𝙓𝙓𝙓𝙄𝙑.
ADDISON AND BETH

──────

ADDISON WAS STANDING on my doorstep.

I froze in the centre of my apartment, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth as I stared towards the door Charlie currently held open. 

I nearly choked on a mouthful of foam, eyes nearly bulging out of my head. My skin went slick with sweat and Charlie's head turned to look back at me, a look of bewilderment mixed with alarm, blooming across his face.

That look said: 'You didn't tell me your sister was in town.'

"Addison," My tone said, 'I didn't know my sister was in town' and I hoped Charlie picked up on it.

He looked as though he was about to go into cardiac arrest, his head spinning with everything I've ever told him about this illusive woman.

I knew Charlie well enough to know that he took things like this seriously. He'd cooked Derek a meal. He'd thrown around concepts for a bonding trip with Archer. He'd tirelessly droned on and on about

I'd missed one of Addisons phone calls. 

I'd missed a single phone call because I'd been in a therapy session and miscalculated the time differences. Three days ago, Addison had been in New York for a neonatal convention. Now, she was stood on my doorstep, looking at Charlie with a smile that said: 'so you're the guy who keeps proposing to my little sister.'

"You must be Charlie." 

She ignored me completely and continued to fix her eyes on him, eye contact heavy and unmoving. I hung my head, practically throwing my toothbrush into the kitchen sink— within a few moments, I was stood directly behind the two of them, palm pressed onto Charlie's shoulder.

He was mortified. He was shirtless and mortified.

We'd ordered food on delivery, a breakfast from a deli around the corner and he'd opened the door with a fifty dollar bill ready in his fingers, fully anticipating to exchange it over for some good quality breakfast subs. 

But instead, the fifty still flapped solemnly against the air, limp and sad. Addison took a few steps inside, inviting herself over the threshold and placed her hands pointedly on her hips, looking around. My boyfriend blanched as he closed the door and quickly excused himself, running off into the bedroom to get dressed.

As Addison's face twisted slightly, I felt my heart stutter with fear- my eyes widened. "Is it Archer? Is he ok––"

"Archer's fine." Addison interrupted before I could have any more of a downward spiral. Her lips curled upwards in a brief smile, something that was fleeting. "He's doing better than fine actually... he's walking now. He's doing really well."

"That's good."

It was almost an automated response. 

As happy as I was hearing about how Archer was doing, I already knew. Addison wasn't the only sibling who liked to have now regular check-ins. He'd taken to texting me little paragraphs, I preferred it to calls. 

He was happily getting better, balancing his recovery with meeting milestones with his girlfriend and dipping his toes back into work. Archer was great but something told me that Addison wasn't.

There was a sadness in her.

"Good." I repeated, still tense and suspicious. "That's really- really great- Coffee?" I was mumbling, dazed and set ablaze by her sudden appearance.

Addison hadn't asked to come to Seattle. She hadn't asked to visit. She hadn't asked for my address either— as I boiled a kettle of water, I played eenie-minie-mo with the perpetrators. 

My final answer was Derek because he was always one for bridging gaps and uniting people (which was ironic seeing as Seattle seemed to make him moodier and (just slightly) violent). As much of a shit-stirrer as Mark Sloan was, I knew he'd plead the fifth if Addison ever brought it up.

Addison took her coffee milky, which was the complete opposite to me. I liked my strong and dry, while she liked hers almost watered down with milk— she barely blinked at me as I sat the coffee down in front of her. 

I already had one, abandoned on the table, growing cold in the slightly frosty December air. She seemed barely fazed by the fact that I remembered her coffee preference perfectly. After all, Starbucks Barista had always been a promising career path for me.

"You probably want to know why I'm here-" I pursed my lips, shrugging as if it was the last thing on my mind. She rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry for springing up so suddenly-"

"Not at all!" 

The storm-force that was Charlie-the-hostess-Perkins breezed out of the bedroom, fully dressed this time and a charming smile plastered across his face. He seemed calm and collected- all from the red hue at the tops of his ears. 

"It's fantastic to finally meet you!"

I watched these two people interact with the strange sensation of two people in your lives colliding. 

It was more intense than it had been when Derek and Charlie had met, and, somehow even more than Mark— 

I blinked as I watched him stick out a hand; Addison took it, visibly delighted with the introduction.

It was such a different reaction to mine— Charlie looked ecstatic as he offered refreshments like a reflex. 

The looseness of his limbs, the strain in his shoulder blades and his careless lips were a giveaway. He was nervous and when Addison pointed out she'd already been made a coffee, he barked out a nervous laugh.

I watched him, an eyebrow quirked.

I'd never had anyone act like this around my family before. 

Past boyfriends had been composed; even "the love of my life" bad boy from adolescence who had been subjected to a steely gaze from my father, hadn't even wavered (he'd broken up with me for another girl anyway, so I tended to think that composure meant that they didn't really give a damn).

I bit my lip, watching as Charlie tangled Addison in a long conversation. He kept glancing towards me as I looked between the two of them, still frazzled. He was discussing the weather, animatedly, nervously. 

But I could tell that Addison had something different at the front of her brain. He guided her to the couch and offered her more refreshments, which she declined-- it was then that I took the initiative to interject. Good timing too as Charlie's phone rang in the bedroom, the familiar ring tone spilling through the door. He apologised profusely and chased it, disappearing into the backroom.

I gingerly sat opposite my older sister, crossing my ankles.

"So, what brings you to Seattle?"

Addison's round eyes fixed on me with an intensity that I felt all the way in my toes. "Mark's daughter."

"Oh." The corners of my mouth downturned. That didn't mean anything good. "He called you out here?"

"Yeah." She said quietly, looking down at the floor, nursing her coffee close to her chest. The forlorn look in her face reminded me painfully of our mother. Feverishly, I looked away. "It doesn't look good."

"It must be pretty bad if Mark's knee-jerk reaction was your phone number-"

"Amniotic band syndrome..."

"Around?"

"The baby's legs."

"Shit." I knew enough to know that that wasn't good. I took a large mouthful of coffee and shook my head, feeling my heart ache for the Sloan child. "You're going to try and fix it?"

"Yeah," Addison said, pressing her lips together into a thin line. She was silent for a few seconds before she spoke again. "Do you think this is how Derek felt when I turned up with Archie?"

I let in a long breath. "Hard to say. You're not quite operating on your ex-hubby's brother, are you?"

"No but it's Mark's daughter, Mark's grandson—" She cut herself off, bunching her eyebrows together. "I'm just feeling a little stressed at the moment-"

"So you came here?" I raised an eyebrow. "The most calming place you could think of?"

"Honestly?" Addison seemed to think for a few moments. She looked rather lost in this city, as if she was a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. I had the feeling that she'd never taken to Seattle like her ex-husband had. "I'd rather here than an empty hotel room where I'm just left with my thoughts."

For the first time in a long time, I pitied her. 

My sister was the sort of person who needs constant attention, much like a dog or an annoying potted plant. It was one of the reasons her and Derek went so far down the drain, she'd never been able to cope with competing with his career for attention. 

Now, dragged back into Seattle by her ex, Addison was out of place.

I scrunched up my nose. "So you've forfeited solitude for listening to Charlie fawn over you."

She shrugged. "Looks like it."

I pressed my palms into my coffee mug, squeezing it and staring at my sister. Addison was sat rather uncomfortably, back pin-straight and head tilted to the side. 

Our momentary silence was filled by the sound of Charlie on the phone in the next room- he sounded as if he was on the verge of an argument. I glanced towards the door, concerned.

"He seems nice." Addison said, as if she just wanted to say something to fill the silence. I nodded meekly.

"He is."

"I'm happy for you." She tried again.

"I know."

She took a long look at the coffee mug in her hands. "You make good coffee."

"I know."

Another pause. 

Awkwardness. 

Conversation still wasn't easy, there was a certain lull to all of my conversations now. A topic would be picked up and I'd ride that wave for as long as I could, but then it'd fall and I'd be staring at the floor bleakly until Addison could find something else to talk about. She was like me, unable to contend with deafening silence, although over the years I'd lost the will to fight it.

Charlie continued in the background and I wondered whether it was his mother again. She liked to phone up and he claimed that half the time it was for an argument. She didn't even know about his surgery— Charlie had reasoned that it was too dumb to tell her and I'd agreed. She was a very persistent woman and I was hit by a brief wave of sadness; I hadn't spoken to my mother in years and she'd never checked in like Donna did.

"Are you free today?" Addison asked softly, as if she was just testing the water. I looked up from the floor quickly, almost giving myself whiplash. As soon as I made eye contact, she started talking quickly as if she was scared she'd loose breath. "I have the surgery prep later but I really need to do something to keep my mind off of it- I was thinking brunch-"

"Brunch?" I interjected with a rawness that caught at the back of my throat. 

Addison halted her ramblings, eyes going wide and round like a pair of car headlights, flashing with wariness. 

I swallowed thickly. "Brunch sounds good."

"Really?" Her face lit up.

"Yeah." I played with my bottom lip in between my teeth.

"Fantastic- do you know any places we can go?-"

I interrupted her a second time.

"One condition."

Addison halted in her seat, freezing as she went to take a sip of her coffee. It might've been the lighting but I could've sworn that she looked a little scared.

I'd never done anything like this. Set conditions or ground rules. That had been Addie's thing. When brunching in Manhattan (which happened just as much as Gossip Girl says it does) she'd always come up with these little rules. What skirt not to wear, what denim to burn, when into the meal I'd be able to order my first morning cocktail— whatever fear I thought I'd seen was curtly pushed under a calm composure.

She waited.

"I want to talk." I went a little light headed at the thought of it. "I want to talk about you and Mark- about what happened in New York."

***

I once asked Charlie what the worst thing that had ever happened to him was. 

It'd been back in Boston, when we'd been loitering around in the space between friends and something more— he'd raised an eyebrow at me, my feet in his lap and some 70's horror movie on the television set.

"I played football in high school," His brow had creased and his mouth had curved downwards as he answered. He'd paused, collecting his thoughts. "I was on track to college football, I was good enough—" A sad sigh. "But I took a bad hit- fucked my knee up so bad that I had to go into surgery for it- it was bad. Like really bad. I had to give up the game. It caused a lot of shit—" Another long breath. "And I'm still paying for it, I think."

He'd asked me the question in reply and I hadn't had an answer at first. But then I thought about it and smiled sadly; "Going to New York was pretty crap, wasn't it?"

He'd chuckled at that, but it had reverbed around us like a lament. It left me with clogged thoughts and questions that had been plaguing me for years at that point. I'd never gotten any answers to anything, never been able to shake myself free of the shock and confusion that Derek had put onto me over a single phone call.

I'd spent the rest of the movie sad, and as if sensing it, Charlie had hugged me a little tighter.It was that same night that I realised I was in love with Charles Perkins for the first time.

***

Answers.

Charlie had answered the phone ten minutes ago and by the time I stuck my head in to say goodbye, he'd hung up. He was sat on the bed; I watched as he frowned at the nightstand, eyes hard as he looked towards the discarded cell phone. I faltered in the doorway.

"Everything okay?" 

My tone was ginger and soft. As if a switch was flipped, Charlie's head snapped up, a leisurely smile nearly splitting his face in half. I knew that smile— that smile was going to contradict his next words.

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes." He repeated and I did really believe him in that moment. Softly, he let out a breath, his shoulders dropping. Charlie rubbed his hand over his face. "It was just my Mom asking whether I'm coming home for Christmas—"

"Are you?" I asked.

Christmas was creeping up on us pretty quickly. I was beginning to lose track of the days as they all merged into a mess of hospital hours and nights where it got dark earlier. We'd yet to talk about it, both too busy with our schedules to keep up with one another. I'd collapse beside him every night, exhausted and he'd do the same— exhausted by the amount of long distance work he was doing. 

I was sure that Charlie had forgotten what month it is; he looked slightly frazzled by the prospect of going back to Boston for the holidays.

"I think Andrew wants me to." That was code for 'the boss has summoned me'. I liked Andrew perfectly fine, but he was his mother's son, that was for sure. "But I don't know— what are you going to do?"

Well, I hadn't been invited back to Connecticut for Christmas, that was for sure.

I'd spent my last Christmas' fitting in where I could. 

Last year I'd been in a crisis centre on the East Coast and had ended up in a community kitchen dishing out meals for the less fortunate while on the clock for a mass shooting down the street. The year before that I couldn't quite remember— was I in Canada or was I abroad? And so on.

"I'm staying here." I said, sounding sure because I didn't have any other options. Charlie nodded.

"How does Boston sound?" He tried to pitch it to me but I gave him a strained smile.

"Seattle sounds better."

He dropped his head, gazing for a few moments at a nondescript space by my feet. He chuckled to himself, letting out a long sigh.

"Seattle it is."

"You don't have to stay." I frowned at him. "Don't stay on my behalf-"

"Are you kidding?" He asked, eyebrows raising as he met my eyes. He looked genuinely mystified. "I want to spend Christmas with you-"

"But you already spent Thanksgiving here-"

Suddenly, Charlie was walking towards me. He caught my hands as I spoke with them- his fingers laced with mine. "I want to spend Christmas with you."

I looked at our hands, my eye catching on the finger Charlie had hacked off only a month ago. 

It was still wrapped, making typing (which was most of his life at the moment) rather difficult. He was still very ginger with it; I caught his eye, a smile playing at the corner of my mouth.

"I'm going out with Addie."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

"It's just brunch."

"I meant for Addison."

"You're funny."

"And what's brunch code for?" He tilted his head to the side. I rolled my eyes. "I'm just kidding, B. Have a good time- don't forget to go to work later." He teasingly poked my side, but then grimaced when he realised he'd used his bad finger.

"Brunch is brunch." I said, even though brunch meant interrogation.

 Charlie wasn't paying attention to me, his eyes were fixed on his finger, bottom lip wedged under his teeth. I looked around his medication, spying the familiar bottle of pills on the top of the end table. It was nearly empty. 

"Hey, don't forget to take your medication."

He followed my gaze, towards the bottle. He seemed to sigh. 

Come to think of it, I didn't think I'd seen him take any, even though the contents were going down. 

"Have a good time." He pressed his lips against mine. I smiled into the kiss, drawing back to admire him for a few moments. "And good luck."

I had a feeling that Addison needed luck more than I did.

When I returned to her, she was waiting, cell phone in one hand and her coat in the other. She gave me a small smile as I walked her out of the apartment, leading her towards the elevator. I bit down on my tongue as we passed Mark's apartment— but naturally things weren't that easy. Sloan was stood in the doorway, a overnight bag for her surgery at her feet.

She looked up as we passed. "Oh- Doctor Montgomery, right?" 

Addison and I exchanged a look.

"Sloan, hi." Addison's face broke out into her friendly doctor smile. 

I'd once gossiped with Amy about how Addie practised that face in the mirror. It was one of those that was too perfect to be genuine and not rehearsed. Sloan lifted an eyebrow at her but didn't say anything- instead, she looked over at me.

"Oh- and you from the hospital-"

"Yeah." My smile was less effective as Addie's. "And neighbour, actually." 

I jerked a finger over my shoulder towards my door. Craning her neck, following the gesture.

"Huh." She said as if she hadn't quite ever thought about who was living around her.

I didn't doubt that at all.

"Sloan have you got your toothbrush—"

I glanced over at Addison as Mark appeared, looking frazzled. Like the rest of us, he looked as though he'd barely slept. His hair was messy, cheeks gaunt and if it wasn't for his voice, I would've thought he was sleepwalking. 

His daughter turned towards him, scrunching her face up at the question as if he'd just asked a annoying riddle.

"I thought you'd packed it-" 

The shrill yell she shot back towards him hit me with a familiar chill. I looked over at Addison a second time; her smile slipped a little bit and she squinted from the damage to her ear drums.

"I left it out for you to use it," Mark hadn't noticed us. I turned towards Addison and gestured for us to leave. But again, just our luck- as we walked away, Mark caught sight of us. Namely, Addison. "Addie- hey!"

He looked delighted at the sight of an adult, making me momentarily wonder where Lexie was in the chaos of his apartment (probably at work seeing as it was a Sunday and interns would haul ass over the weekends). 

Mark orbited towards the two of us, eventually noticing how I was awkwardly wedged in between my sister and his daughter— he lifted an eyebrow.

"You guys catching up?" He sounded dubious.

"Yes." Addison's answer was bright. It then struck me that I hadn't really had a conversation with the two of them at the same time, since that day years ago. I swallowed thickly. "Thought I'd take some time to settle myself before surgery."

"You guys call a truce or something then?" His eyes bounced towards me and hung on. Sloan, meanwhile, was just staring down at her phone, texting away as if it was the most important thing in the world. "Beth, are you handing those out for free now?"

"If only it was that easy, huh." I said, but there was an undertone of bitterness.

"You should've told me before I begged for it." He continued to joke. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Addison frown over at me.

"Mhmm." Was all I could say.

In my head I was far away from here. Maybe in bed actually. Not too far but far enough. I was in bed and Charlie was hugging me and I was far away from this conversation. 

"God," Sloan interjected, her sharp eyes, Mark's eyes, cutting into us from over her phone. "This is awkward."

And then a pause.

"Dad," Sloan said, almost a whine with an accusing stare, "Did you really have to sleep with both of them?"

I blinked over at her, my eyes narrowing for a split second before I managed to take in Mark's facial expression. 

He looked pale pale, as if all of the blood in his body had just evaporated into thin air. 

He stared at his daughter, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. Next was Addie- she had averted her eyes to the ceiling, her face noticeably red and smile no where to be found. Mark wasn't often speechless, maybe that's why I found it so funny. 

He was stood there without a clue what to say, just opening and closing his mouth for a full ten seconds. A long, slow laugh fell out my lips and I grinned at Sloan, eyebrows so high up my forehead that they almost disappeared into my hairline.

"I like you." I said to her. 

She rolled her eyes at me and went back to her phone like nothing happened. I chortled again, shaking my head side to side in disbelief- this conversation had ended on a high note. 

I clapped Mark on the shoulder. "Good luck with that talk, Mark."

Then we left; Addison more stressed than she had been before she'd arrived.

***

It was starting to snow in Seattle.

From the moment a few snowflakes fell from the clouds overhead, the city went into a haphazard halt; traffic slowed, congestion intensified and the air was suddenly thick with apprehension.

Compared to New York, this was easy. Back there, we'd had painfully long snowfall, to the point where every winter we'd have to stock our pantries up with canned goods if we ever had the misfortune of being stuck. 

One winter, Derek had ended up stranded out on a highway and Archer had borrowed a snow plow from a nondescript friend to go save him in time for a surgery (Derek never did live that one down).

A few snowflakes in Seattle wasn't enough to despair us. We walked, side by side along the sidewalk in the direction of downtown. Addison, who loyally was equipped in heels like any given day, teetered and slid in a few places, but managed to stay upright. 

She was dressed professionally, kind of like my therapist, Laurel, but somehow more conservatively. Meanwhile, I was suited in one of Charlie's Patriots t-shirts and jeans, finished off with a pair of thick socks and a trench coat.

My sneakers kept snagging on the black ice the coated the ground— Addison had to steady me as I wobbled on a particularly vengeful sheet outside the same delicatessen I'd agreed to meet George at.

When I was sure I wouldn't faceplant, I gestured towards it, making Addison look up towards it's charming sign.

"A delicatessen?" She read, frowning as if she'd expected Keens Steakhouse. 

My sister had refined tastes, something that I blamed entirely on my father. He was the sort of father who'd order lobster for every meal because he could, and even though Addison was an entrees and water cress sort of girl, it'd left a lasting imprint on her.

"It's not The Rainbow Room," My sigh froze in the air, a cloud of white funnelling through my nose. "It's not Katz— but it's got it's own charm."

I expected Addison to turn her nose up at it completely. 

Once she'd refused to eat at Peter Lugar because she didn't like how all the waiters wore bowties instead of classic ties. I just gazed over at her, chin encased in my coat, ears hidden underneath a thick woolen hat and fists buried as far into my pockets as they would go. Addison met my gaze with an unfamiliar look in her eye.

"Okay." She said, as if it was as simple as that.

I tilted my head to the side. "Okay?"

 She nodded. 

I turned back to face the little delicatessen, bewildered by the character development. 

"Okay."

Imagine my further surprise when my sister ordered something with substance— I returned to the table to find her sitting contently with a hot turkey sandwich. I slowed considerably in my step, tilting my head to the side as Addison raised an eyebrow at my noticeable surprise.

"You're not vegetarian anymore?" I asked.

She'd been a vegetarian ever since she'd dated George Day in boarding school. His family had faming money, the largest provider of poultry in Connecticut. It'd taken two visits to the Day family farm for Addison to swear off of meat. Another two for her to call it quits with George entirely.

"I haven't been for nearly four years." Was her off-handed reply. She glanced at what I set on the table in front of me. "Half sandwich with Matzo Ball soup?" I nodded numbly at her correct guess. Addison flashed a delighted smile. "You haven't changed a bit."

You have, I wanted to say.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" 

I settled at the table, feeling heavy as Addison tried to pick up the conversation in between mouthfuls of hot turkey. I stirred my soup slowly, trying to gauge Addie's emotions— she came off unbothered and composed, eyes casually flickering between her sandwich and my guarded expression.

"New York."

She licked a strip of mustard down the side of her thumb. "What about New York?"

"About after." I felt uncomfortable. My skin prickled with the weight of what was buzzing in my head. Questions I wanted to ask but answers I was scared to know. My brow furrowed as she continued to eat, completely unaffected by the hefty pause I'd left behind my words. "After I left-"

"Well," Addison cleared her throat, leaning backwards in her chair. "I stayed at the brownstone and tried calling Derek but he wouldn't take any of my calls so I-"

"You and Mark," I interjected without even directing those words to my mouth. 

I hadn't even touched my food. I just leant forwards, gravitating towards the way that Addison seemed to finally falter. It was subtle, almost invisible to the untrained eye. But I'd spent years soaking up her every detail, I knew discomfort when I saw it.

The give away was the way her eye twitched at his name. No- their names together. Addison and Mark. The accusation; You and Mark. There was a You and Mark.

"Me and Mark." Addie repeated, her voice breathy as if she could barely even stand the feeling of the phrase on her tongue. She paused, exhaling sharply through her nose. Then her composure broke; "God- Beth- I'm so sorry-"

I turned my face away from her, unable to handle the way that her face moulded into that expression. Guilt wasn't pretty on Addison Montgomery. A lot of things were— but guilt was downright ugly. I looked away towards the front of the shop, where the snow was still light and leisurely. When I looked back, Addison was staring at my hands, mouth downturned at the way I was gripping the edges of the table like it was keeping me tethered to the earth.

I hadn't even realised— I let go swiftly, arms retracting back into my sides.

"This was a mistake-" I said and Addison looked heartbroken, until I spoke again. "Let's change the subject."

And we did. 

Addison must've thought I was going to leave because she stared at me for a hot minute before nodding, clear relief plastered over her face. She started asking me things. What had I been doing before I'd come to Seattle? How was I settling into my apartment? How was Charlie getting on with the city?

Eventually it became evident that there were things that Addison wanted to know too— just as I'd had a motive to this brunch as well. Gingerly, she pressed onto other topics as I cooled my hot soup with puckered lips. How long had I spent in rehabilitation? Where had I gone? What was my current milestone?

I managed a strained smile as I fished about my mind for those make-or-break statistics.

"Two years clean from everything— well," I faltered, "until a few months ago."

Addison smiled sadly. "I'm proud of you. Do you got to any groups?

My smile faded into a grimace and I shifted in my chair. I scratched the back of my neck and found myself very interested in my food. Addison tilted her head, brow furrowing as I didn't respond.

"No, uh," I cleared my throat. "Just therapy."

This was very uncomfortable. 

Just months ago, Addison had been calling me careless, irresponsible for drinking on that plane. Now, she was acting as if I had just made a minuscule mistake. 

It was unsettling. A quick drastic change in character from the Addie I'd grown up with and harboured so much resentment towards— maybe the meat was altering her brain chemistry slowly and you could only realise it over long periods of time.

"I've had a lot of therapy." I mumbled, spooning soup onto my sandwich so it was soggy. "I like to think of myself as equipped for any situation but that's a fucking myth, isn't it-"

"Don't be so hard on yourself." Carnivore Addie said. "It's really good that you're trying. I'm sure everyone is really proud of how far you've come too-"

"Why?" I looked up from my wet bread to fix Addie with an elevated eyebrow. "You're not being hard on me for some reason. I've got to pick up the slack."

My sister stared me down, lips pursed as I held her gaze with no difficulty. 

She was bothered by my words, I could tell. Her eye was twitching very slightly, as if she was double blinking every time. Eventually, she just looked away, paranoid by the way it trembled. She dabbed at her chin with her napkin, then sighed.

"I'm trying to be supportive."

"How?" I replied a little sharply. "By turning into a kindergarten teacher?"

"I'm not trying to be patronising-"

"Well, you are." I said, my eyes dropping to the way she rung her hands in front her.

The absence of her wedding band really struck me— I hadn't noticed it before. 

Derek's empty space was filled with his ring too Meredith but Addison's was still stark and bare. Her finger looked skinny and lonely without it, almost lost and hopeless. It made my heart drop to my ass again and the questions rise (Had her and Derek tried? Had she and Mark been a thing? How easy had it been to screw me over? Did she actually feel bad or was that all another act?). My head was too loud for me, I tried to tune it out by talking again.

"You sound like Naomi."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"You sound like Old Mom."

That caused Addison to halt. 

We both knew what Old Mom meant; that meant happy Mom, non-dysfunctional Mom, back when she gave a damn Mom. It was bittersweet Mom and now, looking back at it, read a little fake Mom because she'd never wanted kids in the first place.

"That was a dirty blow." Addison said and her voice sounded slightly strangled. I almost felt bad, but the vulnerability in her didn't last long. Composure for her was like a second nature. She straightened in her seat. "I just wanted to be nice."

"Don't be." I dismissed her without a moment of hesitation. "Be you."

I didn't need to say bitch. 'You' and 'bitch' were synonymous when it came to Addison Montgomery.

Her reaction wasn't what I expected. 

Much like me in the corridor outside Mark Sloan's Batchelor pad, Addison let out a slow but uncontainable laugh. 

It rang for a few moments; she pressed her napkin back up against her mouth to force it back into her body. It was loud and a couple on the next table over turned to stare at us scathingly. Addie ignored them.

"You're going to think I'm stupid." She said thickly to me, instead. My knee-jerk reaction was to tell her I already thought she was stupid, but I refrained. "I've been going to therapy sessions to help me be a 'better person'. I've been working on how to be a better sister- but clearly not working hard enough-"

Ah, so it wasn't the chemicals corporations pump into the meat. 

My sister was on her own path of self-discovery, one which seemed to be paved with concrete slabs engraved with my disapproving face on it. Addison had tears in her eyes from her contagious laughing spree and sunk back into her chair, looking slightly miffed with her confession.

I just placed my spoon down onto to the table cloth, delivering the next line with a perfect balance of heartfelt fuckery and deadpan. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

This caused my big sister to freeze completely in her chair. Her dark eyes burrowed deep into mine as her mouth fell open. 

She clearly wasn't expecting that— it took a few beats for her to process it, but eventually she let out a caught-off-guard chuckle.

"Bitch." Her voice was breathy. 

A mix of an accusation and a statement of admiration. This time, I laughed too. 

"You're a stone cold bitch," She said to me.

And I couldn't agree more.

There was this blissful moment in which my muscles unclenched and I felt a bit of what there was before. Addison smiled at me, continuing to shake her head.

Her short hair bounced and she let out a long sigh.

"Thanks for trying." I said in a small voice that Addison barely even heard. But she did, her eyes glittered in the soft light.

"In all honesty, it was Sam's idea." She shrugged, stirring her peach tea. "I've been a bit all over the place the last few months— seeing you again really put things into perspective." Good, I wanted to say. "So he gave me the idea of going to a shrink out in Malibu. It's been... uh, it's been pretty good."

"What did it give you perspective on?" I asked softly. 

I could feel my heart constrict as I tiptoed into what would be emotional territory. My sister gazed over at me, nibbling on her bottom lip as she thought over her answer.

"Everything?" She sounded unsure. "You and me, I guess."

"What about You and Mark?" 

Again, Addison reacted overtly. She blinked quickly, hiding her mouth behind her napkin. If I didn't know better I would've thought she'd flinch. 

"Did you guys have couples therapy?" I asked.

At this point I was fairly sure that they'd been a couple. She'd already mentioned it once today with loose lips. My voice held traces of venom, mostly because there was years of unattended bad blood that was boiling away under my skin. I felt my face flush.

"No." Addie spoke quietly. "I called it quits when I came to Seattle to find Derek." I had no idea what that meant. How long was it between me leaving and Addison leaving? Was it days? Weeks? Years? I didn't know these logistics. "I realised that Derek was the one I wanted to be with, but by then-"

"By then he was with Meredith?"

"Kind of, yeah." She looked deeply uncomfortable. Her face contorted into a grimace. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"I think so." Was my detached reply. "I've spent years just wondering about it. Spent years in therapy hypothesising about it with shrinks. I just-" I let out a breath. "I need to know."

"Know about what in specific?"

"Why?" I pressed my lips together. Addison shifted in her chair, sighing as she realised I wasn't going to let her off easy. "Why lie to me like you did?"

"I didn't mean to-"

"But you did."

"I know-"

"You gaslighted me." I mumbled sadly, "You told me everything was fine, Addie."

"I know." She repeated, her eyes growing glassy. "And I'll never stop telling you how sorry I am for that."

"I trusted you."

"I know."

"You hurt me as much as he did."

She had nothing to say.

"I don't blame you for sleeping with Mark."

  I didn't. I didn't blame anyone for sleeping with Mark. That was Mark's fault; women get the blame too often when people cheat. It was Mark's issue that he couldn't keep his dick in his pants. 

"I mean- it's Mark," I said, "He's magnetic, he knows exactly what to say. I don't blame you for giving into him. But I do blame you for everything you said-- for the months of making think I'm going crazy. For making me stay with him-- and that's what I don't understand?"

Addison was silent.

"You manipulated me." I repeated. "At least Mark was honest with me and tried to make things right-"

My mind flickered back to all of those times I'd turned up at Addie's apartment, tear stricken as I rambled on about how everything with Mark was going downhill. 

It'd been going bad for a long time but there was a certain day where everything seemed to accelerate. Addison had consoled me and told me that everything was fine; Mark loved me, she said and I'd believed her.

"You didn't want to get caught, did you?"

She didn't answer my question, just continued her silence. It just confirmed my suspicions.

"It's because he was there and Derek wasn't, right?" Addison looked away but I continued to talk. "I've spent ages trying to figure out what it was that made you finally give in. Derek was busy, he was at work. He didn't have time for you but Mark did-"

"It was a mistake." Addison said, her voice thick with emotion. But she also seemed matter-of-fact, as if she'd let go of any shame that she had around it. "I wasn't like Mark-- I'm not like Mark... I didn't take any joy out of harming anyone. I just- I was scared that Derek would find out- I-"

"But after Derek left?" I cut her off because I did not care for her excuses. "After I left New York- you and Mark... you were still together?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because we were all we had." She shrugged, napkin now crumpled in a clenched fist. "With you and Derek gone, my marriage down the drain- Mark's, well, whatever you guys had, done for-- Naomi and Sam moved away that same month to California and Archer never returned from Connecticut-- We were alone."

It must've been like watching rats fleeing the Titanic. 

Derek and I gone in the span of hours. Naomi and Sam catching a westerly wind across the country. 

I wondered whether Addison had felt the same loneliness that I had felt standing in JFK. I'd been drunk on that flight but I'd remembered every moment of it, completely defeating the purpose of drinking in the first place. 

Had Mark felt lonely? Had he felt bad--? 

Those were the questions that I really didn't want to ask.

"How long?" I asked, aware of how quiet the delicatessen was. My older sister ran a hand through her hair and fanned herself, as if the conversation was making her clammy. "How long was it until you followed Derek over to Seattle?"

"5 months." Addie didn't seem too proud of her answer. She refused to meet my eye. "By that point I'd realised that I really wanted to make my marriage work. No affair was worth losing Derek over-- by then it was too late. He'd slept with Meredith the same night he'd left Seattle. I had him back for the briefest time... but he chose her over everything- I-" She let out a breath and her shoulders fell. "And then Mark came to Seattle to find me-"

"He came to Seattle for you?" I echoed, eyebrows high on my forehead.

"Yes." She looked sad for me; but I just felt miffed. What a dedicated couple they must've been. Addison had been able to siren sing him across the country. I'd barely even been able to get a conversation out of him. "He wanted a relationship that I couldn't give him."

I laughed but it sounded pained. "Yeah, he seems to be giving them out now."

"Mark's changed." Addie crinkled her nose as she thought about the same man we'd left pale in the apartment complex. "He's not tried to sleep with me. So there's character development there. And his kid--" She broke off. A cloudy look appeared on her face as if she was caught on a sad thought. Enough for the light sheen of tears to gloss over her eyes. "He's completely devoted to Sloan-"

"So Lexie said."

"I told him he'd be a terrible father." 

She was caught in her own thoughts and I couldn't help but stare at her. Addison's lips were fixed downwards and she was on the verge of tears. At first I thought it was to do with the stress of her surgery later, but after a few moments, I got the feeling that there was something else. 

"The look on his face," She shook her head and winced at the image of it in her mind, "it must've been one of the cruelest things I've ever said to anyone-"

"I said it to him too," I said quietly.

It was true.

It'd been a heated argument; we'd both been saying things that we shouldn't have been and my pupils had been dilated to the point where everything was a whirl of colour. But I'd remembered the look on his face-- the argument had ended there and he'd left the apartment, slamming the door on his way out. 

"We're both terrible people."

"No- I-" Addison choked on her words. She stopped, pressed her napkin to her lips. "I was worse- I--" Something seemed to shift in her brain. She sat up straight in her chair and busied herself with re-alligning the salt shakers in the centre of the table. "You're going to hate me."

"Try me."

"No- really."

"Addie-"

Her chin wobbled. "I left New York because I was pregnant."

That, I was not expecting.

The silence was expected. My blood reduced to shards of ice in my veins, causing my whole body to go rigid; I stared back at my sister's round, wide eyes and exhaled sharply through my nose. 

She had our Mom's eyes, a more indulgent shade of hazel to my bottomless mud-brown. In that moment, I felt completely transparent-- it felt as though my Mother was sitting there, staring at me, waiting for me to confess my sins onto the table. 

She'd do that sometimes, maybe when I'd been caught coming home late from a party or had gotten a shitty grade on a test. For a split few seconds, my Mother would care-- and then I'd talk and the world would continue again.

It wasn't the same with my sister. Addison cared too much, much like me. Our Mother had once said in passing that it was a trait we'd inherited from our Father, but I'd never believed her. That sick bastard had only cared about his drink.

I wasn't exactly sure how Addison wanted me to respond. Did she wanted me to confess some shitty things that I'd done too? Did she want me to ask if I was an Aunt? Ask whether the kid had Mark's eyes or our Moms?

There was only one real thing I really wanted to say, but I couldn't.

Because that was: I'd been pregnant when I'd left New York too.