Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy or its characters.
Warning: Character death.
A/N: I couldn't get this out of my system so I had to write it down. Then I thought I might as well share it. Brilliantly beta'd by DeniseSB.
The world carries on without you
But nothing remains the same
I'll be lost without you
Until the last of days
Last of Days, A Fine Frenzy
It had been a long day. Too many complicated births, too many doctors clamoring for her attention, altogether too much. She was only 49, but sometimes she felt 100 years old after a day at the hospital. When she'd left the Oceanside Wellness Group and LA six years ago, to take the position of Head of Neonatal Medicine at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston, she'd been so excited. Now it just tired her. It was the same thing all over again but without the drive and without any real friends.
She felt so fortunate that she had her daughter. Conceived eight years ago, during an ill thought out one-night stand with Pete, Karina was Addison's unlooked for and unsurpassed joy. She lived for her. Having her own child had been everything she had longed for and hoped it would be.
"Unlooked for" was an understatement. Inconceivable—almost literally—would be more accurate! She had vacillated between just giving up on motherhood, adoption and trying to persuade a cautious Naomi to work on fertility enhancement options with her, but had never managed to reach a decision. Then, after a bad day and too many martinis, she had fallen into bed with Pete, and two months later, her . . . her miracle was confirmed.
She had not been in love with Pete and the lack of being in love was fully reciprocated by him. But she liked him. She trusted him. While she had remained in LA, he had been a part of her and Karina's life—although she had always made it clear that the life was hers and Karina's; they were the unit and he was the valued friend. Since her move to Boston, he had visited them on occasional holidays and once for a week's vacation and Karina always loved his company. But, when he left again, they easily settled back into their routine. They were happy together—a happy mother and child. This dream, at least, had worked out for her.
She pulled her car up in the driveway of her house and, as she got out, the front door opened and her daughter ran to meet her.
"Mommy!" she said. "I thought you were never coming home. Ellie's making hamburgers for dinner."
"Is that right?" Addison said, picking up her daughter and kissing her on the nose. "Then we'd better go on inside and wash up."
As they went in through the front door, Ellie, Karina's nanny, called out from the kitchen, "Hi, Dr. Montgomery. Dinner's almost ready. Can I pour you a glass of wine?"
"That would be great," Addison said, putting Karina down. The little girl ran off into the kitchen. The mail was set out as usual on the hall table, but something about it distracted her. Her hand was drawn to a medium sized, official looking envelope and, when she picked it up, she was shocked to see the imprint "Seattle Grace Hospital."
The nanny came into the hall. Seeing her employer's expression, she said, "Here's your wine, Dr. Montgomery. Is everything okay?"
"What?" Addison shook her head to clear it. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine, Ellie. Thank you." She paused. "I think I'll go sit in the den for a while. I need . . . . Can you occupy Karina for a little longer? I hate to ask, but I need to . . . I need to unwind and read the mail."
"Of course. No problem," the younger woman replied. Ellie was a lifesaver and Addison had no idea what she would do without her.
Once in the den, she settled herself in her favorite leather armchair, took a sip of her red wine and opened the envelope. She felt herself shaking as she did so.
"Don't be silly, Addison!" she admonished herself. "It's nothing. It's just some trivial bit of paperwork."
Inside the envelope was a letter printed on Seattle Grace letterhead and a second sealed envelope with her name – well, Dr. Addison Forbes Montgomery; she didn't use the Forbes any more – hand-written on it. She recognized the handwriting – she hadn't seen it in a long time now – but she recognized it; she couldn't forget it. And her heart stood still for a moment, because she knew now that this wasn't just paperwork and it wasn't trivial.
She took a huge gulp of wine and then forced herself to unfold the printed letter and read it.
March 11th, 2018
Dear Dr. Montgomery,
I regret to inform you that the Chief died one week ago today. He suffered a massive heart attack and died almost instantly, and, as far as we know, without any pain. A small, private ceremony was held in Seattle and was attended by friends and colleagues from the hospital.
Today, his assistant found a letter addressed to you in his files, with the instruction to forward it to you in the event of his death. This letter is enclosed.
I'd like to take the opportunity to apologize for the fact that nobody informed you earlier. Dr. Grey is on sabbatical in Europe and Dr. Shepherd no longer has any contact with Seattle Grace or anyone who works here. The rest of us were overwhelmed and busy—the Chief had not been sick and his death was unexpected—and ten years has passed since you were last here. I nevertheless feel that apologies are necessary for our oversight and regret that you were not given the opportunity to attend the memorial.
Please accept my and the hospital's condolences.
Yours truly,
Cristina Yang, M.D., Ph.D.
Acting Chief of Surgery, Seattle Grace Hospital
Cristina Yang's scratchy, impatient signature blurred as Addison's involuntary tears fell onto the paper. "No," she whispered. "Why did you have to go and do that? And without saying goodbye." She almost didn't want to read the second letter. Yang hadn't mentioned the Chief's name and, although she knew perfectly well who it was, if she didn't open the other letter she could pretend that it was some other Chief, somebody else entirely; and that even though she knew she was never going to see him again, at least he was still out there somewhere and still, somehow, there for her. He always had been and it was suddenly impossible to contain the loss of this in her heart.
She picked up the envelope and ran her fingers over it, hesitating. Then, in a rush, she ripped it open. As if, like ripping off a band-aid, this would make it hurt less. When she'd unfolded the letter, she closed her eyes and prepared herself before she could bring herself to read it.
September 14th, 2014
Hey Addie,
You know how this goes, right? If you're reading this, you'll know I've gone and all that shit. Forget that. Gossip may have it that I lived like a cliché—although the whole manwhore deal got really old after you—but I sure as hell don't want to die like one.
Just so you know, I'm not dying; I'm not even sick. They appointed me Chief six months ago—hey, be nice!—and it seems like all I ever do, apart from the occasional rhinoplasty, is sign off on dead patients and discuss DNRs with lawyers. So, death is on my mind a little more than is healthy. And, today, Yang lost a guy my age and it got me thinking about what might happen when it's my turn to croak.
But, like I said, right now, I'm still here. I'm writing this, right now. It'd be nice if you'd think of me that way. Because you and I both know that I was always here for you and it makes me happy to think that that's how you'll remember me.
I'm writing because I have something to tell you. Even now, I don't know whether I'm doing the right thing telling you this. It's something I've kept to myself and I've always felt kind of good about it. Hell, Derek even called me "selfless," so I must have done something good to get that kind of reaction from him.
I didn't break our bet, Add. I knew you slept with Karev and I knew you didn't want me and I wanted you to be happy. That's it. Doesn't look like much when you write it down, does it? But it was the second most important thing I ever did in my life.
If you're reading this the wrong way, right about now you're yelling and throwing stuff at the wall. I always thought you looked hot when you did that, so a little part of me hopes you misunderstood me. That would be the same part that's imagining the make-up sex we'd have after I'd made you understand.
So, here goes. No, Add. I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad. I'm not telling you to give you one more thing about your life to regret. I can't stop you doing these things, I know. But, it would be a stupid fucking waste of time, when – and, by the time you're reading this, you can take this from me – life's already too goddamn short.
I'm telling you because I want you to know, if you go through any of those times when you think nobody ever loved you—that I did. I loved you. I loved you so much that I let you go.
So, now's about the time where you'd cry and I'd kiss you and we'd go fuck in the shower, right? Now that would be a good way for you to remember me. How about this? If you're reading this, you'll know I'm fantasizing about fucking you in the shower until you can't take it any more. Well, it's more fun than the cliché, isn't it?
I guess that's it. This will have come with some god-awful, formal letter from the hospital, all about regret and condolences and I'm really sorry for that.
Don't have any regrets, Addie. I have never regretted anything I ever did with you.
Oh yeah, you know what the most important thing I did in my life was? That was falling in love with you.
Mark
Addison folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. She didn't want to get it wet with tears and she was powerless to stop herself from shedding them.
A noise behind her startled her and she looked up to see Karina standing in the doorway. "Ellie said to tell you dinner's ready," she faltered, alarmed by her mother's distress. "Why are you crying?"
"It's okay honey," Addison beckoned her over and pulled her daughter into her arms. "I just had some bad news about a friend," she said. "He may have been my best friend," she added mostly to herself.
She wiped her eyes, smiled at Karina, and let her go. "Why don't you go ahead and I'll be right behind you," she said.
When she was alone again, she got up and put Mark's letter into her desk drawer.
"Goodbye Mark," she said. She forced herself to smile. "I'm fantasizing about shower sex right now!" She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. "I think I loved you too," she whispered.