Hello there! Chapter title is a song by Dan Fogelberg.

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Chapter 12. The Higher You Climb

Seven Years Earlier

"Look at me. No." Addison raises a finger, pointing it close enough to Mark's face that his eyes will cross if he chooses to focus on it. "No," she repeats, tone fierce.

"Red, what are you even -"

"All right in here?" Derek asks as he comes into the kitchen. He wouldn't have come in, but Mark went to get them more beers and Addison followed and the whole thing is taking too long. Derek tips his head to the side, trying to figure out the scene in front of him.

"Oh, just the usual," Mark replies. He steps away from Addison's bossy index finger to slide Derek another beer. "I'm a thirty-year-old man apparently about to be put in timeout. Your wife is yelling at me and I'm not sure why."

"Well, what did you do? Or…who?"

"It's not who Mark is doing at present, Derek. It's who he is planning to do."

Derek smirks at this response. "You might have to narrow that down a bit, Addison."

"It's Peyton."

"Peyton?" Derek says slowly, and then his eyes widen. "Wait. Peyton-Peyton? My muesli friend?"

Mark exhales audibly, a scornful noise fluttering past his lips. "God, that's the weirdest and stupidest friend description I've ever heard. I swear I'm gonna sleep with her just because of that."

"Peyton tends to be in one of the corner break rooms at the hospital most mornings when I'm in there," Derek explains. "We like the same cereal. She's so nice, Mark. And she's your favorite nurse, right, Addie?" He glances at Addison for confirmation, and she nods, and oh okay, Mark sees where they are going with this.

"Look…" Mark says after cracking open his beer. "If I sleep with Peyton and eventually – potentially – stop sleeping with her, that doesn't mean she'll end up wanting to transfer to a different hospital. That's only happened once. Well. Twice."

Addison shakes her head. "It's more that if this goes south -"

"Well, that's usually my plan when I'm -"

"Please don't finish that. I just mean that it always ends up being a discussion. Peyton will be professional, sure, but she'll find ways to slide in questions and comments about what's going on with you, if I think things could ever be serious between the two of you…things like that. She's going to pick my brain." Addison offers Mark a grin that doesn't seem entirely strained, so he smiles back. Even though she doesn't necessarily approve of Mark's lifestyle, she does tend to get some amusement out of it – just like Derek. Mark can tell though that at the end of the day, his friends think what any content married couple thinks about their single friends: aren't you so glad we don't have to date anymore?

"So I guess if I sleep with Peyton, in order to keep you both happy I'll have no choice but to seriously date and then propose and then settle down with this chick and live happily-muesli-ever-after."

"Guess so," Derek replies. "You should get married at some point, Mark. I promise you'll like it. Otherwise you're going to one day be in your fifties hitting on women who are far, far too young for you, and it's just not a good look."

"I'll keep that in mind. I'll even let you help me with the proposal for this one, provided there's no muesli involved."

Addison smiles fondly as she recalls her own proposal from a few years ago. It was their "dating anniversary," and Derek wanted to brownbag it for lunch at the Empire State Building, and then head to the Hamptons. They rented a house there for the weekend. It wasn't Derek's favorite place, but Addison loved it, so he was willing to tolerate it for her.

She knew the proposal was going to happen that day – after a certain amount of time, marriage just felt expected, a dating anniversary is a fairly standard day to propose, and she could see little "signs" all morning. Derek was fidgety and kept tucking a hand into his pocket. She thought maybe he would propose over dinner, but it happened earlier, which was nice, because Addison was surprised, but not entirely surprised. She was peeking through one of the cute little viewfinders on the observation deck, and then felt movement beside her. She looked away from the stretch of greenery comprising Central Park in the distance through cross-hatched fencing, and saw Derek kneeling before her with a jewelry box in his hand. He sweetly told her that he loved her and wanted to spend his life with her, and then asked her to marry him. Addison happily said yes, her voice a little muffled over the soft, excited murmurings of a few onlookers.

"You won't ever hurt me, right?" She asked a few nights later as she twisted her engagement ring around her finger. She was still getting used to wearing it. She was still getting used to the idea that someone loved her enough to marry her, that someone loved her enough to want to spend a lifetime with her.

Derek pressed his lips to her temple. "I won't ever hurt you."

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Addison is like an addict in need of a fix. She and Mark are careful, of course. Sex only ever happens at Mark's apartment or in his office. And maybe addict isn't the correct term, because this isn't quite the same as how she imagines the pervasive need to shoot up every day would be – she can go without seeing Mark, even though she'd prefer not to.

It happens usually three nights a week, maybe once a week in his office where Addison sinks her teeth into his shoulder so she doesn't make noise (the withering look she gets from Lynette each time she arrives at Mark's practice is uncomfortable enough without other people hearing what they're up to). Having sex in an office is a newer development for her. In general, aside from a few encounters with Derek earlier in their residency, she's never been a proponent of hospital intimacy…or office intimacy, as it now is. Work is for working. Lunch breaks are for lunching. But now there are days where she doesn't think she can wait to be with Mark, so powerful is the lust warming her from the inside out. Okay. So maybe addict fits just fine then.

Novels and movies have always led Addison to believe that carrying on an affair is stressful, but in her current situation, it's kind of…not? There are some strategic components to it, yes – specifically ensuring she and Mark don't get caught, and she is always quick to hop in the shower at the brownstone if she didn't shower before leaving Mark's – so there is some "pressure" in that sense, but it's just not the same thing as feeling…stressed. It's exciting, actually. It's exciting to be able to talk to Derek so he can tell her what time he expects to be home or when he's on-call so she knows when to arrive and depart from Mark's apartment. And honestly, it's even more exciting on the days she can't connect with her husband and instead scans the OR board and call lists and timetables to figure out Derek's whereabouts…which then dictate hers. Addison almost finds herself disappointed on the nights her husband arrives home when she does, and while she is disgusted with herself for feeling this way, it doesn't take much to forget these feelings, at least for a little bit. All it takes is being with Mark, which hits the pause button on everything else, even if it means the emotions will roar back painfully hard later. In that period of suspension though, the kisses cover the guilt. The foreplay replaces all thoughts of loneliness. And the sex itself replaces Addison's general unhappiness and self-loathing.

She never calls ahead before showing up, and maybe that's inconsiderate – she wouldn't just show up at Savvy and Weiss's Tribeca loft unannounced, for example – but an affair isn't really meant to be considerate. And what they have after a solid monthly of consistently sleeping together seems to work for them, and Mark certainly hasn't complained if he's not a fan of Addison coming and going as she pleases.

Addison smiles politely as she steps into the attended lobby of Mark's building one evening during the second week of February. The doorman, Tom, recognizes her now. Each time she enters the building, she winds her engagement ring around, hiding the diamond, which is stupid…it's not like this action somehow makes the ring itself and her wedding band invisible. Addison wonders if Tom knows she's married, or if he suspects it.

"Addison?" Tom hangs up the lobby phone and comes back over to her. His tone sounds different. This is usually the part where he lets Addison know he's called up to Mark's unit and alerted him that she's here. It's so habitual now that Addison has already taken a step towards the elevator, even though she can tell something is off. "Mark's not available," Tom states.

"He's not there?"

"He's…he's there." Tom looks a little sad for her. "Just…he told me to tell you he's not available at the moment." And then Addison understands what the doorman means, what exactly it would be that would render Mark to be not available to her.

"Oh, okay. I see." Addison is surprised at the catch in her voice. She feels embarrassed for the noticeable vibration in her words, and feels embarrassed for just, well, feeling embarrassed. "I must have mixed my days up." Addison forces a grin. "I'll give him a call later. Thank you for letting me know, Tom. And for contacting him for me."

"You're welcome. Sorry if this has caused you any inconvenience. And hey…Addison? I just wanted you to know – it's actually Thomas. I'll answer to Tom, of course, but I go by Thomas."

"Oh," she replies softly. Her eyes briefly flicker to his jacket, where a polished, six-letter nameplate is carefully pinned. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize…I heard Mark – and someone else one time who was leaving as I was coming in – call you 'Tom.' I never thought to ask you though. I'm sorry about that. That was rude of me."

He shakes his head. "No, it's okay. I didn't take it personally or anything. I just thought you should know. It doesn't bother me…it's just one of those names where people look at it and automatically assume a nickname is attached to it. It's probably why my wife and I went with Adam and Grant for our kids." Tom-now-Thomas shrugs at her. "No chance of making those names anything other than what they really are at first glance, right?"

"Right. You know…" Addison says, not at all sure why she's choosing to contribute more to the conversation. It occurs to her though, what's the point of going home? There isn't anything or anyone for her there. But then, the same goes for here at the moment. "'Addison' has become a more popular girls name in recent years, but for years it was more of a boy name. It's not the same thing, but I've definitely had people in my life who see my name in writing – both at my job and otherwise – and automatically think, 'oh, that's a guy.'"

"I guess people tend to just interpret things the way they want to interpret them. And see whatever it is they want to see, even when it's wrong."

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Seven Years Earlier

"I'm so sorry," Addison calls out, her voice a little breathless when she finds her husband in the living room. She gives him a small smile, her energy level hovering on a contradictory level somewhere between bone-tired exhaustion and the euphoric feeling that comes from getting to perform her own surgeries. As a surgical resident with some experience under her belt, it's been happening more and more lately for her and those around her: Derek, Sam, Naomi, and Mark have also gotten more chances to be respective surgical leads, and it has yet to lose its awe-inspiring quality. Perhaps it never will. Derek feels each day is a beautiful day to save lives; Addison is starting to think each day is a beautiful day to simply cut.

"No worries. It's okay." Derek shrugs mildly. "I have to talk to you about something though," he says, and Addison smirks, never quite sure how it can be that when her husband jokes around, he can manage to pull off an expression that appears equal parts serious and playful. It's sort of a skill, she supposes. "And look, I'm sorry it has to be this way, Addison, but you deserve to know: Naomi and I declared our love for one another over dinner tonight. It's over. I'll be leaving in the morning."

"Aren't you funny." She laughs. "God, I feel so guilty, but I really am glad you both still went – especially Nai, since she got a sitter for the evening. I saw her before she left, and I loved that dress she was wearing, too. How -"

"It was good, even though it was just half the team present and the salmon wasn't as good as the one we had at Le Bernardin like two months ago. It was fun to catch up with Nai though; we don't really get to do that with them as much anymore…or just us either, actually. And hey, did my future wife tell you that Maya is now pronouncing her 'r's' correctly?"

"Yes, and my heart just about exploded with sadness when I heard that. I delivered that kid. I was there when she cut her first tooth, and what the hell…she's just growing up now. Super rude of her. Thank God I still have that recording of her singing 'Wudolph the Wed-Nose Weindeer.' Remember that?"

"She's gonna hate that so much one day. Tell me about your surgery though. Nai said it was a bilateral oophorectomy?"

And so Addison does tell him. She happily, happily does. And her husband listens.

Addison can't quite pinpoint when Derek's enthusiasm for her career dried out. Oh, he's still supportive of her work, sure – minus his ambivalence about the genetics fellowship – but somewhere along the way, he lost interest in hearing about the patients she treats, about the infants she ensures get to leave the NICU and have a full life, about how she'd like to one day own her own practice just like he does.

Most days, it feels like Derek has lost interest in everything outside his work. Because that's part of it, isn't it? Derek has always considered what he does to be more important than whatever Addison and everyone else within the walls of NYP does. He practically equates Neurosurgery with being a god.

But in order to discuss how they've gotten to this place and when and why things actually changed, Derek would actually need to be here and be with her…but he's not.

He's not.

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"That one. Over there. Brown hair, low ponytail."

"Hi. Who are we talking about?" Addison asks as she settles into the empty seat beside her husband in the hospital cafeteria. She directs the question to Derek, even though it was Mark who was speaking when she approached. She can tell Mark is looking at her, but she refuses to meet his eyes. Whatever, she thinks. Maybe she's just not available at the moment.

"Hi." Derek leans over to kiss her on the cheek. That's still a thing that happens, at least. And he must have just had a successful surgery, because he seems happy, lighthearted. "We're talking about Charlene," he volunteers. "Peds nurse. And Mark's latest conquest. So if she starts trying to pump you for information about Mark, you'll know why." Derek then turns back to face his friend, seated on the other side of the table. "If you're trying to break some sort of number for how many nurses a guy can sleep with in one lifetime, I promise you, Mark: you are truly the DiMaggio of hospital relations. No one is going to touch the hit streak you've collected."

"Charlene is cute," Addison volunteers. It's true, after all. Charlene is cute. And Addison feels like she needs to say something. Her silence just seems…telling, otherwise. To her, at least.

"Yeah. And she's been on a few of my cases when I've had little ones on the operating table," Derek adds. "She's really good. Smart. Probably a few years younger than us, I would guess, but still age-appropriate. And she seems to have substance."

Mark rolls his eyes. "Which means you're surprised that she slept with me? Or you're surprised that I slept with her?"

"Both. Come on, Mark. I've known you practically my whole life. There have been plenty of women you've been with that have lacked talent…and who only have half a brain. Ah…shoot." Derek glances down at his waist when his beeper goes off. "That's my cue, I guess. You be good, Mark. And you too, Addie." He beams at Addison and she feels the urge to slap this cheerful mood of his right off his face. "I'm on-call tonight, so if I don't catch you before you leave for the day, I'll see you tomorrow."

Addison murmurs a goodbye, and then gives it a minute, wanting to wait until she knows Derek has wound his way out of the cafeteria and reached the closest available elevator to ride up to his floor. She busies herself with shredding a napkin Derek left behind, and assumes Mark is being quiet for the same reason. Her face still feels hot from Derek's characterization about the type of women Mark usually sleeps with.

"Addison? Can we -"

"I should probably go, too," she announces, unable to look at him. It's not even anger anymore, or at least not right now. Now it's just melancholy. "I have an SCT resection in like forty-five minutes. I just came down here to grab a green juice, and then I saw you guys."

"Okay. Uh, Addison…Tom said you came by last night. I'm sorry I wasn't…" Mark clears his throat. "I'm sorry I wasn't available. I'm around tonight though, if you and your talented self and fully-functioning brain want to come over. I should be home around seven."

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"Why did you come?" Mark asks as he closes the door behind them. He didn't know for sure that would be the first thing he said to Addison tonight – it was on his mind though, given that she didn't bother to hide her irritation with him at lunch. And then he saw the look on her face when he opened his apartment door to let her in, and knows this is certainly the greeting that makes the most sense.

"What do you mean why did I come?" She snaps while setting her handbag down on the nearest available surface. And then she's walking towards his bedroom, calling out her next words over her shoulder: "What do you think I'm doing here?"

"I know why you're here, but I'm wondering why you're here now when you still look like you're about to blow a gasket," Mark says as he follows after her. "And I've said it before, but your poker face is absolute shit; you might want to work on having a neutral expression when my extracurricular activities end up being discussed in public, especially when your husband is around. Your husband. Addison…" his teeth briefly clench together. "You're not allowed to be pissed that I'm sleeping with other women. I'm being careful and using condoms, if you're worried about that – but you don't get to be mad about this or dictate what I do in my spare time. You're the one who's married. And we're not a couple. I'm not just going to sit around pining for you, if that's what you're expecting."

Addison makes a face at this that he can't quite figure out, which is frustrating, because she really isn't all that hard to read – not for Mark, anyway. Not anymore.

"Well…" she finally replies, fingers nimbly pinching away as she works her way down the buttons on her floral print silk blouse. "I'm here now, and you know why I'm here. We might as well stop talking." And so they do stop talking. For the most part, anyway.

"Gentle," she hisses a few minutes later when his teeth scrape over her skin. "Don't leave marks."

"You really think he'd notice?" Mark says coldly. But then he runs his tongue over the pinkish spot on her collarbone, lightly soothing it. The comment from him was mean, but the act itself wasn't intended to go that route. He knows from those closed-mouth smiles and hums and the way Addison's head lifts to give him more access to her neck and chest that she generally likes when Mark nibbles at her skin and then follows the same path with his tongue.

"Shut up." She thinks about threatening to bite him back, but knows Mark would probably love that. And, well. She would too, honestly. "If we don't use a condom…" she begins when Mark is readying himself above her. "You swear to me you've been careful? With Charlene, and whoever else I work with who you've been making the rounds with recently?"

"I swear," he says, and when it appears Addison doesn't have anything else to say about that, he pushes inside her. The mattress rasps beneath them and the air quickly fills with their sighs and groans. "And I already said that," Mark adds, even though it wasn't the question itself that irritated him. She is irritating him. He pulls out of her without warning, and he chokes back an entertained laugh when Addison practically squawks in disapproval. "Turn around."

"Why? So you don't have to look at me?"

"Oh, fuck you," he snarls back. "I didn't say that. Just go home if you don't want to be here, Addison."

Her eyes narrow like a challenge. "I want to be here," she says, rolling onto her stomach and using her elbows to push herself up.

Sometimes sex is just sex, Mark thinks as he holds her by the hips. It isn't always complicated; it isn't always that profound. But there is something to be said for this position. He gets to control the tempo and forcefulness and depth, and more significantly, Addison has zero control. And that's a nice change of pace, honestly.

"God, Mark," she gasps out when he works a hand around her. "Oh, oh, oh." Her legs give out beneath her, or maybe Mark's do first; they collapse forward together. He's tired now, and slows for a minute, but then increases his speed again and comes with a hard jolt the moment Addison reaches a hand behind her to stroke his thigh in encouragement. One of his cheeks rests lightly against hers as he moves over her, and the friction and the way her legs seem bent at a funny angle feels a little weird, a little not them, but Mark still manages to rub circles against her until something between a hoarse, stretched-out scream and a shriek leaves her mouth. Addison is never exactly quiet – and he enjoys that about her, that she completely lets go and lets herself have fun – but she's never been quite that loud before. For what Mark pays monthly for this unit, he imagines the walls are thick, but he absently feels a little sorry for his neighbors in the event that he's wrong. They're both still gasping for breath when her body relaxes around him and he's softened inside her.

"Okay?" Mark murmurs when he feels like he can speak again. He kisses the back of her head, and then pushes some hair off her sweat-beaded cheek. He – they – didn't cross any lines, but this time was definitely a little rougher and a little less sincere. So Mark wants her to know…well. He kisses the back of her head again and then leans up. He doesn't know what he wants her to know. That's the problem.

"Yeah." Addison twists her head around as much as she can to look at him. "More than okay. God, that was amazing. I don't think I've ever…" she trails off with a blush, and Mark finishes the rest of the thought in his head with a certain degree of smugness. He rolls off her and they settle onto their backs, elbows propped above their heads to rest lazily against their pillows. "We may need to have angry sex more often," she adds.

"We might. Hey, Red -"

"Wait. Mark, I know that…look, I'm sorry. I know you're allowed to sleep with other women. And I know I'm absolutely not allowed to be jealous and spiteful about that. I'll work on that…and I'll – I'll text or call next time to see if you're even around or…or available."

"I probably should have texted to tell you not to come over," he says. "I just feel like…like it's in our best interest to limit the amount of booty call texts. I'll text next time though. And it's not like…it's not like there's been a lot of women since I started sleeping with you more regularly. And I'm not trying to rub it in your face or anything. Derek asked me today if I've been seeing anyone recently, and I'm not seeing-seeing Charlene, but I was with her last night, and…I didn't want to lie to him. And I'm not sleeping with other woman to make you jealous, or to hurt your feelings, if that's what ended up happening…or what you were feeling like."

"I know. But if you start, I mean, getting serious with someone or it's someone you really like…will you please tell me? I don't want to mess anything up for you. I know I'm already a cheater, but I don't want to be a cheater in that way, too."

"The way in which I'm a cheater, you mean?" Mark says without offense, but it produces a sad grimace from her. "Plus, come on," he adds before Addison can say anything. "Who have I even been serious with in the past decade?"

"There's been like two or three you've been somewhat serious with or at least sort of 'with.' Peyton, for one – I guess that was quite a few years back though. I liked her for you, actually. It's too bad she moved."

"Yeah. Her parents lived in Colorado and they were getting older…so she wanted to be closer to them to spend more time with them. Strange concept for people who grew up like we did, right? Just imagine wanting to be close to your parents," he says, and Addison makes a noise in agreement.

"Do you and Derek still have sex?" Mark asks quietly. He half expects her to be angry at him for asking, but she doesn't seem to be. And maybe it's weird, but he wants to know.

"Not often," she answers. "Maybe like once a month, if that. The last time isn't even ringing a bell."

"That memorable, huh?"

"Mark…"

"Sorry," he says when she turns her head to look at him. A frown is etched over her features. "I shouldn't have said that. But, Addison? I was just thinking that…" Mark inhales slowly. So many words are jumping around in his brain. Olivia said that feelings can't just be turned off. A lot of people will have an experience where they desire someone they can't have, but when that happens, they have to find their way past it, first by changing the situation. Namely: stop screwing your best friend's wife (his words for that one, not his therapist's). Mark is a hostage to his emotions at the moment though and it makes him think of that damn motto that has stuck with him all these years, the thing about laws and morals. There is a certain morality about embracing honesty, sure, but as far as actually sharing his feelings…is there a purpose? Or would it just be helping him placate his own urges? Because what does Mark expect to happen? What does he want to happen? And most significantly: what does he think would actually happen if he shares what he is feeling? After all, it's possible you're interested in a married woman because it's easier than coming to terms with your loneliness and insecurities (therapist's words this time).

"What?" Addison prompts when he falls silent.

"It's just that, well. I just wanted you to know that I know this is fun for both of us, but I don't see you as another part of my DiMaggio streak. You get that, right?"

"I really only know Joe DiMaggio in reference to his relationship with Marilyn Monroe." She smirks in amusement. "I know he played baseball, but it sounds like he holds some sort of record based on what you and Derek were saying. And I imagine if you both deigned to talk about him, he probably wore the pinstripes."

"Yeah. He had a 56-game hit streak once, and it's impossible to imagine anyone ever topping that. But…you didn't…you didn't really answer my question."

"Yes, Mark. I know that. I do have a fully functioning brain, after all." There is that smirk again, and he loves that pretty, full-lipped mouth of hers, he really does. She's not in the mood to be serious right now – maybe she never was – so all Mark can do at this point is keep the banter going. And he eases his hand back between her legs, testing to see if she's ready again, or if she needs more time.

"And you're also very, very talented," he murmurs. "We should explore those talents a little more, actually."

We might as well stop talking. She said it earlier. Mark agreed then, and he agrees now. It's easier this way. No one gets hurt. And he can't say the wrong thing.

Or anything at all.

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It's not just the baby thing. It's not. Because, honestly, even though every baby-related discussion in the past three years is memorable in a Not Good Way, Derek just brings the baby thing up every few months. It's hard for Addison to imagine a baby would even keep him happy – or make him happy – once the afterglow of being a proud new parent starts to fade and the day-to-day grind of caring for someone entirely dependent on you sets in. Derek's career is everything to him. Not Addison, not his friends, not his family or future family. Maybe that wasn't always the case, but it is now.

Derek could be a better family man; he doesn't stay in touch with his sisters as much as he should or inquire about his nieces and nephews as much as he should. Addison is the one who handles everything, who signs Derek's name on things, who signs his name first. It's Addison who makes sure she has all the birthdays correct, and marks them on the calendar each year. She asks about the kids' upcoming activities, even though she and Derek won't be able to make most of them. It's Addison, for example, who sent a locket with a cross on it for Hadley's first communion and flowers for Isla's ballet recital. She is repeatedly lauded for getting "the most thoughtful" gifts for her sister-in-laws' various baby showers. And Addison keeps in touch with Kathleen, Nancy, and Liz (with much more consistency than Derek does) since there are plenty of last-minute things in the lives of children that can't be accounted for. Last summer she sent a gift basket with low-key activities and a Sock Monkey Pal to William after his emergency appendectomy. And it's Addison who gets the Christmas presents, and makes sure cards and birthday gifts go out on time. Is keeping score like this petty? Yes. But so is Derek.

If she sat back and did nothing…would her husband pick up the slack? Probably not. And has he ever sacrificed anything for her, ever?

No. And certainly not right now, when they are squaring off in the kitchen on the fourteenth.

"What do you want from me, Addison? What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to care!" She yells back, arms gesturing wildly.

It's Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day on a Saturday – not just convenient with the schedules they have, but lucky. Derek already got her flowers, even though Addison did the wifely thing of saying he didn't have to (but still secretly wanting him to). Her husband isn't necessarily thoughtless…he's just not thoughtful. Which now comes into play since Derek has just told her he needs to cancel their dinner plans – plans they set in place two weeks ago. Addison barely hears what he's saying, so loud is the rush of fury whistling in her ears. Patient…rare procedure…agreed to it…experimental…no one else would…only three people in the world…would be good press for me…we can always reschedule dinner…

It's not like Addison hasn't been in similar situations – she was catching up with Naomi yesterday via text, so the oophorectomy that sort of fell into her lap one time and she skipped dinner for comes to mind – but she has never deliberately gone out of her way to blow off her husband. She has never once thought that anything of hers is, in the grand scheme of things, more important than anything of his. Or more important than him.

They were a thousand feet in the air when Derek got down on a knee and asked her to marry him. He was nervous, so it isn't fair to nit-pick his words or root through them in an attempt to find one more thing to be upset with him for, but it occurred to Addison recently that Derek said he wanted to spend his life with her. Not his whole life and not the rest of his life. The distinction, if there even is one, didn't matter at the time, because their life was just so different then. She fit in Derek's life once, but she doesn't seem to fit in it anymore. Or he just doesn't want her to. It's hard to say. Addison just knows for certain that on the day Derek proposed, when she said yes, it felt like being on top of the world and like she and her future husband were the world's focal point all at once.

She doesn't feel like that anymore. And she's certainly not the center of Derek's world anymore, either. Maybe she never was.

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References:

Grey's Anatomy, 2x07. Addison finds a place to have lunch at the top of some building that has a nice view, and she tells Derek, "It's hardly brown bagging at the top of the Empire State Building, but they do have these cute little viewfinders."

Grey's 3x04. Addison admits she didn't know Derek was "the one." Meredith, who is delightfully high on morphine, asks if she knew Derek was the one, and though the question definitely caught Addison off-guard, she answered honestly: "I didn't know...I just...Derek's the kind of guy...I just knew he wouldn't hurt me. Not on purpose anyway. Not the way I hurt him." Do I feel like Addison loved Derek deeply and probably and conclusively – at least while things were stable in their marriage – considered him to be the love of her life? Yes, yes I do. But I can definitely see why her upbringing would make her leery to the idea of anyone being The One and generate some doubts when it comes to unconditional love.

Per Private Practice 3x23, Addison delivered Maya and was there when Maya cut her first tooth. She also recorded Maya singing "Wudolph the Wed-Nose Weindeer" and apparently played it every night on her tape deck (LOLOLOL I'm dead) for a month. Oh, and the dinner thing with Sam and Naomi: that happened in PP 4x03. It was a flashback that was connected to a present-day situation Sam was dealing with. Addison and Sam both had surgeries, Nai was getting ready to leave for their group dinner, and Derek (who made the reservation – shocking, right?) was already at the restaurant waiting for them. It was a quick scene, but it was kind of cute, and it was clear Addison 100% forgot about dinner.

Grey's 3x12 reference. Charlene is the Peds nurse Addison caught Mark with before she came out to Seattle (Addison didn't expressly say "caught" in the scene I'm about to quote, but it's implied, and we know from her conversation with Derek in 3x05 that she caught Mark with someone else). "That last woman you slept with before I left New York...Charlene, the Peds nurse? Did you think that she was the only one I knew about?"

Addison, at some point during season five of PP: "I want to be the center of someone's world and I want them to be the center of my world. I want them to sacrifice for me and with me." And the "What do you want from me, Addison?" / "I want you to care!" exchange is a nod to an Addison/Derek scene in 2x25 when everything in their relationship comes to a head (in front of everyone at then-SGH). I imagine we all know this one and can recall the strangled, broken way in which KW says/shouts this line.

Callbacks to previous chapters by way of muesli (Derek's breakfast of choice) and the Derek/Mark "you sleep with duds" (paraphrasing) conversation.

Mm-kay, probably my last update until next week. Since festive cookies are not an option, holiday gifts are appreciated in the form of reviews. This might actually be my favorite story of mine/my favorite one to write to date (and truthfully, I'm not even sure how I envision it ending yet), so hearing from readers always warms my heart. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and if I don't have anything new by the end of next week, best wishes to all for a safer, happier, healthier, vaccine-receiving 2021. May our fics be excellent and our shows be good and our snacks be delicious and our social distancing be effective.