A/N: In the interest of posting more and fretting less, here's the next chapter. Thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing, especially the anonymous reviewers, because I can't reply to you directly! Please keep it up - it helps me write faster. And if you haven't reviewed yet but you've been reading, I'd love it if you dropped in to give some feedback!
Please be aware that small portions of this chapter contains references to child abuse. There's nothing explicit or even direct, but I'm warning you anyway in case any readers find the allusions triggering. My intention is to treat the issue with the gravity it deserves. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me.
and you are still young but you'll understand that the stars of the sea are the same for the land
Mark stands up as soon as she steps back into Annabel's room, phone in her hand
"The Captain thinks he can help us." She looks at her husband with wonder. "But he, um … he wants to fly out here."
Mark's eyes widen in response. "Addie," he begins, but then Annabel's voice calls out from the bed.
"Mom?"
"I'm right here." She crosses the room to lean over her daughter, stroking her dark hair gently away from her face. "I'm going to say good night now, okay? Daddy's going to be here all night. And I'm going to see you first thing in the morning."
"Okay," Annabel says hoarsely.
"The more you rest, the faster you'll feel better." She leans forward to kiss her smooth little forehead and then touches one soft cheek, slightly puffy under her fingers, but warm and alive. "Good night, sleep tight, see you in the morning light."
Annabel smiles, eyes drifting shut.
"He's flying out here?" Mark asks quietly as soon as she straightens up. "Your father."
"I know." Addison touches the necklace at her throat nervously. "I can't … I don't even know what to say about it. And Annabel, and…"
"Addie." Mark wraps her in his arms when he sees the tears in her eyes. "She's doing so well."
"But he's flying out here." Addison shakes her head. She hasn't exchanged a word with her parents since that last disastrous call when she was pregnant with Annabel. Other than a quick nod of acknowledgement at Archer's funeral, she hasn't set eyes on them in longer than that.
"You need to sleep," Mark says gently, kissing the top of her head. "Maybe it will make more sense in the morning."
"I doubt that."
"Well, take your own advice, like you said to Bel. And, besides, Max needs you."
She draws back, smiling faintly. "You know, you're not as subtle as you think you are."
"Who says I think I'm subtle?" He frames her face in his hands. "I love you. I'll text you with any changes, I promise. And you text me if I should be looking out for any jets in the sky."
She exhales shakily. "His secretary is going to call when his plans are finalized."
"Okay. So go get our son before Amy corrupts him completely."
"Text me if-"
"If anything changes. And updates every hour. I know."
"I love you," she says softly.
"I know that too." He indicates the door with his chin. "Go."
..
"We're going to go right to bed because it's very late," she coaches Max before they get to the hotel. He floods her with questions anyway.
"How come Dr. Girl-Shepherd doesn't have her own house?"
Addison smiles at her son. "She does, but not here in Seattle. She lives somewhere else, like we do."
"Where?"
"In Boston."
"Where's that?"
"Not too far from home. Remember, we went before Thanksgiving last year, and we visited Fenway Park?" Addison was speaking at Harvard and they brought both kids, mainly so Mark could imbue them with yet more Yankee propaganda. That and swim in the hotel pool, always a highlight of any speaking engagement.
"Yeah," Max says thoughtfully. "So that's why she lives in the hospital? And sometimes in my room?"
"Well, that, and she's been helping us get your sister all better."
He doesn't protest, but doesn't help much either, as she gets him ready for bed. He can do much more of the process on his own, but she's not going to push it. Not when they've uprooted his entire life over the last week, and not when it's already more than an hour past his normal bedtime.
"When is Annabel coming home?" he asks, resting a hand on her shoulder as she kneels in front of him to help him into his pajamas. "I mean, coming here?"
"Soon," she says carefully. "Probably about a week, but you'll see her before then. Go pick out a book, sweetheart, it's late."
He pads over to his bookshelves, returning with a much-worn copy of Where the Wild Things Are.
"I wish we were all here," he says thoughtfully as he climbs onto the bed, and she feels tears stinging the backs of her eyes.
"Me too, sweetie." She strokes his hair. "Ready to read now?"
"Yeah."
"Then come here, you wild thing." She holds out her arms, and he crawls into them.
It's been a long day. Max is asleep before she gets to the end of the book, breathing noisily against her.
..
It takes her a long time to fall asleep, even with the warm weight of her son cuddled next to her. Images flit through her mind in no real order. Spinning on the high stool in her father's lab, metal cold through her sundress, waiting for him to finish meeting with students – always female students. Waiting for ice cream cones that never came while the Captain exacted another promise not to tell her mother about the hour he spent locked in his office with his secretary. Or his nurse. Or Addie's French tutor. The smell of tennis balls and sneaker leather when she caught him with one of her former classmates. Heather's feathered blonde hair turns into Savvy's and then Sloan's long, blonde hair and then the Captain's light hair turns into Mark's father's black, wavy hair.
Instead of counting sheep, she counts the ways in which her life has turned upside down in less than two weeks: Annabel's diagnosis. Reestablishing contact with Derek. Picking up and flying the whole family across the country. The test. The investigation. Amy, a surgeon now instead of a baby sister. Derek's new wife, leading the surgical team that saved her daughter's life. Savvy. Mark's father. Mark's daughter – she has to take a moment for that one, still unexplored. And now the Captain.
Then she's on the sailboat again, bobbing gently in the water, and Archie's whispering instructions in her ear even though the Captain's not even watching, and her eyes are growing heavy.
Lyman Stockton.
She hasn't thought about that name in years.
"The Stocktons and the Lathams will arrive at six for cocktails." Bizzy's wearing a string of pearls around her neck with a diamond in the middle, giving instructions to the maid and one of the butlers. The necklace is pretty, but it's not Addie's favorite. She likes the one that looks like a glittery sunburst. "You'll have to wait until I'm dead for that one, dear, but at least you have good taste." That's what Bizzy always says when she catches Addison looking at it.
"And then the Rutherfords -" Bizzy stops, noticing her in the archway outside the parlor. "Addison. Go change into something appropriate, please, and have Nanny fix your hair."
Bizzy never calls any of the nannies by their names. Secretly, Addie and Archer thinks it's because she can't keep up with all of them.
"Am I invited to the party?" Addie asks.
"Don't be silly. But I expect you to come downstairs to greet our guests. And not looking like you've just rolled in the mud."
"What time are the-" Addie starts to push her luck with one more question. Bizzy really doesn't like when she asks too many things.
"Addison, I don't have time for your questions right now. Go and find Nanny, dear." Bizzy frowns. "Where is she, anyway? We're not paying her for you to be underfoot when I'm busy."
"She's with Archer," Addie says quickly, her heart thumping. Bizzy can't be mad at Nanny Arlene. A mad Bizzy is the first step to a fired nanny. "She doesn't know I came down here."
"I'm supposed to change into something appropriate so I can greet Bizzy's guests," Addie announces to Nanny Arlene, who's hanging up Archer's school uniform while he sits on the rug and pages through what looks like his math book.
"You're seven," Nanny Arlene says it quietly, like she doesn't want Addie to hear, but Addie has very good hearing. She likes to know what people are saying. She already knows how old she is, though.
"All right, Addie." Nanny Arlene says in her regular voice, and then smiles at her. "You want to go pick out a dress, sunshine? I'll come help you in a minute."
Addie stands in her closet looking at the long row of dresses. They're arranged from least to most fancy on puffy pink satin hangers; Bizzy likes order. There's one empty hanger where the blue dress with the little white collar used to hang. She balled that one up in the back of the wardrobe. She chooses a yellow one instead, with daisies embroidered on the sash. It's bright like sunshine.
Nanny Arlene brushes her hair nice and slow, so the tangles don't even hurt, and pulls it back with a yellow ribbon. She's kneeling in front of Addie, straightening her dress, and Addie rests her hands on her nanny's shoulders. She could say something. Nanny Arlene always listens to her. Sometimes she even says "children should be seen AND heard," which is funny because that's not how it really goes.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"…nothing," Addie says after a moment.
She sits up in bed with her heart pounding, pushing sweaty hair out of her eyes. She can't remember what she dreamed.
Max is still curled next to her, fast asleep, his sandy bangs sticking up around his face. She strokes his hair as she takes deep breaths, willing herself to calm down.
She wakes up three more times before dawn. Max, maybe sensing her unease, clings more than usual as she readies them both for the day. They pack books, clothes, and toys for Annabel, and fresh clothes for Mark. She spends some time at the vanity, Max insisting on sitting on her knee, applying careful makeup to cover the shadows under her eyes. Still, she looks drawn. She frowns at her reflection.
Mark frowns, too, when he sees her.
"What kind of reaction is that?" she asks lightly, kissing him in the hospital lobby with Max still on her hip.
"You look exhausted."
"I'm not," she says shortly.
He touches her cheek. "What's wrong, Addie?"
"Nothing."
"You didn't sleep well?"
"I slept okay." He knows her face too well. Setting Max down on the ground, she smiles at him.
"Was Max on kick patrol again? You know he-"
"I said I slept fine, Mark."
He looks at her curiously.
"Addison … did something happen with your father?"
"No. Not since I called him."
He studies her face. "You didn't hear anything else, or…?"
"No. You should spend some time with Max." She strokes the top of her son's head. "I'm going to go see Annabel."
She doesn't turn around, but she can tell he's watching her as she walks away.
..
"Addison, talk to me."
She's pacing in front of him, the phone still warm in her hands. "I just told you. He's taking the jet and he lands at Boeing Field just after eight tonight."
"That's not exactly what I meant, but – okay. That's soon," Mark says.
"His assistant has already arranged for a car and driver."
"Addison."
"And of course she booked him into our hotel." With a short, sharp laugh she runs her hand through her hair.
"Addison."
She stops pacing. "What?"
"Just – can you come sit down, please?"
"I don't have time. Meredith wants to talk to me about the latest post-op report."
"Did you tell her-"
"No. I want to know what he can do for Derek before I get their hopes up. And he apparently wants to … fly out here before he tells us what he can do."
She's not sure why he insisted on flying out to Seattle today; the panel isn't expected to arrive until Wednesday at the earliest. Then again, the Captain has never been particularly forthcoming – why should this be any different?
Ida arrives with Max before they can explore the issue further. Mark picks him up and turns him upside down, to Max's delight, and Addison just stands with Ida for a moment, drinking in her comforting presence.
What she's really hoping, even if it's dumb, is that Nanny Arlene will stay forever. Like real family – not "hired help," like Bizzy said once when Addie didn't want to leave Nanny Arlene to come downstairs and shake hands during one of her parties. Bizzy said, "Please excuse my daughter, she prefers the hired help," and Mrs. Stockton and Mrs. Rutherford both laughed. Bizzy was wrong though, that wasn't why, it was because Mr. Rutherford was there too and she doesn't like it when he - but it doesn't matter because she can't tell him to stop; that's not polite.
She can't tell Archie, because he might do something and get them both in trouble. He hit that mean Polly back – for her. And when he found about Missy Talbot teasing her on the playground he cornered her at the club and told her if she ever bothered his sister again he'd cut off her ponytail. Archie's really brave, but still … Polly's just a nanny, and Missy's just a little girl like Addie. Mr. Rutherford is a grownup, and that's different.
"Addison. Mr. Rutherford asked you a question."
"Sorry," she gulps at her mother's voice. "What … I mean, pardon?" She grips the tray of canapés hard so it doesn't shake. Archie's at his tennis lesson this time and she wishes he could be there too, to make funny faces at her across the room. That always makes her feel a little better.
"I was just asking how you're enjoying school this year, Addison. You know, my daughter went to Britteridge as well. It's a fine institution."
"At least until they're old enough for boarding school," Mrs. Latham says, and the other women chuckle.
They're all looking at Addie now, waiting for her to answer. Her mouth feels dry. "I like school," she whispers. Actually, she wishes she could be at school right now.
"Speak up, dear," Bizzy says, and then Addie hears her talking quietly to Mrs. Stockton over her head. "All those elocution lessons and she still mumbles. It's not as if she's going to get by on her…other attributes."
"I'm enjoying school this year," Addie tries again, louder this time, staring at the canapés on her tray and hoping her mother won't notice she's not making eye contact. Her mary janes feel too stiff on her feet and her white tights are itchy, but she doesn't dare try to scratch her leg.
"Come now, she's a lovely little girl," Mrs. Stockton is saying to Bizzy over her head. "The freckles will fade when she gets older, won't they, Bizzy, dear?"
"We certainly hope so." They both laugh, and then Bizzy tells her to "run along, Addison," in her regular voice.
One of the maids swoops in and takes the tray from her hands so she can leave.
She's walking down the hall as fast as she can without getting in trouble for running when she hears footsteps behind her.
"Addison!" Mr. Rutherford gives her a big smile like he's surprised to see her there, and then holds up his empty lowball glass. "Looks like I need a refill. In here, is that right?" He gestures through the wooden swinging doors.
Addie takes a step back. "No, that's the cook's kitchen. The drinks are out there where you were before."
"You're such a smart girl. Can't get anything past you. But actually, I was looking for the kitchen too, so I can get another one of those splendid canapés. Can you show me where they are?"
Addie hesitates. She's not supposed to be rude, but she also really doesn't want to go with him. He just holds his hand out to her, waiting.
When Addie's real quiet at bedtime Nanny Arlene says, "what's the matter, sunshine?" and Addie says, "nothing."
Even though grownups are allowed to tell other grownups not to do stuff, and even though Nanny Arlene always listens to her, she can't tell her. She might get into trouble, and it's important that she's very, very good – good enough that Nanny Arlene will want to stay with them forever.
She didn't stay with them forever, but Addison never told anyone. She told herself that it wasn't that bad, relatively speaking – and considered it confirmed after her pediatric OB/GYN rotation – so there was no reason to dredge up ancient history.
"Addison? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She touches her forehead with her fingers. "Just a little tired, sorry." Actually she has a headache growing behind her eyes; it feels overly warm in the hallway and her shoes feel stiff. Max is leaning against her legs.
"Okay." Meredith smiles at her. "So the plan-"
"Mommy." Max tugs on her skirt. "Can we go play outside?"
"Just a minute, sweetie, Mommy's talking to Dr. Grey right now." She strokes the top of his head.
"Meredith, I'm sorry. Go on."
"I want to get the catheter out today, I think she's ready to-"
She feels Max's little fingers tug her skirt again. "But, Mommy, I want-"
"No, Max. Stop it, please." She detaches his hand gently. "Just wait quietly for a minute so I can hear Dr. Grey and then you can talk to me."
She tries to focus on what Meredith is saying, but there's growing pressure in her skull as the headache intensifies.
"So, we're going to go ahead and remove the catheter," Meredith is explaining. "And the EVD-"
"Mommy!" Max is pulling on her skirt again. "I think I left my-"
"Max, honey, I told you that you need to wait."
"Do you want to-" Meredith gestures at Max.
"No, it's fine, I'm sorry. Mark should be back in a minute."
"I'll be quick." Meredith gives her an understanding smile. "You know the procedure was MRI-guided, but we still need to run a confirmatory scan, so the plan-"
"Can I go outside now? Mommy, you said-"
"Max, would you just be quiet!"
He freezes when she snaps at him, blue eyes round and almost instantly filled with tears. Addison feels as shocked as he looks.
"Max," she says weakly, the expression on his face breaking her heart.
She recognizes his indrawn breath that precedes wailing, his little face starting to screw up with misery, but before he can make a sound Mark, materializing without warning, has scooped him up and headed down the hallway with his son in his arms. He's moving fast, but not so fast that she can't hear the moment Max's cries become vocal.
She draws a shaking hand to her face. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I… I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Meredith says gently. "You have a lot going on."
"It's not fine, I don't… I mean, we don't…do that." She takes a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair, trying to calm herself. "We don't do that." Tears fill her eyes.
"No one's perfect all the time. You're the experienced mom, you must know that." Meredith adds when Addison doesn't respond.
She glances at Meredith. "Yeah, well, I didn't exactly have role models. We had to put the whole thing together ourselves."
It's more honest than she's been about her parenting with anyone other than Mark. But Meredith doesn't look horrified, judgmental - or even particularly surprised.
"I guess I've made it pretty clear I have some mother issues," Addison admits, brushing at the tears that are threatening to spill down her cheeks.
"You're not alone there." Meredith smiles ruefully. "My mother … never wanted children."
Addison nods. "My mother pretty much let the nannies raise me. Well, she stopped in every once in a while to fuck with my head. …sorry," she says automatically, but Meredith shrugs it off.
"I didn't want to have biological children," Meredith says finally. "And it's not because of my mother's health problems. I think a part of me was worried that being pregnant would turn me into my mother."
Addison looks at her for a moment. "But being a mother hasn't."
"No, it hasn't." She smiles slightly. "When they put Thomas in my arms for the first time, I felt like all that mama bear stuff actually made sense. Like someone had activated a chip inside my brain. From that moment, I would have done anything to protect him."
Addison nods. The sentiment is familiar.
"I guess maybe some people are just … missing that chip," Meredith muses.
"So then maybe it's not about biology at all."
Meredith gives her a sideways glance. "Maybe you're right."
For a long moment they just look at each other.
"Did you want me to finish with the…" Meredith gestures, encompassing the conversation they were having about Annabel before her outburst.
"Oh. Yes, please."
..
She finds Mark and Max in the outdoor cafeteria. She's so accustomed to thinking along the same lines as her husband that it didn't occur to her to call or text to find out where they were. She just … walked, and led herself right to them.
"Hey." She's a little embarrassed as she approaches; Mark just holds out an arm and she slides in next to him on the wrought-iron bench.
"Hey." He brushes some of her hair back. "You want to talk about it?"
She sits up, facing him. "That's not … what I'm usually like when you're not there."
"I know it's not. Don't be so hard on yourself." He nods toward their son. "He forgot all about it after his second bite of ice cream."
Addison observes their son for a second; he's sitting cross-legged in a wrought iron chair a few feet away with a small rubber dinosaur in each hand, staging what looks like either a fight or some kind of complex dance routine on top of the adjoining table. There's an empty ice cream cup next to the dinosaurs, the kind with the little wooden stick instead of a spoon.
"We probably shouldn't give him so much ice cream," Addison muses.
"Well, we have to bribe him with something, and he's too young to want the car keys." Mark touches her cheek. "Addie, it's okay. What is it?" he prompts when she doesn't meet his eyes.
"You … took him away so fast," she says quietly, fixing her gaze on the horizon.
"He was three seconds from a DEFCON 2 fit."
She doesn't answer.
"Addison. Look at me?"
She drags her eyes to meet his.
"It was fast," she says again. "Like you thought I … shouldn't be near him or something."
"No, I took him away because he was upset and because you were trying to listen to Meredith tell you about Annabel and because, even though I don't think snapping at him is a great habit, he was actually being kind of obnoxious," he says calmly. "And I knew you would be upset too. But I didn't think you would let me carry you out of there and bribe you with ice cream. Although I can do that next time if you'd prefer."
She smiles a little bit in spite of herself.
"I'm … nervous about the Captain," she admits.
"I know." Mark touches her face again, his thumb sliding over her cheekbone. "But we're okay," he says firmly. "All four of us. No matter what happens with him."
She nods and leans forward to kiss him, pulling back when Max looks curiously in their direction.
"Hey, sweetheart." She gives him a little wave.
Max abandons his dinosaurs and wanders over to them. Resting an arm companionably on her knee, he looks up at her with interest. "You sad, Mommy?"
"Just a little, honey. But not because of you." She takes his face between her palms, studying it. His cheeks are a little flushed, but other than a hint of a vanilla ice cream mustache around his mouth, there's no other sign of his tears. He smiles up at her. How can someone who's made such an impression on their lives, who takes up so much space, is so noisy and full of wonder, be this small?
His trusting expression slays her.
"I'm sorry, Max, that I was … cranky, before, upstairs." She presses her lips together, needing to say it. Mark rests a supportive hand on her back.
"That's okay," Max says agreeably. "Maybe you needed a nap."
She laughs and releases his face, smoothing down the mussed sandy hair at the back of his head. "You might be right about that."
..
"Look what I brought you," Addison holds up her daughter's fuzzy yellow slippers.
"My ducks," Annabel says slowly, smiling.
"That's right. Tomorrow you'll move into a room and we can go for a walk in your duck slippers."
She tucks the slippers back into the bag she packed for Annabel and sees Meredith in the doorway.
"So the plan is still for tomorrow - Meredith?" She notices the other woman is pale, holding one hand at the back of her neck. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Meredith exhales sharply, then gives her a slight smile. "I've been working back up to full time hours, and the last few days have been … extra full time."
"I'm sorry about that."
"That's not what I mean. I think it's just left me a little run down, that's all. I'll adjust again."
"I hope you're not coming down with something." Addison looks at her with concern. "Have you been able to catch up on sleep?"
"It was good to sleep in my own bed," Meredith admits. "Actually, all three of us slept in it."
It's Addison's turn to smile. "I know how that goes."
"Actually, I'm going to head home – I think Derek and Thomas have had enough guy time by now. My resident will keep me updated. I just wanted to check on Annabel before I left."
Addison nods, glancing at her blackberry again – maybe she's still an optimist because she can't help hoping for an email saying the Captain's plane has been delayed.
..
No delays. Instead, she's pacing in the lobby, the soles of her shoes slapping the floor on each circuit, glancing out the darkened windows every few seconds, while Mark - who's far more creative than she is in terms of tiring out their son – is holding both Max's hands and letting him climb up his body.
"Addie, are you sure you don't want me to wait with you?" he asks again.
"Max needs to go to sleep."
"We can keep him here with us. He can … nap on a chair."
"No nap," Max protests, from halfway upside down.
"He needs to go to sleep in a real bed. He needs to feel normal, isn't that what you've been saying?"
"Yes." He studies her face. "That's what I've been saying." He rights Max and sets him down in one of the lobby chairs, turning back to Addison. "So why don't you just wait until the morning to see your father, Addie?"
"I can't. His secretary said he'll be driven straight here. And he flew all this way."
He moves closer, lowering his voice. "I don't want you to have to deal with him alone."
"I appreciate that." She kisses him. "And I love you, but it's fine. I'll feel better if Max is taken care of, and … I don't want the Captain to see him. Not yet, at least."
He pauses, still not looking like he's on board.
"Let me feel it out. Just … trust me," she touches his face. "It's fine."
Mark nods. "You'll text me after? And if you need anything?"
"You know I will."
"Why do I have to go?" Max complains as she fastens his raincoat.
"Because it's time for you to get ready for bed," she says patiently.
"Will you be there when I wake up?"
"I'll be waiting for you here, and you'll come first thing in the morning with Daddy. Like you and I did today." She kisses the side of his head. "Okay?"
"Okay."
She gives him one more squeeze.
"Good luck," Mark says ruefully, leaning in to kiss her, then bending down to scoop up Max and toss him over his shoulder, causing a squeal of delight.
She watches them leave with a pang.
..
She recognizes the scent of his cologne – woodsy with a hint of thyme, same as always – before she actually sees him. Then he's striding toward her, looking much the same as she remembers him: tall and confident, the light hair of her childhood threaded through with silver now. He's wearing a dark trench and a jaunty scarf and he gives her a broad smile of cheerful recognition like he's meeting her for tea.
"Captain." She stands up, straightening her skirt. "You're, um, you're here."
As greetings go, it's not her most eloquent.
"It's good to see you too, kitten." He stops a respectable distance away, which isn't surprising. Her parents were never exactly the physically affectionate type.
"How was your flight?" she asks politely. Why did you fly out here? She wants to scream, but if she's going to talk to the Captain, she's going to have to speak WASP.
"It was fine. How's my granddaughter?"
Addison winces slightly at the word. "She's doing very well. But she's in isolation right now," she adds, in case he wants to see her. It's not exactly a lie.
His eyes skate over her. "You're looking good, kitten."
"Addison," she corrects him.
"Addison," he pronounces her name as if it amuses him. "…so, where does a person get a drink in this town?"
"There's a bar at the hotel. And a fully stocked one in your room, I'm sure," she adds quickly, not wanting to deal with whatever strange woman he was hoping to pick up in the bar.
"You know I don't like to drink alone."
"You know that's not true," she can't help responding, but she keeps her voice light.
"Join me? We have a lot of catching up to do, you and I. It's been a few years."
A few. Almost eight, in fact. She doesn't – won't – count Archer's funeral, but just thinking about it makes heat rise to her cheeks.
"So?" He raises an eyebrow. "Will you join me for a drink?"
"I can't. I need to stay with Annabel."
"Annabel. How did you come up with that name?"
"We …." her voice trails off. "Does it matter?"
"No, I suppose it doesn't. I was just curious. I'd like to get to know you again, Addison."
Now she wishes Mark had stayed after all.
Avoiding her father's eyes, she glances at the floor, then down the hall, then touches her necklace uncertainly, not really sure what to do with her hands. Her parents have never wasted much time making her feel like a gawky, confused teenager again.
"Um, how's Bizzy?" she asks finally.
He doesn't answer at first, and she can't identify his expression.
"Captain?" She prompts him, confused – and then concerned.
"Kit… Addison." He gestures at the row of chairs lining the wall. "You should probably sit down."
Reviews make the world go 'round.
Two quick things: first, hat tip to Addison-fan for knowing the Captain would be on the other end of that call. Second, there's a lot going on in this story. It's a kitchen-sink soap opera situation and it's pretty shameless, but my goal is to keep the characters as true as possible even in the alternate universe and even with all that's happening. After all, the initial inspiration for Derek's being the only one who could save Annabel came from the Archer crossover.
Title lyric from Dar Williams's We Learned the Sea.