Just a little twoshot I shouldn't be starting. But I hope you enjoy it anyways. It's inspired by the song "Half a Million Miles" by The Kennedys and so, for the line breaks I decided that instead of doing my normal thing, there's a lyric from the song that kind of relates to the story. Some of them make more sense than others, but whatever. Enjoy!

I own nothing.

Like a Colorado overflow down Congress Avenue…

The phone rings. Addison refuses to answer it. She's wallowing and she's allowed to wallow. The past twenty-four hours have been hell on earth. Dell and Maya and… and she's not thinking about any of it. She's wallowing, but she's not letting herself think.

The phone rings again. And again. It's insistent that she pick up. Finally she does. "What?" she bites.

"Addie?" It's the first time Callie's ever sounded even close to shaken up and immediately Addison starts freaking out.

"Callie?" she asks, even though she doesn't need it confirmed.

"I'm going to tell you something and I need you to not freak out, okay?" Callie says. That doesn't help. Addison starts freaking out. Well, after yesterday, she's paranoid and she's allowed to be.

"What's going on?" She tries to keep her voice steady—tries to keep down the terror that's rising like bile in her throat.

"Derek was shot."

"What?"

"He's going to be okay. He just… he was shot. And so were some of the new Mercy West people. And Alex. Karev, I mean. He was shot too." Addison's stomach churns, turning the terror into actual bile and she feels like she's going to throw up.

"I'm on my way," she says, already packing a small bag, not even bothering to ask how any of this happened.

"What? No, Addison, I didn't… I just wanted you to know. You don't need to-"

Addison cuts her off. "I have a bag ready, my car keys in hand, and a full tank of gas." She glances at the clock on her nightstand and does a mental calculation. "I'll be there late tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Can I stay with you?"

"Addison-"

"I'm coming," Addison declares and the lack of doubt in her voice proclaims that she is not to be toyed with.

Anyone with any sense was inside staying dry…

She rolls into Seattle just as the sun is rising on the day after tomorrow. She stopped at a rest stop to get a couple of hours of sleep, uncomfortably contorted in the passenger seat of her Lexus. Smart? Absolutely not. Necessary? Absolutely.

She likes driving. She can control things when she drives. And right now it feels like that's the only thing she can control.

She strides into the hospital, looking down to realize that she's still wearing the ratty sweatpants and v-neck t-shirt that constitute her wallowing outfit of almost two days ago, her face completely devoid of makeup. She should probably care about that, but she really doesn't right now.

It doesn't take her long to find Derek's room. She catches him when his room is empty and it doesn't take long for her to start yelling at him either. "You got yourself shot, Derek?"

"Addison?" he blinks, trying to make sure this isn't one of the side effects of one of the many painkillers he's taking. But he figures that the painkillers probably wouldn't cause pain like Addison does when she crosses to room to smack him in the chest, extra careful to avoid his bandages. "Ow!"

"You got yourself shot, Derek!" she repeats. "The one thing you promisedme that you wouldn't do and you go out and do it! No wonder we're divorced!"

"Addison," Derek says, looking down at the claw she claims as a hand digging into his arm. "You're hurting me."

"Sorry!" Addison exclaims, releasing him. "No, you know what? You deserve to get hurt, getting shot like that! What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking I wanted to get shot!" he snaps.

That brings her back to reality—the reality where Derek probably hadn't begged for a psycho to gun him down. "You're right," she whispers, looking away. "I'm sorry."

"Addison, what's wrong?" he asks, grabbing her wrist. Normally she would break down, but normally he isn't shot.

"Nothing. It's just been a long drive."

"We were married for eleven years, Addie. If you think I can't tell when you're lying…"

"Where's Meredith?" Addison asks suddenly because she's still not thinking about anything.

"What?"

"Meredith. Shouldn't she be here?"

"Oh, I don't know. Where she is, I mean."

"I'm going to find her."

"What? Addison, don't…" He trails off when Addison sends him a glare clearly meant to effectively silence him.

She strides out of the room, thankful to have something else to concentrate on.

Where Buddy's bones did lay…

It takes some searching, but she manages to find Meredith. In a supply closet. Sitting on an overturned bucket. Crying.

The thought to think about her actions doesn't occur to her. Within nanoseconds, she's in the closet, closing the door, and on the floor next to her ex-husband's girlfriend (Post-It wife?). "Meredith, are you okay?" And then she rolls her eyes subtly because what sort of okay person cries in closets?

Meredith looks up and Addison just knows. There's no scientific explanation for why she knows what happened to Meredith, everything that happened to Meredith, without Meredith telling her or even hinting. But it happens. Meredith looks up and Addison recognizes the hollowness in the eyes that betray the sudden emptiness of the body. Only Meredith's look lacks something Addison saw in the mirror the day of the abortion—guilt and self-loathing. That hasn't hit yet. "Oh Meredith," Addison sighs sympathetically, closing her eyes to blink away tears. Really? Her life can't be the only one falling apart? Everybody else's has to, too?

Addison's voice apparently triggers something in Meredith because the quiet crying crescendos into sobs. Addison just gathers the woman into her arms and tries not to join in the weeping.

Finally Meredith calms down. "Sorry," she apologizes, standing up, her voice raw.

"If you're up to it," Addison says quietly, standing and smoothing what would be her skirt if she weren't wearing sweats, "Derek really would like to see you." She sees Meredith bite her lip. "You haven't told him yet, have you? You should. He could help."

"He was shot!" Meredith exclaims, clearly not wanting to put anything else on his already wounded shoulders.

"He could still help," Addison insists.

They walk out of the supply closet and towards another door. "Where are we going?" Addison asks.

"I have to… It's my turn to sit with Alex."

They stand in the doorway of Alex Karev's hospital room. Addison looks over at his sleeping form. "Is…" She clears her throat. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah," Meredith sighs thankfully. "He lost a lot of blood, but he'll be fine."

"I'll sit with him," Addison finds her mouth volunteering without consulting her brain. "You go talk to Derek. I'll sit with him."

"No, I wouldn't ask you to-"

"Go," Addison cuts her off. "I want to. Go."

Meredith hesitantly leaves and Addison hesitantly enters the room. She sits in a chair placed near his bed but that feels awkward so she shifts to balancing precariously on the edge of the bed. Then back to the chair. Then back to the bed.

She finally sits still long enough to study his face and almost chuckles at the fact that it took him getting shot for her to see him look truly peaceful. But the deathly silence of the room paired with his deathly still slumber turns her mind to other things, things she had shoved into a little box and refused to look at until now, when the box' lid comes bursting off and everything spills out like Pandora's plagues. The first tears are bitterly opposed and wiped away before they can blaze trails down her cheeks. The ones that follow are hot and overwhelm her quickly. She cries for Derek and Meredith and the baby that she can't help but think that she might have saved. She cries for Derek in the simple pine box that he always insisted he wanted, and for Alex in the simple pine box that would probably be all his people could afford, and for Maya and her baby, who had almost died, and for Dell, who had. And she cries because she can't see a way out of any of it. Right here, right now, there is nowhere to go.

When the sun comes up next morning on the sinners and the saint…

When Alex wakes up, he expects pain and someone smiling a forced smile at him, which is his normal routine now. He does not expect to shift slightly only to find that he has no room to move because there is a redhead balanced precariously on the ledge of his bed, sound asleep. A redhead who, upon further inspection, turns out to be his old boss. He can't figure out what she's doing in his room and why she's in his bed, but he's not really about to complain. Besides, he thinks wryly, it took him getting shot to see her looking truly peaceful.

She starts to stir when nurses come to check on him. He smirks, anticipating the shock she'll get when she wakes up. Just because he's in pain doesn't mean he can't enjoy this, right?

There's one beautiful second where she looks utterly content as she stretches awake. That shifts to utterly confused (which may be more beautiful than content) and then to just plain embarrassed. "Oh, I, uh, sorry!" she exclaims, flinging herself off the bed and onto her feet. "I didn't, uh, I mean, um, sorry."

"It's fine," he laughs in as much as he's able to. She does a really good job of hiding it, but he can see her flinch at the sound of his pathetic weakling laugh.

"How are you?" she inquires quietly. "I mean, aside from being shot and all."

He shrugs. "Okay, I guess."

"I don't know what that means," she admits. Okay is so very general and she doesn't know how to interpret it.

He studies her face. "What's wrong?" he asks her.

"What?" she shoots back, putting on her poker face. "Nothing's wrong."

"You're lying."

It's a simple statement, but it makes her feel ridiculously uncomfortable. It feels like his eyes are looking right into her and she doesn't like it. "I should go," she says, turning to leave.

"Addison."

The force in his voice does what he doesn't have the strength to do physically and turns her to look at him. And for some reason, she breaks again. All of the bad of the past week comes flooding out of her and she ends up sitting back on his bed, crying into his good shoulder.

"I, uh, sorry," she apologizes when she's done blubbering. "I didn't… Sorry."

He doesn't get a chance to answer. They turn towards the door when somebody clears their throat. Turns out it's Lexie.

"I should, um…" Addison stands up and nervously smoothes her sweats.

"Mark wants another chance," Lexie blurts out, ignoring the redhead completely. "And I'm…"

"Inclined to agree?" Alex fills in the blank. Addison feels like she should get out of the room, but Lexie's in the doorway.

Utterly painful silence. Then a quiet, "Yes."

"Good," Alex nods. Both Addison and Lexie look at him like he's crazy. He shrugs as best he can.

Lexie nods stiffly, turns and flees.

"I'm sorry, Alex," Addison says quietly after a suitably awkward silence.

"Don't be," he replies.

"You were just dumped!" she exclaims without thinking about how her words might come off.

He rolls his eyes. "I've been dumped with since I told a hallucination of Izzie that I loved her." There's something about the redhead that just makes him open up.

"Oh." Addison looks a little shocked, but nobody's really sure if it's because of the dumped thing or the Izzie thing. Maybe it's a little of both.

Alex's stomach growls and reminds Addison that she hasn't eaten today. "I'm going to get some breakfast," she announces. "I haven't eaten since like five yesterday."

"And bring me some?" he coaxes.

She rolls her eyes. "Wow, Karev. That's a classy first date. I'm so surprised you were broken up with."

"You want to date me?" he asks, that smirk playing on his face.

She takes a deep breath and laughs. "That would be a definite no. But I will bring you back food if you want."

"Pudding?"

"You're not eating pudding at eight in the morning."

"Why not?"

"Because it's eight in the morning!"

"I got shot!"

"Exactly!"

"You're not making sense!"

"You're a petulant five-year-old!" Addison laughs.

"Who wants pudding!" he returns, not even bothering to fight the accusation.

"I'm not bringing you pudding, Karev. Get over it."

The rain came down like hammered gold and rendered all things new…

Addison brings back a tray with breakfast for them. And Alex chuckles when he sees that she's brought him chocolate pudding. He goes to grab the cup and she slaps his hand. "That's mine," she explains simply.

"It's eight in the morning!"

"Yeah, so?" Then she flashes him a smile and gestures with a French toast stick. "Go ahead and eat it. I got it for you."

"What are you doing here?" he asks suddenly because subtlety was never his strong suit.

"What do you mean?" she returns mildly, looking at the syrup cup instead of him.

"You're sitting in my hospital room, eating breakfast. Why?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"Addison."

"Because you got shot, okay?" she exclaims. "I'm sitting here because you got shot and I wouldn't want to be alone if I was shot and I don't want to be alone anyways. So I'm sitting here, trying to eat crappy breakfast food with you, but you're not that easy to get along with!"

"What happened?" he asks quietly. "In LA, I mean."

She exhales noisily and suddenly her mouth is relating the Pete thing and the Sam thing and the Maya thing and the Dell thing and all of the other things going on. And he just listens. Well, it's not like he's got anywhere else to be—he's kind of a captive audience.

"I'm sorry, Addison," he says when she's finished.

"Thanks," she replies stiffly.

"No, I mean... About before."

"Oh." She bites her lip. "I think we've moved past that, don't you?" She hesitates but finally asks, "Why now?"

He looks at her and gives her a half smile. "You're the first person to come in here and not look like I was shot." Her breath catches in her throat for absolutely no good reason.

Her phone buzzes and she clumsily reaches for it. "I should get this," she says with a sheepish laugh. She goes out the door, but hovers right around the doorway so he can still hear her half of the conversation.

"Hi, Sam."

"I'm in Seattle."

"I just… it was important."

"I don't think so."

"No… I think… I may be here for a little while."

"I don't know how long a little while is, Sam. If I knew specifics, I'd give you specifics."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't."

"I'll see you when I get back. Look, Sam, I have to go."

"Fine. Bye."

She reenters the room looking more tired than she left it. "You okay?" he wants to know.

"Yeah. I'm fine. It was just… It was Sam. And I don't want to deal with him right now."

"Does he know about Shepherd? I mean, doesn't he know him too?"

"No. I mean, yes, he knows him, but I didn't tell him. It's just… It's like… Seattle is mine. I mean, it's not mine. It's Derek's. But when I'm in LA, Seattle is mine. I don't know. It's stupid."

"Yeah. It is," Alex agrees with a laugh.

She glares and laughs too but stops to listen to his breathing when he starts fading. "Don't give me that look," he orders.

"What look?"

"The one that you're giving me."

"I'm not giving you any look."

"You're looking like I got shot. I'm going to make you leave if you're going to look at me like that."

"I'm not looking like you got shot. And you did get shot."

"If you're going to get all weepy, go sit with Shepherd. Just get the hell away from me. I don't want your pity."

"Alex!" she exclaims when she sees that he's dead serious. He just glares at her. She sighs in discontent. "Fine. I won't look at you like you got shot, even though you did." She rolls her eyes and plops herself down in the chair, arms crossed. "Stupid, pigheaded man," she mutters, but not so quietly that he can't hear it.

"That's more like it," he grins. She glares.

I haven't gotten the next part writeen yet, but I know exactly what's going to happen, so I'll try to write it soon. I'd love to hear thoughts!

-Juli-