Prelude
Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can't move.
Awake, but cannot open my eyes.
And the weight is crushing down on my lungs, I know I can't breathe.
And hope someone will save me this time.
Three days of concocting half-assed excuses to explain Pete's absence has put Addison on edge. "Look, you're missing acupuncture," she finally snaps to one irritated patient. "Go spend the money on another shot of Botox and let me get back to performing actual medicine."
"Dr. Montgomery!" Sam's voice, hurried and anxious, pipes up behind her shoulder, reminding Addison that now is not the time for total free-fall. She can't just tear everything down; it's not her practice (except it is, which is worse). "Can I borrow you for a second? Medical emergency," he explains in an aside to the patient now staring daggers at the two of them, "Thanks for choosing Oceanside, come back again soon."
Addison lets Sam guide her to her office, one hand keeping a firm grip on her elbow. Once inside, she slumps into her chair and admits defeat. "We need Dell back at the desk."
"Not enough patients for him to get the hours he needs," Sam reminds her, parroting the same speech the blonde guiltily delivered to them days before. "Plus, he has Betsey now."
"He has Betsey, you have Maya, I have headache. This is a business Sam. People shouldn't be able to just walk away in a crisis, and expect their jobs to still be there when everything stabilizes."
Her phone rings and she picks up instantly, her name slipping out of her lips, clipped and professional. "Addison Montgomery."
"Addison."
Noah's voice, even through the line, is sensual and calming all in one breath. Her heart stops, her lips tingle, and she drops the phone back down on the receiver, avoiding Sam's gaze. Seven calls in as many days. His son is a week old.
"I won't yell at patients anymore."
"We need back up, Addison. You and I are good but we can't hold this place together on our own. Go stabilize Pete."
-o-
Pete's house is smaller, more compact then she ever pictures. Fleetingly, Addison wonders if his wife ever lived here with him, if the bed where he's currently sprawled is the same bed where their unhappy wedding night took place. Pete doesn't look up when she wanders in his unlocked door. Bottles of vodka and scotch are strewn about the place, but he's alive.
"What do you want Addison?"
"I scared away one of your regulars today. Mrs. Benson," she elaborates when he doesn't response. "She wanted to know when you'd be back at work and I snapped at her, I'm sorry."
Her eyebrows shoot up as Pete silently lights a cigarette and inhales like an expert.
"Do you have any idea what I should have told her?"
"No." His smoke hits her like a slap, and Addison realizes she's really at a loss here. When it comes to Pete she's always been able to listen, to try and guide him to a better place, better decisions, to the steps it takes to be a better man. But he's not talking and she has no idea how hard to push, so she goes for balls-out honesty/
"We need you back, Pete. Sam and I need you to come back. You don't even have to work or see patients if you don't want to but we need you there. I know, I know how sad you are and I hate to ask but –"
"I'm not," his voice cracks for a second before falling back to monotone. "I'm not sad. I feel… broken. I'm broken."
It's a meaningless word, an excuse to do nothing when something has to be done. She won't accept it. "We're all broken."
"No." Pete looks at her for the first time and behind the drunken haze there's real anger there, enough so that Addison knows to brace herself for what's coming. "No, you broke yourself. I don't care about the practice and I don't care if you need me. I'm trying to fix what was done to me. It's not my problem if you can't live with what you did to yourself."
-o-
That night Pete screws Addison in his dreams. They're in the hospital stairwell and he's kissing her just like the first time. Only now they don't stop at kissing and he's not trying to put her back together, he's trying to help himself. He has her pressed up against the wall and he's soaking in every moan, every breath, every thrust and it's not until they're finished and she's unwrapped her legs from around his waist that he realizes she's still crying.
-o-
"Addison."
Eight days, the eighth call and she doesn't say anything but she doesn't hang up this time. She feels him waiting for the inevitable click and when it doesn't come he lets out a deep sigh.
"Thank you. For not hanging up. I miss you. And… I need you."
In the background, she hears a baby, his child, start to cry. "Stop. Calling. Me," Addison spits out before slamming the phone down.