-xi-

He sleeps peacefully next to her; unmoving, unperturbed, tranquil. He was a complete contradiction of what she was now—chest shaking, tears falling, heart aching. Only the cacophonous sound of machines could be heard aside from the occasional snuffle and gasped breathing that would erupt from within her. She held onto him tightly, and though her muscles and basically every part of her body hurt from being in the same position for hours she wasn't planning on leaving his side. She doesn't think she'll ever leave his side.

Seventeen hours, fifty-two minutes. That's how long Mark has been asleep—that's how long she's been here. That's how long it's been since she lost him. A part of her still held onto the hope that he'll wake, however impossible it may seem. He had to wake up. He had to be better—not for her, but for their daughter. If he died she doesn't think she'll ever be okay.

The relentless yet incomprehensible chatter of the people outside drift into Mark's room. She knew an audience was present outside; twice the usual amount of people watching the inside of her husband's room. There was no doubt that the whole hospital already knew. Many had come and go; Callie had come, Alex had come, Richard, Jackson Avery, and even Meredith Grey, of all people, had come. They all said the same thing: that Mark wouldn't have wanted her to be like this. That Mark would have wanted her to take care of herself and their child.

What if I have her and just die?

She dismissed the thought as soon as it came, a fresh batch of tears falling onto Mark's hospital gown. She suppresses the instinctual urge to wrap her arms around her burgeoning belly. Mommy didn't mean that, sweetheart. Mommy's never going to leave you. Emma was her miracle; their miracle. She was never going to let her miracle go. Her daughter was the only thing she had left of Mark. She loved Emma—she loved her more than anything else in the world; and Mark did, too.

Promise me you'll love her enough for the both of us.

She will. She'll try. But she knows she can never give Emma even half of the love Mark had for their daughter. Mark loved too much—and she loved that about him. Mark loved her more than anything else in the world despite her having hurt him more times one could count on both hands. She didn't deserve to be loved like that and yet Mark was always there. She was the love of Mark's life and he was hers.

She'll wait for him forever if she could. Mark told Richard to pull the plug after thirty days. She'll wait more than that if she has to. Mark waited for her—he waited and waited and waited and, despite all the hurt she put him through still, he waited. That was how much he loved her. He was always stupidly willing to do anything for her.

She doesn't know how she'll live without Mark. She doesn't know how she'll move on or if she'll ever move on. She doesn't know. Her life was filled with uncertainty; she doesn't know if she'll survive. All she knows is that nothing was ever going to be the same.

Someone enters the room. She hears the pitter patter of feet and soon after a voice says, "Addie?"

She recognizes the voice as Derek's, her ex-husband. She doesn't tilt her head or do anything to acknowledge his presence. She does, however, tense up when he lightly lays a hand on her arm. She was tired—so tired. She hasn't slept for fear that someone might move her; take her away from Mark while she slumbered. The endless crying sapped up all of her energy; coupled with the fact that she hasn't had anything to eat yet.

"It's been almost a day, Ad." Derek starts gently. "You haven't eaten anything. You need to eat, Addison, you're pregnant. Mark… he wouldn't have wanted this. You need to take care of yourself and your child."

When she doesn't reply, Derek speaks again with an even gentler voice. "Addie—"

She cuts him off. "Don't call me that." she hisses. "He called me that all the time and he's gone, and—don't call me that."

As if on cue the tears resurface yet again and fall onto her cheeks in cascades.

"He wouldn't have wanted this to happen, Addison." Derek replies.

"Leave." she says with a steeliness in her voice she never knew she still possessed despite her tired state.

She's in Derek's arms, a minute later, and it barely registers within her before she starts struggling against his hold. She knows it must be straining him more than usual because of his hand and her added weight—she wasn't exactly light, what with a 29-week old baby growing inside of her.

"No," she cries, "Derek, please. Don't—I can't-I can't leave him. Please, Derek."

Derek turns, obscuring her view. "I'm sorry, Addison." he says.

"Derek, I need to stay. I need to stay with him. I can't—please. Don't do this, Derek. Don't do this." she sobs. She can barely breathe. She can barely think. Her heart hurt; everything hurt.

"I can't leave him." she croaks, but Derek continues his pursuit outside Mark's room. Time slowed. She sees that only Richard and Alex were left outside. She doesn't know where they'll take her—an on-call room, perhaps. Or maybe somewhere they can get her and her baby checked. Her blood pressure was soaring. That, coupled with having had nothing to eat and having had no sleep could exacerbate the already dire effects high blood pressure could cause.

Derek makes his way through the vast corridors of the ICU. Richard and Alex trail close by, their faces one of sorrow and pity. "Take me back to him, Derek. Please." she begs, but Derek acts as if he hasn't heard a thing. Derek lays her down on a gurney inside one of the ICU's unoccupied rooms with difficulty. She beats her fists against his chest repeatedly and begs him to take her back to Mark's room. She hears Richard bark orders and sees Alex wheel in an ultrasound machine.

"Calm her down," Alex forcefully tells Derek. "I need to check if the baby's fine."

Derek sits down beside her and wraps his arms around her tightly, effectively restraining her. "I can't be in here, Derek, please. I don't—I'm fine. I'm fine. Please. I need to be with Mark."

"Calm down, Addison." Derek whispers against her ear, "ssh. Think of the baby."

Alex lifts her scrub top up, exposing her belly. He quickly squirts cold gel that makes her flinch for a split second. "I need to be with him, Derek—I need to—"

"It's okay, Addison. It's okay." The sound of her baby's heartbeat fills the room. It was slow, she notes, but it was still on the normal side of things. She stops struggling against Derek's arms and lays still, taking slight comfort in the fact that her baby was fine and that there was nothing wrong with it. It was a careless and selfish act, staying with Mark and forgetting to fulfill her basic needs—it wasn't just her anymore. Another life depended solely on her.

"Fetal heartbeat is normal—slow, but normal." Alex declares. "We need to lower her blood pressure down. She's risking pre-eclampsia."

Doctors and nurses enter the room as soon as Alex finishes his sentence. Derek doesn't leave her side but she sees him, Alex, and Richard look at each other knowingly and nod. Richard and Alex whisper to each other; Richard then whispers something to the OB/GYN attending in the room. Nurses stick needles against her skin and hook her up to an IV.

"Derek," she breathes.

"It's fine, Addison. They're just administering fluids. You're fine."

She sees them whispering again. The OB/GYN says something to the resident—she strains but doesn't hear. "Derek, I need to—" she says weakly, "—I need to go be with Mark. You have… surgery, and I need to be with him. Please."

Derek loosens his grip on her, and she finds she doesn't have the strength to struggle against him again. They must have sedated her. She feels her heart start to slow and her eyes start to droop. She thinks just how strange it must have all looked—Derek was her ex-husband. Eleven years, they spent together, eleven years he brought comfort to her during the hardest of times. His presence didn't bring comfort to her anymore; no one's did. No one except Mark's. But she doesn't think he'll ever wake up.

Everything fades away a while later, she goes limp and the velvet darkness consumes her whole.

"… she's exhausted. It was a miracle she didn't start contracting. She hasn't had anything to eat, she's dehydrated and she hasn't had sleep for more than 24 hours. She's 7 months pregnant. She should be resting."

The noise pounds against her ears. She stirs, and immediately she feels a hand close lightly on her wrist. The voices stop. She opens her eyes slowly. She sees sunlight seeping into her room through the window blinds—she notes that this is a different room, . She sees both Richard and Alex quietly watching her.

"Hey." Alex says. "You were out for a while."

"Mark," she rasps, "I need to see—"

"No." Alex cuts her off. "You need to rest. No visiting anyone. You're staying here another night for observation."

"Alex—" she starts, but Alex cuts her off again.

"Rest."

She pleads multiple times, only wanting to see and be with Mark but they all decline. They take turns watching over her—when Alex left, Richard was there, when Richard left there was Callie, and before Callie left Derek was there but Callie left, too, then Derek, but Alex came back and she was left with him. There was always someone watching over her, making sure that she was okay. She spent half the time asleep, contrary to how opposed she was at the idea of resting at first. It wasn't just her anymore. She had a human being growing inside her, depending on her to take utmost care while it grew within her. It wasn't just her—she had her daughter to think about.

She wasn't in any way sick, she wasn't contracting and her baby was perfectly fine—she knows she should have been cleared to go home as soon as she woke up. She supposed it was her friends' idea to pull strings, to make her stay for a little while longer to watch over her. They were worried about her. She knew that.

She asks Alex again if she could see Mark; she practically begs him to take her to her husband's room—she even tells him that he can be there to watch over her. To her surprise, he gives in and agrees.

He wheels her there, stopping at the threshold of her husband's room at her behest. She stands carefully, her legs shaking a little at first due to having not been used for more than a day but Alex quickly supports her, carrying her IV bag while having a hand on her arm as she padded towards the chair next to her husband's bed.

"I won't take long," she says quietly, looking solemnly at her husband and trying to make sense of it all—was he really gone? Wasn't it just a few days ago that he'd been so alive?

"I'll leave." Alex replies, momentarily flashing her a look of pity. "Take as long as you need. I'll be outside."

He leaves with the wheelchair. She stays mum and unmoving, only looking at the state Mark was in and observing all the machines connected to him. Emma does somersaults inside her, and she takes a deep breath as she rubs her abdomen gently. Slowly, she extends a hand and lays it against Mark's cheek and lets it stay there. It takes her a long time, but she manages to say something to him. Anything.

"Mark," she breathes.

"I'm sorry, Mark. I love you. I'm sorry we didn't have more time. I'm sorry you'll never get to see our child. I love you. I always will."

"I love you," she repeats, "I love you. I don't think I ever said it to you that much, but you said to me all the time. I should have stayed with you in New York—maybe then we'd have more time. You'd still be alive. We wouldn't have been on that plane. I should have kept the baby and divorced Derek and married you. I'm sorry for everything, Mark. I'm sorry I hurt you; I'm sorry I aborted our baby. I love you. I-I'll never love anyone as much as I love you."

"It's okay," she whispers, closing her eyes, "it's okay, Mark. You go. We'll be fine."

She takes another breath and stands. She takes her IV from where it hung and step by step makes her way out Mark's room. Each step felt as if she were being stabbed in the heart.

"Red?"

She barely hears it, but it's enough to make her stop and turn. She'll recognize that voice anywhere. She never thought she'd hear it again.

Mark had half his eyes open; he was blinking repeatedly in an attempt for them to adjust more quickly to the room's brightness. Her heart seemed to have stopped inside her chest—she doesn't know if she's dreaming; if she's making everything up but she hoped in vain that she wasn't, that this was all real. She all but runs to his side.

"Mark?"

"Ad-Addie?" he rasps. She held his hand tightly against hers. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"You're awake, Mark," she replies. "You're awake. God—you're awake. I thought you were gone. You're awake."

Mark was breathing, talking, moving. He flashes her a look of worry and confusion, and if only she could tell him what had happened the past few days in its entirety she would.

Mark was alive.

Alive. The world wasn't so cruel, after all.

-xii-

"Mark always loved you," Lexie Grey blurts out suddenly, prompting her to raise her eyebrow, "even when we were together. There was always something different; something holding him back."

She looks at the preemie's vital signs, noting the changes from yesterday and marveling at how much the baby had improved in such a short amount of time before returning to look at Lexie Grey, Meredith's younger sister and coincidentally, Mark's ex-girlfriend. The resident was in her service today, something she knew the preschooler didn't particularly like.

"I-I'm sorry, Dr. Montgomery, I just—I don't get it."

"Don't get what, Dr. Grey?" she asked the resident. She was thankful that there were no nurses and doctors around to hear their conversation.

"You aborted his baby. You broke up with him; you hurt him so many times but he still loves you. He still loves you. And I-I don't know why."

"You left him, Dr. Grey, because you couldn't handle his pregnant teenage daughter. You left him when he needed you the most. We hurt each other. We hurt each other but, despite everything, we've always been there for one another. Mark and I will always love each other; we've got way too much history. It was inevitable."

"But if you had stayed with him, he would have learned to love you. Even more than he loves me." It was a scary thought, but it was true. Lexie wouldn't hurt Mark; she wouldn't abort his baby, break up with him and hurt him over and over again. Mark would have loved Lexie. But somehow, the fates had made it so they still ended up together despite all the hurt; despite all the damage they'd done to one another.

She leaves Lexie Grey to ponder on what she had told her; whether the resident had taken it to heart or not she didn't bother knowing.

-xiii-

He goes home three weeks later, miraculously having been deemed healthy by all of his doctors. They fall into a steady routine, with him doing physical therapy every Tuesdays and Thursdays each week and her performing surgery, still, carefully going about the hospital as her due date loomed closer with each passing day. It is hard, at first—the plane crash hit them harder than they thought in many ways possible—but they manage. Mark was alive and doing fine; the worst was over and that was enough.

She's still scared she'll lose him. She's still scared that he'll somehow succumb to something the doctors hadn't detected and suddenly die—she's scared of many things. She's scared she'll lose her baby; she's scared something might happen and either she'll die, or her baby will. She has nightmares about it all the time; ever since Mark came home. The underlying fear and worry about the uncertainty of life plagues her daily. She knows Mark is worried about her, but she doesn't want to concern him about it—he's still dealing with the aftermath of the crash himself.

They start meeting with lawyers regarding the lawsuit against the hospital. They win, and everything is fine until they find out that due to a loophole the insurance company found, the hospital will be paying them instead—causing it to go bankrupt.

The board members start to search for companies willing to buy Seattle Grace – Mercy West. They succeed, and after a while she finds herself subjected to the new regulations, which include the use of certain surgical techniques to lessen surgery time and increase productivity, which will thereby save money, budget-cuts in each department which saw the loss of both nurses and doctors in OB/GYN, and the closure of the ER, which sends her in outrage.

When she, Mark, Arizona, Callie, Meredith, Cristina, and Derek find that they don't quite like the new (or soon-to-be) administration's rules, they resign. They devise plans on how to prevent the administration from taking over, each pitching far-off ideas that surely wouldn't work until finally, the idea comes to them: they buy the hospital with the money from the lawsuit.

The money, it turns out, still wasn't enough. They bring in Richard, who adds a few million to the equation and a plethora of knowledge about how to run a hospital. She and Mark meet constantly with the other doctors—they meet at a daily basis as they scramble to find money to buy the hospital before time ran out.

She loses herself amongst it all; her grief reminiscent of the time Mark was in the hospital coming back as she remembers just how careless and inconsiderate she'd been, just how she'd treated herself as if she hadn't a child growing inside her. Guilt crashes into her, still, even as she works with the others to try and find a solution to their problem.

Her resolve finally crumbles one night, when she and Mark get home from another meet night at Meredith and Derek's place.

"I'll go brush my teeth." Mark says casually, and she all but collapses into their bed, sitting at the edge and cradling her stomach with her bare arms.

By the time Mark comes back, her head is hung low, her cheeks wet with tears; her vision blurred by them. Mark's fingers raise her chin gently, and when he finds that she's crying, his face crumples, and he sighs.

"I'm sorry," she croaks. Mark masks his face with that of curiosity, and dismay.

"When you—when I thought you were going to die," she starts, "it was awful, Mark, I—I was awful. I almost lost her. I didn't think about her at all; it was—I was—I was selfish. I can't stop thinking about it, and I haven't told anyone, and—I'm going to be an awful mother."

"When I thought you were going to die, I thought, what if I have her and just die, too?" she whispers. Mark sinks down to his knees in between her thighs and gently lays his head against her stomach. "I was so selfish. Stupid. But I took it back, because, because I—I loved her. I love her, Mark. I can't lose her. I can't lose her. But for me to even think... what if I'm not a good enough mother, Mark?"

"Hey," he replies, looking at her, "it's fine. It's over. I'm alive, and you're alive, and our daughter is alive. She's right here. You're not going to be a good mother, Ad, you're going to be a great mother."

He takes her hands in his and continues.

"We're fine, Addison. I'm not leaving, I'm not dying, I'm here. I'm here, Ad. We're okay. You don't ever have to worry about me leaving again."

I apologize for not having updated in such a long time! Only one chapter left; I'll have it up really, really soon.

Please don't forget to review afterwards! I appreciate each and every one of them!