Chapter title is a lyric from "Aperture," by Sleeping At Last.

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Chapter 26. Where Echoes Come to Rest

Mark wakes up first on Thursday, well before the alarm on his phone is set to go off. He can feel the warmth of Addison next to him, even though they are no longer touching. He blinks languidly, observing the distant skyline outside the window. The sun has not completely broken the horizon yet; time feels halted between light and dark. He counts to ten, and then eases out of bed to wash his face and brush his teeth. When he comes back into the guest room a few minutes later, his movements cause Addison to stir.

"Are you leaving?" Addison asks quietly, voice raspy with slumber as she looks at Mark over her shoulder. She tugs the comforter up past her chin, working to conceal the threat of morning breath.

"Soon." Mark joins her back under the comforter and fits himself against her. "You can share my body heat for a few more minutes." He drapes an arm over her waist. "Did you sleep okay?" He suspects the answer is no. It took Addison a long time to stop crying last night.

"As okay as I can manage to right now," she answers honestly. "It helps though, having you here. Thank you, Mark. I know that…I know that none of this is easy on you. I'm sure you've just about hit the end of your emotional bandwidth when it comes to me."

"I'm fine, Red."

"Well. You're trying to be fine," she gently corrects. "I might be the wife, but Derek still…he left you, too. And I'm really sorry for that."

"It's okay," Mark responds. "It's…it's gonna be okay, Red."

He left you. It makes Mark think of when he and Derek were starting to apply to colleges. Derek's top choice was Bowdoin – it always had been. And Mark's top choice was definitely not Bowdoin. It was hard for him to imagine not being anywhere near his best friend, but nothing about Maine nor the campus itself appealed to him. It felt too rural, too small. He was worried about feeling isolated.

But he applied anyway.

Mark remembers how weird he and Derek were with one another around that time, how close to the vest they kept the list of schools they were interested in going to. Yes, they each had a general idea of what colleges the other was applying to, but they spoke in generalities – such-and-such is probably one of the more attainable Ivy options, such-and-such has a good pre-med program, such-and-such is a party school. It was like they were underclassmen just thinking ahead, not actually submitting applications. But competition always colored the margins of their friendship, and neither wanted the other to know about his personal disappointments.

Mark had already been accepted to UPenn and a handful of other universities by the time a rejection letter from Bowdoin arrived.

You don't really want to go there anyway, Mark reminded himself, mortified that he could feel his throat tightening as a precursor to tears. You just don't want to be left behind.

"No it's not," Addison tells him now, restless in his embrace. "It's not going to be okay. Not anytime soon, at least."

Her sadness fits in his arms. Except when it doesn't.

"Right. Not anytime soon," Mark repeats. He can see more sunlight now, muted gold bands of it brightening the room. It would be so easy to just go back to sleep, to stay pressed against her. "I should probably get going…" he murmurs, forcing himself to prop up on an elbow before he sinks in to the temptation. "I'll see you tomorrow night though, right?"

"Mm-hmm," Addison mumbles sleepily. "Drive safe."

He kisses her ear in response. "I'll be sure to pass your message along to my driver."

. .
. .

Five Years Earlier

"Tell him to drive safe, please!" Addison calls to Derek over her shoulder as she walks back out to the porch, two glasses of lemonade in hand. "Here you go." She smiles at Amy, who is comfortably seated in one of the navy-washed rocking chairs and working her way through a book about Cambridge. Amy is determined to learn as much as she can about the area; she starts med school at Harvard in six weeks' time. "You know…" Addison adds thoughtfully while her sister-in-law closes her book and takes one of the drinks with an appreciative smile. "The Hamptons looks good on you."

"I do like it here," Amy admits. "Something about the fresh air. Maybe I'll live somewhere beachy one day. When I'm making the big neurosurgeon bucks…and hopefully married to or with someone rich who can pay off my med school loans while I make the big neurosurgeon bucks. Derek showed me tonight's dinner on his way inside, by the way. I can't believe you let him bring trout in the house."

"Picking my battles," Addison says with a faint smile. "Derek chose not to engage in the battle of getting a Hamptons house – you know he'd rather have some sort of cabin in the backwoods of Vermont or something. So if he wants to do fish-cleaning stuff here in the kitchen once in a while, I can tolerate it…as long as I'm outside while it's happening, he cleans up afterwards, and the garbage is taken out immediately. Oh, and speaking of dinner: Derek just told me that Mark is going to come for dinner and then stay the night."

"You don't…look happy about that."

Addison hurriedly shakes her head to assure Amy this is not the case. "Oh, no – I am," she says. "I didn't mean to make a face. It's more just where to put Mark. Hopefully he won't mind crashing on the couch. You're still young and supple, so you can probably sleep anywhere, but at the ripe age of thirty-four, I promise you: things change once you're out of your twenties. If I were to have a different sleeping arrangement for just one night, my back would be a wreck for a week."

"Well, Mark can always crash next to me. Or…" Amy briefly glances back towards the front door, and is careful to keep her voice down. "Or on top of me. You've seen the guy, right?" Amy shrugs when she sees Addison tense, no doubt in preparation to discourage this line of thinking. "I'm just kidding. I'm sure he won't mind the couch. It would be coming full circle though if I slept with him. But I won't, I swear – don't look so worried." Amy reaches out to squeeze Addison's hand, chilling her palm from the condensation weeping down her drinking glass. She understands the worried expression, of course, because she and Addison are thinking the same thing: sleeping with her brother's best friend wouldn't be the healthy choice, and Amy has been trying her hardest for the last four years to make healthy choices, especially when it comes to the company she keeps. "I'm just saying."

"Full circle how?"

"Full circle for Mark, I mean. Nancy, Liz, and Kate have all slept with him before. Sooo if he slept with me too, he'd have nailed all the Shepherd sisters. Well. Not you, I guess. But all the biologically-related Shepherd sisters."

"Three out of five Shepherd ladies," Addison says wryly. "Not too shabby. So what's next after your book about your future stomping grounds?" She nods towards a second book under Amy's chair, most of its cover and spine blocked by a chair leg.

"Oh, I've read that one before. I just like it so I tend to bring it with me. It's like a literary security blanket or something. It covers a collection of words that don't have a direct English translation…with pretty illustrations. You'd probably love it since you're such a nerd. There's this German word – fernweh – that basically means 'far-sickness.' So…longing for far-off places. And I don't think it necessarily has to be a real place. Or a place at all. You know, Addie…I am doing well, and this isn't a cry for help, but do you ever wonder if there's just…more out there than what you currently have?" She leans towards Addison. "I've already got myself hooked up with a therapist in Cambridge in case I feel like I need one and I researched the closest meeting location to my future apartment…but just…I don't know. Maybe I'm hitting my quarter-life crisis early as a result of having pretty much lived in a library for the past four years. I just need you to tell me it's not just me, even if it's a lie."

"It's not just you, Amy. It's human nature to think about things like this. So sometimes, yeah, I do feel that way," Addison replies. It's the polite, reassuring thing to say; no one wants to be the only one who is feeling a certain way. But there is a part of Addison that does wonder from time to time…is this it? "And hey, I want you to feel like you can say things to me without preempting them by saying that you're still okay, that you're still sober. I'll always worry a little bit because I love you, but -"

"And because you're just a worrier anyway."

Addison grins weakly at Amy's accurate assessment. "Yes. But I'm just trying to say…I love you, and you don't ever need to feel like you have to explain yourself to me. I'm not judging you."

"I know you're not. Everyone else seems to, but not you. So the words and disclaimers are just…" Amy shrugs. "Habitual noise, I guess."

"Probably something worth exploring if you decide to see that therapist."

"Mm, yeah. But thank you for saying sometimes, even if you don't really mean it."

Sometimes.

Amazing husband. Amazing career. Amazing home and amazing vacation home. And lots of other things in the life Addison shares with her husband that could be preceded by the word amazing. Oh, she's grateful and fulfilled. Of course she is. And happy. But there is a part of her that agrees with Amy's assessment: this can't be it. And it does sometimes strike, despite the beautiful life she has carved out and the immense privilege she has never lacked for a moment: there is still a wistful, malaise-like feeling that she has never quite been able to translate.

She whispers fernweh, too muted for Amy to hear. The word tastes more bitter on her tongue than lemonade.

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The word is spreading.

When Mark contacts Addison on Thursday night to see how she is doing and confirm their plans for tomorrow, she doesn't tell him about the text messages she received from Derek's sisters this morning – evidently, Derek told them the truth at some point within the last twenty-four hours.

It hurts too much to try to share this with anyone, to speak the pain aloud; the family Addison has created by way of marrying Derek is already beginning to splinter away. Three of the four sisters texted her within minutes of each other. (There is radio silence from Liz, which doesn't surprise Addison. Liz is the least likely to engage in conflict. And also nothing from Carolyn, which also doesn't produce any feelings of surprise.)

Kathleen: I always wondered if you had a cold, calculating side…I guess I was right.

Addison didn't respond. The words were hurtful, but she didn't feel they were necessarily without merit. And she knows that she can at least comfort herself with the thought that she could easily say the same exact thing about Kathleen. Honestly, she's pretty sure Amelia has said something like this about Kathleen before.

She put a birthday gift in the mail for Audrey – Kathleen's daughter – that afternoon anyway, and signed both hers and Derek's names in the card. Addison's stomach felt heavy at the thought of sending Audrey something from the both of them when they really aren't a them anymore, but at least she is off this specific hook for a bit. All those nieces and nephews, and yet Nancy's fourth child – a girl, due in early August – will be the first one to have a summer birthday.

Addison was starting to consider how many times she has left to write Aunt Addie, when she received another text message, this time from Nancy: My kids really picked the wrong weekend to get sick, didn't they?

Nancy's text was accompanied by a series of emojis: first the head-exploding one (this almost, almost coaxed a smile onto Addison's face), followed by a broken-heart one and then an intact red heart in the next text bubble. Addison responded with a simple heart emoji. And then came one more response from Nancy: I hope you are able to have a good birthday despite everything going on.

And then Amelia: I heard what happened. I love you. Do you need anything?

Addison thanked Amelia for asking, and was somehow able to convey in a few follow-up texts that she didn't want to talk about it further, or at least not yet. The message from Amelia did surprise Addison. Not the words…Amelia is kind and always open to the idea that each side has a story. And she already caught Addison and Mark once – the shock the rest of the Shepherd sisters must have felt from Derek's revelation wouldn't have affected Amelia in same way. But the words still carry a graciousness that extends far, far beyond what Addison feels she deserves.

She is keeping the truth from Savvy for a bit longer. This is fairly easy to do because Savvy – working with both the brain of an attorney and the brain of someone who has common sense – is wise enough to not put anything in writing that could reveal some pretty frowned-upon things regarding Addison's choices. And they mostly communicate through texts anyway; it's the sort of friendship where if one were to pick up the phone and actually call, the other one would immediately think, Oh my God, something's happened. Savvy asks Addison about her birthday plans though. Addison tells her that she (the we is sort of implied) is just doing a "quiet night in," but agrees to a details-to-be-decided-later dinner next week. We probably need to catch up on some non-Phoebe topics, Savvy wrote, stopping just short of admissible evidence.

Yes. Yes, they do.

But Addison can only fracture so much at a time.

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Twenty-Six Years Earlier

Julie Hanover. Twelve-year-old Addison watches suspiciously as the leggy blonde with green eyes the color of garden sage comes back over to the table that Addison, Archer, and the Captain are seated at. It is Julie's third time coming over. Addison notices how confidently Julie weaves around tables and pushed-out chairs (the restaurant is particularly crowded today), her movements graceful and quiet, but still somehow attention-drawing. But maybe the attention-drawing is just because Julie is pretty. Addison figures that's why so many heads are turning. The Captain's included.

The tennis instructor with the legs, Addison remembers Bizzy saying to Mrs. Silverman once. She was walking into the drawing room to retrieve her sheet music, and got the sense it wasn't something she was meant to hear. Julie was Addison's tennis instructor for a few weeks, before Marcel arrived. Addison just knows that one day Julie was there and then the next day Marcel was. And that was that. She sometimes sees Julie at this restaurant though – a clubhouse, technically – when the Captain brings her and her brother here after sailing on the Sound.

"Hi again," Julie says to the Captain. She rests one of her hands on the top rail of the Captain's chair, fingertips close to brushing his back. "I was just about to go to the bar to get another drink from Tony. Do you need another vodka tonic? Lime and no ice, right?" Her eyes sweep over the table and she notices Addison's glass. "Would you like a refill on your Shirley Temple, sweetheart?" She asks with a big, kind smile.

"No, thank you. Are you…" Addison looks at Julie, but she tilts her head in the Captain's direction. "Are you his whore?"

Julie draws in a surprised gasp, and she quickly removes her way-too-comfortable hand off the chair. A flush crosses over her cheeks. And then Addison turns to look at her father. She heard him drop his fork – which clattered against his plate and drew a few stares from the next table over – but she was too interested in watching Julie's immediate reaction to watch for the Captain's. Next to her, thirteen-year-old Archer has tucked his chin down to his chest. He is starting to shake from the effort it is taking to suppress his laughter.

Are you his whore? Of course Addison knows it's not right to ask that. She knows what a whore is (sort of). But she said it anyway. It's for the same reason she yanked a few petals off Bizzy's tulips a few months ago and sometimes plays "Toccata in G minor" faster than her piano instructor likes, and sometimes feels a funny thrill in her stomach when she decides not to loosen the main sail quick enough, which leaves her father's sailboat pitted helplessly against the wind. She is a good girl though. She knows that. There are just…impulses, once in a while. To say the wrong thing. To do the wrong thing. To be the wrong thing.

"Addison Adrianne. Apologize to Ms. Hanover right now, and then go wait outside."

"Yes, Daddy," she says. Daddy. She rarely calls him that anymore. Captain was a part of her familial language for as long as she can remember, but Daddy was still sprinkled in there a lot. Not as much lately though. "I'm sorry, Ms. Hanover." She is able to hold eye contact for just a moment, but then she hangs her head. Shame colors Addison's face now. That was really mean, she thinks, feeling bad. She hears Julie mumble something that sounds like going to get that drink.

"Archer…" the Captain says as he gets to his feet. "Take your sister outside while I…handle the bill. And while I apologize to Ms. Hanover. And Addison…we will discuss this later, young lady."

"Addie…Addie…" Archer says when they get outside the clubhouse. He is laughing now, so loudly that he is starting to gasp for breath. "Addie, why would you say that?"

"You said that's what she was," Addison retorts, voice coming out shrill and defensive. Her eyes fill with tears.

Archer shrugs. "Yeah, under my breath. When the Captain was over at the next table talking with Julie and the Pruitts. You can't say that out loud."

Addison starts to cry. "I hate him," she chokes out. Embarrassed. She feels embarrassed (even though she brought this on herself). Ever since she turned twelve, that word has been a regular part of her daily life. She wonders if other twelve-year-old girls feel embarrassed as often as she does.

"You probably shouldn't say that one out loud, either."

"But I do hate him, Archie. Maybe not him, but I hate the things he does. We always have to do this. We have to act like it's normal that he spends so much time with Julie and other ladies. I don't even know why we call him Captain. Captains are supposed to be good leaders. And fair. And kind."

"Well…I guess we could start calling him by his first name. Walter is funny-sounding though, isn't it? Walllll-ter. Walllll-terrrrr." Archer's lips pucker in a way that makes Addison think of a goldfish as he exaggerates the sound. This makes her giggle. "By the way…have you ever read The Scarlet Letter?" He adds.

"No." Addison is still sniffling, but her interest lifts at this. It is rare for a book to be referenced that she hasn't read. Especially once that Archer has apparently read and she hasn't.

"We're reading it in Mrs. Ames's class. There's a part in it where Roger says that 'we dream in our waking moments and walk in our sleep.' It made me think of you."

"Why?"

"Not sure."

Addison frowns. "In a…bad way?"

"No," Archer says. "I barely pay attention during Literature. It just made me think of you, that's all. It's not meant to be an insult, Addie. But…it's gonna be okay. I'll tell the Captain the truth: you only called Julie a whore because I said it first."

"You didn't make me say it, Archie. You don't have to do that."

"It doesn't matter."

"I knew it was wrong to say it," Addison admits sheepishly. "I just…I wanted to say it. Oh, and…here he comes." She nods in the Captain's direction. He is smiling widely, but Addison figures that is only because there are other people nearby.

"Yep. And so it goes…" Archer murmurs.

(It was another two years before she recognized that particular reference.)

"Is everything okay out here?" The Captain asks.

"Everything is fine," Archer replies. "Captain, Addie only said that because I told her to. And I feel horrible about it."

Addison looks over at her brother, who starts to laugh again.

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. .

"Hi." Mark opens the door for Addison on Friday night, and gestures for her to come inside. "Happy twenty-fifth birthday."

"Yes." Addison grins weakly as they make their way into the kitchen. "For thirteen years in a row now. Oh…" she notices a bouquet of colorful zinnias, daisies, mums, and unruly greenery poking out of a vase on Mark's counter. "Are those for me?"

"They're beautiful," she says when Mark nods in confirmation. "Thank you. I love that you always pick messy ones." And then Addison sees the quick-but-subtle shift in Mark's features before the customary smile comes. She knows what it is now – months of intimacy has helped her to see the shadows of his vulnerability. It's a callback to the little boy who was loved, but probably could have been loved better, because children who were loved enough – or loved without the launch pad of dysfunction – don't question whether they were wanted. If they were good enough. "No, Mark – that's a good thing. They're so beautiful. I love them. I'd rather have this than a bouquet of roses. Really, I would. That's what I'm trying to say. 'Messy' wasn't the right word. I just like that this time and the other time you got me flowers that you went with something less traditional." She can see the relief flooding over his face when she finishes explaining.

"I get it," he says with a shy grin. "I guess I am sort of drawn to the messier ones. Jenny liked to get arrangements from flower shops that look like this – she always had them in the house. I'm glad you like them, Red. You're kind of a tough person to buy for. I couldn't really think of what to get you, other than flowers…"

"You don't have to get me anything else. It was nice enough that you invited me over. Flowers are just a bonus."

"I actually…I kind of thought about getting you a galaxy nightlight, but I thought it would send the wrong message."

Addison's eyebrows scrunch together as confusion settles over her features. "What do you mean? What message?"

Mark takes a deep, steadying breath. "Well, you really only need one nightlight per room…and it's just that…I already have one in my room, and I thought that maybe…maybe you'd want to come stay with me." And then Mark catches himself. No. It's not direct enough. "I want you to come stay with me, Addison."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really. Stay with me. I want you to."

"Okay…okay," Addison answers softly. "Okay, yeah. I'd like to. But…I'll have to go back-and-forth a lot. I have the utmost respect for women who plan out their outfits the night before, but I'm not one of them. And…just…all my stuff is at home…"

"I know," Mark says. "It's fine. Go back-and-forth as much as you need to."

At home. Addison saw the passing flash of hurt again. But…Mark said stay. Not move in with me. Not live with me. She's mincing his words in her head, she knows that, but she's fragile and vulnerable right now; she can only handle so much at a time. Plus, she's still married. It feels like it would be unfair to Mark. And maybe to her, too.

Addison takes a deep breath and twines her fingers through his. She raises their hands, chest height. It looks, unintentionally, like they are both surrendering. To something. Maybe to each other. Addison is not sure.

"What are you thinking?" Mark asks. He pulls, just a little, so that there are four hands now gathered on his chest.

"I'm thinking that I want it to just be us…together. You and me. But…my life blew up last week. I don't have my footing anymore and the word 'okay' no longer means anything. I don't know how much…" Addison's eyes dart nervously under his gaze. She is unsure how to explain any of this. "I'm just…I'm doing the best I can right now," she finally adds.

"I know you are. And I'm not asking for answers or decisions, Red. I'm just asking you to stay with me. That's all."

Addison leans forward to place a chaste kiss on Mark's lips. "Will you cook for me sometimes if I stay here?" She is joking, but…also not joking. She can cook – or at least competently follow a recipe, save for the infamous Hotdog Thanksgiving – but Mark can cook. He is on a whole other level when it comes to culinary skills. Addison figures that it is a combination of years of bachelorhood and the self-satisfaction that comes from knowing all the things his hands are capable of.

"Absolutely."

"A few weeks ago I came over after work and I hadn't eaten since breakfast. You heated something up for me. Carbonara florentine, I think it was? I swear I've fantasized about you making it again."

Mark smirks. "And what exactly am I wearing in this fantasy of yours?"

Addison thinks about their first time when they are in bed together later that night. The way he looked at her. The way he touched her. The things he said. You're beautiful…and I want to fuck you. Unapologetic and unromantic, and it thrilled her to no end. Those words are still the case with Mark – clearly that's still the case, because right now he's guiding one of her legs up near his shoulder and steadying himself above her. Addison moans quietly when he thrusts inside her.

But it's different now, too. She creates other variants in her head. She has become something of a saver when it comes to memories of their time together, so it is an easy task to combine tonight's words with things Mark has told her before. You're beautiful and I love you. You're beautiful and you're all I ever think about. You're beautiful and I want you to stay with me. You're beautiful and I don't want to lose you.

Addison whispers that she loves him when he glides a hand down to where their bodies are linked. His fingers are strong and insistent, and it doesn't take long until she is groaning into his neck. Mark collapses on top of her as he finishes, panting heavily as the tension leaves his body. She sighs close to his ear in response, enjoying the light pulses she can still feel inside her.

Mark's weight above her – Addison can tell he is too exhausted to move just yet – should feel like a prison trapping her in place, or suffocating at the very least, but it feels like freedom, actually. Somehow. She could be great with him, if she could figure out how. If she could just let herself.

If she could just let go.

Addison closes her eyes. It feels like she is dreaming and awake all at once with him.

. .
. .

References/Nods to Various Episodes

Not too many this time!

Grey's, season 1: Derek tells Meredith that he has nine nieces and five nephews. And congratulations to me for remembering that I mentioned Nancy was pregnant back in chapter 10, because I definitely almost forgot about that. And I guess there was technically a reference in here to Derek bringing trout into the trailer/house.

Grey's 2x18, Mark to Addison: "He doesn't know how we felt? He doesn't know you stayed with me after he left?" And Grey's 3x05, Addison to Derek: "It wasn't a one-night stand. I was in love with [Mark]…or at least I thought I was. After you left, we lived together for two months." (And oh man, KW's face in that entire 3x05 scene)

I've recapped the Amelia stuff a ton before, so Ctrl + F if you want more info on her PP/Grey's backstory. Amelia always went by Amy before she told Addison in PP that she goes by Amelia now, so I try to honor that throughout this story.

Captain stuff: 1) his drink of choice was a vodka tonic with lime, no ice (PP, 3x08 – Addison pre-ordered his drink, and said she has known how to make it since she was eight years old); 2) he did sleep with a woman Addison referred to as "the tennis instructor with the legs." And, 3) the show never revealed what the Captain's first name was. I have no issues with the name Walter, btw…but Archer strikes me as the kind of kid who would do anything to make his little sister laugh if she was upset.

Thank you for reading. Reviews are warmly appreciated!