Chapter 3

During their internships, they'd once taken turns napping in an empty room. As crazy as it sounded, the hospital beds were slightly more comfortable than the bunks in the on-call rooms.

If he closed his eyes and ignored the steady beeping of the heart monitor, he could almost pretend he and Addison were interns again, her trying to catch a quick nap without their superior finding out while he kept watch despite his own exhaustion because he always did what she wanted. Later that night, they'd hit up a bar nearby and drink until they blacked out. He'd take home a random woman, although of course at night he'd dream of her, one of his best friends, someone Derek had once drunkenly confessed that he had feelings for. Mark, being the loyal brother he'd always tried to be, had backed off and kept his own feelings private.

It grew darker and darker outside as he sat practically motionless by her side, her hand clasped in both of his. Derek, Richard, Meredith-they all stopped in occasionally, offering (or on Derek's part, practically forcing) to take his position and not so gently telling him that he needed to sleep, shower or both.

He hadn't budged an inch, of course, instead choosing to remain in that uncomfortable chair. He studied her hand in an effort to avoid staring at the various tubes and things sticking out of her body. She practically never went a day without keeping her nails neat and perfectly shaped. If he focused his gaze solely on her hands, he could almost pretend they were simply at home.

Mark sat back in his chair; 24 hours. In 24 hours, the unthinkable could happen. 24 hours, or two twelve-hour increments. What was he doing 12 hours ago?

12 hours ago, he'd woken up to that rare Seattle sunshine filtering in through the curtains (he preferred no nonsense blinds, but she'd insisted on curtains). She was still sleeping, curled on her side, snoring softly. He'd tried to fall back asleep, knowing it was way too early, yet the combined excitement and trepidation from what he'd planned to do that weekend kept him from slumber. So he simply kept his eyes open and just watched her breathe.

He'd reached out to touch her belly, the familiar joy filling him as he felt their child moving inside, kicking out softly. Was this what would've happened if she'd stayed with him in New York? They rarely discussed the abortion anymore, both of them acknowledging it had been the right choice, but sometimes he couldn't help wondering what his life would've been like at this very moment if Seattle never happened.

"Addison! Let's go!"

Mark sighed with frustration as he looked up the stairs again, and then back down at his watch. Fifteen minutes. The gala started in fifteen minutes. It would take at least that long, if not longer, to wait for the Town Car to locate them in that damn New York traffic.

There was no response, of course. Mark rolled his eyes and headed instead for the den. If he stood there any longer (it had been half an hour at least, by his count), he'd rip off that stupid tie, ball it up and throw it out the window. Clearly, hospital galas weren't his thing, but as two of the most esteemed surgeons they were expected to at least make a short appearance.

His irritation quickly dissipated as he caught sight of the two young girls sitting in the den. A large chest sat on the carpet, doll clothes, shoes and various accessories Mark could not name spilled out around them. The older girl, a vivacious six year old, sang aloud and off-key to the CD full of kids' music (that Mark unfortunately knew the lyrics to) playing in the stereo. Her bright red hair was styled into a high ponytail. The younger girl, a petite three year old, clumsily attempted to pull a ball gown over her doll's head. Her strawberry blonde hair hung in messy curls around her face.

As the girls caught sight of Mark, their faces lit up.

"Daddy, look!" The six year old, Ella, beamed as she held up her doll. "I braided her hair! Isn't it pretty?"

"Very." Mark agreed as he came over and sat on the couch; he pulled out something from his butt, which was yet another doll accessory.

"Daddy braid too." Ella insisted as she thrust a doll at him.

"Oh, no, honey, remember, Daddy has to go out with Mommy. If Mommy will ever finish doing God knows what." He muttered that last part under his breath.

Ella, of course, didn't really understand. "Daddy braid with me." She repeated.

"Alright, alright." He said, taking the doll. He felt fifty shades of ridiculous as he began to braid the doll's hair with his carefully trained surgeon's hands. "You don't know his yet, Ella, but just like your mother you have ways of getting me to do things I don't want to do." He completed the braid and held the damn doll up. "What do you think?"

Ella scrunched up her nose. "Ugly."

Mark widened his eyes with fake shock. "Well I think it's beautiful. What do you think, Carson?"

The other little girl simply beamed up at him. "Pretty."

Mark laughed in response. "That's my girl."

Never in his life had he ever imagined this. He spent his fair share of time with women and had been called "Daddy" many times over, but never in the way it was used now. As Ella and Carson played together on the carpet, trading doll accessories and setting up what looked to be a tea party of some sort, he felt something he'd never thought he'd experience-contentment and love.

Heels echoed in the foyer and approached the room; Mark didn't need to turn around to know that his wife stood in the doorway.

"Mommy!" The girls immediately dropped their dolls and ran over to Addison, hugging her legs and chattering endlessly about their new favorite Disney movie with talking animals.

"Well, its about damn-" The words barely made their way out of his mouth before Mark found himself literally speechless...and not a bit unworthy.

Addison stood in the doorway, clad in a long and sort of tight blue dress that fell down to her ankles. Her hair was up in one of those deceivingly simple looking yet ridiculously complicated twists, showing off her long neck. She looked up from their daughters and fixed him with a stare and a raised eyebrow.

"You were saying?" She said, her voice teasing. She bent down to the girls' level and wrapped an arm around each of them.

"Um..." His tongue felt heavy in his mouth for a moment but he quickly recovered because hello Mark Sloan did not do flustered. "You're finally done."

"Look, Mommy!" Ella thrust her doll at Addison. "Daddy can braid!"

"Wow." Addison looked up at Mark and smirked. "I'm impressed."

Ella beamed up at her mother. "Want to come to our tea party?"

"Tea party." Carson echoed. She grinned adorably and pressed her palm against Addison's cheek. "Mommy come."

"I'm sorry," Addison said, straightening up. "Mommy would love to, but she and Daddy have to go out tonight. Remember, Erin's going to play with you tonight." She responded, referring to the babysitter.

"Yeah, you're going to have more fun than us for sure." Mark interjected, earning an eye roll from Addison. Mark and Addison kissed their daughters goodbye, and headed to the door to grab their coats.

Mark looked at his watch. "And look at that. We're now officially half an hour late to a stupid gala I never wanted to attend in the first place. Why are we going again?"

"Because," Addison said, reaching out to fix his tie. "we're-"

"I know," Mark interrupted. "We're fabulous and the life of the party. But," He started, taking a step towards her. "Are you very sure you still want to go? I'm sure nothing would happen if we miss this."

"Stop." Addison protested laughingly.

"Besides." Mark said, his voice growing low and husky. "Have I told you how incredibly sexy you look tonight?"

Addison wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his; he could feel her wide smile. "No, but you could certainly tell me again."

As her hands tangled themselves in his hair and his hands roamed over her back in that special way that always caused goosebumps to crop up all over her arms, Mark thought idly to himself that his life had ended up so perfect, it was almost like a dream.

It had been rocky at first after Derek caught them together in bed, but soon Addison had found out she was pregnant with Ella and it was like a fresh start for them. Carson had arrived not too long after. The last he heard, Derek had moved to some rainy city. Seattle? Or was it Portland? Amelia still remained in contact with both her brother and Addison, and apparently Derek was with some intern now. Neither Mark nor Addison gave a crap, honestly.

"Mark…" Addison whispered in his ear. "Mark."

He ignored her, continuing his motions.

But her voice continued. "Mark." It said, more insistently this time.

"Yes, Addison?"

"What? I didn't say anything." She responded.

A vision of a broken windshield, followed by Addison lying in a pool of blood suddenly flashed before his eyes. He abruptly broke away from her.

"Mmm, you're right. We should get going. We can pick this up after." She frowned, noticing his horrified expression. "What? What's wrong?"

As fast as the vision appeared, it was gone. "Nothing."

Addison turned around to shrug on her coat. As he reached for his, a second vision came to him. He saw Addison lying on a gurney, surrounded by Derek and a bunch of strange surgeons he'd never met. She flatlined, and a stocky blond man grabbed the paddles.

But that didn't make any sense. Addison, his wife and the mother of his beloved daughters, stood right in front of him, beautiful and whole. She turned around to smile at him as she opened the front door.

"Mark." The voice repeated. This time, it sounded nothing like Addison. "Mark. Wake up. You need to wake up."

Mark jerked awake so violently he nearly fell sideways out of the chair. "Wha…" One hand was dangling down, while the other still held Addison's and had grown numb in the process. Light poured into the room, a stark contrast from the darkness he last remembered.

Derek stood over him, his face a mask of exhaustion and sympathy. "I've been trying to wake you for the last five minutes."

Mark ran his free hand over his face blearily. "Shep? What's going on?" He asked as he noticed Derek's stricken expression. "Is she-"

"Still the same." Derek responded. He sat down in the chair next to Mark's, and for the first time Mark noticed the dark circles underneath his best friend's face. Derek looked as terrible, if not more, than Mark felt.

"Oh."

A beat of almost companionable silence filled the room.

Derek broke the silence with an ironic chuckle. "How did we get here, huh?" He reached out and touched Addison's arm. His curls were matted in a way Mark hadn't seen since, well, ever.

"Well, the last I recall you caught me in bed with your wife. Ex-wife."

Derek nodded. "Right. Hell of a thing to forget."

"Do you think she's in pain?" Mark murmured.

Derek frowned. "I mean technically she's asleep. Sedated…you know what I mean."

"But…?"

"She's probably taking a nice nap right now, laughing at the two of us." Derek joked. It was a defense mechanism Mark recognized well; Derek had a tendency to mask his feelings with humor or avoidance.

Mark decided to go along with it. "She always did enjoy a good laugh at our expense." He laughed for the first time in what felt like ages; his face muscles felt awkward after so many hours of frowning. "Remember the time we randomly cut class and hopped on the first flight out to Vegas?"

Derek paused as the memory slowly came back to him. "…and instead of gambling we went on that roller coaster. Which one was it?"

"The New York New York roller coaster." Mark answered. "Oh, man. Eleven straight shots of tequila didn't even make me vomit as hard as I did after."

Derek laughed openly, his features lighting up. "I remember Addie didn't even want to go. We practically forced her to, and I swear I lost feeling in my hand."

"Same here." Mark nodded as he remembered the way he and Derek had begged and pleaded with her. She'd argued that they could go by themselves and she could happily watch. In the end, though, she'd gone with them, holding tightly onto their hands. It was almost like the way he held her hand now and the way Derek lightly gripped her arm.

Mark wrenched his gaze from her, focusing his attention on Derek instead. "I think out of us she had the most fun."

"Oh, definitely." Derek agreed. "And I know she enjoyed watching the two of us puke for hours."

"She probably got that strong stomach from all that caviar growing up. She tried to get me to have some once. I've never regretted anything more." Mark shuddered.

Once the memories started, it was almost impossible to stop. "What about the time we pretended that we were all dating?"

"Yes!" Mark exclaimed. "What was his name…Todd something?" He'd been a borderline creepy guy from one of their classes had been super into Addison, even tracking her down to the bar she, Derek and Mark had been one night. To scare him off, Addison had quickly pretended she was dating both of them. Mark and Derek had quickly played along, and Todd had been history.

Derek was now laughing loudly. Thank God Richard had placed Addison in a private room, because otherwise surely other patients would've given them strange looks. "His face though! The best thing was that he actually bought it!"

Why wouldn't he, though? Mark thought. They'd been so close and so in sync with each other, like a real family.

The tense atmosphere in the room seemed to disappear as more memories resurfaced. But just as the knots started to disappear ever so slightly from the back of Mark's neck, and just as Derek started to sit back in his chair instead of keeping his spine upright and rigid, Meredith burst in. "There you are! Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt."

Derek stood up immediately, overturning the chair as he noticed the way Meredith was biting her lip, and the crease between her eyebrows. "What is it?"

"I…" She hesitated, noticing the way Mark had stood up as well. The tension had returned to his neck, and he almost didn't want her to continue. However brief the eye of the storm had been, it had felt damn good, almost like everything was normal.

Almost.

"The, um…" Meredith began. "The police are here. I tried to delay them as long as possible."

"What happened was pretty simple." Mark snapped. "Someone crashed their damn truck into my car."

"You know they still need a statement." Derek responded. He placed a hand on Mark's shoulder. "I could come with you."

Mark shook Derek's hand off. "No, I got this." With one last look at Addison's still body, he stomped out of the room, vowing to return as soon as he could.

"…and then a truck came out of nowhere." Mark said tonelessly. "I hit my head against the airbag, I guess, while Addison…"

"Yes?" The officer nodded, her brow furrowed with a mix of concentration and sympathy. It was worse this way; Mark almost wanted a cop who'd care less.

He bit down his tongue and tried to keep his voice steady. "She flew out the windshield."

"And did you see what happened to the other driver?"

"No. I think he got out of his truck?" Mark snapped. "You know, I was a little busy making sure Addison didn't…that she wasn't…"

"Okay." The cop responded. She snapped her notebook shut. "I think that about covers it. This sounds like this was the fault of the other driver-"

She was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder by another cop, who murmured something in her ear. Mark sighed, not hesitating to show his impatience. Every second he spent with these idiots meant another second away from Addison and his child.

The cop turned back to him, an odd expression on her face. "I, um, I just heard from my colleague," She gestured to the other cop, who'd walked away.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude." Mark said harshly. "But my," he stopped himself before he said wife. "…I need to get back upstairs."

The cop nodded. "Of course. It's just that, we don't think this was an accident."

Mark heard the words, but they weren't clicking in his mind. "Of course it was an accident. That's what I saw. You said so yourself."

Wasn't it?

"Not exactly. Apparently the other driver, the driver of the truck, just confessed. He did this on purpose. He intended to crash his truck into your car."

Mark just stared at her. Her words swam around in his mind; he understood each and every one individually but not what they meant when placed together. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sloan, but this was no accident."

Author's note: Thoughts?