Hello, everyone! Here is a story I wrote while I was in a trip. It seems like my inspiration comes faster when I am in new places. :)
Addison is my favourite character, so I decided to write a story having her as the main character. I hope you will like it. I would like to hear your opinions, so reviews are more than welcome!
Do you believe in fate? In signs? In almost supernatural coincidences? I do not. We are surgeons. We have human lives in our hands. A mistake, no matter how small, might mean the end. When you have a heart pulsing in your hand, you are too busy to believe in miracles and other childish notions. Including magic, love and total happiness. What we believe in is what we see every day in front of our eyes: hard work, devotion, survival.
The rain was falling mercilessly on the ground, whipping the trees, the leaves, the tiny delicate flowers. The lightning bolts were tearing the dark sky and the furious sound of hungry lions was following closely. She was staring blankly at the big rain drops on the large window. "It's a good day to save lives," someone would say. But is it? All she would really do on a day like that was watching TV with a big ball of ice-cream. That's right, she would eat a ball of ice-cream. But only that one time! She was startled when her pager went off. She was wanted in the…break room? What?
While walking to said room, she heard almost everyone's pagers going off. Okay, it was serious. She started to walk faster and opened the door to the break room. To find who? Her ex-husband and the man whom she had cheated her ex-husband with having some sort of argument. Isn't this just perfect?
"Addison!" Mark finally noticed her. "Thank God you're here."
"Funny, this is what she once said about you," Derek said, fixing Mark with his eyes.
"Derek, seriously," he replied. "This is a major crisis. Dozens of people are probably dying right now and all you can do is include our personal life in this?"
"What? Did you just say 'our'? Interesting, I don't remember having anything to do with…"
"Doctors!" she interrupted.
"Yes?" they both answered.
"Firstly, Derek, Mark is right," she spoke. "Don't include your personal life in this. Second, who's dying? What's happening?"
Derek glared at her and she answered the same way. "Ferryboat accident," he replied shortly. She looked at him in disbelief. She remembered it. It had happened before. It had been painful to watch even for her. For her, who was strong and detached. Meredith… She died and came back to life. She saw her dead and then she saw her talking. Of course, everything was a metaphor. Coming back to life? Visiting the other world? Of course not. Why do people believe in such things? She didn't know. You can't touch them, you can't feel them, you can't taste them. QED, they're not real. "Again?" she asked.
"What can I say?" Mark spoke. "I guess ferryboats are not as safe as you'd think they are."
"Ferryboats are just fine," Derek slowly said, emphasizing each word.
"Doctors!" she said again.
"Yes?"
"If people are probably dying, as you say," she spoke, looking at Mark, "why are we here, arguing over the smallest things, instead of running over there to save them?"
"Two of us have to stay here with Torres, Burke and the Chief. One of us has to go," Mark explained.
"And?"
"And, I'm trying to explain Mr. Plastics here that victims with major brain damage might arrive, so I have to be here to save them."
"Are you saying I would be useless here?" Mark asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm saying that you'd be more useful out there. I haven't seen a plastic surgeon saving a life lately."
"Derek!" she interrupted. "No one would be useless, okay? Maybe you haven't seen some mere plastic surgeon saving a life, but I know and you know that Mark does that. Now, if we are over with this stupid argument, let's get going."
"So…Who goes?" Mark asked.
"I do," she answered.
It was huge. Dark and morbid and huge. Blood. Screams. Pain. A young paramedic almost bumped into her. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," she nodded. On the stretching he was holding was a woman. A girl. Seventeen, maybe eighteen years old. A corpse. Why is it happening? It shouldn't be happening. Her blonde hair was falling messily on her shoulders, covered in blood and dirt. The huge rain drops were whipping her pale face, creating a killing contrast with the already coagulated blood.
"What do we do now?"
"Save everything we can save. It has happened before, you know what to do. Be fast, there is no much time," she heard Dr. Bailey instructing her interns. And they were gone. Lost in the sea of corpses, blood and tears.
"And the history repeats itself," Miranda murmured as she stepped into the nightmare as well.
