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Expand, Contract

I can't even tell you what is real
wave, particle
longitudes, latitudes
apples and oranges
expansions, contractions
effects of causes

xx

It begins with a call from a number that he doesn't recognize with a 310 area code. Today was supposed to be the day he became a father, but instead, the mother of his child is a few thousand miles away, and he is alone in an on-call room in the middle of a self-imposed 48-hour shift so that he can work himself to death and then sleep for the day and a half that follows.

Addison left seven months ago. He had been giving her grief about still being married when she finally snapped and confronted him about his cheating. She knew about all of it, he knew there was no good excuse, and after a short but explosive fight with lots of yelling and some tears, she left, taking their unborn child with her. Three weeks later, he learned through the hospital grapevine that she had moved all the way across the country to Los Angeles. And that was it. She never called, she never answered his calls, and after a while, he managed to push aside most of the guilt in an attempt to forget her, their relationship, and their son or daughter.

"Mark Sloan," he answers. He expects to hear the voice of a stranger and a quick, 'Sorry, wrong number.'

But the person on the other end is not a stranger.

"Mark?"

"Archer?"

There is a long pause, giving Mark a few seconds to sit up and quickly consider why Addison's brother is calling him. It must be about the baby, he thinks. Addison must be having the baby, and she wants him there after all. Or maybe she already had the baby, and Archer has been given the responsibility of calling to inform him so that Addison doesn't have to. Regardless, his son or daughter is either here or almost here, and as much as Mark has tried to push that feeling of excitement away for months, it is now rushing back in full force.

Archer, though, does not sound very excited. In fact, he sounds gravely and uncharacteristically serious. "Mark, there's something I need to tell you, and you're going to want to be sitting down for this, okay?"

Confusion quickly replaces excitement, and his heart begins to beat faster. Something isn't right.

"What happened?"

"You sitting down yet?"

"Archer, what is it?" he asks harshly. Mark is irritated by the hesitance that is causing him grow more concerned by the millisecond, but as soon as he hears Archer breathing strangely and then getting choked up, the frustration disappears. At that moment, he realizes something is very wrong. He waits a little longer and then asks again, this time more gently. "Arch, what happened? What's going on?"

"Addison…"

He listens to Archer fighting back tears, and before Archer can manage to pull himself together enough to finish the sentence, Mark already knows what he is going to say next:

"She died, Mark. Addison died this morning."

Immediately, he feels as if he has been kicked in the stomach and had the floor pulled out from under him. His whole body goes cold and numb, his mouth goes dry, and his throat closes up. He can't breathe. There is shock and disbelief and so much overwhelming raw emotion running through him that he has to lie back down.

"Sh-she went into labor early yesterday morning, and after a while, it just stopped progressing, so they took her in for a C-section," Archer explains, his voice trembling. "They got the baby out, and they closed her up, and everything was fine. God, she was talking and laughing and happy and everything, but this morning, they had her get out of bed for the first time since the surgery, and she just… she collapsed. It was a pulmonary embolism, over in a second. She didn't have a chance."

"Oh god." This is happening. This is really happening. How is this happening? "Oh my god."

"So you have some decisions to make… f-for the baby," Archer elaborates.

The baby.

"Oh god," he repeats. His brain isn't working. His head is spinning, everything is spinning, and his whole body is nearly paralyzed with shock over the fact that Addison—beautiful, smart, funny, perfect Addison—is gone. He can't even begin to think about the baby right now.

"It's a girl," Archer continues. "You have a daughter. Ten fingers, ten toes, seven pounds, fourteen ounces. She's beautiful." Although his tone conveys absolute devastation, a hint of happiness is also present, as well as pride; it's clear that he is so proud of his sister for bringing this little girl into the world. "Her name is Aurora, and she needs you."

Mark swallows hard, willing himself not to break and trying to process all that is suddenly being thrown at him. Addison is gone, and now there is a baby. Her daughter. A little girl whom he will have to raise alone. Except he can't. He just can't. Not without Addison. Hell, even with Addison he probably still couldn't do it. "I don't know if I can."

"You have to. You are her father, and without Addison, you are her legal guardian. She's yours."

"But I don't have anything she needs. I don't even know what she needs. I-I've never even changed a diaper." Distraught over Addison and panicked over the idea of being a single father, his normally gruff, deep voice has taken on the tone of a scared child. "How can I possibly take care of her? How? Archer, I can't. You know me. You know what kind of person I am. I can't. I want to, but I can't."

"At least fly out here and meet her before you decide on anything."

xx

The whole transcontinental flight is a blur. He remembers throwing clothes into a suitcase and taking more Xanax than he probably should have, and the next thing he knows, he's in the nursery of a hospital he has never seen, sitting in a hard plastic chair in the corner of the room as Archer Montgomery carries a tiny pink-blanketed bundle towards him.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to hold her," Mark admits softly as Archer comes to a stop in front of him. The baby looks so small and fragile, and he is embarrassed by the fact that he doesn't know how to hold his own child.

"Until yesterday, I didn't know either," Archer answers, offering a sympathetic half-smile. "Kids are not my thing. The only baby I've ever I held was Addie, and that was 38 years ago when I was two and a half. Rory is a good baby, though. She isn't nearly as loud as some of these other kids in here, and once you pick her up, she calms pretty quickly. Just be sure you support her head and neck, and she'll be okay."

Mark is shaking slightly as Archer eases the tiny baby into his arms, and the moment she is settled, the floodgates break. He has been able to keep it (mostly) together so far, but now that he is looking at his daughter— at Addison's daughter—he can't hold back. He is not one to cry. He never ever cries, but this is their child that he is meeting for the first time, and he hates himself for being here when Addison is not. This little girl will never know her mother, and her mother will never know her. It isn't right. This is not the way things are supposed to be.

Aurora Addison Montgomery is beautiful. Her wispy hair is red like her mother's, her soft skin is a healthy pink, and as soon as Mark hears the little mewling sounds she is making and glimpses her little blue eyes blinking sleepily up at him, his decision is made. He can't let her go. He has no idea how to be a father or a caregiver to an infant, but he is going to do it anyway. He will figure it out because allowing Archer or Naomi or Savvy to take this little girl home is no longer an option. This is his and Addison's child, and already, he knows he would do anything for her in a heartbeat.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out as the baby grasps hold of his index finger with her perfect little fist. When she opens her mouth to yawn, a couple more tears spill down his cheeks, and he shakes his head. "If it weren't for me, Addison would still be here. This is my fault. This is all my fault. If only I had—"

"It's not anyone's fault," Archer insists as he pulls a chair up next to him and sits down. He looks like hell, but his voice is calm. "Addie wanted to have a baby, and she did. She loved Aurora more than anything, and she was happier than I had ever seen her. No one saw this coming. No one is to blame."

It was just some stupid one-in-a-few-thousand fluke. Mark knows it was, but the idea of there being no one to blame almost makes him sick. There is no one to be angry at, nothing to direct anger towards except life itself.

She was happy. She had just given birth to a beautiful, perfect little girl. She was a good person, a phenomenal doctor. She deserves to be here.

"I don't know how I'm going to do this," Mark confesses quietly, watching Aurora's eyelids drift closed. "Addison didn't even want me near her to begin with."

"I think this is what she would want now, though. She would want her daughter to grow up with her father. Aurora's life without a mother is going to be hard enough, but being raised by her father will at least give her something closer to normalcy," Archer reasons, initially looking down at his niece but then looking back up at Mark. "Look, if you can't do it, I will be more than happy to take her. I could tell her everything she ever wanted to know about Addie, but I think that, growing up, she would rather have a dad than an uncle."

Mark turns his eyes back to Aurora, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps peacefully, unaware of what is going on and how drastically her life has already changed. She is so small and helpless. She needs him, and as heartbroken, devastated, and terrified as he is, he can't just let her go. She is his.

"I'm going to need a lot of help."

A/N: I know. It's super angsty, and I killed off our favorite character, but stick with me here. I wasn't sure whether to post this here or in the Grey's section, but even though the story is based around Mark, all supporting characters will be from Private Practice. Thanks for reading. :) It's been a while since I've written anything.