All We Are (We Are)
Charlotte King was never one to complain about her troubles. She was raised to hold her head high, keep her chin up, and never let anyone know her weaknesses. And that's how it begins – it starts with a problem that she can't fix, another sleepless white night staring out the window, and she doesn't know what the hell's wrong with her, but she's driven back there, inexorably back to Oceanside, because they don't really count and she just needs to sleep, damn it. She needs to get away from the thoughts that are plaguing her brain.
Tasted, tasted, love so sweet
And all of it was lost on me
Bought and sold like property
Sugar on my tongue
"She can't self-soothe, that's just it," muses Violet, staring at her chart. "She's never been taught to calm herself to sleep. She's just a ball of nerves."
Addison Montgomery can relate. It took her years to learn how to sleep alone. Before that, she had to have someone rub her back, play with her hair, or fuck her so hard into the mattress that she'd fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. Since she's come to Oceanside, she hasn't had one sleepless night. It's the sea sounds outside her window; it's the warmth of knowing that everyone around her cares about what happens to her, even if they've only known her five minutes.
They're all peering into Pete's office, where he's leaning concernedly over Charlotte, who looks like a child in the bed, covers up to her chin. She's so thin, so tiny, such a ball of fire, that it's hard to remember that she's human. And sure enough, everyone's making cracks about the "tiger". Addison simply has an almost overwhelming urge to take her into her arms and rock her. She chalks it up to the fact that she's ovulating right now and the baby rabies gets fierce around this time.
Charlotte closes her eyes determinedly inside of Pete's office, and Addie knows that this is another challenge that she's going to win – no, she's not going to let the insomnia beat her this time. Addison knows it, because she's the same way.
Kept falling over
Kept looking backwards
I went broke believing
That the simple should be hard
Okay, so why is it a problem that Charlotte's childhood was shitty? Why was it a problem that her father beat her and her mother cowered in the corner of their Georgia plantation house, where everything is beautiful except for the secrets inside? Come on, everyone has pain. Yeah, so Charlotte wet her bed until she was fourteen because she was so afraid of her father. She was anorexic through high school and became a drug addict in medical school. She's the youngest physician to ever make Chief of Staff at St. Ambrose, but it was because she fought all those things, okay? She didn't give into the fact that everyone treated her like shit. She became the best and she IS the best, and fuck everything else. You know what, fuck it, she's going to leave here anyway. Insomnia can be explained medically, and she's not touchy-feely. She's not. Tears can be explained medically, too, you know.
All we are, we are
All we are, we are
Every day's a start of something beautiful
"Get out of my way, Montgomery," Charlotte growls as she pushes past Addison, who is coming down the hall from her office to fetch a coffee. Addison steps back, amused. "Insomnia treatment not working?"
"I'll sleep eventually. It's nothing," says Charlotte, shrugging into her coat. "I'm not willing to spend a million hours on this, like you Oceanside people are. I've got a hospital to run, you know. And anyway, I can sleep when I'm dead."
"Well, if the work doesn't kill you first," drawls Addison, continuing down the hall. "Give Pete a chance. He's pretty good at cracking tough cases."
Charlotte waves a dismissive hand. "Whatever. He's a quack, and you're fast turning into one, too. I actually expected more, considering you're a surgeon."
"Yeah, but unlike you, I'm not cold." Addison turns the corner into the kitchen and peers back around it, winking at Charlotte. "See you tomorrow."
"If I come back!" shouts Charlotte as she gets into the elevator. Fuck Oceanside.
I wasted, wasted love for you
Traded out for something new
Well, it's hard to change the way you lose
If you think you've never won.
Charlotte was married once, you know. She had a husband, and then she had an addiction, and the bastard wasn't strong enough to stick around through it. She didn't need him, anyway. Except sometimes, she misses his presence beside her in bed. She misses the relationship they never really had. She misses being held.
Now she watches Addison come towards her, helping Pete smear on the grey goop that's supposed to help her sleep. "What the hell is this, anyway?"
"It's a blend of herbs that should knock you right out," says Pete, his voice soothing. "I hope you cleared your schedule for today. You're going to be having a much-needed nap."
"Naps are for children," Charlotte grumbles, but the spots in front of her eyes say differently. Addison finishes her gentle massage, which is doing more for Charlotte than just relaxing her. "Naps are highly underrated," she smiles, her voice smooth, like Charlotte suddenly has decided she likes it. Last night, she had a weird vision of Addison holding her close while she tried to sleep. She's tried to shake it off all day, but having the beautiful redhead above her, her Christian Dior perfume wafting down to her, isn't helping.
Pete smiles and leaves the room while Addison continues to stand by Charlotte. "Charlotte . . ."
"What, Montgomery? How do you people expect me to sleep when you're still talking to me?"
"You'll never sleep with that attitude. Look at you," she says, pointing at Charlotte's hands, which are clenched around the covers. "You're more wired than a computer lab. Try to relax," she soothes, putting her warm hands over Charlotte's cold ones. "You need to let go of it."
"Of what, may I ask?"
"Of everything." Addison's blue eyes are so meltingly beautiful that Charlotte almost gets lost in them. Addison's expression changes and Charlotte realizes that she has tears on her cheeks. "Shit."
"You're human, Charlotte. Stop pretending you're not." Addison pulls the covers up to Charlotte's chin and strokes the part of her forehead where there isn't grey paste. She flicks the lights and leaves the room.
Charlotte turns her face into the pillow and feels a physical loss.
All we are, we are
All we are, we are
Every day's a start of something beautiful
"Okay, quack, this is the fourth day I've cleared my schedule to come here and I still cannot sleep!"
Charlotte's hair is flyaway, her hands have cuts in them where her fingernails dug in, and her eyes are wild. Pete is, frankly, scared. "Okay, I've got a tonic we can try. Meanwhile, why don't you hang out in Violet's office for a second?" He steers her towards Violet's office, mouthing "crazy" to Addison as she passes.
Addison follows Charlotte in, where a harassed Violet is trying to calm her down. "You need to tell me what's wrong, Charlotte. You need to tell me why you're so angry."
"I'm angry because you idiots haven't helped! I've been everywhere else! Why haven't you helped me?" Her voice breaks, her face becomes streaked. "I can't sleep, don't you understand? I don't want to think about it anymore!"
Without Violet's permission, Addison sits beside Charlotte on the couch. "Okay," she says, her voice soft. "Don't think about it anymore."
"Addison –" Violet warns, but Charlotte is staring at Addison. "I thought that being stuck in that house was the worst thing. I thought that his steps on the stairs was the worst thing. Being alone is the worst thing. He left. He left because I was too hard. I'm too broken." She buries her face in her hands, and her sobs are harsh and ragged. Addison simply reaches over and cradles Charlotte in her arms, letting her lean on her chest, making soothing sounds.
Violet simply gets up and leaves, rolling her eyes. Whatever. Addison's apparently a psychiatrist, too.
Addison rocks Charlotte back and forth, feeling the thin arms, the knobby shoulders, the tiny body shaking with a thousand years of grief locked away. She says nothing, and Charlotte says nothing, but somehow during that soothing time, they end up kissing.
Addison's lips are soft; her cheeks are smooth, her hair is silky and cool against Charlotte's fingers, and she's shamefully aware of her rough surgeon's hands, her slightly wind-burned skin, her tangled blonde hair with a hint of that grey paste left in it. But Addison doesn't notice, because she's teaching Charlotte to self-soothe.
"Think about that instead," she whispers, and leaves the room.
In the end, the words won't matter
In the end, nothing stays the same
In the end, dreams just scatter
And fall like rain . . .
They're gathered around Pete's door again, where Charlotte is finally asleep on the bed, her hair smoothed with grey paste again. "I wonder what finally did it?" Naomi muses, chewing on a fingernail. Addison smacks her hand out of her mouth. "Quit it."
"Addison made a breakthrough with her," says Violet, her voice holding a hint of jealousy. "She's one broken little girl, our Dr. King."
"We're all broken somehow," Addison murmurs. "She's just never had anyone to help her fix it."
All we are, we are
All we are, we are
Every day's a start of something beautiful
Something real
When Charlotte wakes up, she's completely calm. When Charlotte goes to walk out of Oceanside, she's back to her old self. And then she sees a hint of red hair swishing over a satiny back, and long legs in Manolo Blahnik shoes, and she realizes that she's not really ever going to be the same again.
All the quacks in the world can't cure insomnia. There's a medical reason for everything.
And Charlotte's convinced that whatever Addison is, she's more than simply a surgeon.
All we are, we are
All we are, we are
Every day's a start of something beautiful
Beautiful.
