Gloria in Excelsis Deo (Mark/Addison)
Title: Gloria in Excelsis Deo
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Summary: When you think you have nowhere else to go, there’s always a pew and a candle and a statue to give you hope. If you’re lucky, there’s a pair of arms as well.
Note: Extended The Hierophant for mad_carrie. This is an angst dagger, guys. Impale yourselves with care please.
She assures them that, as soon as their son is sutured closed and cleaned up, they can see their child and smiles sadly and tells them once more how sorry she is before handing the situation over to someone else and walking away with burning tears in her eyes. She waits until she’s out of sight before she speeds up her pace and lengthens her strides. She takes the stairs instead of the elevator, not wanting to risk seeing anyone.
But he sees her duck her head as she turns the corner and silently begins to follow her.
“Our father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name...”
The words spoken by a united voice of hundreds echoes in her mind as she walks down the hallway that will end in her private destination. It’s a voice that accompanied every Sunday until she went off to college and every Christmas since and every Easter possible. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done in Earth as it is in Heaven...” resonates through her head as she opens the simple, unassuming doors to the hospital chapel and a weight lifts from her heart when she sees that the small room is empty.
He takes a deep breath when he sees the doors close behind her and decides it is better to follow through and go inside than try to pretend later like he never saw anything. He’s made a silent promise to himself, and to her, to always be there completely now, no matter how she needs him.
It isn’t anything like the huge and ornate Gothic basilica she remembers of her youth and she doesn’t feel right without the sounds of the choir echoing against the cathedral walls and the booming Irish-accented voice of the preacher who guided her through so many decisions even after she moved away. But it is a house of God. It is a sanctuary in an otherwise chaotic, insane, absurd, and excruciatingly violent world.
She makes her way to an oak pew in the front and kneels, crossing herself before she lights a small votive candle of hope and takes a seat. She sits still for a while, relishing the quiet peace given to the room by the solid walls and heavy doors that block out the rush of the hospital around her.
“I don’t ask for much,” she starts, sighing as she opens her eyes and looks upward, “and I suppose no one really does so I shouldn’t be asking for special treatment. I know I’ve stopped praying and going to church and I’ve kind of neglected You and I’m sorry for that.” She takes a shaky breath and pauses for a moment to collect herself, finding a tissue in her lab coat to play with while she talks. “I know You don’t approve of adultery, divorce or abortion and I’ve committed all of those so I probably don’t have a leg to stand on here but,” she takes another breath and quiets her voice to a whisper, “I’m running out of places to go. I’m running out of things to hope for.”
His heart shatters for her as he listens to the strongest woman he knows speak of how weak and lost and hopeless she feels.
“I had the guy. The perfect guy. And then something happened and it all fell apart in a mess of adultery and bad decisions. I got pregnant and aborted it because it made sense at the time but now, a year later, I really wish I hadn’t.” She sniffles and wipes away a tear with the back of her hand at the thought of the baby she wanted but thought she shouldn’t have but now wants more than anything else. “I went after the wrong guy, again, and all he did was backpedal and hurt me. And now I have no one.” Tears start to fall down her cheeks without pause as she says what she’s been thinking out loud. “I can’t even have a child. So,” she swallows and bites her lip and readies herself to fall apart because she knows it’s coming. “I need a little help down here. I need something besides my work to make my life feel meaningful. Please.”
He listens to her speak to an unknown and unproven presence from his silent vantage point at the rear of the small and unadorned chapel. He knows that, while quiet, her faith is unfaltering and that the tiny gold cross at her neck is the one piece of jewelry she never removes. To hear her beg for help, and he thinks he hears seeds of doubt behind her words, shakes him at such a deep level. It scares him that she’s so close to broken that she’s here now, crying and raw with emotion and thinking it’s the last place she has to turn.
He’s never understood the idea of faith, the rock-solid belief in an all-knowing and all-powerful entity that created the earth in six days and plays a hand in every act of life. He especially doesn’t understand her faith and how it can be so strong given every obstacle that has been set in her path since she was born. Her father died when she was three, mother when she was seven, the aunt who became her guardian was an abusive alcoholic, and her favorite brother committed suicide when she was thirteen. Her fairytale marriage dissolved because her Prince Charming didn’t care and she aborted a baby only to find out a year later that she’s out of time. If he were her, he would’ve given God the finger and told Him to fuck off and bother somebody else. She amazes him and he thinks she’s insane for sitting here now in a tiny alcove of protection asking for the help of the being that threw everything that a person as wonderful as she should not have to face in her way.
“Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedíctus fructus ventris tui, Jesus...” she whispers under her breath the prayer she’s known since she was two in the language she hopes will give the strongest message because she opened the door to her tears and now she can’t close it so she simply lets herself cry and repeats the words over and over again as something constant and solid to cling to as her emotions run wildly through her. Her shoulders start to shake and she can barely even mouth the words but she tries and her hands make the motion of going through the rosary beads as tears fall into her lap even though her hands are empty.
He feels that he should have left her alone and given her the space and solitude that she so clearly wants. But he’s here now and he simply can’t leave her like this, crying and breaking and falling apart only feet away from him. He’ll never be able to forgive himself if he does nothing and he begins to slowly step toward her. He speeds up, making it to her side in three strides when he hears her sobs grow louder and sees her body shake with the effort.
Somehow, she knew he would be there. Whether he was her requested help or if he was just simply always meant to be by her side, she knew he would be there. Through her tears and the Latin slowly disappearing from her lips in favor of just crying, she lets him pull her off the hard pew and into his comforting lap. She loops her arms around his neck and weeps, unaware of just how hard she is capable of crying. She vaguely hears him whisper for her to breathe and she struggles to comply and eventually wrestles back control of her lungs and her body and forces herself to calm down enough to get herself to her hotel room.
His gentle hand keeps her head comfortably nestled in his shoulder and he slowly rubs her back as she quiets her sobs down into hiccups and finally into sniffles. She still holds tightly to him, not wanting to move, and it scares him a little. She’s never held onto him this long, not even that now-infamous night and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s witnessing the truth of the mighty falling. It’s something he hopes he never sees again.
“You’re okay, Addison,” he whispers, brushing his lips across her temple when he feels her start to shake again. “You’re okay.”
She nods, barely perceptible. “Thank you,” she whispers hoarsely in return. “Thank you, Mark.” She relaxes into him with a sigh, now staying there more because it’s comfortable than because she needs his strength to even breathe.
He steadies her when she’s ready to move and offers to take her home. She nods and crosses herself again before she takes his hand and unsteadily stands up. Lacing her fingers through his, she walks back down the aisle to the chapel doors. Even if it weren’t the middle of a slow night and the halls deserted, she wouldn’t be concerned with walking out of the chapel with his hand in hers. She’s too emotionally exhausted and she’s beginning to think that maybe a man who follows her and overhears the most private of conversations and doesn’t utter a word about it is the kind of man she wants and needs to be with.
“Stay with me tonight,” she says meekly and doesn’t let go of his hand as he tries to leave her room after giving her one last hug. “I...” she looks down. “Please?”
The vulnerability in her face nearly makes him start to cry; he feels that she should know by now that he always asks how high and the only reason he didn’t suggest it was out of respect for her. “Just let me grab something to sleep in. I’ll be five minutes.” He kisses her forehead and disappears into a room six doors down the hall and is back in three minutes. He smiles at her still standing at her door, one foot in the hallway to keep the door open for him.
He politely waits for her to change and get ready for bed, turning down the covers and fluffing pillows for her. She pads barefoot over to the bed, clicking off the light on her way, and slips in next to him. Her head finds its way under his chin and her feet tangle up in his as he pulls a blanket over them and tucks it around her. Feeling herself start to lose control again, she tries to fight it but his soothing fingers through her hair tell her that it’s okay and soon more tears are falling into his shirt and she grasps the material tight in her fists as something to hold on to. His arms wrap tighter around her to calm and protect her and he whispers that she’s okay and that he’ll take care of her and carefully brings down her anxiety and dries her tears.
“Will you consider taking me back?” She asks after he thought she had fallen asleep. Her voice is quiet, concerned and full of trepidation like she’s almost certain he’ll shake his head.
“Only if I’m the one you want.”
A few shaky breaths and a sniffle later and she nods. “You are.”
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Summary: When you think you have nowhere else to go, there’s always a pew and a candle and a statue to give you hope. If you’re lucky, there’s a pair of arms as well.
Note: Extended The Hierophant for mad_carrie. This is an angst dagger, guys. Impale yourselves with care please.
She assures them that, as soon as their son is sutured closed and cleaned up, they can see their child and smiles sadly and tells them once more how sorry she is before handing the situation over to someone else and walking away with burning tears in her eyes. She waits until she’s out of sight before she speeds up her pace and lengthens her strides. She takes the stairs instead of the elevator, not wanting to risk seeing anyone.
But he sees her duck her head as she turns the corner and silently begins to follow her.
“Our father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name...”
The words spoken by a united voice of hundreds echoes in her mind as she walks down the hallway that will end in her private destination. It’s a voice that accompanied every Sunday until she went off to college and every Christmas since and every Easter possible. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done in Earth as it is in Heaven...” resonates through her head as she opens the simple, unassuming doors to the hospital chapel and a weight lifts from her heart when she sees that the small room is empty.
He takes a deep breath when he sees the doors close behind her and decides it is better to follow through and go inside than try to pretend later like he never saw anything. He’s made a silent promise to himself, and to her, to always be there completely now, no matter how she needs him.
It isn’t anything like the huge and ornate Gothic basilica she remembers of her youth and she doesn’t feel right without the sounds of the choir echoing against the cathedral walls and the booming Irish-accented voice of the preacher who guided her through so many decisions even after she moved away. But it is a house of God. It is a sanctuary in an otherwise chaotic, insane, absurd, and excruciatingly violent world.
She makes her way to an oak pew in the front and kneels, crossing herself before she lights a small votive candle of hope and takes a seat. She sits still for a while, relishing the quiet peace given to the room by the solid walls and heavy doors that block out the rush of the hospital around her.
“I don’t ask for much,” she starts, sighing as she opens her eyes and looks upward, “and I suppose no one really does so I shouldn’t be asking for special treatment. I know I’ve stopped praying and going to church and I’ve kind of neglected You and I’m sorry for that.” She takes a shaky breath and pauses for a moment to collect herself, finding a tissue in her lab coat to play with while she talks. “I know You don’t approve of adultery, divorce or abortion and I’ve committed all of those so I probably don’t have a leg to stand on here but,” she takes another breath and quiets her voice to a whisper, “I’m running out of places to go. I’m running out of things to hope for.”
His heart shatters for her as he listens to the strongest woman he knows speak of how weak and lost and hopeless she feels.
“I had the guy. The perfect guy. And then something happened and it all fell apart in a mess of adultery and bad decisions. I got pregnant and aborted it because it made sense at the time but now, a year later, I really wish I hadn’t.” She sniffles and wipes away a tear with the back of her hand at the thought of the baby she wanted but thought she shouldn’t have but now wants more than anything else. “I went after the wrong guy, again, and all he did was backpedal and hurt me. And now I have no one.” Tears start to fall down her cheeks without pause as she says what she’s been thinking out loud. “I can’t even have a child. So,” she swallows and bites her lip and readies herself to fall apart because she knows it’s coming. “I need a little help down here. I need something besides my work to make my life feel meaningful. Please.”
He listens to her speak to an unknown and unproven presence from his silent vantage point at the rear of the small and unadorned chapel. He knows that, while quiet, her faith is unfaltering and that the tiny gold cross at her neck is the one piece of jewelry she never removes. To hear her beg for help, and he thinks he hears seeds of doubt behind her words, shakes him at such a deep level. It scares him that she’s so close to broken that she’s here now, crying and raw with emotion and thinking it’s the last place she has to turn.
He’s never understood the idea of faith, the rock-solid belief in an all-knowing and all-powerful entity that created the earth in six days and plays a hand in every act of life. He especially doesn’t understand her faith and how it can be so strong given every obstacle that has been set in her path since she was born. Her father died when she was three, mother when she was seven, the aunt who became her guardian was an abusive alcoholic, and her favorite brother committed suicide when she was thirteen. Her fairytale marriage dissolved because her Prince Charming didn’t care and she aborted a baby only to find out a year later that she’s out of time. If he were her, he would’ve given God the finger and told Him to fuck off and bother somebody else. She amazes him and he thinks she’s insane for sitting here now in a tiny alcove of protection asking for the help of the being that threw everything that a person as wonderful as she should not have to face in her way.
“Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedíctus fructus ventris tui, Jesus...” she whispers under her breath the prayer she’s known since she was two in the language she hopes will give the strongest message because she opened the door to her tears and now she can’t close it so she simply lets herself cry and repeats the words over and over again as something constant and solid to cling to as her emotions run wildly through her. Her shoulders start to shake and she can barely even mouth the words but she tries and her hands make the motion of going through the rosary beads as tears fall into her lap even though her hands are empty.
He feels that he should have left her alone and given her the space and solitude that she so clearly wants. But he’s here now and he simply can’t leave her like this, crying and breaking and falling apart only feet away from him. He’ll never be able to forgive himself if he does nothing and he begins to slowly step toward her. He speeds up, making it to her side in three strides when he hears her sobs grow louder and sees her body shake with the effort.
Somehow, she knew he would be there. Whether he was her requested help or if he was just simply always meant to be by her side, she knew he would be there. Through her tears and the Latin slowly disappearing from her lips in favor of just crying, she lets him pull her off the hard pew and into his comforting lap. She loops her arms around his neck and weeps, unaware of just how hard she is capable of crying. She vaguely hears him whisper for her to breathe and she struggles to comply and eventually wrestles back control of her lungs and her body and forces herself to calm down enough to get herself to her hotel room.
His gentle hand keeps her head comfortably nestled in his shoulder and he slowly rubs her back as she quiets her sobs down into hiccups and finally into sniffles. She still holds tightly to him, not wanting to move, and it scares him a little. She’s never held onto him this long, not even that now-infamous night and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s witnessing the truth of the mighty falling. It’s something he hopes he never sees again.
“You’re okay, Addison,” he whispers, brushing his lips across her temple when he feels her start to shake again. “You’re okay.”
She nods, barely perceptible. “Thank you,” she whispers hoarsely in return. “Thank you, Mark.” She relaxes into him with a sigh, now staying there more because it’s comfortable than because she needs his strength to even breathe.
He steadies her when she’s ready to move and offers to take her home. She nods and crosses herself again before she takes his hand and unsteadily stands up. Lacing her fingers through his, she walks back down the aisle to the chapel doors. Even if it weren’t the middle of a slow night and the halls deserted, she wouldn’t be concerned with walking out of the chapel with his hand in hers. She’s too emotionally exhausted and she’s beginning to think that maybe a man who follows her and overhears the most private of conversations and doesn’t utter a word about it is the kind of man she wants and needs to be with.
“Stay with me tonight,” she says meekly and doesn’t let go of his hand as he tries to leave her room after giving her one last hug. “I...” she looks down. “Please?”
The vulnerability in her face nearly makes him start to cry; he feels that she should know by now that he always asks how high and the only reason he didn’t suggest it was out of respect for her. “Just let me grab something to sleep in. I’ll be five minutes.” He kisses her forehead and disappears into a room six doors down the hall and is back in three minutes. He smiles at her still standing at her door, one foot in the hallway to keep the door open for him.
He politely waits for her to change and get ready for bed, turning down the covers and fluffing pillows for her. She pads barefoot over to the bed, clicking off the light on her way, and slips in next to him. Her head finds its way under his chin and her feet tangle up in his as he pulls a blanket over them and tucks it around her. Feeling herself start to lose control again, she tries to fight it but his soothing fingers through her hair tell her that it’s okay and soon more tears are falling into his shirt and she grasps the material tight in her fists as something to hold on to. His arms wrap tighter around her to calm and protect her and he whispers that she’s okay and that he’ll take care of her and carefully brings down her anxiety and dries her tears.
“Will you consider taking me back?” She asks after he thought she had fallen asleep. Her voice is quiet, concerned and full of trepidation like she’s almost certain he’ll shake his head.
“Only if I’m the one you want.”
A few shaky breaths and a sniffle later and she nods. “You are.”