Addison Montgomery Shepherd's Point of View:
"I want to put her up for adoption." I tell Mark when he returns from surgery. I go over the plan I had told Arizona and he listens carefully. "It's the best thing for her. I cannot do that without Derek's consent, unless someone else claims paternity."
"I see how that would be a problem." He says, considering all that I've said. "So, because Derek knows we were sleeping together you want me to sign."
"We'd put her up for adoption as soon as she's born, you wouldn't have to parent or anything like that. You don't even have to see her if you don't want to. The nurses will take her." Normally the biological parents are given some time with the baby before the adoptive parents take custody. I don't want that time. I don't want to doubt my decision to let her go.
"I'll sign." Mark says, after a long pause. He's watching the fetal monitor Arizona had insisted I stay attached to. "You're right. She's not safe with him and judging on how the last week has gone she's not really safe with you either."
"I'd be a terrible mother." I agree.
"Addison that's not fair." Mark objects. "You'd be a fantastic mother to a baby who wasn't the direct evidence of the abuse that you've gone through."
"All the same. This is the baby that I have."
"I think wanting to put her up for adoption makes you brave. You want her to have a better life, you know that she had nothing to do with being here."
"Maybe." I say, but I am getting so tired. The steady beeping of the machines attached to me and the general buzz of a busy labor and delivery ward lulling me into a sense of calmness. I had refused all sleep medications and made sure that Mark stays with me just incase I do fall asleep. "Maybe, but I'm still afraid." I whisper. My eyes are growing heavy though. He climbs up on the bed next to me and gently strokes my hair back as I scoot into his warmth. He nods when I say that I am afraid but doesn't say anything else. I wonder if it is because he doesn't know what to say. Maybe it is because he doesn't have the words of wisdom and comfort that I need. Maybe he's blinded by his own fear. Not for the life of this unborn baby, but for my life. The comfort from him stroking my hair and his warmth are too much, and I finally fall into a restless sleep.
*SOMETIME LATER THAT NIGHT*
I awake in a panic. Someone is sitting on my hips, hands around my neck pushing down hard against my windpipe. I can't talk, I can't breathe as I gasp for air, trying frantically to call out for help. When I open my eyes, I see the luscious ember locks of Derek's hair. I can smell his shampoo. My hands move automatically to his, clawing his skin, trying desperately to push him off of me but I don't have the strength. My eyes search the room desperately for Mark, but he is no where to be seen. I try to find the nurse call button, but it is also missing.
"You're pregnant?" Derek murmurs questioningly. He looks from me to the screen where he can see the baby's heartbeat, and movements reflected in the peaks and valleys on the paper everytime the baby moves. He lets go of my neck and runs his hands down my chest, cupping my breasts in his hands, and along my flat stomach. I move uncomfortably at his touch. I know that he knows I am pregnant. He is just waiting for my response.
"Derek I…" I don't know how to respond actually. It is a no-win situation, especially with the fetal monitor recording every second of this baby's life right next to me.
"How far along are you?" He asks gently. He had removed my heartrate monitor before I had woken up. My increased heartrate and signs of stress not apparent to the doctors and nurses just down the hall. He moves and yanks me into a sitting position. I begin to cry. I hate how weak I am when I am around him. I hate how much power he has over me. Being weak, showing tears has become a survival strategy. He doesn't hurt me as bad when I am not being defiant.
"Derek please stop!" I beg. My head is beginning to pound. I feel like I am going to be sick.
"How Far?!" He demands again. I try to escape from his grasp, and he adjusts his grip, squeezing my arms even tighter.
"Derek please!" I try to move away from him, and he lets me, just enough to get caught up in the IV wires that he had graciously left in my arm I fall to the ground, hitting hard. I sit stunned for a second, but as he moves towards me, I get up quickly, yanking the IV out of my arm and move as quickly as I can backwards away from him, towards the corner of the room.
"I don't care how far along you are. You have to get rid of it." He walks over and kneels down beside me, gently cupping my face in his hand, my entire body tenses up when he touches me.
"Don't you think I've tried?" I whisper miserably, but that only makes him angrier. I hate this "Gentle" Impose fear thing that he does when we're in public. To anyone listening outside the doorway this would almost sound like a reasonable conversation… almost. No raised voices, but all the same I know the threats that hide under his sugar-coated tone.
"You tried to abort my child?" His voice raises a little now. He is a master at turning my words around so that everything and anything Is my fault. He never takes any fault of his own. He doesn't want this child either, but how dare I say that I don't want it.
"I tried killing myself twice. Obviously, I can't even get that right. I didn't even know I was pregnant until last week. You know my stance on abortion. I couldn't abort her at twenty-four weeks Derek. I just couldn't." I mumble. I thought this would anger him more, but he just seems to be taken aback.
"You're a double board-certifie N. A world class neonatal surgeon with board certifications in obstetrics, gynecology, maternal fetal medicine, AND genetics. It is impossible for you to not know that you're pregnant! How could you be so stupid?" Anger overtakes him, but his voice remains at a reasonable tone. He knows that he has to keep his voice low to not raise the suspicions of the nurses. I am a rambling mess when I speak again.
"I lost weight. I thought I was just sick due to stress. My workload has been crazy." I say, trying to appease him. "The baby's placenta is in the anterior position; I couldn't even feel her moving until recently."
"You are SO SELFISH." He spits at me. "You scream about your body your choice, and a woman's right to choose, but what about our baby daughter? What about her body her choice? Surely, she would want to live?" I bite my tongue hard I can taste blood in my mouth. He didn't think about me, or our child. He never thinks about anyone but himself.
"I didn't tell you because she's not your baby. She's Mark's. The night you caught us together. He got me pregnant." The math doesn't quite line up, but Derek never was one to pay attention to stuff like that. I look up at him as anger flashes in his eyes. He clinches his hands into a fist, and I flinch, preparing for him to hit me, but nothing happens. He must have heard the footsteps before I did.
"I can't even deal with you right now." He hisses. The doorknob turns and he grabs me, helping me up and back into bed. The nurse walks in as he is helping me.
"What's going on here?" She asks, looking from Derek to my tearstained face. I scoot back on the bed, and Derek put his arm on me in a manner that to anyone else would look loving. I know it to be a warning though. "You're supposed to be on strict bedrest Dr. Montgomery Shepherd."
"I had to go to the bathroom, I got caught up in the wires and I tripped." I say simply, I wipe the tears away. The nurse looks at me doubtfully, looking at the unattached monitors. "Ya'll put me in the smallest room humanly possible, there isn't room in the bathroom for all of these machines and the wires are no long enough to reach."
"Of course not, I'm sorry." The nurse re-attaches my I V and Derek makes himself busy doing things a properly worried spouse would do like fluffing pillows and making sure I am comfortable. He gives me the gentlest of kisses on the forehead. "I'll have someone come in and check the baby, just to make sure nothing happened to her when you fell." She uses the portable machine to listen for the baby's heartbeat. It's strong. She hooks me back up to the fetal monitor. I could have screamed. I could have yelled and cried out at any point for help. I know better than that though. I know better than to give Derek even the slightest hint that I am displeased with his actions while in the presence of other people. I have been brainwashed, trained to respond like the perfect little Stepford wife. Loving, adoring even.
"I'm so sorry I'm going to be sick." I say suddenly. The nurse rushes to get a kidney basin to catch the vomit in, but she's too late. My stomach convulses and I vomit several times. The first wave covering both Derek and I in vomit. He was too close to me and had no choice but to comfort me, upholding his image of the perfect husband.
"I'm sorry. Oh God, Derek I'm so sorry." I repeat over and over again. He rubs my back and smooths my hair out of my face in-between rounds of vomiting, now into the kidney basin. I try to move away from him, but he holds me close, very aware of the nurse busying herself getting clean sheets, a set of clean clothes for me from the wardrobe, and a pair of scrubs for Derek.
"It's not your fault sweetheart." Derek sooths. "It's okay. These things happen. Are you alright?" He asks, his voice is full of what I know to be false concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I assure him, nodding.
"Everything looks okay." The nurse says, unclipping me from all of the monitors. "Do you need help in the shower? I'll clean this up if not, and then you can rest."
"I don't need help. My husband will help me." I say. I want so badly to scream, to beg the nurse to stay with me but I can't. Years of fear conditioning and the response is automatic before I even think about it. It's an unspoken rule. ALWAYS make Derek look good. NEVER reveal that our life is anything other than perfect. The nurse nods, and gets cleaning supplies, then begins to change the bedding while Derek helps me into the bathroom.
*IN THE BATHROOM*
Derek helps me out of my clothing. My body is stiff. I want so badly to push him away. It's scary how quickly I can fall back into the roll of submissive wife. He kisses my neck and runs his hands over my exposed body before shaking his head, disapprovingly.
'If you don't want him to hurt you be submissive. He won't hurt you as badly if you do not make him so angry.' I remind myself silently. I do not make any sudden moves as he turns on the water, just right. Not too holt or too cold. He runs his hands over my body, lightly, teasingly. He presses on my stomach in just the place that he could feel the baby kick as he supports me and helps me to step into the shower. I realize that I am trembling from all of the vomiting. He looks me over, eyes stopping on the bandage on my stomach. I shouldn't even be in the shower right now. I wonder if he heard what I did to myself? I don't take the bandages away. They've used a water-resistant covering on top of the actual bandages. For anyone else this may be considered a loving embrace, but for me, it's torture. It's a sign that no matter what happens I will never be free of him. I'm shaking, and my breathing unsteady as I quickly wash up aware of his eyes following my every move. He sits down on the toilet, quietly, just watching.
"We're going to work this out." He finally says. "We're going to come to an amicable solution." He reminds me to wash my hair and the continues. "I'm with Meredith now. I can't have you screwing up my one true chance at happiness." This statement stings. I look at him sadly as I lather the shampoo into my hair. I have been away from him for a little while now, and if It hadn't have been for mark, I'd still be buying that same shampoo and conditioner. The only one he'd allow me to have. The thought of that horrible scent nearly makes me begin vomiting all over again.
"Why would I do that?" I ask him. "I already told you, she's not yours. You have nothing to worry about here Derek. I'm just the cheating whore who couldn't appreciate how much you love me and got pregnant by another man. This makes me look bad, not you." I say, forgetting myself for a minute. I'm not supposed to speak out against him. If we were at home this would have earned me a sharp slap across the face. He doesn't move though, and this scares me more than ever. I know his every move. He is waiting, watching. Like a snake he is looking for the perfect opportunity to strike.
"You're going to transfer jobs." He tells me. "You're going to keep this baby, and you're going to raise her. You're going to look at her in the eyes every single day and know that you did this to me." He snarls, to be nasty more than anything else. We hear the door closing as the nurse leaves the room, and before I can react, he is right next to me. He punches me hard in the stomach, right where the incision is. This takes my breath, I scream out, and bend over holding my stomach in unbearable pain. I almost wish I was at home right now. When I was at home, I stayed so drunk, so high that it didn't matter. Usually by the time he got home I'd be passed out, but not in any pain. He is so full of himself. I wouldn't need to take alcohol or drugs if he would just stop hitting me all the time. I sink down in the corner of the shower, letting the warm water flow over me, resting my head on my knees.
"Get up!" He demands, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me up. My feet slip as he pulls me out of the shower and onto the tile. He takes a small syringe from the pocket of his scrubs, removes the cap and pushes the air out. Before I can move, he twists my arm behind my back and injects the full syringe into my neck.
"Derek? What have you done?" I ask questionly, my body feeling with fear as I can feel my body going numb. He looks surprised. The effects of the drugs he has injected must be taking place quicker than he expect them to. I am limp in his arms. He lays me down on the cold hard floor.
"You're okay." He says calmly. "I had someone mix you up a little something extraordinary." He says, almost soothingly. He looks over to the empty syringe. "It's liquid Rohypnol, it's a paralyzing agent. You won't remember a thing." He taunts almost in a seductive tone. Maybe it is the drugs messing with my mind, but the room is spinning around me. His voice sounds sing song. I'm shivering so hard. I know because my teeth are chattering. "Shh… Shh don't fight it." He said as I groan in pain. He removes his vomit covered clothing and puts them in the sink of soapy water to soak and then rinses himself off in the shower. "You know I can't risk you screaming and anyone coming in." He kneels down beside me, stroking different areas of my body, excitement rising when I am unable to resist. He smooths my hair out of my face and kisses me softly. He moves my legs apart; everything is getting hazy. Like a smoke is filling the room. He takes a second syringe, this one bigger, and inserts it into me. It only takes me a second, even in my drug induced state to figure out what he was doing. Misoprostol. It's a medication that was initially created to cure ulcers and erectile dysfunction. It is a drug that has the unfortunate side effect of inducing labor / spontaneous abortions if injected at or near the cervix. I can feel the tears falling down my cheeks. This isn't how I wanted this to happen. I was going to carry her to term, give her up to a loving family. It's too early.
"I love you, and you'll never be able to escape my love, but this medicine will help us solve our little problem." He gestures to the syringes, and a tube of white good. He doesn't want the baby to survive, and even if it does, he knows the difficulties premature infants face, especially if born addicted to drugs and alcohol. If the baby lived… the chances of her being severely disabled are so great. Nobody would want to adopt her, and I would have to raise her to avoid her going into the foster care system and face abuse at someone else's hands. If she dies it is my fault as well. If I wouldn't have taken so many drugs and alcohol, she would be stronger right now. She'd have a better chance of survival. Either way Derek wins. Derek is stroking himself, covering his penis with the creamy white medication from the tube. He positions himself on top of me and inserts himself slowly, several times, and then harder, and faster. I wish that the medication would have paralyzed my ears. The sounds he is making while trying to be quiet is possibly worse than the act itself. The look of pure euphoria on his face when he climaxed too much. I ended up passing out. A sound wakes me, and I come to again. I still can't move. Why can't I move?
"What the hell are you doing in here? You're not supposed to be within 100 yards of her."
"I work here."
"Not in this room you don't."
"My wife and I were having sex in the shower, and she passed out. I stabilized her and was just about to call for help." Derek says, smoothly.
"You were going to call for help with y our penis?" Mark asks, he looks down, raising his eyebrows and didn't even wait for a response before knocking Derek out cold. It's not a fair fight. Derek wasn't expecting it, and well… Mark's love for me has always made him seem stronger than he really is. When I am in danger he is like the incredible Hulk. Mark grabs an extra blanket from the wardrobe and pulls me into his arms, wrapping me in the blanket's warmth, preserving my dignity as best as he can as he calls for help.
"We need a doctor in here immediately and call the police." He demands when the nurse asks if everything's okay. Before I pass out again, I look up at him, wondering why its always him who ends up in these situations with me. People rush into the room, and I feel myself being lifted into the air. They lay me on a gurney and cover me with a dry blanket to keep me warm.
"What happened?"
"Do you know if she took anything?"
"Does she have any allergies?"
"What is her blood type?"
"Someone page Arizona Robbins STAT."
The questions come quick and, in a hurry, as they take my vitals and try to figure out what happened. Derek begins to wake up and sits up slowly.
"The police will want to talk to you." Mark spat at him. "I suggest you put some pants on." Mark says, before kicking him hard in the manhood, and walking out the door, demanding a security officer to keep an eye on Derek, and then coming to check on me.