(no subject)

[xyliette]

Title: Almost There, Going Nowhere
Part: 41/?
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Rating: R
Summary: Addison attempts to start her life over post Season 3 and runs into a barrel of trouble trying to get there. Previous parts can be found here.


A/N: Three weeks or something? I'm giving myself a gold star, even though my main goal was to get this out before we meet Addison's mother and I had to conform to a character that actually exists. Enjoy-

~-~-~-~-~-~
Well I've been here before
Sat on the floor in this grey, grey room
I don't eat but I play with this grey, grey food
Desolé
Someone's praying that I might break out
Desolé
Even if I scream, I can't scream that loud
- Damien Rice, "Grey Room"
~-~-~-~-~-~

"Look at you," Judith shakes her head disapprovingly. "It's not bedtime Addison." She motions to her pajamas and Addison frowns, feeling the years of unsettled regret weigh heavy on her shoulders.

Addison looks to Susan for help, but her ex-mother in-law is too busy fawning over her new grandchildren to be of any use. With a jolt, Addison is led away by the elbow to the tiny nook created by the stairs and the hall intersecting. Her house is open, airy. She loved that when she moved in. Now she realizes how little privacy it provides for.

Then again, this was always supposed to be her home. This was her place for when the family idea had absconded to younger days, where no man dared become involved. Her space is now infected and overrun by people she never imagined would still be present in her life.

"Why are you here?" Addison asks bravely. She was never one for questioning Judith's crazy antics, it was easier to just let it all be. After a certain point she stopped caring, she just wanted distance from the shenanigans.

After enough visits to the circus it is no longer amusing; it's no longer shrouded in magic and mystery.

"Apparently, this is what good mothers do. At least, that's what I was informed of before I was practically kidnapped and stuffed into the back of an economy jet filled with absurdly rude people for seventeen hundred hours."

Well, as long as she didn't come out her own volition, Addison reasons that the world hasn't started completely spinning the other direction. "How's Dad?"

"Your father is fine Addison, busy as always," Judith smiles cordially, as so often is the case when someone asks about Kenneth, the man who she has taken to seeing with passing interest lately. Their marriage was never winning sort of awards for commitment or dedication anyway. "For god's sake, go change and run a brush through your hair. You look as though you've been dead."

"It's not-" Addison begins, trying to make her understand that no one in the world cares how you look inside your own home, and that Susan has seen her at far worse. Then again, Judith has not. On some level though she's ashamed that her appearance needs commenting on.

"You were raised better than this," Judith interrupts with a stern glare. Heaven forbid anyone try to embarrass her on this already wretched trip across the country. As far as she's concerned California is far too warm for this time of year. She didn't care for it the last time she visited, and she certainly doesn't now.

"Yes, Mother," Addison complies, feeling quite transported back in time. She's no more than six, covered in dirt from her adventures outside, her mother's admonishing brow making it absolutely clear that this is unacceptable when there are dinner guests over.

"Hurry up," Judith hisses, not daring to climb the steps after her, and not budging an inch toward Susan a few feet away. She composes herself with a deep breath, lungs filling strongly, and prepares for a long week.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Did you call my mother!" Addison shouts into her cellphone, speaker-phone on, contraption lying in the middle of their rumpled bedsheets as she tears through the closet trying to find something that will fit. There's still a pound or two that won't budge off her form and some things don't look flawless yet. Generally, she doesn't care but there can be nothing short of perfection when she returns downstairs, Judith won't stand for it.

"Your- mother?" Mark yells back, phone pressed to his ear by his shoulder as he reviews a chart. "Why would I do that?"

"She's here Mark! Here in my house! Again."

"Do you want me to come home?" Mark asks confused, finally grasping his phone and swiveling away from his patient, inches of space between them.

"No! Damn it. No. Ugh!" Addison groans, nails trying to rip her scalp to shreds. She was doing so well. Kind of, not really, but she was on her way to at least fumbling through the rest of the day without Mark. And now she's already gone and called him. Fantastic. "Just...do your job."

"Do my job?" Mark repeats, his burn victim moaning in agony behind him.

"I'm going to have to deal with this," Addison reckons, slipping into a particularly painful pair of heels that will complement her gray dress fantastically. She feels ridiculous, and probably looks it too. Her hair is rushed to a half back stance as Mark yammers on about doing his best to come home soon. She swabs on mascara and is about to reach for the blush on the counter when it strikes her. "Mark?"

"Y-up?" he answers, half paying attention, half focusing on the job she requested he complete. She sounds nervous, which is never a good thing, but amusing just the same.

"Did you call Susan?" Addison interrogates, placing the finishing touches on her face triumphantly, positive that she hasn't even attempted make-up since before the twins were born. She was "living" in her bed, there was really no point.

She's yet to actually be living, but she does play amongst those who inhabit the land lately.

"When the twins were born once, and then when we brought Charlotte home. I meant to call her again, but-Oh, no."

"Oh yes."

"She wouldn't," Mark declares, scribbling into the chart balanced on his knees.

"She has," Addison confirms, hand on her hip. "Why would she do this?"

"I don't know," Mark placates. Susan always has the best intentions in mind, it just usually gets out of hand and sometimes people get hurt. This however, stowing away Satan in her carry on, is another playing field and Mark's torn about not just throwing his chart at a random doctor in the hall and hightailing it out of the hospital.

"This is my hell," Addison whispers thoughtlessly to herself. Her mother, her ex-mother, her children, the other children. Hell, pure and simple.

"Addison," Mark begins to warn her but she stops him.

"I have to go. I've already taken too much time. Bye," she grieves, snapping the phone shut without hearing his reciprocation. There are more important matters at hand.

Mark grins to himself, slipping his phone back into his lab coat. No, he didn't think of the plan, but he wishes he would have. Because if there is one thing that will force Addison to shape up it's her mother.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Take a nap?" Judith asks sternly when Addison clicks her way back down the stairs.

"You ask that like I left you with a serial killer," Addison remarks, breezing by her mother, and catching the "may as well have" that Judith murmurs.

"Sorry Susan," Addison frowns, watching her pull her attention from the two infants next to each other on the blanket Mark spread out before he left. Kennedy is busy drowsily staring at Susan's shiny earrings, embraced by her pseudo grandmother's loving embrace. Her real grandmother has yet to acknowledge that she is alive, as is the general protocol.

"They look like Derek," Judith says dismissively, stealing a chair, and crossing her legs, back arched to an absolutely rigid posture.

"Yes," Susan says softly, running a hand over Kennedy's red hair as she begins to squirm. "They're perfect."

Addison is pretty sure she is supposed to accept the sentiment with gratitude but instead she dashes to the kitchen for stiff drink. She gulps scotch straight from the glass container, washes it down with water, and returns with two bottles of formula prepped and ready. If she could, she'd fix them all a nice cocktail to take the edge out of the air. They'd drink until the backhanded compliments felt like niceties, until the hatred she shares for her immediate family came to a quick rise, hopefully scaring Judith out of ever returning to Los Angeles again.

"Oh," Susan frowns, "you aren't breastfeeding?"

Addison catches Judith crinkle her nose at the hint of a personal subject, something the Shepherd's seem to not understand. There are no lines, no boundaries in their family. It was astonishing at first, then welcomed, and finally as her marriage declined, a horrid trait. "No," she affirms, offering the warm formula to the older woman. Her hand knows better than to attempt to make Judith touch any of the children.

Her mind knows better than to ask anything of her own mother. Those lessons have been learned, they are things of her past, something she never intended to be in her present.

"Are you okay?" Susan asks, rising from the floor with one of the twins, body naturally responding to the small weight and wriggling motions.

"I'm fine," Addison nods, pushing her bangs behind her ear and surrendering to the other twin. She hasn't done this yet. She's helped Mark change them, and held them sporadically over the last few days, but this step has been one she's stumbled over. It's a sacred bonding time, and it's a little too close for comfort. She'd much prefer that Mark be the one stroking cheeks and foreheads, brushing over bulging stomachs encouragingly. It's purely genuine with him.

She's a liar, but it's nothing if not a practiced skill. One inherited from the genes across the room.

"Their names?" Judith asks from the corner, breaking the quiet of slurping mouths and drooping eyelids.

"Charlotte and Audrey," Addison replies catching the not-so subtle eye roll. They aren't names she ever thought of for her children either, but no part of this has been anything she envisioned when she thought of having kids.

"And that is?"

"That's Kennedy," Addison tells her disbelievingly, she isn't catching on. "She was here when you came out...last time. She's...Reagan's."

"Addison," Judith scolds at the mention, "It was a very hectic time for me."

"Yes," Addison acknowledges, falling prey to the suffocating atmosphere again. She doesn't know how time can be passing so slowly. The clock on the wall seems to be moving backwards.

"So, Addie," Susan grasps, watching the heat rise in the room, "Who is who here?" She motions to the matching pair spread between them with an easy smile. There are a lot of grandchildren in her posse, there are a lot of girls among them, but these two will be undeniably special; the only children of her only son. Susan watches Addison's face turn to horror, and understands immediately what Mark was talking about. He wasn't joking with her when she came to visit, and she always knew Addison to be difficult, but she was overboard. And now, she's detached, as Mark put it. So instead of forcing the subject as Judith scrutinizes every detail, Susan simply pulls back the white blanket on her lap and reads the identification tag that has yet to make it off of Audrey's leg.

"Audrey's in yellow!" Addison feels her cheeks blush at the outburst, Judith beginning to rise to consciousness in her seat.

"Susan, if you don't mind, I'd like a word with my daughter," Judith announces, reaching her full height and looking at Addison expectantly.

"Not a problem," Susan smiles eagerly, accepting Charlotte into her crowded lap. She has her work cut out for her here, she's not certain if two weeks is going to be enough time to get everyone in order.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"What?" Addison finally asks after minutes of silence, the waves crashing behind them out on the deck, smashing furiously as the condescending glare mounts its attack a few feet away.

"What do you think you are doing here? What are you trying to achieve?" Judith finally speaks, her tone dredged in disdain, dripping in disapproval.

"I made a life here. You don't have to like it."

"Well, I certainly don't. This is ridiculous Addison. All of you crammed into this tiny little house. You living with your mistress. This is not how a Forbes Montgomery behaves. I won't have you tarnish our good name with your silly little fantasy life. Grow up. Come home. You can have the whole third floor to yourself, and I'm sure that I can find more than one qualified nanny to help out. Surely you don't expect to continue doing this all on your own."

"I am home," Addison argues with a large gulp. The wine in the kitchen is calling her. Pete would suggest herbal tea, Violet meditation, but neither of them understand the storm that is her mother. Hell, she could use a cigarette. Poison is the only thing that helps.

"You live on the beach like a common-"

"It's nice," Addison interjects. "I like the beach. It's calming and I need calming right now."

"I can't support this Addison!" Judith yells.

"You don't support anything I do!" Addison shouts back, her hands flying into the salty breeze.

"You cannot raise those children. It's not your place," Judith elaborates. Granted, she's not on board with any of it, but this is unfathomable. How did her daughter go from respected surgeon to a common whore raising other people's children?

"You raised me," Addison replies coldly. Raised may be giving the woman too much, it implies she may care in some capacity.

"Don't- we aren't talking about that."

"Why not?"

"What I do is none of your business, I am your mother-"

"Oh God, here we go-"

"They should be with Pierce. He is their father, he can provide for them." Judith patiently sets her hands down on her lap, diverting the other topic. It was different then, things were different, and they don't talk about it. As far as everyone out at the country club is concerned Addison is her blood, and they have so many similar traits that no one ever thought to question it. She handled all of the secret whispers, the elaborate stories with painstaking diligence.

"I can provide for them," Addison tells her haughtily.

"Oh Addison," Judith laughs. "You can't even take care of yourself long enough to figure out which child is which. You can't do this."

"I can, I am," Addison fights. She'll be damned if her mother is right.

"You're falling apart, it's unbecoming. Pull it together. Montgomerys don't do this Addison," Judith warns, knowing that her daughter understands every inflection behind every syllable. This isn't about Addison. It isn't about the small zoo inside. There's a reputation at stake, a name that means something more than Addison has ever been willing to grasp. "I'm going back to my hotel to find out when I can leave this wretched town, call me a ride," Judith instructs, watching her daughter tremble as she rises. "And Addison, it's impolite not to ask if your guests would like something to drink. I'm parched."

~-~-~-~-~-~

"You really don't have to do this Nae," Addison says, agitatedly smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of her little black dress that hasn't seen the light of day in months.

"I want to," Naomi comforts, "besides, it will be good for you and Mark to get some time away from everyone. You need a break too."

"An evening with my mother is a far cry from the break you speak of. How do I look?" Addison spins halfway, calves already aching with the stinging familiarity of four inch heels. She needs the height advantage tonight. She needs a calvary, what she has in her armory is Mark.

"Cute shoes," Naomi notes, "And you look fine Addie, stop freaking out, it's just dinner."

"You say that because you like your parents. You don't understand-"

"She's not that bad," Naomi plays, she hasn't seen Addison this alive in weeks, even if it is due, in part, to absolute fear. She returns her attention to Kennedy as her friend pulls the pins from her hair and then completely redoes it. "I miss babies," Naomi states reflectively.

"Take one of mine," Addison calls out over the sound of hairspray.

"Don't tempt me," Naomi laughs, easing back into her friendship. It has taken time, and there will be many, many more awkward moments, but for now the temporary hiatus is lovely, and Naomi takes full advantage.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"They have it easy," Sam declares, rolling the bottle in his hands, trying to stimulate Charlotte into taking a few more ounces. Sure, they're outnumbered four-to-two, but Maya was four children all in herself. He always blamed Naomi for her spunk, but he's spent most of the night wondering why it is they stopped after only one.

"Well, the next diaper is yours then," Naomi grins, running her fingers through Ellie's fiery mane, the child curled up in her lap, stumbling through a book that she got from school. She helps Ellie sound out the big words, helps her flip the pages when her tiny hands get too tired to make the effort, and eventually ends up letting her fall asleep across her legs, figuring she could use some human contact. Because Naomi has seen Mark try, and it's not that he's more focused on the babies, it's just that he doesn't have endless energy anymore, and one has to suffer.

"This was always my favorite part," Sam smiles, Audrey passed out on his shoulder, Charlotte on the couch next to him.

"Maya was the cutest sleeper," Naomi agrees. "Her little fists all curled up and the little pout she had."

"It was the only time she was ever quiet," Sam points out. The conversations that girl could have, he shudders at the marathon tea parties he took part in.

"We should have had more," Naomi frowns, cuddling the child on her a little closer, reveling in the sparks. She and Sam have been in a stand off. She's reluctant to give him the power that would come with her moving back in, but she yearns for things to go back to normal. And she'd ask Addison to weigh in, but she's occupied, and the decision is too big to make alone.

"Yeah," Sam pauses awkwardly, it always amazed him when they were thinking the same thing. "So," he smiles wildly, "How much trouble do you think we're going to be in when Addison learns that you invited a boy over while you were babysitting?"

Naomi laughs despite the juvenile attempt, "I'm not sure she'll notice."

~-~-~-~-~-~

"That was..." Mark takes a breath trying to think of a proper phrase to encompass what they've just experience as he juggles the house keys.

"My mother," Addison fills in for him, tossing her head back as his fingers fiddle. She slides to a halt just outside the door, her thumping heart audible. She slides a hand up his chest as he reaches for the door handle, fingers slipping in between the buttons and finding warm flesh. Then she places her cheek against his expectantly, his arms hanging limply by his sides.

Mark feels his mouth dry to cotton as she caresses his abs. This certainly came out of left field, and not wanting to feel disappointed he simply pecks her lips, lightly gripping her waist. "You look good tonight."

"Thanks," Addison frowns, her not-so subtle hint not at all received. He looks good too, mouthwatering good. They're matched in all black, all New York, but no one noticed. "We should," Addison sputters, pointing at the closed door.

"Right."

~-~-~-~-~-~

Addison selects something a little more daring for bed than her normal routine of shorts and Mark's t-shirts. It's blue, lacy, and usually does the trick. But listening to Mark rant on about not being comfortable with the twins downstairs alone in their own room as she is spread over the bed seductively has her feeling like this may all go to waste. And they need this, so badly. As an overly affectionate couple she's struggled accepting the balance between the time he has his hands off of her, and the time he is touching her warm skin. And she can only imagine how he's been doing.

"They're fine, we can bring them up later. They need to get used to it."

"They're only a month old Addison," Mark chastises, unclasping his belt and kicking his pants across the room lazily.

"I was hoping," Addison emphasizes, "for a little time tonight."

"Just means that I have to trip down the stairs in the middle of the night-"

"Mark, I want sex."

"What?" He blurts out, popping out the bathroom with a toothbrush in the corner of his mouth.

"I know you heard me," she responds, pointing to the ensemble, the sharp heels still attached to her feet. She could have sworn that she had his undivided attention at one point this evening due to the cleavage her dress displayed. Maybe she was wrong.

"It's-we haven't," Mark shrugs. He can't even remember the last time they did anything remotely sexual. He can't remember the last time she let him hold her hand for more than thirty seconds. She just doesn't have the urge to be touched lately, and through many months of patience, he's finally let go of his need to coddle her when she hurts. Plus, he's had more than enough extracurricular activities to keep him occupied. Lately, he falls asleep before his head hits the pillow.

"I know," Addison sighs, "And I...don't want you to...you know, do what you do...so I thought...maybe we could have sex tonight."

"Do what I do?" Mark questions, pulling his shirt overhead, not opposed to joining her on the bed. He can practically feel his lungs leap into overdrive.

"This offer will expire, we only have twenty minutes before someone starts crying about something I'm certain, so if you want to argue or debate-" her words are cut off by his attack, and she relishes in the feel of his familiar fingers tracing her flesh.

Mark gives in willingly, his lips finding her neck, stopping only to ask, "Are you sure?"

"It's a good night," Addison elaborates. "Mother and all."

She laughs when he flips her under him, moans when he enters her, and can't keep herself from screaming when her world bursts into a bright mosaic of Crayola colors.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Think we can hide all day in bed?" Mark asks the following morning, engulfing her in his embrace, breathing in the wonderful scent of the hair that he has been missing. It's fruity and flowery and citrus laced in a way he can't explain. The perfect blend and pitch of intoxicating smells. He's actually missed simply holding her; he wonders when he turned into such a pussy. "Addison?"

And as quickly as she rose, she falls back into silence. Last night was a good night because she was out of the house, she rationalizes. She was away from her children, and thus she could breathe. She has officially turned into her mother. And there's no one to talk to because the only person that understood the way that Judith is, the only person who experienced it in its heyday, is dead.

Sleep didn't come easily last night, Mark nearly suffocating her in his relentless grip, returned to time and time again after he got up to deal with one child or another. But he needed it, needs it. Because she's been removed from their relationship, she swore it'd get better, and one of the few things she does know is that she doesn't want to lose him. And she feels guilty for having that sort of want for a man and not her own flesh and blood.

"Addie?"

"Susan is coming by at noon," Addison answers. Susan wanted to make them lunch and spend the day on the beach since Judith monopolized their evening yesterday claiming that she would be departing soon, evidence of which Addison has yet to see.

"That will be nice," Mark answers. His childhood be damned, he feels safer with Susan around. He feels like he has a partner, a friend in the war. Someone to be on his side first, unlike Naomi and Sam whose loyalties are tied down to the redhead.

"I think," Addison starts, feeling the moisture in the corner of her dry eyes begin to build. "Today is a bad day."

"That's alright," Mark comforts, placing a lingering kiss on her hairline. He brushes a thumb along her cheek reassuringly, the sun barely creeping into their room. "Thank you for telling me." It seems so ridiculous, but it's a step, and he has to encourage her, support her, Violet said. It's about learning to be with another person for once, learning to be a semi-healthy relationship. It's about achieving the dreams he now has in place for himself. So he'll listen, and he'll learn to be emotional in outlets other than anger and lust. Mark can survive, he can adapt, for her.

Violet should be billing him, he decides then and there.

"Addison," Mark clears his throat, "Maybe you could invite Naomi over and you girls could go shopping. Get out of the house or something. That seemed to help."

"Sure," Addison agrees easily, slipping away into her cloud.

"The girls all need new clothes I think," Mark says unsure. The twins' pajamas hang off their feet, and Kennedy's dresses are tight around her little arms. He can't recall the last time they bought anything for the growing children besides diapers, it's all he has time to pick up on the way home. "And you know how Mom loves spoiling her grandchildren."

"True."

"We can turn this day around Addison," Mark tells her confidently. "All we have to do is try. And if it doesn't, it doesn't, okay?" His voice betrays him, because he's terrified. Because she's still not exactly logical, but he wants to be on her team now. "We'll just send everyone back to their hotels and tell them to stay there," he grins, attempting to be in charge for her. She's always had the reigns though, so it's a plane of land mines and trick wires all waiting to tear him up. "Okay?" he asks again, feeling her shudder beneath him.

"Yes," Addison whispers. It all sounds like a good plan, she just hopes that once they squirm out of their warm cocoon that he will hold up his end of the deal and not drag her into dinner plans she doesn't have the energy for, or pin her against the rest of the room as he so often does, whether for her own good or his entertainment she's always unsure.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"How do expect all of us to cram into your house? You don't even have enough chairs to host a dinner party," Judith accuses, and she's correct, Addison never meant to have anything other than casual get-togethers in her new home.

"Please just get in the car," Addison says, grasping her purse tighter in frustration. The day had seemingly been turned around. Shopping was, as Mark puts it, cathartic somehow. And even though she feels no connection with the kids destroying the pristine furniture in her home, it doesn't mean she doesn't know a cute dress when she sees one, or cute baby shoes.

Addison, more a boutique person, even managed to make it through the mall with Susan, and took a giant pretzel for lunch, having worked up the energy to laugh and sip at her water in the food court. It was nice to be out in the open, the have the public swarming around their bags, and every time she got a little wayward, Naomi would squeeze her hand and show her another thing she had to have if she was going to survive as a mother. They replenished the dwindling sock supply, found new toys to help Kennedy's booming development, and even picked out a special gift for Ellie, who tagged along on her best behavior the entire day.

Susan lavished the girl's red curls with new accessories, pulling her out of the braid frump, and held her hand tightly explaining that she was a new Grandma and that Ellie could call her Nana if she wanted. And when the day became too much, when Ellie was nagging to be held and cuddled, and Addison thought her ankles might break under the strain of walking all day, Susan declared that it was time to go home, rest, and force Mark to make dinner for them.

"I will not just get into the car," Judith objects, grabbing her coat and purse anyway. "Addison-"

"Look," Addison says forcefully. "I didn't invite you here. I don't expect a thing from you. Ever. You're free to leave whenever you see fit. But since you are still in town for some reason, I'm asking you to come to dinner. And to be civil with the people I have chosen to be in my life. I don't care if you disapprove about my life choices, or my children, or my fiancé. I don't care if you think my home is far too small, that my furniture isn't ornate enough, or that it's wrong that my living room faces the ocean. I'm done. Caring about you, for you. Get in the car, don't get in the car, I don't care," Addison finishes strongly, stalking to the elevators. She can hear the soft clicks of her mother's heels behind her and they spend the elevator ride in a mortified silence.

Addison's never been this wild with her before. She's never said one word about how she feels, because she wasn't raised to feel things. She wasn't raised to be a part of issues. Addison was to watch, to ignore, to pretend, but she's far too old now, and far too tired to keep participating a game she never wanted to be a player for in the first place. The slight sigh that escapes Judith's mouth is comforting, and the revving of the engine of the tiny red convertible she brought specifically to rebel is even more satisfying.

"I only want the best for you Addison," Judith scolds softly as they make a right at a red light. And in her own perverted way, it's the absolute truth.

"As long as it doesn't interfere with your image," Addison adds, a smile gracing her lips for an uncountable time today.

"No," Judith argues, grimacing as she comes face to face with a conversation that's long overdue. "I did the best I could with you Addison. You always had your mind made up about everything. It was all so black and white, and I could never do anything right in your eyes...but I did the best that I could."

"Neither one of us believes that," Addison replies, turning on her blinker and shifting into fourth gear aggressively, her hair flying, tangling behind her in the breeze created by her car.

~-~-~-~-~-~

When Mark making dinner turned out to be ordering pizza, Addison could only watch as her mother squirmed in her seat, carefully slicing the crust with her knife and fork as everyone else let the grease slip down their fingers. She let Sam talk about the new book he had planned, and allowed Mark to dominate the conversations about the kids.

She realizes, as she lies Kennedy down in her crib asleep, that she didn't say much tonight, but that it was okay. Conversation flowed better than the wine with stories Susan concocted to make everyone laugh, and medical cases Naomi scrounged to dress up Addison's departure from hospital life and her transition into a private practice. She was allowed to fill her mouth slowly, sip her beverage slowly, and simply enjoy instead of dread the company of those in her house. Maya even offered to help Ellie into her pajamas and read her a bedtime story so that Mark could have the evening off to play with the big kids.

"You were right," Addison whispers an hour later, the house surprisingly silent, Mark at her side staring contently at the ceiling.

Rather than gloat at her admission, and protest that he is always right, Mark places a gentle kiss on her cheek. They turned the day around. He managed to prove that it could be done. Not every instance will result in victory, but this one will be savored.

Today he is her hero again, he fixed it all, chased the bad away. Today he is worthy.

This time when their lips find each other it isn't forced. It isn't something born of remorse or good timing. They gently explore, mapping out subtle changes, joining in a bliss that only the other can provide.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Thank you for coming...Dr. Montgomery," Charles quickly catches himself. He remembers their screaming match last go around, and he's not about to disrespect the legal guardian of one of his students again. "I called you today because Elianna is in with the nurse."

"What's wrong? What are her symptoms?" Addison spouts, medical mind spinning into overdrive.

"Dr. Montgomery," Charles laughs, looking at the sharp new letterhead on his desk. "Our nurse assures me she's fine."

"Charles, I-"

"She fell asleep in class," he rectifies before the redheaded she-devil in front of him can lose her cool. "Every single day this week," he finishes.

"Oh."

"We weren't going to call you, I know how difficult things have been. Her father spoke with me personally, before he left. But...it's disrupting," he clears her throat when she tries to intercede, "and moreover, it's unhealthy for her. Her teacher said she loves free time, and now she uses it to curl up under her desk. I'm not telling you how to parent your child, but I am suggesting she take an early day, and spend the weekend getting well rested for Monday. We weren't sure if you were aware of the problem."

"She's fine at home," Addison replies without a clue. She can't even remember the last conversation she had with the five year old. She ignored her in the mall and Ellie's always so wrapped around Mark's fingers that there's never a chance at home. "She...we...there's newborns- none of us are sleeping very much, and we've had company all week," Addison admits, gulping back her newfound guilt. It's just another pile amongst the masses.

"I understand," Charles tells her sympathetically. It wasn't all that long ago that he was up at odd hours changing diapers and trying to quell angered screams of frustration.

"Ok," Addison nods numbly. "We should...I should, which way is the nurses' office exactly?" Addison asks, her three inch heels dug into his carpet, a somber look on her face, and an empty heart to match. This was not the way she envisioned today.

As her nerves rise inside the school, she regrets telling Mark that it was okay to send Cooper in his place as he ran off to yet another emergency surgery that Charlotte King said she needed him for. And while it's her turn to officially start work the following Monday, she has yet to find a time and way to tell Mark. Judith left the day after their "dinner party", without promises to call and Susan was forced to follow two days later, yesterday, when one of Nancy's twins broke her ankle and needed a babysitter.

Addison regrets trying to step up so soon all alone. Maybe she was better off saying that she was trying without attempting to prove it. She needs more than a driver in this situation. She needs advice, a confidante, a partner. She can't parent 'her child' without him.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"You must be Elianna's mother," the young woman across the room greets, stuffing backpacks with notes home and forgotten lunch bags.

"Addison," she corrects, extending her hand, noting all of a sudden that her quick fix does nothing to remedy the issue that she is Ellie's aunt not mother. But she finds she doesn't particularly mind, in fact she's rather partial to the teacher's innocence in all of this, and she certainly doesn't miss the pitied looks and somber pats on the back. Maybe in some parts of the world what she is doing is considered admirable and above and beyond, but she has no choice here. Her hands were tied by Mark, secured by Pierce.

There was never a decision to be a part of, never a question to be answered.

"I'm new," the teacher explains, "and I know I may just be overly concerned with Elianna, but I thought you should be aware-"

"It's nice," Addison eases, "that you worry."

"Yes well, not all parents think like you," she smiles. "Anyway," she clears her throat, "I put all of the handouts we did today, as well as her books in her bag, so you should be ready for the weekend."

"Thank you," Addison replies, attempting to remember how to interact with people outside of her family and close friends on a normal level. This woman has no idea who she's dealing with, she hasn't heard the water cooler gossip yet about all of her students and unfortunate situations they've landed themselves in. It's so freeing, to be herself, in a mind and body that she doesn't recognize any longer.

"She's very bright," the teacher points out, in return gaining a blank stare. "I know I'm supposed to tell everyone that their child is a genius who will grow up and cure cancer but...she is something special."

Addison's teeth sink into her bottom lip intuitively. She really wouldn't know the first thing about Elianna and her schoolwork. Mark handles that; Mark handles everything. She assumed that she was doing all right, but it was only elementary school, there were so many harder things to come in her life. A world without cancer though, Addison can dream that, and it's beautiful. Defeated by her lack of ability to relate she nods knowingly and offers, "I should...get going, get her home."

"I understand," the teacher says, turning back to the group of children who are filing into the room from what Addison can only guess was one of their many recess breaks. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to the remainder of the school year."

"Likewise," Addison replies, detaching a drowsy Ellie from her leg, noticing how she doesn't say goodbye to any one of her classmates.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Mister Charles says I have to go home," Ellie announces jovially, renewed by her release, hoping into the car.

"Mister Charles must really like you. I never got to go home early from school," Cooper tells her, the words falling out of his mouth like butter. "Sometimes I even had to stay late."

He's so naturally equipped to deal with children, it makes her envious. She can do babies. Babies with life threatening conditions and charts attached to their lives. She hears them discuss teachers and classroom pets, positive this is most undivided interaction Ellie has received since the twins arrived, even with Susan around. She's already failing and she hasn't even properly gave it her all. She doesn't understand how people do it, divvy their time magically.

"Here we are," Cooper says quietly, Ellie asleep, head against her window, the other three silent in the back of the silver SUV.

"Thank you," Addison says, monotone and stunted. A big day out, she supposes.

Her first real day alone, uninterrupted, is more accurate. She knew it would have to happen. Inevitable, from the moment Charlotte King lied and said she's be okay without him for a month. They're doctors, surgeons, their life is not their own, their time goes to the highest bidder.

And she misses it. Misses cutting, misses the blood splatter on her clothes, streaking her gloves. She misses talking to people who don't know anything about her except that she's going to save them. She misses the blind trust involved, the heroism of every story.

Mark still doesn't trust her, despite their attempt at conversation on the matter. He gets up every single time someone cries at night, regardless of whether or not she wants to help or tells him that she doesn't need him. He takes Ellie to school, he picks her up. Half the time the other three go along for the rides. Every time he leaves the house, whether it be for diapers or a gallon of milk for Ellie's fruity cereal, he asks if she is okay, if she can handle it.

And it's a bit infuriating. She can take care of children. She can do this. Because she can do anything. If she has to, backed into a corner, push coming to shove. She's managed far more difficult procedures, faced far worse odds, and overcome.

It may be competitive, it may be for the wrong reasons, but she's resolved that it won't hurt. It may just be the thing the doctor ordered. It may be the only thing that pushes her through the rest of the day without wanting to skulk off and drown in a bottle of vodka.

She's going to prove Mark wrong, and more importantly she will prove her mother wrong.

~-~-~-~-~-~

The extended nap got them to two in the afternoon, but no phone call from Mark has Addison concerned that she may be doing the dinner and bedtime routines solo tonight. She's tried leaving him a patient and easy going message, instructing him to call when he gets a chance, but so far nothing has happened.

Ellie heads toward the living room, her fists buried in her blurry eyes, uniform wrinkled from her quest for sleep. She crawls onto the couch, avoiding the two newest babies in the bunch, and wriggles her way onto Addison's lap. She feels her aunt tense up before jerking the blanket she trapped over both of them and relaxing back into the cushions. "When is Daddy coming home?" Ellie asks, looking around the quiet house for other signs of life.

"Elianna, your daddy left you here with me and Mark, remember?"

"Yeah," Ellie yawns. "Mark said I can call him Daddy. Cause Scottie was making fun'of me cause he calls his daddy Daddy, and I was calling him Mark."

Addison's not really sure when this started, or that she's heard him be referenced to as the father of the household, but it seems best not to mess with the fragile situation, she'll ask Violet later. She can feel Ellie squirm under her chin and finally settle when she comes up with an answer. "Your dad is not Mark Ellie, but if you want to call Mark that then it's your choice. You don't have to though, just because the kids at school make fun of you. You don't ever have to do anything because someone makes fun of you, you understand?" Addison questions. It's an important life lesson, one she wishes someone would have bestowed upon her at some point before she made a fool of herself in sixth grade. And then again throughout high school.

"Can I sleep over at Scottie's?" Ellie asks next, already haven moved forward with her thoughts. She tightens her grip on the neckline of Addison's gray sweatshirt, and yawns loudly.

"Scottie, the kid who was making fun of you?" Addison asks, trying to clarify. The world does not work like this, really. Except Mark always made fun of her, and here she is chasing after him.

"He's my boyfriend," Ellie smiles, remembering the cookie he gave her at lunch last week when he declared her to belong to him. Scottie said that's how his daddy got his mommy.

"I guess...We...I should talk to Scott's mother first, right?" Addison questions the child in her arms. She doesn't know how these things go. Judith never cared, she's not sure Judith ever knew when she was out of the house as compared to when she was up hiding in her room. But she doesn't want to become her mother, and she said she'd take better care of them than Pierce does. Besides this is what Naomi would do. And that's her only model to go off of.

"Scottie," Ellie giggles, laying back down, but still needing to cuddle after nap time. "Can we call his mommy now?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Addison replies, thinking back over the course of the day. The phone call that interrupted her tense morning alone, the hibernation that the entire house has been participating in up until now. Logic says to keep her home.

"But Daddy said I could and I was a good girl with Nana!" Ellie mounts her argument, at a much louder volume than her previous conversation, her sweet demeanor abandoned.

"Alright," Addison shrugs, watching the five year old lose her sleepy composure. "We can call."

~-~-~-~-~-~

It was until Ellie ripped Scottie's phone number out of her backpack, instantly undoing the chaos that lived in there and spewing it out onto the hardwood floor, that Addison thought she was just playing along. She never contemplated actually having to do the duties she agreed to; it was all to get her to shut up about it and not go into whiny freak out mode. But one awkward conversation with a perfectly nice woman later, ("Hello...I'm...ah...Elianna and Scott are in the same class at school and I was...wondering...") one more unreturned call to Mark's cell ("Just wondering if you are going to be around for dinner..."), and one difficult feeding later Addison is about to have to make good on her deal.

Addison marches up the stairs, to where Ellie announced that she was headed to pack her things (taking after her mother, four suitcases full of stuffed animals and toys). As she returns books to their correct shelves and places tiny shoes into the bag in their place she realizes that she has no clue about how to get everyone out to the car and through the Los Angeles traffic without serious problems.

And coming home to diapers that need changing and babies that need baths sounds incredibly unappealing. She yearns to be washing off blood and guts instead. So she resorts to the bottom of the barrel. "If you wanted to stay here tonight...we could have a sleepover."

"I want a sleepover," Ellie grins.

"You want to stay here and have a sleepover? Watch movies and eat ice cream?" Addison bribes guiltily, a smile tumbling off her lips. "I can paint your toenails a pretty pink."

"Yeah!" Ellie exclaims, running back to the bed, dropping her stuffed dolphin as she goes. A dolphin that Mark knows she can't sleep without for some reason. He's stopped thinking it reasonable to ask why about any of her odd quirks.

"But then you can't go to Scottie's, okay?"

"I wanna go to Scottie's," Ellie complains, shifting away from her aunt, seated on the low rise bed.

"What if you get scared and have bad dreams?" Fear is Addison's next stop, she won't say it isn't pitiful, but asking Cooper or Sam to come over and drive her somewhere is a level of pathetic she just can't handle for a second time in one day. And there has yet to be a safe babysitter. She could call a service, but then Mark would get upset and be confused if he got home before her.

It's hard to move on melting ice.

"I won't," Ellie proclaims, opening her dresser and digging through clothes.

"Ok," Addison sighs, rising from her spot, the obscene tangents of purple in the room beginning to make her ill. "I'll go get everyone ready."

"I don't want the stupid babies to come!" Ellie screeches suddenly, stopping her aunt in the doorway.

Addison spins around in her slippers, mostly unimpressed, but sympathetic. She doesn't want them to come either, because it adds about thirty minutes of preparations she wants no part in. "They have to come. There's no one here to watch them."

"Auntie Nae-"

"Aunt Naomi is at work. If you want to go to Scottie's then we all have to take you over there, including the babies," Addison says firmly. Maybe this was the only push Ellie needed. Instead she gets an indignant huff of acceptance and is left once more establishing the quickest way to get this all over with.

~-~-~-~-~-~

Addison returns home with a splitting headache, the other three girls behind her still screaming, managing strength she didn't knew that they possessed. It's been more of the same since she shifted into drive and pulled out of the suburban area miles away. Addison sinks down into the plush leather of her seat, and lets her head thunk against the steering wheel, inadvertently causing the horn to sound.

She honestly thought she could handle this, but as she dissolves into fresh tears, she realizes that she underestimated how outnumbered she was. She's perfectly fine with raising the dead, literally, but after forty minutes of nonstop cries she's ready to rip her hair out. And now she gets to somehow pull herself from the vehicle, truck everyone inside, and figure out what it is that is wrong, if it can be figured out to begin with. Because sometimes they just like to cry, and she knew that going into this, but she's too tired for it to be okay for another second.

The knock on the glass peels her away from her thoughts of throwing in the towel, and she sniffles adjusting the key so she can roll down the window.

"You need help?" Mark asks. "I heard the horn."

She wants to crumble into his arms, tell him all about her horrible day, and soak his shoulder, but her pride won't let her budge. She climbs out of the vehicle without a word and throws a bag over her shoulder reaching for a carseat to unbuckle. Kennedy gives a big toothless smile when she sees Mark and it makes Addison want to go jump in the ocean.

"Bad day?" Mark asks once they get everyone inside, Audrey in his arms quieting down just from his presence. But he doesn't notice anymore, he just holds them and works it out. He's more focused on the tears coursing down Addison's face as she digs through the silverware for a tiny spoon to feed Kennedy. "You're going to have to talk to me eventually." He's careful about asking where Ellie is because she's clearly not present, and despite most of his actions, he did hear her when she asked for his trust back.

He hadn't realized how much he was questioning her, how much he was hovering. He was trying to look out for the girls, but he hurt Addison in the process. Collateral damage, just the way he operates. His whole life has been about screwing up, but with Ellie and the babies...he just is doing something right, and it feels good to not be the fuck up anymore.

"I can't do this anymore," Addison reveals, shoveling a spoonful of orange goo into Kennedy's mouth, not bothering to wipe her chin when she spits half of it back out as she attempts to swallow. "There's too many of them Mark."

"It was only one day. It will get easier," he assures her, stealing a kitchen chair and dragging it over. "They'll get older and more self-sufficient, and before we know it we'll be driving Ellie off to college."

"I don't want them here. And yes, it's selfish, but Mark I can barely handle the two that aren't mobile. I think they are better off with Pierce, he-"

"No. No, we agreed Addison," Mark stops, yanking the bottle out of Audrey's mouth suddenly, sending her into a fit. "They aren't going back. We aren't throwing them around like dolls."

"I never wanted this! You tricked me into it." Addison tosses the half empty jar into the sink, enjoying the sound as it shatters. "And I had to go to Ellie's school and pick her up, and I had to meet her teacher, and I had to talk to Scottie's mother. I'm not ready for this, I don't know how to do any of it."

"Neither do I!" Mark yells, offended. He thought they were building the dream life, instead he's been betrayed by her words. He thought he was doing what was best, and it turns out that she doesn't care, never has.

"You can't just toss a person into this Mark, it's not fair!"

He watches her stalk off, unable to chase her because the children around him are imploding and he knows better than to aggravate her fragile temper. He shouts a feeble, "Addison!" and then surrenders to the hurricane.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"How long," Mark demands, observing Addison curled into a ball on the bed, vaguely reminiscent of the last few weeks. "How long have you been waiting to say that?"

And Addison evades, rejects participating in his interrogation. "I have to be back at work on Monday, and then what? Who will watch them when you get called in?"

"I'll call Naomi and tell her we need more time-"

"I said I would be back to work on Monday," Addison illuminates, digging herself a bigger hole.

"And when exactly did you plan on telling me this? As you walked out the door on Monday?" Mark feels the anger building in his boiling blood. He's four steps away from punching a wall, one from walking out. If he didn't have things keeping him here, if he wasn't so certain that it was her psychotic ass that he wanted to be with forever, he'd already be one foot out the door.

"Does it matter?"

"To me," Mark paces. "Yeah, it matters."

"All we ever do is talk about it. Nothing happens! I'm tired of pouring myself out to you and then watching things go right back to how they were."

"Then let's deal with it," Mark decides, clapping his together. He's good with taking action.

"I want to move. You said to wait, so we waited," Addison shrugs, their argument completely losing its momentum as Mark does a 180, screwing with her plans to yell and scream until they fell into bed.

"I don't think it's a good idea to attempt right now-"

"We need space," Addison argues. "I'm tired of stepping on crayons and tripping over shoes."

"Fine," Mark relents. He can't win every battle.

"We can move?" Addison asks unsure, flipping over to face him, kicking out of the mound of blankets she was seeking refuge under.

"Yes, to my house. We haven't sold it, there's more space, and it won't be a huge production. But there's conditions."

"Oh," Addison frowns playfully. "Really?"

"You have to decorate the nursery this time. I'm not picking out anymore girly shit. And I'm not painting any rooms, so hire someone. And I'm not lugging that huge dresser downstairs with Sam so you'll have to hire someone for that too. And-"

"I'll handle it," Addison interrupts. She can orchestrate a move. She may not be able to handle four kids all day long but she can handle grown men in work uniforms.

"And I'm tired of getting messages from Pierce on my phone because you won't return his calls. You will sign those papers and get them to our lawyer to look over on Monday," Mark asserts bravely.

"Mark, they belong with their father. I know you think he's incompetent but so were you. And you learned. Someone has to give him the chance to learn, and it's not like he's beating them-"

This is Mark's breaking point, the reason why he doesn't want to discuss any of it. Because it's more than personal, it's about more than Pierce not teaching Ellie to tie her shoes. Children intrinsically know when they are unwanted, and he wants to avoid anyone ever having to feel like that again. They should be with people who want them and he isn't satisfied that Pierce does. "He...doesn't...He's not good with them."

"A lot of people aren't good with kids," Addison refutes, gesturing to herself. "You can't save every kid from a less than perfect parents. The world isn't fair, we know that."

"They deserve better than some jackass who can't remember to pick up his kids after work. They deserve to be remembered," Mark says sullenly, climbing onto the bed. "If either one of them gets seriously injured and you don't have legal custody Addison..."

"Then you sign," Addison tells him. "If you want them that badly, we'll tell Pierce to change the paperwork and you...can have them."

"He won't," Mark murmurs.

"We can try."

"When we get married it's all going to be the same so why does it matter who signs?" Mark dares, the topic of marriage somehow a now outlawed thing in their house.

"I don't want to kids I gave birth to, okay? Right now, I want nothing to do with any of them, but I think it would be easier for me...if there were a smaller amount of whining mouths. Maybe they could come and spend weekends with us. I don't want to cut them out of your life Mark, I'm just saying that...I can't do this, and I need you to accept that I'm still...broken."

"You really think it would have been worse than this...if you had kept our kid instead?" Mark asks childishly, looking out toward the dusky sky. There are no stars here tonight.

"Mark don't- that was a long time ago...things were different then." Nothing could be worse than this, however, and he knows that without her saying it. He knows how hard that was for her, regardless.

"All I want is a life with you...but you push Addison, you push so hard."

And just like that he's successfully made her feel like a villain for voicing her opinions. But, he has a point. And he's hurting far more than he lets on so she digs deep into her soul, into her heart to give something genuine.

"I always thought a winter wedding would be beautiful. The snow and the lights. Winter..."

"In New York," Mark finishes. He can't imagine taking the dive anywhere else. Something told him he'd never be the guy to ditch off to Vegas one Thursday afternoon.

"And we're moving," Addison tacks on, making sure he doesn't forget.

"And we're keeping all of the kids," Mark replies.

Addison takes an unsteady breath, they're back at square one. Judith was wrong about Mark, and her friends, but she was right about the house and she's right about Pierce. "I can't-"

"We'll interview for a nanny all weekend. Call the best agencies in town," Mark negotiates. "Or we'll see if Charlotte has room at the daycare at St. Ambrose and they can go there."

They were raised by nannies. By people with names that weren't Mother or Father. They were born to people who saw them less than they saw their evil country club friends or international business associates. She always said she wouldn't do it, she wouldn't jump off the cliff of having someone else witness her child's first steps and first words, but it feels like there is no other option now. Before she can answer though, the phone is ringing and Mark's already made a move for it, successfully ending their negotiations.

"You need to go get Ellie," Mark says after he hangs up.

"I can stay here. You go," Addison tells him, already in her pajamas, hair tied loosely behind her head.

"No, Eleanore said she had a bad dream and keeps wanting her mother. That's you now."

"I'm not-"

"You are," Mark nods. Because in ten years Addison is going to be the one taking her shopping for homecoming dresses, and teaching her about boys and their evil ways. She'll be the one squealing with Ellie about her first kiss, her first boyfriend. And in twenty years Ellie may not even remember another mother besides Addison.

She's become the replacement, an unwilling fill in.

"Go," he instructs. "You can do it."

Addison slips into the closet to find something presentable and when she returns she finds herself wound in Mark's strong arms, his breath trickling down her bare spine. She senses it's more about him than her and submits, placing her head on his shoulder like she always does, fingertips playing with the tufts of hair on the back of his neck.

"I'll be here when you get home," he reassures, pulling away sheepishly, hand caught in the cookie jar. Even when Addison is terrified and darting from her positions she's still the best source of comfort. "We're getting there Addie, it just...isn't as perfect as we always thought it would be."

"Yeah," Addison mourns. Being with Mark was never easy, but it was easier than her neglectful husband, easier than going out and trying to find someone new. "I do love you, very much," Addison whispers, words vomiting from her mouth in repentance.

"I know," Mark smiles. It never gets old hearing it. He never thought he'd be this idiot. He never thought he'd be smitten just like Derek was all those years ago.

"Okay."

"Good luck, and remember..." Mark smirks, "You owe me mind-blowing make-up sex for picking that fight when you get home."

"Yeah well we'll see about that," Addison warns, heading downstairs. She's going to be lucky if she doesn't doze off at the wheel. Today has been completely draining.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"I'm sorry to have called so late," Eleanore apologizes, inviting Addison into her dimly lit home. "She just came out and wouldn't stop crying. I tried everything, but then I thought I should probably call you-"

She's interrupted by Ellie dashing through her entryway and out onto her aunt's legs.

"-she is pretty upset," Eleanore finishes as Addison lifts the redhead up, letting her curl her legs around her black coat. "I'll go grab her things, maybe we can try again some other time."

"Ellie," Addison soothes, the child incoherently sobbing into her shoulder. "It's okay to get scared on sleepovers. Happens all the time."

"Yeah?" Ellie asks, watery eyes spilling over onto her cheeks every time she blinks.

"Even to big kids," Addison answers. Parts of this come so easily, most of them with the children that aren't hers.

"I for-got Gummy, and Scottie said I could use his teddy. But I could not sleep and Scottie was snoring."

Addison nods and pushes Ellie's head back to her shoulder, knitting her fingers through the tangled mop of curls. She has no idea who Gummy is or that this child had a safety blanket of sorts. Chock one up to learning.

She gladly accepts Ellie's purple bag when Eleanore returns, thanks her, apologizes, promises to arrange another play date and dutifully smiles when Eleanore tells her that she has a lovely daughter. Everyone seems to get it but her, still. And Mark's so confident that it will come with time that she's afraid to tell him that she feels no more sentiment, no more attached to the twins than the day she first met them.

But there are things we bury for one another, there are things we shoulder for the sake of shouldering, so Addison simply tucks Ellie into the car and jumps aboard with everyone else's naïve sense of hope and wonder.

Tomorrow she'll wake up and do it all over again, but maybe one day she'll feel like a mother when she has to go save a child in the middle of the night instead of an impostor cloaked in designer clothes that have yet to be destroyed by grimy hands.

Maybe one day she'll feel like the person everyone keeps confusing her for.

~-~-~-~-~-~