Addison Montgomery Shepherd's Point of View

"Jazlynn." I whisper weakly. I wake up slowly, confused by the drug induced haze. I blink several times as the blur fades and Mark's face comes into more precise focus. I smile a tiny bit when I realize that he is still here next to me, holding my hand.

"It's alright. You were just sleeping." He says gently.

"I had the baby."

"You did. Do you want to see her?" He asks, he takes out his phone when I nod and shows me pictures. She's so tiny, her skin is still translucent. "She's holding on. They're taking good care of her in the NICU."

"What happened?" I ask wearily. I cannot remember anything after the brief moment that they held the baby close for me to see her, even that is hazy. Did it really happen or was it a dream?

"I don't know exactly what happened. After the baby was born Arizona delivered the placenta, and then you started bleeding out. She said it was an early post-partum hemorrhage. You should be alright now." He says, soothingly. "You were given several units of blood as well as more I V fluids, different medications to stop the bleeding."

"I want to see the baby." I whisper. "I need to see Jazlynn." I say, rubbing my eyes, trying to wipe the exhaustion and confusion away. It doesn't work.

"You named her?" Mark asks caught off guard.

"This doesn't change anything. It's just… She's here now. We can't keep calling her 'it' and 'the baby' now that she's here. It seems inhumane." I say. I slowly push myself up into a sitting position, wincing in pain. "She's going to have a hard life. She needs a strong name."

"Addison don't do this." Mark warns gently.

"Do what? Mark, she's a fighter, you know that."

"It's been a rough twenty-four hours. Don't get attached, don't get emotionally involved. It's scary Addison. My heart broke when I saw her in the NICU. Her skin is still translucent. I could count every single one of her veins. She has to have a soft band over her eyes to protect her from the bright lights. She is on breathing support to keep her lungs from collapsing, and she needs a feeding tube. She cannot maintain her blood sugar levels or her body temperature. She's suffering from withdraws, it just hasn't been long enough Addison."

"She's, my child." I say, suddenly defensive. I don't know exactly why, but I just can't let go. Not knowing the difficulties, she will face. Knowing how much worse they will be if she does not get the proper level of intervention now as a newborn. "She has no one. Mark. She needs someone to fight for her."

"We'll talk about this later. You need to rest." He says, gently kissing me, but I don't back down.

"We'll talk about this now." I insist. "I am the best neonatologist in the United States, possibly in the world. I can't just give up on her because it's difficult, a lot of those scary things are common in preemies this young."

"You're not ready to raise a child Addison, especially not a sick one." He says, trying to be gentle, but the frustration he had been working so hard to suppress was beginning to surface. "What are you going to do? Take her with you when you bounce back to Derek again?" His voice is harsh. I don't know when the conversation changed from me caring for her in the NICU to me raising her, but I begin to consider the possibility.

"I can change. I'll work harder. I won't go back to him again. I can be better for her." I promise, tears forming in my eyes.

"We made a deal Addison. Our goal was to keep her safe at all costs." Mark reminds me. I know he is thinking of all the self-destructive things I have done since I have been away from Derek. Am I strong enough to change? Would raising my abusers baby be enough to push me over the edge? I look at him, a sense of betrayal.

"If she survives, she will most likely have lifelong problems. Who is better equipped to care for a child like that than me?"

"You mean us?"

"We're not a couple. You have no obligation to her, I do."

"You're wrong." He snaps, worry, fear and anger getting the better of him. "I'm obligated because I'm her 'father'" Mark said, making parentheses around the word father. His blind love for me has gotten him into this mess. I know he has thus far kept up with his end of the deal. I never intended for things to go this far. We didn't think this through the way we should have. There was so little time between the time we had decided on this plan and the time she was born. We both had every single intention of signing away parental rights and walking away. Neither of us thought of the possibility that she might be born early, or that I might change my mind. Now were both responsible, and I feel terrible for dragging him into this. I should have claimed no paternity on the birth certificate.

"Mark I…" I trail off. I don't know what to say. The events of the last twenty-four hours a lot that is weighing heavily on me. I am a trainwreck. I cannot blame him for being emotionally drained anyone would be after what we've been through.

"You're just trying to replace Ella." Mark accuses. It is something I hadn't considered. How hard would it be to look at Jazlynn every day knowing that she was conceived in hate when Ella, the baby that they wanted, the baby was conceived in love is dead. Is he angry with me for considering keeping her?

"I would never try to replace Ella." I am stunned into near silence at the mere suggestion that I'd replace her. You can never replace a child that you've lost. They're irreplaceable, but that doesn't automatically deem their siblings unlovable.

"He raped you. Multiple times." Mark says, harshly.

"How is that her fault?"

"I held you while you gave birth to her." Mark said with a tear falling down his cheek. IS he flashing back to Ella's birth? I know he is missing her just as much as I am. I wish she was here with us too.

"That's not my fault, that was your choice." I snap, hurt, being entirely selfish for my own wellbeing and not stopping to think of how much this must have killed him. How this whole situation I got him into must be eating him alive inside.

"I didn't mean it like that Addison." He corrects himself. "I'm here for you. That is my choice. I will do whatever you need, but I need to make sure that this baby is safe from the Monster who helped create her." He says vigilantly. "I need to make sure that you stay safe from him."

"You should make a clean break." I urge. "It will be easier for everyone if you go." I am tired beyond tired. Pure and simple exhaustion. Physically and mentally drained. I tried, but If I am feeling this badly, I cannot imagine how he is feeling. "You don't have to be a part of this anymore." I just can't be the more prominent better person right now.

"He's going to find out what you've done, and when he does, he will kill you both." Mark says urgently, his tone sickened by the thought that I would continue to put my life, and the life of this already vulnerable baby in danger.

"Maybe it is destiny." I say dully. "Maybe I'm not meant to be here. Not meant to live."

"I can't believe that."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you. It kills me to see you in pain and well… I guess there is a part of me that has to cling to the belief that things will get better." Mark sinks down on the pillows next to me.

"If that were true, you'd understand why I cannot lose her too." I look down at my hands and begin picking at the tape on the port in my hand. I can't look back up at him. It's selfish. I don't know what attracts him to me. I am and always have been a hot mess. Do people really go for that? We work. We always have worked. Derek just…. Derek has more control over me. I swallow hard. I can't cry now. I am determined not to cry. The thought of losing another child is too much for me to handle right now. I thought that I would be able to put her up for adoption, but that was when she was meant to be born healthy, full term. Circumstances have changed. I feel so much guilt for the awful thoughts and actions that I had towards this pregnancy. I don't know how to deal with this, with the knowledge that this is mostly my fault. If I hadn't hurt myself, I wouldn't have been in the hospital. Derek never would have had access to me.

"She's, his daughter. Addison, just… the way I know she was conceived… the way she came into this world. I… I can't look at you. It's not her fault, but I look at you and I feel nauseous. When I look at you, I want to kill him."

"It's true that she's his, but she's also mine. This baby is a part of me Mark." The tears I had been holding back fall on the word 'mine'. A hard knock on the door causes ups to jump. We look up as a female detective enters the room.

"Hi… I'm Abigail Johnson, I'm with Seattle Special Victims Unit." She walks closer to my hospital bed, extending her hand to me, and I don't take it. She opens her mouth to speak again when I cut her off.

"Who called you? I'm not a victim. I didn't file a complaint." I say harshly, wiping the tears from my conversation with Mark from my eyes.

"I know."

"So, if you know why you are here?" I demand.

"A complaint was filed on your behalf. I need to take down your statement about what happened last night." She says, she takes out a notepad and a pen. "Can we talk alone for a few minutes."

"Absolutely not." I say, not wanting to be alone with this woman. She looks offput. I wonder if she is new to the squad. Don't detectives normally come in groups of two? "Anything you wish to say to me you can say in front of Mark." I take Mark's hand in my own, argument momentarily forgotten as fear rushes through me. I squeeze his hand tightly.

"Can you tell me what happened last night?" The officer asks directly.

"I didn't file a police report because nothing happened last night." I say heatedly.

"As I said, a police report was filed on your behalf." Abigail explains carefully. I freeze for a moment. She has dark chocolate almond shaped eyes. I am distracted by just how distant her voice is. Maybe she's not a rookie after all. It is not unlike the sound I use when I have to explain to a patient that their family member has passed away, or when I have to deliver bad news about a pregnancy that has taken a turn for the worst. Compassionate, understanding even, but she is keeping her distance. She is not getting emotionally involved.

"Who filed the report?" I ask, dangerously, looking at Mark before the officer could say anything more. He doesn't have to say anything. The answer is more than clear in his expression. When his eyes lock with mine I know. When you know someone for as long as I've known Mark you learn to read in between the lines of what is said. "You did this?" I ask him, a feeling of betrayal washing over me.

"I'm a mandated reporter Addison." He looks away from me. He won't make eye contact.

"So is every single person on my care team. Yet only you felt the need to do something like this? I trusted you. It's me… not just some random patient. This was not your choice to make."

"It was the right choice to make." Mark pushed back, and without thinking says. "I'm sick of him hurting you. Our baby daughter is in the NICU fighting for her life because of what he did to you. You didn't deserve what happened last night, but she defiantly did not deserve that."

"Please. I need to know about what happened last night." Abigail speaks up, opening her notebook, she writes my name, and today's date on the top of the page.

"Just write down that I was unwilling to cooperate and move on. I told you nothing happened." I respond, trying not to look too guilty as I notice the hand shaped bruise that was beginning to form from the way that Derek squeezed my arm and twisted it behind my back. I frown slightly, thinking for a moment. He normally never hurts me where other people can see. Even when he's slapped my face, it's never been hard enough to cause swelling, or a mark that could not be covered by makeup. The bruises were always able to be hidden by clothing. I wonder if this makes him believe that he can hurt me worse because he knows won't say anything, and the bruises are not able to be seen underneath my clothing.

"Addison, you need to tell the truth." Mark says, his tone gentle now. I bite my bottom lip. It is such a pure action, but I am starting to get overwhelmed.

"Dr. Montgomery Shepherd… It looks like someone hurt you, can you tell me how you obtained these injuries? Is your husband responsible for this?" I narrow my eyes at the officer crossly. I know that there are two ways this could go. 1. I could tell the officer the truth and have a 99% chance of being murdered by Derek anyway. They cannot protect me from him. What am I supposed to do with a restraining order if he is coming at me and I cannot call the police? Throw it at him? 2. I could lie. They're not going to subpoena me to court. The little three letter word that has alienated me from all of my friends and family. Lies equal safety though. I have to do as he trained me to do.

"I threw up." I admit. She writes something down on the paper. "I have hypoglycemia, my blood sugar got low, and it caused me to throw up. You can check my medical records, it's documented."

"In the report it says you passed out, that you were unresponsive. Do you want to talk about how that happened?"

"My husband and I…Derek and I…" I feel like I am going to vomit. My face flushes hot as I try to remember the lie that Derek has told. I am used to this now, but I am missing information. What would make the most logical sense? "We were having sex in the shower. I woke up in a lot of pain, the hot water and the oxytocin from sex helps with pain management." I am so used to this. Derek has conditioned me from the very beginning on what appropriate responses are. I say this with such as confidence. I don't really know that it helps, but I have patients that have told me it is a godsend.

"You had sex with your husband while you're in the hospital at risk for preterm labor?" Abigail clarifies.

"I'm not in preterm labor."

"Obviously you're not, you just gave birth." Mark mumbles, and I glare at him.

"Look it's been a long twenty-four hours. I could do without your sarcasm. I meant that I was not in preterm labor last night when I was in the shower with my husband." I say, looking from him to Abigail. "What happened was a gross misunderstanding. What I did was unprofessional of me and passing out due to my blood sugar crashing is mortifying on a personal level, but this is nothing more than an incident report."

"Your rape kit came back positive for fluids and tearing."

"I had consensual sex last night. We like to be…" I can't even look at Mark when I am saying this. "We like to be adventurous. Dr. Sloan misunderstood the situation."

"That's a lie and you know it Addison." Mark says, shaking his head.

"It wasn't rape. You're just angry that I'm having sex with someone other than you." I say offhandedly discrediting him.

"If it was just about sex I wouldn't even be here. Derek hurt you. He hurt our baby and you're protecting him? What the hell is wrong with you?" Mark screams, I don't back down when he raises his voice though. I just shake my head at him slightly, and then nod in Abigial's direction.

"Look, I don't know what's going on here. I do know that whatever happened is scary though. I'm here to help you. We can protect you from whoever is doing this to you." I know she doesn't believe my story. She must have seen this a thousand times before. She hands me her card, and I put it on the bedside table.

"I'm not afraid, and I don't need your protection." I lie, smoothly this time. "What I need is to be in the NICU with my micro preemie." I say defensively. I try to get up, but the pain is so severe I end up falling back against the bed. The monitors beep showing an unhealthy increase in blood pressure and heartrate. I wince, out of breathe. My body trembling.

"Our daughter." Mark corrects me. It doesn't matter how mad he is at me right now. "Our sweet baby girl who wouldn't even be here for another 15 weeks if Derek hadn't injected those drugs into your cervix!" Mark objects. I don't know why he is feeling so protective of this baby. She isn't even really his. Maybe he just knows that I need her to be safe. If she dies…I don't even want to think about it. Am I strong enough to get through this? Wouldn't it have been kinder to everyone if he had just let me go? Still, we always do manage to fall back together. I'm silent, just watching him. I can feel the anxiety building up inside of me. I catch a look of myself in the mirror. My face is a sickly shade of green. I can hear them talking to me, but I can't make out the words they are saying. Their facial expressions are concerned. The room dissolves away though. A flashback overwhelms me. I am back in the hospital room before the baby was born. He is on top of me. His hands are so warm pressing against my throat. There is a breeze from somewhere in the sickly cold hospital room. I silently beg for death. I know that death would be preferable to anything he has planned. The sweet smell of his cologne makes my stomach churn. It's strange how one smell can overshadow and dictate an entire memory. The touch of his hand as he runs them over my body, gently. How could he have just tried to choke me out, and then in the next moment be so gentle? How the abuse is always less hurtful to me than the constant fear and anticipation of an attack. I almost want to attack him, just to get it over with sooner, but my body is conditioned not to move.

"Addison?" Mark asks. He doesn't touch me though. My body is trembling with fear.

"I'll go get the nurse, maybe she's having a seizure or something." Abigail responds, and Mark agreed as she left. Tears fall down my cheeks. I'm caught in between the past and the present.

"Addison you're safe." Mark says quietly. "You're at the hospital, but I'm right here with you, you're safe." I feel my body being pulled into his arms. He holds me tightly.

"NO!" I scream, disorderly. Not sure what's happening. Thinking he's Derek. I fight, trying to free myself from his grasp. Everything changes again. It's wrong though. I can hear Mark's soothing words, but I am in the bathroom, shivering on the cold floor. The lights are too bright, but I cannot close my eyes. The needle Derek injected me with still stings. I try so hard, but I can't move my body. Breathing is a continuously labored effort as the medication works it's way through my body. He's playing with me, stuck in his little fantasy world. Runing his fingers down my body, and then pushing my legs apart. I brace myself for him to do what he came here for. I am thankful for whatever he injected me with. I cannot feel him inside of me. This drug is better than any emotional numb that I have ever experienced. Maybe he's poisoned me. I pray for a quick death. Death is so much more preferable to this hell.

"Addison can you hear me?" Mark asks. He lets go of me and hands me a bottle of water. I try and refuse, but he insists and puts the straw to my mouth. I take a few drinks slowly. He takes my hands and massages them. I can feel the warmth of his hands spreading through me. I realize my hands are cold, so cold.

"He's going to kill me." I mumble, not fully aware of what just happened, but it is the truth all the same. "He's going to kill me. This time don't try and save me." I blink several times, coming fully back to the present time. I look at Mark, confused, but I cannot keep it together as I allow myself to collapse in his arms. Praying that he will listen to my request, ignoring the look of sheer horror in his face at my words.