Addison Montgomery Shepherd's Point of View:

"Addison you can't do this!" Mark exclaims, slamming his fists down onto the marble countertop of the hospital rooms cabinet at the word 'this'. He watches as I throw my belongings into my suitcase. I just signed myself out of the hospital against medical advice. I'm going home. Back to Derek, to my brownstone, to my life. I know he doesn't understand how I could consider a place where I was beaten and emotionally tortured as home, but honestly. I don't need his judgement right now. I jump at the noise his fists make hitting the countertop. Instinct takes over and I move my hands up automatically, protecting my head, my face, my body unable to understand what my brain is telling me. Mark would never hurt me. I try to blink the angry tears from my eyes.

"He needs me, Mark! What am I supposed to do?" I ask. I can feel my voice trembling. I hate it. I hate myself for wanting to go back to him, for wanting to help him despite everything that he's put me through over the years. I hate that there is a part of me that still love him, a part that clings to the hope that he may love me. The part that believes him. We had spent the last few days together and it was like finding a long-lost friend.

"You say not just no but hell no!" Mark exclaims, but his tone is gentler now. "How many times has he tried to murder you?" He asks me. "He nearly killed our daughter, and you are at increased risk. You're not even supposed to be out of the hospital yet."

"It was my fault." I move too fast, and a wave of pain causes me to bend over and lean against the hospital bed for support, a reminder that healing takes time. It takes time that I do not have. "I should have fought harder; I could have done… something." I think back to that day on the bathroom floor and so many excuses fill my mind. My memories of that time, though clear directly after are becoming hazy, confused as the nightmares mix with the reality and the lines are blurred. It is like an angel vs a devil on my shoulders. Mark vs Derek. I deserve to be loved unconditionally vs I don't deserve to be hurt. Love shouldn't hurt vs he beats me because he loves me and wants me to be better. If he didn't love me, he wouldn't bother. These haunting thoughts leave scars, even if they are not visible ones.

"Baby no…" He pulls me close to him, gently kissing me on the forehead. "This is his fault. He is the one who hurt you. Tumor or not tumor. HE alone is to blame for HIS actions."

"I'm not a victim, stop treating me like his victim." I say harshly.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you keep acting like a victim."

"I am not 'playing the victim'" I explode, mocking his words. "He's sick Mark… He used to be your best friend. What happened? All of this…" I say, gesturing to the bruises on my body, and the healing wounds… "It was just because of the tumor. He loves me."

"He stopped being my best friend the moment he laid his hands on you." Mark clarifies. "He's lying." Mark declares. He takes me by the shoulders, stopping me in my tracks, holding me steady and forcing me to look at him. "Addison…He…is…lying…to…you." He says, slowly.

"You just don't know him as well as I do. This tumor, it's not something that he'd lie about." I protest. He lets go of me and throws his hands up in fear and frustration. I sink down to the floor in silent tears.

"He's, my husband. Mark, he loves me."

"You keep saying that, but this isn't love Addison." He snatches my arm up hard, pushing up my sleeve and exposing all of the cuts, scars and bruises. "Love does not hurt." He keeps telling me this, but it isn't true. Sometimes love does hurt.

"Let me go." I demand. He drops my arm as quickly as he picked it up. I don't know if he understands that what I really meant was let me leave. I move further away from him, but I don't leave the room. I look at him, searching, almost silently begging for his blessing. Mark shakes his head and looks away from me sadly.

"Are you really that desperate to die?" He asks me, narrowing his eyes.

"He's not going to kill me."

"This is a suicide mission Addison."

"If I wanted to kill myself, do you really think I'd announce it?" I ask simply. I play around in my head. The depression and anxiety tells me all of the different ways I could end my life with simple household items if things did go south with Derek. I shake my head, clearing away the dark thoughts. Mark doesn't know it, but I wasn't trying to kill myself when I drank all the alcohol that night. I wasn't trying to kill myself when I picked up the razor blade. Hell, I wasn't even really trying to kill myself when I overdosed and tried to cut Jazlynn out of my body. I was trying to make the pain stop. I was trying to feel something other than this blinding pain and emotional void. It's a foreign concept that very few people understand. It's so much easier to tell people I wishes I was dead when they "clean up" my mess than to have to sit through a lecture about how good her life is and how ungrateful she is for not wanting to live it. They expect me to just shut up and be happy that they "saved" me. I am unsalvageable, at least in my mind. Derek broke me. This is who I am now.

"Really?" Mark asks. "Because you are sure making a hell of a public attempt to self-destruct." I don't respond. Just stay quiet and still, I can feel him watching me. "Addie Ella wouldn't have wanted this." He says and I know he is thinking of Jazlynn all alone in the hospital NICU. He knows as well as I do that my whole downward spiral started with Ella's death if she had survived, I would have stayed with him. We'd be raising our baby together. I miss her so much.

"Ella's dead." I say, all the emotion gone from my words. "What she would have wanted doesn't matter because she is not here." I pull the heart shaped locked off of my neck, throwing it in Mark's general direction before getting up, grabbing my suitcase, and before he can stop me walking out of the door.

I walk quickly through the hallways, cutting through wings and corridors that I would not normally take. I don't want Mark to come after me, to be able to stop me. I know this path well, but it's not as natural to Mark. I look down, ignoring the murmuring of my co-workers. My face flushes red as I realize what a mess I must look like. I don't look like the prim, proper, sophisticated Dr. Addison Montgomery Shepherd that they're used to. I had left the hospital in such a hurry that I didn't even think to push down my sleeves of my under tee that Mark had pushed up. I realize that my scars are vulnerable, exposed to peering eyes. My eyes are tired with dark circles under them. My cheeks hollow. I hadn't applied make up this morning. The cut and stitches from where I had fallen still an ugly focal point on my head. I am suddenly grateful that at least I thought to brush my hair this morning.

"Ooof." I bump into someone and stumble. He catches me and looks up to see Derek. He's holding my arm, supporting me with one arm, and juggling a dozen roses and a get well soon teddy bear in the other. "Hey…" I say, regaining my footing.

"Careful." He warns. "You could have hurt yourself."

"I'm sorry." I whisper, we had spent a few days together, but years of abuse plays the bigger hand. I am still wearily when I am around him.

"I thought I'd find you here." He says with a warm smile. I hadn't had a destination in mind when I left the hospital room. I look up to see that I am standing in front of the doors to the NICU. "I saw these at the gift shop and thought that they'd cheer you up." He smiles at me, with teeth. I wonder how his teeth are so brilliantly white when his breath smells like they haven't been brushed.

"They're beautiful. Thank you." I accept the gifts, bringing the roses to my nose and inhaling deeply. We go silent for a moment, and a heaviness fills the air. I look down, fidgeting with the teddy bear, avoiding eye contact.

"I know you're afraid Addison. You have every right to be afraid, but I'm not going to hurt you." He says, cutting through the tension.

"How did you even get out of jail?" I ask him. "Mark told me you were arrested." The question popped out before I could really think about it. I'm not thinking properly. I am forgetting one of his main rules. Never ask questions. He looks at me strangely, but it is not anger in his eyes. I don't know what it is, and it makes me nervous.

"The bail was set at five hundred thousand dollars; it wasn't hard to meet. Just a swipe of the debit card." He shrugs offhandedly.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry that I'm out of jail?" He looks a little cross at this and I move back. He sees this and instantly calms his expression, putting his hands up in an I'm innocent, surrendering way.

"No, I'm just so sorry for everything that's happened." I begin crying silently.

"Try not to worry about it." He says gently. "There's nothing that can be done about that now." He moves closer to me, drying my tears with his thumbs. He smiles at me, that special smile that he always used to save just for me. I hadn't seen that smile since my wedding. I feel my guard coming down. It's like ice cream melting in the sun on a hot summers day.

"I'm scared Derek." I mummer.

"I know, and I am so so sorry Addison." He whispers in my ear, rubbing my back. "You've been through so much that you never deserved to go through. You need to rest, you need to take it easy for a while." Concern, genuine concern.

"I signed myself out A M A." I say quietly. "I'm leaving."

"You can't do that." Derek protests. "What about your baby? You are the best in the field she is going to need you."

"Parents can't work on their children Derek, you know that." I say, and then. "When I signed ou signed over rights of the baby to her father."

"You're hurt. You need time to recover."

"I'm fine." I say, my automatic response.

"You're not 'fine' you've been through too much for any one person to handle. You need to give yourself time to relax and recover. YOU need to be there for OUR daughter because I'm not going to be here for much longer, and I don't for one second believe that she is Mark's. She's going to need her Mom." His eyes drift to my exposed arms, and sorrow reflects in them. "In all my life I will never be able to make up for what I did for you, but I can help this little girl have the life that she deserves."

"I thought you were lying about that..." Is all I can think to say as a wave of shame rushes over me. How many ways had I failed to protect Jazlynn.

"I wish I was." He says, looking down at his hands. He then pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, bringing up his MyChart patient file and pulls up an image of his brain, explaining to me, in detail, what the different images mean. I look at him blankly. I'm a doctor, yes, but the brain is not my area of expertise. I only understood about half of what he said. "In simpler terms I have an inoperable, malignant tumor the size of a grapefruit on my frontal lobe. They are starting chemo and radiation soon in hopes of reducing it to an operable size, but it's one of the worst I've seen. I'd give myself six months to a year pending treatment results."

"What can I do." I find myself asking.

"Tell me the truth."

"The truth about what?"

"The baby Addison."

"What about her?" I ask, color draining from my face.

"I need to know if she is really mine or not." He asks, his eyes pleading with me. "Please Addison. I'm probably not even going to live long enough to see her graduate from the NICU. I can't die not knowing."

"I'm so sorry Derek...She's not your baby." I look him square in the eye, carefully telling him this lie, so that he would believe me. Lying is important. I know that at this moment he won't hurt her, but what happens if he becomes violent again. He doesn't want anything coming between him and Meredith, and the baby... well, she's a major block.

"When?" He asks.

"I don't know." I grumble. "Derek, I don't know."

"WHEN ADDISON?" He demands. Something changes and he grabs my arms hard. I jump frightened, and he lets go of me, apologizing. I back away trembling.

"Prom." I don't know if the dates would line up, but it was the first thing that came to mind. I try to make it sound like I am being honest. I know this will hit him hard. I manage the simple word, and then look down, ashamed. I had caught Derek and Meredith having sex in the on-call room during the hospital prom, and I didn't return as he called for me while they were throwing their clothing back on. I went to Mark. I always fall back into Mark's arms when things are bad. We drove out to one of the city overlooks, got drunk and had sex. Derek had come home drunk and furious the next morning. I had to take a full two weeks off of work to recover from his wrath. There were not hiding the bruises that time. I once heard a quote that said "Ordinary is what you are used to. This may not seem ordinary to you now, but after a time it will. It will become ordinary." That's what happened here. This isn't the first time that he's beaten me and then been so turned on that he'd immediately force me into what he called 'make up sex'. He stayed with me that entire two weeks. He told everyone we were on a holiday in Tuscany. He looks at me oddly, as if remembering that night, and then takes my hand, pulling me close to him and kissing me on the forehead.

"You're coming with me." He whispers into my hair. My stomach drops. Has this all been one huge act? His voice is suddenly cold, harsh. "Don't fight, and don't say a word." He wraps his arm around my lower back in the pretense of helping to support me as we walk away from the NICU and towards the on-call room. I don't realize it, but he has pulled down my sleeves. We walk past a couple of nurses who smiled at us as if they were thinking 'aren't they just the cutest couple?' Derek increases the pressure on my back, pushing his fingers hard into my side when he realizes that I look miserable and am not 'masking'. I fix my face, smiling back at the nurses. It's something that would go unnoticed by passersby, but I know. Even this simple touch reminds me that he owns me, and I am to never make him look bad. They say hello and ask me how my day has been, and I respond kindly. When they pass, he pulls me close, heads touching as if we are two best friends just going on a stroll down the hallway.

"Derek, I don't want..." I start, swallowing hard, but we turn the corner, and he pushes the door to the on-call room open, guiding me inside, making sure that I see him lock the door.

"I warned you to come with me. I warned you not to speak. I made my expectations very clear, Addison." He says, his tone remorseful as if he was sorry that I had angered him. It was as if he were testing me, a test that I've, apparently, failed.

"I'm sorry. Derek, I didn't mean anything by it. I was just being kind to the nurses."

"Do you WANT people to know all of the things I have to do to keep you in check?" He looks at me and I shudder. I'm not completely healed from my surgery. He gives me a disgusted look. "I can't even look at you." He pushes me hard, and I stumble, catching myself just before hitting my head on the metal frame of the on-call room bunk beds. "I look at you and I feel nauseous."

"I just want to see my baby. Please Derek. I just wanted to tell her goodbye." My voice cracks, pleading with him.

"No." He pushes me down on the bed and kisses me. I panic and instead of automatically becoming submissive I squirm, fight, attempt to push him off of me, trying to get away. Anger flashes in his eyes. "Seriously Addison?" He asks easily overpowering me. He sits on my hips, holding my arms down against my side. I fall still.

"It looks like you need a little retraining." He says, playfully as if this were a game. I scream "HELP" as loud as I can, and he hits me in the mouth. I can taste the saltiness of blood against my teeth. My lip is starting to swell. I attempt to kick him and then to bite him, trying anything and everything I can think of to get away from him, but due to the weakness from the surgery I only succeed in pissing him off more. Having enough of me he lets go of my arms and placed his bent arm against my throat, pressing hard, holding my nose and mouth shut with his other hand. "I warned you to never disobey me Addison. I warned you never to run." I am choking now, my face is so hot, I'm sure it's red but he doesn't let up as I cough and fight, trying to get away from him, struggling for air. Tears well up in my eyes, it's always worse for me if I cry, but sometimes he'll go easier on me, I stop resisting. The world is spinning, my chest is tight, I'm suffocating. My eyes are going fuzzy, my vision tunneling. I struggle to take a breath to no avail. He is saying something, but I can't hear him. He is smirking. I begin to panic now, crying hard, but I can't move, I can't barely see. I feel someone inject me with something, the sensation of slipping, floating on air as the entire world goes black.