The Would-Be Thief and a Handful of Time
Rating: PG-13
Characters:Mark/Addison
Summary: As surgeons, we all see ourselves as "fixers". But sometimes, we disagree on how (and if) things can be fixed.
Notes: Written for the Altered Mental State Ficathon at hawkfromhandsaw, but submitted ridiculously late. (I don't know why I always think I can be reformed and, you know, punctual.) Many thanks to grand_delusions, roadtoforever and lareina95 for the beta.
Feedback: All comments and constructive criticism are much, much appreciated. If you like menial labor, my email is prosperina@gmx.net.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Shonda Rhimes & co.
***
“Men will always be mad,
and those who think they can cure them are the maddest of all.”-- Voltaire
twenty-two
Living in a hotel had certain hazards: unwanted dinner guests was just one of them.
Addison Montgomery had just finished the last of her steak when Mark Sloan sauntered into the hotel restaurant. As usual, he wore his unshaven jaw and blue jeans ensemble. She pointedly ignored the way his t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and chest.
"Mark," she said, placing her cutlery in the middle of her plate.
He slipped into the seat across from her. "Addie."
Day twenty-one of the pact had come and gone with too little fanfare, Addison thought. He'd blindsided her when she should have seen him coming.
She took a small sip of her red wine and swirled the liquid around in her glass. Other hospital employees may be able to take their tequila and hard liquor on a daily basis, but Addison could not. She was loath to admit, but she was... advancing in age. With that came thoughts about babies, thoughts about backyard barbequing, and thoughts about family vacations in the Bahamas. If Addison was honest with herself, she wanted it all.
This was a picture she could not see Mark Sloan in--not then, not now, not ever.
All he had ever been able to promise her was a good time.
But at least the promises he made always came true.
"I thought you were avoiding me," she said. "Are my feminine wiles getting too difficult for you to resist?"
"On the contrary," he drawled. "I just thought I'd give you a break. We both know that out of the two of us, I can hold out longer."
Addison scoffed. "I'll believe that when you get to 60 days."
"I'll have you begging," he promised.
"I'm sure I will be--for you and your ego to move out of the way so I can breathe!"
Mark grinned. "Is that the best you can do? I'm pretty sure you used that line back in med school."
"Well, you and your ego left a big impression on me."
"I'm sure that's not the only part of me that left a... big impression."
She stared at him incredulously and then let out a laugh. "I almost can't believe you just said that. It's official, I'm back in high school."
"I think I would've liked that. Knowing you in high school."
"I had braces and no breasts in high school. You wouldn't have talked to me."
He gave her an appraising look as she stood up. "Oh, I don't know about that," he said softly. "I think I definitely would have talked to you."
She shook her head. "You're shameless. Come on, I'll let you walk me to my room."
Addison missed this part of their relationship the most: the talking and the (somewhat) innocent teasing. Over time it'd been buried by the booty calling, the towel wearing and the rolling in damp sheets. The sex was fabulous and Mark's relentless black t-shirt would not let her forget it... but she still missed the words.
As it happened, living in hotels had other hazards: sex and infidelities, just to name a few.
A man with wild eyes stood at the reception. When he spoke, his voice shook with rage. "I know my wife is up there, damn it. The whore is up there with the asshole she's seeing. Give me the room number, now, or I'll look for them myself."
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave..."
The next part happened in a blur. A gun was pulled. Someone screamed. Addison could feel Mark tugging her towards the safety of the elevators, but she didn't follow.
Instead, she found herself moving towards the man with the wild eyes; she felt his fear, his anguish and his desperate need to save his marriage. She felt like she understood him.
The man did not understand her.
"Addison, no!"
Suddenly, she was falling at an awkward angle, a heavy weight pressing on her side. A loud crack sounded and then there was searing pain.
Then nothing.
minus three
For their ten-year anniversary, she and Derek were heading to the Bahamas for a long-deserved break. Work had been hectic with both of them gaining recognition in their own fields of specialty, but she was slowly burning out. She needed a break.
The Chief agreed. "Take two weeks," he'd said. "You might not think this, but we do have other surgeons in the hospital."
Derek left the arrangements up to her. "Just give me the flight number," he'd said. "I'll be there."
At the airport, Addison shifted impatiently and checked her watch for the third time. All around her, comers and goers milled about. Her husband was not among them.
She sighed when a familiar figure approached. "I was afraid this might happen."
Mark shrugged, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. "Sorry, Addie. Derek said there was an emergency."
"Of course there was." She handed him a ticket--'Mark Sloan' clearly printed across the top--and started toward the departure gate. She tucked Derek's ticket back into her purse: an early souvenir. "We should check-in, the plane is boarding soon."
Mark trailed behind her, silently climbing up the steps of the plane and into the allocated seats. They didn't speak much on the flight over or on the drive to the hotel.
Addison broke the silence when they checked into their room. The blonde behind the reception desk brazenly flirted with Mark, and Addison scoffed loudly as they walked away. "For all she knows, you could be my husband. This is officially the worst anniversary ever."
He pressed the button of the elevator. "I thought the first anniversary was pretty bad, myself."
She grimaced at the thought. "Oh, yeah. I must have been repressing that memory. Why on earth did Derek think it would be a great idea to have you, of all people, to cook for me?"
"On the bright side, the night ended cozily. The three of us on the bathroom floor, fighting about who got the toilet..."
"What a let down."
"Why, Addison Montgomery," he said, grinning suggestively. "I didn't know you thought of me in that way."
"I meant the dinner! Mark, don't say things like that to me on my anniversary. You have absolutely no morals whatsoever." She muttered, "You and that blonde deserve each other."
He raised one eyebrow. "I wouldn't be calling anyone immoral if I were you. I'm not the one who stole custard cups from my patients."
Addison felt a flush warmed her cheeks. "They weren't going to eat it, they were in vegetative state! Besides," she sniffed, "that was ten years ago."
He unlocked their room and she dropped her bags inside.
"I'm going down to the beach," she said. "The sunset is in about a half-hour."
Mark pulled a pair of shorts from his bag. "I'll come along to keep you safe."
Addison rolled her eyes.
She rolled her eyes again when they were standing on the beach. Mark made a big show about building a fire. Addison was almost certain he didn't need to take his shirt off to do that.
"Great," she said. "I've got the sunset, I've got the romantic bonfire... and I've got the husband's best friend. What a wonderful story for the grandkids."
Mark threw his hands up. "This isn't exactly how I imagined my week going either! I had a date with two hot brunettes lined up--two of them. Possibly twins. And then Derek had to go and call in his favor."
She blinked. "Well. I'm sorry I'm such a burden."
He softened when he saw the beginning of tears. "Hey. You're not a burden. To anyone. Derek's just being an idiot. Any guy would be lucky to have you blow your nose on their shirt."
"Really?" She sniffled. "You're just saying that so I won't cry and blow my nose on your shirt. Or hit you."
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I've been hit harder by five-year-olds."
For good measure, Addison punched his arm as hard as she could.
"Ow!" He laughed, rubbing the spot. "Okay, ten-year-olds, then."
"Don't make me hit you again," she said, raising her cramping fist.
"Alright, alright. Enough. Come here," he slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Hey, your shampoo smells nice."
"Thanks, I bought it yesterday."
"This isn't so bad, right? I mean, I'm no Derek, but I think we've got the bickering old married couple part down."
She paused. "Derek and I don't do that."
"Oh."
She sighed and leaned back into his arms, one hand absently raking through the sand. The sun was low on the water, and they watched as it disappeared beneath the horizon.
"This is nice," he whispered. The only light left from the flickering flames.
Addison smiled for the first time since the airport. "Yes. Thanks for coming."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Happy anniversary."
"It is our anniversary too, you know. Ten years ago---"
"I don't want to talk about that."
twenty-three
The day she'd had the abortion, Mark had come home to find Addison curled up on her side. He had taken one look at her and known from the stringiness of her hair and the paleness of her face. He'd left her there while he went into the next room and put his fist through the wall.
This was so much worse.
Addison lay on the hospital bed in the Intensive Care Unit, thick bandages wrapped around her head. A machine monitored her heartbeat; another monitored her blood pressure. Tubes connected her lungs to a ventilator and her veins to an IV drip. Mark saw these things everyday, but never on her. Mark was a doctor every other day, but not today.
"Is she going to be okay?"
Derek stood beside him, holding Addison's medical chart low over his stomach. "The bullet grazed her left temple," he said haltingly, "and there was a skull fracture. We found an epidural hematoma."
"I know all that," Mark ground out. "Is she going to be okay?"
"The operation was successful. I removed the clot. But that's not what you're asking either, is it?"
"You know it's not."
"And you know I can't answer." Derek sighed and ran a hair through his hair. It was flatter than usual from hours under a scrub cap. "Addison is in a coma. I can't tell you why or when she is going to wake up. All I can tell you is that, medically, she has an excellent chance for a complete recovery."
"Okay," Mark said. He nodded slowly twice, and then once again. "Okay."
"Hey," Derek said, "You pushed her out of the way and saved her life. You did good."
"Not good enough. I could have--" Mark stopped and pressed the heel of his palms against his eyelids. They were bloodshot from lack of sleep and too many tears. "We made this bet. Addison said that if I could go 60 days without having sex, she'd give us a shot. We were going to try, and I knew it was going to work this time because there was no way I was ever going to mess it up."
Derek hesitated for a moment, and then made himself comfortable in the second chair. "Medically, she has a excellent chance. Not medically? Addison is a fighter. She's the most stubborn person I know. She's going to be okay."
Mark nodded again. Maybe if he nodded enough, he could accept the words. "Do you think she can hear us?" He said finally.
"I bet she's laughing at us right now and making us sweat for having such little faith."
"Yeah. That sounds like Addie."
minus eleven
Superstition said that a bride and groom could not see each other on the day of the wedding.
Addison was not taking any chances.
She stood in the middle of her hotel room, the green goop of a cucumber mask on her face, and stared intently at the man lounging on her bed. She held a television remote in her left hand and occasionally pointed it at him as if it would make him speak faster, slower or pause.
Mark had his shoes kicked off and sat comfortably against the headboard, his phone held to one ear. "Derek says he doesn't understand why he can't talk to you directly. He can't see you over the phone."
"Tell Derek I'm not gambling away our future and our happiness."
Mark relayed the message and then paused for a reply. "Derek says you're being ridiculous."
"Tell him I'm not getting married tomorrow if I hear his voice before the ceremony."
"Derek says--Dude, I am not saying that."
Addison giggled when Mark's ears turned a dark shade of pink. "What did he say? What did he say?"
"If you make me tell you, I am going to turn the speaker phone on and then you can explain to your parents why the wedding has been cancelled," he threatened.
"Okay, fine." She pointed. "You are a terrible best man."
"I'm pretty sure these aren't traditional best man duties--what? Oh. Fine. Dude, I cannot believe you're still holding that against me." Mark rolled his eyes, and deadpanned, "It's only been a few hours but I miss you already."
"Aw," Addison said. She sat down on the bed and pushed at his legs to give her room. "I miss you too."
"I can't wait to see you walking down the aisle. I can't wait until you're my wife."
"I wish it was happening right now," she sighed.
Mark took in the sight of her fluffy pink robe and green face, and snickered. " Me too."
Addison sent him a sharp look. "Shush, you."
"What was that, Derek? Okay. I'll tell her."
"What? What did he say?"
"I hope we have a daughter who is just like you."
She smiled softly.
"I want her to have your red hair and your eyes and your laugh, and nothing of me. I want us to be a family that has barbeques in the backyard and vacations in the Bahamas. I don't think it's possible for me to ever stop loving you."
Addison's eyes welled up, and she fanned her hands at her face as if it would ward off the tears. She dashed to the bathroom before she started to cry her mask away.
Mark watched her go and then let out a long sigh. He hung up the phone. There was no need to tell Derek goodbye; during the last few 'messages', there had been nothing on the other side but a dial tone.
twenty-five
Mark stood outside Addison's hospital room, his head leaning against the cool glass of the window. Two days had passed since the operation and Addison had not woken up.
Derek had assured him that all the signs and tests had been encouraging. Sometimes, people just took longer to come back. In their old Neuroscience professor's voice, they both heard the unspoken words, and sometimes people don't come back at all.
"You're waiting for her to wake up."
In the reflection of the glass, Mark could see an elderly woman standing behind him. "Excuse me?"
"Your girlfriend. You're waiting for her, aren't you?"
He focused on Addison again. Even her normally vibrant, red hair looked pale in this light. "Yes."
"My mother was in a coma for seven years before she came to."
Mark laughed humorlessly. "That's not exactly encouraging."
"But she woke up. And do you know what she said?"
"What's that?"
"She said, 'I would have come back sooner if you'd given me grandchildren.'" The woman shook her head and cackled. "Crazy old coot."
Mark frowned, "I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me."
"Young man, sometimes it's not about sickness. Sometimes it's about the flowers, the sunshine, the songs."
"So, I should get her flowers?" he guessed. "Play music for her?"
"Maybe your girlfriend just needs to figure out that whatever she has when asleep, it's not as good as what she has awake."
minus fifteen
Addison Montgomery was fabulous at everything she did, save one: handling a motor vehicle. Still, she did not admit defeat. If legions of other college students could drive, why couldn't she? Sure, she had a small problem with parking, but who didn't forget to look in the rearview mirror from time to time?
"Hey," she heard someone yell, and then loud thumping on the back of her car. "Watch where you're going!"
She threw on the brakes, put her car into park and jumped out. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you! Are you hurt? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"
A guy her age was standing behind her car -- another two inches and he would have been hit. He had dark blonde hair and gray eyes. Addison had seen him leaving the room of a girl on her floor the day before, and the room of another girl the day before that.
"I'm fine--no thanks to you," he fumed. "You almost killed me!"
She flicked a lock of hair out of her eyes, all traces of panic and sympathy now gone. "I did not. Besides, maybe you should watch where you're going next time. Why are you walking behind moving cars, anyway? Didn't your mother ever tell you that's dangerous?"
His mouth opened and closed a few times. "I can't believe this," he muttered as he stormed away. "Crazy redheads should not be allowed behind the wheel."
Addison stomped off too, but, unfortunately, they were headed in the same direction. "Nice to meet you too! Ass."
He stopped mid-step. "What are you going on about? We already met. I'm the one who saved your life."
"You're crazy," she shook her head.
"At the hotel, remember? You got shot, and I pushed you out the way."
"Mark, you are really going insane."
His eyes lit up. "So, you do remember me."
"Names don't mean anything. Many people know your name. Lots of girls in my dorm know your name."
He stared at her, and then slowly smoothed a lock of hair away from her left temple. "You have a scar there." He touched the light puckering at her hairline. It was still tender. She flinched. "See? Proof."
Addison pushed his hands away, suddenly accusing. "Then clearly you didn't try hard enough to save me."
At her words, Mark grew quiet and subdued, and she wished she could take them back.
"I tried, Addie." His eyes were dark and sad. "Isn't that enough?"
She didn't answer.
If she had, she would have said: I want more.
twenty-six
"I brought you passion roses -- your favorite," Mark said to her sleeping form. "The florist in the hospital didn't have them, but I managed to get them in. Had to promise Stevens a good surgery, but it was worth it, right?"
He smiled and paused in wait. She didn't say anything or twitch a finger in response.
"I know it's hard to resist me, but you don't have to go into a coma for the rest of the 60 days." He grinned teasingly. "I won't hold it against you."
Another minute passed before Mark sat down. Someone had replaced the uncomfortable plastic chair with the plush leather seat from his office, but he didn't know who. Another day he would have appreciated the gesture, but today he didn't even notice.
"I'm sorry about New York. I don't think I've ever told you that. I'm not sorry that we were together, but I'm sorry that I pushed you before you were ready. Sometimes I think that if I had waited, you and Derek would have split on good terms, and this wouldn't be so hard.
"I think I must have been in love with you since that day in Anatomy. You were the bossiest lab partner I'd ever had." He smiled to himself. "You had this no-nonsense way about you -- very sexy, even though I don't think you knew it then.
"I just--" Mark swallowed hard. "Come back, Addison? I don't like being here without you."
minus seventeen
It was Spring Break and, like all the cool kids, Addison and Savvy drove down to Florida for the week. They made a pit stop at a gas station and split up the tasks: Addison would fill the tank with gas, and Savvy would get the snacks. Addison did not trust Savvy with flammables.
She had the cap back on the tank when a couple emerged from the next car and scared the crap out of her. They didn't look like criminals or in any way mentally deranged. The woman just looked far too similar to herself for comfort, only with the differences that fifteen years might bring. The man had dark blonde hair and a strong smirk. Addison instantly had a reaction of some sort to the smirk.
"I told you to ask for directions!" The Redhead said, smacking the man on the arm.
"You said you could follow directions! And jeez, a fifteen-year-old, okay?" He winced, rubbing his arm.
"At least I know when to admit a mistake. You are hopeless, Mark." The Redhead turned to Addison and smiled. "Excuse me. Can you tell us which way to Miami Beach? We're kind of lost because of Doofus, here."
Mark started to splutter, but both women ignored him.
"Well, actually" Addison said, "I'm not from around here. I could make a wild guess, but I wouldn't want to get you even more lost."
Redhead shrugged. "Eh, that's okay. We just came from the Bahamas, so it's not like we haven't seen a beach in years."
"The Bahamas? That sounds nice."
"Yep," Mark added. "The big ten year anniversary."
"Oh, wow, congratulations."
Mark and the Redhead looked at each other and then laughed uproariously. Addison frowned. God, their laughs were loud.
"Us? No, we're not married."
"Well, I'm married, but not to him."
Mark wiped a tear from the corner of his eyes. "Ah, I haven't heard anything that funny in years. Alright, I think it's time we go home."
"Home?" Addison echoed.
Mark smiled at her, and then tapped her nose. "Yes. That's where you should be going, missy."
The Redhead nodded. "He misses you. Don't take too long, okay? It's just going to make it harder."
When Savvy returned, the mysterious couple was long gone. "What are you looking at?" Savvy asked, peering over Addison's shoulder. The highway looked deserted.
Addison shook her head. "Nothing. Hey, Sav? Maybe you should drive."
thirty
Another four days passed and Addison was transferred out of ICU. She could breathe on her own, but was still in a coma.
Mark had lunch with her daily.
"Okay, let's see what we have here," he said, examining the contents of the hospital lunch. "Hmm. Eggs? Could be mashed potatoes. The jell-o, as always, looks good. And here's the custard. I know that's your favorite."
"Talking to yourself?" Derek said as he entered the room. He came around to Addison's other side and quickly reviewed the chart.
"Talking to Addie. I think it helps."
"She's definitely improving. And the stitches look like they are healing nicely."
"You should have let me do that. It wouldn't have left a scar."
"I don't think that's going to make a difference to Addison."
"I don't know--, she can be pretty vain. Look at how much beauty sleep she's taking."
Derek frowned. "I don't think--"
Mark quickly cut him off. "I know." He sighed. "I know. It's just easier. For me. To tell myself that she's just sleeping. And she'll be waking up any second. Because she is, right?"
"Right," Derek said after a beat. "Maybe... you should go see someone in Psych. Just to talk."
"I've been doing a lot of talking with Addison lately."
At that, Derek looked at him--really looked at him. Here was the man with dark blonde hair and dark circles under his eyes; the man he used to call a best friend; and the man who was probably the soul mate of the woman Derek used to love. "You can talk to me, too, you know," he said.
"I'm fine. But I could use a little company. Addie's not really holding up her end of the conversation these days."
Mark smiled again, but there was no hiding the bleakness in his eyes.
Derek sat down.
minus twenty-two
At seventeen, Addison had her priorities straight. While other girls were practicing their cheerleading routine for the homecoming game, Addison sat underneath a tree in the courtyard, three chemistry textbooks spread out around her. Three was just enough to send the message: I am busy, do not interrupt me.
Mark Sloan was the smart jock, and he may have been good with math and science and almost every other subject that ever existed, but he was terrible with messages.
"Can I help you?" Addison said politely when he plopped down beside her.
He smiled lazily. "Just wondering why you're doing homework when the world is clearly telling you to have some fun."
"Contrary to what you might have been told, you are not the world."
"Well, I wasn't actually talking about me, but okay. I say you should be letting loose and having fun. Also, the clouds say you should be having fun."
"The clouds?" Addison repeated doubtfully.
Mark nodded. "Yes. The signs are clear. See?" He pointed to a particularly fluffy one in the distance. "Books are burning in that one. Crackle, crackle."
"Right."
"And that one there?" This time he pointed to one right above them, just visible through the tree leaves. She had to lean closer to him in order to see. "A drink. Looks like vodka, but I guess it could be anything in a shot glass."
"Hmm." Addison was not impressed. "Well, as enlightening as this has been, I have things to do--"
"You realize this isn't real, right? The anniversary, the night before the wedding, the way we met. I mean, you did try to run me over once. But that's not how it all happened."
She started to deny it, but then instead said, "None of that has happened yet."
"It has. You know this."
"It hasn't happened to us -- not to this Addison Montgomery, and not to this Mark Sloan."
"No. But we're not real either." He gave her a small smile. "And, anyway, it's not going the way you planned, is it? You're not getting all the things you want, and you can't keep me at arm's length. Even in your dreams, I still get closer than you think I should."
She stared at him, and then lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry about the baby."
"Me too."
"I just thought... if I went back far enough, I could change things."
He put one finger under her chin and tipped it gently so that she would meet his gaze. "Nothing really changes here. Wake up, Addie. You can only change it if you go back."
"I know," she admitted. "It's just so much harder there."
"I'll help you." He took her hand. "We'll do it together."
"Wait, I still need to know: the night before my wedding... the things you said..."
Mark shook his head. "Derek didn't really say those things. Neither did I."
"Oh."
"I wasn't ready then, but I will be. I'm ready now."
"Now?"
"Yes. See that cloud over there? That's now."
She squinted. The cloud was white and fluffy and, like the rest, did not look like anything but a cloud.
Suddenly, everything went black.
Somewhere in the background, she could hear Mark laughing, "I pushed you hard enough this time."
thirty-two
When Addison opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was a firm grip on her hand. The second thing was the tray full of custard cups.
Mark was sleeping in the chair beside her bed. She shifted her fingers, and he woke. He gave her a broad smile.
"Addison," he breathed. "I saved you the custard."
"Hi," she said, and it was only after the third attempt that the word came out. Mark helped her sit up and poured some water for her parched throat.
Her eyes wandered over to the passion roses.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "They're a bit wilted now."
"That's okay."
She stared at him. Mark Sloan looked different. Maybe he was a new man. Maybe waking from a coma had given her new eyes.
He couldn't stop smiling or touching her hand and her cheek. "I'm so glad you're okay. Derek thought I was going crazy, and I think I was as well, but... I needed to talk to you. It was the only way I could feel close to you. I was so afraid, and there were all these things I needed you to know."
Words from her dream niggled at the back of her mind, and she struggled to remember them all. "Mark, when I was... out of it, you said you wanted to have a daughter with me. You said you wanted her to look like me. Everything of me and nothing of you."
"I--Yes. You heard me."
"I think I heard everything." She lifted her hand to his cheek. He had six days worth of stubble and the softest skin. "I want her to have your smile."
He smiled warmly. There was so much happiness, relief and love mixed in; Addison wondered how she could have thought the dreams were better than this.
"Okay."
"Mark?"
"Yes?"
"When I get out of here, let's go to the Bahamas. I've never been before, and I want to go with you."
"Okay."
Addison yawned. Her eyes felt droopy again, but she didn't worry. She wasn't leaving this behind again.
"Mark?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for saving me."
FIN
Characters:Mark/Addison
Summary: As surgeons, we all see ourselves as "fixers". But sometimes, we disagree on how (and if) things can be fixed.
Notes: Written for the Altered Mental State Ficathon at hawkfromhandsaw, but submitted ridiculously late. (I don't know why I always think I can be reformed and, you know, punctual.) Many thanks to grand_delusions, roadtoforever and lareina95 for the beta.
Feedback: All comments and constructive criticism are much, much appreciated. If you like menial labor, my email is prosperina@gmx.net.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Shonda Rhimes & co.
***
“Men will always be mad,
and those who think they can cure them are the maddest of all.”-- Voltaire
twenty-two
Living in a hotel had certain hazards: unwanted dinner guests was just one of them.
Addison Montgomery had just finished the last of her steak when Mark Sloan sauntered into the hotel restaurant. As usual, he wore his unshaven jaw and blue jeans ensemble. She pointedly ignored the way his t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and chest.
"Mark," she said, placing her cutlery in the middle of her plate.
He slipped into the seat across from her. "Addie."
Day twenty-one of the pact had come and gone with too little fanfare, Addison thought. He'd blindsided her when she should have seen him coming.
She took a small sip of her red wine and swirled the liquid around in her glass. Other hospital employees may be able to take their tequila and hard liquor on a daily basis, but Addison could not. She was loath to admit, but she was... advancing in age. With that came thoughts about babies, thoughts about backyard barbequing, and thoughts about family vacations in the Bahamas. If Addison was honest with herself, she wanted it all.
This was a picture she could not see Mark Sloan in--not then, not now, not ever.
All he had ever been able to promise her was a good time.
But at least the promises he made always came true.
"I thought you were avoiding me," she said. "Are my feminine wiles getting too difficult for you to resist?"
"On the contrary," he drawled. "I just thought I'd give you a break. We both know that out of the two of us, I can hold out longer."
Addison scoffed. "I'll believe that when you get to 60 days."
"I'll have you begging," he promised.
"I'm sure I will be--for you and your ego to move out of the way so I can breathe!"
Mark grinned. "Is that the best you can do? I'm pretty sure you used that line back in med school."
"Well, you and your ego left a big impression on me."
"I'm sure that's not the only part of me that left a... big impression."
She stared at him incredulously and then let out a laugh. "I almost can't believe you just said that. It's official, I'm back in high school."
"I think I would've liked that. Knowing you in high school."
"I had braces and no breasts in high school. You wouldn't have talked to me."
He gave her an appraising look as she stood up. "Oh, I don't know about that," he said softly. "I think I definitely would have talked to you."
She shook her head. "You're shameless. Come on, I'll let you walk me to my room."
Addison missed this part of their relationship the most: the talking and the (somewhat) innocent teasing. Over time it'd been buried by the booty calling, the towel wearing and the rolling in damp sheets. The sex was fabulous and Mark's relentless black t-shirt would not let her forget it... but she still missed the words.
As it happened, living in hotels had other hazards: sex and infidelities, just to name a few.
A man with wild eyes stood at the reception. When he spoke, his voice shook with rage. "I know my wife is up there, damn it. The whore is up there with the asshole she's seeing. Give me the room number, now, or I'll look for them myself."
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave..."
The next part happened in a blur. A gun was pulled. Someone screamed. Addison could feel Mark tugging her towards the safety of the elevators, but she didn't follow.
Instead, she found herself moving towards the man with the wild eyes; she felt his fear, his anguish and his desperate need to save his marriage. She felt like she understood him.
The man did not understand her.
"Addison, no!"
Suddenly, she was falling at an awkward angle, a heavy weight pressing on her side. A loud crack sounded and then there was searing pain.
Then nothing.
minus three
For their ten-year anniversary, she and Derek were heading to the Bahamas for a long-deserved break. Work had been hectic with both of them gaining recognition in their own fields of specialty, but she was slowly burning out. She needed a break.
The Chief agreed. "Take two weeks," he'd said. "You might not think this, but we do have other surgeons in the hospital."
Derek left the arrangements up to her. "Just give me the flight number," he'd said. "I'll be there."
At the airport, Addison shifted impatiently and checked her watch for the third time. All around her, comers and goers milled about. Her husband was not among them.
She sighed when a familiar figure approached. "I was afraid this might happen."
Mark shrugged, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. "Sorry, Addie. Derek said there was an emergency."
"Of course there was." She handed him a ticket--'Mark Sloan' clearly printed across the top--and started toward the departure gate. She tucked Derek's ticket back into her purse: an early souvenir. "We should check-in, the plane is boarding soon."
Mark trailed behind her, silently climbing up the steps of the plane and into the allocated seats. They didn't speak much on the flight over or on the drive to the hotel.
Addison broke the silence when they checked into their room. The blonde behind the reception desk brazenly flirted with Mark, and Addison scoffed loudly as they walked away. "For all she knows, you could be my husband. This is officially the worst anniversary ever."
He pressed the button of the elevator. "I thought the first anniversary was pretty bad, myself."
She grimaced at the thought. "Oh, yeah. I must have been repressing that memory. Why on earth did Derek think it would be a great idea to have you, of all people, to cook for me?"
"On the bright side, the night ended cozily. The three of us on the bathroom floor, fighting about who got the toilet..."
"What a let down."
"Why, Addison Montgomery," he said, grinning suggestively. "I didn't know you thought of me in that way."
"I meant the dinner! Mark, don't say things like that to me on my anniversary. You have absolutely no morals whatsoever." She muttered, "You and that blonde deserve each other."
He raised one eyebrow. "I wouldn't be calling anyone immoral if I were you. I'm not the one who stole custard cups from my patients."
Addison felt a flush warmed her cheeks. "They weren't going to eat it, they were in vegetative state! Besides," she sniffed, "that was ten years ago."
He unlocked their room and she dropped her bags inside.
"I'm going down to the beach," she said. "The sunset is in about a half-hour."
Mark pulled a pair of shorts from his bag. "I'll come along to keep you safe."
Addison rolled her eyes.
She rolled her eyes again when they were standing on the beach. Mark made a big show about building a fire. Addison was almost certain he didn't need to take his shirt off to do that.
"Great," she said. "I've got the sunset, I've got the romantic bonfire... and I've got the husband's best friend. What a wonderful story for the grandkids."
Mark threw his hands up. "This isn't exactly how I imagined my week going either! I had a date with two hot brunettes lined up--two of them. Possibly twins. And then Derek had to go and call in his favor."
She blinked. "Well. I'm sorry I'm such a burden."
He softened when he saw the beginning of tears. "Hey. You're not a burden. To anyone. Derek's just being an idiot. Any guy would be lucky to have you blow your nose on their shirt."
"Really?" She sniffled. "You're just saying that so I won't cry and blow my nose on your shirt. Or hit you."
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I've been hit harder by five-year-olds."
For good measure, Addison punched his arm as hard as she could.
"Ow!" He laughed, rubbing the spot. "Okay, ten-year-olds, then."
"Don't make me hit you again," she said, raising her cramping fist.
"Alright, alright. Enough. Come here," he slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Hey, your shampoo smells nice."
"Thanks, I bought it yesterday."
"This isn't so bad, right? I mean, I'm no Derek, but I think we've got the bickering old married couple part down."
She paused. "Derek and I don't do that."
"Oh."
She sighed and leaned back into his arms, one hand absently raking through the sand. The sun was low on the water, and they watched as it disappeared beneath the horizon.
"This is nice," he whispered. The only light left from the flickering flames.
Addison smiled for the first time since the airport. "Yes. Thanks for coming."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Happy anniversary."
"It is our anniversary too, you know. Ten years ago---"
"I don't want to talk about that."
twenty-three
The day she'd had the abortion, Mark had come home to find Addison curled up on her side. He had taken one look at her and known from the stringiness of her hair and the paleness of her face. He'd left her there while he went into the next room and put his fist through the wall.
This was so much worse.
Addison lay on the hospital bed in the Intensive Care Unit, thick bandages wrapped around her head. A machine monitored her heartbeat; another monitored her blood pressure. Tubes connected her lungs to a ventilator and her veins to an IV drip. Mark saw these things everyday, but never on her. Mark was a doctor every other day, but not today.
"Is she going to be okay?"
Derek stood beside him, holding Addison's medical chart low over his stomach. "The bullet grazed her left temple," he said haltingly, "and there was a skull fracture. We found an epidural hematoma."
"I know all that," Mark ground out. "Is she going to be okay?"
"The operation was successful. I removed the clot. But that's not what you're asking either, is it?"
"You know it's not."
"And you know I can't answer." Derek sighed and ran a hair through his hair. It was flatter than usual from hours under a scrub cap. "Addison is in a coma. I can't tell you why or when she is going to wake up. All I can tell you is that, medically, she has an excellent chance for a complete recovery."
"Okay," Mark said. He nodded slowly twice, and then once again. "Okay."
"Hey," Derek said, "You pushed her out of the way and saved her life. You did good."
"Not good enough. I could have--" Mark stopped and pressed the heel of his palms against his eyelids. They were bloodshot from lack of sleep and too many tears. "We made this bet. Addison said that if I could go 60 days without having sex, she'd give us a shot. We were going to try, and I knew it was going to work this time because there was no way I was ever going to mess it up."
Derek hesitated for a moment, and then made himself comfortable in the second chair. "Medically, she has a excellent chance. Not medically? Addison is a fighter. She's the most stubborn person I know. She's going to be okay."
Mark nodded again. Maybe if he nodded enough, he could accept the words. "Do you think she can hear us?" He said finally.
"I bet she's laughing at us right now and making us sweat for having such little faith."
"Yeah. That sounds like Addie."
minus eleven
Superstition said that a bride and groom could not see each other on the day of the wedding.
Addison was not taking any chances.
She stood in the middle of her hotel room, the green goop of a cucumber mask on her face, and stared intently at the man lounging on her bed. She held a television remote in her left hand and occasionally pointed it at him as if it would make him speak faster, slower or pause.
Mark had his shoes kicked off and sat comfortably against the headboard, his phone held to one ear. "Derek says he doesn't understand why he can't talk to you directly. He can't see you over the phone."
"Tell Derek I'm not gambling away our future and our happiness."
Mark relayed the message and then paused for a reply. "Derek says you're being ridiculous."
"Tell him I'm not getting married tomorrow if I hear his voice before the ceremony."
"Derek says--Dude, I am not saying that."
Addison giggled when Mark's ears turned a dark shade of pink. "What did he say? What did he say?"
"If you make me tell you, I am going to turn the speaker phone on and then you can explain to your parents why the wedding has been cancelled," he threatened.
"Okay, fine." She pointed. "You are a terrible best man."
"I'm pretty sure these aren't traditional best man duties--what? Oh. Fine. Dude, I cannot believe you're still holding that against me." Mark rolled his eyes, and deadpanned, "It's only been a few hours but I miss you already."
"Aw," Addison said. She sat down on the bed and pushed at his legs to give her room. "I miss you too."
"I can't wait to see you walking down the aisle. I can't wait until you're my wife."
"I wish it was happening right now," she sighed.
Mark took in the sight of her fluffy pink robe and green face, and snickered. " Me too."
Addison sent him a sharp look. "Shush, you."
"What was that, Derek? Okay. I'll tell her."
"What? What did he say?"
"I hope we have a daughter who is just like you."
She smiled softly.
"I want her to have your red hair and your eyes and your laugh, and nothing of me. I want us to be a family that has barbeques in the backyard and vacations in the Bahamas. I don't think it's possible for me to ever stop loving you."
Addison's eyes welled up, and she fanned her hands at her face as if it would ward off the tears. She dashed to the bathroom before she started to cry her mask away.
Mark watched her go and then let out a long sigh. He hung up the phone. There was no need to tell Derek goodbye; during the last few 'messages', there had been nothing on the other side but a dial tone.
twenty-five
Mark stood outside Addison's hospital room, his head leaning against the cool glass of the window. Two days had passed since the operation and Addison had not woken up.
Derek had assured him that all the signs and tests had been encouraging. Sometimes, people just took longer to come back. In their old Neuroscience professor's voice, they both heard the unspoken words, and sometimes people don't come back at all.
"You're waiting for her to wake up."
In the reflection of the glass, Mark could see an elderly woman standing behind him. "Excuse me?"
"Your girlfriend. You're waiting for her, aren't you?"
He focused on Addison again. Even her normally vibrant, red hair looked pale in this light. "Yes."
"My mother was in a coma for seven years before she came to."
Mark laughed humorlessly. "That's not exactly encouraging."
"But she woke up. And do you know what she said?"
"What's that?"
"She said, 'I would have come back sooner if you'd given me grandchildren.'" The woman shook her head and cackled. "Crazy old coot."
Mark frowned, "I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me."
"Young man, sometimes it's not about sickness. Sometimes it's about the flowers, the sunshine, the songs."
"So, I should get her flowers?" he guessed. "Play music for her?"
"Maybe your girlfriend just needs to figure out that whatever she has when asleep, it's not as good as what she has awake."
minus fifteen
Addison Montgomery was fabulous at everything she did, save one: handling a motor vehicle. Still, she did not admit defeat. If legions of other college students could drive, why couldn't she? Sure, she had a small problem with parking, but who didn't forget to look in the rearview mirror from time to time?
"Hey," she heard someone yell, and then loud thumping on the back of her car. "Watch where you're going!"
She threw on the brakes, put her car into park and jumped out. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you! Are you hurt? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"
A guy her age was standing behind her car -- another two inches and he would have been hit. He had dark blonde hair and gray eyes. Addison had seen him leaving the room of a girl on her floor the day before, and the room of another girl the day before that.
"I'm fine--no thanks to you," he fumed. "You almost killed me!"
She flicked a lock of hair out of her eyes, all traces of panic and sympathy now gone. "I did not. Besides, maybe you should watch where you're going next time. Why are you walking behind moving cars, anyway? Didn't your mother ever tell you that's dangerous?"
His mouth opened and closed a few times. "I can't believe this," he muttered as he stormed away. "Crazy redheads should not be allowed behind the wheel."
Addison stomped off too, but, unfortunately, they were headed in the same direction. "Nice to meet you too! Ass."
He stopped mid-step. "What are you going on about? We already met. I'm the one who saved your life."
"You're crazy," she shook her head.
"At the hotel, remember? You got shot, and I pushed you out the way."
"Mark, you are really going insane."
His eyes lit up. "So, you do remember me."
"Names don't mean anything. Many people know your name. Lots of girls in my dorm know your name."
He stared at her, and then slowly smoothed a lock of hair away from her left temple. "You have a scar there." He touched the light puckering at her hairline. It was still tender. She flinched. "See? Proof."
Addison pushed his hands away, suddenly accusing. "Then clearly you didn't try hard enough to save me."
At her words, Mark grew quiet and subdued, and she wished she could take them back.
"I tried, Addie." His eyes were dark and sad. "Isn't that enough?"
She didn't answer.
If she had, she would have said: I want more.
twenty-six
"I brought you passion roses -- your favorite," Mark said to her sleeping form. "The florist in the hospital didn't have them, but I managed to get them in. Had to promise Stevens a good surgery, but it was worth it, right?"
He smiled and paused in wait. She didn't say anything or twitch a finger in response.
"I know it's hard to resist me, but you don't have to go into a coma for the rest of the 60 days." He grinned teasingly. "I won't hold it against you."
Another minute passed before Mark sat down. Someone had replaced the uncomfortable plastic chair with the plush leather seat from his office, but he didn't know who. Another day he would have appreciated the gesture, but today he didn't even notice.
"I'm sorry about New York. I don't think I've ever told you that. I'm not sorry that we were together, but I'm sorry that I pushed you before you were ready. Sometimes I think that if I had waited, you and Derek would have split on good terms, and this wouldn't be so hard.
"I think I must have been in love with you since that day in Anatomy. You were the bossiest lab partner I'd ever had." He smiled to himself. "You had this no-nonsense way about you -- very sexy, even though I don't think you knew it then.
"I just--" Mark swallowed hard. "Come back, Addison? I don't like being here without you."
minus seventeen
It was Spring Break and, like all the cool kids, Addison and Savvy drove down to Florida for the week. They made a pit stop at a gas station and split up the tasks: Addison would fill the tank with gas, and Savvy would get the snacks. Addison did not trust Savvy with flammables.
She had the cap back on the tank when a couple emerged from the next car and scared the crap out of her. They didn't look like criminals or in any way mentally deranged. The woman just looked far too similar to herself for comfort, only with the differences that fifteen years might bring. The man had dark blonde hair and a strong smirk. Addison instantly had a reaction of some sort to the smirk.
"I told you to ask for directions!" The Redhead said, smacking the man on the arm.
"You said you could follow directions! And jeez, a fifteen-year-old, okay?" He winced, rubbing his arm.
"At least I know when to admit a mistake. You are hopeless, Mark." The Redhead turned to Addison and smiled. "Excuse me. Can you tell us which way to Miami Beach? We're kind of lost because of Doofus, here."
Mark started to splutter, but both women ignored him.
"Well, actually" Addison said, "I'm not from around here. I could make a wild guess, but I wouldn't want to get you even more lost."
Redhead shrugged. "Eh, that's okay. We just came from the Bahamas, so it's not like we haven't seen a beach in years."
"The Bahamas? That sounds nice."
"Yep," Mark added. "The big ten year anniversary."
"Oh, wow, congratulations."
Mark and the Redhead looked at each other and then laughed uproariously. Addison frowned. God, their laughs were loud.
"Us? No, we're not married."
"Well, I'm married, but not to him."
Mark wiped a tear from the corner of his eyes. "Ah, I haven't heard anything that funny in years. Alright, I think it's time we go home."
"Home?" Addison echoed.
Mark smiled at her, and then tapped her nose. "Yes. That's where you should be going, missy."
The Redhead nodded. "He misses you. Don't take too long, okay? It's just going to make it harder."
When Savvy returned, the mysterious couple was long gone. "What are you looking at?" Savvy asked, peering over Addison's shoulder. The highway looked deserted.
Addison shook her head. "Nothing. Hey, Sav? Maybe you should drive."
thirty
Another four days passed and Addison was transferred out of ICU. She could breathe on her own, but was still in a coma.
Mark had lunch with her daily.
"Okay, let's see what we have here," he said, examining the contents of the hospital lunch. "Hmm. Eggs? Could be mashed potatoes. The jell-o, as always, looks good. And here's the custard. I know that's your favorite."
"Talking to yourself?" Derek said as he entered the room. He came around to Addison's other side and quickly reviewed the chart.
"Talking to Addie. I think it helps."
"She's definitely improving. And the stitches look like they are healing nicely."
"You should have let me do that. It wouldn't have left a scar."
"I don't think that's going to make a difference to Addison."
"I don't know--, she can be pretty vain. Look at how much beauty sleep she's taking."
Derek frowned. "I don't think--"
Mark quickly cut him off. "I know." He sighed. "I know. It's just easier. For me. To tell myself that she's just sleeping. And she'll be waking up any second. Because she is, right?"
"Right," Derek said after a beat. "Maybe... you should go see someone in Psych. Just to talk."
"I've been doing a lot of talking with Addison lately."
At that, Derek looked at him--really looked at him. Here was the man with dark blonde hair and dark circles under his eyes; the man he used to call a best friend; and the man who was probably the soul mate of the woman Derek used to love. "You can talk to me, too, you know," he said.
"I'm fine. But I could use a little company. Addie's not really holding up her end of the conversation these days."
Mark smiled again, but there was no hiding the bleakness in his eyes.
Derek sat down.
minus twenty-two
At seventeen, Addison had her priorities straight. While other girls were practicing their cheerleading routine for the homecoming game, Addison sat underneath a tree in the courtyard, three chemistry textbooks spread out around her. Three was just enough to send the message: I am busy, do not interrupt me.
Mark Sloan was the smart jock, and he may have been good with math and science and almost every other subject that ever existed, but he was terrible with messages.
"Can I help you?" Addison said politely when he plopped down beside her.
He smiled lazily. "Just wondering why you're doing homework when the world is clearly telling you to have some fun."
"Contrary to what you might have been told, you are not the world."
"Well, I wasn't actually talking about me, but okay. I say you should be letting loose and having fun. Also, the clouds say you should be having fun."
"The clouds?" Addison repeated doubtfully.
Mark nodded. "Yes. The signs are clear. See?" He pointed to a particularly fluffy one in the distance. "Books are burning in that one. Crackle, crackle."
"Right."
"And that one there?" This time he pointed to one right above them, just visible through the tree leaves. She had to lean closer to him in order to see. "A drink. Looks like vodka, but I guess it could be anything in a shot glass."
"Hmm." Addison was not impressed. "Well, as enlightening as this has been, I have things to do--"
"You realize this isn't real, right? The anniversary, the night before the wedding, the way we met. I mean, you did try to run me over once. But that's not how it all happened."
She started to deny it, but then instead said, "None of that has happened yet."
"It has. You know this."
"It hasn't happened to us -- not to this Addison Montgomery, and not to this Mark Sloan."
"No. But we're not real either." He gave her a small smile. "And, anyway, it's not going the way you planned, is it? You're not getting all the things you want, and you can't keep me at arm's length. Even in your dreams, I still get closer than you think I should."
She stared at him, and then lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry about the baby."
"Me too."
"I just thought... if I went back far enough, I could change things."
He put one finger under her chin and tipped it gently so that she would meet his gaze. "Nothing really changes here. Wake up, Addie. You can only change it if you go back."
"I know," she admitted. "It's just so much harder there."
"I'll help you." He took her hand. "We'll do it together."
"Wait, I still need to know: the night before my wedding... the things you said..."
Mark shook his head. "Derek didn't really say those things. Neither did I."
"Oh."
"I wasn't ready then, but I will be. I'm ready now."
"Now?"
"Yes. See that cloud over there? That's now."
She squinted. The cloud was white and fluffy and, like the rest, did not look like anything but a cloud.
Suddenly, everything went black.
Somewhere in the background, she could hear Mark laughing, "I pushed you hard enough this time."
thirty-two
When Addison opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was a firm grip on her hand. The second thing was the tray full of custard cups.
Mark was sleeping in the chair beside her bed. She shifted her fingers, and he woke. He gave her a broad smile.
"Addison," he breathed. "I saved you the custard."
"Hi," she said, and it was only after the third attempt that the word came out. Mark helped her sit up and poured some water for her parched throat.
Her eyes wandered over to the passion roses.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "They're a bit wilted now."
"That's okay."
She stared at him. Mark Sloan looked different. Maybe he was a new man. Maybe waking from a coma had given her new eyes.
He couldn't stop smiling or touching her hand and her cheek. "I'm so glad you're okay. Derek thought I was going crazy, and I think I was as well, but... I needed to talk to you. It was the only way I could feel close to you. I was so afraid, and there were all these things I needed you to know."
Words from her dream niggled at the back of her mind, and she struggled to remember them all. "Mark, when I was... out of it, you said you wanted to have a daughter with me. You said you wanted her to look like me. Everything of me and nothing of you."
"I--Yes. You heard me."
"I think I heard everything." She lifted her hand to his cheek. He had six days worth of stubble and the softest skin. "I want her to have your smile."
He smiled warmly. There was so much happiness, relief and love mixed in; Addison wondered how she could have thought the dreams were better than this.
"Okay."
"Mark?"
"Yes?"
"When I get out of here, let's go to the Bahamas. I've never been before, and I want to go with you."
"Okay."
Addison yawned. Her eyes felt droopy again, but she didn't worry. She wasn't leaving this behind again.
"Mark?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for saving me."
FIN