As a reminder, I posted 40 and 41 at the same time, so make sure you read chapter 40 first. Chapter title is a lyric from the song "We're Still Here," by Sleeping At Last. Thanks for reading! I know I'm skipping some things when it comes to the process of filing for divorce in the state of New York, but statutes and procedural rules are not what we are here for. We are here for the angsty angsty angst, and the drama, and a lot of stuff about pancakes, tbh (you were not originally here for the pancakes, no, but trust me: you are now).
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Chapter 41. Through the Ashes, We Were Brave
Fifteen Years Earlier
"Oh. Hey," Mark says when he comes into the kitchen and spots Addison at the table. She is currently leaning forward in her chair to tug on a pair of insulated boots – necessary for the heavy dumping of snow that came down last night and ensured the two of them and Derek would need to spend the night at Naomi and Sam's. Mark is a little surprised to see her at this hour; he assumed he was the only one awake, and given how much they all drank last night, he went on to assume he would be the only one awake for a while. "How you feeling?" He asks. Addison looks tired, maybe a little paler than normal, but she does not appear to have a visibly bad hangover, as far as Mark can tell. In addition to the boots she just pulled on, she is clothed in last night's sweater and jeans, and now has a thick, dark gray beanie positioned low over her forehead. Mark is vaguely amused; she does sort of strike him as the type of person who would wake up early at a sleepover and immediately get dressed, rather than lounging around in pajamas.
"Well, I sound like a sixty-year-old chain smoker," Addison answers, voice gravelly from last night's drinks. "But other than that, I'm decent enough. And then Derek," she continues, answering for her boyfriend in the way that couples sometimes do, "is not quite ready to leave the guest room yet."
"That bad?"
"He'll be fine. Hungover for sure, but definitely just suffering in the way that only men who are under the weather can." Addison smirks. "He just needs to sleep a little longer. How about you?"
"Not one-hundred percent, but like you, okay enough. Have Nai and Sam come out yet?"
"Not yet. I haven't heard any noise from their room either. And I don't think I'd expect them any time soon. Naomi was so drunk that at one point she was just drinking margarita mix out of the bottle. They don't really have much to eat here since they tossed a lot of their stuff before they went home for Christmas." Addison reaches for her down jacket, currently draped over one of the other chairs. "I was thinking about getting bagels for us. It's better out there now." She gestures towards the window, and Mark comes closer. She is correct; several inches of snow linger on the ground, but probably not for much longer. It is sunny out, and nearly cloudless.
"Not pancakes? Are you not the girl who was standing next to Naomi while you both banged on the counter at one in the morning and insisted on pancakes for breakfast? Like, actually chanted 'pancakes' over and over?"
Addison presses her hand to her forehead. "God…that really happened, didn't it?"
"It did. I figured you'd be in way worse shape this morning."
"WASP genes," she points out. "I can hold my liquor and usually don't wind up with a hangover as a result, luckily. But…you were pretty drunk last night too, you know."
"I was. And while I don't have WASP genes, I do have alcoholism and functioning alcoholism on my maternal side of the family." Mark is not sure if he regrets saying it, but he does sort of regret how flippant such a statement sounded. "The Edwards side can rally so long as they aren't blacked out," he adds, still a shade too dark, and possibly not even true. He can only speak for Jenny, because he has never met anyone from Jenny's family. Her mother is dead, and her father is…well, most likely dead by now. Mark does not know for sure. Jenny never talks about him. All Mark really remembers is that when he went with Jenny to Skaneateles Lake for the first time, she said it had been years since she talked to her dad, and that he is not a nice person and she did not want her son to be around him. Mark never pushed the topic further – a few questions here and there, maybe, but nothing substantial. Jenny always sort of shut down when he tried to bring up his maternal grandparents. Maybe it is for the best though. Mark long ago came to the logical conclusion that Jenny's dad was probably just a mean, neglectful drunk who was ill-equipped to offer a stable home environment, which is pretty much the pot introducing itself to the kettle, but at least Jenny is a nice neglectful drunk.
"Wanna come with me?" Addison asks. "Bagels would probably be easiest. Drunk Naomi was all about pancakes, and so was I, but Hungover Naomi probably isn't going to be in the mood to make them. And I don't actually…" she gives Mark a feeble grin. "I'm sure it's way easier than cutting through fascia profunda, but I've never made pancakes before."
"Really?"
"Really. That was more of a…" Addison trails off for a moment, indicating her embarrassment for being truthful about why, as though Mark did not know the instant he shook her hand over their cadaver that she didn't just come from money, but from money. She does not talk about it often, but it is pretty obvious. "A task for our cook," she finishes.
"A woman who can't make pancakes. Derek's mother will be so disappointed. I'm kidding." This he actually does regret saying, because Addison's face falls immediately. She has not met Carolyn yet – and probably will not for a while due to how busy they all are, but Mark can tell she is a little nervous about the prospect of that one day. And there will be a one day. Mark has never seen his best friend like this with a girl before; the two of them seem so happy together. "Hey, I'm kidding. She's going to love you. And, you're right; it's easier than slicing through Mr. Mulligan's deep fascia. We're close to MoWills. Let's get some stuff. I can make pancakes." Mark learned to cook early on. His parents ordered out a lot, but Jenny still has a few basics she likes to make, and the two of them have always loved breakfast food. "You and Nai chanting about pancakes has me in the mood for them. Lemme throw something on." He is still in yesterday's undershirt, and a pair of sweatpants he borrowed from Sam. "And while I do that, look through their baking stuff." He waves a hand vaguely at a row of cabinets above the sink. "See if they have flour, baking powder, sugar, salt, and vanilla extract. Start there and when I come back I'll see what else they have. Check for syrup, too." Or I'll recheck what I told you to look for, Mark thinks, because while Addison might be in better shape than their three remaining friends, her brain is probably still not powering at its usual level of brilliance after last night, and he did list all those ingredients pretty quickly.
They split up once they reach the grocery store, Mark to get the baking powder and extract, and Addison to collect the eggs, butter, and milk. When she makes her way back to where they agreed to meet, she notices Mark talking and laughing with a guy who is about his height, curly blond hair mostly covered by a baseball hat. She can see his face beneath the hat though, and he does not look like anyone in their class; they frequently run into fellow med students here.
"Hey," Mark says when she comes up next to him. "This is Johnny. We grew up together. Same school all the way through high school. And if he was on your hockey team, you weren't going to lose; this guy was a beast in the goal. Johnny, this is my friend, Addison. She's in med school with me. And hey, you remember Derek, right? Derek Shepherd?" Addison watches as Johnny grins and nods. "Addison is Derek's girlfriend."
"No kidding," Johnny says cheerfully while he and Addison share a quick handshake. "You're dating Toothpicks Shepherd?"
Addison starts to laugh, and looks over at Mark. This name for her boyfriend of about four months is news to her. "I…guess so?"
"When we were kids, Derek had the skinniest legs," Mark explains. "Even when we were completely geared up for hockey, with all the pads and stuff, his legs were just so thin and froggy-looking. Hence, Toothpicks Shepherd. We all sort of had nicknames on the ice. I was…The Enforcer."
Johnny laughs, shaking his head. "Bull. Don't listen to him," he tells Addison, eyes shifting between her and Mark. "No one called him that. Sloanie a few times, sure, which he hated, but never The Enforcer. He just called himself that. Oh, and it wasn't a nickname, but Coach Frank definitely called you a 'pain in the ass' from time to time."
"Which I definitely was."
"But I guess you were kind of an enforcer, especially where Derek was concerned." Johnny gives his full attention back to Addison. "Your boyfriend was good, and tough to catch because of his speed, but he was smaller than most of the other guys. Luckily, Mark was there to check anyone who got within feet of him. A good teammate…and a better friend."
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Addison is almost…chipper on Thursday morning. Mark watches her closely, hovering in the background, wanting to give her some space, but not too much. She drinks some green juice, but politely declines his offer to get her a bowl of cereal, or make her something, and Mark does not push the subject any further when she heads back into the bathroom, mascara wand pinched in hand. She makes easy conversation with him while applying her makeup. Things they need to pick up at the grocery store. How good tacos sound lately. How they still really need to have Lynette and Larry over. How nice the family of four who just moved in down the hall is. How Phoebe loves playing peek-a-boo now, and recognizes her name, so whenever someone says it, she will turn her head towards the speaker with a delighted smile. How Savvy wants to do a "girls weekend" sometime, and that could be fun – maybe towards the end of October or early November, Addison is thinking. Mark nods and contributes appropriate responses. He notices that she is wearing a little more makeup than she usually wears, but what the hell does he know, maybe looking like a total smokeshow is how you're supposed to do a mic drop when walking away from eleven years of marriage.
After Addison has finished her makeup, she slips on the outfit she carefully selected last night: a black maternity pencil skirt (Mark refrains from telling her how cute her bump looks in it, because he assumes she is doing what she can to minimize it this morning, in consideration of Derek's feelings), a simple white button-down blouse that she tucks into the skirt, stockings, and Stuart Weitzman pumps. She scoops up half of her already meticulously blown-out hair next, securing it with a gold circle hair clip, and then proclaims she is ready. She double – no, triple-checks – her bag, and then they are off, climbing into the cab Mark called ahead for. On the drive to midtown, Addison talks with their cabbie nearly the whole way, still overly-friendly and energetic.
Mark recognizes the carefully curated façade for what it is: she is trying to practice restraint, to appear relaxed, as though this day is like any other. As though she is signing off on a medical chart, rather than signing away everything about the last fifteen years of her life. Mark reflects for a minute on when he broke up with Lainey Hess – not the final time, but maybe the second or something, between freshman and sophomore year. It was over lunch at a local restaurant, and while Mark was trying to wait until the end of lunch to do it, Lainey kept talking about plans – couple-ish plans – and he panicked, calling the relationship off halfway through their meal rather than at the end. He remembers how calmly Lainey responded, how accepting she seemed when Mark said he wanted to just be friends (the -with benefits part came up a few weeks later), that he did not really want a girlfriend right now. Lainey finished the rest of her BLT, chatting with him in between bites about some drama at cheer camp that was mildly entertaining. She'd been so…cool about the whole thing. Mark tried to tell Jenny about it later, both relieved and thrilled by his good fortune.
"Oh, honey," Jenny replied, letting out a long, disappointed sigh at his interpretation of the afternoon's events. "You know that's just an act, right? There's no way that's actually how Lainey felt about you ending things. She was just trying to be tough in front of you."
They arrive earlier than necessary at the law office, stopping on the Lexington side so that Addison can essentially "leave" Mark in the patio area, where there is no chance of bumping into Derek, since this is the back of the building. While Addison rummages through her bag again, Mark watches a handful of people enter through the sliding doors, to-go coffees in hand from a nearby cart. They all have a nicely-dressed, legal look about them. Lawyers, paralegals, mediators. That sort of thing, he supposes. Okay, Addison says suddenly, and he turns back at the sound of her voice.
This is it. And it is maybe the saddest thing he has ever been a part of.
"I'll be right here," Mark says. "Remember: everything is going to be okay." Just not today, he thinks. He tells her that he loves her, and Addison returns the sentiment, steady-toned as she presses a chaste kiss to the edge of his mouth. Then she walks into the building.
Mark sits down on one of the stone benches flanking the sides of the garden area, positioned in front of bushes and flowers, some of which are starting to wither in the early fall weather. He pulls out his phone, and selects the app for his fantasy team, but his fingers feel jittery, and so does his brain, so he does not bother to mess around with his starters, or make a move to reject an insultingly one-sided trade offer Nina proposed. Instead, he looks at the other rosters in his league, familiarizing himself with who everyone "has." It is dull, especially since he long ago committed to memory who everyone's top players are, but it at least is keeping his mind somewhat occupied.
He glances up when he hears the sound of Addison's voice, as well as another female one. Mark cannot say for certain how much time has passed. It could have been a half-hour, an hour, maybe even longer. He studies Addison as she speaks with the woman he knows must be Harper, her attorney. Harper has a leather portfolio case cradled in her arms with what Mark figures are the signed papers she is going to bring before a judge. And then Harper briefly squeezes Addison's forearm, and turns around to go back into the building, clicking away on heels even taller than his girlfriend's. His girlfriend. His non-married girlfriend.
Addison gives Mark a strained smile as she approaches, shoulders thrown back. The only thing betraying the air of confidence she is trying to exude is a wrinkled, already-used tissue poking out of her closed fist. "Harper wants a picture of the baby when she – or he – comes," she says, stopping in front of Mark. "So…we've got another one for the birth announcement list. How's our team doing?" She tips her chin primly in the direction of Mark's phone, which he is busy tucking back into the pocket of his leather jacket. He stays sitting, uncertain if she wants to leave immediately, or perhaps sit down for a bit.
"The Hands are doing well. Holding tight in fourth for now," he answers. Illegal Use of Hands to the New Face is the full name. He explained it to Addison while he was drafting his team, that it is a type of football penalty, and that his use of the word new was a way to include a plastic surgery joke. It is smile-worthy, but probably not outright funny to anyone other than Mark. But then again, everyone in their league has a team name that either indicates they have a medical background, or are a diehard Giants/Jets fan. Derek used to play fantasy football too, as well as fantasy baseball, before giving both up three years ago, stating he was just too busy to monitor his teams as much as is needed to win a league. Mark remembers how they would get a kick out of suggesting names for each other's teams. The last year Derek played, he even ended up going with a name Mark suggested: On the Board. It was meant to be cheeky, more about the fact that Derek – who really did enjoy playing, and took it seriously – was prone to exclaiming once a week, things like, "Oh shit, I forgot my starting second baseman isn't playing today," and "I didn't have time to make changes to my lineup," due to being in the OR.
"That's good." Addison takes a seat beside him, close enough that if they both turned their heads at the same time, they would bump noses. So instead, they keep their eyes trained forward. Mark slides a hand down, tangling his fingers through the hand of hers not clutching a tissue. A few individuals – again, legal-looking ones – float in and out of the building, the doors whooshing open and shut behind them each time.
Mark clears his throat uncertainly. "How are you doing, Red?"
"Doing okay. Let's just…let's just sit here for a few minutes. I just need a few minutes." Addison knows she will talk about it with Mark eventually. Later today, or tomorrow. But not now. Right now, there is no way she would be able to cough the words out. About how cold Derek was towards her, but the contrast that such an observation contained, because while he did act cold, it felt like there were waves of heat coming off him when they were seated across from one another at a conference table, scrawling their names and initials wherever Harper and Stephen pointed. She will tell Mark later about the way Derek leaned towards his lawyer while they were still in the reception area and muttered cruelly, "An adulterous love child to go along with an adulterous sociopath and an adulterous bitch." And the sneer on his face when he first saw her, and looked at her stomach, as though her pregnancy was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen.
During their phone call back in July, Addison was very clear with Derek on the pregnancy timeline. And she knows that he is nothing if not pragmatic and logical-thinking. They last had sex in April, the day Addison delivered Phoebe. And unresponsiveness and absence aside, Derek was still around – or, well, would at least have been around enough to notice discarded tampon wrappers in the waste basket and the heating pad left on the couch and the Ibuprofen on the bathroom counter later that month. They had been married long enough that he knew when her period arrived each month, or at least knew what the signs were. There was still a part of Addison though that thought Derek might have inquired about the paternity, pushed a little harder. But, no. And this makes her realize that what she had sort of suspected in the past two years might just be true: Derek wanted a baby a lot more than he wanted to have a baby with her. And while Addison cannot begin to imagine how hurtful it must feel for Derek to know she is carrying Mark's baby, given that she did not want to have a baby on Derek's timetable, the look of disgust when he zeroed in on the slope of her growing stomach still temporarily took her breath away. Maybe it was naïve to think so, but she was expecting sadness from Derek, and anger, but not…not outright revulsion.
"Mark?" She says, trying to keep her voice even. "Just…talk to me. About anything but this."
"Sure." He tries to think of what to say, feeling a seize of apprehension when nothing comes to him. He covered week seventeen already. Baby is the size of a pear, can suck his or her thumb, can hear our voices, is forming fingerprints, and weighs a little over six ounces – he told Addison this last night in an attempt to quiet her brain, because after lying in bed for an hour, she was still wide awake and her body felt rigid where it was spooned against his.
Instead, he is inundated with thoughts of Derek. Derek, who colors most of his childhood memories, and most of his adult ones, too. Getting seated next to each other on the first day of first grade, the fate of alphabetical order – Shepherd and Sloan – that put their desks together and generated, up until a few months ago, a lifelong friendship. Walking out of the zoo together, balloons in hand. Sitting next to Derek on the couch the day after his father was killed. Derek sitting next to him on the couch after Jenny died. Jumping off the cliff at Split Rock Falls and camping at Cayuga Lake and playing catch and learning how to do front flips off the diving board and taking turns giving Amy piggy-back rides and eating popsicles on the Shepherds' front porch and playing at the arcade and riding bikes and running through the sprinklers and going to Yankee games and Ranger games and stopping for burgers and fries at least once a week after last period and the brief, back-clapping hug they shared when their med school acceptance letters arrived.
Mark thinks of hockey next. They loved it so much, especially when they were out on the pond for more informal games. Mark remembers mocking Johnny Naldoni once for failing to stop an easy shot that Derek put in the back of the net. Mark was weaving towards Johnny, and with a few feet to spare, he sent the puck over to Derek, rather than taking the shot himself. But there was still enough time for Johnny – who would go on to play at BU – to make the adjustment, and when he was not able to, it was so shocking that everyone on both teams started laughing; Johnny was nearly impossible to score against. Since when do you pass? Johnny shouted at Mark, but laughing in that easy, pleasant way of his. I didn't think you were gonna do that. Hey, look at Sloanie over there, actually sharing. And Johnny was not wrong, because Mark was not particularly generous when the goal was in sight; he craved the spotlight and the glory too much. Only with Derek, Mark chirped back. I only share with Derek.
He checked any player who came near Derek when he had control of the puck. He could not stand the thought of his best friend getting hurt.
"Mark?" Addison's voice cracks as she repeats her request. "Please? Please talk."
"Right, sorry. I'm sorry. Uh…let's see. Okay. Well, Lynette had Beckett at the office yesterday for a bit, and I changed one of his diapers. It actually went well. But, I'm going to keep practicing. How, I don't know how, because it's not like I'm around newborns often or like people are just going to start handing me babies to change, and it's for damn sure not the kind of thing I can ask because that's just like stupid creepy, but I'll figure out something that is equivalent to the size of a newborn to practice on, because I'm determined to be the fastest diaper changer on the East Coast. And Red, I forgot to tell you…you know our galaxy nightlight? There's actually a projector one just like it that simulates ocean waves. That would be perfect for the baby's room since we want to -" Mark halts when the back doors slide open and then, suddenly, there is Derek, exiting the building the way he should not be exiting, or at least not the way they expected him to. Shit, he thinks. This is exactly what Addison did not want.
Derek is in a red sweater, one that Mark has seen many times over the years. His hair is a little longer, but otherwise, he looks exactly the same. Mark feels Addison's grip tighten on his hand. It would be easy enough for Derek to move straight toward Lex to flag down a cab, to not see what can now only be considered his past on a bench in front of a few rose bushes, but for whatever reason, his gaze travels far to the right, where Mark and Addison are stiffly seated.
This is awkward. Mark does not say it, but it truly is his first thought when Derek heaves out a sigh and paces over to them, eyes narrowed. His loafers scuff the brick flooring when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of them, and for a moment Mark is seven – both men are. And they are wobbling on their new hockey skates, still learning the basic skills of the game from Coach Frank, with their knobby little knees bent and each with a skate turned inward, shavings of ice landing like confetti in front of them as they move. As they move together.
"You two deserve each other."
"Derek, I'm sorry." Mark gets to his feet when Derek spits the words out, breathing roughly. He lets go of Addison's hand. "I'm really sorry about everything that's happened. I never wanted to hurt you. Look, if you need to hit me or something, I get that." It is all Mark can manage to articulate. He sees the heavy twitch in Derek's shoulders, but it does not occur to him to brace himself for a punch, or to put his hands up in weak defense to block anything coming his way. He is still stuck on the not-enough-words part. It has been four months since Derek caught them, and almost a year since the first time Mark slept with Addison. He did not expect to see Derek today – Addison wanted to make sure he didn't, and Mark agreed that that was for the best, for both her sake and Derek's – but he has still had time to prepare for a moment like this. And what he said is maybe not enough, but really, that is all it boils down to: I'm sorry. Mark thinks for the rest, he might like the opportunity to say it in private, to not put Addison through any more emotional strain. I shouldn't have slept with her. But she kissed me, and she was hurting and sad, and I just wanted to make her feel better. I would have done anything to make her feel better. I didn't mean to fall in love with her. I couldn't help it, and I know how lazy and selfish that sounds, but it's the truth. I love her so much. I'm sorry though. I'm so fucking sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, and neither did she. For over thirty years, you were probably the most important, most influential person in my life. But now she is. I'm still sorry though. And if you can ever find it in yourself to forgive me, or be friends again, then –
"Honestly, you can have her." Derek is focused exclusively on Mark when the words leave his mouth in an angry snarl. "You two…you two really do deserve each other." And then he is gone, walking out of their lives as easily as he once walked into them.
"Addie…" Mark hurriedly sits back down once Derek has reached the sidewalk and turned towards East 49th, now out of sight.
She shakes her head. "What a…what a prick." But then her eyes swarm with tears, and she leans forward, dipping her head to rest it against Mark's chest. He holds her to him, working one of his hands up and down her spine while she lightly sniffles into his shirt, a few tears seeping onto the material. She quiets though, faster than Mark thought she would, and then he can hear raspy little laughs bubbling from her.
He gently pushes her back so that he can see her better. "What is it?" He watches as she wipes under her eyes with the pads of her fingers, the tissue forgotten. There is so much sadness and brokenness on her face, but just for a moment, a smile is etched there, along with the giggle.
"Just." Addison makes a flicking motion with her hand. "People walking by must think I got absolutely, like…destroyed in there or something." She shakes her head, still laughing. "And God, Mark. If he actually hit you…what was the plan? You get into a fist fight and then we head to your office so that I can hold the mirror while you stitch yourself up?"
"Nah, I'd trust you with the stitches. Or, honestly, I would probably trust Lynette, too. She has no medical training, but you should see the things that woman can knit. And…did you?" He probes cautiously. "Get destroyed in there, I mean."
"No. It was what I expected. I got the brownstone and the Hamptons, since he wanted neither. And then stocks, bonds, and 401(k)s were split down the middle. The trust fund stays with me, in my name – not that Derek would have…it would have made him sick, probably, the idea of having some sort of…colonial decimation money in his checking account. You know…" Addison pauses, appearing almost thoughtful. "I'm not sure I've ever called anyone a 'prick' before. And obviously there are worse words, but -"
"Yeah. I was gonna say, me hearing you call someone that is definitely a first."
"We deserve each other in a good way. Not in…" she shifts her head back and forth again. "Let's get out of here. You wanna go home and have sex with an angry divorcée?" She asks, lips curving to form another forced grin.
I just want to go home. Home with you. That is all he really wants.
"Let's go home," Mark says simply, neither confirming nor turning down the opportunity for sex. He cannot imagine it happening anytime soon though; right now, Addison is hanging on by a thread, and he knows the emotional crash is not far off.
She folds her hand inside his, and together, they walk away, leaving the Montgomery-Shepherd marriage behind them.
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Fifteen Years Earlier
"Okay. That's good," Mark decides. "Go ahead and take that one off." He points to a pancake and watches as Addison carefully slides the spatula underneath it to transfer it to the baking sheet. Mark is providing instructions, but he has let Addison do most of the work while he shares little Jenny tidbits along the way. Mix the dry and wet ingredients separately, and when you combine them, don't overmix – otherwise the pancakes won't be fluffy. Vanilla extract is what makes them taste sweeter. Use the back of the spoon when you spread the batter on the skillet. When the edges look dry and once a few bubbles have burst, that's when you want to flip. We're putting them on a baking sheet and using the oven – just at two-hundred – because we're making a lot, and my mom would stroke out if I used the microwave to warm them up again. "And by the way, when Derek comes out here…" Mark waits for Addison to hopefully complete the sentence, certain they are on the same page.
Addison laughs. "Yes, I'll definitely be saying, 'Hey, Toothpicks. How's it going?' when he makes an appearance. Oh." She frowns, looking over at Mark. The pancake she has set onto the baking sheet is weirdly shaped, and looks a little burned. "It…it didn't really -"
"It's okay," he assures. "It's sort of a thing. Something to do with the heat, I think. The first pancake is never the best-looking one. My mom would tell you it's as certain as death and taxes. Just wait. The next one you take off will be perfect." He indicates another pancake on the skillet. "Give that one a few more seconds, and it'll be good to go."
Mark is right. They continue on, using up the remaining batter and quietly chatting and enjoying each other's company. When they have made just about enough pancakes for everyone, they hear the telltale thump of footsteps, and then a raspy-voiced acknowledgment from Derek as he comes into the kitchen. "Smells good in here," he shares.
"Hey there," Mark greets, and then he pokes Addison, not for nickname-revealing purposes, but to get her to take the remaining pancake off the skillet. "Look who managed to get out of bed," he says, grinning at Derek. "We're making good on last night's pancake chanting. While you were getting your beauty rest, we went food shopping."
Addison then turns around to face Derek, already giggling. "Good morning, Toothpicks Shepherd."
"Good mor – wait…no. Nooo." Derek eyes widen with (mostly) mock horror as Addison keeps laughing, which triggers Mark to start laughing. "Who did you run into? Or did you tell her, Mark? Okay." Derek shakes his head, and joins them in laughter, unable to resist the pleasant mood that is filtering through the kitchen. "You know what, I'm not sure how I feel about you two spending time together without me."
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. .
Mark is able to coax Addison into eating something when they get home – just really quick, and then we'll go lie down and relax. She chews her toast slowly, almost meticulous with bird-sized bites, in a way that makes Mark think that eating right now is probably like trying to maneuver teeth against rubber. And he does not feel differently once he starts on a slice of his own toast. The buttered bread feels funny, almost too spongy, and it lingers on his tongue with barely a taste. And swallowing feels more difficult than normal, too, as though loss has stripped them both of their senses and some of their basic body functions.
Addison's nice clothes come off as soon as they make it to their bedroom (and he does tell her this time how cute her belly looks in the skirt), traded in for pajama bottoms and one of Mark's shirts. She crawls into bed first, but when she starts to sink down, she seems to remember something, and arches back into a sitting position. She reaches towards the back of her head, dragging out the hair clip. She absently hands it to Mark, in the same way as a little kid that he might have handed a cup of juice back to Jenny after he had his fill, rather than just setting it down on a surface within feet of him.
"Can you please hold me?"
"Yeah." He would have smiled at Addison's question if she did not look so deeply sad and vulnerable right now. "You know you don't ever actually have to ask me to do that, right?"
She nods as Mark gets down next to her, copying her position as he twists onto his side. Once he has made sure they are both comfortable on their shared pillow, he hooks an arm over her waist. And then the tears come. They are almost graceful in how slowly they slide down Addison's cheeks. She closes her eyes. Mark can see the rigidness of her jaw, revealing that her top and bottom teeth are clamped together in an attempt to not make noise. And her chest is bouncing a little from the effort to suppress the sounds, too. It is what Mark is seeing, but also what he is not seeing that worries him. Tears are needed for our eyes to work properly. He first learned that in elementary school, with his best friend seated next to him.
He knows what to do and what to say. It is maybe just…everything. And everyone that has either directly or inadvertently offered guidance along the way, showing him what it really means to give and receive love, and how to take care of someone and how to be taken care of. Everett and Jenny, because no matter what their level of selfishness and dysfunction, they still loved him first. Lynette. Olivia. Carolyn and Christopher. Derek, even though they no longer have a connection. And Addison. Her most of all.
"Addison…look at me for a sec." Mark sets his thumb and pointer finger under her chin, and lifts up just a little, enough for her to be eye level with him. "Look." She opens her tightly scrunched eyes with some reluctance. "Just let yourself feel it, okay? Don't hold back. Make noise. Be as loud as you want. Whatever you need to feel…feel all of it. It's fine. You're not a burden. And whatever you feel won't freak me out or scare me away." Mark drops his hand then, perching an arm back around her to hug her close. "I promise. Now go ahead."
She hangs on for a little longer, suspended in persistent defiance for a few more seconds, lips trembling, and then she breaks apart, hard. Harder than Mark has ever experienced with her before. A splintered, high-pitched sob explodes from the back of her throat, maybe even more of a scream than a sob. Tears flood down her face, and she cries so hard into Mark's shoulder that her body shakes with every heart-wrenching sound. He thinks it is worse than the time she spent the night at his apartment after Derek caught them. So much worse. It is worse than the time back in July when she broke down in the shower and could not stand up without his help. So much worse. Since they are lying down, they are not in a position to exchange much pressure, but Mark is certain he can still feel the moment that Addison's full weight falls against him. The weight of her grief. Like the way her body feels a little heavier right before she falls asleep. But different. So different. Her face is pressed close to his throat now, and for a long time – for longer than what feels possible to sustain such an intense response – it is just high notes and hot breaths and tears that drench his skin.
"Mark…" she croaks out at one point, and he thinks it is maybe for no other purpose than just to say it aloud, to acknowledge him. Nothing has changed; he is still holding her tightly. Any tighter and she would not be able to breathe properly, and with the current jaggedness of her sobs, it feels like she is barely managing that task anyway.
"I've got you. Keep feeling." Mark pushes through the tension clogging his throat. Whatever he is feeling – and he is feeling a whole fucking lot – has to be shelved until later. She needs him too much right now. "I know it hurts, Red. I know you're in pain," he says when he notices Addison's cries are starting to come out slower, the volume dropping. "But you have to let yourself feel it." He encourages her to take a few slow breaths, rubbing his knuckles along her wet, reddened cheek while she manages to do so. There are hitches still disrupting the rhythm of her inhales and exhales, but she is a little calmer now, and when she feels ready, she opens her eyes again, blinking heavily, tears still speared along her lashes.
Mark adjusts his hand so that he can cradle her cheek. "Hey," he murmurs, voice heavy with emotion.
"H-hey." Addison's eyes are wide, as though the force of her reaction has startled her. She looks embarrassed – incredibly embarrassed – but she does not apologize, which feels like progress to Mark. Generally, the first thing she does when she has finished crying is say that she is sorry. He draws his hand away from her cheek, and when she does not appear to protest his moving back a little, he rises up to remove his shirt.
"Here." Mark holds it out to her. "For your…" he gestures flimsily. "Face," he finishes. Addison's cheeks and jawline are soaked with tears, and her makeup – so carefully, almost heartbreakingly applied this morning – is now smeared under her eyes and along her cheekbones. "I'm not seeing any tissues on the nightstand." And I don't really want to leave you alone right now.
Addison stares at him doubtfully as she takes the shirt. "I'm going to get it all…gross." Mark's shirt is white. As white as her wedding dress. As white as her marriage certificate. As white as the divorce papers she signed today.
He shrugs away this concern. "I'll wash it later. Besides, it's barely even my shirt right now; we both know you're going to steal it." He smiles when Addison laughs at this, and once he has nodded in reassurance, she presses the cotton material to her face, rubbing hard and not bothering to be the least bit elegant or ladylike about it. It is effective in wiping away all traces of wetness, but some of her makeup stubbornly stays in place, now just even more dirty-looking. Addison cannot see her reflection, but she does seem to sense this is the case, and once she feels calm enough to use the bathroom, she fishes some makeup remover wipes out of a package, and then afterwards washes her face with warm water, erasing the remaining physical damage.
Mark uses the opportunity during her absence to flip over the pillow to the dry side. "Okay," he says when Addison reappears, moving slowly. "C'mere again."
"She's not…" Addison chokes out when she gets back into bed and Mark reaches for her. "She's not an adulterous love child. She's not." There is contempt in her voice, but he recognizes that it is not coming from her. It is like Addison is mirroring someone, and of course he knows who this statement would have originated from. She is not just crying because of all the emotions of ending her marriage, and how hard seeing Derek today was; she is also crying because of the things Derek must have said to her before he made an appearance in the patio area. And God, if Mark had known, and if Derek was in front of him when he knew, he might have swung, never mind his previous consideration that it would only be fair for Derek to get to hit him first. "She's..." Addison hiccups sadly, and holds Mark's shirt up to her eyes again as more tears fall. "I mean, technically, yeah, by definition, but she -"
"She's very, very loved," Mark cuts in. "And she's going to be born to two parents who love each other and just…made some mistakes and were kind of idiots along the way. And one day when she's older, we'll find a way to tell her how we met and how we became a couple in a way that makes sense, and we'll make sure that she knows how much we wanted her once we knew it was the right time for us to have a baby. And if she is actually a he…same thing. Just with the addition that we never, ever, ever talk about how we were so certain Baby was a girl." Mark grins when Addison releases a light laugh in agreement. "Derek called her – or him – that to your face?"
"No, he said it to his attorney, but I…I heard it. And he probably wanted me to hear it. One day when we…when we get married, let's not get divorced." She starts to cry harder now. "This morning was…this morning w-was just so awful."
Mark assumes there is more to the awful than what she has already shared. Probably more things that Derek said to her, but he does not think Addison has the strength to share all that right now, and it is not something he wants to push her on. "I know," he acknowledges. "And I'm sorrier for that than I can put into words. But today is as hard as it's ever going to get. Okay?" He rubs Addison's back, helping her get through a few coarse sobs, and when she starts to relax again, he raises one of her hands to place a little kiss on the inside of her wrist. "You won't ever have to have a day like this ever again. Ever. And you were really, really strong for having to go through all that. But it's like that…gradually and then all of a sudden thing. You…you mentioned it a few weeks ago, when you were talking to Bizzy. You said it was how…like how your feelings for me started. It sounded like a book reference, and I sort of made a mental note to look it up, but then I forgot. What's it from?"
"'Gradually and then suddenly,'" Addison gently corrects. "It's from The Sun Also Rises." She pauses meaningfully, giving Mark a moment to process this. It is Derek's favorite book. And Mark remembers. Of course he remembers. Derek is a creature of habit. He has plenty of things he likes, yes, but he can almost always name a distinctive favorite, rather than someone like Mark, who when queried about his favorite something-or-other, would probably be more inclined to offer up several possible answers; it varies. Not Derek though. Color, song, ice cream flavor, movie quote, season, scent. He always had a favorite for everything. Including a friend. "According to Mike – I can't remember his last name – that's how you go bankrupt. Gradually and then suddenly. It's also how I fell in love with you, but before that, the quote was always on my mind because for me it's also…it was how my marriage initially fell apart. There were just…things that stood out to me in the last few years. Letting Derek go the private practice route first, or maybe not that specifically, but the fact that I just…deferred to him. I didn't share what it was that I wanted, and he never asked me what I wanted. I put him first, even though he never, ever put me first. And the genetics fellowship – he didn't want me to do it. And then there was this incident with Amelia where he was just…she wasn't even there, but he was harsh in how he talked about her. It was like his true colors came out, because even though he loves his little sister, he can be so judgmental and unforgiving. You were there for that, actually. Remember the Brandon engagement thing?" She asks, and Mark nods, able to recall it. "And judgmental and unforgiving are qualities I can certainly understand when it comes to your spouse cheating on you, but even before that…well. We've talked about it before: how Derek's love felt conditional. There were always limits, and I never felt like anything I did was good enough for him. And Bizzy's suicide attempt. He wasn't…I know I sort of shut down for a bit afterwards, so I can't blame him entirely, but he pretty quickly stopped checking in with me about it. It was one of those situations where maybe he should have pushed to try to connect with me, but he didn't. And then shortly after that – I don't know if he told you – but I had a pregnancy scare."
Mark shakes his head. "No, he never mentioned that."
"I guess scare is probably too strong of a word…but yeah. I took a test on my thirty-fifth birthday. I was sort of relieved when it came back negative; it wasn't the right time. I had a year left in my fellowship, and I just…didn't feel ready. And I think Derek resented me for being relieved, for not feeling ready." She sighs softly. "This was way more than you needed to know; I feel like I'm talking too much. Anyway. It's how you go bankrupt. Why…why are you asking?"
"Because I think 'gradually and then suddenly' is going to be the trajectory for things getting easier for us. You, especially. The easier thing will take time; it won't get harder though. Nothing will be as hard as today was for you. And for all those days, for all those gradually days before the suddenly day, I'm going to wake up and love you each of those days. Everything is going to be okay, Addie. I swear it will be. We're just going to keep working our way through this stuff. And I think eventually we're going to look at one another one day and realize that it is easier. That it's better."
Addison gives him a small nod. Marie said something similar to her at her last session. Some sort of analogy about paths. When you start down a new one – maybe one you never expected to find yourself on – there will be brambles and uneven dirt and waist-high weeds you have to force your way over and through. But eventually, all of those things will soften and wear down. If you wake up and choose the same path over and over and over again, and keep taking those forward steps, eventually it gets easier to walk. And once it does, it will be the most familiar thing in the world to you.
"Yeah. I'm just…I'm so tired now…" she mumbles, cuddling beneath Mark's chin again, getting as close to his bare skin as she can. He reaches between them, moving the droplet-spattered shirt out of the way. Addison feels like she is in pieces. But if she is, then she knows Mark knows all those pieces, cares about all those pieces, and will hold her through all those pieces. He holds her like she is worth it. He holds her and she feels worth it. She can feel her worth.
"I know you are." His voice sounds further away than it did before. Her eyelids slide shut, heavy-feeling from exhaustion and crying so much. "Today was like being crushed between a brick wall and a semi, and I know you weren't able to get much rest last night either. Try to take a nap for a bit."
"Okay. But…but you'll stay -"
"I'm not going anywhere. I'll take a nap, too. There will be no trips to Bridgehampton without you. Right? Is that the one you wanted -"
"No. No." Addison cracks one eye open, and he almost chuckles, because of course she would gather up the last vestiges of her energy to make sure he knows how very wrong he is about something. "Westhampton. That's the hamlet I mentioned. That's where we'll get a place one day."
"That's right. You're right. Sleep now, Addie. And I'll be right here if you need anything."
. .
. .
Okay but not great. That is how Addison would classify her nap, and maybe, realistically, this is the kind of sleep that is to be expected for a bit. It is still light out when she opens her eyes – probably early afternoon, she thinks. At some point, she must have rolled to her other side, and while Mark's chest is not pressed to her back and his arm is not locked around her anymore, she can feel him behind her, not quite touching her, but still close enough that she can sense his presence.
"…being such a child," she hears him mumble.
"Child?" Addison twists over to face him, doing it slowly due to how tired she still feels, and because everything about her just feels slower now that she is in her second trimester. She observes that Mark is still on his side, but propped up on an elbow, his phone cradled in one hand.
"Oh, Red." He frowns and reaches behind him, setting the phone back down on his nightstand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"
"It's okay," she interrupts. "I was already awake. Who…who's being a child?" She asks curiously.
Mark laughs blithely in response. "Lynette," he informs her.
"Wow. Whatever it is must be pretty bad then, if you're accusing her of being a child."
"She texted earlier to ask how you were doing. And when I didn't respond – on account of, you know, sleeping – like every twenty minutes after that she sent a question mark. And then her most recent text was just this weird ass combination of letters and emojis. And after I responded, it occurred to me that that was probably not her acting like a child, but an actual child. I bet Rowan got her phone. Anyway," he says, "I told her it was rough, but that you're hanging in there."
Addison smiles, touched by this information. "That was kind of her to ask," she says. "And yeah…yeah, I'm hanging in there. I'm exhausted – emotionally, mentally, physically. And sad. And a little angry. Maybe even a lot angry. And prepared to go through an entire tissue box with Marie next week. But, I'm hanging in there. You know…" she curls her fingers around Mark's wrist. "We've talked a lot about how I'm doing though. I think maybe we should talk about how you're doing. I know I probably need to ask you that more." Well. No. She asks plenty, she really does. It is more just that Mark immediately pushes it back to her.
"Oh. Okay." He swallows tightly. "Well, today…sucked." And Addison waits for more. Tell me more. That is what Marie would say. Olivia too probably, for that matter.
"I guess I had this…stupid fantasy," Mark goes on, words rolling out slowly, cautiously. "I know it can't ever be the same, but I was thinking – hoping – that maybe things could be, like, same-but-different one day. That one day, Derek would forgive us, and we'd talk again. Be friends again. Same-but-different friends. And we'd all…see each other sometimes. Not often. Maybe once a year, maybe twice. Like, you and I would be together – married, with kids – and he and the intern, or someone else would be married with kids. And we'd exchange Christmas cards. Maybe photo ones would be too weird – you know, sending him shots of us together as a family and stuff – so we'd just send generic cards, but we'd put a little more in the cards than just our signed names. We'd just…we'd build something out of the wreckage." He hesitates, long enough for them to both think the same thing: the wreckage that we caused. Addison has talked about it with Marie. She and Mark both lost one person. But Derek lost two people. The two people he was closest with. "I know…realistically I know it's too much to ask. Even if he did forgive us one day, if he could move past it…it's not likely that he would want to find a way to be friends with us again. We're his past. Not his future. I think you have a better shot of getting his forgiveness than I do, but overall…I know it's not likely."
Addison offers him a small, sympathetic nod. "Same-but-different would be nice. The man can hold a grudge like no one else, but…it's nice to sort of hold onto that hope, isn't it? Or just try not to rule it out entirely in our heads. You're right; we probably won't have any additional contact with him, but maybe we just keep that hope filed away somewhere anyway. And it won't get any harder than today; you were right about that, too. And in the meantime, we have Lynette and Savvy and Weiss – he really liked playing tennis with you the other night, by the way – and Archer and your dad and sort of my parents and Naomi and Sam and Charlene – as weird as that is, all things considered – and a handful of people at the hospital who don't think we're social pariahs. Also…" she smiles, a little shyly. "Kids plural?"
"Well, yeah. I might not like the first one. I'm kidding," Mark says quickly, just in case her brain is not as quick as her pregnancy hormones to pick up on the fact that this was definitely a joke. "I mean, I'm happy with one if you're happy with one, but I always would have liked a sibling, growing up." A sibling who lived under my roof. Mark knows he should add that. Because he did have siblings, in a way: he had Derek and his sisters.
Not anymore though.
"I do really like the idea of two," Addison admits, smiling wider now. "Having Archer…we really needed each other as kids, and it made things more fun. And we're only sixteen months apart, so that's kind of nice, too. Sometimes when I was mad at him, I'd call him 'the first pancake.' There's this expression about the oldest sibling being like the first pancake. Because when you're making a stack…you know how the first one always turns out wonky? Like, no matter how hard you try, and even though the rest are fine, something always goes wrong with the first one. Well." She rolls her eyes. "What am I talking about, of course you know that. You were the one who taught me how to make pancakes. God, that was so long ago. I always knew that expression, but that was the first time I really saw it in action, while we were making them; I meant to share the 'pancake kid' theory with you that day, but I forgot…I think I was just having too much fun, getting to spend one-on-one time with you. Anyway, parenting is apparently like that. You know, just learning as you go…so subsequent attempts should be smoother."
"I'm sure Archer enjoyed hearing that from you." Mark smirks.
"You were a good teacher," she says, voice soft. "Or, at least, I don't have any distinctive memories of the pancakes – even the first one – turning out super badly. That was…that really was a lifetime ago." Addison tries to imagine being that young woman again. Giddy about her boyfriend – feeling loved, and whole, for the first time, but all the while not knowing, there was something more for her. Something better. "But that was nice, that morning at the store and then us getting breakfast ready for everyone." Everyone. She does not refer to Derek by name, nor state that he came out before Nai and Sam, and that she and Mark teased him about a childhood nickname. She wonders if this is what memories will be like going forward, when they involve the three of them, the once-upon-a-time trio. Picking through each memory, diminishing Derek's role in them in a desperate, self-preserving attempt to reduce the pain and guilt and discomfort and impropriety, until the most important part of each memory is just her and Mark.
Mark leans forward to press his lips against hers. "You were beautiful that morning." It could be a line. Hell, maybe it should be a line. But it is not. It is as clear as anything in Mark's mind. It was the first time he looked at Addison and rather than thinking hot, he thought beautiful. It was something about the lighting. Winter sunlight was pouring in through Naomi and Sam's kitchen window. There was just something about how it struck the ends of Addison's long hair and the curves of her cheeks, and how when she looked at him, bare-faced and smiling, so happy about how the pancakes were turning out, her blue eyes with their hints of green were staggeringly bright. "I remember thinking that. You looked beautiful."
If hope is supposed to be the last thing that humans lose, then surely love is right in front of it.
"Did I?" Addison asks. He smiles and nods, and then kisses her more thoroughly. She responds eagerly, swirling her tongue around his. "More beautiful now though, right?" She asks when she pulls back. Definitely fishing, but you know what? It has been a hard fucking day.
"Yeah. Absolutely. Hey, Red…I know that you probably want to go to work tomorrow – that trademark Montgomery stubbornness and all – but maybe you should take it off and start your weekend early?" Mark suggests. "Today was a lot for you."
She nods sagely. "I actually texted Nina this morning before we left for Harper's to tell her that. I told her I'd find a way to make it up to her. Do you…do you have to work tomorrow?"
Mark sighs, feeling some regret. "I have two appointments in the morning. That's it though. They were already rescheduled from a previous day, otherwise I wouldn't have…" he shakes his head. "They won't be long though. And I can get out of there after that. I have things that can wait until next week. I usually keep my Fridays pretty light anyway. And for this one, I purposely kept it light -"
"Because you knew I'd be a mess?"
"Because I knew you were going to have a really hard day, and while you're capable of being alone, you shouldn't have to be. Especially not right now. You can come with me tomorrow though, if you want. We can get bagels from that place you like on the way in. And then you can just relax in my office. Read or take a nap or something. Or hang out with Lynette; she'd love to see you. Maybe her daughter-in-law would even be able bring Beckett by for a few minutes; she lives pretty close to the practice. It's like you said: talk therapy is -"
"Effective, but the most therapeutic experience ever is getting to hold a baby and sniff the top of the baby's head," she finishes with a knowing grin. "That smell is just…intoxicating. And it doesn't last forever, unfortunately."
"Then we better make sure we get in as many 'head hits' as we can with our little one then. You can also start brainstorming names so that when we find out the sex soon, we can come up with something more creative than Baby or First Pancake."
He strokes her hair when a few more tears arrive – ones Addison was not expecting. It will take time to heal. But luckily, time is all they have now. Time. And each other.
"You know, I didn't really like The Sun Also Rises," Addison says later, still wrapped in his arms. A few hours have passed, ones where she has continued to dip in and out of a mostly-okay sleep. "I think I'm just not a Hemingway fan, but there was this other quote I've always held onto from that book: 'I can't stand it to think my life is going so fast and I'm not really living it.' And that one just…I'm living now. I'm finally living." She sighs contently, chest rising and falling under the secure weight of Mark's embrace. "For such a long time, I wasn't. I was a spectator. And maybe…maybe I was worse than that. Sometimes it felt like I was invisible…it was like I was disappearing. And I thought nobody noticed, that nobody saw me, including – and especially – the person who was supposed to love me the most, but then…then you happened. We happened. And you're the person who loves me the most and it turns out I wasn't actually invisible; you saw me. You saw me that whole time. And now I'm living the life I want to live – with you – and I'm really, really living."
Mark touches his lips to the tender skin of her neck. "Yeah. You're living," he agrees. "And like we talked about earlier, and while we were in Rockport, and then at some point down the road if we bring it up in Westhampton – not Bridgehampton – everything is going to be okay."
She smiles, and echoes the sentiment. "Everything is going to be okay."
. .
. .
Notes/References/Nods to Various Episodes
Kudos – seriously, HUGE kudos – to writers who have written about Addek divorce on the regular. You are definitely made of stronger stuff than I am, because holy shit.
When it comes to birth orders, I'm a "first pancake" just like Archer, so obviously all of that is in good fun. And let's be real: when it came to child-rearing, the Montgomery parents did an equally terrible job with flipping BOTH pancakes…it's a miracle either A-sib is a functional adult (and that functionality is definitely questionable at times).
The "gradually and then suddenly" bit started in chapter one (man, that was so long ago). The (starting) reasons Addison listed for the demise of their marriage are there. And as stated in Grey's season 1, Derek's favorite book is The Sun Also Rises. (But IS it his favorite book or is that just what he TELLS people is his favorite book? I will never know.)
"Angry divorcée" is a nod to Grey's, 3x05. Mark to Addison: "You know, this angry divorcée thing really turns me on." Also, Addison's hair in this chapter for the "divorce scene" was styled how it was in 3x05, with the cute clip. And "stocks, bonds, 401(k)s split down the middle" was how their divorce panned out (along with Addison getting both properties).
Grey's 3x04.
Addison: "Oh, this is just perfect. An adulterous love child."
Derek: "Goes along with an adulterous sociopath." (the comment was directed at Mark, but Derek's gaze flickered back and forth between Addison and Mark when he walked between them to go check on a barfing Meredith). And then Derek referred to Addison as an "adulterous bitch" in 2x04.
The Mark/Addison/Derek scene is sort-of-but-not-really from the 8x13 Grey's AU episode, with contextual modifications for it to fit here…be sure to check out the extended version of the scene, not just what aired. Mark offering to be hit, and Derek (who did this kind of wind-up thing with his shoulders in a way that indicated he did briefly think about it) responding with, "Honestly, you can have her" – this happened. And then watch Addison's face in the scene. Just absolute (but restrained) devastation, as though such a statement from Derek was equal parts predictable and unbelievable to her. I have done my best not to necessarily write Derek as a sympathetic character,* but with at least enough gradation for readers to be able to think, "…yeah, his situation sucks." Because it did. All three of them made mistakes, and while adultery is the biggest, no one is particularly innocent here. It's very, very gray. I had a few different ideas for this chapter, but I ultimately elected not to go in-depth on the signing of the papers or have a just-Addison-and-Derek scene (as previously shared in one or two notes, the trio will get to reconnect a few years in the future because of Something That Happens – everyone is fine – and those sorts of convos will happen then). The internal dialogue, and also the time spent in bed with Mark and Addison (jeeeeez, I wish) felt more important. Ultimately, this is a Mark and Addison story. It is not so much about starting over, but more about starting again after a split-second decision rips open the fabric of the life you had. And Mark's grief has been a lot subtler throughout this fic, but that sort of comes to a head in like two chapters.
*Obviously Derek was real dick-ish in this chapter.
Also, Addison likes green juice (it was basically a secondary character on PP) – can't remember if I mentioned that already, too lazy to go back and check.
"This is awkward." – you already know. Same with the part about Mark suturing his own face.
As an aside, and I know no one has asked for a long-winded explanation on names, but here we go anyway: since there is a chance of it coming up, if the baby turns out to be a girl…oh, fuck it, we all know it's a girl…her name will not be Ella. So no need to ask that (or request it). I love the name Ella (and actually used it once in a one-shot before that specific PP episode aired), but it forever lives in some sort of alternative abyss for me, and I'd be too sad to use it! They'll have their name picked before the baby comes…and that'll be shared next chapter or the one after, depending on how my outline shakes up (I think next – I'm still aiming for 50 chapter max). The name will sort of be in the same style as Ella though. To each their own (and I think writers have gone in all different directions with baby!names for an Addison/whoever baby, which is really cool – my most "unexpected" one was probably Lena, for a Private Practice-centric fic I wrote years ago and am toying with reworking), but I have always envisioned Addison going with a more traditional, classic name (and Mark just…having some opinions, maybe, but mostly just being along for the ride – I'm having a tough time seeing Addison giving him "veto" power) (idk where the fuck Carson came from when she mentioned that on PP though).
Anyway. Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts, or even just a "hey." These chapters just about crushed me, but finishing them felt So. Damn. Good. and I am proud of how they turned out. Updates will probably slow down a bit because I have a fair amount of things on my plate at the moment, but I will do my best to keep them coming!