Atlas

by darlingwrecks

What if you can build something out of the wreckage that you caused? Mark/Addison (and Derek), pre-Grey's. Includes flashbacks to Addison's childhood, Mark's childhood, and works off the fact that the "he was just here" comment was not accurate. Long-term affair. Mark/Addison and Derek/Meredith endgame.

52. Dust Was Made to Settle

Hello! Thank you for your patience with this one…I know it has been a while. The good news (I guess?) is that this chapter is pretty long, which somehow makes up for the delay in posting, in my mind. In the present day scenes, there are some callbacks/nods to: sailing stuff in chapter 1; an Addison/Mark/Derek flashback in chapter 20; a series of Addison/Mark flashbacks in chapter 30 that stick out (congrats to myself because this is my worst double entendre to date) as favorites for me; and a Mark/Derek flashback (present day, but mentioned) in chapter 32.

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

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Chapter 52. Dust Was Made to Settle

Addison is thinking about sailing as daylight begins to reach across the Manhattan skyline. Throughout her childhood, the Captain liked to be out on the water first thing in the morning, inhaling the brisk, salt-spun air while the sun crept over the horizon and orange-gold light flashed along the waves of the Sound. Addison went with him most Sunday mornings when she was a little girl, starting at an age when she was barely strong enough to pull in the main sheet and definitely too young to retain all the sailing verbiage. It was usually just them, because Archer had a full social calendar from the moment he started at Carrington Prep, and Bizzy did not like sailing. Addison became less of a fixture on these harbor jaunts around age twelve, not because of social things (thankfully she did start to earn the occasional sleepover invitation by then though), but because those sunrise excursions had proven to be an exercise in futility. Twelve was around the time she realized that the Captain's love for her and desire to connect with her did not increase just because she kept him company on the Sound.

Days where there were ten knots of wind or less meant sailing was more about a relaxing day than challenging one's skills and equipment, and those were their best days on the water as a father-daughter duo, Addison felt. She did well in those situations, and the mutters – the Captain never really yelled, just coldly expressed his disappointment – that she was too slow with raising the main sail and had no control over the jib sheet when it was time to tack were not as frequent. Addison was never in a life jacket, which is a thought that horrifies her now, not just as, well, a reasonable person, but also as a mother. She thinks back to two months ago, when the four Montgomery-Sloans were climbing into a motorboat at Amston Lake, and Ruby was protesting about having to wear a life jacket.

My mom and dad make me wear one when we're out on the water, too, one of their boating companions, Nathan, tried to reason sympathetically. We all wear one. It keeps you safe. If you go overboard, you could…and then he trailed off, perhaps recognizing the delicate age of his audience, and just reiterated it keeps you safe with a wide, braces-crowded smile. Addison was grateful her colleague's son left off part of his thought, because she could see where he was going with it – you could drown – and while she knew the topic would have probably intrigued Ruby and led to more questions, it would have frightened Clara.

It made Addison's throat tighten for a moment though, when she considered what Nathan had elected not to voice. There had been so many times in her life – before Mark, before Clara, before Ruby – where the line between floating and drowning was infinitesimally thin. She had known great love with Derek for a time, but it was not lost on her that when her first marriage started to disintegrate, she had openly tolerated and accepted what could only be considered the minimum level of love.

She understood what the Captain enjoyed about sailing in the morning. The vacant calm, the sense of solitude, the quiet lapping of the waves and the rustle of the wind – Addison would be lying if she didn't admit there was a part of her that liked it, too. Among tides and currents, language and vigilance keep you moving forward. If you stay out long enough that the sun has found its full footing in the sky, the sailboat becomes a part of you. The water is you and you are the water.

Clara and Ruby do not know that unique feeling yet, of what it means to practically fly as the wind and water serve as opposite forces. Mark and Addison have taken the girls on a ferry a few times, and the four of them went out on a smaller boat back in June, thanks to an invitation their family received from Priya and her husband, Jay, to join them at their vacation home in Hebron for the weekend. They had gone tubing – Ruby was game immediately, and was practically offended that Addison was in the tube with her, and Clara took a bit more gentle coaxing before she went out with Mark – but Addison thinks the girls' favorite part was watching Nathan, Priya and Jay's ten-year-old son, water ski. "I think Nathan is so handsome," Ruby said at one point with complete earnestness, not the least bit self-conscious about announcing this to everyone seated in the boat (it made Addison laugh, but Mark, not so much).

As for taking the girls sailing…Addison is not there yet emotionally, even though she knows in the same way that Bizzy is infinitely more patient with her granddaughters than she ever was with Addison when she was a child, the Captain would be the same way, and would probably be amused by any of the girls' mistakes as they tried to help him with the equipment. It is not just feelings-focused self-preservation though; Addison has also not wanted to take the girls out because her younger daughter is still wild enough to treat everything as a potential climbing surface. If Ruby had it her way, she would probably wrap her limbs around the boom and giggle as it swung from side to side.

Watch for the boom. How many times had Addison heard that when she was younger? And how many times had she said it aloud, too, both heeding and sharing those words of warning?

The lingering bruised-blue darkness of night has faded, and she is now reflecting on a time eighteen years ago – God, was it really that long ago? – when she went sailing with Mark and Derek. It was shortly before they started their residency. Be careful, the Captain warned Addison after she talked him into letting her take the boat out. She knew the depressing reality behind his words: he was talking about the condition of the boat, not the safety of herself and her guests.

An incomparable trio, Mark had said when they were clinking their drinks together while anchored. That's right, Addison contributed. Addie and the boys.

She watches now as the remaining boy in her life begins to wake up, the sheets puckering beneath him as he rolls onto his side. She can also remember the three of them hanging out near the pool, curled up in chairs shaded by a panelized gazebo, after they had returned from sailing. Two chairs though, if Addison is recalling correctly, because she thinks she was probably draped across Derek's lap. Their alcohol consumption was still going strong that afternoon, as was their desire to toast to everything, and Addison can still picture when Mark's just-cracked-open beer slipped from his hand. It was an uncharacteristic mistake from the one in their circle of friends considered most likely to keep his shit together after copious amounts of drinking.

"Mark, come on." Addison shook her head as he apologized. "I told you to watch for the boom." It did not make sense, but they were drunk on enough beer, wine, Connecticut sunshine, and camaraderie that they all started laughing. Here's to us, Addison announced, lifting her glass of wine once Mark had acquired a new drink. The three of us.

"Hi," she greets when Mark's eyelids flutter open. He offers her a sleepy grin, definitely sleepier than usual; it is still too early for them to have to get out of bed. "Were you dreaming about me?" Addison's lips tease into a smile. It is a question they ask each other from time to time, brought on by some of the exchanges from Ruby they have heard over the years. Did you think about me when you were at work? Was I in your dreams last night? Clara, did you think about me when you were at school today?

"Of course I was dreaming about you. Addison…" Mark's eyes are wider now. "You slept, right?"

"I did. I woke up a few minutes ago." Well. More like an hour ago. But it is enough sleep, and Addison does not want him to worry. "And now I'm just…awake." She scoots across the mattress to be closer, and tucks herself under her husband's chin. His fingers slip through her hair, lightly massaging the back of her head.

The feelings swirling through Addison this morning remind her of their first year together, when she was pregnant with Clara, when she would awaken filled with guilt and dread about the end of her marriage, and uneasiness about going into work. September, October, November. Those were the hardest months for Addison, emotionally. It was a combination of the divorce, and finally reaching the stage of her pregnancy where she was showing, which prompted a litany of remarks throughout NYP that always seemed to follow her, no matter how inconspicuous the gossipers thought they were being. Do you think there will be a paternity test? Do you think she was screwing him the whole marriage? What are the odds he can keep it in his pants? Do you think they'll even still be together when the baby comes? Addison kept her head high, but the remarks still hurt, quite a lot (funny though, how once Clara arrived, the same people who were discussing her life behind her back were eager to coo over her daughter whenever she made an appearance at the hospital…and Addison was too overjoyed at being a new mom to be snide with the oh-so-now-you-can-support-me bit).

She could never manage to be subtle when she would curl herself against a sleeping Mark in search of closeness on those discomfiting mornings; her movements were always enough to make him stir. If she was teary-eyed, then Mark would share words of comfort by means of the everything's going to be okay chant that became a familiar rhythm in their life, but if Addison was not crying, he would simply alternate between sleepily playing with her hair and rubbing her back until she drifted off again, earning some more rest before the alarm sounded.

"Seems like we have the awake thing in common, then. You've done this procedure a lot, right?" Mark asks, zeroing in on the circumstances that have her up earlier than usual.

"I have. I stopped counting after I hit the tenth time. And that was years ago. I've just never been in a situation where my patient is Kevin's wife, and the mother of his children."

Mark grins when their exchange from last night returns to him. "Hey…" he is surprised by her concession. "You said Kevin."

"I did. I thought about it some more and I realized you're right: the dad is Kevin. There is a Caleb in the family though. Caleb is the other son. They have three kids: it's Caleb, then Maddie, then Griffin. So I wasn't…I wasn't completely wrong. And I know." Addison makes a slight huffing noise. "I sound exactly like the girls."

"You do. But for what it's worth, I definitely couldn't have named the other siblings, so maybe we call this one a tie." His lips are gentle when they edge against her hairline. "Do you want a surgical pep talk about how brilliant you are, or are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Addison shares. "It's not even the surgery itself, I guess. I know what I'm doing. Separating the blood vessels is the easy part, honestly. The more I think about it, it's more just…how it all plays out, afterwards, when the twins start to adjust to not affecting each other's development. The outcome data for a procedure like this – in most circumstances, at least one baby will be fine – but as far as both fetuses surviving, as far as two live births…it's fine, but it's not a one-hundred percent survival rate even with treatment, and there just…there just aren't any guarantees. But most of that is outside my control. The nerves will go away when I scrub in. How are you feeling about everything though? It's a big day for you, too."

"I'm feeling okay. A little nervous to see him, but…I mean, like I said before, it's not like we'll really get a chance to talk or anything." Mark gives her a small smile. "Hopefully Theo likes me."

"I'm sure he will. He's really cute. And I know the girls will love getting to play with him. They turn into such mother ducks around babies and toddlers. It's so surreal though…our kids are going to play together." It had been Addison's naïve hope for a time before Clara was born – and Mark's, too – that the man whose children she thought she would have could one day be friends with them again, and that his future children could be friends with the children that Addison actually did have.

"Yeah, it is. Hey…since we're up early…" Mark's hand outlines the dip of her waist. "Come get in the shower with me."

"The girls -"

"Won't be up for a while," he reminds her. "And if I'm wrong…they'll knock if they need us."

"A clean shower or a dirty shower?"

"I'm not going to pretend I don't have a preference, but either works."

"And either works because I always let you do that thing where you lather me up and wash me off…with a ridiculous amount of suds covering me." Addison laughs as she pushes back the comforter. "I don't really get why you enjoy that so much."

"Because it's your boobs. And it's soap. I don't think it really requires an explanation."

"What if…what if we don't hear them though?" She asks moments later when she is stripping out of her sleepwear and Mark is double-checking the lock on the bathroom door.

"You've met the one named Ruby, right?"

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Four Years Earlier

"Mama ouch," Clara announces when Mark returns to the living room. He cannot help but smile at her, and not just because she is currently wearing a fleece duck onesie with the cutest little hood. They are two days past Halloween, but it is an ongoing battle to get Clara to wear anything besides her costume, and since it is just about bedtime for her, Mark knows the main part of the battle is coming; Clara will not be happy when they attempt to put her in something more designed for a safe night's sleep. "Mama ouch," she repeats, banging a toy mallet against her xylophone while Addison observes from the couch.

"Are you making your mom do fake falls now, too?" Mark takes a seat beside Clara. My little NBA player, he recently said. Their daughter has realized in the past month that if she says ouch, no matter what her tone is like, her parents' heads will turn in her direction. And lately, sometimes ouch is accompanied by Clara dropping to the floor, apparently fully committed to turning out a convincing performance.

"It's okay, Clara. Mama is okay," Addison assures. "Mark…" she says next, and he looks over at her. "Mama ouch." She gives him a strained smile while pressing the heel of her hand against her lower back. "Actually ouch. Clara saw me wincing before you came in…it's not one of us pulling a theatrical LeBron flop. I'm in labor."

"Really? Are you…" Mark hesitates, because of all the things he does that annoy his wife – and he is self-aware enough to know there are plenty – his experience has been that questioning signs of early labor or anything related to Addison birthing a baby might just top the list. He has witnessed a handful of grimaces from her this evening that have made it clear she has been experiencing some discomfort, but they put in some serious steps at the Bronx Zoo today, so he had been chalking it up to that (because no, they did not need to skip going to Northern Ponds, and she was not tired of walking, so stop asking). "Are you…in need of anything at the moment?" He finishes with a wry-looking grin.

"That was a decent cover attempt, but to answer the question you refrained from asking: yes, I'm sure. It's not Braxton Hicks…these are baby-is-definitely-coming contractions. Someone was getting impatient in there, I guess. They're still spaced out, so we have time, but I'll text Lynette and ask if she can be on stand-by. I was just thinking that Paulina – well, hopefully she can relieve Lynette at some point tomorrow, if she's available – but as for coming later tonight, it's a Saturday night, so -"

"I wouldn't frame it that way to Lynette," Mark interrupts with a smirk. "She would resent your implication that she is any less social than Clara's thirty-something nanny."

"True. I'll touch base with Lynette first though…especially since Paulina wasn't expecting a call like this from us until closer to forty weeks. Are you able to do bedtime and the costume-related meltdown solo? As much as I want…" Addison bends her head in Clara's direction. "I think I'd probably be distracting for her while I try to work through the contractions."

"Yeah, of course. You'll let me know though if -"

"I'll come get you if I need you, I promise. Clarabelle…" Addison holds out her arms, and her daughter gets off the floor and happily walks over to her, never one to turn down affection. Addison lifts Clara into her lap and holds her as best she can with her midriff nearly serving as a boulder between them. "You're…you're my baby." She knew it would be emotional when the day finally arrived, when their almost twenty-month-old would no longer be their only child, but right now, in this moment, when it is real, Addison is powerless to stop the tears from budding in her eyes. "No matter how big you get, you will always, always be my baby." She can see Mark in her peripheral vision, angled slightly away, offering her some privacy. "My first baby. And I love you so much, my little duckling."

It is quiet when Addison proceeds upstairs a few minutes later. She suspects that the zoo wiped Clara out (and her, too, if she is being honest). The only sound is her own breathing, since the stairs leave her pretty winded now. She goes straight for their bedroom, stepping as softly as she can past Clara's cracked door. Her husband is still in there; that much Addison knows for sure, an awareness established not by sight or sound, but just sense. What she is less sure about is whether Mark is still rocking Clara because she has not fallen asleep yet, or if Clara is already asleep, but like Addison on the couch earlier, Mark is trying to savor more time with her. Addison is certain Ruby will not make an appearance before midnight…but that still makes tonight their very last night as a family of three.

She sits down on the edge of the bed, and acknowledges Mark with a muted hey when he joins her in the bedroom. He gives her a crooked smile, and then turns his back and busies himself with rooting through the bag he packed for the hospital, which is currently nestled beside hers and Ruby's near the bay window. They got most of their stuff together last week, wanting to be cautious, wanting to be prepared, even though Addison would have never expected they would needto be out the door with their belongings twenty-four days ahead of her due date.

"It's early," she says.

"I know." Mark shrugs as he continues to sift through his bag. "I just figured I'd move mine by the front door. You know I get antsy about the having the stuff all ready part. But I can bring your bag and Ruby's down later. I think we're all set for Ruby, but you can let me know if there's anything else we need to add for her, or for you. And Lynette texted me and said she talked to you and she's good to go for tonight and tomorrow, so just let me know when -"

"It's, um. Just…" Addison's voice cracks as she tries again to get his attention, and he pivots in time to see a tear slip down her cheek. "It's early."

"Hey…look at me." Mark crouches in front of her. "Look at me," he repeats gently, and Addison raises her head to meet his eyes. "It's okay. Ruby's healthy. We know she's healthy. At your appointment last week…her heartbeat sounded good, and her measurements looked good, remember? She's healthy. And you're healthy, too. Babies come early sometimes. Thirty-seven weeks is okay. It's early, but it's not premature." He pats Addison's knee. "And I know you know all that. There's no reason not to believe you won't have a safe delivery though. And Ruby is going to be just fine. Okay?" Addison gives him a small nod as she wipes at her nose with the back of her hand. "You wanna know something nerdy? Nerdy but cool?" Mark adds, and she nods again. "Tomorrow is November third. So, her birthday will be 11/3. And Clara is 3/11. They match."

"Ruby Josephine," Addison whispers. Her husband never disagreed with her, but realistically, she knows that Ruby's middle name – a literary nod – is more her style than his.

"Ruby Josephine," he echoes. "A perfect name for a perfect little woman." It is enough to make Addison smile through her tears. It will be years before Ruby (hopefully) enjoys learning about the adventures of the daring and bright Jo March, but Addison liked selecting a copy of Little Women anyway and sliding it among the baby books on Ruby's bookcase.

"My rings…" she glances towards her nightstand, where her wedding ring and engagement ring are tucked safely away. It makes Addison a little sad to go without them, but her fingers have been swelling lately, and although she knows there are tricks to get stubborn jewelry off, she has never quite forgotten a former patient of hers whose fingers ballooned so much that her rings had to be cut off. My not finished rings, she has also thought of the ones Mark gave her as, because they have held off on adding a birthstone for Ruby; it felt like it would have been bad juju to get a topaz stone ahead of their second daughter's birth. "I think this was Ruby's way of firing a warning shot." Addison has a slight smirk on her face when she shares this with Mark. "Like she was saying, 'you know, I could have come in October and been an opal, if I wanted to.' I think…I think I might take a shower." It sounds like a decent place to start, at least. Addison can remember how good it felt when she was in early labor with Clara, and how it eased a few of the contractions, to let hot water pound against her back. "And…" she nods when Mark helps her stand up. "Yes, you can come with me."

"You're allowed to tell me 'no,' just as long as you understand that if you do…" Mark says as they slowly make their way to the attached bathroom. "I'm probably gonna linger awkwardly outside the shower in case you need me."

"It's okay. You're invited." It felt like he had hovered so much while she was laboring in the old apartment with Clara, but Addison understood, and the truth is, she is craving closeness right now. She grabs the baby monitor off the dresser before they slip into the bathroom – Clara's baby monitor, not the baby monitor, she reminds herself, because they now have one waiting for Ruby, too. "I don't want to tell you 'no.'"

"Funny…that's exactly why you're in this situation." Mark hears her laugh quietly while he lifts the faucet handle to get the shower started. He quickly steps out of his clothes and then holds his hand beneath the water, gauging its warmth for longer than necessary in order for Addison to get the rest of the way undressed without him paying much attention to the process. She might want nearness, but Mark knows from the last time they went through this that there are lines between helping and helping too much, and watching and watching too much, and the receiving end of those lines usually involves him getting snarled at. "I've got you," he says once they are under the stream of water and Addison seems to be assessing how to best position herself to stay balanced. Mark secures his arms around her, trying to take on as much of her slippery weight as he can. "I won't let you fall."

"You better not. Wait. Why…" Addison snaps at his waistband, giggling a little. "Why are you still wearing your boxers?"

"I have no idea. It just sort of happened." Mark notices as the amused look on her face changes into an expression of pain. Addison clenches her jaw, and her fingernails accidentally sink into his shoulder as another contraction rolls through her. "Keep breathing through it, bunny," he urges, and she lets out a short, sharp gasp. "You're doing great."

Water continues to sluice around them, the majority of it thumping against Addison's back. Mark isn't really timing anything yet, but two more contractions have come and gone since the first one he tried to coach her through. He guides a few wet strands of hair away from her face, and she peers up at him, tired but determined-looking.

"This is going to be one hell of a utility bill next month," he says with a smile.

"Well, we're not going to have time for anything other than really, really quick showers once she's here, so I think it all cancels out in the end. I need…I think I need to sit down. Here." Addison shakes her head when Mark makes a move to help her out of the shower. "I fucking want to sit here. Sorry…it's okay." She tries to soften her words – and her language – when she sees the concern on Mark's face. "I'm okay. I just want to sit down, but I want to keep feeling the water on my back."

Addison does not change her mind once he has helped her ease onto the floor, but she does change her position. The end result is Addison lying down, body stretched across polished marble and the side of her head cushioned by one of Mark's boxer-clad thighs. He takes advantage of the dual showerhead system by positioning the handheld part close to Addison's lower back, and occasionally drawing its bursts of water over the swell of her stomach and up to her chest to ensure she stays warm. Between contractions, she breathes easily, gently, as though she could fall asleep. Her eyes are closed, and for a moment, Mark thinks maybe she is sleeping, but then he spots a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"This feels so undignified," she reports. "But I guess…I guess I'm not sorry that you wore your boxers after all."

"I sort of am," Mark jokes, and she is able to laugh.

"As though I'm interested in putting my hands or mouth anywhere near the thing that's the reason I'm in so much pain right now." They are both still laughing when the next contraction wraps around her. I've got you, Mark reminds her, and if Addison were not trying to both lean into and lean away from the pain, she would tell him, I know. You always do.

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The words they share with one another in the shower sound like heartbeats. They talk while droplets of hot water cling to them, clinging in the same way they are now clinging to each other, bodies pressed close.

Once Addison's hair starts to hang in thick, wet ropes around her shoulders, Mark washes it for her, and she sighs happily as his fingers scrape against her scalp. They exchange a few kisses afterwards, and she laughs when Mark's stubble tickles her cheek. But it is the kind of laugh that sounds like a sob, too.

"I don't know why I'm crying," she admits. It is really just a statement, because neither an apology nor any feelings of embarrassment accompany it. Addison has moved beyond that. If she has learned anything from Mark, it is that she can always be herself with him. A deep, rich, measureless kind of love means that whatever she says or does not say, does or does not do, all of it is enough.

"I know. It's okay. You know, you mentioned the water earlier…I was thinking about the water, too, actually. Last night."

Addison smirks at him. "You weren't thinking about Ruby? How dare you."

"It's sort of Ruby-related, since it involves me being a daredevil. When I was thirteen, I went with the Shepherds to the Adirondacks. I was trying to convince Derek to jump off a cliff with me at Split Rock Falls…there was a pool below. He didn't want to do it though. He was…smarter than me, about things like that. But I told him that he could trust me." Mark reaches a hand out to cup her cheek. "You and the girls are my dream," he says, voice a little thicker now. "But I wish I could have gotten my dream without hurting him…and without taking away from the fact that before you and me started sleeping together, he absolutely could have always trusted me."

"I know." Addison leans forward to rest her head on his chest. "I know."

It is just water and steam and contact now. Silence follows. More moments pass. It is all leading somewhere though, and Addison eventually threads a hand down Mark's stomach to grasp him in her palm. He lets her build a steady rhythm, enjoying the sensation as she strokes him, before it all becomes too much and he needs more of her. He walks her towards the nearest wall, and once he has steadied his hands against her hamstrings and Addison has circled her arms around his neck for support, he lifts her up.

"God," Mark mutters when he pushes inside her. "You feel so good." It is more than just her muscles surrounding him though, more than the sinewy feel of her legs folded tightly around his waist, more than the gasp she makes against his mouth when he rolls his hips into hers. It is all of this. This life.

"You never finished telling me what happened," Addison says later while working a towel through her wet hair. "When you and Derek were at that jumping spot…did you end up jumping?" She glances over at Mark, and when he meets her gaze, she can see that his eyes are soft, and a little glossy-looking.

"We jumped together."

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Four Years Earlier

"I think that's them…" Mark states when he can hear two familiar voices coming down the hallway. Quicker than he thought, honestly. Lynette texted to let him know that she and Clara had reached the pavilion entrance, but Clara usually prefers walking to being carried, and since walking to a destination with a one and-a-half year old happens in incremental moments, Mark knew there was really no accounting for how long it would take Clara and Lynette to reach the postpartum floor. He stares at Addison when he reveals their visitors are close by, but the bone-deep exhaustion from this morning's delivery and the sweeping, dreamy-eyed look of getting to be a mother all over again means it takes her another second to register what Mark has shared with her. Addison draws in an excited breath in anticipation, and the delayed reaction is enough to make him grin and dip down to kiss her cheek before going to collect the remaining member of their family. It has been less than twenty-four hours since they uttered their respective goodnights to their older daughter and Mark rocked her to sleep, but it feels longer, especially when they take into account that other than their honeymoon weekend in Westhampton, they have never spent a night apart from Clara at the same time.

Addison looks at Ruby, who is sleeping peacefully in her arms, cradled with the support of a nursing pillow that is helping keep some of the pressure off Addison's lower abdomen. Your big sister is here, Addison whispers, and then she brings her lips together to stall laughter when she hears the aggressive reverberation of the door lever, a sign that Lynette is being patient enough to allow Clara to try to get the door open without assistance. Addison watches as Mark reaches out to seize the lever and open the door to ease the cacophony of noise that is going to continue otherwise.

"Hi, sweet girl…" Mark scoops Clara into his arms, and after all six pounds and three ounces of Ruby, his first baby seems so unfairly big and grown up in comparison. He kisses Clara's cheek, and then notices the crewneck fleece sweater she is wearing with Big Sister stitched across it in curly red letters. Addison had purchased the sweater months ago, and then they tucked it away in a drawer…but leave it to Lynette to have found it, and to somehow have gotten Clara to not show up in the duck costume, all on top of using today to cancel and reschedule and outsource Mark's appointments and procedures for the upcoming week. He was planning to work until the third week of November, and then turn things over to his physician assistants so that he could be off with Addison and the girls until January, but Ruby's early arrival has triggered some additional adjustments. "I know…I know…" he murmurs when Clara spots Addison and squeals out a happy-sounding Mommy! "Give me one second, kiddo." He looks back at Lynette, who is easing a tote bag containing a few of Clara's things off her shoulder. "You're getting, like, quadruple the usual holiday bonus for all of this, you know. So she was -"

"She was an angel, as always. She did really well. She was all smiles when I got her out of her crib this morning." Lynette proceeds to offer a quick recap of their day, and although it is practically word-for-word what she previously texted Mark, he appreciates her saying it again anyway, especially for Addison. Ruby was born a few minutes after seven this morning. They wanted to have time with her just for themselves – first in the OR while Addison was being closed up, then in the recovery room, and now in a private room on the postpartum floor – and also some time to allow Addison to get some rest while Ruby slept, but it still felt like too long to be without Clara, and Mark could see that Addison was starting to get anxious about the extended absence. Since starting her maternity leave in early October, she has not spent much time apart from Clara. "Now go in there so she can see her mama and meet her sister. Hey…" Lynette sends a blown kiss in Addison's direction. "Good job," she tells her. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you." Addison cannot help beaming at the praise, in the same way she cannot help brushing one of her fingers along the blanket currently covering her legs. The blanket Lynette made for her was one of the first things she packed when she was starting to get her things together for the hospital. "Aren't you…" she witnesses Lynette take a step closer to the door. "You can come in and -"

"No, no. You enjoy your family time first. I'll meet Ruby when I come back in a few hours," she says, and Addison gives her a small, solemn nod. Clara cannot stay with them overnight, as much as she would like for her to, and Lynette said she is fine with watching Clara for another night before Paulina comes in the morning to relieve her. Addison is trying not to think about the goodbye part right now though. "Mark said six," Lynette continues, "but just text if you want to change the time. I'm going to grab something from the gift shop on my way out."

Mark shakes his head. "Ruby doesn't need -"

"For Clara. Not that she needs anything either, but having some fun new toys to entice her with when we go home might help," Lynette interjects, and Mark nods in response. It is a thoughtful idea, not to mention a smart one. He and Addison know Clara will be upset when they do not leave with her tonight, and there will unfortunately be repeat performances, since their hospital stay is going to be longer this time. You could always go home at night. I can call for a nurse if I need something, Addison had suggested, but Mark quietly shook her off. He understands the place of guilt and worry for Clara that she is speaking from, but realistically Addison needs him, too. They had debated if it would be easier to not have Lynette bring Clara, and not have Paulina bring her tomorrow and Tuesday, and just have Clara meet Ruby when they get home, but time apart does not sit well with them. Montgomery-Sloans stick together. Or, thanks to Clara, whose love for ducks has reawakened a movie quote in Mark that perhaps amuses him more than it should: ducks fly together.

"Hi, Clara." Addison gives her daughter a tender squeeze when Mark lowers her onto the hospital bed. "I'm so glad you're here, kiddo. Do you know who this is?" Clara peeks at Ruby and whispers the word baby. "That's right," Addison coos while Mark rearranges Clara so that she can lean closer to Ruby. "This is Ruby. This is your baby sister."

It is everything Addison and Mark could have hoped for, and they know they made the right decision by having Lynette bring Clara to Mount Sinai and not prolonging the first meeting between sisters. Clara is curious about the infant curled in Addison's arms, and her touch is gentle as she pets her sister's cheek. Her twin, practically. She looks just like Clara was one of the first things Addison said this morning when Ruby was placed on her chest.

"No, not right now," Mark says when Clara traces her thumb over Ruby's faint eyebrow after spending some time poking at the identification band on Ruby's wrist. The eyebrow stroking is adorable, but Mark knows from experience what is about to follow: an attempt to lift Ruby's eyelid to make her "wake up." Neither he nor Addison are clear on how or where Clara learned this little "trick," but it is definitely not one of their favorites. "Baby sister is sleeping," he tells Clara when she glances at him. "She'll wake up later. Hey, Clara…Ruby got you a present." He smiles at Addison; that had been her idea. "She got you something because she's so excited that she gets to live with you and be your sister. Do you want to see?"

When Clara nods, more than familiar with the word present, Mark carries her to the sleeper sofa, where they have a book about big sisters waiting for her (to add to the growing collection they have introduced over the past few months) and a Noah's Ark plush playset (the odds of it keeping Clara busy while they are here are good, as are the odds of some of the animal pairs accidentally getting left behind). Clara makes it clear that she wants to sit next to her mother again (but with her presents), so Mark brings her back to the bed, and he and Addison get a kick out of watching Clara place a tiny stuffed lion and elephant on Ruby's belly.

"I know it would have been cute," Addison remarks after a nurse has kindly taken a few pictures of the four of them, "and the sort of thing we would have looked back on and laughed about, but I'm so glad our first pictures as a family of four didn't involve that God damn d-u-c-k costume."

Mark chuckles. "I love that you said the swear word, but opted to spell out the other word." He observes Clara add a monkey to the collection of animals now on Ruby.

"We're so lucky," Addison says, which is exactly what he is thinking.

. .
. .

Matchy-match. That is what his wife would call it, Mark is pretty sure. The girls currently have a certain neatness to them that makes it look like they are taking holiday pictures today with Danielle, or like they are shooting the hypothetical cover of a toy catalogue. Mark has scraped their hair into ponytails that are sleek and somehow still flyaway-free, and the girls each have a ribbon threaded through their hair ties. That was what Clara wanted, and then Ruby, a total individualist but also a copycat in the way that younger sisters often are, requested the same thing. Their outfits are similar for that reason, too. Clara came downstairs wearing a top with polka dots along the sleeves and a thick-lashed unicorn with pink hair on the front, so Ruby ran back upstairs to put on hers, where the only difference is that the sleeves are striped and the unicorn has a silver horn rather than a gold one. I can't really explain why, and I know they're kind of ridiculous, but the shirts made me think of your mom, Addison told Mark when she bought them. She never knew Jenny, but Mark has discovered that she just somehow…knows his mother in small, intimate ways that go beyond the things he has told her. Because Mark can't really say why either, but he agreed with Addison about the unicorn shirts. He sent her a picture of the girls this morning once they were dressed, and she responded with a heart eyes emoji. She left for NYP earlier than she probably needed to, but Mark has not questioned anything about her process, because his directive when they got out of the shower was clear: I've got the girls. Just do whatever you need to do.

The matchy-match thing fills him with a sense of wistfulness as he waits in one of the hospital family rooms for Derek and Theo to arrive. Eventually his girls will reach ages where they won't want to be matchy-match, or even close to matchy-match. He takes a look at them now. Clara is sitting close to him on one of the couches, watching the door with a sense of anticipation, equal parts nervousness and excitement. A stuffed giraffe for Theo – she doesn't have a hippo, but she has plenty of animals you can find at the zoo – is tucked in her arms. Ruby is currently on the other side of the room playing with cardboard blocks, and Mark suspects she will remain with the blocks in lieu of greeting their guests. Ruby is a perfectly friendly child, and much more outgoing than her sister, but Mark has noticed that she gets in the zone when it comes to building things. I'm calling it now, he remembers Priya saying a few months ago. She's either going to be a surgeon or an engineer. Or…or she's maybe just going to join the circus.

Mark gives Clara's shoulder a light bump. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Uh-huh," she answers. "Just waiting for them." Yeah, me too, he thinks. His stomach has felt heavy all morning.

There is a muted knock, and Mark rises to his feet as the door opens and he comes face-to-face with his past. Part of his past, at least, because the little boy who is clutching Derek's hand is new to him. And Addison wasn't kidding – Theo does look exactly like Derek. Not just Derek now, which would be obvious to anyone, but Derek then, which is really only obvious to those who are or at least were folded intimately into Derek's life. Mark did not know Derek when they were Theo's age, but pictures that preserve Derek's babyhood and toddlerhood filled many of the collage frames in the Shepherds' hallway. Carolyn never replaced any pictures as the kids grew older – she just added more frames, for more pictures. Mark can still see so many of those pictures clearly: what Derek was doing in certain pictures, which pictures Mark himself was in, and which pictures contained an accidental fingerprint-shadowed edge.

The Derek in front of him now still looks like Derek. Just…a slightly older Derek. Pictures can preserve, can freeze. Time itself has no such luxury, and when Mark looks at the man he has not seen in almost seven years, he can see the flecks of gray feathered through his hair, the subtle lines etched into his forehead, and the cheeks that have less projection. Mark understands it better than most, given his line of work: faces change with age.

Everything changes with age.

He and Derek give each other a small nod and then approach, and as if it were planned, they kneel at the same time, in that parental sort of way to greet each other's kids at eye level. They look at each other first though, and Mark finds himself feeling relieved. He had been harboring a fear – no matter how irrational it might be – that Derek would refuse to look at him.

Derek's gaze transfers to Clara, and he speaks first. "You must be Clara," he says, eyes briefly flickering to the stuffed animal in her arms. "My name is Derek, and this is Theo." The little boy is no longer holding Derek's hand, but he is leaning against him, and casually sucking his thumb. "You look like your mom," Derek adds, perhaps spontaneously, and Mark finds himself wondering if Derek is thinking what Addison admitted she thought when she saw Theo: this is Derek's son, but at one point, in another lifetime, it would have been her son, too.

"Except her hair is redder," Clara volunteers as Derek sets Theo's diaper bag on the floor. Then Clara holds the giraffe out. She is looking at Theo, but her words are intended for Derek: "This is for Theo."

"What do you say, Theo?" Derek gently takes the giraffe from Clara, and hands it to Theo, who pops his thumb out of his mouth to happily circle both arms around the animal. "Clara brought this for you to play with. Can you tell her, 'thank you?' Go on," Derek prompts when Theo tucks his head a little closer to the giraffe's neck, avoiding looking at Clara and Mark. "Can you say 'thank you,' please?"

"He says 'thanks' like Ruby used to." Clara grins at Mark when Theo offers her a bashful thank you. "With the 'h' missing."

"I know that 'h' is a letter!" Ruby's defensive voice comes out cannon-loud in the confines of the room. It is truly the most Ruby-ish way to introduce herself that Mark can think of. He looks at Theo, but luckily he does not seem alarmed by the sudden increase in volume, or by the small brunette who is now peeping at him from behind a steadily-growing tower of blocks.

"Hey, Rubes…this is Derek and Theo." Mark raises his eyebrows. "Can you say hello, please?"

Ruby gives a little wave of her hand in their general direction. "Hi, Derek. Hi, Free-oh. Wait." She catches herself this time. "How do you say it again?"

"Theo," Mark repeats.

"Hi, Theo. I'm playing with blocks." Ruby demonstrates this by reaching for another red block in the pile, humming as she does, which is also a Ruby-ish introduction. She usually delights in having an audience.

"You like blocks," Derek says encouragingly to Theo, who is more focused on the giraffe.

"Raff." Theo hugs the giraffe a little tighter.

"That's how he says 'giraffe.' Does the giraffe have a name, Clara?" Derek's voice is kind, and his words are engaging, and it doesn't surprise Mark. Derek is good with kids. It's not an act, it's not for show. He's just…good at this. He always has been. But then, Mark knows this is the sort of thing that he is good at now, too. "Theo usually calls his stuffed animals whatever kind of animal they are. Cat is cat, bear is bear…things like that."

"I called him 'Spot' when I was little," Clara tells Derek, and Mark cannot help but smile. You're still little. "But Theo can call him 'Raff.' My goldfish…my goldfish is named 'Goldie,' and that's sort of a nickname for 'goldfish,' so my goldfish is kind of named 'Goldfish.'" The Derek thing from before wasn't surprising to Mark, but the fact that his daughter is willingly offering so much extra information is something surprising. Clara tends to be shy around people she doesn't know, especially adults.

"That's right. Your mom told me about your fish," Derek says. "Goldie and Moonbean."

Mark sees Clara's shoulders pull back. She gives Derek a grave nod at the mention of Moonbean, and he offers her silent kudos for just…fighting through had been so upset during the Moonbeam versus Moonbean debacle, and restraining herself in this moment feels pretty big, because Mark can see how much she wants to make sure that Derek knows that she knows that "moonbean" is not a word.

"Look at me. Look at me," Mark had said a few months ago when they brought the fish home (won while playing a carnival game at Clara's school, and somehow still alive), and Clara was absolutely hysterical about Ruby deciding that her fish was going to be called Moonbean. "We know." He gestured at himself and Addison as the two of them and Clara formed some sort of ridiculous trust circle. He and Addison had laughed about it later when the girls were sleeping. "We know it's not right, but that's what Ruby wants to name her fish, so we're just going to let the fish be 'Moonbean' okay?"

It's funny. Whenever one of his daughters mispronounces a word, Addison is the first person Mark wants to tell, but Derek is still the second, even after years of silence. He can still remember that Amelia pronounced cheeseburger as "cheese-birder" for the longest time. Mark did not have younger siblings, so these quirky words and the fact that everyone just went along with it confused him at the time – dude, why don't you guys tell her she's saying it wrong? – but he gets it now. He will be crushed the day that "butterguys" and "soup case" disappear from Ruby's vocabulary, and he will be equally crushed if someone ever tries to correct her.

"Theo…why don't you take Raff and go with Clara over to the blocks. You and Clara and Ruby can play together. Come on." Derek stands up. "I'll go with you." He gives Mark a look that states, I'll be right back, and Mark feels a tug at his heart when Clara and Theo sit down near Ruby. Theo is sitting close enough to Clara that their legs are touching. Ruby hands him a block – she has both a tower and multiple smaller structures going now – but she (thankfully) does not dictate anything about where Theo can place the blocks, so the little boy happily starts making his own creation, with Derek crouched beside him. Derek lingers for a few moments, a hand resting on Theo's back. When Derek makes his way back towards Mark, Theo looks over his shoulder at him, assessing where his dad is going, but then Derek stops in front of Mark, so Theo's attention shifts back to the blocks.

"So, uh, his stuff is in here." Derek lifts up the diaper bag. "His water is here." He points to a cup in one of the front pockets that has a top meant to be a penguin face. Mark can feel the words, We have that one in orange, lodged in his throat. "It looks like they have plenty of things in the room to keep him entertained, but I packed a few books and a few race cars." He pats a larger front pocket. "And there's a fruit pouch and some dry cereal in here, but he probably won't be hungry for a bit. I'll take him to get lunch when I pick him up. And then there's diapers and wipes in the middle…" Derek gives him a strained, guilty-tinged look as he hands over the bag. "You probably thought you were done with that stage. He's been showing signs he's ready, and we were hoping to have him fully potty-trained before the twins arrive, but things have just been…" he shrugs uncomfortably. "Yeah."

"It's okay," Mark says, and he finds himself adding, "The girls were potty-trained a little after two. Ruby was closer to two and-a-half, actually. M&M's worked with them as an incentive." He thinks about what Addison said earlier: the idea that their children would be playing together is surreal. And now that it is happening, yes, it is surreal, but it is also looks picture-perfect. His girls are giggling and cooing Theo's name as they both glide into some sort of sisterly role – probably both vying for his attention – and they're just…the three of them are playing so nicely together. And here is Mark with Derek, swapping parenting tips. Also surreal.

A block tower comes crashing down, and Theo is laughing along with the girls now. Mark did not see it fall, but he thinks it was on purpose; sometimes the girls like to push them over, but sort of act like it was an accident. Mark remembers doing that with Derek as kids, too, with similar-looking blocks. The blocks at the Shepherd house were different colors – secondary colors, because Mark thinks things like this, as a dad – but otherwise the same. Liz and Amelia sometimes joined in, and when Derek and Mark were a little older, they would act like they were the ones joining in, just trying to look after the younger girls while Carolyn was busy, but the truth is, neither was quite ready to give up this activity yet. Sometimes they wanted to see how high they could go with the blocks. But sometimes they built it up just to knock it all down.

"Addison said the procedure usually takes fifteen minutes to a half hour, and then I'll stay with Meredith in recovery for a bit while the sedation is wearing off. I probably won't be more than an hour. There's some books in his bag, and a security blanket he likes to sleep with…those things usually help when…" Derek sighs lightly. "He's going to be really upset when he realizes I've left."

"I can handle it."

Derek cocks his head in the direction of the kids. "Not if they handle it first," he says, smiling a little. Mark knows he is right. His girls seem captivated by Theo, and Ruby also likes opportunities like this, to get to be a protector of sorts, to not be the littlest sibling. "I'll have my phone on me though," Derek continues, "if anything comes up. And I'll text when I'm on my way back."

"We'll be fine. And…and everything else will be fine, too, I'm sure."

"Yeah. I hope so. I better…" Derek takes a quick glance at the wall clock. "I'm going to slip out quietly. Thank you for watching him. Really. Thank you." He gives Mark a nod, just like he did when he came into the room, and then moves towards the door.

"Derek." Mark is careful to keep his voice low. Even if being sensitive to Derek's exit for Theo's sake were not a factor though, he is pretty sure he could not say what he wants to say at a regular volume. It is too deeply vulnerable. Derek makes a quarter turn to look at him. "It's…it's good to see you."

Derek gives him a small smile in response. Maybe a sad one. "It's good to see you, too."

. .
. .

Four Years Earlier

"Did she start crying when you…when you handed her over?"

Mark barely has a foot back in the room when Addison poses the question. She looks devastated and on the verge of tears when he meets her eyes. The second attempt at Clara visiting the hospital has gone incredibly different from the first. Last night, she left their room without protest because by the time Lynette had finished fussing over Ruby, it was close to Clara's bedtime. Her head was lolling on Mark's shoulder when he transferred her into Lynette's arms. He was hopeful today would play out similarly because he has kept Clara busy, and by all accounts, they have had a good day. Paulina dropped Clara off at the hospital after lunch. He and Addison took turns reading books with Clara and laughing over the animals in her ark that she was still enjoying covering her sister with. She took a short nap next to Addison after that, and when she woke up and was restless, Addison gave Mark a few it's fine, we'll be fine, just go nudges, so Mark took Clara across the street to Bendheim Playground to get some wiggles out, and then to the Plaza Cafeteria for a snack.

The mood shifted when Paulina came back to the hospital to pick Clara up though. Paulina, who Clara adores. Whenever Clara makes "phone calls" on her toy phone, "Paulina" is always the answer when Mark and Addison ask her who she is talking to. And there are mornings where either Mark or Addison will be holding Clara when Paulina arrives, and their daughter will practically fling herself out of their arms to get to her nanny. And Paulina is inexplicably the only one who Clara will not scream with when it comes to trimming her fingernails.

"She knows what's happening," Addison said when Paulina's return prompted Clara to immediately scoot closer to Addison and eye her nanny warily. They took their time with the departure process, trying to be gentle and considerate, and after Addison put Ruby back in the bassinet so that she could give Clara a more thorough hug, Mark gathered Clara into his arms and walked with Paulina out to the Lyft he ordered them. He knew that would help in the sense that it would prevent Addison from seeing the entirety of Clara's meltdown, but he knew it would not help in the sense that a meltdown was unavoidable.

"Just a few tears when I handed her over," Mark tells her, but he knows that he is not a good liar, and even if he was, his wife probably would not believe him. "She's okay though. She -"

"Oh, my God." Addison starts to cry before he can continue to spin a sugarcoated answer, when the reality involved a red-faced, indignantly howling and thrash-legged toddler whose fingers he had to heartbreakingly pry from his jacket. "She probably did the thing where she was clinging to you and Paulina had to peel her off. My baby," she chokes out as Mark takes a seat on the side of her bed, trying to sit as close to her as he can. Addison's eyes briefly dart towards Ruby – her other baby – and mercifully, their two-day-old is still asleep. "This is too much for Clara. I shouldn't…we shouldn't have…"

"Shh…" Mark soothes. "Try not to get upset." His tone is firmer than he would prefer, and while he does not want to shush Addison or dictate her feelings because that is not really fair, he can see how her upper body is pulsing when she sobs, which cannot feel good on her abdominal muscles or incision site. "Clara is going to be -"

"You should be with her," she whimpers. The noise sounds wounded, animal-like. "You should stay at the house tonight. I'll be fine."

Mark gathers her into his arms when she draws in a ragged breath. "Bunny…you can barely lift Ruby right now." He feels bad for pointing it out, but it is true; Addison's post-procedure discomfort shows on her face when she even as much as leans towards the bassinet.

"I can call for a nurse. Morgan helped me earlier when you guys were at the playground."

"I know. And I know the nurses here are great. But I'm not going to leave you guys overnight." He presses his lips to the side of her head when she whimpers again. "Look, Clara was upset. And yeah, she did the clinging monkey thing. But she'll be okay. She's tiny but mighty. Paulina will text us some updates once she's settled. Remember…remember that weekend when Savvy and Weiss were in Vermont and we looked after Phoebe for them? She screamed bloody murder when they left, but then she calmed down, and the rest of the weekend was fine, remember?" Addison nods against his chest, the top of her head lightly knocking into his chin. "I know this is hard being apart from her, and I know it's hard that she was so upset, but it won't be too much longer until the four of us are together again. We'll be able to break outta here soon." He concentrates on tracing small, slow circles on Addison's upper back until she is able to stop crying. Eventually, he feels her nuzzle her nose against his throat, which is usually an Addison signal for this feels nice. "You really needed a hug, huh?" He adds kindly, and she manages to produce a light laugh. "It'll be okay, Red. I promise."

It is a promise Mark can keep. A few minutes later, his phone vibrates with an update.

"She's watching a show." He gives Addison the phone so that she can see a picture Paulina took of Clara clutching the iPad in her lap and staring intently at the screen. "Probably that weird one with the bear. And the Happy Meal that Paulina ordered is five minutes away."

"We really don't deserve her," Addison says in reference to their nanny, and he nods in agreement. They did get lucky with her. "Just…" she hands Mark his phone back. "Just tell Paulina thank you for everything, and that Clara can have as much screen time as she wants. You can tell she's been crying…her cheeks were still pink-looking in the picture." Addison pats her face, and though she does not have a mirror handy, she can imagine she has similar hints of recent tears. "Like mother like daughter. And there's the other crier." She is beginning to hear noises from Ruby now – not crying though, just cute little squeaks and grunts – and Addison doesn't know if she's giggling because it's actually funny, or if she has reached the point of overtiredness where everything is somehow funny in one way or another. "You're the only Sloan who hasn't cracked tonight."

Addison undoes the front snaps of her maternity top and shifts onto her side, her preferred position for breastfeeding so far, while Mark handles changing a wet diaper. Tell me if there's anything I can do to support you, he murmurs afterwards when he places their daughter next to Addison. He means it, naturally, and it just…feels like the right thing to say, especially right now. He can remember those early days with a newborn Clara, too, when they were trying to learn her hunger cues, and mostly, Addison and Clara were trying to learn from each other. It took time, and practice, and persistence, and accepting that struggling didn't mean failing. He knows that his wife doesn't really need much at this point though as she tilts Ruby's chin up to help her get a good latch – just quiet encouragement.

"I'm not being a very good mom to her right now," Addison says woefully when Ruby is finally suckling, and a calmness that Addison was struggling to activate earlier has started to drape over her. "I'm too busy crying about Clara."

"You're being a good mom." Mark can see her apprehension, but her eyes are also so full of love whenever she looks at Ruby. That incredible fierceness, that devotion he saw the moment Clara was in Addison's arms – it was there the moment Ruby was handed to her, too. "You're being a good mom to both of them. And you're doing your best." This gets a smile out of Addison. They said this so many times with Clara, too, especially in the beginning. You're doing your best. I'm doing my best. We're doing our best. It was how they survived those first few weeks.

She nods. "We're all doing our best. I'm just…I'm so tired."

"I know. I know you are." He also knows she is concerned about falling asleep while feeding. "Close your eyes if you need to. I've got her." They both have a hand resting on Ruby's back. "I won't let anything happen to her." Addison nods fuzzily in response, but she stays awake until Ruby falls asleep at her breast, and she offers a hushed thanks when Mark puts Ruby in her bassinet again.

"You feeling a little better, Red?"

"I am. You should get some sleep." She points in the direction of the sleeper sofa when Mark takes a seat in the chair near her bed.

"I will. I'm just going to stay with you for a few more minutes first."

"I'm okay though. Just emotional. And exhausted." Mark folds one of her hands in his. "And feeling a hefty dose of 'mom guilt' about Clara not being here, and…" Addison's voice quivers a little. "And Clara feeling so sad when she realized we weren't leaving with her. I don't want this to be hard for her."

"All the Montgomery-Sloan ducks will be flying together again soon." He gives her hand a supportive squeeze. "And Clara will be okay – this isn't going to have any lasting effect on her. We haven't scarred her for life over spending a few nights away from her."

Addison blinks at him drowsily. "The best part…the best part about being married to you is getting to hold your hand whenever I feel like it."

"That's the best part?"

"Well, one of the best parts."

. .
. .

Addison is thinking about what it means to be pregnant, to carry a child inside of you, as she walks into the OR where the team is waiting for her. All ways of becoming a mother are valid ones, and deserve to be acknowledged, of course, and she knows that she would have been willing to explore any avenue if…well, if a lot of things, if she hadn't fallen into a wonderful life with Mark, and then Clara, and then Ruby. When it comes to those final weeks of a pregnancy though, and the delivery itself, she is thinking about how all those hormones and muscles and emotions make for a formidable combination.

The patient currently lying on the surgical table has a ways to go before delivery. Hopefully, at least. Addison is hoping that Meredith can make it to at least thirty-four weeks. She does the math in her head while the scrub tech assists her in putting on gloves and a surgical gown, and she grins beneath her mask when she realizes that thirty-four weeks on the nose will actually be November third, which is Ruby's birthday.

"Dr. Montgomery…you might want to…" Charlene, who is among the NYP staff who will be assisting on the procedure, tilts her head towards the head of the table. Addison nods in understanding, and walks over to Meredith. She knows Charlene would normally offer support, and she cannot think of a better nurse to provide comfort to a patient while a surgeon is still getting ready; Charlene is as motherly and comforting towards her patients as she is with her one-year-old son (who is a favorite of Clara and Ruby's). Charlene is hanging back though, perhaps recognizing the oddness of this situation…and of course she would recognize it. Addison had quietly shared with her this morning who the patient is married to. And Charlene has been at NYP for twelve years now. She lived through the before.

"Hi there." Addison looks down at her patient. Meredith's eyes seem huge beneath the OR lights, and she has the tense-jawed look of someone who is trying not to cry. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," she replies croakily. "This just…this isn't what I thought would be happening. This isn't what should be happening." Meredith is speaking quicker now. "My daughters are simultaneously sick and committing full-scale mutiny in there, and my…my husband's ex-wife is doing the procedure to help my babies. Sorry." She winces, embarrassed about this outpouring of feelings.

"I'm doing a procedure on my ex-husband's wife. It's not how I thought I'd be spending my Tuesday, either," Addison says, wanting to ease Meredith's nerves with some humor.

"While you should be on vacation."

"It's okay. This is more important. We're going to go to our place next week. This isn't an inconvenience."

Meredith gives her a thin smile. "I don't really know anything about the Hamptons, but yesterday, Derek said something like, 'I bet Addie's mom told her that Westhampton isn't the real Hamptons.'" Addison cannot help but laugh. Bizzy never said that, but Addison does remember expressing to Mark once when they were first talking about Westhampton that Bizzy probably would say that. "I just thought it was kind of cute," Meredith continues. "He still knows you." She pauses, and seems to reconsider her phrasing. "Or sort of knows you."

Sort of is the correct way to put it, in Addison's opinion. So much has changed in the past seven years – everything has changed. She looks up, and Derek is now standing in the gallery. He raises his hand, and she inclines her head in acknowledgment.

"Look who's here," she tells Meredith, and she can see the relief on Meredith's face when she shifts her head to the side and notices Derek. He waves his hand again.

Derek does know her, given their shared history, but he does not know all of her, specifically the vulnerable parts that Addison was always hesitant to consistently share throughout their marriage. But there are smaller things, too. Small, daily, as-ordinary-as-breathing things. And Addison knows the same logic applies to what she knows and does not know about her ex-husband. Maybe he takes his coffee differently now, in the same way that she now has hers with sugar (she can't explain it; it's just like her taste buds were different after Ruby was born). Maybe he tries harder not to allow things to be swept under the rug with his mother or sisters now, just like how Addison tries harder with Bizzy. Maybe indigo isn't Derek's favorite color anymore, in the same way that Addison recently surprised herself by answering "green" instead of "purple" when Ruby asked her what her favorite color was. And on the subject of colors, maybe Derek's world is less black and white now, just like Addison's world is, because she understands in a way she didn't in the before that there is always room. Happiness and sadness and relief and regret and comfort and grief and healing and hurt and present and past can all exist in the same space.

Addison wonders if her ex-husband has scrub caps in patterns that would no longer be familiar to her hands; she had occasionally tied the strings of Derek's cap if they were going into the OR together. It is possible that Derek has not changed anything about his medical attire though, or how he conducts himself during a procedure, since surgeons are a superstitious bunch. It is easy to imagine that almost three-thousand miles from here, Derek still says, "It's a beautiful day to save lives" at the start of each procedure. Addison hated that expression, by the end. It stopped being wholesome, it stopped being charming, and morphed into something infuriating. It's a beautiful day to come home, she would think bitterly if she observed one of Derek's surgeries, because that might have been the only time she would see him in a twenty-four-hour window otherwise, even though they were divided by glass. It's a beautiful day to spend time with your wife. It's a beautiful day to act like you're still in love with me.

"I'm glad I got to meet you." Meredith says it quietly. Maybe even bravely. "I think I always would have wondered what you…I would have always wondered, if I hadn't met you." She lifts her chin to try to halt a tear that is moving down her cheek. "Thank you," she adds when Addison dabs at her face with a small towel. "Look at me." She laughs a little, self-deprecatingly. "A surgeon crying on the OR table."

"You're not a surgeon on my OR table. You're a mother on my OR table. And for what it's worth…I cried so hard on the table with my second kiddo that my husband had to get right in my face. That was the only thing that calmed me down." Addison hesitates, and then adds, "In a nice way, I mean." She is not sure if she has to clarify that, because it's Mark, her Mark, so of course it was done lovingly. Not all of the particulars are there anymore because of the heady mixture of bleariness and bliss post-delivery, but Addison can still remember his gruff murmurs of bunny and you're okay and it's going to be okay and a handful of indistinctive, comforting susurrations that helped to resettle her. But then, Meredith has never met Mark, and kindness is probably not on the list of characteristics Derek has used to describe him.

"C-section?" Meredith asks.

"Yeah. Ruby's heart rate slowed dramatically, beyond just the regular dips you can sometimes expect. And I…I was exhausted. As much I wanted her out of me, I wasn't far enough along, and I had truly hit the point where pushing just didn't seem possible. But then…" Addison smirks faintly beneath her mask. "When they brought me down to the OR, right after they administered the spinal block, her heart rate stopped decelerating. And then she was fine…it was like she was playing all of us. So the C-section itself ended up being pretty uneventful, or as uneventful as major abdominal surgery can be, that is. Three weeks early, too. She was just…stubborn and determined to arrive on her own terms, I guess. With a little flare."

"Wow. Tell me you're a Scorpio without telling me you're a Scorpio."

"Exactly. Hey." Addison stretches a hand forward to touch the top of the surgical cap covering Meredith's hair. "It's okay. You're okay." Her eyes wander towards Derek, before returning to Meredith, who is now nodding nervously. "I've got your babies. And I've got you, too."

It turns out, from the first cut to the final stitch, it really is a beautiful day to save lives.

. .
. .

Four Years Earlier

"Did you want to switch?"

Addison grins at Mark as she replies, "Does this sweet little stage five clinger look like she wants to switch right now?" Clara is seated in her lap, playing contently with a fabric activity book. Every once in a while she arches to the side to pat Ruby's chest…or tug at the blanket Ruby is wrapped in, apparently intent on breaking apart the swaddle hold. "I'll get more newborn snuggles and head sniffs in later." Addison stares at Ruby, now four days old, and her smile broadens. "We make really beautiful babies together."

"Yeah, we do." He can see each time Addison shifts uncomfortably, trying to keep the bulk of Clara's weight off her incision, but he recognizes that she probably needs this closeness with their oldest, given how hard it was to be separated. And discomfort aside, Addison looks peaceful as they sit next to one another on their bed, Clara in her arms and Ruby in his. Being home again – being a family of four in their own space – has definitely helped.

"And this one is normally such a daddy's girl…" Addison begins, though Mark is pretty sure Clara is equally both. "But this is normal. And she'll get used to it." She knows she can love both her daughters at the same time – the way her heart stretched when Ruby was born is proof of that – even though she will not always be able to meet their needs at the same time. Luckily, she and Mark aren't outnumbered. "When Clara falls asleep though, I'll need you to be the one to take her to her room, since I'm supposed to be taking it easy."

"Uh, you mean since you will be taking it easy." Mark knows he will have to frame the next few weeks – bringing Addison meals, doing all the Clara-lifting, doing some of the regular household things they normally tackle as a team – as pampering so that Addison doesn't take offense to his insistence – well, her doctor's insistence, but Mark knows that her doctor is not who her frustration will be directed at – that she limit her use of the stairs and be mindful of her activity level at first. "You doing okay with it all?" He asks quietly.

"I'm sore as f-u-c-k, and probably will be for a while." She is able to smirk though when she tells him this. "See? I spelled out the bad word that time."

"No, I know. I meant like, mentally. In the feelings way…we really haven't had much of a chance to talk about it. That was definitely not how we thought her delivery was going to play out." He brushes his thumb over Ruby's soft cheek. "You little drama queen. And you were…" he glances back at Addison. "You were really brave, you know. Both times, but especially…especially this time. Childbirth is just so metal," he adds, which makes Addison laugh.

"Yes, it is. And I'm okay. Thank you for asking…and I promise I'll tell you if I ever stop feeling okay. I think it helps knowing that I never have to go through labor again." She wrinkles her nose. "Life is funny, sometimes. With Clara…she wasn't planned, and I spent so much of the first and second trimester feeling stressed." Addison makes a swirling motion with one of her hands, meant to indicate, because of everything going on. "And her birth was the easier one…metal-level pain, but still easier." She tips her head towards Ruby now. "And then this one…this one was planned. Well, planned in the sense that we decided to try for another baby and then I was pregnant like a second later -"

"I am very talented in that way," Mark cuts in.

"Ruby was planned though, and we're in such a different place now, so everything about my pregnancy with her was relatively calm…and then how she came into the world was anything but." Addison throws him a small shrug. "She was completely worth the pain though. And speaking of pain, not that it in any way compares to what I went through either time…have fun with your vasectomy."

"Wait." Mark cringes. "That's what's happening?"

"Well, obviously it's your choice, and if you don't want to then it's fine, I can go back on the pill, but…you do seem to be unusually fertile when I'm involved."

He starts to chuckle. "Yeah, that's fair."

. .
. .

We jumped together. Mark is reflecting again on that time at Split Rock Falls with Derek. He can see all of it so well. The clear, cold water that sliced in two different directions. The thick spruce trees gathered behind them. The pools downstream from the frothy waterfalls. The dampness of the rock that he and Derek were standing on. The wind whistling in his ears when they jumped after one-two-three. The smooth way they both broke through the water's surface at the same time. And the way they were both laughing triumphantly when they came back up for air.

A quick look at the wall clock confirms that Meredith's procedure has already started. Mark is hanging a few feet away from the kids right now, just letting them play. They are currently trying to build some sort of house out of blocks for the stuffed giraffe, and the girls are making a big show out of clapping whenever Theo adds blocks on top of theirs.

"Daddy," Ruby says happily. "Look." She holds her hand out, letting it hover near the top of the three-sided structure. "The house and Theo are the same size now."

Theo looks over at Mark, too, as though guided by the word Daddy, because understandably he would want his daddy to also see, and Mark observes the exact moment that Theo seems to register that Derek is no longer in the room. Theo makes a slow circle, maybe thinking that his dad is somewhere else in the room, and he simply missed him, but after he has completed a circle twice, he bursts into frightened tears.

"Hey…hey, buddy. It's okay. He's gonna be back." Mark gently pulls Theo into his arms. Theo clings tightly to him, and Mark is relieved that this is Theo's response, and that maybe he hasn't overstepped by assuming the little boy would want to be held. Mark is sensitive to boundaries. He thinks all parents should be, and he thinks most probably are, but he also knows he has his own reasons for being more sensitive. And while holding Clara and Ruby is instinctual, and paternalistic, because they are his and he knows how they want to be comforted if they are upset, it would never occur to Mark to just reach out for a child who isn't his. Even with Phoebe, with Booker, with Lucy, with a few others – Mark has known these little ones for such a long time, but in circumstances where they have approached him in tears due to a scraped knee or because they miss one of their moms, he would still follow their lead. As Mark sits down on the couch now, with Theo hiccupping into his neck, he wonders what it means that reaching for Derek's son somehow just felt instinctual.

"Girls…why don't you give him a little space," Mark urges. Clara and Ruby are standing close enough that their legs are brushing against the seat cushion. "Just back up a few steps. Theo will be okay. He just needs a minute to be sad." Neither girl moves though, so Mark tries another strategy. He indicates the diaper bag on the other couch. "Derek said that when Theo is feeling sad, sometimes looking at books and holding onto his blanket can help. Why don't you go grab a book and his blanket from the bag?" And that gets them moving. "One of you grab a book and one of you grab the blanket," he adds quickly, hoping to squash any competitiveness. Clara gets to the bag first, and collects the blue satin-trimmed blanket, and then waits while Ruby completes her part of the task.

"He has the 'polar bear, polar bear' book!" Ruby exclaims when she pulls a picture book out of the diaper bag. She brings it over and takes a seat next to Mark. "I love this one."

"Hippo," Theo suddenly announces, turning in Mark's arms to look at the book.

"No, Free-oh." Ruby points to the polar bear on the cover. "This is a bear. Hippos are gray and they aren't bears. See? This is a polar bear."

"But there's a hippopotamus in the book!" Clara shares excitedly as she sits down on Mark's other side. She hands Theo his blanket. "Remember, Ruby? Open it. Keep going…keep going…there." She nods when Ruby gets to the page with the smiling, wide-mouthed hippo. "There's the hippo, Theo."

"Yeah. There he is," Mark echoes. "You like hippos, huh, Theo?" Ruby hands over the copy of Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? and Mark begins to read to the three kids. He can remember reading with Amelia sometimes when she was around Theo's age. He would be watching TV with Derek, and Amelia would toddle up to him with a book in her hand and sit down beside him. Mark would read to her, trying to keep his voice low so that Derek could still hear the show they were watching. You're so good with Amy, Carolyn would say whenever she saw Mark reading to her, and he always noticed that Derek would squirm uncomfortably when his mom offered this praise. And Mark understood why Derek didn't like it, why it made him feel a little jealous. Derek was a good brother – a very good one. Just not every second of every day. Mark could be though, if he wanted, because none of this really belonged to him. It wasn't his life. He could filter in and out of the Shepherd home, and could pull that brotherly role on and off as if it were an article of clothing. He could always leave…but he never really wanted to. That sense of wholeness in the Shepherd home, that sense of stability and completeness a family can offer…he didn't really have that, or feel that, anywhere else.

At least not until he fell in love with his best friend's then-wife.

Theo looks up at Mark, and offers him a gooey, irresistible smile when he flips from the page with the roaring lion to the snorting hippopotamus. I'm glad he has you, and that he has your mom and your sisters, Mark finds himself thinking. I'm glad that he has people who love him.

. .
. .

Four Years Earlier

Mark knows he is making a poor decision by staying up – sleep when the baby sleeps applies to dads, too – but it is close to midnight now, so he feels compelled to just keep the TV on and let the rest of the live broadcast play out at low volume. He is the only one still awake; all three of his girls are sleeping. All is calm, all is bright. They are past Christmas, but the lyric is still in his head.

But it is just sleeping, and all is calm, all is bright, for now. Ruby will probably be up around one. She is eight weeks old, but is still decidedly stingy with giving her parents longer stretches of sleep. She has moved beyond day and night confusion, at least, and Mark and Addison are grateful for that, but their baby is not a particularly deep sleeper and never stays sleeping for long. However, other than the serious sleep deprivation they are experiencing…everything is good. Ruby is wiggly and happy and makes funny little noises and is very interested in her surroundings. She has started smiling. She likes to suck on her hand. She is up to ten pounds, and has filled out more, with little rolls Addison has described as "delicious." Ruby looks like her sister, but she also doesn't look like her sister; they are starting to see the differences now. Perhaps the most significant appearance change is that Ruby started losing her newborn hair in mid-December, and Mark does not think he will ever, ever get over the alarmed gasp Clara made a few days ago when he took off Ruby's beanie and she saw the top of Ruby's head with its now much sparser hair.

Thirty-something blocks from here, the lit-up crystal ball is beginning to make its descent. The countdown is on, followed by the joyful calling of Happy New Year,and Mark watches as pounds of sparkling confetti rain down on Times Square. He looks over at Addison. It is their third New Year's Eve as a couple. And their first one as a married couple, he realizes.

"Guess what?" He can recall her saying that first New Year's Eve, when she was seven months pregnant with Clara. They were snuggled on the couch, watching a movie, and she adjusted herself in his arms so that she could touch her mouth to his. "We get to kiss at midnight." She pecked lightly at his bottom lip when he chuckled.

"We're kissing right now, bunny." He took control for a few minutes, as though to make his point. He stroked his tongue over hers, and enjoyed the little noises she made in response. It felt good to be like this again. His desire had felt so…blunted after that weekend in Syracuse.

"I know we are," Addison said when he eased away. Her voice was husky-sounding. "I was just thinking though, that you mentioned…I remember you mentioning that that one New Year's Eve we hung out and were playing checkers, that you wanted to kiss me. Right?"

"You're right." He was certain his cheeks were getting redder. She had no idea how badly he wanted to kiss her. "Why do people always kiss at midnight? Is it a good luck thing…or just tradition?"

Addison told him that she wasn't sure, but she figured it was probably just a tradition. He could remember her saying over checkers that New Year's Eve kisses were cheesy. He agreed, honestly. Cheesy and just…sort of embarrassing. Why was there always such a strange, desperate push to find someone to kiss when midnight came? Not that Mark historically didn't have a woman on his arm for the night to kiss and do more with, but…still. Now it was different though. And cheesiness notwithstanding, when he brushed his lips against Addison's at midnight on January first, he knew he would do this every year going forward.

He turns the TV off and leans across the bed to stamp a quick kiss on Addison's cheek. It is feather-light, but she stirs anyway.

"Is she…?" Addison mumbles sleepily, turning a little in Mark's direction in anticipation of collecting Ruby. The bassinet is still next to his side of the bed; they did this with Clara too for the duration of his family leave. Mark always figured it was the least he could do, given that Addison was the food source, to be the one to pick the baby up, do the diaper change, and then hand her over. He stayed up with Addison out of solidarity for most middle-of-the-night feedings with Clara during the first few weeks, and is currently doing the same with Ruby, but he heads back to work next week, so they know they will have to adjust their approach. Addison is off until March, when she starts her new position at Premier Women's Health and Wellness – they both laugh over the word off though. Yes, they recognize the immense privilege in that they have a nanny who helps them out here and there even when Addison is on maternity leave, but there is really nothing "off" when you have two under two. Bottles coming into play will help though; Mark would always take a nighttime feeding by himself from about four weeks on with Clara, which gave Addison a break. He really liked doing it – it was additional time to bond, and a huge confidence boost for him when Clara would take a bottle – and he is looking forward to doing it with Ruby, too.

"No," he tells Addison. "She's still asleep. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I didn't think that would wake you. It's midnight. I just…wanted to give you a kiss."

"Well then." She rolls over just as he is about to encourage her to go back to sleep. "Happy New Year." They embrace somewhat lazily, just a few simple pulls of their lips as they grin between kisses. "And Happy Birthday Eve," she adds. "I'm going to try to get you a wife who has her shit together enough to plan a nice dinner for you, and give you some presents."

"Thanks, but I'm actually pretty attached to the wife I have. And you know I don't need anything." Mark already told her not to make his birthday a thing, anyway. They may have settled into a routine, and Addison is once again able to get around easily because her abdominal muscles no longer feel as weak as a waving, inflatable tube man blowing haplessly in the wind – her words – but life with a second kid is still exhausting.

"Because this is everything?"

"Because this is everything," he repeats.

"I did order a cake though," Addison shares with him. "Paulina is going to pick it up for me. And I'm going to get out the paper and crayons tomorrow so that Clara can make you a card. And I'll…" she yawns and pats his hip, hinting at something pleasurable in the near future. "I'll find a way to make sure you at least get some sort of present from me."

He presses his lips to her cheek, stealing one more kiss. "Go back to sleep. I'll do the next feeding."

"You sure?" A few more hours of uninterrupted sleep sounds better than sex with her husband and chocolate and a massage combined, but from a practical standpoint, it gives Addison pause. "Not that I'll mind if you keep me company during the next one, but the three or four or whatever it'll be might be the better one for you to get in the habit of doing solo since when you go back to work that'll be the one -"

"Go to sleep, Red." He kisses her cheek again.

"You keep kissing me awake. Are you going to stop doing that?" There is a moment of silence that follows as they stare at one another, and Addison tries to arch an eyebrow and remain serious, but she can feel herself starting to break. "Well…are you?"

Mark captures her lips mid-laughter. "Now I will."

. .
. .

On my way. Mark studies the most recent text from Derek. It is a follow-up to the rushed message he received about thirty minutes earlier: Procedure went well. In recovery room with Meredith. Everything going ok? Mark had texted back and confirmed that everything was okay, and at present, this is still the case. He read to the kids for a bit, and then they went back to playing with blocks. And Theo seems no worse for the wear after his crying jag, thankfully.

When the door to the family room finally opens and Derek steps back inside, Ruby lets out a loud, whiny "oh" sound of disappointment that is somehow audible over Theo's shriek of pure joy that his dad has returned. Mark can add that to the list of things that haven't surprised him today. Ruby is just…loud. She always has been.

"Ruby." Mark shakes his head. Even if it had been an inaudible noise, and even though he gets what it was about, it was still not an appropriate reaction. "That was rude. Please say 'sorry' to Derek."

"I'm sorry," Ruby calls out as Derek takes a delighted Theo into his arms. She is mostly unfazed by the reprimand though. "I just don't want Free-oh to go yet," she tells him.

Derek gives her an understanding smile. "We can stay for a few more minutes." He gives Theo a kiss on his cheek – and the little boy wastes no time in wiping it off – and then sets him back down. "Go play," he tells him. "We'll stay a little longer." Theo walks back over to the girls. He seems happy to get a little more play time, but Mark notices that when Theo resumes playing with the blocks, he is deliberately facing in Derek's direction, which makes Mark grin – he's not falling for that crap again. Mark thinks that Derek is probably thinking the same thing, so he almost isn't paying attention when Derek takes a seat on the couch diagonal from the one he is on, and says, "It went okay?"

"Just a few tears when he realized you'd left," Mark responds after a beat. "We read some books for a bit though, and that seemed to help, and then they went back to the blocks. And I think Ruby's outburst made it clear – they really like playing with your son. The procedure…it went okay?" He realizes he is mirroring Derek's question.

"It did. All the abnormal blood vessels were cauterized. Meredith's still a little out of it, but she kept insisting I check on Theo, so." Derek is quiet for a moment, and then raises his head and makes eye contact with Mark. "I forgot…it's been so long since I've seen Addison in the OR…no matter what kind of procedure it is, she's amazing when she's in action."

"She's always been a shade more talented than the two of us." Mark gives him a small smile. It is just more…impressive overall, what Addison does. More noble. He and Derek save lives, or at least Mark does when he has a procedure that isn't strictly cosmetic, but Addison makes lives, because she ensures that in-utero lives get to be lives at all. "Even back in med school," Mark adds quietly, "everything from her technique to her scores to her notes was always a little better than whatever we came up with."

Derek releases a short, one-breathed laugh at this. "Well, the notes thing is strictly a me and Addison comparison," he shares. "I don't really remember you taking many notes."

This is true, Mark knows. He didn't take many notes. He glanced at Derek and Addison's lecture notes sometimes, just to confirm there wasn't something he had failed to retain, but for the most part, notes didn't serve much purpose for him (he knows he might have felt differently if Derek and Addison hadn't been willing to let him see their notes though). He can remember skimming Derek's notes with their cramped, tiny letters, and Addison's neater ones in multiple colors. What did he write right there? Addison would sometimes ask Mark if Derek had left the room, and he would tell her. He had known Derek for fifteen years by the time they started med school; interpreting his writing was easy.

"That used to drive me crazy," Derek continues, grinning a little. "You barely needed to prep for exams…all of it came so easily to you."

Mark shrugs, even though he is pretty sure Derek cannot see his gesture, because he is looking at the kids again. Exams, and most things school and medical-related came easy to Mark, yes. All of it though, if Derek meant for what he said to be split into separate thoughts, no. Definitely not. Love, commitment, trust, openness – all of that took a long time before it became easy for Mark. The only way he can think to explain it is that it was like Addison was going forward and he was going backward, but somehow, they met in the middle, and it turned out, they were exactly right for each other. It came with casualties, though.

"Hey, Drek?" Ruby says, which is followed by Clara heatedly whispering, his name is Derek.

Mark watches as Derek tries to hide his laughter with a smile. "Yes, Ruby?"

"When Theo was borned, did he have curly hair?"

"No." Derek shakes his head. "The curls came later. He didn't really have any hair when he was born." His smile lengthens as he reveals this. "Theo was kind of…bald, actually"

Ruby practically cackles, her tongue darting past her teeth as she laughs. "Bald Theo," she announces, which makes Clara laugh, and Theo joins in, unclear on what is happening, but wanting to be a part of it. "I like his curls," Ruby adds sweetly. "When I touch them they bounce back up." She sets a hand on top of Theo's head to demonstrate. "And they're soft like marshmallows."

"Ruby." Mark catches her eye. "I think Theo's curls are great too, but you need to keep your hands to yourself, okay?" He smiles in appreciation when she brings her hand away from Theo's head. "Sorry." He turns to face Derek. "We're still working on that rule. At least she got Theo right that time…so she's averaging one-for-two with the first names."

"I'm assuming she doesn't know what 'drek' means."

"Drek is a word?"

"You apparently haven't spent enough time with Weiss." Derek is smiling again. "It's a Yiddish word that means 'trash.'"

"Well…I think we both know that I've been the 'drek' between the two of us." Mark takes a deep breath. "I know…I know now isn't the time. But maybe before you guys leave…maybe we could talk?" He knows that Derek and his family will be here until at least Monday. "I know Meredith…" it feels weird to say the name of someone he hasn't met. "I know Meredith getting rest is the priority, but if there's ever a time where you and Theo want to get out of the hotel room and stretch your legs and meet us at Central Park – with Addison, too – maybe you and I could talk. And the kids can play together." He lowers his gaze. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I just…would really like the chance to apologize, if you're willing to listen. And we could…we could at least catch up. Or talk sports." He looks at Derek again, and attempts to make his tone lighter. "I have some pretty good Ruby stories that involve the Yankees."

Derek smiles at this. "Theo has dual-AL representation. Mariners and the Yankees."

"About a week ago, I had the game on one night…it was when the Orioles were in town. And Ruby had just walked into the room to grab something. The Yankees had two on and Gallo was up, full-count, and the umpire – I don't even have to tell you which one, you know exactly who I'm talking about – rung him up on a pitch that was easily five inches off the plate. And Ruby saw the called third strike, and said, 'that's bullshit,' in just the calmest-sounding voice, and then turned around and walked out of the room and went back to playing with her Legos."

"Wonder where she heard that one," Derek says, laughing quietly.

"Yeah." Mark frowns. "Her mother didn't think it was quite as amusing as I did."

"Well, Addie was never a baseball fan," Derek reasons. "We'll probably lay low for a bit, but maybe Thursday or Friday would be good, depending on how Mer is feeling. I should get back down there." He claps his hands on his knees, grabs the diaper bag, and then stands up. "Hey, Theo…you ready to go see Mommy?" He gets ahead of the next Ruby whine of protest by speedily tacking on, "We'll see you another day. We'll meet you at one of the playgrounds in Central Park, and you guys can play some more." And this proclamation feels significant to Mark. It would be one thing to just throw out possible plans with him, but it is another to share this information with the girls. Derek wouldn't do that if he wasn't serious about meeting up with them.

Clara says "Heckscher" at the same time Ruby says "Billy Johnson."

"We'll talk about it," Mark tells them. "We don't need to decide right now. Girls, say 'goodbye' to Theo. We're going leave, too. Right after we clean up." He swears he can feel his heart somehow both shatter and rebuild itself when neither of his girls hesitates to give Theo a hug.

"Oh," Derek adds, now registering the mess. "We can help -"

"No, don't worry about it," Mark interrupts as Theo walks over with the girls. Mark watches as Ruby – who clearly thinks he isn't looking – reaches out to touch Theo's curls. He is looking though, and Ruby reveals a sly grin at the raised eyebrow Mark directs at her ("Any forehead wrinkles I get are going to be this kid's fault," he told Addison once), and then retracts her hand. "You guys go ahead," Mark finishes. "Go be with your wife." This is also weird to say, because there is no getting around it – your wife used to mean something else entirely. "They can do that." He smiles when Theo lifts an arm, wanting Derek to pick him up. His other arm is a bit preoccupied with holding the stuffed giraffe.

"Theo…" Derek begins gently. "Raff is Clara's toy. She was just sharing with you. Can you say 'thank you' and give Raff back to Clara?" Predictably, Theo's grasp on the stuffed animal tightens.

"It's for Theo," Clara says quickly. "He can keep it." Mark can see the flicker of doubt when his daughter says it though. He doesn't think he's seen her play with the giraffe in years. The giraffe still looks relatively new, actually, with fur that isn't worn in the way it is on her stuffed duck or stuffed otter or stuffed husky. He is certain Clara purposely picked a "zoo animal" for Theo that she doesn't play with anymore, but he can't envision any scenario in which Clara won't end up missing the giraffe and second-guessing her decision. He exchanges a glance with Derek, and he can tell that Derek is thinking the same thing. It might just be because they are both parents, who by virtue of being parents sometimes find themselves facing similar situations, but Mark also wonders if it is more than that, too. They were best friends for such a long time; they could often read each other's thoughts.

"Tell you what…" Derek says to Clara. "How about we take care of Raff for a bit at our hotel, and then we'll bring him when we meet up at the playground later in the week." He lifts Theo into his arms and settles him on his hip. "Just in case you change your mind."

"We did that in preschool," Ruby shares excitedly. "With Hopper. He got to stay with everyone for a whole week. Hopper is a frog. Not a real one though," she clarifies. "A stuffed one."

"A frog in the Sloan house…did it end up in the microwave?" Derek says after Mark has directed the girls to go put the blocks back in the storage bin. His tone is amicable and teasing when he says it, but Mark rolls his lips together ruefully at the question anyway. He didn't have a reason for putting Pickles in the microwave, in the same way he often didn't have a reason for doing so many of the things he did over the years – he did it just to do it.

"I didn't press start," he finally murmurs, still feeling a little guilty. "And I did say sorry for that."

"You did," Derek's voice softens as he turns to leave. "That was one thing about you, you know…you did always apologize for the things you did that were wrong."

. .
. .

---

References/Notes/Nods to Various Episodes

Grey's Anatomy 1x08: Derek tells Meredith that his favorite color is indigo. I can't vouch for Addison's favorite color, so that's made-up. She did use a lot of green mugs though in PP. :)

Grey's Anatomy 5x12.
Carolyn Shepherd: "You have that same guilty look on your face as you did when you were ten years old and you put Derek's favorite frog into the microwave."
Mark: "I never pressed 'start.'" (I love that it was "favorite" frog. How many were there?)

Grey's Anatomy 18x03. Addison asks Jo, "Can you get me some coffee? Black and sweet."

"Ducks fly together" (man I hate myself for this) is from The Mighty Ducks. And the book that Mark was reading during Dad Care was Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? by Eric Carle.

Thanks for reading! I am hopeful I can get the next chapter up by mid-December. I think there are…three more chapters, at most? I see it all in my head – it's just the piecing-it-together part. I am definitely winding down though, as sad as I am to let go of this little torrid-affair-turned-family thing. Thank you for your patience, and your continued support. I appreciate you all! :)