Disclaimer: All characters, events, settings and situations mentioned in this work are sole property of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, in constitutes fair use.
Author's Note: This is the first Grey's Anatomy multiple chapter piece I have worked on and I might actually have to later move it to the Private Practice category. I know that this might get extremely AU but I am going to try to keep it from getting too OTC. The title of the story comes from the David Singer album of the same title and the chapter titles will be the song titles (but not in the order they are in on the CD).
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Cost of Living
I Don't Mind
She slowly pulls the French door closed behind her, the caution a selfishly sincere effort to not disturb any of the still slumbering occupants in the house. She walks forward unitl she is standing at the very edge of the terrace and stares out into a sprawling green lawn generously littered with large oak trees. Her gaze skitters from left to right taking in the six back acres still wet with dew and draped with shadows that tell of the coming dawn. A warm wet ocean breeze sweeps in blowing her loose hair about, momentarily obscuring her vision.
Casually tucking her hair behind her ear then reaching to tie her robe together she starts her downward trek to the land the holds so much more than trees aged a hundred years; when she gets to the bottom step her carefully heels off her house slippers and steps bare foot onto the wet grass. Inhaling deeply she turns and begins walking toward the right end of the property – she has a specific destination in mind.
She walks directly toward a weathered and bent oak in the far right corner of the property. Memory is her guide as the tree itself rests behind a think bluster of citrus trees that have long become a forgone venture. It emerges from the earth in a sharp crude angle, creating a natural ladder and drapes daintily above the ground ten feet at its highest point. The trunk lies on large metal supports spaced every three feet or so to insure that it won't uproot. Carefully she steps forward and places her left foot on the rough trunk and pushes off the ground with her right. Standing her full height she places her left foot directly in front of her right and begins her balance beam hike, complete with arms cautiously stretched out to her sides to maintain complete stability, up to one of her fondest childhood treasures.
The tree-house looks sturdy as ever despite the obvious age and it brings comfort to her to see such an integral part of her has sustained the test of time. Ducking through the doorway she steps slowly inside, giving her entrance the reverence she feels this place deserves. Straightening to almost her full height, she walks to the center of the room and spins in a circle before folding her legs beneath her and gently collapsing into an elegant heap on the wooden floorboards. The tree-house is quintessentially simple with the exception being the unusually high ceilings – almost six feet – but why shouldn't they be, the man who so lovingly built these four walls was entirely sure his children would be the beneficiaries of his tall stature.
Her gaze wanders idly about finally resting upon the etchings carved to the right of the entrance.
Dad
Archie
Addie
'75
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"Daddy…Daddy! Archie isn't letting me have my turn with the hammer."
Looking up from the his task of securing the final wall of his children's soon to be christened tree house, Nicholas Montgomery turns to watch his seven year old daughter quickly but carefully scurry up the trunk of the old oak tree. Not having quite recovered all her confidence after a tumble taken two days prior the young girl uses a combination of feet and hands to insure she won't fall.
Eyes down cast to concentrate on her feet the small girl tumbles through the entrance. Tear bathed blue eyes dart up to father and he catches the indignation filled gaze.
"What's the matter Monkey?" Nicholas asks as her moves to take the lanky child in his arms. He pulls her in close as she burrows her head into the crook of his neck. Lovingly dropping a kiss on her sloppy pony tail he gently pushes her back to see her face.
Small hands shoot up to wipe her eyes and manage to leave a cute smudge of dirt of the crest of her right cheek in repayment.
"He told me I am too little and I didn't know how..." her dialogue interrupted briefly with a small hiccup is then capped with a plaintiff cry of, "…and then he said I was girl!" The tears start anew, splashing and tracing jagged paths down cherry tinged cheeks.
"But Daddy, you told me that even though I am girl I still get to do the fun stuff…you said I could learn to water ski like you and Archie and you said that sometimes I could even play basketball with you too as long as I wear play clothes and you are playing a gentle game."
The tears lessen as her reasoning continues, voice growing stronger in tandem with frustration.
"Oh Addie, it's okay. I will teach you to hammer and you can help me up here." The reply is lightly tinged with amusement that is thankfully overlooked by the wounded child in front of him. Scooting back over to his work area he hands the hammer to his daughter and the wraps his hand around her, guiding her movements.
Their laughter is interrupted a half hour later when an eleven year old Archer timidly steps into their alcove. A quiet but sincere apology is offered accompanied with an offer to teach his sister to hammer and water ski that summer.
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"Addison? Addie, you up there?"
The voice holds a note of incredulity. She is startled, not only because her peaceful cloud of nostalgia was shattered too abruptly but more so because of who the voice belongs to.
Swiftly shifting to her knees she leans over and peaks her head through the door. The orange of the rays lingering from the ending dawn catch her tresses as her eyes swiftly find the intruder of her space.
"Mark?! What the hell are you doing here?"