67. {c} [ga/pp] (mark/addison) the scene is dead - 7
Title: The Scene Is Dead; (Part One)
Chapter: 7;The World At Large []
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy/Private Practice
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Rating: R/(PG-13)
Warnings: This story confronts sex and vulgar language.
Words: 1,381
Summary: Mark and Addison confront what could have been, what almost was, and what will be. - Mark finally talks. -
He’s always viewed the world through someone else’s eyes - he’s had to or else he would have never seen anything good about mankind, let alone that the race possibly deserves a fighting chance. His childhood was less than ideal with parents who had lives of their own so they left him home alone at all hours of the day and night; he’s pretty sure there’s a law against that now. To this day, he isn’t even sure why they had him - if it was to make them fight for a marriage that made Bizzy and the Captain’s marriage look absolutely perfect, which is what Addison’s parents are aiming for he assumes, or if it was for someone to carry on the family name he doesn’t know.
His childhood was less than fair. He had to turn on all of the TV’s and lights in the house just to lull him to sleep, and many nights Carolyn Shepard sent Derek home with him to keep him company. When they were nine, Mark was just shy of his tenth birthday, Derek’s dad was shot and killed by a mugger who wanted his watch and it hurt Mark more than he would ever willingly admit. Some asshole deadbeat had gunned down the only man who had ever played the role of a father in his life, but he couldn’t cry because he had to be strong for his best friend.
He had to view the world from Derek’s eyes, he thinks, because although Derek was sad that his dad wasn’t around anymore, he willingly flashed his pearly white smile and did all of the things around the house that his dad used to do before he died. Sometimes, Mark helped Derek because it made him feel like he had a place which he belonged. Eventually, the world that Derek saw became Mark’s blurred vision because his friend became distant and he had to find his own beliefs in God and science.
He saw flaws in the entire plan laid out before him, so he adopted Addison’s views because they were beautiful and brooding and empathetic. She thought that, even though her father was a cheating bastard who she’d blanketed the truth for, what she thought, Bizzy’s sake, the perfect marriage could still exist and that it was still possible for two people to be happy and in love and successful. He saw the world through her eyes and because of that, he believed that children were the future and that beauty wasn’t only skin deep; he loved the way her lips parted as she drifted off into thought and that was when he first realized how stupid he was.
His legs carry him at a swift movement, feet slamming into the sand and leaving small holes where his toes have been, and the sand crunches beneath his feet. He’s running as fast as his legs can bear, skin slick with sweat as his shorts inch up his inner thighs. He’s out of breath, but she’s still running faster, damn her.
The Addison out running him is not the woman he once knew. The woman he’d known for his entire adult life was simply different than she used to be, and he’s going to grumble about it, he decides, as soon as he can catch his breath. He hears her laugh her competitive laughter full of success and he thinks he sees a glimpse of the woman he used to know, and he tries to lengthen his strides to catch up to her. He’s out of shape; his muscles have already been aching.
“Ha!” She laughs as he bends over and presses his hands into his knees, digging his heels into the sand just behind her house. When she’d said she wanted to go on a run, he hadn’t imagined running through dune traps on his already sore legs. He lifts his head and narrows his eyes at her. She smirks and takes a drink of her water. He tries to sit down to give his legs a rest but she grabs him by the elbow and uses all of her strength to pull him back up. “Don’t. Your muscles will tighten up. You’ll have a hell of a week.”
“God, Addison,” he groans as she shoves her water bottle into his hand to take a drink. He obliges and hands it back to her so she can put the cap back on. He thinks he hates her for this. He gasps for breath and he’s a little jealous because her breathing is already starting to even out. “What the hell happened to you?”
She grins.
“You’re entirely too happy for someone who shouldn’t be able to breathe.”
“That isn’t what you were saying this morning.” He laughs quietly as he ignores her warnings and drops into the sand. He feels himself genuinely smiling and staring at her adoringly as she pouts and shoves her hands into her hips. “Mark, come-“
“Oh, you freak, shut up.” He laughs and tugs her down beside him. He struggles with whether he should wrap his arms around her and pull her to him, because he wants to so much, but he isn’t sure what she’ll say and he isn’t sure he can handle it right now. He’s actually happy for the first time in a long time. “What happened to you after I left, Addie?”
He hears her release a sigh as she leans back against his chest and he can’t help but smile from the contact.
“Life happened,” she answers honestly, hesitantly. His views on the world have become his own, less tainted but more fucked up from the damages he’s done. He sees the world at large as a test that has been set up for failure, only destined to repeat it until he finally gets it right; he thinks that’s how he’s ended up back on Addison doorstep, in her bed. “Sam told me he’s in love with me.”
“I could have told you that,” he says with a laugh. He pretends like he doesn’t look over his shoulder to see if Sam is watching him with Addison, but he does anyway, looks for specs through the glass that don’t belong. He feels the sand shift against his legs as she pushes herself into a standing position and he wonder what they’re doing, if he’s just something that she can rub in Sam’s face. “I think the world puts us in situations to correct all of the mistakes we’ve made.”
“Is that why you’re here?” She asks him. He feels her eyes on him and he hesitantly lifts his eyes to hers, thinks that if he could avoid it he wouldn’t be caught staring at them. He shrugs half heartedly, not sure how to answer her question. “Do you think I’m a mistake that you can just correct?”
“It isn’t like that, Addison,” he says guiltily. He thinks that this is why they don’t talk, because beneath all of his insight there isn’t enough understanding so it always leads them here - to disaster. He thinks that this is the fucking irony of trying to make it about words, about trying to be more than just the forever fuck up. He feels himself breathe in defeat and forces his tired legs in motion. “All I’m saying is that everything I’ve done is like hitting the panic button too soon, except I don’t get a slap on the wrist, I get to watch anyone I’ve ever loved suffer from my decisions.”
“Like?”
“I used to stick a bullet in the gun, spin the chamber, and pull the trigger hoping that one day I’d blow my jaw clear off. When it didn’t happen, I’d take the bullet out and put it back on the dresser, tuck the gun away like it didn’t exist until tomorrow.”
“You never told me,” she says quietly. His heart stops beating. He didn’t know how to tell her, still doesn’t, really; she would have never known. He shakes his head, lifts his eyes to hers just in time to see a tear slide down her cheek. She can’t handle death, or the thought of someone dying. Can’t imagine the coffin being lowered into the ground and saying a final goodbye - he knows this.
"How could I?"
Chapter: 7;The World At Large []
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy/Private Practice
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Rating: R/(PG-13)
Warnings: This story confronts sex and vulgar language.
Words: 1,381
Summary: Mark and Addison confront what could have been, what almost was, and what will be. - Mark finally talks. -
He’s always viewed the world through someone else’s eyes - he’s had to or else he would have never seen anything good about mankind, let alone that the race possibly deserves a fighting chance. His childhood was less than ideal with parents who had lives of their own so they left him home alone at all hours of the day and night; he’s pretty sure there’s a law against that now. To this day, he isn’t even sure why they had him - if it was to make them fight for a marriage that made Bizzy and the Captain’s marriage look absolutely perfect, which is what Addison’s parents are aiming for he assumes, or if it was for someone to carry on the family name he doesn’t know.
His childhood was less than fair. He had to turn on all of the TV’s and lights in the house just to lull him to sleep, and many nights Carolyn Shepard sent Derek home with him to keep him company. When they were nine, Mark was just shy of his tenth birthday, Derek’s dad was shot and killed by a mugger who wanted his watch and it hurt Mark more than he would ever willingly admit. Some asshole deadbeat had gunned down the only man who had ever played the role of a father in his life, but he couldn’t cry because he had to be strong for his best friend.
He had to view the world from Derek’s eyes, he thinks, because although Derek was sad that his dad wasn’t around anymore, he willingly flashed his pearly white smile and did all of the things around the house that his dad used to do before he died. Sometimes, Mark helped Derek because it made him feel like he had a place which he belonged. Eventually, the world that Derek saw became Mark’s blurred vision because his friend became distant and he had to find his own beliefs in God and science.
He saw flaws in the entire plan laid out before him, so he adopted Addison’s views because they were beautiful and brooding and empathetic. She thought that, even though her father was a cheating bastard who she’d blanketed the truth for, what she thought, Bizzy’s sake, the perfect marriage could still exist and that it was still possible for two people to be happy and in love and successful. He saw the world through her eyes and because of that, he believed that children were the future and that beauty wasn’t only skin deep; he loved the way her lips parted as she drifted off into thought and that was when he first realized how stupid he was.
His legs carry him at a swift movement, feet slamming into the sand and leaving small holes where his toes have been, and the sand crunches beneath his feet. He’s running as fast as his legs can bear, skin slick with sweat as his shorts inch up his inner thighs. He’s out of breath, but she’s still running faster, damn her.
The Addison out running him is not the woman he once knew. The woman he’d known for his entire adult life was simply different than she used to be, and he’s going to grumble about it, he decides, as soon as he can catch his breath. He hears her laugh her competitive laughter full of success and he thinks he sees a glimpse of the woman he used to know, and he tries to lengthen his strides to catch up to her. He’s out of shape; his muscles have already been aching.
“Ha!” She laughs as he bends over and presses his hands into his knees, digging his heels into the sand just behind her house. When she’d said she wanted to go on a run, he hadn’t imagined running through dune traps on his already sore legs. He lifts his head and narrows his eyes at her. She smirks and takes a drink of her water. He tries to sit down to give his legs a rest but she grabs him by the elbow and uses all of her strength to pull him back up. “Don’t. Your muscles will tighten up. You’ll have a hell of a week.”
“God, Addison,” he groans as she shoves her water bottle into his hand to take a drink. He obliges and hands it back to her so she can put the cap back on. He thinks he hates her for this. He gasps for breath and he’s a little jealous because her breathing is already starting to even out. “What the hell happened to you?”
She grins.
“You’re entirely too happy for someone who shouldn’t be able to breathe.”
“That isn’t what you were saying this morning.” He laughs quietly as he ignores her warnings and drops into the sand. He feels himself genuinely smiling and staring at her adoringly as she pouts and shoves her hands into her hips. “Mark, come-“
“Oh, you freak, shut up.” He laughs and tugs her down beside him. He struggles with whether he should wrap his arms around her and pull her to him, because he wants to so much, but he isn’t sure what she’ll say and he isn’t sure he can handle it right now. He’s actually happy for the first time in a long time. “What happened to you after I left, Addie?”
He hears her release a sigh as she leans back against his chest and he can’t help but smile from the contact.
“Life happened,” she answers honestly, hesitantly. His views on the world have become his own, less tainted but more fucked up from the damages he’s done. He sees the world at large as a test that has been set up for failure, only destined to repeat it until he finally gets it right; he thinks that’s how he’s ended up back on Addison doorstep, in her bed. “Sam told me he’s in love with me.”
“I could have told you that,” he says with a laugh. He pretends like he doesn’t look over his shoulder to see if Sam is watching him with Addison, but he does anyway, looks for specs through the glass that don’t belong. He feels the sand shift against his legs as she pushes herself into a standing position and he wonder what they’re doing, if he’s just something that she can rub in Sam’s face. “I think the world puts us in situations to correct all of the mistakes we’ve made.”
“Is that why you’re here?” She asks him. He feels her eyes on him and he hesitantly lifts his eyes to hers, thinks that if he could avoid it he wouldn’t be caught staring at them. He shrugs half heartedly, not sure how to answer her question. “Do you think I’m a mistake that you can just correct?”
“It isn’t like that, Addison,” he says guiltily. He thinks that this is why they don’t talk, because beneath all of his insight there isn’t enough understanding so it always leads them here - to disaster. He thinks that this is the fucking irony of trying to make it about words, about trying to be more than just the forever fuck up. He feels himself breathe in defeat and forces his tired legs in motion. “All I’m saying is that everything I’ve done is like hitting the panic button too soon, except I don’t get a slap on the wrist, I get to watch anyone I’ve ever loved suffer from my decisions.”
“Like?”
“I used to stick a bullet in the gun, spin the chamber, and pull the trigger hoping that one day I’d blow my jaw clear off. When it didn’t happen, I’d take the bullet out and put it back on the dresser, tuck the gun away like it didn’t exist until tomorrow.”
“You never told me,” she says quietly. His heart stops beating. He didn’t know how to tell her, still doesn’t, really; she would have never known. He shakes his head, lifts his eyes to hers just in time to see a tear slide down her cheek. She can’t handle death, or the thought of someone dying. Can’t imagine the coffin being lowered into the ground and saying a final goodbye - he knows this.
"How could I?"