Addison Montgomery Shepherd's Point of View

"Ouch." I mumble, and then cough which sends a burning sensation through my head as it feels like it's exploding. I raise my hands to my head, finding a thick bandage. It doesn't immediately register that I've had surgery. At first, I think someone must have checked the stitches and re bandaged the wound. I put my guard up as the events from the on-call room come back to me, as if they are a wispy smoke. I can't quite get a clear image. I silently asceses my injuries in my mind. I pause, shaking my head slowly, press my lips together trying to keep from crying out at the pain. Everything hurts. I try to focus in on what hurts the most. From the location of the most pressing pain, I know. He raped me, again. I think silently, begging to fall under the powers of sedation again, but I am waking up, slowly gaining awareness.

"Addison, everything's okay. You're going to be okay. Don't try to speak. There is some swelling in your throat." Amelia moves from the hard plastic hair next to the window and comes over to my bedside. She checks the monitors and adjusts the medication in the I V drip. She is avoiding eye contact with me. I know that she is trying to avoid looking at the bruises. It's been years, and it hasn't gotten any easier for her. She looks like she is just relieved to see me waking up, to know that she didn't somehow screw up and gork me.

"What happened?" I ask waspishly, because why would I listen to instructions?

"I'm not sure." Amelia admits. "You were found unconscious. You were attacked, you were found to have an acute subdural hematoma caused by blunt force. I had to do a craniotomy to stop the bleeding and remove the clot. You made it through the operation without incident, but in recovery you suffered a pretty bad seizure." Amelia explains slowly. She looks like she is going to come out of her skin. "We had to administer medication to stabilize you after you were found and through the surgery. You were too weak for us to administer more without being at risk for cardiac arrest, so we had to wait it out. We don't know if there is lasting damage at this time. She gives me a sympathetic look and I cringe.

"Don't look at me like that." I speak slowly, I gasp in between my words. It feels like I cannot get a full breath in. I move my hands to my neck and rub. I wince as I press down on the deep purple bruises.

"You should rest. The police will be here to speak with you soon." She checks my eyes for equal responsiveness.

"I don't want to press charges. Amelia please. I can't press charges." I can't stop crying now. I feel panicked, like a cow before slaughter. Amelia marks a number on the form she is holding and asks me other simple questions and to preform simple tasks. She asks me my name, if I know where I am, and if I can count backwards by seven's from one hundred. She continues with this for several minutes, accessing my cognitive function before continuing.

"Do you know who attacked you?"

"You know who did this." I say, quietly. "I can't press charges Amelia. You know what he'll do."

"It's your right to not press charges, but Addison you really need to think about the implications of your decisions. This isn't just about you anymore. You have your beautiful baby to consider. She needs her Momma to fight for her Addison."

"I need a Levonorgestrel placed."

"Addison did he rape you?" Amelia asks directly. I know they wouldn't have given her a full rundown of my injuries, and if she hadn't bothered to read my chair…. Well… it's better she didn't know. At least we had those few moments, before she started looking at me like she is looking at me now. They just had her sign a quick waiver because I am family. She knows that Bailey ordered a rape kit, they had taken pictures of all of my injuries and taken the samples before I woke up from surgery, but the results wouldn't be back yet. That is if they are tested at all. There is a huge backlog, entire warehouses full of untested rape kits. As long as I get the medication, I will be fine.

"It's fine Amelia. I'm fine. It's not like this is the first time he's done this." I say shrugging. A pained look crosses Amelia's expression. She looks heartbroken, like she just wants to scoop me up and hold me forever, protecting me from all the harm that her brother has caused.

"I'll get you the HIV cocktail, emergency contraceptive, STD prophylaxis. They took pictures of your injuries, did an exam, and collected the rape kit while you were still sedated. We can see about long term birth control once you've recovered a little bit." She reminds me, settling, she doesn't tell me more though it looks like she wants to.

"Evidence was collected without my consent. It will be inadmissible in court." I point out, dismissively. "Please. Amelia I just want the medication, and the birth control placed. I can't risk… If I end up pregnant again, I'll… I will… I'll jump off the roof of this hospital and who knows who else that skank of an intern he has been sleeping with has been screwing. I can't get an STD, some cause long term damage." I grab Amelia by the wrist, I try to remain strong, but my words are jumbled as I try not to cry so hard now that the machines are beeping, registering low oxygen.

"Addison…"

"It was an accident; I just want to go home to my husband. Please just let me go home." I say, and our eyes lock. I know that Amelia knows the truth. She knows far too much about this situation. My lies are pointless. She cannot protect me anymore than I could have protected her.

"Mark signed the consent forms. He is your emergency contact."

"I know you cannot understand this right now, but Derek loves me, Amelia."

"He is going to kill you."

"He's sick Amelia. He has a tumor the size of a grapefruit in his brain, he showed me the scans."

"He could have faked the scans, and even if he didn't that's no fucking excuse. You could have died. You could still die from the damage that he inflicted on you. You are practically my big sister. You are my very best friend. I can't… I just… I can't live in a world without you in it." Amelia says, and now she is crying. I hold my hand out to her, and she comes closer, sitting on the hospital bed next to me, and resting her head in her hands. "You're okay?" She whispers, so broken.

"I'm okay." I repeat, stroking Amelia's dark black hair. "Amelia I'm fine." It's funny how quickly I can fall back into the role of being comforting when my whole world is falling apart, and I am the one who needs comforted.

"You have to press charges…" Amelia says, looking up at me. "I don't care if he's dying. What he's done to you all of these years… it's unforgivable Addison."

FLASHBACK

ALMOST 1 YEAR AFTER ADDISON AND DEREK's WEDDING

"I'm getting a divorce." I say, pouring myself a glass of red wine. Bizzy slaps me hard across the face, shocked I drop the glass and it shatters on the kitchen floor as I move my hand to my face, staring at my mother in horror.

"I thought I raised you better than this?!" Bizzy demands and I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from retorting that Bizzy didn't raise my brother and I at all. The twenty three nannies did. I struggle not to bring up how Archer and I never formed that real attachment to anyone because the moment the only person in our lives who cared for us got settled in The Captain (our father) would start sleeping with her, and by the end of the year she'd be gone and someone else would waltz in. I can't even remember all of their names. The Montgomery Children, we had the most in style clothes. We attended the very best schools. We had private lessons any child would dream of, but we didn't have the one thing we needed. Our parents. We were more like accessories to our parents than children who deserved to be loved and cared for.

"Mother he hits me! He pushed me down a flight of stairs! He made me miscarry your grandchild."

"Don't call me that!" Bizzy hisses, warningly. She selectively ignores the rest.

"I'm sorry… Bizzy." I say, with such emphasis on my mothers name, rolling my eyes, but then I transition right back into my rant. "Please! Bizzy, I have never asked you for anything my entire life, but I need this. I need your help. He is going to kill me."

"Stop being so melodramatic. It's not that bad Addison."

"Is that all you have to say?" I ask, outraged. I am not sure why I thought confiding in my Mother of all people was the right move, but the least she could do is offer a kind word, or at least an olive branch of emotional support. "It's not that bad? Stop being melodramatic? Are you living at my house? How would you know if it is that bad or not?" I do the unthinkable and take off my shirt right there in the kitchen for my mother to see, what she is calling 'not that bad'. My back, chest, stomach, and shoulders are a varying map of light green to dark purple. He only hits me where it cannot be seen.

"Addison you always have been such a hypochondriac. A cold and you're convinced it's pneumonia. A headache and you're sure you have brain cancer. A few little bruises and suddenly you're being abused by the man who loves you, who provides for you."

"I can provide for myself."

"There is clearly a reason why you've stayed. He isn't really mistreating you. If he was mistreating you, you would have left. You need to take a step back and ask yourself What am I doing to deserve the way he is treating me and then work your way up from there." Bizzy gives me a disgusting look, downs whatever she is drinking, and tells me to put my shirt back on and stop embarrassing myself. A hot rush of shame washes over me.

"Bizzy I'm scared…" I admit, scrambling to put my shirt back on, fumbling with the buttons.

"He won't hit you if you don't make him so angry." She assures me. "Addison, I promise you. Be a good wife and he will take care of you. Marriage is a two-way street Addison. Do you really expect him to treat you well when you are behaving in a way that is so undeserving of his love?"

"He treats our dog better than he treats me."

"Maybe you need to take lessons from the dog then. Be submissive. You're going to be fine."

END FLASHBACK

Someone brings me some pills and a huge plastic cup of ice water. I tilt the little medicine cup back and swallow the pills without even looking at them.

"She passed her neurological exam; she's doing okay Mark." Amelia says, I look up and see Mark had entered the room. He is carrying a vase of flowers, a silly little coffee cup shaped stress ball that says, "get well soon", and a balloon with the same character that says, "I love you a latee." I smile when he hands me the gift. I smell the flowers and he takes them and places them on the counter. "I believe that the seizure was brought on by the immense amount of stress her body has been through over the last couple of weeks."

"Derek is in jail." Mark announces, taking my hand and squeezing it hard. "He is being held in jail without bond pending investigation." Mark informs us. I can feel my face fall at the news. I cannot even pretend like I am not disappointed. It was never supposed to go this far. Overwhelming anxiety begins building up inside of me, the urge to cut to release some of the pressure, to punish myself for all the bad that I have done so strong. I take a breath, trying to push all of the big feelings down.

"Exactly where he needs to be." Amelia responds, nodding. She and her brother were close growing up, but that all changed when she found out what he was doing to me. No one deserves to face his wrath. I begin crying again and Mark trades places with Amelia, sitting on the bed beside me, pulling me into his arms and holding me tightly until my breathing evens.

"I didn't want this."

"I know, but sometimes needs outweigh wants." Mark squeezes my hand again.

"I want to see Jazlynn. I need to see our baby." I say, out of the blue, suddenly realizing just how full and uncomfortable my chest is. I know that I will have to pump the breastmilk out and dump it due to the wide variety of medications in my system, but it reminds me just how much I am missing the baby I didn't even want. Something about giving birth to her changed things. I had myself convinced that I didn't want this child throughout the entire pregnancy I was certain but when I saw her things changed. Suddenly the fact that she was here mattered more than how she got her.

Amelia and mark look at each other, and Amelia shrugs her shoulders like 'what could it possibly hurt'. Mark nods his head approvingly. They help me into a pair of regular pajamas, and then re secure my I V's and help me into the wheelchair. I look up at them wearily. Just the effort it took to get dressed in something other than that horrible nightgown is exhausting. Mark pushes me, and Amelia pushes the I V's behind me. When we get to the NICU they work together, helping me to scrub in, and put on the required paper gown and gloves over my clothing.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mark asks, and I nod. I sit back down in the wheelchair, and they wheel me over to Jazlynn's incubator. Amelia gently wraps her in a warm receiving blanket careful not to bother her monitors and goes to lift her up.

"Wait… Amelia she's so small, we can't hold her yet; her skin is too delicate." I protest. The last thing we need is Jazlynn's butterfly wing delicate skin cracking and contracting an infection.

"She's perfect Addison." Amelia says soothingly. "Yes, you are, you're fine, aren't you? You are Auntie Amelia's little fighter! Yes, you are Jazzy." Amelia coos, and Jazlynn just looks up at her with those big eyes that seem impossibly large for her face, studying her. "We were given all clear to hold her yesterday." She explains as she hands the little baby bundle to me.

"Ohh." I gasp, a flood of emotions coming as I hold my daughter in my arms. "You're beautiful." I breathe in her sweet newborn scent. Before I can stop myself, I am holding her closely, and crying all over her. Mark and Amelia look confused, but overall pleased. As I look down at my tiny baby daughter something strange happens. For the first time, in what feels like forever, I smile and true genuine smile.