Chapter 1: Autopilot
It was 4:30 am when Addison Montgomery-Shepherd finally reached the parking area. She was barely awake - after having completed her shift, she had almost been sitting in her car when the vibrations of her pager had forced her into the white, desinfected hell of Seattle Grace Hospital again. Seven hours and the death of the preemie who's life she had been fighting for all night later, Addison was on autopilot. It was always hard to compartmentalize death, and although she knew she was good at her job - not only good, but the best! - she could feel tingles of fear and self-doubt up her spine. Returning to an empty apartment would not make things better, but Addison didn't have another place to return to.
She had given up her life in Manhattan because she had wanted to start a new one in Seattle - a new life, a new beginning with Derek, but things hadn't worked off the way she had imagined everything - did they ever? Yeah, he hadn't signed the divorce papers, and obviously this whateverthishadevenbeen-relationship with Meredith was over, but nevertheless, Addison was not going to spend the night with him in his trailer, but in the empty, uncomfortable apartment she refused to call "home".
Addison sighed. At least she would have the opportunity to sleep without having to fight for space or her blanket! She forced herself to make the best of it, but deep inside, she knew she would trade more than only a bed cover for the feeling of being loved or even accepted - not only as a neonatal surgeon but also as a person.
In nights like this one, where she had lost her tiny patient and was about to return to a place nobody was waiting for her, both seemed too far away...
Speaking of being far away: Obviously Addison was not on autopilot at all! Autopilot means just switching your emotions off and getting were you wanted to get even without thinking. Considering the fact that the car she had been walking to did not only turn out to have the wrong color, but also to be the wrong model, she was obviously on anti-autopilot - just incredibly tired and depressed, too lost in her thoughts to notice where she was even going.
Sighing again, she pressed the small button on her flip key, hoping to see the light signal of her real car nearby. Finding out she had been walking into the wrong direction seemed to be the last thing she needed that night...
But as if the past hours hadn't been enough yet, reality somehow felt the need to show her what this last thing needed really was...