Sorry it's been awhile! I whipped out the first thousand words or so easily after I posted Chapter 2, and then I guess I got stuck. It doesn't help that I started watching House M.D. for the first time in the last month or so, and first I got totally engrossed in shipping House and Cuddy, and then I went into a total funk because they broke up. (By the way, if anybody has recommendations for House fanfiction, please share). Anyway, the action in this fic is finally starting. I hope you enjoy - I'm not as confident in this chapter as I am in others, although I do love the little Mark/Addison/Dash scene. And thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and followed! Stay safe!

CHAPTER THREE: NO REGRETS

A hand trails teasingly down Addison's back.

She opens her eyes and squints through the darkness, just about able to make out the smirk on Mark's face.

"Welcome home, Dr. Sloan." Her voice is still rough with sleep. "How was your surgery?"

"The usual. My magic hands performed a lovely thyroidectomy – Avery was so impressed he was almost in tears. I saved some lives. Got the girl." He starts kissing down her shoulder.

"I see." She shifts, giving him better access to her neck as his mouth migrates upwards. "And are your magic hands not tired from all that work?"

He pulls away. "You'd think you'd know all about my unending stamina after so many years together."

"It's been a while, I think I must be forgetting."

"Guess I'll have to remind you, then."

And then Mark's on top of her, his mouth making its way down her clavicle, his hands further south, and if she wasn't awake before then she certainly is now…

The door creaks open and a thick wedge of light streams into the room.

"Mommy? Daddy?"

Mark's hands retreat, and Addison sighs, knowing they're not going to be doing any more magic tonight.

"What's up, bud?" Mark asks. "Bad dream?"

"Uh-huh." Dash trails into the light. His blonde hair is mussed from tossing and turning, and his monkey-patterned pyjamas is rumpled. He's holding his beloved (and by now, ratty) Blankie by a bedraggled corner, and it's dragging along the floor.

Addison sits up and stretches out her arms. "C'mere."

They must have actually made some progress with the whole bad dreams thing over the past few months, because instead of insisting on being picked up and carried into the bed, Dash makes the perilous journey across the dark part of the room, where the monsters lurking under the bed can snatch at his feet, on his own.

He crawls across the bed and into her embrace eagerly, snuggling against her chest. She welcomes the small, familiar weight of his body curled against hers.

Mark wraps an arm around the two of them, forming a protective barrier. "You wanna tell us about it?"

Dash shakes his head.

"It might help for you to tell us," he coaxes.

At first, Dash's answer is muffled, because he's hiding his face in Addison's side.

"I don't think Daddy can hear, Dashie," she tells him in a pretend whisper. "You know how he is, getting deaf now that's he's an old man."

"Hey!" Mark pretends to be overly cross.

Dash giggles.

"I'm not that old, am I?"

"Only a bit," Dash reassures him, patting Mark on the side of his face.

"Ah, that's alright then. I'll hold off on buying an ear trumpet."

A grin, showing a glimpse of his baby teeth. He's due for his first visit from the tooth fairy soon – one of his front teeth has a wobble to it, and he's constantly sticking his hands in his mouth to try and loosen it – which is strange, because it feels like yesterday that he hadn't begun growing any teeth at all.

And then his face goes scared again, and his grip around Addison tightens. "I dreamt a monster came and took you and Daddy away," he mumbles.

She exchanges a look with Mark.

They're used to the nightmares. They're used to the vampire in his wardrobe, the troll in his toy chest, the ghost under the bathroom sink.

He's never had a nightmare about this kind of thing before.

What are they supposed to say?

They're doctors – they know better than to promise that they'll never go away, especially when the staff of Seattle Grace have a tendency of dropping like flies.

"You know what I'd do if a monster ever tried to take me away?"

"Erm, shout for Daddy and ask him to come and hit it with a book?"

"Only if it's a spider. Try again."

"Get it with the monster spray?"

Addison smiles. The monster spray – at its core, simply an old bottle filled with water – was Mark's idea, and it works like a charm for your run-of-the-mill trolls and vampires who don't partake in parent-napping.

"Nah. We have to save the monster spray for the big stuff."

Dash shrugs. "I dunno then, Mommy."

"I'd march right over to the monster and tell him he was going in time-out for a whole hour." Dash's mouth drops in awe - he's never been in time-out for more than twenty minutes. "And if he was still being naughty after I told him that, I'd go to his mommy monster or daddy monster and tell them how nasty he was being, and they'd take care of it."

"Monsters have mommies and daddies too?"

"Most of them," Mark replies. "And the ones who don't have uncle monsters or auntie monsters or grandma monsters or guardian monsters… You're smart, you get it."

"Uh-huh. So if I see a monster who says they're gonna take you, I just gotta treat 'em like a bully?"

"That's all monsters are."

She feels Dash's shoulders relax, and his grip around her loosens. "Okay."

But there's a mischievous glint in Mark's eye, and she prepares for whatever he's about to do next.

"There's only one monster you have to be scared of."

"What?"

"The tickle monster!"

Dash shrieks gleefully as Mark dives forward, heading straight for the ticklish hotspot: his armpits. He thrashes happily, kicking his legs everywhere and getting the sheets tangled.

Eventually, still squirming, Dash manages to climb over Addison, taking refuge behind her back. "Help!" He cries, as Mark continues to reach over, getting in a few slightly less effective tickles.

"Alright, alright," she shuts the game down. "Stop it, Mark, before you get him too worked-up to go back to sleep."

He winks. "Yes, ma'am."

Dash returns to his designated spot between the two of them, still panting and pink in the face. "Love you," he declares happily, and Addison feels her heart burst.

She made the right decisions, all those years ago – sleeping with Mark, keeping the baby, ending her marriage… Because it all got her right here. And she wouldn't exchange this for the world.

It takes a while, but Dash does gradually fall asleep, his breath evening and the colour in his face returning to its natural pale shade.

"I can't get over you calling me Daddy," Mark says, apparently determined to ruin the moment with kinkiness.

"Don't make it weird," she replies, knowing he knows she's not serious.

And then her pager goes off. She kisses her boys goodbye, careful not to wake Dash, and leaves.

She gets the news shortly before the surgery – the mom didn't make it. Posy's an orphan now.

Arizona slumps against the wall. She's exhausted. This is exhausting.

How is she supposed to look that child in the eyes and tell her that she's alone in the world? She told Posy that the doctors in this hospital could perform miracles.

And Callie.

It feels selfish to focus on Callie when this little girl's whole world has just been turned upside-down, but she can't help it.

In a way, Posy reminds her of Callie. Not because Callie's the one doing her surgery, but because – hypothetically – if Arizona were to apologise, to stay in Seattle… They could be a family. Wives.

They could get a house in some stupidly suburban neighbourhood near Mark and Addison. They could have a big back yard, for parties and barbecues and dinners on summer evenings. They could get a dog.

And Arizona's never wanted kids, but she knows Callie does. She's seen the way Callie turns thoughtful on nights when they babysit, when they're on the couch and the credits to the film are rolling across the screen, and the darkness makes it easy to imagine that the small body tucked in-between them is theirs.

They could get a kid. A little boy, like Dash or Matty, or a little girl, like Posy.

They'd be happy.

But it's impractical. She's seen Meredith blinking back tears after yet another painful separation with Matty at daycare. She's watched Mark turn down high profile patients because their schedules conflict with Dash's tee-ball games.

Work and kids don't mix.

Getting the Carter Madison grant is a once in a lifetime kind of thing. Going to Africa is a once in a lifetime kind of thing.

If she says yes to Callie, if she makes a commitment to settling down and starting a family… There won't be an Africa.

And knowing that – knowing that they're the reason why – how could she not grow to resent Callie and their hypothetical kid and dog? She can't do that to them, or herself. She has to take this chance.

She's got to be brave.

She's got to be brave, she tells herself, as she walks into the room and is hit with the sight of Posy's face.

No more procrastinating. She's going to talk and – for the next few hours, at least – Callie is going to have to listen.

"Is Mommy out of surgery yet?" Posy asks.

"Sorry, honey," Arizona lies fluently, as she sits down next to Posy. "Not yet." The last thing Posy needs right now is more distressing news.

"Soon?" Her face is painfully earnest.

"It can be hard to tell. But you'll be in good hands for now, okay? When you wake up again, Dr. Torres will have fixed your leg and you'll have a cool cast that people can sign. Have you picked a colour?"

Posy nods sleepily. "Blue."

"Good choice. I bet blue's gonna go really well with all your outfits."

"Hope Mommy likes it," Posy mumbles. Arizona swallows, fighting the self-hatred which rises within her for giving her patient all this false hope.

"Okay, Posy, start counting down from ten," the anaesthesiologist announces, before Arizona has to try and think of a reply.

"Ten, nine, eight…"

Posy's eyelashes flutter shut and, just like that, she's out. Her chest rises and falls gently in time to the bleep of the monitors.

For the first time since Arizona met her, she looks peaceful.

Callie begins the surgery.

Arizona watches, admiring her slender hands, the way they know exactly what they're doing.

Finally, ten minutes in, she gathers all her courage, takes a deep breath, and starts talking.

"I love you."

Callie ignores her.

"I'd love to marry you."

Nothing but a scoff in response.

"But this grant is- it's three years in Africa, Callie. And I've got to go, otherwise I'll regret it."

"And because you'll be in Africa, we can't be engaged?"

She sighs. "No, that's not the point."

"If anything," Callie continues, "it would make more sense to get engaged now, before you go to Africa, so that we both have something to look forward to after you return."

"I don't want you to have to wait around for me alone for three years."

"Do they not have any phones in Africa? Do you not know how to write? Won't they give you some time off? Will I not be allowed to visit?"

"It won't be the same. I don't want you to have to go through all that."

Callie shakes her head. "Don't do that. Don't pretend to care."

"I do care."

"Do you? 'Cause to me, this doesn't sound like you worrying about me. This sounds like you needing an excuse to run away because you're scared."

"Of what?" Her answer sounds petulant. Although, maybe Callie's right. After all, if she'd been brave in the first place, she wouldn't have had to tell herself to brave now, would she?

"I don't know. Commitment, happiness?"

Arizona falls silent.

She could argue. She could go on and on about the percentage of long distance couples who last. She could wax poetic about the dangers of Africa, how she doesn't want Callie to have to suffer through sleepless nights full of concern.

But would that make Callie wrong?

Arizona's an adult. She came here to be brave. So she says, "You're right."

Callie freezes. "What?"

"You're right. I am scared. I'm scared that if I go, you'll find someone else while I'm gone. Or that you'll start to hate me for making you put our life on hold. I'm scared that if I stay, I'll hate you for not letting me do this. I'm scared that if I stay, we'll manage to build the perfect life you've always dreamed of, and I'll do something to mess it up."

Now it's Callie's turn to stop talking. She returns her attention to Posy's leg, to shifting the delicate bones.

Sat at the other end of Posy's bed, the anaesthesiologist determinedly avoids contact, obviously feeling awkward.

It's not like any of this news wouldn't have spread its way around the hospital anyway.

Callie sniffs.

Arizona's attention instantly returns to her girlfriend, pulled by an instinctive need to wipe away tears and hug Callie until she's not crying anymore.

She's not crying, though. Her eyes aren't any redder than before, either.

"Who says you'll be putting my life on hold by leaving?" Callie asks, finally.

Of all the possible responses, Arizona wasn't expecting this one.

"Well…" She fumbles, trying to find the right words. "We'd have to put off the wedding, probably."

"I don't mind – it would probably give my dad time to come around to the idea. And we could always elope."

"We'd have to wait- to have kids."

"We'd have to wait even if you stayed. IVF takes months of preparation. And the adoption process can last years."

"I wouldn't be there. When patients die, or when you lose something important, or if you get a promotion."

Behind her surgical mask, Callie's face softens.

"You're not always there when that happens to me now. There was a time when I hadn't met you and you weren't there then either. I'm not complaining," she adds, as Arizona starts to protest. "I'm saying that I can deal with those things without you. I'll still have my friends. And when something important happens, I'll find a way to contact you, even if it means hopping on the next plane to Africa."

Behind her own surgical mask, Arizona smiles.

"If we weren't here right now, I'd kiss you."

"Good. I'd kiss you back."

They're apologies, in their own ways.

Even if they haven't actually made any decisions yet, at least they've taken a step forward.

Later, as she's finishing off Posy's cast, Callie speaks up again.

"What if I went to Africa with you?"

Fresh off the high of a successful cholecystectomy, Meredith walks into Derek's office with a bounce in her step.

Derek greets her with a half-hearted wave. He's on the phone, talking in a low, concerned voice. His forehead is creased, eyebrows knitting together. This job is going to give him wrinkles - he's lucky he can pull off the whole silver fox look.

She sits down on his couch, tucking her legs up beside herself for a well-earned rest, and watches him. Her husband, the Chief of Surgery. It'll hit her sometimes at random points in the day, and she'll feel the pride blooming in her chest all over again.

Five years ago, she could have never imagined that she would end up this happy.

Derek finally finishes his conversation, sighing and running a hand through his hear.

"Tough day?" She says, trying not to sound too bright and shiny in case it makes him feel worse.

He doesn't answer, just walks over and pulls her into a hug. His day's been that bad, then. She wraps her arms around him tightly. He's rigid with tension, the muscles in his back all knotted.

"I was thinking we could go to lunch," she offers, thinking maybe he could use a distraction from work. "We could bounce Matty from daycare, splurge on some food that's not from the cafeteria."

It's a pretty big deal, as far as lunch plans go. Taking Matty out of daycare to eat means having to bring him back afterwards, which is a whole adventure in and of itself.

Derek breaks away from the hug, and then flops down on the couch beside her. "We can't." He sounds weary, tired.

"I know he'll make a fuss, but maybe if we give him a treat, get some McDonalds or something, he'll be in a better mood…"

She doesn't bother continuing – she can tell from the look on Derek's face that Matty's not the problem here.

"I need a list of everyone who worked on that priest," he says, after a moment.

"The priest?"

"The one we thought had encephalitis."

Meredith's heart stops for a beat. "Oh."

And then she knows with a painful, nerve-wrecking certainty that letting Cristina talk her out of that phone call was a bad idea.

"All five of us were there when he arrived," she says, knowing he'll know who she means. "But you know, he wasn't that exciting. I don't think there was anything for Cristina or Alex to do, they wouldn't have come into actual contact with him. Nurse Tyler helped with administering medication. And Nurse Gina was there – I don't know if she touched him."

Derek nods slowly. "That was the CDC on the phone. The coroner called them. Whatever this guy had, it messed up his organs on a serious level. We'll have to spend at least a week in quarantine, and I need to establish some new health and safety protocols for the rest of the staff."

He stands up again and starts pacing.

"I'll call Addison – have her take over as Chief until we can get back out. And we'll need someone to start prepping the isolation units ASAP…"

Patsy - No problem, dude! Thanks for reviewing. I'm going to try my best to make sure that the MerDer fam are happy for as long as possible.