Addison Montgomery Shepherd's Point of View

24 hours after chapter five

"Ella." I whisper, my voice raw from the incubation tube they had removed. I stir in the hospital bed, trying desperately to fall back asleep. "Ella." I smile, almost thinking I can see her again, but I am at the end of a dark tunnel, and the world has faded away. I open my eyes and the world I am in; the real world comes into clear focus. Confusion washes over me. It was all a dream, but it was so real. I almost expected to open my eyes and be surrounded by the rich green grass, sweet flowers, and the lake near the meadow again.

"You were dreaming." Mark says. He was sleeping in the hard plastic chair next to the bed with his head resting on my mattress. He takes my hand in his and runs his fingers over the I V port that was taped to it. I don't know what time it is. How long have I been sedated? I don't like the way I feel now that the sedation is wearing off. That peaceful feeling in the meadow… it's gone.

"I don't want you here Mark." I say. I try to move but realize that I can't because my arms have been placed in arm restraints. My heart races as panic sets in and I try to pull my arms free.

"Are you okay? Does anything hurt?" Mark asks. I am not typically so standoffish with him. We have a very close relationship, even when nobody else can comfort me, Mark can. He has always been my safe spot.

"I'm fine."

"Well, you don't sound fine. Here, let me help you remove the restraints." He undoes the restraints and I move my arms as close as possible to me. Rubbing the sore spots on my wrists. I must have been thrashing around in my sleep. He goes to take my hand, and I pull away from him.

"Don't touch me." I warn.

"What is this really about Addison?" He asks, taken aback.

"I want you to leave. Leave and don't come back." I cannot explain my sudden rage towards him and then I realize it is because of the meadow, because of her. I'm here, but that longing to be there is so strong.

"You're mad at me for not allowing you to commit suicide? You can't be serious." Mark asks, assuming, but assuming correctly. What else could it be? Everything was fine between us before.

"The amount of hate I have for you right now makes me want to…" I trial off, not sure what I would do, but it wouldn't be pleasant. "You should have left me to die." I say bitterly. "I wanted to die and your insistence on repeatedly saving my life is outrageous."

"You sent me a vague text message and I couldn't get ahold of you. What did you expect me to do?" He asks. "Do you not find that a little outrageous?"

"I sent you the text message because I thought I was dying." I admit. "I should have bled out within minutes. Something must have gone wrong." I try to remember, but my memory of that night is hazy. I have done this procedure thousands of times before. Of course, I would screw it up when I needed it to succeed the most.

"Why did you do it?" He demands. "We were going to work through this Addison, you just have to have patience."

"I don't know." I try to think back to the particular thing that triggered me that night. "I just… I wanted her to stop kicking."

"If that baby dies you could go to jail Addison. Is the prison life the one that you want? Wash. Rev. Code Ann. § 9A.32.060 declares that a person is guilty of manslaughter in the first degree when he or she intentionally and unlawfully kills an unborn quick child by inflicting any injury upon the mother of such child."

"How do you even know that?"

"It came up when I was researching how to get Derek put away."

"I was supposed to die too. It's not against the law to end your own life."

"I'm not talking about this with you anymore!" Mark exclaims. I can tell by the look on his face that he is having flashbacks. I feel guilty. I should have just disappeared. I should have done this somewhere, anywhere else. Instead, he found me passed out on the bathroom floor. When I first came to I was told that I was having seizures, and my heart stopped. Did he witness that? Did he watch them operate on me to save my life? "I'm not going to help you romanticize suicide and form a better plan for next time." He throws his hands up Infront of him, growing increasingly frustrated.

"I don't want you here. Get out of my room now, or I'm calling security." The look on my face dangerous now. I could always just read my medical chart later on, but I just want to know what went wrong.

"No. You have to get off this detrimental path." He demands, his voice raised, and I flinch despite myself, like he was going to strike me. "It's not outrageous Addison. It's love, and no I'm not talking about romantic love. You are my best friend Addison. If you love someone you tell them. Through your actions, through your words. Even if you're scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it and you say it. You say it loud, and you go from there." I know he loves me, in every way possible. That was more than clear. Our relationship has evolved and changed so much throughout the years. There are so many different ways to love someone. It doesn't always have to be about sex. I don't even know in what specific way, but that confusing blinding love is still there. I shouldn't be so hard on him, but I can't help it. I know that he'd walk through hellfire for me.

"This isn't love." I say angrily, gesturing to the restraints they had me in, which are now just hanging on the bed rails. "You needed to be a hero. You wanted to play God. That's what happened here. That's what went wrong."

"I couldn't just let you die." He paces back and forth Infront of me. "You're going to be fine. The baby is still in your uterus, your stomach has been pumped of all the toxins you ingested, you've been sewn up and you didn't fucking bleed to death on my bathroom floor. All surgery is risky Addison, but in this case, I would say that me 'playing God' and getting you to the hospital worked out in your favor." His voice is loud, full of hurt, anger, and resentment.

"Surgery that I did not give consent for. I am not okay. And I don't want to be fine." I start crying. "This is just as bad as anything Derek has ever done to me. You took away my right to choose. It was my choice. My decision and you robbed me of that." The memories of the time in the Meadow flash before me like a slideshow. The overwhelming peace that I had felt there is replaced with a sense of loss.

"You don't mean that." He says, giving me a heart wrenching look of betrayal. "Do you think I like making these decisions for you? Do you think that it was fun for me? Do think it was fun for me to plan Ella's memorial all on my own when you left without a word and went crawling back to Derek? Do you think it was enjoyable for me to know you were back with Derek, to know there was nothing that I could do to keep you safe? Do you think I find it enjoyable to know that you are so damaged you'd rather be tortured than to stay in a relationship with someone who loves you, who would never hurt you and work through the hard parts? Do you think I get some kind of sick pleasure from finding you passed out drunk, overdosed, or bleeding to death on my bathroom floor? NO. I don't, but I do it anyway. I work through the hard parts anyway because you're my best friend and I love you, even when you cannot love yourself."

"If you loved me so much, you'd love me enough to let me, go." I say simply, falling back against the pillow. It's getting harder and harder to remember the good times. It's like falling further and further down a well. The light from the life before getting dimmer the further down I fall.

"I wouldn't have."

"Why?"

"I'm selfish alright? I'm flawed. A train wreck really, but with you… with you it wasn't a game. It frustrates me so much because I would never hurt you like he did. Not intentionally anyway. I couldn't live with myself if I just sat idly by and watched as you self destruct, if I didn't try and help you stop."

"Just leave. Please Mark." I beg. "There is nothing you can do."

"I'm not leaving." He insists, taking down his voice several tones. "Everyone in your life has either left you or abandoned you when things get hard. I get that. I know you're used to dealing with things on your own, but that's not working out so well for you." He observes. "I refuse to be just another person who leaves you."

"What do you want from me Mark?"

"I want you to care!" He pleads. I think back to the conversation we had a few days ago. Is this time any different than it was then? I try to listen, to pay attention to his words. I know he is not expecting a romantic relationship from me. That isn't what I was asking. I know that he's always game for a little bit of fun, spicing t hings up whenever I am. I don't have to ask because it's just always where we land. "You're my best friend." He continues, how many times has he said that recently? "I want you to be happy. I want you to be healthy. I want to see that sparkle in your eyes again. I want you to be able to get through this darkness and see yourself the way I have never stopped seeing you. You deserve a happy life Addie." Something changes. I relax a little when he uses my nickname.

"I'm scared." I admit in a whisper. "I'm sorry." I hiccup. "I don't know what's wrong with me." My anger with him slowly diminishing. "Will you hold me?" I ask vulnerably, and when he climbs up on the small bed next to me I feel all the giht leaving me.

"Okay." He says, finding a comfortable position, being careful, so careful of all the wires and tubes attached to me. I lay my head against him, and the ugly crying, the sobbing escapes. He gently rubs my back. "It will be okay." He whispers. "You're going to get through this. You're strong and beautiful. You deserve to be happy Addison. You can do this." The way I am positioned against him I know that he can feel the baby as it kicks my side. My whole body tenses up. My eyes cloud over as I try and fight the pain.

"Breathe." Mark says gently. I hadn't realized that I was holding my breath until he said something. I had put all my hopes into dying, or the baby dying. I didn't stop to consider what it would feel like to have her kicking inside of me after major abdominal surgery to put me back together. "It's only a few more weeks and this will all be over." He soothes. I relax, but tense up again every time she moves. Every time she moves it is like Derek punching me, it reminds me of the abuse that got me here in the first place. I bite down hard on my bottom lip, trying to will the baby to stop moving. It doesn't work, but it helps me feel a little bit better all the same. Mark hugs me harder, and talks me through it. Painfully I remember how happy we were the first time we felt Ella move. Things are darker now. We don't have that same lightness surrounding us.

FLASHBACK:

"Oh my god Mark! Come here quick!" I scream excitedly. I was laying on the couch, watching Judge something or other. Eating soup and crackers at a desperate attempt to soothe the sickness I was still constantly having.

"What is it? Are you okay?" Mark asked, coming in from the kitchen. I didn't have the easiest pregnancy with Ella. I quit drinking cold turkey and suffered withdraws. I stopped self harming. I stayed away from Derek. I really made an effort to get my life back on track and put the abuse I suffered at Derek's hands behind me.

"You have to feel this. It's amazing." I take his hands and place it over my swollen tummy where the baby was kicking away. "Do you feel that?" I ask, excitedly. I can feel the energy radiating off of me, it's like I'm glowing.

"She kicked!" Marks face broke out in a huge goofy smile.

"Our baby kicked." I confirm smiling up at him. "I love you so much. I already love our little family so much." I pulled him down on the couch with me, kissing him softly.

"Our happy ending." He says, pulling away, just a bit so he can speak.

"Yeah." I say confidently. "Our happy ending." I snuggle up against him, unable to stop myself from smiling every time Ella kicked, or wiggled. I realized it was because right there, in that moment, I was happy. Everything was perfect, and I allowed myself the delusion of believing that I had finally gotten my happy ending.

END FLASHBACK:

"It hurts." I whimper. "It hurts, when she moves it hurts." I am not sure if it hurts more because I just had surgery, or because she is kicking against healing bruises. It hurt before the surgery. Mark checks his watch, and then looks at me sympathetically.

"You're not due more pain medication for a couple of hours. There may be something to tide you over though. Do you want me to ask?" He asks concerned. He doesn't like to see me in pain. How is it possible that I can hide my daily abuse from the world but I can't hide this? It's uncommon knowledge but I really do not deal with pain well. He cringes. He doesn't know what I have to do to get myself through the day.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me. I need to feel this pain." I try to explain. I am so confused with all of the emotions swirling around inside of me. "It lets me know I'm alive." I know it's a bad explanation, especially considering I just tried to commit suicide. I just can't find the words to describe how numb I am. How I am unraveling and trying to do anything and everything in my power to feel again. I don't know what changed. I have a sudden feeling that with the hell I've put Mark through I should at least make an honest attempt for him.

"What can I do?" He asked.

"Just hold me." I request. His body is so warm. I close my eyes and allow my body to rest heavily against him. He wraps his arm protectively around me and within just a few minutes I have fallen asleep. The rest may not matter. Right now I'm making an effort, and that's miles away from where I was before.