(no subject)
Title: Expand, Contract [6/?]
Author: more_awake
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character: Mark (and a supporting cast of Archer, Sam, Naomi, and the Oceansiders)
Summary: In the aftermath of Addison's sudden death, Mark is left to grieve and raise their newborn daughter with the help of Addison's brother, friends, and the words she left behind. Set in an AU in which Addison kept the baby and went straight from NYC to LA after leaving Mark instead of taking a year-long detour in Seattle.
Previous chapters: one, two, three, four, five
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Chapter Six
xx
She gazes up at him with big, curious eyes as he delicately towel-dries her thin layer of hair, looking as though she is as surprised as he is about the fact that her bath went so smoothly. It’s the first time he has done this without help, and surprisingly, the only mistake he made was knocking the open bottle of baby shampoo onto the bathroom floor. It left a mess that he will have to clean up later, but for now, he is just relieved that he didn’t somehow injure his slippery daughter.
“Thanks for not peeing in your tub this time,” he remarks, also appreciative of her cooperation in that particular department, as he wraps her in a pink hooded towel before gathering her against him and walking to her room.
As she snuggles into him in an effort to keep warm, he finds himself instinctively reciprocating so that she can benefit from his body heat. He is still getting used to the cuddling and her seemingly-constant need for human contact, but there is something about a freshly-bathed baby that makes it all feel like second nature. She feels so relaxed, she smells nice, and her skin feels even softer. He also finds her spikey, post-bath hair to be adorably amusing.
Her one-month birthday is tomorrow, and somehow it feels like it has been both the longest and shortest month of his life. Each day often seems to last forever, but in retrospect, time feels like it has passed too quickly. Every day brings them all further from Addison, further away from memories, and further into an unfair world where a certain little girl will grow up without the amazing person who gave birth to her.
Mark wonders, sometimes, if Aurora realizes that someone is missing-after all, she knew Addison’s heartbeat, voice, and movements long before becoming aware of anything else. He wonders if she dreams of her when she sleeps, and when she calms upon hearing the dishwasher or a running faucet, he wonders if the sound is triggering her earliest memories of a time when all she knew was darkness, safe warmth, and the constant, comforting sound of her mother’s rushing blood. He hates to think that she might be even the slightest bit aware of her loss, but when she suddenly will not stop crying the following night-the night that marks one month since her mother’s passing-he feels like she must sense something, regardless of how improbable it seems.
xx
It’s as if she knows that Addison has been gone for a full month. Aurora has been crying for well over two hours now, and nothing he is doing seems to have an even remotely calming effect on her. He has tried feeding her, changing her, wrapping her snugly in a blanket, giving her a pacifier, letting her listen to the sound of the dishwasher, rocking her, walking around with her, talking to her, and he even got so desperate as to try singing. Nothing is doing anything, and it is getting frustrating. He is starting to feel more and more like a failure with each passing second, and she’s just so loud, but the frustration takes a backseat to the worry as she continues to carry on with an unwavering intensity. He can’t imagine that this kind of behavior could be normal, and he is starting to wonder if there might be something seriously wrong with her. The books he has managed to get through say that extended bouts of crying usually aren’t anything severe, but Aurora isn’t just crying; she is absolutely screaming. Her tiny body is tense and shaking, and it pains him to think of how exhausted her little lungs and vocal cords must be. He knew it was going to be a bad night for him, but he expected to be caught up in his thoughts rather than dealing with an inconsolable baby. He thought he had her fairly figured out at this point, but now, he has exhausted all options except one.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” he says to her apologetically as he picks up his cell phone around the two-and-a-half-hour mark while awkwardly bouncing her in his arms. He feels bad about calling Sam and Naomi at this time of night, but he feels even worse for Aurora, so he sucks it up and dials, murmuring an “I’m sorry” to his daughter and to whomever might answer his call.
It rings three times before Sam picks up. “Mark?”
“She won’t stop crying, and I don’t know what to do,” he blurts out desperately over what he is sure must be the loudest wailing he has ever heard. Quickly realizing that he sounds close to tears himself, he clears his throat and continues more evenly. “I’m really sorry to wake you guys. I’ve tried everything, but she’s been going for almost two and a half hours now, and I just don’t know what’s wrong with her. I’m worried.”
“Hang on a second,” he says before passing the phone to his wife.
“Mark?”
“Naomi, I’m really sorry, but-”
“No. No, it’s okay. We were awake. Don’t worry about it. What’s wrong?”
“That’s just it- I don’t know. She’s just screaming, and it’s been almost two and a half hours.”
“It’s probably colic. You just need to wait it out.”
That was not the answer he was looking for. He doesn’t know how much more he (or his daughter) can take of this.
“Do you hear her, though? What if there’s something really wrong? It sounds like she’s hurt or something.”
“That’s a possibility,” Naomi answers-also not what he wanted to hear. “It could be either gas or reflux or both, and it can be really painful.”
He knows that she is most likely right, but he is still concerned that it could be something far more serious.
“But what if she has, like, appendicitis, and her appendix bursts, and-”
“Mark, calm down. I seriously, seriously doubt she has appendicitis, but I can come over there if you want. You sound like you need a break.”
“No, no. I’m fine,” he lies insistently. He needs to be able to do this himself. She is his responsibility, and he can’t keep asking other people to do his job. “We’re fine. Just tell me what to do.”
“Unlock the back door. I’m going to put on some shoes, and I’ll be right over.”
xx
All it takes is a quick assessment, and Naomi knows exactly what to do. She gives the little girl a gentle belly rub until she begins to quiet, and then after that, she rocks back and forth with her until her breathing returns to normal. Naomi tries to play it off like Aurora just tired herself out, which makes him feel like she is probably thinking about how pathetic and sad it is that he still can’t take care of his own child.
“I think you should try switching her formula,” she suggests optimistically as they watch the baby eat in her arms. “It might help, and you could even take her out to the store with you, let her experience a new place.” She sounds so positive about all of this when all he can think about is how he just spent two and a half unsuccessful hours trying to help his daughter, only to have her walk in and fix everything within fifteen minutes. His lack of a response prompts her to slightly change the subject. “When is her appointment with Cooper?”
“Wednesday,” he mumbles from behind his fist, his bare feet resting on the coffee table (even though Addison would have hated that). “Seven-thirty, before you guys open up.”
“Well, be sure to mention this, especially if it happens again. He can check her out for reflux and maybe give you some ideas to make her more comfortable.”
“Okay,” he replies vacantly.
He isn’t looking forward to seeing all of Addison’s friends again. They seem like nice enough people, but he doesn’t want their sympathetic looks or questions about how he and Aurora are doing. They are doing as well as can be expected-not great, but managing so far. The good days are bearable, but the bad ones are bad. On those days, he sometimes feels so guilty and sad about Addison that he can hardly breathe. A month after her death and eight months after he last saw her, he misses her. There are reminders of her everywhere, and he still finds it almost inconceivable that someone who was once so alive and such a huge part of his life is now just gone. Used to working in a hospital, he sees death all the time, but until now, he has never actually lost someone close to him. He hates so much that it had to be Addison.
And it’s not just that. On days when Aurora is particularly ornery, he starts to get ahead of himself, thinking that maybe he rushed into everything, that maybe he will never be a suitable parent. After all, how is he going to raise a girl? Addison would have raised her to be polite and feminine, and he has no idea how to even attempt that. Manners aren’t his strong suit, he says exactly what is on his mind without any regard to how appropriate or offensive it might be, and he doesn’t know how to talk feelings. He doesn’t know how to play tea party or dress-up or dolls or whatever it is that little girls play. He can’t braid hair or do pigtails or pick out clothes that match. It’s just not something that he has any insight into. It’s not him. And for things like potty training a girl and eventually puberty and periods, he wonders how the hell that is going to work when all she has is him. He wants what is best for her. He wants to be what is best for her, but there are days where really he wonders if maybe she would be better off with Naomi, Sam, and Maya or even Archer. And then he thinks of how sad it would be if she were to grow up without both of her parents, and then his thoughts then turn back to Addison, and the whole cycle starts over again.
Breaking his trance, Naomi nudges his knee with her own and looks up at him. “Hey, she’s fine, Mark. You’re doing a good job with her, and I’m glad you felt comfortable calling.”
He is still embarrassed about that. “I’m sorry that I woke you guys up.”
“We weren’t sleeping,” she insists, a hint of bitterness in her voice. Weeks ago, he probably would have made a sex joke, but he, surprisingly, doesn’t feel like it. She, however, takes the opportunity herself. “And no, we weren’t having sex either. We’ve just been… having problems… and arguments… lately,” she reveals hesitantly. “Well, I guess not lately. It’s been going on for a few months now.”
“Oh.” Maybe he was too caught up in other things to notice, but they certainly had him fooled. They seemed like the same perfectly happy, loving couple that he knew back in medical school.
“Yeah. We’re, uh, thinking about separating. Or, rather, he is thinking about moving out,” she explains shakily. “He’s just not happy with us. That’s really the only explanation he has, and I just don’t understand. I mean, we have been together for the majority of our adult lives, and now he just wants to throw all of that away? He doesn’t even want to try to fix things, and the only reason he has stayed this long is because I had been guilt-tripping him, and then after Addison died, we needed each other.”
He ruins relationships, so he really isn’t sure what to say. He is kind of shocked-Addison and Derek were opposites, but the Bennetts always seemed like the perfect match. Sam also never seemed like the kind of guy who would just give up on his marriage, and yet here Naomi is, tearfully confessing that she and her husband are not the couple that they appear to be.
“Shit, I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“I just wish I knew what he wanted from me, you know? And I hate that he’s doing this now when there is so much going on. And over nothing. God, I almost wish he would have just had an affair or something so that there would at least be a reason.” She shakes her head. “Sorry that I’m dumping this on you. You have enough to worry about.”
He shrugs, “Hey, I made you come over here at 3:30 in the morning. I owed you one.” As bad as he feels for her, he almost feels better, himself, knowing that someone else’s life sucks, too.
They lapse into silence as Aurora finishes eating. There hasn’t been enough quiet time to reflect tonight on the events of the last month, and he wonders, briefly, if Naomi is thinking the same thing. She is staring blankly out into the darkness, and when he follows her eyes, they land on the urn on the mantel.
“I miss Addie,” she murmurs almost inaudibly, leaning her head on his shoulder. It’s a movement that he doesn’t question. They both need to feel the closeness of another adult, but he wonders how he became the person who comforts the wives of his friends.
“Me too.”
xx
Aurora screams the whole way to the practice a few days later. Somewhere over the last week, she went from a calm, mostly-easy-to-please baby to a tiny, unpredictable, screaming nightmare. He has been irritated by noisy children ever since Derek's youngest sister was an infant, and up until lately, Aurora has been tolerable in the noise department, but now, he almost can't take it anymore. She's shrill and unbelievably loud for such a small person, and it seems as though she barely sleeps for an hour at a time before she's awake and expressing her discontentment again. Sometimes, she will suddenly stop, but then without warning, she will start up again. He feels bad for her, of course, but he now has a near-constant headache and has all but resigned himself to the possibility that nothing he does will help her. It almost makes him a little resentful. She is just a baby, and he knows that, but he gave up his entire life for her and is trying as hard as he can; the least she could do would be to just cooperate in order to make his sacrifice less of a sacrifice.
She quiets almost as soon as he parks the car (he finally got his sent over from New York), but his ears are still ringing as he steps into Oceanside Wellness with Naomi and Sam. He has her carseat carrier in one hand and a diaper bag slung over the other shoulder, and he feels so not like a man now. It’s the first time he has been out with Aurora, and the pink flower-print diaper bag makes him feel like he is carrying a purse.
“Nice place,” he comments as he surveys the lobby of the practice for the first time. He isn’t sure what he was expecting, but his entire career has been spent in hospitals, so it’s very different from what his is used to. It’s very still and quiet with no patients around.
“Thanks,” they respond simultaneously before exchanging tense glances. He hadn’t noticed the strain between them before, but ever since Naomi’s revelation, it has become obvious.
And awkward.
Sam clears his throat. “Uh, it looks like Coop is in already,” he says, motioning towards some glass doors that must lead into offices. “That’s his door on the far right. You can just go ahead and take her in.”
“And come find me before you leave to tell me how it went,” Naomi adds.
He nods silently, and they all head their separate ways. As he walks through the lobby, he can’t help but think of how this place is so not anything like the Addison he knew. It’s very nice, for sure, but it also has a very laid-back, relaxed feel that is so different from the fast-paced New York City atmosphere. Everything is colorful and so much more welcoming than a hospital. It’s almost difficult to imagine her in a private practice setting.
Cooper sees them coming before they even make it to his office.
“Hey, Mark,” he greets upon opening the door, extending his hand for a handshake. “Come on in. It’s nice to see you guys.”
“Yeah, uh, thanks for seeing her this early,” he says as he shuffles inside, noting the large window behind the desk while anxiously searching for a place to set Aurora down.
“Just put her carseat over on the table, and I can take her from there,” he tells him. Mark complies, carefully placing the carseat on the table, unbuckling the baby, and stepping back to let the pediatrician do what he needs to do.
Cooper then gets down on his knees so that he is at eye-level with Aurora. “Hi, bug! It’s me-Uncle Cooper, remember? We used to have some good talks before you were born.”
Immediately, Mark feels jealous. After he had gotten over the initial shock of Addison’s pregnancy, one of the first things he found himself thinking about was how big Addison was going to get and how beautiful it would make her and how amazing it would all be to watch (though he would never admit to having thought any of this). Everything was terrifying, but the thought of her slowly growing a little person who would be able kick, hear their voices, and bring them closer together made his heart beat faster. It seemed wonderful. He hates himself for ruining it, and he hates that others got to experience it instead. He met his daughter when she was two days old, and yet, all of these other people-Addison’s new coworkers-knew her months before that.
Mark knows that it is because Cooper is a pediatrician and it’s his job to make kids feel at ease, but he can’t help but feel even more envious as he watches the way other man is able to so effortlessly interact with Aurora. He handles her gently, coos at her, calls her “ladybug,” and knows exactly how to keep her calm and comfortable throughout the check-up. Cooper is a natural with her, and Mark knows that even after five weeks, he isn’t even close.
xx
Aurora is pleasant and calm throughout the appointment, but almost ten minutes after it ends, they are pacing around the table in the Oceanside kitchen as she cries over the pain inflicted upon her during the last part of her check-up: vaccinations. Knowing what was to come, he felt terrible as he gave her a pacifier and situated her in his arms while Cooper prepared the syringe. As the needle pierced her tender skin, he had to look away. She had been innocently studying his fingers when suddenly, she tensed in his arms, a pained screech filled the room, and the drool-coated pacifier fell to the ground. It had to happen-he knows immunizations are a necessary evil-but it hurt to hear and see his baby in pain.
He shifted her to cry into his chest as soon as it was over-catching hold of one of her little flailing fists, rubbing her back, kissing the crown of her head, trying to comfort her as best as he could-and because Cooper had another patient immediately following Aurora, he then took her to the kitchen to calm down.
“Come on, it’s done. I’m sorry. I know, it sucks. No one likes getting stabbed with a needle, but it’s done now,” he assures her as they walk and gently bounce around the kitchen. “Shhh… stop. You’re safe.”
There are patients arriving in the lobby, and he doesn’t want to be that person who can’t shut his own kid up. They may not be able to see the two of them, but as loud as she is right now, people surely must be able to hear.
As they round the corner of the kitchen table again, the door opens, and the shrink-Violet, he remembers-steps in.
“Shots,” he explains with an apologetic shrug.
“Oh,” she nods sympathetically as she heads to the coffee maker. “Poor thing.”
He feels like he is practically sleepwalking as continues to pace with her.
“Shhh… we can’t go home until you stop.” His reasoning is twofold, partly selfish and partly practical-firstly, his head hurts like a bitch already from noise and lack of sleep, and secondly, he won’t be able to hear the GPS over her cries. “There is no way in hell I’m getting in a car with you screaming at me the whole way again.”
Violet laughs and sets her empty coffee mug on the counter.
“Here,” she offers, pulling out a chair at the table. “Try sitting.”
The crying doesn’t stop immediately, but it does lessen in intensity, and by the time Violet finishes preparing her coffee, Aurora is only hiccupping. The change in altitude helped.
Why is it that everyone seems to know what to do with her, lately, except for him?
“Thank god,” he groans, reaching over to pull a warm bottle from the thermal pocket of the diaper bag. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem. Babies cry. That’s what they do.” Violet eyes him curiously, and it makes him uncomfortable because he knows she is trying to read him. “You must be exhausted.”
She’s right. He is, but he isn’t going to fall for her attempt at getting him to spill what he is feeling. He doesn’t want to talk about being tired, or missing his old life, or Addison, or the rift between himself and Archer. He doesn’t need a therapist right now; he just needs some rest.
“I’m alright, you know,” he tells her as convincingly as possible. “You don’t need to do the shrink thing with me.”
“I know,” she insists with a half-smile that indicates that she knows he is lying. “Anyway, I have a house call to get to, so I’m going to head out. It was good seeing you guys.”
“Thanks.”
“And I promise that I’ll try not to keep bringing this up, but if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here.”
He nods, acting as though he will consider her offer, but honestly, he just doesn’t want to talk to anyone about his life right now, especially a therapist. He doesn’t want to analyze and over-think things any more than he already is, and besides that, his shrink in New York was useless.
xx
On the way back home (he tries to think of it as “home” now instead of “Addison’s”), he stops at a grocery store to pick up a few different things to help with Aurora’s current digestive issues, as per Cooper’s and Naomi’s suggestions. Luckily, she sleeps for the entire ride this time, and she doesn’t wake up until he is struggling to get her carseat to sit evenly on the shopping cart without tipping over. Even then, she is quiet, and for that, he is extremely thankful.
He is comparing the labels on two different types of formula (not really knowing exactly what he’s looking for), when he hears someone speaking to him.
“Giving mom a break, huh?”
He turns to see an older, grey-haired woman giving him a friendly smile. “Sorry, what?”
“I’m sure your wife must appreciate you taking the little one for the afternoon.”
Her stares at her with his mouth part-way open for a couple seconds as he processes exactly what is going on. His wife. Addison. She assumes he is married, married to Addison.
“Oh, well, actually,” he sputters uncomfortably, feeling very much like a deer in the headlights and stopping himself before he says Actually, her mother died in April. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want questions or an awkward expression of pity, so he decides to just go with the woman’s assumption. Forcing a smile that he hopes doesn’t look too fake, he gives a short laugh and lies as best as he can, “Yeah. I’m just… trying to help out.”
“That’s very sweet of you, dear. She’s a lucky woman,” she replies warmly before motioning towards Aurora. “How old?”
“Five weeks.”
“Brand new,” she muses with a sigh. “She’s a beautiful little girl.”
“Thank you.”
The woman then smiles, nods, and casually continues on her way. Their brief exchange, though, has thrown him completely off-balance and left him staring in a daze at his daughter.
He had not considered how people might react to seeing them together. He knows that fathers, traditionally, are not the primary parents and that, to some, he might be seen somewhat of an anomaly, but he never anticipated questions about the whereabouts of mother of his child, never thought strangers would approach him just to make small talk about the perfect little girl who currently has one of her fists halfway in her mouth and her tiny feet kicking away contentedly. He realizes now that they are going to stick out more than a mother and average baby might. He realizes now that there will be a lot of questions from strangers, a lot of pretending, a lot of being reminded that Addison is gone, and suddenly, he is grabbing Aurora’s carseat carrier and making a beeline towards the exit with her, abandoning the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle.
The formula is going to have to wait-he can’t stand to be in that store another second.
xx
Upon arriving home, he finds himself in Addison’s room again. It’s the first time he is seeing it in the daylight and only the second time that he has been inside. The walls are a sunny, happy yellow, and the décor is equally as cheery-the opposite of how he is feeling.
“She thought we were married,” he mumbles dismally into one of the sham pillows on the bed. Maybe if he hadn’t messed up so badly, they would have been someday. He breathes in her scent. It would have been nice. For a few minutes, he closes his tired eyes and lays there thinking of the possibilities, but when his thoughts drift to Aurora, his eyes fly open and he jolts to his feet.
He left her in the car.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
She was so quiet on the ride home that he completely forgot about her. Cursing himself for being such a terrible parent, he rushes down the stairs two at a time and into the garage. Passing Addison’s black Lexus, he can hear Aurora crying in the backseat of his Escalade, and even though she has only been in there maybe ten minutes, he feels awful. It’s the beginning of June in California, and it’s hot outside, and what if he had completely forgotten and just left her there? He could have killed her.
He fumbles with the door handle, and as soon as he gets it open, he scrambles to free her from her carseat. “Shit, Aurora, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he tells her, feeling sickeningly guilty as he lifts the tiny seatbelt harness over her head. His heart is beating so fast that he can hardly breathe. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
Once he pulls her from the car and closes the door behind them, he fans her face with his free hand in an effort to cool her down, still apologizing profusely as they step back inside the house. The car didn’t even feel hot, but he knows that if he had left her for any longer, it could have been.
“I can’t believe I did that to you,” he murmurs sadly as they climb the stairs and head back to Addison’s room. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I did that.”
He flips the switch for the ceiling fan as they enter, and though he just wants to hold her tightly to feel that she is okay, he lays her on her back in the center of the bed so that she can cool off. She is crying, but she seems to be fine. Her face is red from her tears-not from being overheated-and her skin feels as warm as it always does-not too hot.
“Okay. You’re okay,” he says softly, more as a reassurance to himself than to her. Taking one of her clenched fists into his hand, he runs his thumb over her little knuckles and repeats, “You’re okay.”
He can’t believe that he could do something so stupid.
xx
A/N: So. That was a lot. Thank you for reading :)