Chapter title is a lyric from the song "Family Tree," by Jewel.
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Chapter 25. Scatter in the Wind
Monday feels like a fog. A half-fog, maybe, Addison decides, because starting the day off at NYP does not feel entirely akin to an out of body or ghost-like experience. It can't be a complete fog – the pain she is experiencing is too real, too visceral. Plus, she is as brilliant and intuitive and present as ever during an open fetal surgery, skills on full display for those who scrubbed in and those observing from the gallery. She removes a tumor from the base of the baby's tailbone. The size of it was forcing the heart to work harder than it should have to, and Addison considers what a wonder it really is, a finite privilege to have a heart function just as it should. It is a successful procedure; if nothing else, at least she is good at this and knows exactly what she is doing. Half-fog. Not complete fog. And a few hours later, she can feel the fluid, stable movement of her jaw forming words, hear the sounds as she sheepishly asks for the rest of the week off, and then her limbs happen to work quite fine as she walks out of Chief Patel's office, mission accomplished.
The series of text messages Addison sends to Derek on Monday go unanswered, as do the phone calls. She practices some measure of self-restraint, but on Tuesday kicks it into overdrive, phoning repeatedly. She ends the call and tries again each time it goes to voicemail. At some point he has to answer, right?
"Addison."
"Hi," she replies when Derek's voice comes through late that afternoon. The hi is as much a greeting as it is a disbelieving gasp. She swallows, throat somehow feeling gritty because she hasn't had to speak aloud to anyone in over twenty-four hours. "You answered. Hi. Um…look, I know I'm the last person you want to talk to, but I really, really need to know where you are. Where are you? I'm trying not to bother you, but -"
"No, I know – I know you need to know," Derek interjects. "I'm in…I'm in Nebraska."
"Which one is that?" It is asked out of habit. What Addison should really be asking is Why? Why the fuck? But…habit. On one of their first dates, Derek revealed that he knew every state motto; he memorized them when he was eleven or twelve. Addison leaned closer over the table and threw out every state she could think of, and was pleasantly amused each time Derek confidently shared the answer.
"The Cornhusker State. I just pulled into a gas station."
Addison pushes her thumb to the bridge of her nose, trying to process. "Okay. Um. And is that…is that where you're just…?"
"I'm heading to Colorado. I got in the car and just started driving…and by the time I reached Pennsylvania, I started thinking about how fishing...fishing would be good right now. So I kept going on I-80. The Colorado River is supposed to be one of the best fly-fishing spots; it attracts huge trout. And I've always wanted to go there. It just...it just made sense, I guess. I couldn't…I couldn't stay in the house."
You couldn't stay in the house with me, you mean, she corrects in her head.
Addison can hear the sadness in her husband's voice, a quiver that slows down the succession of words. She doesn't expect more than that; Derek doesn't cry often, and when he does, he is quiet about it. Tremble-lipped and frozen in the shoulders, yes, but just…quiet. She remembers the first time she saw him cry: med school while prepping for step one of The Boards (she wanted to cry, too), eight hours of testing looming large over their heads. One day, during all the furious cramming to prove that they truly did understand the foundations of science, it happened to be the twelfth anniversary of Christopher Shepherd's death…and it was just too much. The groundwork of endurance cracked apart. Addison sat next to Derek with an arm draped over his shoulders while tears left a damp path on his cheeks. He was so still, so stoic though, beneath her embrace.
"You cry so quietly," she observed, unable to keep the thought to herself.
Derek coughed out a fake, exaggerated sob. "Better?" He asked. They both laughed, and then they made love on the couch later that night. Addison doesn't think of it in those terms often – it's too mushy, romance-novel sounding, especially for two people who were in their early twenties at the time and screwed with such bold enthusiasm. But that's truly, truly what it was.
"Colorado sounds nice," Addison ventures, trying to keep her voice steady. "Like a nice break. How…how long are you planning to stay there?"
"I'm not sure."
"Okay. Have you spoken to your family yet?"
"Not yet, and normally...normally I could just not say something, at least for a bit, but Nancy has texted a couple times. The girls still have colds, but I guess…I guess William never got sick. Nancy said he was pretty bummed I ended up not visiting, so…she's hoping I can FaceTime with him some night this week. And when that happens…I can say that you're fine, that you're busy or not home so you can't come to the phone, but Nancy will probably see it all over my face that I'm lying."
"And she'll see the rainbow trout hanging on a line in the background and wonder where you are," Addison says, mostly trying to joke around. It's dumb though, as she suspects that's not how fishing works (and she has no interest in finding out how it actually does work). And also, nothing is funny about this. "I only asked because…well. First, I'm not asking you to lie...whatever you want to tell your family, you can tell them…but I just wondered, I guess, because Audrey is turning five in June…and I wanted to connect with Kathleen to ask what she likes right now – at Christmas it was all about foam and slime. And I wasn't sure…I mean, if you tell your sisters what's going on, I probably shouldn't text Kathleen, or any of them. I can still send Audrey something from the both of us – a gift card would probably be easiest – but I just figured given the circumstances, it might not be…be appropriate. And I wanted to see how you felt about that." Addison cannot imagine any of Derek's sisters will want to speak to her after this. And the sad thing is, she is close to them, Nancy and Amelia in particular. She is in a text thread with Derek's sisters, and although it's been a few weeks since someone has piped up with a message for the group at-large, the communication is fairly consistent. Shepherd Ladies. Amelia added the name. It occurs to Addison though that maybe she won't be a Shepherd Lady for much longer.
And at least your mother has a valid reason to hate me now, she thinks.
Derek sighs solemnly into the phone. "Yeah. If you still…if you still want to send Audrey something from us that would be good. Thank you. I wasn't thinking about that, and I should have…I always remember her birthday since it's right after yours. The two A's."
"I'll email you the list of birthdays for everyone. Just so you have it," Addison says. She feels another round of nausea start to ravage her stomach. Derek didn't mention her birthday specifically – three days from now – but he didn't not mention it either…his statement sort of hung there, all those future unknowns suspended in the thousands of miles physically separating them. Addison is not expecting anything from him, and she doesn't care…an unacknowledged birthday feels like it's what she deserves. It's more just the reality of the situation that is upsetting, trying to grasp the painful magnitude of what the way forward will look like and what maybe not being together anymore actually means. Every birthday, every Christmas, every Thanksgiving…they have all been spent together.
"Okay," Derek responds quietly. "Thanks. That's big of you, to be…to be thinking about this stuff. And as far as telling family members…I should probably bite the bullet and tell Nancy we're spending time apart. She'll be the easiest one to tell. And then she can just do the phone tree thing or something and alert the rest of the family."
Addison exhales nervously. "We're spending some time apart before you come back home and are free to bring this up to use against me when we argue, or spending time apart as in…separated? As in, we just haven't filed for divorce yet?"
The truth is, Addison doesn't know what she wants. She just knows that it is no longer her choice, which has amplified the confusion and painful doubt. And even though she gave Derek a legitimate reason to leave, he still left, and it stings. Almost eleven years of marriage, and almost fifteen years of being together. They are each other's family.
"Addie…how are we supposed to work through this? You slept with my best friend. God, the cruelty of it…you screwed around behind my back with my best friend. You think that warrants forgiveness? You think that warrants getting back together and trying to work this out?" Derek asks. She can hear his quiet crying now.
"It could maybe warrant trying. I…I found your ring. And I just…Derek, I'm sorrier than you can possibly imagine. I need you to know that. If nothing else -"
"Do you even want to be with me? You've made it clear in the last year or two that you aren't happy. And if you really, really wanted our marriage to survive, you wouldn't have had sex with Mark in the first place, right? You're a lot of things, but…you're not thoughtless or rash. The asshole who used to be my best friend, yes. But not…not you. At least those aren't qualities I'd associate with the person I thought you were."
Now, Addison thinks. Now would be the time to tell Derek she has been thoughtless, she has been rash. But it's just…more complex than that, even though there's no disputing the characterizations. "I…I don't…" Addison stammers. How do you tell someone this? How do you tell your husband it wasn't a one-night stand? How do you properly explain how much you love him, how much he means to you, but that you're also in love his best friend? How do you tell him that you don't know what you want…that you think you want Mark more than you want him, but that you also know you aren't ready to say goodbye yet?
"This is also you trying to save face," Derek continues. "Your family…your upbringing…indiscretion they could look the other way on – and have – but divorce…probably not. Bizzy especially. She'd be furious with you."
"Derek, that's not true about…about wanting to…I love you, and I -"
"And I love you," he interrupts, a fierceness in his voice that was lacking earlier. "But not enough to…I can't. It's not enough. Addison…I just can't. Not right now. I need you to give me some space. Please. Not just Colorado-space, but…space."
"Okay." Addison inhales shakily. "I get it. I…I can do that. And I know…I know you don't want to talk to me, but would you please text me when you get to wherever it is you're headed in Colorado? Just so that I know you've arrived safely?"
"Yeah. I will. And I…I need to get going now. I want to reach a bigger city before it's dark out. Goodbye, Addison."
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Eight Years Earlier
Mark removes his free hand from his pocket while he climbs the stairs to Derek and Addison's third-floor walk-up (his other hand is wrapped tightly around the neck of a bottle of Talisker for the birthday girl). He flexes his fingers uncertainly. He probably could have begged out of this – if he told his friends about the day he had, they would understand. But, still. It's Addison's birthday, and Derek and Naomi went to a lot of effort to plan the party.
As Mark approaches 3H, he can hear laughter inside the apartment. Good, he thinks. Laughter means he's too late. Showing up is unappealing enough, but showing up in time for everyone to scream Surprise! in Addison's face would have been worse. He pauses at the door, assessing his hands again. The steadiest hands I've ever seen, the attending Mark aspires most to be like told him once. Well. Not right now. The hand holding the scotch is fine because Mark is gripping it forcefully enough that there is a purpose, a physical task to focus on. Not the other hand though. But at least the finger flexing helps to mask the shaking. He knows this tingly, relentlessly itchy feeling scaling over his skin has to be anxiety-related, but it's never happened to him before. But then, he's also never had a child die on the operating table before, either.
"Hey," Mark says when Addison approaches him, parting through a flourish of black and silver streamers. He made eye contact with her shortly after coming inside, and she excused herself from a conversation to make her way over. "Happy birthday, Red." He pulls her in for a quick hug, and touches his lips to the side of her head.
"Thank you," she chirps happily. She has some sort of fleck of cheap confetti on her shoulder, and Mark is tempted to flick it off, but he thinks it would be too obvious his hands are unsteady. "Derek and I were wondering when you'd get here. And thank you for this." She takes the bottle of scotch, and Mark quickly tucks both hands into his pockets while Addison sets the bottle down on a nearby end table.
"So...the baby is thirty."
She shakes her head. "I'm not the baby of the group. Nai was born in November."
"I meant of the three of us." Mark nods his head towards Derek, who is deep in conversation with one of their friend-colleagues. "You know, the important ones."
"Ha. Nice of you to show up on time, by the way."
"I was in the burn center and lost track of time. I warned Derek I might not make it before eight. Anyway…sorry about that. To be honest, I'm sorta glad I'm late because I don't think I would have been able to stand the look on your face when everyone shouted 'surprise' at you."
Addison's lips twitch to the side as she considers this. "What would the look on my face have been like?" She asks, genuinely curious.
"I just pictured you with a frozen grin while you tried not scream in a blind rage. But maybe it's projection…I don't like surprise parties. I swear for the ones I've been to, I've had my eyes closed when the person walks through the door so I don't have to see their reaction…even when I was a kid I was like that. Surprise parties are just so…hostile, in my opinion."
Addison starts to laugh. "Oh my God, I feel the exact same way," she says, keeping her voice quiet. "Don't tell anyone I said that though. I…I know Derek and Nai put some serious time and effort into this, and I'm happy to see everyone and obviously I'm having fun, but…yeah. I hate surprise parties, too."
"I should have – well, no. I wouldn't have told Derek not to do this, but if he asked me what I specifically thought, I would have told him that you would hate to have a surprise party. I would have bet the house on it."
Mark is right, Addison thinks. The steady diet of alcohol she has consumed this evening is blurring the sharp corners of stress at the moment, and although she is having fun, she cannot deny the resentment she initially felt twirl through her when Derek led her through the door and everyone crouched down in their darkened Murray Hill apartment popped up and startled her.
Addison smiles weakly. "You're absolutely right. You know…you know me really well, Mark."
She gave some thought to the subject of surprise parties when she went to the bathroom earlier tonight to pee but to mostly take a quick break from everyone: had surprise parties ever come up with Derek? Maybe not, Addison mused while accepting hugs and exchanging pleasantries with her guests (well, Derek and Naomi's guests, in a sense).
We've been married for almost three years now though. She thinks maybe Derek should just…know. He should know and love her well enough to know this wouldn't be what she wants. Derek knows that Addison feels an overwhelming urge to be prepared for everything, prefers smaller gatherings, and doesn't like walking into rooms that are dark. (And in this case, an on purpose, preventable kind of dark. They always leave the lamp in the corner of the living room on, even when they aren't home.)
And Nai should know I'm not a fan of surprise parties either, for that matter, Addison determines now in her need-another-drink head. But Derek is my husband. He's supposed to know me better than anyone. So how is it that Mark Sloan of all people – who thinks with his penis more than he thinks with his brain – was able to see right through me on this one?
"I guess I do know you well." Mark gives a small shrug, and his words draw Addison back to their conversation. "Hey…you can have fun tonight, but it's okay to be low-key annoyed, too. Just make sure you tell Derek at some point in the future that you'd rather not have another surprise party. You have to tell him what you want. Otherwise there's a decent change this could happen again on your fortieth."
"Good point. Oh, sorry, I should have asked sooner, but apparently Buzzed Addison's WASP-y manners have gone out the window…" she lifts her chin in the direction of the kitchen table, where an obscene amount of alcohol is displayed. "What do you want to drink? I can grab you a -"
"I lost a patient a few hours ago," Mark says quickly, before he loses his nerve. "A little kid. He came in with, just…the worst burns I've ever seen. Coded five times before he finally…" Mark shakes his head. "Sorry. I didn't want to mention that because…well. It's not really 'socializing material.' I'm only going to stay for a little bit tonight. I know the healthy choice is to be around people when shit like this happens, but -"
"No, I get it," Addison interrupts, curling her hand around his elbow. He can see the sympathy in her eyes. "Sometimes solo space to decompress is necessary. However you need to get through this is fine…it was nice of you to come at all," she says softly. "God, I'm so sorry, Mark. That's horrible."
"My hands keep shaking," he admits. He doesn't want to admit it, but Addison briefly glanced down at his forearm, so he's sure she felt the twitch that just rocked through his right arm. "That's why they're in my pockets."
"The shaking will stop. I promise. It's just nerves, and the adrenaline. The first time I lost a patient – or the first time I experienced a loss in the OR that really, really affected me, I guess – I had, like, a full-blown anxiety attack later that day. For real, I was sitting on an overturned bucket in a supply closet, crying and breathing into a paper bag. It happens." Addison's lips pleat together in a thin smile. "Even to tough guys. And…" she glances over her shoulder when she hears a few friends calling her name. One is holding up a camera, and Addison lifts an index finger – a sign for just give me a minute – in response. "Do you want to sit down and talk about it? Just us? We can go outside and get some air."
"No, it's okay. You go ahead," Mark replies. He hears Naomi (somewhat drunkenly) shout in Addison's general direction again. "Go have fun. I'll be okay. I think I'm going to head out though. I just wanted to stop by to make sure I wished you a happy birthday. I didn't want you to think I was blowing this off."
"Okay," Addison replies quietly, and he appreciates that she accepts this, that she doesn't push back and try to convince him to stay. "I'll tell Derek you had a bad loss today. And we'll both text you later to check in. And seriously, Mark: if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you. But, you are right about one thing: you will be okay. And tomorrow will be better. It usually is."
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"Mark?"
"Yeah?" He mumbles distractedly, still eyeing the text he received from Addison a few minutes ago, rather than focusing on the paper his receptionist just pushed across his desk: Are you able to come over tonight? I miss you and I don't want to be alone right now.
Lynette clucks her tongue in feigned annoyance. "Don't just 'yeah' me. Head up. Eye contact."
"Sorry." Mark grins weakly and peers up at Lynette. "What were you saying?"
"I was just asking what Princess wants."
Mark rolls his eyes, even though Lynette's tone came across as soft and non-judgmental. He's never heard her call Addison that before though (and he's heard her call Addison plenty of things).
"How do you know it's her?" He asks. Lynette knows what happened on Saturday, of course. Mark feels bad for sharing it, but it's Lynette. He tells her everything, and it's not like she's going to repeat it. Besides, it's only a matter of time before Addison tells Naomi or the blonde one – it's nickname-ish and starts with a S, but Mark hasn't seen her in a few years and naturally has forgotten. Maybe Addison has already told them, actually.
It has been four days since Derek walked in on them.
"I can tell because it's the look you get when you see it's from her," Lynette tells him. "It's as much adorable as it is…well...sad. And then you zone out, and just end up responding in the affirmative to anything I say. I should have used this opportunity to tell you I was taking the next two weeks off…rather than asking about Addison."
Mark chuckles. "I would miss you too much…but if you want to come in a little later tomorrow, that's fine. I can open things up. I appreciate you staying late to help with this invoice and behind-the-scenes stuff."
"It's not a problem. And don't worry about it – I'll be here bright and early."
"Thanks. And to answer your question…Princess wants me to go over there and spend the night."
"Mm." Lynette clears her throat. "And what is it that you are going to do?"
"I am going to remember that she's in pain, and has no idea what she wants right now. I am going to be understanding and supportive, but I also need to be honest with her about what it is that I want." Mark offers Lynette a strained look after finishing off the recitation she drilled into him yesterday, whether he wanted it drilled or not. He knew she wasn't asking about his specific plans for the rest of tonight. "Did I leave anything out?"
"Nope. You've got it. Just remember to take care of yourself, too. Not just her. But think of healthy ways to take care of yourself, Mark...not your usual shenanigans."
He looks back at the text once Lynette has left to go home: Are you able to come over tonight? I miss you and I don't want to be alone right now.
Is it one more than the other? Mark wants to ask. He always ends up being emotional...sustenance for Addison, or something. But he has accepted this, surrendered to it, because even though it's always Addison's call – when he comes and when he stays and when he goes – his desire to be near her is just too strong.
Mark arrives at the brownstone around nine. He doesn't knock; shortly after he said he'd come, he received a follow-up text from Addison letting him know the front door is unlocked and she's upstairs. He locks the door behind him and inhales deeply before making his ascent. He feels funny. He wants to sleep with her – actually sleep – but he doesn't want it to happen in the master bedroom.
"I'm in here," Addison calls out when she hears Mark reach the top of the stairs. He realizes that her voice is coming from the guest room, not the master. It feels fitting. No matter what happens, he will always be a guest in this house, won't he? Maybe in her life, too.
Mark finds her already in bed, facing towards the door. The main light is off, but there is a floor lamp in the corner that is on, and the neighboring lights winking off buildings and landmarks in Central Park West illuminate her face.
"I probably should have mentioned that was where I was," Addison tells him. "I can go in the bedroom and do stuff, but I can't sleep in there right now. It's too...it's just too much. Anyway. Hi." Her hand tips towards Mark, gesturing to his attire. He always dresses a little more professionally on the days he isn't at the hospital. "You look nice."
"Oh, thanks. I stayed late at the practice. Lynette and I had dinner and then put in a few more hours…billing stuff we've been slacking on. I came straight here. I'll try to be quiet when I slip out tomorrow. I'll have to leave kinda early since I didn't bring a change of clothes or anything."
Addison's mouth stretches into a smile, and he follows the parentheses of her laugh lines. "I'd offer up something of Derek's, but I think borrowing his wife was enough," she manages to joke. "Plus his pants would probably end up stopping above your ankles. There are dentist freebie toothbrushes in the bathroom down the hall though."
"Okay, great. And, look…" Mark sits down on the edge of the bed, body twisted towards her. "I know you don't need any shit from me right now, but can you start being a grownup and locking your front door?" His hand settles over her blanket-covered thigh, fingertips tenderly stroking her muscles.
"I would have locked it if you weren't able to come. If I locked it on my way upstairs though…I'm not convinced I would have made it back down when you knocked. I'm too comfy here." Addison smirks. "So you should be thanking me, for making sure you weren't locked out. Sorry though; you're right, of course. I'll be more careful from now on."
"Jenny locked me out once," Mark murmurs, feeling the memory unspool before him. "I was five or six, I think. I was playing in the backyard, and door was like half-opened, and when Jenny walked by, she shut it all the way and locked it; she didn't realize I was out there. I remember hearing the vacuum – Jenny liked vacuuming – and I kept banging on the door. It felt like forever, but I'm sure it was only minutes before she realized where I was. I really only remember because when Jenny opened the door and let me in and said how sorry she was…she said something about a rabbit. That's what I thought, at least. And I became, like, ridiculously hysterical, because I didn't want a pet rabbit. I wanted a dog. She told me that she said 'habit' – locking the door was a habit, not a rabbit. Then she started laughing, and whenever she laughed, I laughed, too. I don't know why I…" he shrugs, a little embarrassed. "Something about your phrasing, maybe. It just reminded of that."
"You must have been the cutest kid," Addison says. She's seen a few photographs here and there of an elementary school-aged Mark with Derek that line the dated wallpaper of her mother-in-law's home, but most of these snapshots have faded over time behind the glass, their edges now blurred like ghosts.
"Probably the most annoying one, too. You know, Jenny sort of…snuck up on me, sometimes. Not in a 'boo' or nightmare surprise party way, but just…who she was, I guess. There were always times where I thought maybe she didn't want me – or not me, specifically, just that she didn't really want kids, that it wasn't her 'plan' to ever become a mom. But then…she'd always prove me wrong. It was little things, like the yearly lake trip. And balloons. Like, she didn't want to throw birthday parties because she said children's play places were dirty – she probably wasn't wrong – and she didn't want all my classmates and their parents in our house, but when I was a kid, I would wake up on my birthday and the floor would be covered in balloons she put in there. She could always make me laugh. And she never had a bad word to say about anyone. I mean, yeah, she had addiction problems and she would leave me alone at night, and that's screwed up, but I'd watch her before she left, and she'd go around and carefully check that every single door was locked. I don't know." Mark shrugs again. "She just surprised me, sometimes. I always thought she was one thing, but sometimes she was another thing."
Addison grins thoughtfully. "That's sort of how you are, too, Mark. You snuck up on me. And I…I wish I could have met your mom," she adds. The wedding would have been the opportune time, but Derek hadn't invited Jenny and Everett. I checked with Mark, but he said no, Derek told Addison with an unbothered wave of his hand. Bizzy had been hounding her to hound Derek for the names and addresses of who to invite on the groom's side. Which is what I figured he'd say. Jenny and Everett aren't the kind of people who go to the weddings of their kid's friends…even when it happens to be their kid's best friend.
"She would have loved you." Mark know it's true. Jenny seemed to make an effort to like just about anyone, but with Addison…Mark is certain his mother would have genuinely adored her.
"Come in here with me," Addison says quietly while she pulls the covers back. Mark nods, and he works to slip out of his loafers, and divest himself of his pants and dress shirt. "I've missed you," she tells him when he joins her under the blanket, left in cotton knit boxers and a white undershirt. "I know it's only been three days, but...but yeah."
"I missed you, too." Mark settles his pillow close to hers and lies on his side, facing her. He rubs his hand over her waist, and he swears he can feel her whole body sag in relief at his touch. "You know...you should come over Friday, and stay over. I don't want you to be alone on your birthday, Addie."
She lifts an eyebrow. "You remembered?"
"I mean, you told me pretty recently…" Mark smirks. "I know remembering birthdays isn't my strong suit, but I definitely don't get kudos for recalling something you told me last Friday." He raises his hand from her waist to her shoulder, briefly sliding it under her shirt sleeve. He recognizes the shirt she is wearing, one that clashes with her floral pajama bottoms. It's a Bowdoin College shirt with now-peeling letters, one from Derek's undergrad days. He wishes she would wear something else.
Last Friday. Mark knows she's thinking about it, because he is, too. Last Friday: the last day things were normal. The last day their lives were still intact.
Addison gives him a faint smile. "There's no surprise party, right?"
"No. And I'll cancel the band and return the decorations," he jokes.
"Okay, yeah. I'll…I'll come over," Addison decides, smiling wider. She nudges at his shoulder, and he takes the hint and rolls onto his back so that she can lean forward to rest her head on his chest. "Thank you for asking me. And maybe…maybe we can just order-in or something? Italian, maybe?"
"Sure. Sounds good."
"I wish your grownup nightlight was here. Does it…" she points a finger towards the floor lamp in the corner, still spraying a muted halo of light. "Does it bother you that the light is still on?"
"No, it's fine."
Addison's fingertips pleat gently over the top of his shoulder, and Mark can feel the way they tremble, light vibrations through the material of his shirt. She draws in a nervous breath.
"Mark? Have I...have I ruined your life?" Her tone stays the same, as though she is again asking about the brass lamp. Mark remembers it. Addison and Derek have had it for years; he thinks maybe it was Addison's first though, that she brought it with her when they moved in together. She and Derek have been a unit for so long that, even though it is a little inane, it still vaguely surprises Mark when he thinks about the fact that Addison once had an entire life before she met Derek. Before she met him, too. The threads that braided the three of them together were not always there.
"No," Mark tells her. His chest tightens at the question. He feels such an urge to adjust their positions, to get on top of her and kiss her senseless and move inside her and drive her hips into the mattress with enough force that such a question gets wiped from her mind. He doesn't though, because that would be both too easy and too hard. Sex always brings them together. It's finding a way to navigate the love part that is the challenge. "No, of course not, Red. I knew the risk, when I slept with you, and when I kept sleeping with you. That was my choice. I kind of turn into an idiot around you, but it was still a conscious decision, and I've been making that decision every day since last fall. It doesn't mean that I don't..." Mark sighs. "Look, he's my best friend. He's been my best friend since I was six years old, and he's my family, but the thing is, you're...you're kind of my family too. I'm sorry for hurting him – I never won't be sorry for that. And I know I can't ever be friends with Derek again, not unless he decides to forgive me...and he doesn't really have to forgive me. And maybe that in and of itself is supposed to be a life-ruining thing...but I don't regret the time I've had with you, so I feel like when I think about it that way...no, Addison. You didn't ruin my life. You couldn't ruin my life."
Mark wants to ask her in return, Have I ruined yours? Or is there no starting over and building something out of the ruined-life ruins? But he doesn't.
"Have you heard anything more from Derek?" He asks cautiously. Addison told him over text yesterday about the cross-country fishing trip, the destination Derek was heading for. "I'm assuming he's there by now?" Mark sees the look of sadness settle on her face. He hates to ask, because he knows it hurts her. But it hurts him not to know. It's different, yes, but Addison is not the only one who lost someone.
"Yeah. He's arrived in the…the Centennial State. That's all I know. I'm trying to give him space. And even if I wasn't trying...he's not exactly eager to respond to me. I don't think...I don't think he's coming back."
"There's no way that's true, Red. Once you live in Manhattan, you're genetically designed to dislike everywhere else, right?"
Addison twists a little to face him, the point of her chin balanced on his chest. "I don't know," she answers, breathing in deeply. "It feels like...like when people get divorced or whatever, their friends take sides, you know? This is sort of like that, but with cities. I don't think Derek wants to be in the same city as me anymore, or...or anywhere near me. But mostly I just know that he…he's not here and he...he doesn't want me. He doesn't want me anymore."
"I do," Mark responds, voice low. His hand is soft when he moves it forward to cradle her cheek. He watches Addison's eyes, the subtle back-and-forth movement as she considers the significance of his words. Maybe it's the light falling off the high-rises in the distance, or the artificial glow from the corner of the room, but Addison's eyes look greener tonight, more green than blue. She still has the faint flares of yellow ringing her pupils, and usually when Mark is this close to her it makes him think of early morning sunlight cutting through the languid waves at Skaneateles Lake. Not now though. Tonight, he just sees the brokenness, the residual hurt. "I want you, Addison," he adds, feeling terrified at the admission – even though she already knows this – and also wondering if it is selfish to put this on her right now. He's just trying to be honest though. He sees her try to smile, try so fucking hard. The muscles of her cheek quiver beneath Mark's palm from the effort.
"I – I want you too," Addison replies, voice shaky. The corners of her mouth tilt up, just a little. It's as close as she can get to a smile, but then her eyes fill with tears and the hint of a smile ghosts away. "Sorry. I'm just…" she turns her head, resting it flush to his chest again. "I'm just really, really sad right now." Her voice rises at the end, as though it is a question, as though she is contemplating the degree to which she is allowed to feel sad that one man stayed and one man left. That one man wants her and one man does not.
"I know. I know you are," Mark murmurs when she starts to cry. "And I'm going to hold you while you're sad, okay?" His arms wrap around her tighter. He has no idea how to fix any of this, but he knows this is what she needs right now. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry you're hurting, Red."
And I'm sorry, he thinks. He can feel her tears soaking through his shirt, and can feel her hands shaking as she draws them closer to her mouth, attempting to muffle the hiccupping noises she is releasing. Mostly, Mark can feel his heart breaking for her, and for himself, too. I'm sorry that the life you had isn't really your life anymore.
. .
References/Nods to Various Episodes
Just a few this time:
Grey's 1x02. Derek: "I'm from New York. Genetically engineered to dislike everywhere, except Manhattan." And then Derek again, Grey's 2x05: "I was married for 11 years. Addison is my family. That is 11 Thanksgivings, 11 birthdays, and 11 Christmases." (I'm coming up on their 11th anniversary in this fic, and Thanksgiving and Christmas haven't happened, so I guess in that sense I may have messed up, but fuck it, it's Grey's. Timelines are always optional.)
(Also, Derek is still heading to Seattle, just FYI) (Also, and this doesn't fit here, but I keep forgetting to mention it: I'm going somewhere with the Jenny stuff. I'm not outright hiding anything or being ~mysterious~, but I'm also not directly saying anything just yet…sort of like how the Bizzy storyline played out) (And Lynette eventually comes around re: Addison, but I think you all already suspected that)
Grey's, 2x03. Addison to Derek, going over the three-but-really-only-two options they have: "Option one. I could apologize. You could forgive me and come home and we could move on with our lives like adults. Or: option two. I could apologize. You could forgive me, come home, but you can still bring it up to use against me whenever we argue."
Addison hates surprises, including surprise parties (mentioned in PP season 5). Mark feels similarly, per Grey's 6x08: "Surprise parties are hostile. They're dark. People jump out and scream at you. They never come to any good."