Mark's Point of View:

"Oh Addison." I whisper. I stand for a minute looking at the scene before me. Addison is all but passed out on the bathroom floor. It's evident that she's been drinking. The whole bathroom smells of vomit, though there is somehow no vomit on her. One of the boxes of Walmart wine is empty tipped over on the counter. There is a bottle of tequila on the floor next to her. I try to reason with myself that this isn't a completely unnatural thing to find. She's been through a lot, and she does tend to drink a lot for the first several weeks she is back. This just seems excessive though. I walk over to help her back into bed when I realize something is off. There is a pocketknife on the ground with blood on it. I kneel down next to her, looking closer and realize that her pajama bottoms are position in just a way that I can see four angry gashes on her hip bone. My heart sinks when I realize we're doing this again. She had completely stopped self-harming the last time she was here. I see her everyday at work and I never knew she had started again. She is the master of keeping things hidden. It will take a while to get back into our routine. Addictions just don't stop automatically because you change someone's environment. It takes work.

"Addison can you hear me?" I ask. I check her pulse and when I am satisfied that she is indeed alive and not bleeding too much from the cuts I gently shake her.

"I'm fine." She mumbles, stirring a little on the floor.

"Come on, lets get you to bed. You're hurting." I say, scooping her up into my arms. She's too weak to object and rests her head on my shoulder. I carry her into the spare bedroom and lay her down on the bed. "You need me." I tease her lightly.

"I don't need you." She objects waking up fully, but she doesn't move. I know her head must be spinning from all of the alcohol surging through her bloodstream. I know she can't be trusted to have the best judgement when she's drunk. I lay her on her uninjured side in the bed, grab my medical bag, and begin to clean the lacerations on her hip.

"I'm sorry, this is going to hurt a little bit." I don't have anything to numb the pain, and the area around the cuts is already bruised from a previous injury. She looks up at me and has the audacity to roll her eyes. She laughs weakly as I sanitize the cuts, killing as many of the germs as possible. She can't hide the pain in her expression as I start stitching her skin back together. She is quite for a long time. I think maybe the pain has left her speechless, but she smiles again.

"You're really sexy when you're doing sutures…" Her words are slurring. I chuckle a little, finishing the last stitch and taping on a sterile dressing before putting my tools away and sitting next to her. "You get this look on your face and…" sits up, leaning against me, gently kissing my lips. I can taste the sweet alcohol on her breath, but years of muscle memory takes over and I kiss her back. It's not like I am just some random person getting her out of a bad situation. We had a relationship before she married Derek, and our relationship continued every single time she was able to leave him. The kisses become slower, deeper, and more passionate. Maybe it's because we've always been comfortable together. Our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, just right when we embrace. Maybe it's because she's broken and hurting and I just want to do anything I can to make her pain go away, even for a second, just one precious second before better judgement kicks in and you know that there is nothing to justify what you're doing. The moment has passed. I catch a glimpse of us in the full-sized mirror, her bruises look particularly nasty in the bedrooms lighting. I gently move away from her. She objects and moves to me again, but I take her hands in my own, gently keeping her at arm's length.

"I'm so sorry Red." I say, as the horrible, guilt-ridden realization kicks in. "We can't do this. Not right now, not like this, not when you're intoxicated and injured." This. I'd love nothing more than to be doing this with her, but the circumstances are all wrong. She's too hurt. It's probably some sort of a miracle that she hasn't succumb to alcohol poisoning yet. I should have been here today. I should have taken off of work and stayed home with her. This is too much. I don't know what I had done. We've walked this path so many times before. I was just honoring her request. She told me to go to work. I want to believe that she is going to be ok. I want to believe that she is speaking the truth when she says that she is competent to care for herself. This just isn't the reality I'm living in right now. Other times she's come back it's been different. She was never this way… not this bad. This has to be something new.

"Mark I'm fine." She stammered. "Being bruised has never stopped us before." She says, and she's right, to a point, but it just feels wrong now, dirty, like I'd be taking advantage. She falls silent when I don't respond. She looks dismayed, and unsure of herself all over again. She is different this time. Derek has changed her, but I haven't exactly figured out how. How many times had she said she was fine over the years when truly she was falling apart at the seams? Too many to count. She puts on a brave face, she's perfect at hiding her horrible reality, but that doesn't make her fine.

"Shh." I press my finger to her lips. "You don't know what you're saying." I say, my voice blunter than I would have liked. "We can do whatever you want, when you're sober, and can think rationally again." In remorse I lay down on the bed beside her, pulling her closer to me. She snuggles her body against mine. I stroke her hair in just the way that I know always makes her sleepy. "You need rest."

"No." She says, actually laughing. "I can't…rest I mean. I have a problem." Her voice is quiet as the words fall from her lips before she can stop them.

"Oh yeah? What is that?" I ask her gently, thinking it is going to be something silly. I try and keep my tone light. I can see several potential problems she has. A drinking problem. A self-harm problem. A being married to an abusive asshole problem. Just to name a few. I decide not to say anything. She buries her face into my chest and takes a deep breath. Her eyes are closed, and she is breathing in deeply. I have a feeling she's stalling. She goes suddenly serious.

"I'm 25 weeks pregnant." She confesses and then "I'd rather be dead than to have his baby growing inside of me." Even in her intoxicated state I can tell how truly depressed she is and how miserable is making her to confess this. My blood runs cold. I'm holding her in my arms. I saw her naked yesterday when we documented the injuries. I can't have heard her properly. I realize that we had spooned together, and my hand is resting on her abdomen. She doesn't look, or feel pregnant, especially not that pregnant. Before I can say anything, before I can ask questions my mind flashes back to another time, another unwanted pregnancy.

*FLASHBACK*

"Addison, I know you think that you're the only person who should have an opinion because it's your body your choice but please think about how I feel too. We could be a family, a real family." I plead, my throat raw from the back and forth arguing.

"I can't do this Mark." She said as she walked around the bedroom and bathroom carelessly throwing some clothes and other personal items into her ridiculously expensive overnight bag.

"You can. We raise the baby together."

"You don't want to raise a family, Mark. You want to trump Derek. You want to win. You want me and our child as a trophy you can rub in Derek's face."

"Addison…" I think on her words a moment. She always had romanticized Derek over me. It didn't matter how horribly he treats her; she always runs back to him. She has never realized that all I have ever done is love her and protect her. I don't know how much more I can take of this. I am tired of being her sloppy seconds when I deserve to be her firsts.

"Please just forget I ever said anything."

"Forget? Addison that's my baby in there! Our baby! How could I forget that you are pregnant with our child, and you want to abort her?" My voice cracks and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. She looks at me, almost pitying. It's probably meant to be sympathy if it is it's missing the mark.

"Maybe forget isn't the best choice of words." She admits.

"You're damn right it isn't. I want us to have a chance. Addison, I want to make this work. It's about more than just us now."

"Mark I…"

"Did you even want a baby?" I explode, my grief turning into anger.

"I want a baby. Mark. I want a baby you know I do."

"No." I say trying my hardest not to loose control. "I am not talking about A baby. I'm talking about this baby, our baby, with me?" Addison looks down ashamed. She is unable to answer. We had never even considered a pregnancy. She was on birth control. As horrible as their relationship is she had always wanted Derek. She wants to have a baby with Derek. She's not ready to move on. I watch as her hands move subcautiously to her tiny baby bump. Her face goes green.

"When did I become this much of a screw up?" She asks. "No matter what I do someone is going to get hurt."

"You don't have to go back to him Addison. Stay, live with me, raise the baby with me."

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"That's just great Addison." It's not fair, but I use the tone of disappointment with her, because I know it will make her feel bad, like she's being scolded. I know it's not right to manipulate her, but it works. She starts crying.

"You're right. We'll make it work somehow." She says, giving in. I know it is out of guilt more than anything else. "I just… I need some time, Mark." Some time for what I wonder. Can she see how much this has hurt me? Does she know how desperately I want this baby she's carrying? Did she know how insanely proud it made me to buy that insane Yankees onesie, and the calendar with the baby's due date marked with a red sharpie heart? She looks miserable, like she is feeling all of the guilt her choice would bring. Good. She deserves that.

"Some time." I say. My tone calmer now, a little more understanding. "Oaky."

"Okay." She whispers back. I pull her into my embrace and sink down onto the bed with her, holding her tightly as tears come and sobs overcome her body.

*END FLASHBACK*

"Do you think things would have been differently if Ella had survived?" I ask her gently. "We were going to make a go of it. We were going to be a family."

"I don't know. I don't want to talk this." She starts, I notice that she is pressing her fingernails into her wrist, hard. "I should have died with her." She whispers.

"No baby. You survived the accident for a reason." I say adamantly. Addison catches her breath holding back the tears. I know that our minds have synced, and she is thinking about the night our lives changed forever. Addison was six months pregnant. She was driving and a distracted driver swerved from the opposite lane. She tried to avoid the collision, but the drivers side still made impact. When the cars collided, she was slammed against the seatbelt and into the steering wheel. She told me that as soon as the cars hit, she felt a ripping sensation in her abdomen, and pain beyond anything she could ever imagine. She knew even before the bleeding started that the accident had caused a placental abruption. Her diagnosis was confirmed when she felt a gush of blood and fluid as her water broke. There was helplessness, and grief before the second car hit, and she passed out. She didn't take the loss well. She was in a coma for two weeks, and when she woke up, knowing the baby was gone she was shattered. I think that the guilt of being alive and knowing she couldn't do anything to protect Ella is what drove her back to Derek. It's just an assumption, but It feels like she thinks she deserves punishment.

"Maybe." She whispers. "Things were going to be different that time." She says finally.

"They were." I make my voice soothing. "You would have been happier. We would have been a family we'd have our beautiful little daughter. You'd have never gone back to Derek and his abuse. I could have saved you." I whisper the last part. I didn't mean to say it, but there it is. Word vomit.

"I can't be saved."

I didn't realize how having her back here would be so hard for me. She's laying here, and I can feel her breathing. I know that she's okay, but I keep seeing her laying in that hospital bed hooked up to life support in a medically induced coma. The doctors were worried that waking her would cause too much strain on her body as it recovered from the life sustaining surgeries that had been done, including an emergency cesarian section to remove our lifeless baby from her body. They were concerned that her heart wasn't strong enough to handle the physical pain plus the grief of loosing our daughter. They were certain if she knew she would code, and this time they wouldn't have been able to revive her.

I wasn't sure what to do when they wrapped the baby and gave her to me. One of the nurses brought in a Moses basket type of bed, and a blue box which was called a "cuddle cot". They plugged it in and instructed me how to use it. The cuddle cot keeps babies who have passed away cool so their bodies do not break down as quickly and grieving parents can spend time with them, I wish that Addison could have seen her. She was perfect. Sometime between the emergency c-section and the other surgeries Addison eventually needed I was able to get a picture of her and Ella. I laid the tiny infant next to her. In this image, if it wasn't for all of the medical tubes Addison was hooked to, they really could have just been sleeping. If only things had been different. She keeps a miniature version of this picture, and a picture of Ella's face taken by Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep tucked away in a heart shaped locket she always wears around her neck. I held Ella for three days. I talked to her and sang to her and then it was time for her to go, and she was gone, and I'm supposed to move on like she was never there at all. Derek doesn't know about any of this. He just assumed that his adulterous whore of a wife stayed with me after he caught us together. He doesn't care enough to call and check on her, or to find out that her entire life had shattered around her. She was hesitant at first, but she wanted Ella. She loved Ella so much.

"It's only been two years since the accident Addison." I say carefully. "It takes time." As much as I hate to admit it, I had to have extensive therapy after the baby was lost and Addison was nearly killed in the car accident. It's a privilege, and that privilege isn't something that Addison was afforded at least not to the level that I had been. We couldn't face each other. We were both so lost in our own grief. The moment her bruises healed she returned to Derek. She took a job at the hospital and moved to Seattle. She buried her grief and Ella's memory in a place that she could pretend Ella never existed.

"This baby isn't Ella Mark. I don't want this baby. I wanted Ella. I wanted our baby." She says, her eyes full of hatred. It scares me to see her like this. She would have never even considered drinking or self-harming when she was pregnant with Ella. It's just a testament to the deep depression she must be in.

"I know you don't." I say, simply. "Why didn't you tell me about this before? Like last night."

"Would you have guessed."

"No."

"Exactly. I needed to do some drinking. I know you wouldn't have allowed me to do that if you knew about this thing inside of me." I feel the baby move against my hand. I know she wasn't lying, she's not the type to lie about something like that, but it suddenly strikes me just how real, how pressing this situation is. "Do you have a plan?" I ask her, I want to add other than drinking yourself to death, but I don't. It's too mean and I have tact… sometimes. I don't know how she is so calm, if I were her, I would be absolutely losing my mind right now. Maybe it is the alcohol, but it kills me that she is so calm about telling me about this baby, but when it was our baby, she was on the verge of mental collapse. Still, she shouldn't be forced to carry her abuser's baby to term against her will. It's just wrong on so many levels. It makes me even more angry with him. It's like Derek wanted to continue to violate her over and over again. Until that baby is born, she will never be free of him, every time it moves, she is going to be reminded of the man who put it there.

"It's too late for an abortion." She says dully. "Derek… he didn't know I was pregnant, but he always made sure I couldn't sneak away. Especially when he thought I may have conceived."

"So, he knows about the baby?"

"No."

"I'm confused. You just said…"

"He tracks my menstruation. He forced me to take a pregnancy test. I pretended to pee on the stick but really just poured water on it so that it would read a negative result. The hope was I would be able to get away, be able to get the abortion, but he prevented that and now it's too late."

"Jesus Christ Addison. What were you going to do when the baby comes?" I ask, outraged. "Surely you would have eventually told him or… something? Surely, he would have figured it out. Since you weren't able to get the abortion? You don't want him to know you're pregnant? What the hell would you have done when you go into labor? He probably would have killed you for lying to him all this time." She looks away from me and I know in that one chilling moment that she had never planned on giving birth to this child. I can feel her crying. I shouldn't have raised my voice with her.

"I don't know." She mumbles.

"I'm sorry. Addison I'm sorry. It's going to be okay. We'll figure out what to do together." I say, stroking her beautiful red hair back and out of her face.

"You will?" She asks, timidly.

"Yeah." I confirm. "You should know after all these years I'll always be here for you." She nods, and unable to stop the exhaustion she falls asleep in my arms.