shit with Bizzy went down – math and ages in writing is hard, y'all. And Derek will be 39 in September. I decided when I first started writing this fic to make Derek have a slightly "later" birthday, but he started school when Mark did, so Derek typically would have been the oldest in his class. I can't remember why I did this (probably just one more BS reason in which Derek feels superior to Mark?), but I did. Does any of this matter? No. It matters even less than the flower thing. But I just wanted you to know.

Next chapter will be feature angst/angry stuff between Mark and Addison, but…still probably smutty. It's just never smooth sailing with these two. Thank you for reading. Comments are always welcome, and much appreciated.