Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy. Alas, I also do not own the poem posted in italics at the bottom of this chapter. It is called "Reluctance" and it was written by Robert Frost.

A/N: I want to thank everybody who reviewed on my last chapter—thirteen reviews! I also want to apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I had a lot of homework, and before I had time to post this chapter I went away for the weekend, and didn't have the internet access to put it up, and then I reread the chapter and thought it was crap, so I completely rewrote it. I still don't like it, but it's better. So now, like two weeks after I put up the last one, I'm putting up this chapter. I'm sorry for updating so sporadically…I always mean to update more regularly, but it never works. I'll try to make it up to you, though; I have the next chapter written, and will post it tomorrow, if I get enough reviews. So, you know the drill, please review and make me happy!

One quick note, though. I'm doing something that I'd normally never ever do. Right after I wrote this chapter I read a poem that really seemed to fit it, so I'm going to post the last stanza of it in italics at the very end of the chapter. You can tell me if you disagree, but to me the poem really screamed Addison. If you liked the last stanza of the poem, I would really encourage reading it. The whole poem seems to fit Addison quite well, but the last stanza was the one that resonated most with me, and fit this chapter best, so it's all that I'm posting here. Plus, to post the whole poem would be a bit long.

Oh, and those of you who are feeling bad for Mark right about now? Don't worry, I am too, and I'm thinking and trying to come up with something to make him happy. And I think I have it…

Show Me A Sign

Addison knew she should be happy that it was the first day of January, the first day of a new year, but she couldn't bring herself to muster faked enthusiasm. With the beginning of a new year, you were supposed to be able to move on, to forgive those who have wronged you in the past year, to pretend you have a clean slate in front of you. How was it, Addison wondered, that people could actually pretend that everything was okay, that the consequences to their past actions no longer existed, simply because it was a new year? There was no clean slate, not really, anyhow.

Ironically, her newfound dislike for the New Year did not stop her from making resolutions. If asked, she knew that she would deny fervently that she had ever made them, yet since she had nothing better to cling to at the moment, she clung to her resolutions. She wasn't sure exactly what these resolutions were, yet it was somehow extremely important that she have them.

"What, you don't like starting the New Year?" Callie demanded, startling Addison, who had been sitting in the kitchen, staring absently at full cup of tea. "I would have thought you would be a big New Years fan…you seem the sort."

Addison smiled half-heartedly at Callie and took a sip of her tea. She made a face, discovering that it had become cold, walked to the sink, and poured the tea down the drain. Callie had already put a pot of water on the stove, so she sat back down before answering her friend. "What makes you think that I'm not a fan of New Year's?" Addison questioned.

"I don't know, the way you were sitting there looking sad and like you wished you could be anywhere but where you are now."

There was a moment of silence, and Addison closed her eyes. "I used to love this season," she said softly. "I thought it was a time for forgiveness, and family, and fresh starts. You never really can have a fresh start, can you? It's all a lie, isn't it?" Her words were spoken bitterly, but not without sadness.

Callie stared at her. "I don't know if I'd call it a lie…" she began, but the look on Addison's face caused her to stop. "I'm here for you, you know," Callie reminded Addison, "And if you don't want to talk to me, you should still talk to somebody. You can talk to Izzie, or Bailey, or somebody from New York. Burke and Richard and even Mark are all there for you. If you wanted to, you could even talk to somebody who you helped when helping everybody was your thing, and Sydney is always willing to talk…nonstop willing to talk, and to share her emotions, and to share other people's emotions, and act disgustingly friendly."

Addison groaned. "Not Sydney!" she laughed, causing Callie to smile because she had somehow managed to cheer up her friend, at least temporarily. The tea kettle went off, and Callie turned around to take it off the stove. "Besides," Addison continued in a more serious tone, "No sane person would want to listen to my troubles. Sure, there are people who will do it out of some sense of obligation, but nobody really wants to get involved with my issues."

"Nobody wants to get involved, or you don't want them to get involved?" Callie questioned, her eyebrows raised, causing Addison to roll her eyes and ignore the question.

"It's a new year, and so we're not going to talk about it. It goes against my New Years resolutions, whatever they are." Addison reminded herself that she should be happy, and plastered a smile on her face. It wasn't entirely fake, just, well, enhanced.

"You don't like New Years, but you make New Years resolutions?"

"I'm a hypocrite." Addison declared, as if this was big news. Callie had the grace to not say anything, instead opting to sip her tea. A ring from the phone surprised both Addison and Callie, causing Callie to spill her tea. "I'll get it," Addison volunteered, grabbing the cordless phone off of the counter without bothering to look at the caller ID. "Hello?" she asked.

"Hey," a gruff, male voice on the other end said softly, as if whispering.

Addison, immediately realizing who was calling, was surprised. "Mark?" she questioned, receiving a look of curiosity and slight horror from Callie. She excused herself from the kitchen, and walked into the living room for a little more privacy. "Mark, why are you calling me?" she asked. Though they had become perfectly civil, and possibly friends, Mark had never called her at her home before. When she had been living at the hotel, he hadn't bothered and had instead showed up, and then when she had made it amply clear that she didn't want to deal with him outside of work, he had (surprisingly) respected that wish.

The voice on the other end of the phone groaned loudly. "I need your help," he said reluctantly, and Addison snorted. "No, seriously, I need your help," Mark repeated.

"Mark, what on earth could you need my help for at five thirty in the morning?" Addison demanded. "The only reason I'm up is because I'm supposed to be at the hospital by six thirty—you know, because it's New Years, and lots of people get drunk and do stupid things, endangering their lives, on New Years Eve, when they're drunk. Plus, I told Richard I'd come early and volunteer in the E.R. because he was having trouble getting enough people to do it. Whatever it is you need, it can't warrant a call at this hour."

Though Addison couldn't see Mark, she knew that, wherever he was, he was rolling his eyes. "I don't know where I am," he admitted, and Addison stifled an annoyed laugh. Seriously, was he so proud that he couldn't ask for street directions?

"For God's sake, Mark, just ask for a directions. You're a big boy—it won't harm you too much," she said sarcastically, though curious how he had gotten lost, and where he was going so early in the morning.

"That isn't the problem, Addison!" Mark exclaimed. "I'm in a house, a strange house, and I don't know where the hell I am, which normally wouldn't be a problem but, I can't find any of my clothes. None of them. They're not upstairs, and they're certainly not downstairs…" he trailed off, before adding pitifully, as if it Addison hadn't realized the situation, "And I have a hangover." Addison tried to stifle her laugh, but she couldn't. "It's not funny!" Mark hissed, which only caused Addison to laugh harder.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to help you there," Addison choked out between peals of, slightly repressed, laughter. It took Mark a full ten minutes to convince Addison that he would be forever in her debt if she would go to the hospital, get a spare copy of his room key from his desk, go to his hotel room and get some clothes, and drive and pick him up. Addison agreed, but not before making Mark almost wish that he hadn't asked.

Right before she hung up, she realized something. "How am I going to know where to find you? You can't expect me to just drive around until you see my car out the window…" she asked him. He said that he'd work on figuring out where he was, if she would just come and bring him clothes. Realizing that there was no way out of this, Addison agreed, and (after being told repeatedly by Mark to "hurry!") went to get dressed. She had to admit that, if nothing else, Mark's ridiculous situation had cheered her up temporarily, though she couldn't help but note that Mark was starting off the year on a very bad foot.

"I'm leaving," Addison told Callie, who was now sitting at the table and reading a newspaper.

"Why?" Callie questioned, curious. Addison didn't have to leave for close to another hour, since the hospital was only a few minutes drive away.

"I'm doing Mark a favor," Addison said cryptically, and Callie raised her eyebrows. "He'd kill me if I told you," Addison apologized, before rushing out the door. She felt sort of bad not telling Callie, but it wasn't really Callie's business, and Mark was generally disliked enough that she didn't want this to get around, for his sake. Perhaps she'd tell Callie later.

Addison got in her car, drove to the hospital, and went to Mark's office. Unfortunately, his door was locked, so she had to find Richard to ask him to give her a key. Mark was in luck, because Richard had also gotten to the hospital early, and Addison was able to find him in his office. "Addie, what are you doing here so early? You didn't have to be in for another forty minutes…" Richard told her.

Absently drumming her fingers on Richard's desk, she asked for the keys to Mark's office. Richard gave her a look, and she almost had to bite her tongue so that she didn't slip and tell Richard. "Trust me, you don't want to know," Addison informed him. Richard decided to take her word on it, and gave Addison the key to his office, with a promise that she'd return it later, and a reminder to not be late for work, since she was needed in the E.R.

She completed her errand of finding Mark's key, going to his hotel room and picking some clothes, and had just gotten back in her car when she received another car from Mark, who had somehow managed to find out where he was without waking up the person whose house he was stranded at.

When Addison arrived at the door of the house, she saw Mark standing, face pressed to the small glass window in the middle of the door, immensely relieved to see her. He opened up the door just enough that she could hand him no clothes, turned his back to the door, and put the clothes on, causing Addison to think that he had no shame. Within a minute he was out the door and into Addison's car.

"You owe me." Addison glanced over at Mark, who was trying to pretend that this whole situation hadn't happened.

"I do," he said eventually, throwing one last look back at the house where he had been stranded, a look of disgust on his face. "She was old!" Mark exclaimed suddenly, as Addison turned onto the highway, causing them both to laugh. "I mean, I was so drunk that it didn't matter much at the time, but she was old and bore an uncanny resemblance to Derek's mother, though perhaps a bit younger, and definitely less polished."

"I am going to pretend that I did not hear that," Addison said wisely. "Manwhore," she muttered under her breath, though not venomously.

Mark glared at her, pretending to be outraged, which he would have been, had he not seen some of the truth in her statement. "Am not," he said playfully. As an afterthought, he added, "Unless you want me to be."

Taking her hand off of the steering wheel, Addison reached over to slap Mark, though not terribly hard. "Not today, Mark, not today," she warned, once again reminded of all of the things that the New Year would not bring her, all of the slates that, despite her best efforts to clean them, simply refused to become clean and allow her to have a fresh start.

Without meaning to, Addison had made the atmosphere in the car a lot more serious. "I hate New Years," he muttered vehemently, and she nodded empathetically. "At least you didn't get stuck without your clothes, which, by the way, were not inexpensive ones, and I'll now have to replace. At least you didn't wake up with a massive hangover, at the house of somebody you've never met before, who looks slightly like Derek's mother."

Addison nodded. "Yeah, you did start off the new year badly. Actually, impressively badly, though admittedly I think that my last year's experience beats what happened to you. But then again, I'm biased." Last year's New Year's had been a disaster. She had wanted to spend the day with Derek, but he had avoided her at practically all costs, instead deciding to go to the hospital without telling her. After she had finally managed to track him down, he had agreed to go home for dinner, but when she tried to have a conversation with him, he told her that, though they were trying to make this work, he was being so distant because he was still in love with Meredith, and not with her. This wasn't exactly new news—he had told her this the day before Christmas too—but it still hurt a lot.

The memory of the day was enough to make Addison grimace, and Mark noticed. "I'm sorry," he told her sincerely, and he touched his hand to her shoulder briefly in a gesture of friendship. It was moments like this that made Addison remember why she liked Mark, and it was these sorts of memories she forced herself to call up when she was mad. Mark could be a jerk, and he slept with anything that moved, but he was fundamentally a good person.

There was a moment of awkward silence, before Addison resumed teasing Mark about being stranded without his clothes on, and the humility of having to actually call her to ask to be picked up. He glared at her, and told her to shut up, but none of it was meant seriously. As they got out of Addison's car at Seattle Grace, Mark having declined her offer to be dropped at his hotel, he asked Addison one thing:

"Don't tell everybody about what happened, okay?"

She gave him a devilish look. "Maybe…" she said slowly. "Depends on if you treat your interns nicely…actually, scratch that. If you'll just stop sleeping with the peds nurses who care for the babies in the NICU, I won't tell." Mark glared at her, and she glared back, preparing for a real fight. "Seriously, Mark, you wouldn't believe the questions I've been asked. I always remembered the nurses in New York to be more tactful then the ones here. The nurses in New York would have never tried to compare notes with me on their sexual experience experiences with you. I'm a professional, Mark, and I can't afford to have people asking me these sorts of questions."

Mark rolled his eyes in a childish manner. He hated how Addison somehow always managed to come back to one of two topics, one being his treatment of interns, and the other being his habit of sleeping with nurses. Was it his fault if all of the pretty ones dealt with Addison on a daily basis? It wasn't his fault there were no pretty nurses in other branches of the hospital aside from Olivia, and he had no interest in getting syphilis.

Addison sighed heavily. "Just…just don't do something I'll make you regret," she warned, and Mark smiled. Before he had time to make a cocky response, Derek invited himself to the conversation.

"Happy New Years!" he said brightly, smiling at them both. He and Addison were, if not friends, friendly. "How has it been so far?"

With a glance at Mark, who opened his eyes widely as if to say, "No!" Addison grinned. "It's been good. Mark slept with your mother."

Derek stared at Mark in utter and complete horror. "You did what with my mother?" he demanded. "You know, there was a time when she was practically your mother too." Derek took a few steps towards Mark as if to hit him, but Addison grabbed his shoulder, slightly horrified that Derek hadn't been able to realize that she was joking.

"Relax!" Addison hissed. "I was joking. Mark got stuck at a strange woman's house without any of his clothes, and I had to come pick him up. Apparently the woman he slept with looked like a slightly younger version of your mother." Both Derek and Addison cringed at the thought. Derek muttered an apology, and Mark glared at Addison before telling her that they'd talk later, and walking away in a huff. "You didn't realize that I was joking, even if the joke was in bad taste!" Addison exclaimed once Mark had walked away.

He shrugged, and tried to stop Addison from gripping his arm tightly. Embarrassed that she had forgotten to let go, Addison dropped her hand quickly, and they walked into the hospital and got into the elevator. "It's Mark, Addison. Some of us just aren't good people, and some of us have no moral standards. You should know that by now, Addison."

Addison breathed to try to calm herself down, but couldn't. It was New Years, and they were supposed to all make an effort to get along. She was friendly with Mark, and friendly with Derek, and it infuriated her that Derek was simply too pigheaded to accept one of Mark's numerous apologies. "For God's sake, Derek, grow up!" she exclaimed. "Just forgive the guy, okay? He's not perfect, but nobody is, and he's been making an effort to get you to forgive him, and you won't even listen. It's New Years, Derek, and you're supposed to at least make an effort!"

Derek sighed, but he wasn't about to back down, even for Addison's sake. "Addie, he's been with more women than anybody else I know, and if it hadn't been for him, we might just still be married." There, he had said it, what he had wanted to say for months now, what he had held in when Addison had asked him repeatedly if they wanted to talk about what went wrong. Addison had been the adult, and had been ready to discuss it, but Derek had just wanted to lay blame.

"No," Addison said softly and sadly, yet with remarkable force. She pulled the stop button on the elevator, glad that they were the only ones in it. "You can't call me Addie anymore—you can't behave like this and still call me Addie. You don't understand, do you? You never wanted to understand, just lay blame. Fine, hate the man for all I care, but do you really want to throw away all those years? You were best friends since preschool, he was your brother. Your brother, Derek. And it isn't his fault that we're not married, so give him a break. He's not my favorite person right now, but at least I'm not acting like a spoiled child!"

"You made a drunken mistake and slept with him, and when I left you stayed so that you wouldn't have to believe that you threw away our marriage," Derek yelled.

"Do you seriously believe that was it? It was simply a drunken mistake?" Addison yelled back, but continued much softer. "I was sober, Derek. I was completely sober, there was no alcohol in me, and I was lonely, and he was there, and you weren't. I was desperate, and I made a mistake, a terrible mistake, but it wasn't Mark's fault. So give it a rest, and even if you don't like him, pretend to, because it's New Years and because I need to believe that there's such a thing as a fresh start, even if it's all a lie."

Derek stared at Addison as if she had suddenly sprouted horns. "You were sober?" he finally asked. His voice wasn't angry, wasn't accusing, and was lacking almost all emotion.

"Yes, Derek, I was sober. Is it such a big shock to you, really? I never drank much until we divorced," she said bitterly.

"Why did I never know that?" he demanded, outraged. Had he known that Addison was sober, was well aware that of what she was doing when she did it, Derek might not have ever tried to make things work between them. All that he had gotten from that was confused—he didn't know what he wanted, if he wanted Addison or Meredith. Meredith was kind, and sweet, and caring, and loyal, and she loved him despite his treatment of her; Addison was the love of his life.

"You never asked, Derek," Addison replied angrily, and pushed the button on the elevator to restart it, before adding, "And it's too late to ask now." They rode the rest of the way up in silence, and when the elevator door opened, Addison walked off without even looking back at Derek. She had known there was no such thing as a fresh start, but it hurt to have it thrown in her face so rudely on New Years, a day which was supposed to be about forgiveness and fresh starts.

Simply put, Addison felt exhausted. She changed into her scrubs, checked on her patients to make sure that she was not needed to perform any last-minute surgery, and then went down to the ER, where she found Miranda helping. Addison walked to her friend, and stood quietly next to her while Miranda finished with her patient. When she was done, Bailey looked at Addison questioningly. "You okay?" she asked, her voice sounding worried.

"I'm tired," Addison said simply, her voice sad and on the verge of cracking.

Bailey raised her eyebrows. "It's seven o'clock in the morning," she pointed out, "And we both should look at the people in the ER instead of standing here talking. So, if you don't need anything, we should both go."

Addison nodded. "I don't need anything," she said, and blinked her eyes fast to keep from crying. "You're right, we should go help people, save lives, just do something, anything." She took a deep breath, wiped a tear that had escaped off her cheek, and started walking towards the door, but was pulled back by Miranda.

"Talk," Miranda said, closing the door that Addison had left open after the patient had left. Addison needed little encouragement.

"I got a call from Mark because he was at a stranger's house without his clothes, so I went to the hospital, got a spare copy of his key from his desk, went and got clothes from his room, and drove to pick him up. We came back to the hospital, and we saw Derek, and he said something about Mark, and I lost it and yelled. He couldn't get it into his head that Mark isn't a terrible person, so I told him the rest of the truth about the night when I slept with Mark. He had assumed that I was drunk, but I wasn't. And he looked at me as if…as if I had become Satan, as if I was repulsive, as if he never wanted to see me again," Addison sobbed, no longer pretending to be okay.

Miranda, in a rare display of affection, hugged Addison quickly. "It's New Years, Miranda. New Years is supposed to be about forgiveness, and friendship, and new starts," Addison said a few minutes later, once she was calm enough to speak.

Bailey looked at her incredulously. "You still love him, don't you? Despite everything you've done to try and make it not so, you still love him."

Addison nodded. "Is it that bad?" she asked softly. "At first I thought that I was just nostalgic about everything that had happened between us, that we had grown apart. I thought that the reason I couldn't get him out of my head was that I was regretful, and wishful. It's not the reason, and I wish it was. But he loves Meredith, I think, and if he's happy, that's good enough for me. And if the price I pay for making sure that he and his best friend, essentially his brother, reconcile is that he looks at me like I'm disgusting, I can live with that."

Not one for long speeches, Bailey said simply, "I'm sorry." She didn't agree with Derek's treatment of Addison, but she knew that nothing she could say right now would help. What Addison needed most right now was for somebody to tell her they were sorry and that she had done the right thing by telling Derek the truth.

"Don't be," Addison said, as she inspected her reflection in a small mirror that she had somehow managed to find, searching for any signs that she had been crying. "It's not your fault, and I'll get over it. Besides, who knows? Perhaps Derek will start acting a bit more mature from now on and maybe Mark will be sufficiently humbled by this experience to stop sleeping with my peds nurses!"

Bailey suppressed a laugh. "You should hear yourself," Bailey cautioned. "You sound like me talking to my interns!"

Addison groaned. "Whatever," she said, shaking her head. Right before they turned different directions to find ER patients who needed to be stitched up or otherwise operated on, Addison turned to Miranda again. "Thanks," she said. "You know…for being there." Bailey told her that it was no problem, and they moved on. The day passed quickly for Addison, who spent most of it doing sutures and x-rays. Around mid afternoon one of her NICU babies started crashing, and she had to perform emergency surgery on him.

The surgery was successful, and when she had finished and scrubbed herself to get clean, she found Derek waiting outside. Before she had time to open her mouth, he launched into an explanation. "You don't have to forgive me, and you don't even have to talk to me. I'll understand if you don't want to. You have to understand, though, that I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the way I treated you, and I'm sorry that I hurt you when we were married and after. And you were at least partially right about Mark, and I'll work on it. I'm willing to try, Addie—Addison," he quickly corrected himself, remembering what she had told him earlier. "I'm willing to try if you'll just give me a chance."

"I'm beyond giving you chances, Derek," Addison said, though it wasn't entirely true. "Every time I give you a chance, you hurt me." Sensing that the conversation was over, Derek turned to walk away. Addison, however, had one last thing to say. "Ask me tomorrow," she added. "You gave me a chance even after I hurt you, so just…ask me tomorrow." Derek smiled gratefully, and Addison nodded. She was weak, and she knew it—a while ago she wouldn't have given him another chance, wouldn't have allowed herself to be that vulnerable, and wouldn't have allowed herself to be so easily influenced by love and a longing desire to be accepted again. Did that make her a worse person?

If she could have a clean slate, if she could wipe away all of her past actions, would she? The answer was no, decidedly no. She had never liked people who avoided taking responsibility for their actions.

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?