Sharp chills dash down her spine, the breeze blows her hair haphazardly across her slender shoulders and the wine glass she clasps in her hand is now half empty along with its bottle as she sloshes the fiery liquid around the glass a few times, gently presses it underneath her perfect nose, and alas takes a small sip, fading lipstick staining the outer edges of the crystal glass she collected at her wedding.

Or were they from… No, she's almost positive it was her wedding.

The alcohol is slowly but surely starting to do its much sought after job of clouding her senses. It took it long enough, she thinks, a little on the tipsy side now.

Another glass poured, she gulps down three quarters of the bitter amber wine and sets it down on the table beside her.

Pushing herself upon unsteady feet, she begins to pace, this way and that, swaying left and right. She can't remember how many glasses it's been now, and frankly, she doesn't care to keep count anymore. It doesn't matter. Halting on the edge of the steps, she lowers herself to her knees and lets a tear fall satisfyingly slowly to the soft beige sand beneath her freshly pedicured feet.

At least I still grasp a shard of pride, the thought rushes through her mind, although she's not sure why she's worried about Ruby red toes at a time like this.

A year. A damn year she has made it through here. In all honestly, she hates this god awful place. But, being who she is, who she was raised to be, Addison Adrianne Forbes Montgomery is not a damn quitter. Seattle was hell from the start, but there, she was able to adjust, though she'd never admit such a thing. To be honest, she might have even liked the rain, missed it a little now. Rain was depressing, and Addison was sick of bounding around with a faked – like most things in LA – smile on her beautifully broken face when all she truly wanted was to sit and wallow in her well understood self pity. The dreary sky and crystal clear tears that fell from the depths of the unending deep blue void easily collided with hers, and she liked that. Maybe in Seattle people didn't see her pain like they did here. In Seattle, no one cared to ask questions. No one wished to spare a moment of their own conscious heart-break to ask about another's, and Addison liked, no, missed that. She doesn't like inquiring words or prying eyes.

Another glass. Another lipstick stain, taking up residence on the opposite side of the glass.

A short rap at the door brings her out of her thoughts and she struggles to compose the tears she didn't realize had even began to gather in the corners of her blue-green eyes. She tugs at the bottom on her shirt, trying to pretend to care about wrinkles or appearance. Maybe she'd let herself go, that's another thought to ponder later. Looking through the peephole she's unsure of whether or not she should open the door, tell them to get the hell out of her front yard, and slam the door in their face, or just pretend that she's not at home. She really didn't feel like being much of an accommodating, people person lately. Everyone understood.

"Addison, damn it, I know you're home. Answer the fucking door."

It looks like she's going with the first option. She opens the door and the person on the other end looks shocked that she's in such a… mess? Is that the correct word? Because Christ, she looks as if death had hit her smack in the face. But, hadn't it?

Her arrangement didn't exactly go as planned. There wasn't any talking, not a door slamming; only uninterrupted eye contact haunted the room. Neither knew what to say, they searched for the answers in each other's eyes, but the other was just as lost. A sole tear glided down Addison's cheek and fell to mix with the plush carpet surrounding her feet before her visitor could catch it with their rough thumb. Addison looked down to the ground, and then slowly turned, eyes still focused downward, and led the way numbly to the couch. A ten thousand dollar couch she couldn't recall even sitting on until now. Life in LA, was practically pointless she'd decided at that moment. She hadn't grown, she would've moved on better if she were in Seattle. They sat in silence. Without a word Addison stood and went into the kitchen to start pulling the stronger alcohol, they were going to need it with the conversation that was about to be had.

She puts forth first a bear for him, he shakes his head, so she passes forward the brand new whiskey bottle and he nods approvingly, the corners of his mouth still pointing downward towards the carpet he grasps the bottle authoritatively, like he's letting it know it's his option how much he's taking from it, because taking control of alcohol is practically the only thing he can possibly take control of at the moment. Everything else is a downward spiral of misery for him, and most likely for her too. He watches as she takes a straight swig from her vodka bottle and grimaces, but the look on her face looks satisfied as she settles back into the couch.

Now I remember why I bought this couch, it's damn comfortable. Obviously her thoughts were beyond blurred if she was thinking about luxury furniture at a time like this.

She thanks god as she drunkenly comes to the realization that she is, finally, fully intoxicated. She doesn't feel the numbness everyone else said to have felt after consuming this much alcohol.

Perfect. I always have to be unique.

All she wants is to not feel. Feeling things means having "feelings," and all those have done for her is caused her pain. Love, hatred, loneliness, happiness, regret, loss, passion, betrayal; all of these things had gotten her into trouble at some point, and she's honestly wondering at this point how she isn't being treated for chronic depression after enduring the life she has conquered.

He takes an incredibly long drink out of his own liquor bottle, and then chases it with her own, making at face at the taste but nevertheless enjoying thoughts of the soon to be oblivion that should come in a little more time now. He feels her eyes burning into the side of his head, but he isn't about to look at her. He knows he has a problem, so does she, but that's an issue for another day; not today.

Her head slides lazily, heavily down the back of the couch until it crashes into his broad shoulder and doesn't move from its newfound position. He doesn't mind, he needs a little bit of close contact at a time like this. Right then he realizes she's been at the drinking thing much longer than he has as he spots the empty wine bottle and almost dry wine glass on the outside table. He shakes his head sadly as he looks down on the gorgeous red hair sprawled across his chest. He wishes, god he wishes he could do something, anything to help her. He'd take her pain upon himself if it meant this woman, this gorgeous, close to perfect, lovely, undeserving woman who is as close to a daughter he'd even been, could feel the happiness again that she possessed at one time or another.

"I know, Addison. I know about the last two months."

Addison gulped subconsciously and tried to act unsure of what exactly he's talking about, but then curses the alcohol as she sees his eyes still searching hers for a hint that he was supposed to continue talking. He knew exactly what had gone on, and so had she.

"Two months ago I thought I was pregnant, I was happy, and I had him. I woke up the next morning, we drove to the Wellness center, stepped out of the car and met up, hand in hand and made our way through those doors up until we reached Na-," her voice cracked and she noticed for the first time that he was wiping tears from her porcelain face, her tears. "Naomi's office."She finished."She told us we weren't pregnant, and it killed me inside. He took my hand, and I knew he wasn't only there because there was a possible baby. For once in a very long time, he was there for me. We walked out, and I recall him supporting my weight, I felt light-headed, and he whispered in my ear, 'we'll try, we'll try and we'll have a baby.' I don't think he's said 'we'll' so many times in a sentence, and then I really knew things would be alright. We'd be alright. We were in love."

"Are in love, Addison. Are in love."

"Richard, we can't still be. He's gone, and I'm, I'm here."She was gasping for air as she concluded her last sentence and Richard wrapped his muscular arms around her and pulled her in his lap in a fatherly embrace and held her while she cried.

"God damn it! I was happy!"Addison outburst loudly and shocked Richard slightly after around ten minutes of silence, and he jumped a little. "I was fucking happy!" More tears. She was working incredibly hard for just a single breath. But my god, she was going to say these words. She was going to get them out of her. "And then a month ago, the stupid stick said yes, and we cried with joy and held each other the entire night. I couldn't remember the last time he cared enough to hold me like that, he was back."A short sob escaped her mouth and she continued. "I miscarried. Three days ago. And he said, 'we'll try again.' But for fuck's sake I was so sick of us trying that I screamed at him, yelling it wasn't worth it. Richard, why the hell would I say such a thing? He wanted a kid just as much as I did, and even more I wanted him! He grabbed me and pulled me as tight as he possibly could to him and immediately it calmed me down. He had this power over me, this perfect control that was the best thing in the world to me. He was perfect, and we agreed to keep trying. He said he'd make dinner that night, two nights ago, got into his car and never came back again."Addison, who was visibly shaking was fighting hard to maintain her eye contact with Richard. "He didn't come back. At forty something years old I never thought I'd be making funeral arrangements."And nothing more would allow itself to come out of her mouth. She began hyperventilating and Richard did his absolute hardest to calm her down. Now, it was at this exact moment in time in Los Angeles, two days after complete bliss, Addison Adrianne Forbes Montgomery had truly felt what it meant to touch bottom.

"We're gathered to celebrate the life of Derek Christopher Shepherd…"

…

…

…

Richard's phone rang and identifying who the caller was he excused himself immediately and answered the phone with a rushed tone, immediately asking if she was alright.

"Richard, I'm pregnant, and my baby's father is dead. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"And more tears, and more sobs, and more deep breaths. Addison began to wonder if the heart-ache would ever disappear. Maybe, maybe people were born blessed with a life full of happiness, and maybe others were born into misery. Addison, pregnant, practically a widow considering the ex-Shepherds fell right back into husband and wife mode immediately, and all alone, in fucking sunny LA.

She decided without any thought that she was moving back to Seattle the following day.

Fin.