"—Chief?" Miranda tentatively leaned into Richard Webber's office.

The man himself was seated behind his desk, enthralled in some paperwork, and speaking to someone authoritatively on the phone. He gave her a nod and vague gesture inward.

"Miranda! Come in, have a seat, I'll just be a minute."

Miranda had sat in the very seat she was now seated in many times before, but this time, as she silently waiting for Webber to end his telephone conversation, she felt her heart beating very clearly. When he finally did place the phone back in the holder and turn to her with his arms crossed over his chest, she swallowed thickly.

You're acting like a child. She admonished herself inwardly.

"How are you feeling, Miranda?" he asked slowly, his eyes narrowed on hers.

"I'm fine. Perfect. Never better." She assured him with a smile and a shoulder roll.

"I was told you were asleep, before, when I was looking for you. Are you fatigued?" He asked, concern showing.

To which she replied, "No more than I ever am." You probably could have phrased that better.

"Even with the baby?"

Miranda hoped the color she felt rise in her cheeks wasn't showing. "My husband helps, sir. And I sleep when I can. When you were asking for me, I wasn't slacking off, I was between cases…" Sensing her offense, Webber held up a solicitous palm.

"Miranda, you don't have to defend yourself to me. I have no doubt in your abilities. I was just asking…as a friend."

Somehow, she doubted that was it. But he probably believed it, so she just nodded and kept her mouth shut. He continued moments later.

"The reason I wanted to talk to you was something entirely different. You're aware the Keller-Butler Seminar is in New York City this weekend?"
"Yes, sir, of course! I attended last year." She affirmed, excitement blossoming in her chest. If Webber sent her again, he obviously didn't doubt her abilities. The Keller-Butler Seminar was the figurative Superbowl of medicine. She schooled her features as he spoke.

"Well, Seattle Grace always has a presence there, usually just one resident, and because of the continuing progress your team has made this past year, I was thinking this year—,"

"—Dr. Webber?" his secretary popped her curly head into the doorway.

"Yes, Jamie?"

"Dr. Meredith Grey is here, she said you called for her?"

"Oh, well, just give me a moment." Webber said with another vague hand motion.

"Yes, sir."

Miranda watched Jamie leave, wondering why the Chief was pulling her interns in for private chat sessions. When he began to speak again she returned her attention to him.

"As I was saying, I was wondering if—," he trailed off, and her excitement led her to finish for him.

"If you're wondering if I can go, even though I have a baby, let me assure you, Chief, I can! My husband doesn't work weekends so he can watch my son, it won't be a problem at all." She pledged.

"Oh, actually…actually Miranda, I was going to ask your opinion." Webber looked suddenly uncomfortable, and Miranda's stomach sank.

"…Oh?" She managed, her mouth forming the shape of the letter.

"You see, I was already thinking of sending Dr. Guthrie as Seattle Grace's representative this year…but I also decided that it would be an excellent experience for an intern, and I thought I would send one of yours."

"Oh." She replied flatly, feeling herself actually deflate, and wondering if he could see it.

"I was thinking, because of her affinity for neurosurgery and our need for the growth of that department, of Meredith Grey for the position. I wanted to know what you thought of that decision." Webber continued, obviously not very aware of her disappointment.

"Dr. Grey? She…she is very talented. She works very hard." Miranda said, because it was true. She wasn't about to let her personal feelings cloud what she said. Grey was her best intern—she had to focus on that.

"I've noticed. She puts in a lot of hours, and she does great work. And you recommend her?"

"Yes, sir." Miranda nodded emphatically, her composure returned. "Meredith Grey is a marvelous intern. She would represent us well."

"Excellent." He said with a nod, but not a smile.

"Is that all?" she asked, wanting to be out of the office more than anything.

"Uh, well, I thought maybe you could stay when I tell her, so she knows—,"

"If you don't mind sir, I think the news will be just as good coming from you. I have…patients." Miranda stood, steadily, she hoped.

"All right, I understand."

"…Chief? Can I just ask one potentially unprofessional question? Why…why didn't you want me to go again this year?"

"Well, I know you went to the Keller-Butler last year, and I was thinking of you for the position again this year, but I just…I just don't want to add to your stress right now. Do you understand?"

"I understand, sir, that you don't understand that even though I may have a child now, I'm the same doctor I was then."

"This wasn't an attack on your abilities, Miranda. I believe in you, and you would represent us well." Webber defended, his face stern.

"But I'm not going to." She stated, and when he didn't rebuke it, she simply nodded and said, "Okay."

"Wait! Miranda, wait." Webber said, just as she reached the door. She paused, and turned obediently, her face blank.

"Go to the Keller-Butler."

"With all due respect, I don't want this position, sir, out of pity."

"You aren't getting it as one. Seattle Grace would be lucky to have someone like you representing us." He said sincerely.

"Thank you, sir. You won't be disappointed."

"All right." He turned to his intercom, "Jamie, send Dr. Grey in."


"You look like a woman in need of some juju."

"I don't need juju." Addison replied, not moving any body part except her lips. "I need the power of invisibility."

"Well, until I conquer molecular astrophysics, you'll have to settle for cocoa." Mark Sloane replied, tapping her shoulder and slowly swirling the paper cup, letting the teasing aroma of sugar and chocolate draw her head up from its cradle in her arms, which were folded over a massive medical journal.

"It's Starbucks!" she said after a moment, with a horrible sneer.

"How the hell did you know? I specifically put it in an unmarked cup!"

"I can smell the commercialism."

"Oh, well, in that case…" he made a motion to withdraw the offer, but her hand darted out and grabbed it.

"Thanks. Really. I guess I'll sell out, for the sake of the woman who's C-section I'm performing in…what time is it?"
"Six." He replied, lazily tossing his body onto the couch across from the desk Addison occupied.

"…thirty minutes." She said with a glower. She tipped her head back and let the steamy cocoa fill her almost painfully, blazing a scorching path down to her abdomen.

"Slow down, there, Killer. That stuff is scalding." Mark remarked.

"I need a jolt, or something."

"I'd go with 'or something.' What's wrong, Addie?" Mark asked, leaning forward.

"Nothing." Everything. Even though it was Mark, her friend, and in the doctor's lounge they were out from the danger of prying ears, she just wasn't ready to talk. Not yet.

"You haven't been you for a couple weeks now." He observed, keeping his tone easy. But she wasn't fooled. People often thought he was callous—and he was. But it was almost part of his way of making you open up, by making whatever "it" was seem almost inconsequential. She marveled at it still, even after knowing him for more than a decade.

"It's just been a stressful few weeks. Nothing else. It'll pass." She said, picking up a page of the journal and flipping it, hoping she sounded dismissive.

"If you say so. Want to get drunk tonight?" he asked in the same breath.

"Uh, no." she rolled her eyes, but a smile escaped.

"All right, fine. Condemn me to the shameful life of a lone boozehound." He feigned dismal lament as he leaned back on the couch.

"I would, except I know you've never been ashamed or alone for very long." She returned sassily.

"Touché."

A few blessed moments of silence passed while Addison regrouped.

"I should make sure my patient is prepped. I have a single intern to help me juggle the largest neonatal department on the East coast, and half the time, I don't think she's listening when I talk. All she does is ask questions." She said with a scowl. "I give her an answer, and then she scribbles meaningfully in her notebook, and asks the same question five minutes later! She's either a human sieve or just thinks she already knows everything." Her voice got edgier and edgier, and Mark raised his eyebrows as he stood.

"Then, she questions me in surgery. 'That's not the way I saw it done in this class with this teacher when I was in med school.' God, can you imagine the nerve?" she was flushing red a bit, and as she slung her bag over her shoulder and opened the door to leave, Mark followed.

"I'll walk you. Protect you from any nagging, know-it-all interns…and protect them from you." He added the last bit under his breath. Addison heard it, and gave him a cursory glare.

"I don't need a babysitter." She snapped, suddenly very irritated with him.

"I'm not saying you do. I'm saying I enjoy your pleasant company enough."

She was about to say something equally sarcastic as they got to the nurse's station and she grabbed a chart when one of the receptionists quickly approached the two of them from behind the counter.

"Dr. Shepherd! I've been looking for you!" the young woman, who Addison identified as Holly Carlisle and Mark identified as The Girl from Last Year's Christmas Party.

"What is it, Holly?" Addison asked, while Mark pretended to be very fascinated by his cocoa. It didn't matter; Holly was taking the high road and pretending he didn't exist.

"Well, um…" Holly walked around the counter to their side, and by the hand she had Sadie.

Addison's face twisted in confusion.

"Sadie, honey, what are you doing here? Where's your father?"

"I don't know." The little girl said quietly. Addison nodded at Holly and took Sadie's hand.

"Honey, did he pick you up from school?" Addison asked, but as she looked at her daughter, still in uniform with her backpack on her back, she could have guessed at the answer.

"No, he didn't." Sadie said, even softer, obviously trying not to cry.

"What…what happened?" Addison asked gently, pulling her daughter closer so she could put her hands on the sides of her face.

"I don't know, Mom. Dad said he was going to pick me up and he didn't." She finally let a tear slide from her eye, but it didn't fall, only clung to her lash. Addison grabbed a tissue to swipe at it, and as if on cue, Derek emerged from a nearby exam room. Through clenched teeth, Addison nearly growled his name, "Derek!"

Of course, he looked up from his chart in a flourish of well-manicured hair and blue eyes, and smiled at his wife.

"Hey, Addie." He greeted easily. She straightened, but held onto Sadie's hand. Derek looked from his wife to his daughter and then back again to evaluate their expressions, upon which he realized he was in trouble, somehow.

"What's wrong?" he asked slowly. Mark made a swift move towards Sadie.

"Hey, Peanut, uh, why don't we get you something awful to eat to ruin your dinner?" he asked gently, delicately taking the little girl's tiny hand in his own. She sniffled a bit, but shook her head.

"I'm not hungry."

"Then I'll just give you an introductory lesson on plastic surgery. Your mom or dad ever show you a Sagittal Saw?"

This peaked her curiosity. "No."

"Well, it's a lucky thing you have me, kid."

With that and a crooked smile, he tugged on her hand and led her away as Derek and Addison stood toe-to-toe at the nurse's station.

"You forgot?" Addison hissed at him.

"No, of course I didn't forget! I called you and left a message!" he countered. She snorted.

"Of course you did. You called and left it and never gave it a second thought. Just like everything else, outside of the operating room, anyway." she snapped, suddenly lightheaded. Derek scanned the room around them.

"Addison, calm down. We're not having this conversation here."

"Fine." She spun on her heel and strode angrily back into the lounge, while Derek followed close behind.

But as soon as the door closed behind Derek, her anger had completely evaporated

By the time he made it over to where she was leaning against the desk, she was in tears.

"Whoa, Addison, what is this?" he asked softly, gently placing his hands on her hips and turning her slowly to face him.

"Derek did you see how upset she was?" Addison demanded as tears glittering on her skin.

"Yes, and I felt awful, and we'll make it up to her. We already are, a little bit. Didn't you hear? She's playing with Mark's saws!" he teased softly, coaxing a small, brief smile.

She was too tired to support the flames of her temper.

"Oh, Derek. It's not just that. I mean, it is. But…"

"But what?"

"But…isn't this familiar?" she demanded gesturing around them. Derek raised his eyebrows and looked around the lounge.

"Uh, if you could be just a little more specific..."

"This." She repeated the motion. "Us, doing this kind of thing. Not just to Sadie, but to each other. Isn't this familiar at all to you?"

Derek, still with his hands on her hips, pulled her closer so that their noses were practically touching.

"No, Addison. I know what you're saying and no. We're not back at that place—we won't be. Don't even think it." He informed her gravely. "We've worked on so much, we've come so far, and we're never going to be back there." She nodded slowly.

"I know. I do. I know. But I just…I'm just…" She wanted to tell him, but she didn't know the words she wanted, the words she needed.

"What? What are you? What's going on that you're not telling me?" He moved his hands from her hips to the sides of her face, framing it and forcing her to look at him.

"Nothing! I'm not…I'm not not telling you anything. I'm just…I'm tired."

He nodded, running his thumb along her jaw.

"Okay, so, maybe you should take a day or two off. It's been a rough couple of weeks."

"Not, it's not the I-just-need-a-nap tired, Derek. It's like my body is just worn out. I'm…worn out."

"Do you want to talk to someone?" he asked, worry filling his eyes.

"No, no. I don't think it's anything like that. I just…" she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. With each moment that passed that she didn't speak, the concern that blossomed in his eyes and mapped across his face spread, and she suddenly felt foolish.

"It's nothing. I can't…it's nothing." She finished softly.

He pulled her into a hug, and when her face was securely buried in the crook between his shoulder and head, she let the tears fall.

"Whenever you can tell me, Addie, I'll be here." He whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

And that was why she couldn't tell him. Not yet.


"New York City? With Bailey?" Izzie was practically bouncing with excitement as she gnawed on an icing-drenched granola bar with the resolve of a woodland creature, a graceful posture she would only dare to display in the company of her best friends.

"Not vacation, Izzie, work. A medical seminar." She corrected with a chuckle, carefully removing her bulging Greek wrap from its flimsy container and examining it for the best point of entry.

"Not just a medical seminar! Keller-Butler is not just a medical seminar. It's the freaking Oscars of medical seminars." Cristina managed, barely, over a mouthful of hot dog.

"I'll bring you back a tee shirt." Meredith smirked at her.

"Gee, thanks." Cristina replied, dousing the remaining quarter of her hotdog with mustard.

"Do you think, like, famous people will be there?" Izzie asked, moving from the granola bar to a peach.

"Oh, yeah. I think I heard someone say George Clooney likes to make an appearance." Meredith teased, only to be surprised when Izzie's eyes widened and she asked, "Really?"

"Yes, because since he's a doctor on television they figure that counts for something." Cristina said with an eye roll as she took two pulls from the straw in her soda.

"Wait, you were kidding, weren't you?"

"Yes!" they both exclaimed simultaneously. Izzie scowled at them and went back to working on the peach.

"The two of you think you're so funny."she muttered.

"Are you nervous? About like…being with Bailey? All the time?" Cristina asked.

"As opposed to now, when I don't see her every day?" Meredith countered with a shrug.

"Oh. Right."

"When do you leave?" Izzie asked brightly as she disrobed a banana.

"Tomorrow afternoon. There's apparently some social gatherings beforehand—Chief says they're a good way for me to make connections." Meredith settled on the Southwest corner of her wrap was the least volatile spot to begin eating, but was proven incorrect in that assessment after she took a bite and a cascade of black olives rushed onto her plate.

"That's so cool—Chief, giving you advice, sending you on fancy transcontinental trips…I guess I should be jealous." Izzie mused, plucking chunks of her banana off and popping them in her mouth.

"We should all be jealous. Hell, there are probably attendings here who are jealous." Cristina remarked, finally finished with the hot dog and leaning back on her chair.

"You guys, it's not a big deal." Meredith assured them in between bites.

"Just the fact that you say that deems you as unworthy." Cristina said with disdain.

"Unworthy or no, she has bags to pack. Dr. Grey, after you finish the labs for the Cullen case, go home. You've been here almost 36 hours, our plane leaves at 8 am tomorrow, and I want you more than just coherent for the events." Miranda demanded, seemingly materializing spontaneously from nowhere and startling Izzie so she choked on her banana.

"I thought Chief had us on an afternoon flight?" Meredith asked, bewildered, hands and mouth full of tomatoes, olives, feta cheese, and hummus.

"Afternoon flights are for lazy people, Grey, undedicated people. We are not lazy or undedicated, are we?" Miranda asked pointedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Right." Meredith affirmed, swiping at some feta on her chin.

"This is a learning experience, not a cocktail party."

"Right." Swipe. More feta.

"Good. Then 8 am it is." As quickly as she appeared, Miranda was gone.

"Right. Yes. Great." Meredith murmured.

The three women exchanged shocked glances before Cristina said,

"Have fun with that at 10,000 feet."


I don't know how I feel about this chapter. It serves mostly, I guess, to draw connections and set the mood better. Eh. More exciting stuff is to come.

I refuse to write Mark according to canon. I don't like Shonda's Mark. I told her she could borrow mine…

Some Addek angst here, but only moderate. It's going to get worse before it gets better, but it will get better. Because fluff is fun, especially Addek fluff.

Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Review if you'd like. Stay tuned!