Addison Montgomery Shepherd's Point of View

"I'm still in love with you. I tried not to be, and it didn't work." It takes me a moment to register what I am seeing. Mark Sloan is standing on the doorstep to my brownstone. He hands me a dozen red roses. His eyes lock with mine, and I smile, thanking him, telling him that they're beautiful. He reaches out and gently caresses my cheek, moving my auburn hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear. His eyes flood with sadness and a little 'oh' escapes his lips when he sees the black eye I had desperately tried to hide with makeup. I was in the middle of reapplying my make up when he arrived. I know that the bruise isn't covered as well as it should be, as well as it needs to be before Derek gets home. This isn't the first time Mark has seen bruises on me, but the last time we were together he told me that every time he sees a new one he feels as if his heart is being stabbed with a knife. He smiles at me warmly. Nothing surprises him anymore.

"Mark, what are you doing here? You have to go. Derek, he'll be home soon." I say, taking the roses and pressing them to my face, inhaling in their sweet scent. It's soothing. It's been a long time since I've seen something so pretty.

"I'm not leaving without you." He declares. "He won't stop until you're dead."

"Mark please…" I beg, knowing that Derek's wrath will be so much worse if he finds me at home alone with Mark. I bring my hand to my head, running my fingers through my long hair, cringing involuntarily when I touch the knot from where Derek slammed my head into the wall the night before. I had forgotten it was there. When you're so used to everything hurting one more thing is… well it's just one more thing.

"He's hurting you and it's killing me." Mark confesses. "Let me protect you. He'll never touch you again." He promises. He wasn't supposed to see the bruises. We were best friends, but we were never sexual until that night I was able to keep them hidden. Things got heated and without thinking I removed my blouse. We didn't even have sex that night. He drilled me for information and ended up in a huge fight when I said it was an accident and defended Derek. The next time he saw Derek, he punched him so hard enough that he ended up sprawled out on the floor of the hospital clinching his broken jaw. Things got better for a little while after that. He almost had me convinced that I should leave Derek and regain my independence. Derek's web of lies were stronger than Mark's promises of safety. He pulled me back in with apologies, couples counseling, and promises to change that happened for a little while before everything went back to normal but normal was never a lasting thing.

"I can't… I can't come home with you. Mark, you know why I can't." I would love to be able to run away from the hands that hurt me every night. I know I can never escape though. He does this because he loves me, because he wants me to be better than I currently am. I deserve his anger. If only I would have learned to keep my mouth shut. If only I'd come home from work on time. If only I'd remember that when folding the towels, they have to be folded and placed exactly so each time. If only I could be better at arranging the kitchen pantry correctly and cleaning the house. If only I had the energy to have the type of sex he wants nightly. He wouldn't be so angry. He wouldn't hurt me if I were better at the things he wants from me. "This isn't love Addie." I can hear the desperation, the pain in his voice as it cracks. I know he's trying to keep his composure. "Love shouldn't hurt, not like this." He gestures to my arms. I am wearing a long sleeve top, but he knows that underneath the fabric are bruises and evidence of self-harm. He is smart enough to realize that most people do not wear long sleeves during a record-breaking heat wave without a reason. My co-workers think I am weird for wearing a long sleeve top under my scrubs year-round. I've told them that I am anemic and frequently cold. They left me alone after a couple weeks of teasing. "You don't deserve to be hurt Addison."

My eyes fill with tears that I am unable to control. Quickly I look down at the ground. "I deserve that and so much more." I mumble. I step outside of the door and sink down onto the ground. I rest my head on my knees, pulling myself into as small of a position as possible. He sits down beside me and looks around at the beautiful land and marvelous house that Derek and I had just finished building. I thought I was getting my happily ever after. Thing about happy ever after's though is that they don't exist. Not like they do in the fairytales anyway.

"What do you want from me Mark? Sex? Money?" I ask, knowing that things will never be the same as they were between us. Seeing the bruises changed things. I was so stupid, careless. I wasn't thinking. He looks at me differently now like some kind of damsel in distress. I hate it.

"I just want you to be happy. I want you to be safe. I want you to be able to sleep through the night without worrying if he is going to kill you in your sleep. I want you to wake up and know that you're safe. I want you to do the things that you want to do. To not have to spend every second of your life living in fear." He says, and I can tell he is being honest. Right now, reestablishing their past relationship is the last thing on both of our minds. He claims he is still in love with me, but love is something gentle, fragile. It can't be forced. It would either happen or it wouldn't. If he is willing to sacrifice that, why do I feel so conflicted. Could it be true that he just wants to make sure I'm safe? That I'm not drinking or self-harming or getting abused? It's true that there are different ways to love someone.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I really am fine Mark." I insist. "I don't need rescuing."

"You just keep telling yourself that." He says and smirks a little bit. It's not funny, but the air is so heavy.

"I have this under control."

"If you have control take control. Get your purse. Let's get you somewhere safe." He locks eyes with me again, searching for understanding, challenging me.

"Okay." I whisper. I don't recognize my own voice. It sounds like it is coming from someone else as I stand up and numbly walk inside. I try to appear braver than I feel. My heart is racing. My world is crumbling down around me, again. This isn't the first time that I've left him. I take my purse and walk back outside, locking the door behind me. Being with Derek is hell, but being without him is equally as terrifying.

"Okay. Let's get you out of here before he gets home." He says, opening the door to his car, and helping me inside. It's a small victory. It's nothing more than baby steps towards regaining my freedom. Baby steps towards reestablishing my self-worth and confidence. Baby steps in helping me take this train-wreck that I call a life and becoming stronger than I've ever been before.

My anxiety grows with each passing mile. Doubt creeping in. I don't know what compelled me to get into his vehicle. I should have told him no. I should have stayed at home, pretended everything was fine. He would have left, eventually, right? He has in the past.

"Mark please turn around. You have to take me home." I request. "This was just a big misunderstanding. I'm not being abused. That's a ridiculous assumption." I try to explain. He ignores me and continues driving. I look at the clock on the radio. "Mark, I have to go back. Derek's home. He's going to be out of his mind. Please..." I am growing more frantic with each passing minute.

"If you're not being abused, why are you so worried about what Derek thinks?" Mark challenges.

"He'll be worried about me." I know it's not the truth. It's not that he is worried about me not being there. He is worried about where I am and what I might be saying to tarnish his reputation. He acts like it is something that I would parade on about instead of something of deep shame that I've been trying to hide for the duration of our marriage. I never told anybody. Mark knows but... he's Mark. "Please..." I request again. When Derek finds out where I've been he's... I don't even want to think about what he'll do. I know it's not going to be pretty though.

"He'll hurt you. You know I can't take you back Addison."

"This was a mistake."

"If you're uncomfortable staying with me we can get you an extended stay hotel, somewhere with a doorman to keep Derek from harassing you."

"I just want to go back home." I don't want to cry, I don't want to upset him more than he already is, but I am. "Please. I want to go home."

"You didn't bring any clothing with you; do you want to stop and pick up some things on our way to the house?" He asks. "We can go wherever you'd like." He says, an attempt to distract me.

"No."

"Addison, you're going to need things. You know I'm more than willing to share, but you're so petite. My clothes aren't going to fit you in anyway that's comfortable." I frown at him when he says this. I don't think I have ever been called 'petite' before. I am five foot ten inches tall. There was a time when I was strong. Derek certainly doesn't think of me as petite.

"I'm okay. Just stop. Let me out. I'll take a taxi home."

"Addison No." He says, and when I try to get out anyway, despite the car still being in motion he quickly presses a button enabling the child's locks on the doors and the windows before I can actually get either opened. There is a look of fear in his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?" He asks me. "Do you know what happens to a person when they are ejected from a moving vehicle?" He pulls over at the next safe location. I can feel myself spiraling, all good sense of reasoning leaving me. I try kicking out the windshield with my bare feet. It surprises me to see that my feet are bare. When had I taken off my shoes? I notice a pair of Derek's old flip flops on the floorboard. I don't remember putting them on. He doesn't move to stop me as I punch the window, not my finest moment. The window bows but doesn't break. He is talking to me gently, but this doesn't work and makes me even more enraged. Thank God I am not actually being kidnapped. I'd be a lost cause. I hit him. I try to climb over him to disengage the child locks, he just moves to cover them instead, letting me hit him over and over again. All while crying and screaming about wanting to go home. I need to go home. Derek may not be home yet. He could have had a last-minute surgery and there is the chance that he will never find out. There is a possibility that this could all be okay.

"Mark, I want to go home. Take me home RIGHT NOW!" I explode. I am crying so hard that the tears, screaming, and effort of trying to kick out the windows, the effort to climb over him too much. I am having a hard time breathing.

"Addison STOP before you hurt yourself." Mark demands, grabbing me, raising his voice for the first time since we've been together this evening. Something I cannot explain takes over me. I freeze at his raised tone. I look at him, confusion setting in. I stay perfectly still and silent until he lets me go. When he does, I grab the trash can on the floorboard next to Derek's flip flops and throw up several times, dry sobbing, still trying to breathe normally again.

"Shh... you're okay." He says, I realize that he is rubbing my back. "That's better. You're going to be okay Addison." He says, when the vomiting has subsided, and my breathing has slowed. "I know this is scary, but I'm going to need you to calm down. We're going to find a store and get you some things to get you through the next few days. You're not going to do anything crazy when we're in this store." He says the last part in a warning tone. I feel my body stiffening up again. I sit up and look at the window. I see that he has had the sense to pull over in a secluded area. I realize that we're outside the city. There are trees surrounding us. We're on one of the many winding roads on the outskirts of Seattle, before you get to the suburban cities. "I'm not going to hurt you Addison. Everything's going to be okay."

"Where are we?" I ask, after a long while of sitting in silence. He hands me a soda in a bottle, and I take a sip, trying to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth.

"This may surprise you, but I grew up Addison." He says, with a little smirk at me. "I gave up the apartment, I bought a house in the suburbs. I commute to work each day. It really is a whole difference existence out here. It's so much less busy, less stressful than the inner city." I don't know what to say to this, so I sink back against the seat of the car, looking out the window at the dark trees. I try to open the door again, it's still locked. I find out that the windows are still locked as well.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I freaked out. I know you're just trying to help." I say, trying to pull my protective shield that I wear during the day at work back down. Trying not to be so vulnerable, to numb myself, especially since I just freaked out and made myself look like a psychopath. If Derek were here, I'd never hear the end of this, but it's not Derek, it's Mark.

"Don't be sorry Addison." He says, but he looks so sad, so scared. I don't know if I am imagining it, or if he really looks like he is wondering what he has gotten himself into. The last time it wasn't this bad.

"I don't have any money." I say. "If I am disappearing, I cannot use my bank accounts, or my credit cards. He has an app on his phone that alerts him with each purchase made. He'll be able to find me."

"You don't have to worry about that Addison. I'll take care of you. We'll get you what you need and when we get to the house you can change your passwords and call the bank so that he no longer has access. The last thing you want is him spending all of your money or freezing you out of your accounts."

"I guess we could go to like Walmart or something."

"Walmart?" Mark asks, raising his eyebrows at me suspiciously. "Addison, I know I said we could go anywhere you want but seriously? Have you ever even stepped foot inside a Walmart?"

"Do you have a problem with Walmart?" I ask him cynically. "Maybe I need to change my outlook on things a little, start living the simple life."

"Fine." He finally agrees. He messes with his phone for a few minutes typing Walmart Super-center into the GPS, and fixing the maps so it can give us directions to the store. "Are you sure this is where you want to do your shopping?" He asks, and I look up at the illuminated blue and yellow sign.

"Yeah, just give me a minute okay?" I ask him. I open my purse and take out make up removing wipes. I completely messed up the make up by crying. I tell him to look away from me, he does. I remove the old make up, and then carefully re-apply from the make up I always keep in my purse. This application is a lot better, not halted half way through. I sigh, looking at the final result. I guess it's fine. "I look like a train wreck but at least I'll fit in I guess..." He actually laughs at this.

"What?"

"You're wearing Gucci." He points out.

"And?"

"Your outfit probably cost more than everything in this store combined."

"Hardly."

"You could get an entire wardrobe for just the price of your top."

"Are we going to do this or not?" I ask him, I am suddenly so tired, and I am starting to feel overwhelmed. He studies me for a moment, then deciding he trusts me disengages the child locks. I put on the flip flops and get out of the car, leaving my purse inside. Its habit more than anything. Derek makes me leave my bag in the car so I cannot attempt to leave him. Mark locks the car without noticing and we walk up to the store together.

I turn around to see where Mark had gone. I forgot to grab a shopping buggy. He catches up to me, pushing the cart he had gotten and then we make our way through the aisles of the store. It's too loud, too bright. There is music playing over the loudspeakers. I stop suddenly as a woman rushes past me, bumping into me quickly apologizing. She is chasing her two small children, screaming at them to behave. I turn and watch as they run away from her shrieking with laughter. One of them saying something about "lets go see the toys!" I realize that the woman has a baby in a carrier attached to her. I don't know why this is bothering me so much. It's not like I've been locked away in a storage shed or something like a story in one of those television crime shows. I was allowed to leave the house daily. I did the shopping and went to work every day. We end up on the hygiene isle. I grab the things that Derek normally has me buy and tosses them into the cart. Mark takes my hand, and I look up at him.

"Are you buying this for you, or are you buying this for Derek?" He asks gently. I look at the scent I've selected. Lavender. It's Derek's favorite, the only scent I'm allowed to have.

"Does it matter if it gets us out of here?" I need easy, simple. All of the different options are overwhelming. We spend a minute and I look at the different colored bottles, with various writing on them. I stand frozen in front of the soaps.

"Try this." Mark says, handing me a bottle of body wash. "Or would you prefer bar soap?" He asks, and I shrug, smelling the soap in the bottle. It's alright. "It's not the boushie kind you buy at home, but it's good for sensitive skin, and they have matching shampoo and conditioner, so you don't get nauseated by the mixing scents." I nod, and add the items he listed to the cart, putting the others back, making sure to place them just so on the shelf. He grabs a detangling hairbrush of the type that I use and throws it in the cart, as well as a pack of hair-ties. On the next aisle he tosses an electric toothbrush and it into the cart.

"Seriously Mark? No. That's like $100. I'll just use this." I say, showing him a manual toothbrush that costs about a dollar instead.

"That won't get your teeth clean. You had to have five teeth replaced with implants after the accident. $100 is nothing compared to the amount of money you paid for those implants when the insurance deemed it cosmetic and wouldn't cover it. You need a good toothbrush to keep the dental implants from failing." I frown when he says this, remembering the car accident. I don't want to remember the car accident. I have spent this entire last year with Derek actively forcing myself to not think about it.

"It only cost so much because you flew in the best oral surgeon in the country." I protest. He throws the toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant, and face scrub that he knows I like in the cart without even bothering to ask.

"Yes, well it was worth it. You had already been through so much."

"I don't want to talk about that." I say. We make our way to the clothing. I randomly throw several things into the cart, not even bothering to look at what I'm grabbing. "What are you doing?" I ask him, I had turned to put something else in the cart, just to see him putting the items back, and grabbing identical items in smaller sizes.

"You're not watching what you're grabbing. Do you even know what size you are right now?"

"Um."

"Baby… you could wrap this around your entire body twice, maybe more." He says, holding up the dress I had just put in the buggy. I look at the size. 4xl. "I can help you look for something."

"I just want to leave. If you're going to tell me what to get why don't you just shop? I could have waited in the car." I demand. He's right, there is no way I could have fit into that dress, but I don't want to admit it. He grabs socks, undergarments, and pajamas. None of the clothes here looks like anything I would have worn previously, but he chooses a few cardigans, soft pants, tops, and cami's for layering. Jeans are trickier. He takes one of the smallest adult sizes they have a hold them up to me. They're too short so he goes up a size and chooses a belt. Shoes are a whole other nightmare. He grabs several different pairs in my size.

"How long do you think I am going to be staying with you?" I ask, the buggy is filled to the top.

"I don't know, but it might take the bank time to settle your dispute with Derek, and I am not off work again for a few more days. We can have a proper shopping spree then if you'd like to." I am a little humored by the fact that he thinks I need this much stuff for a few days.

We walk to the grocery section of the store. He grabs his weekly shopping, putting it in the child seat portion of the shopping buggy and then on the alcohol isle two cases of beer. Something catches my eye and I take it from the shelf, holding it up to him.

"Get whatever you want." He says. "Heaven knows we need it." I take two boxes of cheap wine and put them in the cart. He doesn't know the half of it. I wish I could tell him everything. We walk to the check out and pay. I help him load the bags into the trunk of his car. I don't know when am I really that out of it? But he has also grabbed a quilt, matching pillow cases pillows and sheets.

"It's not much, but it's home." Mark says, with a little smile as we pull into his garage. It's on a corner lot, secluded from the rest of the neighborhood. "Three bedroom, two baths, a decent sized fenced in back yard. Maybe I'll get a dog." He pounders. We had always discussed a house like this when talked about having children. We didn't want to raise them in the busy cities of Manhattan or Seattle.

"It's beautiful Mark."

He shows me inside and tells me to relax while he brings all of the bags in, sitting my things on the couch and starts putting the groceries away in the kitchen.

"Are you hungry? You look hungry. I could fix you something."

"I just want to shower and sleep?"

"If you go soak, I'll start a load of laundry so we can wash these things before you wear them."

"That's not really necessary Mark. It'll be fine for one night. I'll do the washing tomorrow." I say, trying to be uncomplicated. He shows me where the guest bedroom is, and I put the new bedding on the exposed mattress and bring the clothing into the bedroom. I sit down on the bed and begin pulling off the tags and stickers. I realize that short sleeved pajamas were boughten.

"I need to see how bad this is." He says, leaning against the door.

"What?"

"I don't want you to have to try and hide things or feel self-cautious around me. You need to get it over with. Show me how badly you're hurt so we can monitor and make sure nothing's getting worse. Do you trust me?" He asks.

"Yeah." This isn't anything we haven't done before, but it gets worse and worse each time.

"Okay." He goes to his computer and prints off a report bringing it back to me with a pen. It's one of the reports like you'd fill out at the hospital when a patient presents with multiple injuries. I don't want him to see me though. I don't know what makes me do it, maybe it is just routine. We do this every time I come back to him. I remove my top, and my flowing skirt, laying them on the bed. I go into the attached bathroom and wash my face removing the makeup.

"Addison…" He breathes, shocked. "He's escalating, we need to take you to a hospital, It doesn't have to be our hospital, but you need to be seen. You could have internal damage." He carefully fills out the report and takes pictures of each injury. I don't know what he does with these files. Maybe he turns them over to the police or maybe he's keeping them filed away for if I ever go to court against Derek. I don't ask because I don't really care.

"No. I'm fine. It will heal, it always does. It will just take time." When he is finished, I pull on a pair of the pajamas we bought, I am too exhausted to shower. I move the clothing to the chair across from the bed and lay down, pull the quilt over me, and fall into a restless slumber.