He comes home late. His breath of scotch and regret. You ignore it though. You don't chide him about the time or that he shouldn't have been driving. You ignore all the realities because his hands are on you like they haven't been in months. He's touching you. Like he used to. His hands - sharp on your hips, cling to something long ago lost. Maybe he's remembering. Maybe the scotch did more than ease his constant stewing. Maybe, this time, he'll let go and give in to what you once had.

It feels good to be wanted. Part of you wants to cry out in need, but as good as this feels you're not ready to be that vulnerable with him. You're not ready to show him just how much he's been slowly killing you with his lingering eye. You know he's not over her, but maybe he's not over you either.

You stumble backwards as he pushes you towards the bed, lips never leaving yours. Moments later he has you on your back and stripped of all your clothes. He's on top of you, but he's still got his pants on. You don't overthink that and wrap your arms around him and let your nails dig into his shoulders just a little. You don't want him to go. He reaches for your hands, mouth still on your neck, and brings them down to your sides, holding you still. You've always been one to leave marks.

He sits up just enough to shove his pants down to his thighs. He's not naked, not willing to be, and maybe that should tell you something, but you ignore it. He's breathing in your ear and you try to let the insecurities still, focusing only on his breath and the way he's groping at your hip with such need.

He enters you. It's not slow, but it's not rough either. It's desperate. He wants this. You close your eyes in acceptance of the truth and allow him to pull your leg around his hip as he thrusts deeper. You groan at the sensation and he crashes his lips against your silencing you. This is what you've been missing. Someone who actually wants you. You've searched for his approval so hard these past few months you've stopped valuing yourself. Everything at the hospital is such a fucking show that it's good to let go and just feels safe.

He's groaning against you, increasing his speed. You try to talk to him, but he just moves to your neck and bites just hard enough to stop your words. Maybe that should have told you something, but you're not thinking about anything other than how it feels to have him this close.

He scoops you up in his arms as he increases his pace. Breathing heavily in your ear you know he's close. You're shaking with the need to come undone and trying to hold it off to make it last. He reaches down and pulls both your legs up around him, gripping roughly at your thighs. You've had this kind of sex before, but there's a fervor behind his need that you don't recognize. Maybe he's realized what you had.

You're nearly there when you hear him speak. He's trembling all over you and all you want to do is feel loved, but the next words tear the breath out of your lungs in a way that sex never could.

"Oh god, Meredith," he moans, before catching himself. Your legs flinch around him and you feel him stop briefly, catching his own mistake. He doesn't bother to address it though when you don't push him away. He doesn't bother to recognize that you're not Meredith.

You just lie there, a shell of the women you thought you were as he starts to thrust inside you. You can tell he's angry now, thrusting into you harder. Punishing you for not being her, but part of you recognizes that it's not just anger but desire that pushes him forward. It's turning him on thinking about her, maybe thinking about how you're not her, but you're here for him. He assumes you won't turn him away, you're that desperate and his desire for her mixed with his power over you spills over as you feel him come inside you, crying out her name again.

He kisses your cheek chastely. If he notices the tears he doesn't give any indication. He just rolls over and a moment later you hear him snoring.

Maybe it was the alcohol you try to reason with yourself. It doesn't excuse it, but maybe it would lessen the sting of knowing he didn't stop. He knew what he did and he kept going. He enjoyed it. Filled with self loathing she briefly wondered if it would have been different if she'd pushed him away or asked him to stop. She decided she didn't want to know. Lying there sticky and disgusted you knew you should get up and take a shower. Erase the feel of his body on yours and clean yourself up. You knew it wouldn't help though. There was so much emotion inside of you that you felt like you'd break if you even moved. It would take more than a shower to make you feel clean again.

You stayed in bed until morning, not thinking, just trying to hold off the pain. Maybe with the morning light you'd be able to face the day. By the first rays of light nothing felt better. The only thing that dragged you out of bed and into the shower was knowing that he would wake up soon. Rushing through your morning you didn't bother to pick out the perfect clothes or do your makeup. You threw on something comfy and loose, added some lip-gloss and eyeliner - just enough to ward of questions and then left.

XOXOXO

You drove to work in a daze. Changing once you got there on complete auto-pilot. Maybe the whole day would have been that way, except that Baily came to you and told you that during rounds this morning your patient, your distraction for the day, the only thing that could make you feel just a little bit sane, had requested Meredith to work with them.

You took the chart from Baily and headed straight to your office. It would do no good to argue or take it out on the other women. Hoping more than anything that the case would be simple enough to not need a lot of team interaction you scanned the folder quickly, not actually processing anything you read.

There was a brief knock on your open door and then Meredith was hesitantly stepping in said. "Dr. Shepard?" she asked, concern coating her voice. It wasn't like youto neglect patient care. Seeing how disheveled you looked she scrunched up her brow in confusion. "I was just checking..." she trailed off, finally realizing something was wrong with you. "Is there anything I get you?" she asked. You probably looked exhausted, you were exhausted, but coffee wasn't going to fix this.

You twirled your chair in her direction and looked at her with a look of defeat. "Come sit down," you said, your voice coated with sadness and you tried not to overthink the obvious worry in her eyes. She looked like she might hug you and that was the last thing you wanted.

Meredith sat on the edge of the seat across from you, ready to swoop into whatever action you needed. You wanted to hate her for it. How could she be this concerned when she was causing so much pain. Derek you thought. Meredith wasn't hurting you, even vicariously, it was him. You had to face that.

"I've never hated you Meredith," you say mater-of-factly. "But I guess, I never really forgave you either."

Meredith shook her head. "It's fine, we don't have to do this. Talk about it I mean. We're okay. I know it's been difficult and I know it's probably been hard having me around."

Your laughter surprises you. "You have no idea. I just, maybe just today, we could be us. I know we've worked together just fine before, but he's always been there in the middle. I need to not have that today. I need it to just be us."

Meredith took a breath and cocked her head with worry. "Are you alright?" she asked. Rising to her feet and then kneeling next to you with a hand on your arm. You wanted to push her away, you wanted to cry, you wanted anything, but this girl to look so fucking concerned over your feelings.

You want to lie. You start to. "I'm just really tired," you say, but then you realize that isn't as much of a lie as you planned. You are exhausted - by the games, by him, by trying so damn hard. You just want it all to stop, maybe that's why you asked her to just be normal for the day. Looking up at her you chew on the inside of your check briefly.

"It's just us," she promises, somehow telling you exactly what you need to hear. Her words quell the knot in your stomach just a little bit and that part of you that couldn't face things last night breaks. Tears fall down your cheeks and she's wrapped you up in that hug you wanted to avoid faster than you can process. "He doesn't want me," you whisper, finally admitting what you already knew.

Meredith strokes your hair with a tenderness you never would have expected. "He doesn't deserve you," she says with steely resolve. She's not judging you and she's not trying to worm her way back into his life. There's an anger in her voice that despite not wanting to admit it to yourself you know is for your benefit. "Last night, during..." you break your sentence with a sharp breath, not sure if you're ready to confess this to anyone. But that damn girl tilts your chin up to look at her and you realize that you've never been enemies after all.

He's hurt you both in ways that no one else understands. A betrayal of trust is far worse than anything you thought you'd been through. Maybe this was how she felt when she'd met you. Deciding that she owed Meredith something to make up for her part in the younger woman's pain, she hides her head against the girls shoulder and finishes. "He called out for you."

You're pulled tighter against her and before you know it she's in your lap holding you tight. It's entirely inappropriate, but you can't feel close enough to her in this moment and you puller her tighter. You can't look at her though and maybe that's why you keep feeling the need to bury your tears in her shoulder. "Even when he realized, he just kept going."

She holds you for longer than needed. Long after you've finished crying and your breathing returns to normal. She waits with you until she knows you can stand on your own once more. Brushing hair out of your face, she kisses your forehead and tells you that you matter. She tells you she sees you with her touch and you start to remember you have value of your own. "I'll take care of this," she promises, extracting herself from your grasp. You don't think to question how or what she has planned, but the bruise that you spot on Derek's jaw later that afternoon tells you all you need to know.

Before he can even come near you, she's snagged you by the arm and started asking you about the case. You've turned the corner and stop her, wanting to ask her why she did it. Why it mattered to her. She gives you a look that silences the questions and responds quietly, "Just us today Addison. Ask me again tomorrow. For now, let's just be us."

You nod in understanding. You're ready to give into what you've both agreed upon, but not before a quiet thank you. It's the most sincere thing you've ever said to her and the look on her face tells you she knows.

"It's time we start looking out for us," Meredith says and leans in closer. "You matter outside of what he thinks. You matter to me," she promises with the beginnings of a friendship offered that you think you're willing to finially accept.