A/N Hopefullythis posting works and everyone who signed up for one gets an alert. I think the bug is fixed now. Sorry about the long wait - the next chapter will be a lot faster. This chapter is somewhat transitional and I struggled a bit with it, which is why it took so long to post. Last time: Alex Karev introduced the idea of getting Derek into the OR for one surgery under a hospital bylaw allowing for visitor's privileges. Could work, could be risky for his ongoing investigation. Addison went back to the hotel to talk to him, and found him with Mark, holding a newspaper...

and when I'm gone, there'll be one child born and a world to carry on

In a way, it makes perfect sense that Derek was the one who brought him the newspaper, even if he didn't know what was inside of it at the time.

The gesture felt rather like a peace offering – a callback, perhaps. Derek and Addison stopped getting a daily paper delivery a few years after they moved to the brownstone; they spent so many nights away from home that papers would pile on the front steps – attracting burglars, that's what Addison said, but Mark privately thought it was because it looked so depressing – like no one lived there. So Mark got in the habit of bringing the Times with him when he stopped by on a weekend. He'd share the paper with the two of them, or – as time went on – with whichever Shepherd was the one home at the time. Maybe it was his way of reminding them that someone did actually live there.

"I'm so sorry," Addison says quietly, still kneeling in front of him.

"It's okay. It was just a surprise. We have more important things to focus on." He reaches out to touch her face – she feels real and her skin is warm. "How's Annabel?"

"She's hanging in there. Mark," she rests her hands on his legs. "This is important too."

"It's not. My father has been gone as far as I'm concerned for years." He folds the paper and holds it out to her. "Here, want to read all the glowing words about him?"

"I do," she takes the paper from him, "I will, but not right now."

She replaces the paper in his lap with her own body, settling on his thighs and holding him close.

"Addison…"

She's running her fingers along his scalp. Her warmth molds to his; after a moment he lifts his arms and wraps them around her.

The morning started out – can a morning be good when your daughter is lying in a hospital bed waiting for a lifesaving surgery? If it can, it's because you have another child, one who woke up chatty and cheerful, full of life after his middle of the night meltdown, with enough energy and innocence for both of you. Max was up before six, as usual, and Mark took him to the greenspace on the hotel's roof to run off some energy. There, Max raced in joyful circles like a wild animal recently freed from his cage while Mark drank enough coffee to chase him around a few times. Amy was awake when they got downstairs, looking like a few miles of bad road and already working, limbs folded up under her, wearing headphones. Mark got himself and Max cleaned up and ready for the day, confirmed that Derek was on the way with his family, and even with the undercurrent of fear that never left since he first learned Annabel's diagnosis, he was feeling productive and almost satisfied by the time he heard the first knock on the door.

"Meredith." She's holding Thomas on her hip, and he doesn't see Derek with her.

"Hi." She shifts the large diaper bag over her arm. "He's right behind us," she says, apparently reading his expression. "We took separate cars, so that …"

…so that she can go freely to the hospital where Derek is banned. Mark swallows the guilt of that.

"Hey, Thomas," he says. "Someone is going to be very excited to see you."

"Thomas!" Max bolts out of his bedroom, where he has been fixing the dinosaurs Amy left akimbo on the bed. "Come and play!"

Thomas beams when he sees Max, and wriggles to get down from his mother's arms. Meredith and Amy are discussing whatever Amy has been jotting notes about when there's another knock on the door.

"I thought you were right behind us," Meredith is pouring a mug of coffee, which she hands to Derek.

"I was." He kisses her and takes the coffee. "I stopped to buy the paper." He indicates the New York Times under his arm.

"You stopped to buy the paper." Meredith raises an eyebrow.

Derek holds the newspaper out to Mark.

"Thanks."

Derek nods at him in response, almost smiling. "This coffee is unpalatable."

"True," Amy calls from her spot. "But at least it's free."

"Thanks a lot," and Mark shakes out the paper, settling down in the free captain's chair, with studied neutrality. The Sunday Times in a room that smells of coffee. It's almost normal. He's always flipped through the Times in the same order before he decides what to read first: front page, metro section, sports, obits, op eds. It's not an order that makes sense to anyone else but him, but it's tradition.

"I think the coffee's fine," Meredith's voice sounds like she's smiling.

His hand stills on the paper

"There's a Beans in the lobby. It can't be worse than this. Want to go?"

Grey ink stains his thumb.

"Mark?" Amy's voice, but it sounds like it's coming from far away. "We're only kidding, why are you-"

"I'm sorry I wasn't here." He can feel her face moving against his skull as she speaks. She's pulled her legs up to fit with him on the captain's chair; it works enough that she's closely pressed against him, and he can hear her heartbeat through her shirt.

"It's okay."

"I'm glad you weren't alone, though."

He wasn't. It was Derek who realized first, and then in seeming seconds, Meredith had corralled both kids and Amy and left the hotel suite. And then it was just Mark and Derek.

"It really is fine, Addie." He lifts his head up, looks into her wide, sad eyes. "I just wasn't expecting it, and the timing … "

Of all the timing in the world.

"I just needed a minute," he assures her.

"Mark…"

He kisses her, then eases her off his lap so he can stand up, stretch his stiff muscles. It can't have been that long, but he feels like he's been sitting for hours. Years, even.

"You had a folder with you," he realizes suddenly.

Addison nods, just slightly, and he knows from the tilt of her head that Annabel has had another seizure. "Derek took the folder with him," she says quietly.

Another twenty four hours until they can operate. He's seized with an urge to see his daughter.

Addison touches his arm and he looks at her. "I think there might be a way to get Derek into the OR. Not alone," she adds, "but with the others. All three of them."

"All three of them." Isn't that the ideal scenario? Brain, skills, and nerve?

He listens to her set out the plan.

"Distinguished Visitor Exception." He swallows a mouthful from the coffee cup on the table; it's gone cold.

"We need Richard's signoff. And legal's." She takes the cup from him, pours it out in the sink and refills it with hot coffee.

"You think it'll work?" The hot coffee feels warming and welcome in his throat.

"I don't know." She props her hips against the counter. "And I don't know how it will look for Derek's NatMed investigation."

He nods. It's – what was the word Addison said the other doctor used? Sleazy.

"Is it unfair, to ask him?"

Addison's question hangs in the air for a moment, unanswered. Before he can respond, he hears the click of a key card and the front door opens wide.

Thomas pokes his smiling face in first. He's holding one of Meredith's hands and Max the other. "Mommy!" Max runs to her; she stands up to catch him for a hug.

"We had breakfast downstairs and it was really fun. Daddy wasn't hungry. But we were."

Amy, who looks relieved that it's over, follows them in. He watches Addison smooth Max's hair and then set him back on his feet.

"Daddy." Max tugs on his hand, gazing up at him. "We brought you some food too."

"You did? That was nice of you, buddy, thank you." Mark smiles down at his son.

He's perfect, from the little freckles scattered across his nose to the slight milk mustache above his upper lip. He tries to imagine what it would be like not to talk to him. To distance himself. Not to care. But the idea is too foreign. He went alone to AOPS last year so the kids could stay in school and he felt their nightly skype calls like a physical ache, needed the emails from Ida and Addison so he didn't miss the funny things they did and said. And that was just three nights.

Three nights versus a lifetime.

He picks Max up to hold him close.

"Too tight!" Max wriggles, pulling away and resting an elbow on his father's shoulder. "Guess what, 'melia said two bad words at breakfast." He points to Amy, beaming.

"Why doesn't that surprise me? And hey," he taps Max's little nose, "you're four. That's 'Dr. Shepherd' to you."

"She's not Dr. Shepherd," Max says indignantly. "Dr. Shepherd is a boy."

"She's another Dr. Shepherd. They're brother and sister, so they're both named Shepherd, just like you and Annabel are both named Sloan."

Max wrinkles his nose. "No, I don't think so."

"So young and yet so wise." Amy smiles breezily. "He can call me whatever he wants – whatever you want, fine," she says off Mark's frown.

Mark sets Max down with a kiss to the top of his sandy blond head, and he trots to his mother to finish regaling her with stories of what she's missed.

"She slept in my bed last night," Max tells Addison happily, "Dr. Girl Shepherd did, but I wasn't in it, I was in your bed, but you weren't in that one."

Addison shoots Mark an amused look. "I think Amy deserves her own room for her services. I'll call downstairs."

"Whatever." Amy shrugs. "I was just getting used to the bubblegum toothpaste and seven thousand tiny train tracks, though."

Mark stands still amidst the chatter, gathering himself for a moment.

"I showed Thomas how to blow bubbles in his milk!" Max, who is apparently not done sharing news, announces proudly.

"I spill," Thomas pipes up cheerfully, pointing to a large wet spot on his little green shirt. "Wet, see?"

"Sorry about that," Addison says to Meredith, who looks amused as Thomas holds the damp material of his shirt out again proudly.

"That's okay, Mommy carries multiple wardrobe changes. C'mere, sweetie, let's get you cleaned up."

"Is Daddy sad?" Max asks then, sotto voce.

"He's fine, sweetheart," Addison says, for which Mark is grateful, and adds, "but you can give him some extra hugs anyway."

Max seems happy to oblige and a moment later Mark has his arms full of energetic four-year-old again.

Addison and Amy head off in opposite directions to freshen up; with Meredith in Max's room changing Thomas and, from the sound of it, being enticed into a game of trains, it's just Mark and Derek in the living area.

Mark swallows, hard, before he speaks. "Thanks," he says, "for before."

"I didn't really do anything." Derek glances briefly at him. "But you're welcome."

"What are you all dressed up for?" His father doesn't sound like he's really interested in the answer, but it's still nice to be asked. And it's nice when his father's home, and there are voices in the house. It seems too big when both his parents are gone, and his mother hasn't been home in a while.

"Church." He hesitates. "Um, for the … funeral." There was a note from the school, but he's not sure they ever opened it. He decides to press his luck. "Do you think I could have a ride, maybe…"

"Can't, sorry. Waiting for my car to the airport."

"You're leaving?" He tries to make his voice sound casual, like the answer doesn't matter either way. Kind of like how his dad sounds when he talks to him.

"Heading out of town for a while. These deals don't make themselves, you know that."

"Yeah." Mark smiles nervously. "Do you know if Mom will be back soon, or-"

"Your guess is as good as mine." His father stands up, folding up his newspaper. "You should be thrilled to get some peace and quiet. I would have killed for an empty house at your age. Bring some friends over … maybe some girls … raid the liquor cabinet."

Mark knows the way to St. Sebastian's, he's been there a bunch of times with Derek's family, but the walk feels long in his good shoes. They're stiff, not like sneakers. He wishes he'd worn his sneakers instead. It's chilly and the wind makes his eyes tear and his face feel raw. A half-mile outside of town he has to stop and try to push the edge of his socks down; his good shoes are biting into his feet. There's a wet spot on the back of his sock – blood. He wipes his hands off on the cuff of his other sock.

He gets to the church and it's dark after walking all that way outside; he has to squint for a minute. Everyone looks sad. He looks around. There are other kids there he recognizes from school and little league, also looking uncomfortable in church clothes, but they're with their parents. He walks in by himself, not sure where to sit and then Derek's mom says "Mark," and she holds his face for a minute looking real sad and then she points so he sits down on the bench with its dusty smelling cushions. They're all lined up there like it's a regular Sunday, Amy on Lizzie's lap sucking her thumb. Derek only looks at him for a second but then moves his hand and grabs Mark's hand and squeezes. Mark's foot stops hurting and he's glad he walked; he knows he's sitting in the right place now and he squeezes back, hard.

Mark exhales, hard. "He was a bastard."

"He was still your father," Derek says.

"He was. But mostly he was a bastard." Mark dries one of the mugs with a blue and white towel, focusing hard on the porcelain. "Black Irish bastard. That was one of the nicer things my mother used to call him."

Derek is just watching him, not saying anything.

Mark dries his hands and picks up the folded paper from the table where Addison left it. Carefully, he tears out the page with the obituary. The picture is black and white, but the thatch of dark hair is unmistakable. Mark was all Everett, that's what his father used to say disparagingly, with his mother's fair coloring.

"You didn't really see him much," Mark says to Derek, still looking at the obituary. "He was never around, and I was always at your place."

Derek glances at him, then moves close enough to look at the obituary in his hands.

"Your father had dark hair," he says quietly.

Mark nods.

"And so does your daughter," Derek is still looking at the picture; Mark can't see his eyes.

"So does my daughter." Mark folds the obituary back up, tucks it into his pocket.

"I'm sorry," Derek says quietly, so quietly Mark almost doesn't hear him.

"It's okay. Really. He's been gone to me for years."

"Not for him. For her. For … this," and his chin moves in the direction of the cluttered living area, the neuroanatomy model, the piles of books and papers.

Mark considers what to say, but then their eyes meet and he realizes he doesn't have to say anything at all.

"Addison has an idea," he says finally, "to get you into the OR. Just for the procedure."

Derek raises his eyebrows.

With a relatively clean and dry Max and Thomas occupied in the bedroom with Conductor Bob, the five adults – because Amy is an adult – discuss the plan.

"It could be risky." Addison glances at Derek. "The investigation…"

"I'm in. Get me the paperwork." He's looking at Addison; Mark can't see his expression.

Addison pauses. "Maybe you want to take a little bit of time-"

"There is no time," Derek interrupts her.

"We're accepting the risk," Meredith says, and Mark sees that her hand is clasped with Derek's.

"Are you sure-"

"We're sure."

"If we can't operate before 9 a.m. Houston time, the DVE isn't going to work." Addison glances nervously at Mark. "No more seizures. We can't afford the time."

"No more seizures," Amy says firmly. "I have an idea – " she glances at Meredith. "Well, we had an idea, so we're going with you to the hospital to see if we can make it happen."

Derek nods. "I'll run a model with the new scans."

"I'm going to try to get signoff on the DVE paperwork." Addison is gathering materials from the table. "Mark, you'll stay with Annabel?"

He nods, and then all four parents glance toward the open doorway of the children's bedroom.

"Teri's off today and she couldn't change her schedule. And Derek needs to be able to focus on the modeling. So … hospital daycare for the little guys? Playroom," Meredith adds. "Thomas isn't signed up for Sundays but it hasn't been a problem to squeeze him in on occasion."

"That works."

"Unless Amelia wants to baby-sit." Meredith and Amy exchange an amused glance.

"Amelia?" Derek raises his eyebrows.

"It's my name."

"Since when?"

"Since birth? No one calls me Amy anymore."

"We call you Amy."

"Meredith calls me Amelia."

"Mer?" Derek glances at her.

"That's how she introduced herself to me." Meredith shrugs. "Didn't we learn that first day of clinicals? Patient says his name is Bozo, you call him Bozo."

Amy's brow furrows. "I can't tell whose side you're on with that."

"That," Meredith says deliberately, "is because I'm not taking a side. I'm just stating a fact."

"Oh, she's on my side," Derek assures Amy.

Meredith seems to be fighting a smile.

"If you can pull this off, we'll call all you whatever you want," Mark assures her.

"Oh, I'm going to pull it off." Amy shrugs into her jacket. "So get ready to call me Marie freakin' Curie."

…

Amy stops before they reach the entrance of the hospital and looks from Mark to Addison. "We have to wake her up," she says bluntly.

"We think the best course is to decrease the sedation while we increase the anti-seizure meds," Meredith's tone is calm, and there's something about her voice that compels trust even as she shifts the chatty toddler on her hip. "which does carry its own risks, but…"

"But it's the best chance we have to get through 24 hours," Amy interrupts.

"Okay." Addison glances at Mark, who nods. "Okay," she says again.

Addison takes both boys to the playroom while Mark, Meredith and Amy head for Annabel's room.

Amy's already called in the med changes; Annabel is starting to wake up when they get to her room, sleepily answering Meredith's mental status questions while an intern jots notes.

"Good girl. Who's this?"

"Panda." Annabel's voice is soft and hoarse, one small hand resting on her panda-shaped travel pillow, tucked into bed with her.

"Good job."

Annabel's blue eyes move around the room; Mark strokes her hair. "Where's Dr. Shepherd?" she asks.

"He's not here today," Meredith says.

"When's he coming back?"

"I'm not really sure yet, Annabel. But we have lots of people here to take care of you until he gets back."

"Will you see him?"

She smiles at Annabel. "I will."

"Then can you tell him something for me? Can you tell him octopus, thirsty, chair."

Mark's throat feels tight.

"Tell him, I remembered, okay?"

"I'll tell him. I promise," Meredith says, and when she glances at Mark her eyes look very bright.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Mark sits down beside Annabel, taking her little hand in his.

"Hi." She wriggles a bit, maybe trying to get comfortable, more alert than he's seen her in a while.

"How are you feeling, Bel?"

"Good," but her voice sounds small and a little gravely, like she hasn't been using it much. "Can I get up?"

"Not yet, babe. You still have these monitors on you that are helping the doctors know how to make you feel better," Mark touches one one the back of her hand, lightly. "But we can sit you up some more – how about that?"

They adjust the bed and with Annabel propped up she already starts to look more like herself. Her eyes that have been so sleepy, mostly sedated, since her arrival in Seattle, have already started to gain some of their old life back.

"Am I still going to have an operation?"

"Yes." He glances at the seizure clock on the wall. "Tomorrow morning. That's the plan." He smiles at her.

"Will Dr. Shepherd be there?"

"We hope so." Mark tucks a lock of her silky dark hear behind her ear. "And we have another Dr. Shepherd here just in case." He gestures toward Amy.

"Daddy?"

He looks down at Annabel, waiting for another question that could break his heart.

"Can we play Go Fish?"

He smiles at her, but before he can answer Addison appears in the doorway with a worried look, Thomas and Max each holding on to one of her hands.

"There's no room in the playroom."

"Let me see what I can do." Meredith offers. "Do you mind…"

"Of course not. I'll watch him."

Thomas bursts into tears when Meredith leaves.

Amy raises her eyebrows. "I'll just … I'm going to go check on some charts."

Addison picks Thomas up to soothe him and Max, whose magnanimity toward the other little boy apparently doesn't extend indefinitely, wraps an arm possessively around his mother's leg and scowls.

Annabel whimpers softly. "Too loud."

Mark ushers the rest of them out the door, Max clinging to Addison and Thomas still crying into her shoulder.

"Daddy?" Annabel calls from inside her room.

"I'm coming, Bel."

There are tears in Addison's eyes. "What are we going to do?"

"We'll figure something out," he assures her, but his stomach is sinking. He can't leave Annabel, not when she's awake, but her room is no place for two little boys, one of whom is working his way up to a tantrum. They can't stay with Addison, who's explained that she needs most if not all of the day to secure the signatures necessary for the DVE.

He closes his eyes briefly. When sees the figure walking down the hall toward them he thinks for a moment he forgot to open them. Or that he's hallucinating.

"Addie," he nudges her, gesturing and when she freezes he thinks it must not be a mirage.

What really convinces him, though, is when Max forgets all the rules about hospitals and shrieks with joy.

TBC... reviews are warmly welcomed and always appreciated. Next time: who's there, can Meredith and Amelia keep Annabel from seizing, and can Addison, Karev, and Callie get the DVE paperwork signed and Derek into the OR before 9 a.m.?

Title lyric from Laura Nyro's "And When I Die"