Title: A Shot Forward
Author: Tanya
Rating: PG-13, some violence, a little language.
Classification: A Grey's Anatomy Addison-centric story.
Spoilers: Can't say exactly what and when, but turn back if you have no clue and don't want to know what happens in season 3.
Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own any part of Grey's Anatomy, no pun intended.
A/N: I've enjoyed the many great Addison fics here and have decided to put in my two cents worth. This is my first time posting, but no worries, I have a thick skin and any criticism will be taken as pointers for improvement. So do review and tell me anything, anything at all. I'd especially like to know what sort of shipper fic you would prefer. I honestly don't know what to do on that front…
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Part One
Addison Montgomery tapped her foot impatiently as she took long drinks of coffee. What on earth was taking so long? There had been five people in front of her five agonizingly slow minutes ago, and the said five were still closer to being attended to than her. You know your life's in the pits when you spend half of your day off standing in line at the bank she thought to herself, chuckling silently at her need for speed and efficiency. It wasn't just a need, but more of a drug-like dependence to satisfy the two qualities that were so much a part of her nature. As one of the country's best neonatal surgeons, no, as the best neonatal surgeon in America, Addison's life was all about speed and efficiency. If she ever took her time or cut corners at the hospital, people died. And in her realm, these people were little people, fresh out of the womb and brimming with hope. Which brought her back to the present situation.
Was there no hope of her getting to the front before lunch? Bank tellers could take their time. After all, no one was going to die if the line remained at a standstill. The lone teller tapping away at her keyboard had a nametag which allowed Addison to blame a certain Marie Jenkins for her growling stomach. If only she could so easily place blame on anyone, anything for all her turmoil. Now she sounded ungrateful. What did she know about suffering? Seeing what her patients and their parents went through on a daily basis should've taught her just how deep human tragedy could reach. In comparison, her life was a bed of roses, cliché, but true.
Addison Forbes Montgomery grew up in a good neighborhood, had two loving parents, attended good schools, achieved high academic results and eventually graduated a Dr. Addison Forbes Montgomery M.D. without becoming buried in student loans like so many of her peers. Although money created opportunities came easily enough, she never could find it in her to sit back and wait for the eggs to hatch. Dr. Montgomery graduated on top of her class, for all intents and purposes moved into the hospital during her internship and outshone everyone else during her residency. In that respect she could see much of herself in one of Miranda Bailey's interns, Christina Yang. Dr. Yang had such a desire to succeed that it would've been a crime if she were to fail.
Yet she wasn't completely like Yang. She was always too emotional, too involved with her patients, more like Isobel Stevens, another one of Bailey's interns. What was it with her and Bailey's interns? Addison flushed as she thought of Dr. Karev, Alex Karev, Dr. Alex Karev's warm lips against her own. Admit it Addie, you're standing here in a bank, with a day off because you're a coward. She couldn't face Alex because she didn't know what to do. Now that wasn't like her at all. Dr. Montgomery always knew what to do. This made her a brilliant surgeon. She knew during her surgical rotation that her small and nimble fingers put her at a selective advantage when navigating a small surgical site. Hence she found herself gravitating towards pediatric surgery.
That was until she met Fred. Fred was a charmer. Addison thought of Fred when she woke up in the morning, between rounds, in the shower, practically anytime she had the luxury of mulling, she thought of Fred. He had wormed his way into her heart and she dreamt of him at night, heard his infectious laughter even at home. But she couldn't save Fred. Her seven year old blond haired blue eyed angel died on the table and there wasn't a thing Addison could do about it. Since then, she saw Fred in every sick child's face, heard him through a child's laughter and felt him in the sort of clear and penetrating gaze only children can give. It wasn't surprising that Addison back-pedaled from pediatrics. Her heart could not take it, her anger and guilt too fresh.
Except that her mentor Dr. Richard Webber would have none if it. She owed Richard her career. He had seen her slide and forced her into the 'vagina squad' knowing that Dr. Montgomery would do her job no matter what. And that was how a top neonatal surgeon was born. Addison channeled her anger into making sure that no baby under her care would become Fred and her guilt eased somewhat with the knowledge that she was damn good at preventing future Fred's.
Fred…
Addison gave a start as she caught a glimpse of a blond head disappearing behind a pair of jean clad legs. Her heart lurched as giggles reached her ears.
Several people watched bemusedly as a young boy ducked under the velvet ropes again and again ahead of her. The boy's father was too absorbed in the morning paper and paid no attention as his son's actions caused the rope to hit several of the customers as the boy twisted it in his small hands.
Addison quickly looked away, eyes focusing on a pot of geraniums by the door. This line needed to move faster, she needed to leave before the pain of remembrance came back full force.
"Next" Marie Jenkins how-may-I-help-you announced proudly as the line shifted forward. Addison shuffled her feet, concentrating on counting the number of people in line even though a part of her brain shouted out the answer. Five minus one, four. She had to count, counting was a distraction. One, two, three…
"Everybody down!" the gruff voice hollered. The owner had his face hidden behind a black ski mask so that only his eyes gave away a small part of his identity. If the eyes were truly the windows to a persons soul, then this man's soul was as dark as the menacing twin black pools he cast left and right, leveling his gun at anyone he spotted not abiding his instructions.
Dropping to the floor, Addison watched as the other patrons followed suit.
Another gunman had come through the door, also sporting a ski mask and a pistol which he used to ram against a security guard's temple. The guard crumpled where he stood, gun clattering to the floor, legs keeping the door ajar while his attacker pocketed his gun and strode into the premises.
"Step away from the counter" the first gunman instructed Miss Jenkins, waving his gun to indicate that she move to where most of the hostages sat in a huddle. "Push any buttons that'll bring the cops knocking and I'll knock a couple 'a rounds into your pretty head ya hear?"
Addison watched the hostages. Several men and two women. One was young and sobbing uncontrollably, pressed up against an older one who was trying to comfort her without drawing attention to themselves. She was unsuccessful and the second gunman reached down and grabbed the crying one by her hair, yanking her roughly to her feet.
"You" he said, pointing to the cowering bank manager with his gun. The man had tried to blend in with the crowd but his Armani suit screamed person-in-charge. "You'll get the money out from the drawers. Quickly and quietly or else I'll shoot our friend here, understood?" Addison noted that he was well spoken compared to his partner.
The Armani suit nodded, rising to his feet, taking the proffered bag and retreating behind what little security the counter offered. He started from the left most drawer, moving right, opening up each drawer and stuffing all the cash into the bag without hesitation. Addison studied Marie Jenkins, grateful that the snail slow teller wasn't the one chosen to retrieve the cash. Goodness knows what would happen if she failed to meet the quickly requirement. Once that was done, the manager held out the bag to the gunman.
"Now collect their wallets and purses" he waved towards the people gathered at his feet. "Take anything valuable."
"This is ridiculous!" the man with the little boy exclaimed, unable to quell his fury at having to surrender all his belongings.
Addison winced as the robber cuffed the butt of his gun into the young man's head. Her trained ears heard the crunch of bone cracking and the doctor in her instantly diagnosed at least a skull fracture and concussion. The child looked stunned for a moment and when he realized the safety of Daddy's arms was no more, began to cry loudly.
At the same time, the sounds of approaching sirens could be heard. No doubt softer than the child's crying, but it angered the robbers all the more. They moved with greater urgency and their voices had a note of barely controlled panic. Addison saw fear in their eyes as one darted to the nearest window while the other approached the distressed boy…
