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.

54. A World Full of Sights Unseen

A/N. Penultimate chapter (*sobs*). Chapter title is from the song "Borderlines," by Hollow Coves. TW: discussion about sexual abuse, but nothing graphic. Some references to chapters 14, 44, 45, and 46, but no rereading is necessary. I did not realize until just this moment how many scenes involve characters in bed (not like that…okay, a little like that…it's two hot people, what do you expect). Thank you for your patience with this update. It took a long time to write; I think it's because subconsciously, I am dreading this story coming to a close. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope you'll consider letting me know if you do!

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Chapter 54. A World Full of Sights Unseen

It is a beautiful day. That is all Addison can think while taking in the scene playing out in front of her. Clara, Ruby, and Theo are sitting on the ground, their bodies close to the speckled concrete edge that borders the pond, watching as model sailboats carve through the water. The kids have been relatively quiet, save for the occasional commentary from Clara or Ruby – who are flanking Theo – about the boats. Addison knows the docile behavior has less to do with their interest in trying to identify the fastest boat, and more to do with heavy-limbed fatigue after running around the fountain while Mark and Derek were talking earlier.

She feels Mark take her hand at one point, and hold onto it for a few seconds. This must seem beautiful – and heartbreaking and wistful all at once – to him, too.

"You guys have really big shadows." Ruby's eyes are still trained on the boat with 47 on the side of its mainsail when she announces this.

"Thank you for telling us, kiddo." Addison rolls her lips together to hide the curl of a disenchanted smile. Pointing out shadow thickness may not be tactful, but she knows her daughter is not wrong. One-by-one, the adult silhouettes have expanded. Addison and Meredith have been standing the entire time, but Mark and Derek were initially crouched beside the kids until it became evident Theo had passed an unspoken test of trustworthiness in the sense that he had not – and still has not – attempted to scoot any closer to the final divide between molded land and water. The current result is the adults standing directly behind the kids (trusting, but not that trusting), which has taken away their sunshine. It is the tiny details for Addison in between this swatch of light and dark. There is Ruby glancing in the other direction now, her concentration hauled away from the rippling water towards a few people on bikes. There is Clara with her left arm sort-of-but-not-quite resting on a leg, as though she is prepared to straighten it to form a barricade should Theo attempt to arch forward. And there is Theo, who has a hand resting behind him, splayed convivially on the toe of one of Derek's shoes.

"Would you mind if I took a picture of them?" Addison turns her head to address Derek and Meredith. If the request surprises them – as it did for Addison when she suddenly found herself forming the words – they hide it well.

"Not at all," Meredith says. "Text it to me though."

Addison briefly ponders the strangeness of having her ex-husband's wife's number as she kneels down on Ruby's other side and claims the brief attention of the kids. They each give her a smile, and afterwards, she sends the picture to Meredith. It is a beautiful capture to continue to highlight a beautiful day, but for as beautiful as it is right now, it is also muggy and hot outside. They are all starting to wilt under the blanket of thick heat, but Theo shows it the most; the little boy suddenly climbs to his feet and turns around, arms straining upwards in an appeal to be held.

"Is Theo okay?" Clara asks when Derek hoists Theo onto his hip.

"He's okay," Meredith tells her. "He's just sleepy." She glances at Addison – sharing a mom moment – who is sympathetic in response to the scratchy-voiced explanation. Addison can only imagine how off-kilter Theo's sleep schedule has been thanks to the time zone change. He is currently resting his head against Derek's shoulder.

"Can you tell him to stay awake?" This follow-up question from Ruby is, in Addison's opinion, the four-year-old version of a pre-gaming Savvy in undergrad telling Addison to rally when she found herself feeling sluggish after drinking too much before they were set to go out for the night.

"Ruby." Addison raises an eyebrow, but keeps her tone gentle. "Theo is tired. Let him rest. See? There are kids out there who don't fight nap time." She and Mark both think Ruby would benefit from still taking an afternoon nap, but Ruby feels otherwise. "It's okay if you guys want to head back to your hotel." She shifts her focus to Derek and Meredith. "They've all gotten enough sun today anyway, and you should probably get off your feet for a bit, Meredith."

The four Montgomery-Sloans find refuge at a shaded bench near the pond after Derek, Meredith, and Theo have departed. The girls happily bite away at concession cart purchases – a Strawberry Shortcake bar for Clara, and an ice cream sandwich for Ruby – while Addison and Mark talk in hushed voices.

"Did it go okay?" She knows she would be able to read in Mark's expression if his conversation with Derek had not gone okay, and right now, he looks peaceful. Enough time has passed and maybe the circumstances are just right enough to shape Derek into a different man than the blisteringly angry one who sat across from her in a midtown office with their respective lawyers. She and Mark cannot delve into all of it now, but she asks the question anyway to have a baseline for how he is feeling. Her loss was always more conclusive than Mark's, she feels, because nothing actually separated Mark and Derek other than silence. Addison knows that for herself, the ending was more tangible: papers that were signed and filed, a divorce certificate, belongings in the brownstone and Hamptons home that were packed up and shipped to Seattle, and rings that were in her possession until she tossed them into the East River. Her now-husband never really had anything with Derek that represented a beginning and an end.

"It went really well," Mark shares, and he hears her whisper, I'm so glad. "I'll tell you more later. This isn't…none of this is real." He almost chuckles to signal his disbelief. "They're coming over tomorrow for dinner." They have Ruby to thank for this, who thinks utterly nothing of inviting people to her home before her parents have issued an okay for it. But, still. Mark feels that no matter how cute Ruby's face is, Derek could have easily presented an excuse not to come over, if he had not wanted to join the Montgomery-Sloans. "It's like…real and not real, you know?"

"Real and not real." Addison understands what he is saying. "Speaking of things 'not real' today…" she tips her head to the side, where the girls are still eating their treats, either oblivious or just disinterested in the adult conversation happening to their right. "I bet Ruby falls asleep when we get home. I was just thinking…when she was telling Derek and Meredith to keep Theo awake, it reminded me of the first time we brought her here." She thinks that while the reawakened memory definitely has to do with Ruby's interest in Theo not falling asleep, it also has something to do with how Mark's hand is currently woven around hers. One of his fingers is rubbing – perhaps unthinkingly, reflexively – against her ring finger. "Remember?" She adds. "Clara was trying to wake her up."

"I remember."

They had hunkered down after Ruby was born. It was such a stark difference in having a spring baby – as was the case with Clara – versus a late fall baby. They rarely went anywhere because of the cold weather and the peak of flu season. It was not until Addison went back to work in March – or back in the sense that she was now working somewhere else – that they more consistently stepped out from their indoor bubble. The first time they went for a morning walk through Central Park that included Ruby, they came over to the model boat pond. It was too early for Kerbs to be open, so the absence of rented boats floating in the pond left the water glass-still. Addison had a sleeping Ruby strapped to her chest in a carrier, and Mark had Clara – who would be turning two soon – balanced on his hip. Clara had been expending a lot of energy on trying to pat the top of Ruby's beanie-covered head, and Mark kept nudging her arm away, not wanting to chance waking their four-month-old, who was not a good sleeper. Fortunately, a duck had landed in the pond, and after Clara's attention had been redirected, he felt Addison slip her hand through his.

"Hey…" he traced his thumb over the birthstone-laden ring below the diamond one she started wearing the day they got married. "Let's take this in soon, and add the topaz stone for Ruby."

It was one of those moments that felt absolutely perfect to Mark…the depth and privilege of getting to be Addison's husband, and a dad to two wonderful girls.

"Olivia's mind is going to be blown when I tell her everything that's gone on recently," he tells Addison now. He still goes to therapy once every other month, and so does she. Most of the time it feels more like a "check-in" than anything else, but there remains a benefit in talking to someone who is able to ensure he is functioning as a human, not just coping. "I remember her saying once that closure is more about beginnings than endings. So maybe…" he pauses to swallow. "Maybe we get a new beginning out of all this. But even if nothing really comes of it…like if they go back to Seattle on Monday, and that's it…it still mattered."

Addison's grasp on his hand becomes firmer. "It still mattered," she echoes.

Something tells her this is not the end though, or not the end of the beginning.

. .
. .

Six Years Earlier

"Clara…?" Addison blinks through half-clamped eyelids as Mark comes into focus near the dresser. The faint rustling she was hearing as he toed around the bedroom has projected her from sleep with the if he's up, Clara's up logic. "Is she -?"

"Still asleep. Wait, no. Addison…" Mark speaks a little louder, thinking that maybe she did not hear him the first time, because she is hurriedly using an elbow to lift herself up. Or she is just on autopilot, and he understands where she is coming from, if that is the case. Addison was up with Clara twice last night. Their seven-month-old is currently teething; the discomfort in her gums has disrupted her regular sleep schedule, leaving her irritable and borderline-inconsolable, and of all the things they have done to try to soothe her, nursing has been the only thing that helps in the middle of the night. "She's still asleep, bunny." He waves a hand in a downward motion, gesturing to his shirt and fleece joggers. "I was just throwing something on."

This produces a smile from Addison. "Over-achiever," she playfully accuses. It feels too early on a Saturday – not even seven yet – to have gotten dressed. She knows she has no motivation to slip out of her pajamas yet, at least.

"I was thinking I can hang with Clara this morning, and you can sleep in. I'm going to meet Lynette at the practice. She just texted to let me know she's going to go in…there's a few invoice and supply things she wants to catch up on." He gives it a moment to ensure Addison has processed this in her still-sleepy state. "So I figured I would help her out, and then we're going to walk around the park for a bit. Maybe hit up that playground next to MOMA." He briefly crouches down, pretending to adjust the heels of his socks as a tactic to shield his face. Lying is too difficult, even though the going to the practice part isn't a lie…just everything that follows. In this case though, there's a good reason for it.

"Clara loves the bear sculpture there." Addison swears she now knows some of the finer points of the playgrounds in Central Park as intimately as she knows any surgical tool. "You're sure?" She cannot currently think of a single thing that sounds nicer than this though. They do not keep score as parents, but she is not about to decline if Mark feels like he owes her something. She has been encouraging him to just remain sleeping through these middle-of-the-night comfort feeds, because it does not feel like there is a point to them both having to be awake. This is nothing like the newborn stage, when Addison felt like she was in constant need of support, and was grateful he would stay up with her while she adjusted to breastfeeding.

"Yep." He joins her back under the comforter. "I'll get her fed and ready once she's awake."

"Thank you. I shouldn't…I shouldn't have done that." She waits until Mark has gathered her close and her head is tucked beneath his chin before she guiltily elaborates, "I did this like full-body cringe thing when I asked if she was awake."

"You're fine. You're just tired. And I'm sort of useless right now, since I'm not the one she wants." He adjusts his angle to drop a kiss close to her ear. "She has good taste in people."

"I think it's more about what's attached to my chest than my personality. It's what she wants, not who." Addison's voice is drowsy when she shares this. He is combing his fingers through her hair now, and the action is lulling her back to sleep. "She loves her daddy very much."

Mark lies there quietly, keeping his gaze near the baby monitor on the other nightstand. He looks down at Addison though when, in her sleep, her arm folds over his waist, hugging him back. It makes him smile. She does not do this often – she is a pretty "still" sleeper, and her arms tend to stay tucked close to her body while she is in a lateral position – and maybe that is why some of the times she does this stick with him. It happened in Montauk, the night she told him she was in love with him. It happened a few times after he found out about how horrifying his mother's childhood was. And it happened several weeks ago on…Mark gives it some thought, but there is no event of significance tied to it. It was just an ordinary day. Ordinary. The thing is though, being with her, and with Clara…there isn't anything about it that feels ordinary.

I want to marry you, Mark finds himself thinking. It is not the first time he has thought it, but in this moment, the desire is consuming every part of him.

It does not take long before he can see on the monitor that Clara has woken up and is wiggling around – she can sit up unassisted now. Keep sleeping, he reminds Addison when their daughter's little noises cause her to stir again. Thanks, she says, eyes still closed as he shuffles out of bed and goes to retrieve Clara. Have fun.

"Good morning, toothy." Mark steps into Clara's bedroom and she rewards him with a wide, happy smile, but he is not close enough yet to see the faint flash of white along her lower gum. He makes sure he has turned off the monitor in her room first, and then comes closer and tells her, "After we help Aunt Lynette with a few things, we're going to pick out some earrings." There is a nice jewelry store not far from his practice. Christmas is not for another two months, and there are no shortage of amethyst earrings in the world, but the idea is fresh in Mark's head, so he would prefer to do it now. They were over at Savvy and Weiss's loft last weekend, and Addison had told Savvy how much she liked her earrings, and that she wanted to get studs in that color. And Savvy was kind enough to respond when Mark texted her a few days ago to ask what the stones were. "And…and we're going to get your mommy a ring while we're there, too."

. .
. .

Later that night, long after the girls have fallen asleep, and once Addison has shut the bedroom door, Mark takes her face between his hands. She smiles, warmed by the notion that he still looks at her like this, and then he dips his head to sweep his lips across hers. They could crawl into bed and talk first – talk about everything that transpired at the park – but that usually isn't them. That part will follow once they have alleviated their ache for each other. Derek being here means that Addison has not been able to stop herself over the past few days from thinking back to the affair, and how precisely they all got here. She knows Mark has had similar thoughts. It does not feel unhealthy, she believes, that Derek's presence has prompted her to reflect more about who she and Mark once were, and how they managed to put themselves back together after shattering everything about the lives they had. And as Mark scatters kisses along her neck and makes quick work of unbuttoning her satin blouse, the intimacy component is on her mind. They used to touch out of loneliness, out of sadness, out of desperation. Sex was all they had and all they could have. Not anymore though. It is gratifying before and after, not just during. And although they can – and will – discuss what today was like for Mark, this comes first, and to Addison it is something akin to, I love you and I like spending time together and it feels good being one with you.

She plants her hands on Mark's chest when she sinks down. Mark looks at her as she starts to move, her body arched and her head tossed back. Her eyes have fallen shut, and he keeps his touch light when his hands mold around her outer thighs. He is content with just watching as Addison alternates between lifting herself up and down in short movements, then shifting forward and backward in a way that builds pressure. As much as he loves – really loves – caressing her everywhere he can when they are joined like this, there is something about the current pace and Addison's closed eyes that is equally satisfying. He used to hate when she closed her eyes during sex. It made him worry that she was thinking about her then-husband, or just…not him. Look at me, Mark would sometimes say while moving inside her, and he would purposely slow his thrusts or knead one of her breasts more firmly until she cracked an eye open, resentful. Now it is just peaceful. Tender. Honest. She is enjoying herself, and so is he.

"So good…" he murmurs, and Addison's legs quiver in response. The rhythm of her breathing changes. It has reached the point – he feels so deep inside her – that it feels almost too good for her to move, and he knows this. She circles her hips once, then stills completely. Mark does the rest of the work, guiding her up and down a few more times until she opens her eyes and leans forward so they can be as close as possible. He holds her in his arms when she unravels.

He slides down her body afterwards, executing a pattern Addison has memorized, but it still somehow surprises her. He lingers at her breasts and hipbones, allowing her to catch her breath first. He kisses the pale scar that was necessary to bring their second child into the world. She makes a low noise in her throat when Mark's mouth finally arrives at warm flesh, and then grits her teeth to stifle louder noises when he brings her to a second explosive finish.

"That was amazing." Addison's head found refuge on his chest several minutes ago. Their bodies have both calmed, and she feels languorous in his embrace.

Mark's knuckles trace over the curve of her cheek. "My talk with Derek…" he begins. "It went really well, but can I tell you about it in the morning? Before Thing One and Thing Two are up?"

"Yeah, of course. Whenever you want to talk, I'm here." She thinks for a moment, grasping for something nice to focus on while Mark continues to internally process what today was like, and then she adds, "We should wait a bit longer before we tell the girls, but assuming everything is okay…" Addison feels the subtle movement of Mark's muscles as he nods in understanding. Meredith's follow-up appointment is Sunday – two days from now. Addison will conduct an ultrasound, as was done the morning after the procedure, in addition to a fetal echocardiogram. Hopefully, everything will point towards the effects of the syndrome continuing to subside, which will increase the chance of a positive outcome for both the donor twin and recipient twin. "We should be able to go to Westhampton on Monday."

"Sounds perfect. That first year…" this time Mark is the one to pause, and she is the one to nod. Addison knows what he means. Not a calendar year, not the beginning of the affair, not when they were caught, but the moment they knew they wanted to make it work. "After you guys signed the papers, there were a few times that fall where I actually thought about flying out to Seattle, and trying to apologize to Derek in person. I know that wouldn't have been fair though to just show up at his work, or where he lived. Derek forgiving me was up to him, not me, and even if I was crazy enough to ambush him and ask for a few minutes of his time, I would have had to tell you what I was planning, and I didn't want to put you through any of that. Like…like do anything that would stress you out or just…make it harder for you."

Addison adjusts her position to look at him, the point of her chin digging into his chest, and although she does not respond right away, her eyes make it clear she does not disagree. They both know Mark's support and encouragement and how specifically he loved her were the things that kept her afloat. For a solid two weeks after signing the divorce papers, Addison fell asleep teary-eyed, and woke up the same way. She thinks in some ways what gave her a reprieve – or made the bouts of grief stretch a little farther apart, at least – had been finding out that month that Clara was a girl. She was already real to her parents, but in some ways, this made it more real. And it increased their hope about the future. Their future.

"You were really protective of me that first year," she acknowledges.

"I think an argument can be made that I still am. With all three of my girls."

"Not overly though." She kisses Mark reassuringly. "Just a normal, well-meaning amount…and it's only because you love us so much."

. .
. .

Five Years Earlier

"Am I going to wake up to the sweet, dulcet sounds of you barfing tomorrow morning?"

"More like I'm going to wake up to you doing that, but it'll be a hangover, not morning sickness." Addison smiles at Savvy's question. The query isn't anything outside the realm of the usual things she is used to hearing from her best friend, but the alcohol Savvy has consumed tonight (I'm drinking for two, she had said, while pointing at Addison's midsection) is definitely making her chattier. "The nausea hasn't been as bad this time," she adds while pausing the movie the two of them are watching. "Definitely not as strong as it was with Clara those first few weeks. I'm more tired this time around, but that's because of the toddler I currently have to chase after."

"Last Friday didn't help, with having to chase an extra one."

This makes Addison smile, too. She and Mark recently watched Phoebe while Savvy and Weiss went out to dinner. I'll bring you back a bottle of wine from Hawksmoor, Savvy had said when she dropped Phoebe off, and the comment made Addison exchange a quick look with her fiancé. That's fine for Mark, she informed Savvy, but it's going to be wasted on me. This prompted a slow blink from Savvy, then a nod from Addison, and then appropriate squealing from both women. If you want to do something for me though, if you're free at the end of the month, she told Savvy afterwards, I would love to have you be our courthouse witness.

"Less morning sickness…" Savvy contemplates. "Do you think that means this one is a boy?"

"I'm not sure. I felt so certain Clara was a girl. I'll be happy either way, but I haven't really had a 'feeling' yet." Addison lifts the crisp hotel sheets to study her midsection as Savvy busies herself with taking a generous sip of wine. She is not showing yet, but some of her outfits are definitely feeling tighter, and she assumes it will be a challenge to make it to the twelve-week mark without friends and colleagues silently pondering, food-baby-or-actual-baby. "Maybe this one will just be full of surprises."

"He or she is going to have to be. Clara is the perfect baby." Savvy's tone is insistent. "I mean…come on." Addison knows that as Clara's mother, she is biased, but she can see it from Savvy's perspective, too. Anything that has ever required more with Clara – colic the first few weeks, teething, her first cold, bursts in growth and development that sometimes had her awake at odd hours – has always been temporary. Clara is happy, easy to redirect, and quick to smile. She does not test limits too often. And God, she is so cuddly. "You're not going to wind up with two babies like that. There's just no freaking way."

"I promise you she's not actually perfect. She has meltdowns just like any toddler." Addison bites her lip as she shares this. Usually Clara's meltdowns are the result of her not being ready when someone else holds her, even though Addison and Mark do everything they can to be considerate with transitions. "So you might feel less inclined to think she's perfect when we leave her with you next weekend." It is going to be difficult…and not just for Clara. Addison and Mark – Addison especially – have spent the occasional night apart from their daughter when on-call, but they have never spent a night without her at the same time. Addison is looking forward to having a honeymoon, but she knows there will also be a part of her anxiously waiting to get back to Clara.

"We'll be fine. And she'll be fine, too."

"I know. I'm going to do my best not to cry when we say goodbye to her, but my stupid hormones are probably going to be working against me for that. Hey, Sav…thanks for doing this." Addison waves her hand to indicate the room they are staying in at the Mark Hotel. A just-the-two-of-us night in a luxury hotel not far from where either of them lives had been Savvy's idea – a makeshift bachelorette party, she had dubbed it. It has been a relaxing day featuring facials, manicures, and pedicures at the on-site salon, and now room service and movies as they lazily sprawl out on the bed. "This was really nice of you. I'm having such a good time."

"You're welcome. Plus, I'll take any excuse to get out of the house…and I love the symboly of this."

"That's absolutely not a word. But what do you mean?"

"I mean that we're in the Mark, and next weekend the Mark is going to be in you." Savvy laughs when Addison's cheeks turn pinker. "And it's my job to throw you a bachelorette party anyway, since I'm your…" she pauses to make the language adjustment. "Witness of honor."

"You're basically the maid of honor. Just without all the pomp and circumstance." Addison knows the civil ceremony might be somewhat mechanical for Savvy. Wait for the assigned number to be called. Sign the marriage license. Wait for the number to be called again. Go into a small room and hold Clara for two minutes, which is pretty much how long it will take the clerk to marry the couple. "Well, 'matron,' technically."

"Which makes me sound ninety, for some reason, no matter how accurate it is. I'm excited though. I've been waiting for my moment to shine on your wedding day. I'm kidding." Savvy lightly brushes a hand over Addison's forearm. "You know I'm kidding, right?"

Addison's answer is a strained grin. The two women were nine years removed from their freshman year at Columbia when it came time for Addison to determine who her bridesmaids would be. Looking back on it now, it seems so silly, how anxious she was. The bridesmaids-as-a-whole part was easy: Savvy, Naomi, two surface-level friends from childhood, and Derek's sisters. Having to choose a maid of honor among the bunch though – or matron, again with the technicality, because it was between Naomi and Savvy, and their weddings came before Addison and Derek's did – left Addison's stomach in knots. She had spoken to Bizzy about maybe having co maids of honor; she had never seen that at any weddings she had attended, but surely it was a thing? Bizzy shook her head though. That seems tacky, dear. Why don't you just have Rachel or Caroline be the maid of honor? You've known them since you were little. Addison could see the reasoning for selecting the person who has been in your life the longest. Savvy's cousin was her maid of honor, and Savvy hadn't displayed any signs she had fretted over her decision when she asked Addison to be one of her bridesmaids, and mentioned Zara was going to be her maid of honor. But then…the logic of picking the friend you are closest to made just as much sense to Addison, which led her to be honest with herself and acknowledge that, at that time in her life, she was closer to Naomi. It wasn't that she was no longer close with Savvy – they still talked regularly, and saw each other when they could – but they had been carrying around the respective burdens of med school and law school, and now Addison was a first year resident breathing the same hospital air as Naomi at the same time Savvy was adjusting to eleven-hour days at the DA's office with a towering volume of cases. In the end, closeness trumped years; Addison chose Naomi, and then she nervously twisted her hands around after asking Savvy to be one of her bridesmaids.

"Naomi is going to be my maid of honor. Just…you know, I was the maid of honor for her wedding, and we spend so much time together because we're at the same -" she started to say, and Savvy cut her off. It doesn't matter to me who you picked, Addie. Stop being weird about it. I'm happy just to be part of your big day.

Naomi was the right choice then. Just like how Addison knows with her entire heart that Savvy is the right choice now. Addison loves Naomi – they still text several times a week, and have longer conversations when they have the time – but Savvy is, for what counts the most, her best friend.

"I wasn't offended that you picked Naomi." Savvy's words are amicable as she goes on speaking. "Realistically, you were closer with her at the time. And she was like the gold standard for a whatever-of-honor when you think about it: super organized, a planner, would roll right over if Bizzy told her to." Addison observes Savvy tick off a few of Naomi's qualities on her fingers. The two women got along well, but everything was filtered through Addison and Derek, who served as the overall friendship demarcation; Savvy and Naomi spent time together if Addison and Derek extended an invite to both sets of couples.

"You're those things, too, Sav," Addison points out. Savvy had been an involved bridesmaid: bubbly and upbeat and happy to help with anything. "You probably would have pushed back a little with Bizzy if you disagreed with some of her suggestions…but not that much."

"Definitely not that much. She's always been like 'Blonde Lady Tremaine' to me. Naomi was the better choice for having a more well-rounded bachelorette party. She wanted a nice, relaxing spa day, followed by dinner and two drinks max. Me? I just wanted to -"

"Rage?" Addison fills in. They had split the difference. It was pamper-filled morning and afternoon, and then that night the bridesmaids (minus Amy, who was underage for the night's festivities and as a result remained in Syracuse with Carolyn) and a few other med school friends of Addison's who didn't happen to be on-call danced and drank in two different nightclubs…the details of which were hazy to an inebriated Addison then, and ever hazier now.

"Yep. She nixed my stripper idea, too."

"Sav…" Addison raises an eyebrow at this remark. She knows – she knows – there is not going to be a stripper tonight, but she sort of needs Savvy to confirm this.

"Don't worry." Savvy's mouth quirks into a pleased smile. "It's just us tonight. You know, there was this window before you and Mark…" she tactfully comes short of saying began having an affair. "We didn't see each other as much, or talk as much." This time she is the one to look a little uncomfortable, but Addison gives her an agreeing nod. It was not anything specific other than the fact that maintaining friendships takes work. And from what Addison gathered during the last decade, having lived it, friendships are just…different when you're moving up in your career, when planning a get-together requires meticulously looking through a calendar, and when you're in a partnership with a loved one and they tend to come first. "I know it was just like an 'ebb' period and we would have found our way back to each other, but at the time we were really only seeing each other because I was pregnant with the Fee-ster and you were my doctor. It wasn't until…" Savvy again does not finish, but Addison understands. Telling Savvy that she was having an affair – and the fallout after getting caught – was really what increased the length of their conversations, and the hours they spent together. "Anyway, who would have thought Mark would unintentionally be the one to bring us back together…am I being too sentimental? Being drunk makes me sentimental. And I was also just thinking…you were so nervous leading up to your wedding to Derek," Savvy muses while swirling the remaining wine in her glass. "And I get that, because I was that way with Weiss, too, but now…" she looks over at Addison. "You're so chill about it."

"I was nervous because I was young, and now I'm -"

"Slightly less young," Savvy helpfully contributes.

"Slightly less young, yes. It was right to marry Derek though. I regret how my first marriage ended, but I don't have any regrets about marrying him. It was right. It was the right choice then. Just like…just like how it's the right choice to marry Mark. And it's right to marry him now." Addison realizes it is her turn to be sentimental when her voice cracks. "I love him so much, Sav."

"I know. It's sort of gross how much you do. All those years ago – don't say how many – I remember thinking how lucky we were that we would have the chance to grow old with the stupid boys we loved…and become these crazy, old wrinkled couples who argue all the time. And how lucky we were that we'd get to do it together. I'm just trying to say…" Savvy gives her a warm smile. "I'm glad we still get to do this together."

"Me too."

. .
. .

"We're good to go," Mark tells Addison when she returns from the kitchen. He gestures over his shoulder to the baby gate he finished installing at the bottom of the stairs. "It's like we never put the thing away." He makes his way towards her, meeting in the center.

"Sometimes I think maybe we never should have." She lifts her chin, which prompts Mark to turn around and see what he is missing: Ruby's hands are currently gripping the curved handrail, and one of her legs is starting to bow out in an obvious attempt to hoist herself over the gate. Probably for just because. "Hey…" Addison says, which is enough to capture Ruby's attention. "You don't have to climb over it, Roodles. Use the button on the gate. And then you have to pull it closed until you hear the 'click.' But, actually…what is it you need to get right now that's upstairs?" She holds back a smirk when Ruby mumbles nothing – just as Addison suspected – and then wanders back to the playroom, where Clara is sliding beads along the maze portion of an activity cube. That was what Clara was doing the last time Addison checked on the status of the playroom, at least. Or confirmed the status, really, because all she would like is for the room to not look like a cyclone has worked its way through it when their guests arrive.

"It still looked good when I poked my head in a few minutes ago." Mark can tell what Addison is thinking about, and then they both almost chuckle at their next shared thought: a lot can happen with kids in a few minutes (especially when Ruby is one of those kids). The weekly cleaning service they utilize handles vacuuming and dusting the playroom, but the girls are responsible for keeping it (reasonably) clutter-free. Mark and Addison have always been firm with this, but toys and games have been accumulating over the past few days, given everything that has been going on. Neither daughter was particularly happy this afternoon when they were instructed to straighten up the room. "I poked my head in probably around the time you clenched your jaw and then didn't stop clenching it." He touches the back of his hand to Addison's cheek, and she smiles ruefully.

"I'm not nervous-nervous," she explains. "Just...a little anticipation-nervous, I guess." She is not sure if it makes sense. It is the hostessing portion of having Derek, Meredith, and Theo in her home, and exposing her ex-husband to another layer of her now-life, maybe. She does not need Mark to understand what she means though, especially if she cannot understand it herself. She just needs his support, and if there is one thing she has always had, it is that.

"Here we go…" Mark barely has the words out of his mouth before Clara and Ruby are running past him, as though they are in a race and the chime of the doorbell was the starter pistol. They wait by the front door so that one of their parents can open it – another thing Addison and Mark are very firm on – but they are bouncing with anticipation as Addison pulls the door open to welcome their guests.

"Oh, thank you. You didn't need to do this." Addison smiles as she accepts a succulent in a ceramic planter Meredith is dutifully holding out for her, along with a borderline-awkward we wanted to bring something for you explanation. "It's beautiful." She passes it to Mark. "Would you mind putting it in the kitchen where there's more light? And maybe getting some glasses of water...?" Addison's thought was essentially complete, and Mark has already started in the direction of the kitchen, but the softening of her voice towards the end of the request is more about ushering Derek and Meredith out of the entryway so they can see where the girls are taking their son. Clara and Ruby have each seized one of Theo's hands and are now pulling him through the gallery room. Addison is thankful they seem to recognize that Theo is slower than they are, so even though they are dragging him along, at least they are being somewhat gentle about it.

"I feel like we stop existing to Theo the moment he sees your girls," Derek jokes.

"They're bringing him to the playroom." Addison signals straight ahead to the open, light-filled room with French sliding doors. When she and Mark first toured the duplex, that particular room had clearly been designed to be a dining room, but it has never been anything but a playroom to the Montgomery-Sloans. That had been Addison's idea. So much life happens in the kitchen, so she wanted that to be the place where they gathered for their meals. Surely if they ate in a dining room, the meals they shared would be just as warm and conversation-filled, since it is them, but Addison tends to associate dining rooms with her childhood: formal dinners with the hard-backed chairs and the expensive lace tablecloth and children who were expected not to speak much. "And that's the living room…the kitchen's that way…there's a bathroom over there." She quickly points out the rooms on either side. "And we put our old baby gate up…" this time Addison indicates the staircase against a cream wall. "Not that Theo's not allowed upstairs, but I just figured it would be easier for…containment purposes."

"We have the same exact gate," Meredith says. "He's usually pretty good about not wandering off, but thanks – that was nice of you."

When they reach the playroom, Addison tries to see it through Theo's eyes. The girls have now released Theo from their grasp, but are hovering just a step behind him as he curiously explores the room. There are colorful bins filled with blocks, smaller toys, and things that can be put together and taken apart. Matching wooden easels. A dollhouse. A little green table used for coloring, craft projects, Play-Doh creations, and tea parties. A play kitchen Clara received for her first birthday. A corner area with a rack for the girls' dress-up clothes. A storage basket in one of the other corners that holds some of the stuffed animals the girls have deemed to be okay in here instead of in their bedrooms, and behind the basket is the –

There it is, Addison thinks when she hears Theo's sharp intake of air. Even if she had her eyes closed, she would have known exactly what elicited this reaction: the giant duck. She watches as Clara tells Theo, it's just a toy, it's not real, and then walks over with him to get a closer look at the duck. Theo reaches out to pet one of the soft wings after Clara has offered him a bit more encouragement.

Addison nods when Derek quietly describes the duck as gargantuan. "We have a lot of duck things," she explains. "Clara was obsessed with ducks when she was around Theo's age, and we made the mistake of telling people she liked ducks, so -"

"I guess we'll play it close to the vest about Theo and hippos, then," Derek interrupts.

"Yes. Or just…try not to have people in your life who will be obnoxious about it. The duck was a gift from Archer." Addison has seen plenty of jumbo-sized stuffed animals, but this one…she never asked her brother, but she thinks maybe he had it custom-made. The box the duck arrived in looked like it could have easily fit a washing machine.

Derek releases a low chuckle. "That sounds about right."

"Mom…" Clara looks at Addison. Theo has plopped down in front of the play kitchen, and the girls are showing him the available fake foods in the storage cabinet. Clara does not expand any further, but Addison knows what she is hinting at.

"I was thinking we could sit in there." Addison directs Derek and Meredith's attention back to the gallery room. It is more formal-looking than the rest of their home, but also a "hub" in the sense that it is their center passage between the living room, kitchen, and playroom. The three of them moved so briskly in an effort to get to the playroom that Addison assumes Derek and Meredith are now able to take in the gallery set-up a bit more. There is a blue deep-seat sofa facing the fireplace, and matching armchairs diagonal from the sofa and about ten feet apart. The coffee table where Mark is finishing setting down glasses is supported by a light gray bouclé-woven rug (a gift from Bizzy). "We'll still be able to see them from there," Addison adds. "Unless you'd rather be closer, since he's younger. We could always bring chairs in here." She nods when Derek and Meredith tell her the other room is fine. "When he's a bit older, you'll start getting the 'are you going to watch us the whole time?' question. As though our sheer presence is the most embarrassing thing ever." It is more of a we're-big-kids-now thing than embarrassment with Clara and Ruby, Addison supposes, but she knows the embarrassment part will eventually come.

"You guys have a really nice home," Derek says when Addison motions for him and Meredith to sit on the sofa. She and Mark both utter a thank you as they sit down in the armchairs.

"Can we get you anything else? Or anything for Theo? We have plenty of snacks, but I figured Mark can start grilling in like a half hour and we can eat around six-thirty, if that works?" Addison speaks a little too quickly, and finds herself having to thickly swallow as Derek and Meredith assure her they do not need anything. "Okay. Just let us know if you change your minds. Oh." She notices that Mark is already out of water, and she assumes that just like her nervous energy seems to be translating into a desire to make sure their guests feel one-hundred percent accommodated, his is downing the contents of his glass so that he has something to do with his hands. "Here." She plucks his glass off the table. "I'll get you more. And I'll bring the pitcher in. Since some of us -" she gives Meredith a friendly smile "- need to make sure to keep up our fluid intake."

"Thanks, bunny." Mark looks at Derek after saying this, evaluating his reaction while feeling a touch apologetic; he had not meant to call Addison that in front of him. Derek's eyebrows briefly lift in a way that in Mark's opinion simply conveys, well, that's new, but Mark can feel his cheeks growing warmer anyway, even as Derek recovers and asks a few guest-appropriate questions about their home: how long they have lived here, and if it is close to work and the girls' schools. The "bunny thing" sort of just slipped out…this situation is unique, to put it mildly, but Mark would also feel like he was revealing something sacred if he addressed his wife this way in mixed company that did not include an ex-husband. It has always felt like this particular nickname just belongs to them. And, if nothing else, not saying it when there are other ears in the room cuts down on confusion, because just a few months ago he called Addison "bunny" while they were making dinner, and Ruby immediately spun around and stated, completely flabbergasted, "I thought your name was Addison."

Mark feels the pressure in his chest start to loosen when Addison returns with his glass and a pitcher of ice-cold water; her presence always has a lightening effect on him. He observes as she gives Meredith another earnest smile. We did the "mom stuff" yesterday, she says, but I didn't really get the chance to ask about your work. Or…she glances at Derek next…or your work, either.

Medicine guides them – maybe it always has, Mark thinks, even though he knew Derek long before they went to Columbia, and long before Addison tied them together in ways he never could have expected. But, as the words flow both easily and pleasantly, he starts to feel more relaxed, and is able to contribute to the conversation about surgeries and long-term goals and research and publications. He felt like a weight was lifted after talking with Derek yesterday, and until Derek arrived this afternoon, he was actually feeling excited to have him over, but as soon as the doorbell rang, he could feel the pressure building again. Hosting jitters. Mark remembers Addison saying that once, the first time they had Tasha and Mel over. Or maybe it is just post-vulnerability nerves about seeing Derek again after having such an honest conversation – their first real conversations in years.

They transition to talking about the kids (and occasionally poke a head into the playroom to check on said kids), and although it can be argued that this is the easiest thing to talk about, it does not really feel like a fail-safe to keep the dialogue going. Mark considers that, as sappy as it is, maybe even sappier than calling his wife bunny is, they are actually talking about love. And it only takes a few more stories before a piece of his heart comes back into the room, as though his thoughts called out to her. Clara informs Addison they are "playing with the trucks," and then leans close to her mother's ear to whisper something Mark cannot make out.

"Why don't you ask her?" Addison says, but Clara shakes her head shyly. Addison then shifts her gaze in Meredith's direction. "Hey, Meredith -" and Mark knows that Addison will adopt Clara's question as her own "- I was wondering what kind of doctor you are."

"I'm a general surgeon." While Meredith graciously plays along, it occurs to Mark that for reasons he cannot figure out – or at least not in this moment – his older daughter seems more drawn to Meredith, whereas Ruby seems more drawn to Derek. "So mostly when people have problems here…" Mark notices the half-second Meredith hesitates after touching her stomach; he assumes she has worked out that Clara probably thinks of this as the area her mom focuses on. "With their tummies," she adds quickly.

Addison nudges Clara's shoulder. "When Lucy got her appendix taken out – remember? – the doctor who removed it was a general surgeon." Clara nods, and then looks over at Derek, her lips still forming a seam but the same question in her eyes.

"I'm a brain surgeon," he tells her, tapping the side of his head.

"Wow." Clara sounds almost reverent.

Derek stares at Meredith once Clara has returned to the playroom. "Did you see how she was way more impressed with mine?"

"Oh, like brain surgery is so impressive." Addison cannot help herself, and from the little smirk displayed on Meredith's face, it seems like maybe she only just beat her to the punch on this one.

"It is, actually," Derek counters, but his tone is lighthearted, friendly.

"Clara's also impressed that the world is circle-shaped and that chocolate milk doesn't come from brown cows," Mark says. "So…it doesn't mean as much as you think it does." It probably does not warrant anything more than a smile, but something about this makes Derek laugh, and then they all start laughing. It is normal in the way something like this can be normal. Just like real and not real, it is normal and not normal. But, it still means something. Mark peers over at Addison, who is grinning at him.

. .
. .

Five Years Earlier

"We're getting married tomorrow." Addison touches her lips to Mark's, but her kiss feels more like a hovering breath than physical contact, because she cannot stop smiling and giggling. "Tomorrow," she says again, and this time her gasp of laughter is smothered by a kiss that Mark initiates. It is more effective than any of her previous attempts, and the way he moves his mouth over hers is deep enough that when he pulls back, she is certain she has stars lingering in her eyes.

"We're getting married tomorrow." Mark's smile matches hers. "Am I even supposed to be here right now?" He followed Addison beneath the comforter without a second thought after they put Clara down for the night. "Isn't it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding? Or is that just a 'morning of' thing?"

"I think we both know that zero things about how we've done anything as a couple make sense. We'll get dressed separately tomorrow, but not for luck purposes. Just so that I can give you the full visual. I'm excited for you to see my dress." It is a simple, uninvolved choice for her – just a short-sleeved ivory dress that falls to her knees – but she feels beautiful in it.

"I am, too. In the meantime though…" he eases his hand under her pajama top to brush against soft skin. "Since we're not factoring in any 'luck' things…that means there isn't any reason you can't spread your legs the night before you get married, right?"

"Mark."

"It's just a question." He adopts an expression of innocence in response to Addison's feigned (mostly feigned) disgust. She arches closer, and then they are kissing again, teeth accidentally clicking as they work their way through residual laughter. At the same time Mark scales his hand further up to touch more softness though, weak crying begins to chirp through the baby monitor.

"Well." Addison sighs. "Maybe she thinks it's bad luck."

They know they should give it a few minutes – and normally they would at least half-heartedly try to give it a few minutes to see if their thirteen-month-old settles back down on her own – but Addison looks at Mark, and he gives her an affirming nod. After the ceremony, they are heading to Westhampton, and will not be back to pick up Clara from Savvy and Weiss's until Monday. So caving feels pretty natural, given the circumstances.

"Well, hello there," Mark says when they open Clara's bedroom door. Clara immediately stops crying. She makes one last sniffling noise from where she is standing in her crib, and then flashes her parents a wide smile. "You're not really selling the performance if you stop the second we come in here, you know."

Just like they know better than to get Clara right away when she starts crying after bedtime, Addison and Mark also know removing their daughter from her crib to read a book about farm animals is not the sort of quiet reassurance that will help Clara get the message that she needs to go back to sleep, but again they cannot help it. Addison snuggles Clara close in her lap, but she loosens her grip when she feels Clara trying to stretch one of her arms towards Mark; Clara continues to love to hold his hand when the three of them read together. Mark takes Clara's hand, and then stoops to press his lips over her dimpled knuckles, making an exaggerated kissing noise that yields a giggle from Clara.

"I wonder if the next one will do this, too," Addison says. "Proffer their hand to you like a little prince or princess."

"We'll see. Hey, Clarabelle, this is your last night doing 'the sardine thing' with your unwed parents," Mark tells Clara as she brings her other hand near her face to suck her thumb. "I asked your mommy to marry me after she asked me to ask her to marry me. I know…" Clara's gaze has shifted away from him. "It's a tough sentence to follow, and you're much more interested in that cow." He taps the cover of the book. Despite Clara's level of interest though, Mark is pretty sure she isn't going to be able to stay awake for the entire story; she already looks sleepy in Addison's arms. "What does the cow say, Clara?" Both parents provide Clara with an exuberant amount of praise when she says moo, the word muddied by the thumb in her mouth.

Mark is right: Clara's eyes are fluttering at half-mast when Addison starts reading the book, and although she is briefly reenergized when they get to the page with the ducks, she falls asleep before they reach the end. Mark takes the book from Addison and sets it on the floor, and then settles back in the rocking chair; they will wait a little longer, just to be sure Clara stays asleep.

"It's supposed to clear up by morning." Mark is careful to keep his voice low when he speaks. Addison is looking out Clara's bedroom window, where droplets of water are continuing to gather. When she looks at him though, he can tell by her expression that she is untroubled by the less-than-ideal-for-a-wedding weather.

"If not, we have umbrellas. It's okay. Hey…" she beams. "It's raining and we're a family." Mark smiles back at her, but she does not see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Don't you remember telling me that? When I was in early labor with Clara and it was raining…you told me something like that before we left for the hospital."

"It rings a bell, now that you mention it. I was so freaking nervous the first few hours though. I'm pretty sure I don't remember like ninety-percent of the things I said. I promise…" he does not want to disturb Clara, so he relies on eye contact with Addison's stomach to be enough. "I promise I'll be a little braver with the next one."

"You were great the first time," Addison says. He was nervous, but he got stronger as her contractions began to land closer together, and by the time they left for Mount Sinai, Mark was able to provide her with all the verbal and emotional support she needed. And, as an added bonus, he knew to just take it when certain parts of active labor definitely made Addison a significantly meaner person. "And you'll be great with the next one, too." She reaches for Mark's hand, and then brings it the rest of the way to her stomach. Clara shifts from the movement, but Addison is not concerned. If it wakes Clara up, and they need to help her fall back to sleep again, it is fine.

They have all the time in the world.

. .
. .

"Did you want to start grilling? It's almost…wow." Addison looks away from Mark with a grimace as music steadily increasing in volume pumps from the Echo Dot in the playroom. "They're going college house party loud today, I guess."

"If you ask the girls, that's the only way to play Taylor Swift's music. This song is called '22.' These are the things I know now." Mark grins sheepishly at Derek as he reveals this, but oddly enough, something in Derek's face seems to confirm he recognized both the artist and the song without any input from Mark. "We hear this one a lot," he adds. "And let me tell you, it's equal parts hilarious and horrifying when your four-year-old looks you dead in the eye and sing-songs, 'I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 22.'"

"It is," Addison confirms. "I might go tell them -"

"To turn 'the Red Album' down a bit?"

Addison smirks. "Just 'Red,' Mark. This isn't the Beatles.'"

"Well, they sure act like anything Taylor sings is as influential as 'the White Album.'"

When Addison returns from the playroom, Ruby and Theo are both enthusiastically trailing behind her, ready to show off the accessories they are wearing. Playing dress up: another thing Mark really had no concept of before he had children. Theo is currently sporting a purple boa, sunglasses, and elbow-length gloves that are a little too big on him. Ruby has on a similar pair of sunglasses, and a silk twill Hermès scarf draped over her shoulders. When they visit Addison's parents, Bizzy will occasionally give the girls "old scarves" to take back with them. She was quite tickled the time that Ruby told her the "capes" she was wearing made her look like "a pretty superhero."

"Theo…" Meredith coos. "You look so fancy." She raises her phone to take a picture of Theo, and addresses Derek while she encourages Theo to come closer: "Cristina will love this."

"Mommy…?" Ruby looks over at Addison. "Aren't you going to take a picture?" She held back for a moment – which is a record as far as Addison and Mark are concerned – so that Meredith could manage to get a picture of just her son, but now Ruby has sweetly grabbed Theo's hand, and is standing close to him.

"My phone is in the other room," Addison says. "Meredith can probably text me the pictures." She watches as Meredith calls out another one-two-three, and then gets a few more pictures of the two kids. Ruby immediately asks to see the pictures, and after she has shared her excitement over them, she turns back to Addison, who is able to predict the question that is coming next. Ruby has a particular look about her when she is about to claim that she is hungry. "Dad is going to get the burgers started," Addison tells her. "Why don't you and Theo go play with your sister for a bit longer? We're going to stay in here." She makes sure her voice sounds a little firmer at the end so that Ruby understands Mark is going to utilize the grilling station on the roof without her. The girls love to go up to the roof that the building's residents have access to – it's not Central Park, but it's still an outdoor space with enough room to run around – but Addison knows the process of getting the hamburgers ready will go much quicker if Mark does not have company.

Child company, that is. It turns out adult company is fine, because when Mark goes to the kitchen to collect the ground beef, cheese, and buns, Derek offers to help him.

"This is nice." Derek makes a sweeping gesture with his hand when they reach the top of the building, and Mark inclines his head in agreement. There are potted plants spread around the perimeter of the rubber deck tiles. There is a lush garden bed that the couple in 14/15A patiently tend to with limited help from the rest of the residents, tables with long benches, two sleek grilling stations, and a Bocce Ball court.

"Yeah." Mark sets everything on the prep space beside one of the grills, and then walks over to the brick barrier at the edge of the roof. When Derek follows, he points in the direction of Central Park. It is not much from here – the tall, spindly-looking trees on the other side of Fifth are really just pale blurs, especially in juxtaposition to the large, shadow-streaked buildings. "That's basically where we were yesterday," Mark says in reference to Levin Playground, and when Derek again mentions the view, he adds, "I heard you have a nice view, too." The first time he had heard about Derek's life in Seattle was a little over two years ago when Savvy reported back to Addison – who reported back to Mark – about what her trip to Seattle had been like. And, not just Seattle. That was really the first time Mark had heard anything about Derek's life in years. It was always strange to him, that he and Derek were best friends until the moment Derek walked in on him in bed with Addison. Derek and Addison were husband and wife until that moment, but they had drifted apart long before Derek left the rain-soaked brownstone and drove across the country. Mark's narrative was different. "Savvy told us about…about your place, after she visited you guys. She said it was beautiful. And she also said that you live in 'the forest-woods.'" Mark grins. "That's what she called it."

"She texted me yesterday." Derek tucks his hands into his pockets. "I guess I just missed them?"

"Yeah. They left for St. Croix the day of Meredith's procedure. It's too bad. It would have been fun to have all gotten together," Mark says, as though this is something they would regularly do. He wonders if he should head over to the grill and start preparing the food, but Derek does not seem to mind staying here for a little longer and taking in the cityscape.

"Savvy tolerated 'the forest-woods' pretty well, for a city girl." Derek chuckles. "It's quite a drive from the ferry boats and civilization to our place. Addison would hate it, other than the fact that it feels a little less woodsy when you're inside the house." Derek looks at Mark, as though assessing him. "You probably wouldn't hate it though if it was just a short-term thing."

"I could handle the woods," Mark says. "I went to the woods plenty growing up with you." Derek and his dad always included him when they went camping at Cayuga Lake. A guys trip, Christopher would announce, which made Mark, who was just so happy to be included, smile proudly.

"You could handle the woods if you knew it wasn't permanent."

"True," Mark concedes. "It's so different with city kids." He sees Derek nod. Mark was not privy to the conversations Derek and Addison would have had about their planned-for future children, but of course Derek would have had visions of what raising kids in Manhattan would be like; he and Addison would have never been the kind of couple to relocate to Scarsdale after having kids. "Especially since I – well, you too – was raised in the suburbs. I love that Clara and Ruby get to grow up here, but it's definitely surreal sometimes. I'm pretty sure the only actual backyard they've ever seen is my dad's. Like, a legitimate fenced-in one."

"We have a little of both," Derek shares. "It's mostly open space, but there's a section outside the living room that has a patio enclosure and some benches. It's nice for when we want to spend time outside, but want to keep Theo contained. It's really not that tall though. Theo hasn't had any interest in trying to scale it yet, but the other Scorpio might, if she were to come visit."

It sounds so hopeful to Mark, and he allows his thoughts to linger on what it might be like to visit Derek in Seattle, with Addison and the girls. He pulls in a slower breath, and then refocuses on Derek, who thankfully did not notice his momentary distraction.

"…and it's quiet, which is nice. Like, peaceful quiet though, not creepy quiet, even though we're like the only voices for miles."

"Derek." Mark suddenly understands the source of the pressure in his chest he felt when Derek arrived. You just had a breakthrough, he knows Olivia would say. Although yesterday's conversation ended exactly where it should – a natural stop gap – there is still an unfinished element for Mark. None of this pressure is about having Derek come to his home for the first time, or having him back in his life in some capacity, or having the chance to spend a little more time together. It is that for as much as Mark feels like he said everything he needed to say to Derek, he realizes now that the everything was specifically about the affair, and him and Addison. There is still one more thing left to share.

"What?"

He swallows nervously. "I was hoping…there's something I want to tell you about my mom."

Derek turns to look at him, an expression of faint surprise on his face. "About Jenny?"

"Yeah."

. .
. .

Seven Years Earlier

The frost that was crusted across the hotel window a few hours ago is gone. In its place, beads of moisture stripe the exterior glass, shielding the winter elements. This change is Addison's first thought when she awakens and begins to adjust to her surroundings. Her next thought comes rapidly though as the events of last night come tumbling back: Mark. Jenny. She rolls over, and feels Mark's hand close around her shoulder.

"It's okay." Mark gently pushes down when she attempts to rise up. "It's still early." He is seated against the headboard, but opts to lie down again to convince Addison there is no reason to rush. A few days ago, she had gotten up too quickly upon waking, and had felt lightheaded, so he would prefer to avoid a repeat of that. She had muttered something about blood volume changes, which Mark assumed was just a nicer way of saying, It's Clara's fault. "A little past eight," he contributes when Addison asks for the time, her sleep-slurred question sounding more like timesit. "I texted my dad and told him we'd come over around ten."

"Are you sure?" She frowns at him. The original plan had been to go to Everett's around nine for breakfast before they drive back to Manhattan. "I could still be ready by -"

"I'm sure." Mark figures they could use an extra hour to decompress, or just…just be here and not there, honestly. He is not looking forward to talking more with his dad. "Addison…" his voice softens as he focuses on her. "Thanks for helping me get through last night." I think I forgot how strong you are. This part is not said aloud, because it sounds insulting, even though Mark does not mean for it to. The past year though has, understandably, exposed so much fragility in Addison, and until yesterday, they have never wavered from who does the caretaking and comforting.

"You're welcome, but you don't have to thank me. Were you able to get some more sleep?" She woke him around three when Clara was kicking so that he could feel kicks that actually felt like kicks – and Mark was so excited, so she knew she did the right thing – and they had talked for bit after that, but the next portion is fuzzy. Addison had been lying on his chest, and wanted to stay awake until he fell back to sleep, but she is not convinced she managed to.

"I was." He can see how closely she is studying him. "I emailed Olivia and told her what…what my dad told me. She said she can see me tomorrow at seven." Mark's throat had briefly constricted when Olivia replied to his email and offered him this time; her receptionist has never scheduled him for an appointment later than five o'clock, which leaves him with the impression Olivia is extending her hours just for him. "I feel like I should tell her that for a therapist, she has pretty crappy boundaries." His mouth stretches to form a thin smile. "Checking her work emails on a Sunday."

"Maybe she's one of those therapists who has her life completely together. You know, does a six AM Pilates class, then a quick email check, and then has a healthy breakfast and goes about the rest of her day." Addison shifts her tone to a more sober one when she adds, "I can go with you tomorrow, if you want. It's up to you though. Whatever you want to do is okay."

"Thanks." He is grateful for her offer. A lifetime ago – a lifetime without Addison, or without Addison like this – Mark would have eschewed any form of vulnerability, but now, even if it was not pertaining to something upsetting, he would still want her support and company. "If…if we could go together, that would be good." He moves his hand down to her stomach, wanting to talk about something more optimistic. "How's the little lady this morning?"

"Clara's good," Addison reports, "but she's currently camping out on my bladder." This makes Mark laugh and give her a nudge. Go, he says, and she wriggles out from under the covers and proceeds to the bathroom with the frenetic energy of a woman now in her third trimester. When she steps back into the main room after relieving herself though, Mark can still see a certain lack of mellowness in her movements. It is recognizable for what it is: the urge to help, the urge to fix.

"Do you want some coffee?" She points to the side table where a coffee maker and fresh grounds are set up. "I can get some started. Or…" she continues when Mark shakes his head and declines. She tugs on the end of one of her pajama sleeves. "Or a cappuccino or something? It's a pretty big room service menu. I can call and -"

"I'm fine. Just…" he pats the mattress. "Come here. Please." He holds an arm up, and then settles it over Addison's waist when she gets back into bed with him. "I don't need anything else right now." He needs his mother to not have been a victim – and survivor – of sexual abuse, and he would very much like to have Derek back in his life, but realistically, when Mark considers everything he has and does not have, Addison is all he needs.

"Okay." Addison's voice comes out small. She is trying so, so hard not to cry, and although Mark cannot see her face – her back is flush against his chest – she is certain he can tell. It only takes a few seconds before she hears him lightly croon her name, and she lets him do the majority of the work when he tugs on her limbs to turn her around in his embrace. A noise that translates into something between a whimper and a gulp escapes her, and tears start to fall when Mark draws her against him and cups the back of her head.

"I know," he says, even though she has not said anything yet.

"I'm just sad for Jenny. And for you."

"I know," Mark repeats. "It's going to be okay though." It is not the easiest thing to believe right now, but it has to be true. He rubs Addison's upper back, moving his hand in circles until the gesture eventually slows down her tears and soothes the tightness in her cry-tensed muscles.

"I should be the one telling you that it's going to be okay."

"You told me last night. So now I'm telling you." He uses his thumb to smudge away one of her tears. "Jenny's funeral…" he is not sure why he is bringing it up. "I don't know if I could have gotten through it without you…without you both." There is no need to clarify who the other half of both is. "And I'm not sure I ever said 'thank you' for being there, and for everything you did to help." As much as Mark knows now how reassuring it is to not have to go through anything alone, it occurs to him that he knew it at that time, too – or at least for that particular circumstance.

"You did." Addison pulls back to look at him. "More than once. I can remember you thanking me, and I'm sure you thanked Derek, too."

Mark gives her an acquiescing nod. He supposes he did thank them, then. Just…individually, probably. Not as a unit. He has such a distinctive memory of standing up after Jenny's service concluded, and feeling Derek's shoulder brushing against his, and Addison on the other side, softly grasping his elbow. It was his loss, not theirs, but in that moment, it was something they shared. It occurred to Mark at the time that they were strong, times three, and that they would find a way through this, a way forward. Together, he was convinced.

. .
. .

"I'm glad Addie was there for you, after you…after you found out. She was always really good with this stuff. About knowing what to say, and what to do." Derek squeezes Mark's arm once, and then retracts his hand. "I'm really sorry, Mark. That's horrible. I didn't…" his voice skitters off, and Mark completes the rest of the sentence in his head: I didn't know. Of course Derek didn't, but he can understand why that is a natural thing to say. He has told a few people over the years about Jenny: Lynette, Savvy and Weiss, Ian and Sabrina, Tasha and Mel. After decades of putting up borders and emotionally shoving people away, letting them in actually feels so much better. But he never attempted to breech the border that separated him and Derek: his former best friend and his current…sort-of-something-friend.

"Has it been tough having girls?" Derek asks. "I know it doesn't just happen – I know it happens to boys, too," he quickly adds. "I guess what I should really be asking is if having kids ever makes it harder for you."

Mark notices that Derek's cheeks are flushed, as though he is now debating whether he should have brought this up. Mark does not judge anything about it though, and he does not particularly mind the question. It is a difficult thing to talk about, and perhaps even more difficult to know where to start. You cannot process everything at once after hearing something like this; Mark learned that lesson almost instantly.

"Sometimes it's harder, yeah." It is not often anymore for Mark, but the truth is, pain has no blueprint, and neither do triggers.

"You said that she never…did she ever try to talk about it with anyone besides your dad?"

"No. Never. That we know of, at least." Mark looks at Derek as he explains, "She had a psychiatrist she saw for a few years, but my dad's understanding was that Jenny never told Dr. Palmer about the sexual abuse. She was able to find other ways to discuss her anxiety and get medication for it. And eventually she stopped seeing that doctor, anyway. She was…well, you know what she was like, and the kind of crowd she ran around with. She had enough friends who had Ativan and whatever-else-prescriptions."

"I remember you telling me about that Palmer guy once. His license was revoked, right?"

"Yeah. I think even if he wasn't handing out pills like candy to patients though, or even if Jenny had done talk therapy or seen a DBT therapist…I don't know if she would have talked about it. I think…her entire childhood had to have been a combination of isolation and fear. And it was a different time, you know? There was so much shame around it; the topic didn't get the traction it does now. And I think she honestly felt like Everett was the only person who needed to know. I read somewhere once that sometimes when survivors disclose what happened to them, they wind up having to comfort the person they disclosed to. And Jenny wouldn't have wanted to add pain to anyone else's plate."

"Especially yours," Derek says quietly.

"I think she just wanted to try to forget that it ever happened. She couldn't though – even the pills and booze couldn't take it away. But even if she had wanted to talk about it, I think that if you stop having a voice for long enough, maybe it's hard to get one back. So I just…my kids obviously have a very different childhood from my mom's, and from the one I had…but we try to make sure they know they have voices and that when they use them, we'll listen. And we'll help, if they need help."

It brings to mind for Mark an incident from just a few months ago: a trigger on the usually-okay-but-no-blueprint path when it comes to knowing what happened to Jenny. To celebrate the end of the school year, the mother of one of Clara's classmates got all the girls and their parents to go out for ice cream at a place near Spence. The rising first graders managed to talk their way into sitting at the table next to their parents rather than with them, and as a concession to the slight dip in supervision, Mark, Addison, and the rest of the parents agreed that a massive tip was going to be in order.

Clara came up to him after everyone had been served, and lightly tugged on his wrist to get his attention.

"I didn't get mine yet," she told him, her eyes a little wider. Not upset, really. Just puzzled.

"Oh," Mark said, feeling guilty. It had been at least five minutes since there had been a flourish of activity around the two tables, and when he saw the waitresses bringing sundaes to the girls' table, he had just assumed everything was in order. He had also been a little occupied with looking at his phone to confirm preschool pick-up had gone well for Paulina. "Okay. Let's go ask, kiddo."

It turned out the staff had somehow forgotten Clara's sundae in the afternoon shuffle, but they were apologetic and quickly completed her order, and made a big show of adding extra whipped cream on top, which had Clara beaming.

"She's so patient," Sabrina praised when everything was settled and Clara was finally eating her ice cream with the rest of her friends. "Lucy would have been complaining like sixty seconds later if she wasn't served when everyone else was."

Mark looked over at Addison, and they traded a smile. They have tried to teach the girls table manners, but Clara sort of took to it naturally, without much input from them. They like to joke that she inherited her table manners from her maternal grandmother, but without the disdain for wait staff, or propensity to send food back if it is not to her liking. Ruby has been more of a challenge though so far…and they know that like Lucy, she would have been complaining within sixty seconds, too.

It was not entirely amusing though. Not for Mark. He felt breathless with anxiety that night when he said to Addison, "If someone ever…" he could not even finish the thought. "Clara would tell us, right? If someone ever hurt her, or…or tried to hurt her?"

"Yeah." Addison pulled him into her embrace when tears started to form in his eyes. "She would tell us."

"I know it's not the same thing as her not getting up right away to tell me she hadn't gotten her ice cream, but -"

"I can understand why your brain would jump to this, though," Addison said. "Let's talk with them both tomorrow, just to reiterate." They have braided conversations about body safety into their dialogue on occasion in the past three years with Clara, and with Ruby, too. You still have to remind them sometimes to wash their hands, or look both ways before crossing the street, right? Olivia told Mark once when they were discussing the subject. Same with this. You want to revisit the safety and "unhealthy secrets" talk from time to time – as naturally as you can work it into the conversation – so that it stays fresh in their heads.

"Addie…I don't know that I can." He felt so weak for saying this.

"Then I'll talk to them about safe and unsafe touch and private body parts, and make sure they know they can always tell us anything, and that we want them to tell us if they're ever worried about something…but you'll sit next to me while I do," Addison said, being strong in the spaces where he was falling apart. Mark nodded into her shoulder, recognizing the importance of them handling this as a team, even though his wife usually does more of the talking when they bring this up with the girls. "A little better?" She added when he began to slacken in her arms. "Do you want to lie down and just watch TV for a bit?"

"Yeah. I think I…I think I want to see them first though."

They checked on their sleeping daughters once they arrived upstairs. Ruby first, limbs splayed out and messy haired beneath her solar system-themed comforter, as wild in sleep as she is during her waking hours. And then Clara, tucked on her side and peaceful-looking, one cheek glowing against the backdrop of her projector nightlight, and a little fist curled around the paw of a stuffed otter.

"I promise you, Mark…" Addison slipped an arm around his waist. "Our babies will use their voices. And we'll keep making sure they know they can."

"That's good the girls know they can talk to you about anything," Derek says.

"Yeah." Mark breathes in slowly, wanting to shift his concentration to the present. "There was this…moment after Clara was born. There was a moment with Ruby, too, but her birth was more chaotic, so articulate thoughts weren't really happening on the same level. With Clara though, I just remember thinking, 'I will rip out the throat of anyone who hurts you.' Maybe it's something I would have thought anyway, but the thought was definitely amplified because of Jenny. Clara was born just a few months after my dad told me the truth." Mark realizes that he has never shared this hunters and gatherers-like thought before. It just didn't feel significant at the time; it was a flicker-and-fade second in between his whispers of you were amazing and she's beautiful and I love you both so much in that first hour post-delivery when Clara was resting on Addison's chest.

Apparently it was significant enough to share it now though.

"I felt that throat-ripping thing with Theo, too. It's nice to know it wasn't just me. I know the circumstances aren't the same…" Derek hesitates, his expression suggesting he does not want to match or transcend what has been revealed to him, but Mark simply nods. Derek of all people knows what loss and something about a parent that pulls apart the fabric of your life feels like. "But I definitely remember experiencing that."

"Your earlier question about whether having girls makes it harder…it would be tough regardless sometimes, because like you said, it's not exclusive to one sex. Boys actually…they're pretty underreported." This is something Mark knows now, though he wishes he did not. Or, more specifically, he wishes there wasn't a reason for him or anyone else to have to know this. He feels like he was an assertive child, but he was also left to fend for himself a lot, courtesy of a father who worked long hours and a mother who was sometimes catatonic, which meant he couldn't rely on either of them. If something had happened to Mark, if someone had harmed him consistently or even just once, would he have spoken up? Would he have used his voice in the way he has always encouraged Clara and Ruby to? He would like to think so, but there is no way to know for sure. "Anyway. It's just sometimes that it's a little tougher, and that I feel…affected. Not all the time, thankfully. And I…I love having girls. Theo's great, and I know I would have loved Ruby just as much if she was…Rubio or something, but I remember being so excited when we found out she was a girl. Something about sisters…about two little girls." Mark and his girls; Addison says it sometimes. "You'll love having girls. The whole 'boy mom' or 'girl dad' thing is so overdone, but girls are great. It also…its crossed my mind that there's some sort of cosmic reason mine are both girls. Like, after a lifetime of mostly treating women like shit, I get to make up for it now."

"You know the first hour after a baby is born? The -"

"Sacred Hour," Mark finishes at the same time Derek says Golden Hour. "I think it's interchangeable," he tacks on. "I've heard 'magic' before, too."

"Right. When we found out we were expecting twins…I was worried it maybe wouldn't be possible to have the same experience we had with Theo. It actually is though…I did a lot of Googling about it. Now though, it feels like such a stupid thing to have been hung up on. The girls will…because of all this, odds are they'll be premature and need to go straight to the NICU. I…I just need them to be healthy. That's all I need. That's the real 'magic.'" He glances over at Mark. "At least now though they have a fighting shot. Thanks to Addison."

"If they do end up needing to spend time in the NICU, there's still a good chance you'll get to hold them and do skin-to-skin. And then you'll have plenty of time to bond with them in all the sleepless nights that'll follow once they're able to go home." Mark knows it sounds awfully close to a promise, and being a surgeon means he knows better than to say things like this, but Derek seems a little uplifted by his words. "I should probably start getting the food ready. You know, if everything goes okay tomorrow morning…since you don't leave until Monday, you're more than welcome to come for dinner again. Or we could meet at the park and tire them out."

"Yeah. That would be nice." Derek clears his throat. "Mark…your mom would be so proud of you. Probably not proud of how you came to have the wife you do, but everything else…Jenny would be really proud. And she would have loved the girls. Clara looks like Addison, but she has -"

"My mom's nose," Mark interrupts, assuming that is what Derek was going to say. "So does Ruby, but she doesn't stand still for long, so it's harder to tell. Clara's middle name is Genevieve, actually. After my mom."

"It's a nice name. With Clara, when I met her on Tuesday, I remember saying she looked like Addie, which is true, but I also remember thinking just before I knelt down to say hello that she looked so much like Jenny, other than the hair color."

"Your mom said that exact same thing once."

"So I am turning into her then…the very thing I've often accused Nancy of. Wait." Derek's eyebrows shift closer together. "She never mentioned…when did you see my mom?" He asks, and Mark quickly explains about the picture he once sent Carolyn along with her birthday card. "It wouldn't bother me, if you wanted to have more contact with her," Derek says afterwards, his tone a little softer. "Like, if you wanted to expand your world a little, I guess."

"Thanks. I was kind of talking about that with Addison the other night. Like…like maybe sending Christmas cards to Carolyn and your sisters this year. I don't know. I've only ever done birthday cards for your mom in the past seven years."

Mark finds himself mulling over Derek's offer while he grills the burgers. The truth is, his world has expanded…just in different ways than he expected. In beautiful ways. He has his nuclear family, and a friend-family. He is close with Weiss and Savvy, and Ian and Sabrina, and Tasha and Mel, and Priya and Jay. And he is closer with Lynette than he was before everything started with Addison. And Addison's world has expanded, too. She still isn't close with her parents, but she's closer with them than she used to be…Bizzy in particular. She has always had Archer, but now she has him as a brother and as the girls' uncle, which in some ways has made her dynamic with him a more positive one. She has an in-law who genuinely likes and loves her. She has "mom friends" who have become friends without the "mom" qualifier, and the same goes for the people she works with. Mark can still remember one of the more touching gestures they experienced: a gift basket was dropped off for them after Ruby was born, containing some newborn items, a stuffed animal for Clara, and a bottle of wine for Mark and Addison. The card attached to the basket was signed by everyone at Premier, and it brought Addison to tears; she wasn't set to start her new position until the spring, and she really didn't know anyone at the group practice other than Priya at the time.

But maybe there are other parts of the world that no longer have to be as narrow. The more Mark thinks about it, the more he realizes there is something to be said for maybe having the chance to traverse the long-ago parts of his and Addison's world. Derek's renewed presence is proof of that.

. .
. .

"So…I told him." Mark waits until Addison meets his gaze in the ornate mirror. She is standing by the vanity table, removing today's jewelry pieces as they get ready for bed. "I told Derek about Jenny when we were on the roof," he explains.

Her voice is soft when she asks, "How did it go?"

"It feels weird to say 'it went well' about telling someone something like that, but…but yeah." Mark gives her a small smile in the glass. "It went well. And I'm glad I told him." His arms circle around Addison and he rests his chin on her shoulder. "I should have…you know, I wasn't really planning on talking about it with him, but then it all sort of came out when we were up there. Were you…were you thinking of telling him anything about Bizzy? I don't want you to feel like you can't just because I dropped something heavy on him. But…" at the same time, Mark knows that would be a lot of information for someone to digest in a short window.

"No, I wasn't going to tell him about Bizzy," Addison replies. "Not yet. One day, maybe." It seems more and more feasible that there will be a one day with Derek now. "I'm really glad you were able to talk about it with him." They are still looking at each other in the mirror when she angles a hand back to cup his cheek.

"I'm okay, Addie."

"Good." She can tell though. Mark looks so at peace right now. "I bet they'll sleep in tomorrow," she says when he turns his head to kiss her palm. Both girls were wiped out after playing with Theo. Mark had to carry Ruby to bed; she fell asleep on the couch during the movie the four of them were watching before the girls' bedtime. Addison will not have quite the same Sunday morning luxury as the girls (or Mark, to a certain extent) since she scheduled Meredith's follow-up appointment at her practice to be an early one, knowing how anxious the couple will be to do the ultrasound and echocardiogram…and so is she, frankly. "I'm happy you're okay, Mark." And then, just in case it was not already clear to her, her husband shows her just how okay he is when he twists her around and gently brushes his lips against hers.

Addison ends up being half-right: one daughter sleeps in. Mark is seated in the living room absently watching sports highlights and sipping his coffee the next morning when Clara appears at the bottom of the stairs (once again gate free).

"Good morning, kiddo." Mark grins when Clara comes to sit beside him on the couch. She draws her legs up and shifts so that she is facing him, and then reaches for one of his hands. My heart is going to break the day she stops wanting to hold my hand, he told Addison recently. Once Clara's right hand is curled inside his, she leans closer, and Mark has a fleeting memory – he never could have anticipated how nostalgia-filled parenthood is – of Clara a few months before her sister was born. They were in Greenwich for the weekend, and Clara was attempting to copy her parents as they tried to teach her how to smell the flowers in Bizzy's garden, but she wasn't quite getting it. He and Addison had both laughed each time Clara shook her face against dahlias and begonias.

"What's wrong with Meredith's babies?" Clara asks him.

"Oh." It is not that the question surprised Mark – honestly, he is surprised Clara hadn't asked it sooner – but he still needs a second to process that she brought it up. "So…" he begins. "Meredith and Derek's babies are identical twins -"

"Not like Nico and Ben," Clara states. She had a set of fraternal twins in her preschool class, and like Nico and Ben or not like Nico and Ben still tends to be the barometer if twins are ever brought up in the context of Addison's work.

"Exactly. So, before Nico and Ben were born, they would have been in separate bubbles, just like you and Ruby." He waits to make sure Clara is following. They use anatomically correct words for body parts, but when Addison once described what an amniotic sac was, Clara had said, "You mean like a bubble?" and now sac has become bubble in their house, for the most part. "And identical twins usually have their own bubbles too, but since there are two babies inside a mommy instead of one, they share certain things that help them grow. And one of the things is…there are blood vessels inside the bubble, and with Meredith's babies, somehow the blood vessels got tangled together -"

"Like a knot, you mean?"

"Right. Like a knot. And when that happens, it can make the babies sick. So your mom operated on Meredith and sort of…untied the knot. So now the babies are both okay." Mark knows this is a huge simplification of the after. Addison stabilized the situation. The outcome – both today's outcome and whatever will happen for the twins' development in the weeks that follow – remains to be seen.

"Are the babies still in the same bubble?" Clara asks. "That's good." Her voice is relief-tinged when Mark assures her that they are. "It's good they still get to be together."

"Yeah, it is. It's really good when you get to be with the people you love." He grabs the remote with his free hand, and then offers it to Clara so she can pick something to watch. She rests her head against his shoulder once she has found a show she likes, and Mark enjoys this quiet time with her while they wait for the last member of their household to make an appearance.

"I'm hungry," Ruby announces by way of greeting when she finally comes into the living room.

"Me too." Clara looks at Mark. "Can we make pancakes?" She lets go of his hand and clambers off the couch. "Grandma Jenny ones?"

"Yeah, we can do that. Hey, Rubes…" Mark makes a clucking noise with his tongue when Ruby plops down on the couch, taking the space Clara was in. He tilts his head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Can I watch TV while you make them?"

"Nope. C'mon. If you want pancakes, you have to help." He can feel Clara staring at him again, so he meets her eyes. She has reached an age where they can sometimes exchange a look rather than verbalize the thing they are both thinking, and it's just…really cool, honestly. And this time, they are thinking that the last time Ruby "helped," one of the gingerbread pancakes hit the ceiling. "We'll do it together and just…be very careful with how we use the spatula," he adds, and Clara smiles widely. Mark sees a hopefulness in her features – he sees this with Ruby a lot, too – that he sometimes saw in his mom. It is a reminder of little things for him, that maybe, in retrospect, were actually the big things. The way Jenny's nose would wrinkle when he said something that amused her. The cadence of her voice when she told him that her heart beat for him and Everett. When she would give him a high-five after they reached the shore of Skaneateles Lake, in the early days when she slowed her speed so they could tie. Her smile from across the table when they ate breakfast together. Her smile any time she was near him at all, actually. It wasn't all bad. Mark remembers Addison saying that once. Not every second of her life was a nightmare. Especially not all the seconds spent with you.

"Should we make pancakes for Mommy, too?" Ruby asks. Mark and Addison made sure before they started last night's movie that the girls understood Addison had an appointment with their Seattle friends this morning.

"Yeah. We'll make enough so there's some for Mommy when she gets back. Now, I'll start getting the ingredients out…go grab your aprons." Mark nods appreciatively when Clara and Ruby scamper off. They have a few kid-sized aprons that alternate between hanging off a wall hook to the left of the oven, and on the rack where their dress-up clothes are stored for when the girls want to "play restaurant."

"I like that my apron has bunnies on it," Ruby says later when Mark helps her – very carefully – guide one of the pancakes off the griddle. Today Ruby selected the green apron with bunnies hopping in a field. "Because Mommy is your 'bunny,' and that means I am your 'little bunny.'"

Mark gives the spatula to Clara next (she gets a bit more freedom than her sister when it comes to transferring pancakes), but as he passes it over, he sees her peek down at the apron she is wearing, which features brightly-colored vegetables. He can tell she is pondering if that means she is his "little onion," or something to that effect.

"You're both my little bunnies," he shares.

The text message Addison sends him arrives shortly after the three of them have started eating: On my way back. Everything's okay.

Mark knows it is meant to just be about the condition of the twins, but with the girls seated beside him nudging at bits of syrup-drowned pancake with their forks, and Addison not too far from home, he recognizes that the latter part can stand separately, too.

. .
. .

---

Author's Notes/Episode Nods

I repurposed Savvy's old wrinkled couple line from Grey's 2x08…and uh, applied it to a different man (which made me feel super dirty, bye).

In 3x06, Derek accuses Nancy of "sound[ing] more and more like [Carolyn] every day."

Grey's 3x24.
Addison: "Oh, like brain surgery is so impressive."
Derek: "It is, actually."

Next chapter is the last chapter, and omg, I'm not ready to say goodbye, but it's time (I am open to revisiting this family and the world around them again though at some point, if I feel the circumstances are right). The final chapter will be mostly fluff and will have more of an epilogue-ish feel in some ways (and smut – might as well go out with a bang, and yep, pun intended), but I promise it will include some wedding flashbacks, since this chapter ended up being more of a build-up to that. Thank you so much for following along!