Disclaimer: They're still not mine.

A/N: This is the third and last part of this series. It's slightly angsty, but I hope you'll enjoy it. Let me know what you thought :)

Three

Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd is a planner.

She's one of those people who know exactly where they'll be in five, ten or fifteen years. She knows, because it's all planned. It's all in a list in her head, and her list has been there since before she can remember. She's not one of those women who thrive on the unexpected, the surprising or the spontaneous. She's a planner.

There are three things Addison hates, and she's been having a lot of the three of them lately.

She hates it when planned things don't happen. Like her plans to have kids with Derek and grow old with him.

She hates it when unplanned things happen. Like cheating on Derek with Mark, falling in love with Mark, moving in with him and being surprisingly happy about it.

But, most of all, she hates it when planned things happen, but not the way they were supposed to happen. Like getting pregnant. With Mark's baby.

And she's close to having a panic attack right now, sitting on the toilet and staring at the three pregnancy tests in front of her. "What do I do?" And she's talking to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "What do I do? What do I do. WhatdoIdo, whatdoIdo, whatdoIdo." She's chanting the words under her breath, eyes closed and fingers rubbing her temples, trying to calm herself down.

But, really, as much as she hates having flip outs and losing control, she's pretty sure this is about the best moment for one of those. Or, at least, the moment when no one could blame her for having one.

It's not that she doesn't love Mark. She does, she loves him, and she knows he loves her too. They're happy, they have a functional relationship, and things are going great. But it's not the kind of relationship that ends up in babies, picket fences and family portraits. Someday, maybe, but not now.

Because he's Mark, and she's Addison, and they're MarkandAddison. And MarkandAddison don't have babies.

MarkandAddison laugh together, go out almost every day, have picnics at Central Park, steal kisses when they cross paths at the hospital, and screw each other silly the moment they're alone together. But they don't have babies. Because, MarkandAddison, while functional, happy and crazy about each other, are far from committed enough to have a baby.

And, individually, Mark and Addison don't have babies either.

Not Mark, the reformed manwhore who's still trying to get used to being in a relationship. Learning that a fight doesn't mean it's over, that her having a headache doesn't mean she doesn't want him anymore, that relationships aren't always easy, but that's okay. He's not father material.

And not Addison. Not this Addison, anyway. Not the one who's still married to a man who's been God knows where for the past three months and is somehow still in her mind sometimes. Not the one whose life is so far away from her plans that she sometimes wonders when exactly did she lose her grip on things. She's not mother material.

But she's pregnant. With Mark's baby. And as much as she tries to make that change by switching her low chanting from "What do I do?" to "Nonononononono", she knows it's still real. She's pregnant, she's flipping out, and Mark has a late surgery tonight. "I can't." She can't tell Mark. "I can't." She can't not tell him. "I can't." She can't have this baby. "I can't." She can't not have it.

"I can't."

She's not going to tell him. She's not going to have it. No one has to find out. She's going to deal with it, and everything is going to be okay. Eventually. Hopefully. And, somewhere between adding items #6 – "Call Savvy" – and #7 – "Make an Appointment" – to her new mental list, she drifts off to sleep, still sitting on the toilet, still rubbing her temples.

"Addie?"

His voice stirs her awake, and she smiles when she sees him looking at her from the bathroom door. "Did you fall asleep on the toilet?" He smirks, amused, and she suddenly remembers what happened. She's pregnant. And the three tests are still on the counter, but he's luckily oblivious to that. So she stands up, hoping to distract him, but of course her eyes dart briefly towards them – because that's what happens when you're trying to ignore something – and he notices and follows her gaze, his hands instantly leaving her hips.

"Is that... are you... Addison?"

And she just nods, because her life is, once again, ignoring her plan. "How did it... we were careful!" She keeps nodding, because, honestly, reminding him of the small – but real – failure rate of contraceptives doesn't seem like a good idea at the moment. He takes a step back, shaking his head, and she can't read the expression on his face when he looks at her.

"You said you were on the pill!"

She knows he's allowed to flip out. She knows she had more time to get used to the idea. But she's not going to suck it up and take the blame. "I am! Don't you dare blame me for this, Mark." He takes another step back, refusing to look at her. "I'm not doing this. I can't. I'm not doing this." And it's not that she's surprised, but it hurts to see she was right. "I'm not asking you to." He grabs his jacket from the bed where he'd thrown it minutes earlier, and starts putting it on. "Good."

He takes one last look at her, shakes his head once again, and turns around. And he's gone.

Addison doesn't bother going to bed. She knows she won't be able to fall asleep. She walks towards the living room and sits on the couch, staring at the black tv screen in front of her. She needs a new list. A new plan. Mark knows, and he – as she predicted – doesn't want to be a father. She'll make an appointment first thing tomorrow. She'll call Savvy, because she's going to need her best friend, and then she'll try to pull herself back together.

And Mark... she doesn't know. Maybe they'll work it out. Maybe they won't. Maybe this is karma's way of telling her adulterous whores don't get happy endings.

It's only 5 a.m, but she's already scrubbing in to go into surgery. It's how she copes. When you're elbow-deep in a woman's uterus, you really don't have time to worry about anything but your patient making it out of the OR alive. She wonders how he copes. He's probably at a bar, with a glass of scotch in his hand. Or running around Central Park. People do that, right? They drink or they run, and it helps them cope. But Addison hates being drunk – it makes her feel like she has no control over herself – and she hates exercising even more, so work it is.

That, she can control.

She can slice this woman's uterus open, stick her hands in it, pull her baby out, stitch her up and send her home. She can cross every step of the procedure off her mental list as she goes on. She finishes step three and hands the baby to the ped's nurse, who takes the little boy to his parents. Addison's eyes catch a red bitemark behind the nurse's ear, and she wonders how she got it. Nurse Charlene's reputation makes her think it was Dr. Nelson, the head of Pediatrics. He's married, and that makes him exactly Charlene's type. She stretches her neck for a moment before she starts suturing Mrs. Carter's uterus, her mind going back to the list and forgetting all about nurses, bitemarks and hospital gossip.

Addison walks into her office after checking on Baby Boy Carter and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper. It has the clinic's number written on it, and she looks at it as her fingertips toy with her phone. "Just make the call, Addison. Get it over with." She takes a deep breath before picking up her phone, and she's about to start dialing when it vibrates in her hand. She smiles when she reads the name that's flashing on the screen and puts the phone to her ear. "Richard?"

Thirty minutes later, she realizes her life just took another unexpected turn.

Richard – her mentor, her friend and the closest thing to a father she's ever had – needs her for a consult. And she has to say yes, because it's Richard, and she'd do anything for that man, but she's told him she needs to think about it. And she does. Because Derek is there, in Seattle, working for Richard. And he has a girlfriend. An intern. And she's not jealous, but she doesn't know if she's ready to see him with someone else just yet. She needs a new plan. Another new plan.

Call the clinic, call Savvy, get the pregnancy taken care of, fly to Seattle, save those twins, get a divorce, come back from Seattle, talk to Mark. And there's a question mark after the last item on her list. Talk to Mark? We'll see. If Derek has a girlfriend – if Indifferent Bastard gets a happy ending – maybe Adulterous Whore can get one too. Maybe. But she's not there yet. First, she has to call the clinic. She dials the first two numbers before she hears a knock on the door, followed by Mark walking into her office.

"Hey."

He doesn't look like he's spent the whole night drinking. Or running. And she wonders, yet again, how the hell does Mark Sloan cope with overwhelming stuff. How does he keep his cool, no matter what. He's wearing a small smile on his lips, and she wonders if he's high. Maybe he's on drugs, and that's why he looks so damn relaxed. Maybe he'll give her some if she asks nicely.

"What do you want?"

Nicely can come later. Right now, she's feeling many things, and none of them are even remotely nice. He closes the door behind him and takes a few steps towards her. She doesn't get up from her leather chair. Power play sounds perfectly okay at the moment. "Addie, I... I'm sorry about last night. About everything." She doesn't move a muscle. She doesn't want to make things easier for him. Not now. "I still don't think I can do this. But, if you think I can – if you think we can – then I'm in."

She doesn't think they can.

"I'm in, Addie. I'm in, and it comes with presents." He shoots her a playful smile as he hands her a plastic bag, and she has to resist the urge to whack him upside the head with the bag. Does he really think he can buy his way out of this? That somehow presents will make her feel better about this? That she'll... "Oh." She fingers the soft fabric of the Yankees onesie without pulling it out of the bag. "It's a onesie. It's cute, right? And, it's unisex. And I also bought you a calendar. So we can mark the due date and the appointments and all that stuff."

He places the bag on her desk and grabs her phone and the crumpled piece of paper, putting them both in her pocket. "Addison?" She looks at him as if she's just realized he's in the room. "I can't do this." And she leaves, ignoring him when he calls her name. Her plan still stands, but new question marks are appearing next to some of the steps. Call the clinic? Get the pregnancy taken care of?

When the first step is a question, things are far from okay.

She skips the first item on her list and calls Savvy, who meets her for lunch at the hospital an hour later. Addison has already told her she's pregnant, and she's told her she's having an abortion. Maybe. And Savvy squeezes her hand and asks her if she's told Mark, so she tells her. She tells her about the onesie and the calendar too, because she feels oddly proud of his thoughtfulness.

"That was sweet of him." Addison nods. "And that's why you're not sure if you want to do it." Another nod. "Because you think he's changed. That maybe this thing will work out." A third nod. "He's changed, Addie. I don't know exactly how much, but he has. You both have." And she smiles against her will, because she knows they have. And maybe MarkandAddison do have babies after all. Maybe Adulterous Whores get happy endings.

"I should go talk to him." And Savvy smiles at her. "Thanks, Sav."

She gives her friend a tight hug, and Savvy laughs when they pull away. "Gosh, Addie, you've had that mark for weeks. Does he always bite you on the same spot?" Addison smirks as her fingertips graze the spot behind her ear. "He does, actually. He has a thing for..." And then it clicks. "Oh." Savvy looks at her friend, a look of concern in her eyes. "Addie? Are you all right?" She fights back the nausea as the blonde's voice brings her back to reality. "Yeah. I'll... see you later." And she walks out of the cafeteria as fast as her Prada pumps allow her to.

She tries to ignore the need to vomit as she walks along the corridors, heels clicking rhythmically on the tiles under her feet. She's been wearing a red bitemark behind her left ear for weeks. The spot he loves to kiss and lick and bite. The spot he has a thing for, because he can taste her skin and smell her hair at the same time. And that mark has become so familiar that she doesn't even see it anymore when she looks in the mirror. But now, as she takes the last steps towards his office, the mark is burning her skin.

She doesn't knock.

Her eyes are closed when she opens the door, because she wants to give herself a few more seconds of blissful ignorance. There are no lists in her head right now. Just her own voice chanting a series of "Pleasepleasepleaseplease", silently begging whoever is listening her to make her be wrong about this. To make this be a freakish coincidence, that Dr. Nelson and Mark like tho bite the same spot when they're with a woman.

And then she opens her eyes.

Mark doesn't say a thing. Maybe because he knows there's nothing to say. Charlene looks down, embarrassed, and Addison knows she's just faking it. She's not embarrassed. But she guesses looking down is the right thing to do when your lover's girlfriend interrupts you in the middle of sex. She wouldn't know, she's only ever been the Adulterous Whore in this scenario. The role of Betrayed Damsel is new to her, but she's pretty sure thinking "So this is how he copes" is not exactly normal.

"I'm going to Seattle for a consult."

And she turns around and leaves, closing the door behind her. Adulterous Whores don't get happy endings, after all. She pulls her phone and the crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket as she walks towards her office, and there are finally no question marks in her list.