CHAPTER TWO

Sam wakes up with a sore ass, a splitting headache, and a very pointy heel repeatedly poking into his leg. He cracks his eyes open to find Addison staring down at him and offering out a hand that he grasps shakily before struggling to his feet. "What time is it?"

"A little after six. Let's go inside, I'll put on a pot of coffee," she says turning to unlock the front door. "While we're waiting maybe you can tell me why you fell asleep on my porch."

After collapsing on the couch, Sam inspects Addison as she flits around her kitchen, digging through cabinets for cream and sugar. She's alive, which is a plus, and seems to be moving about without the burden of a hangover. Her outfit isn't the same one she wore to the office yesterday, but a cocktail dress and heels at this hour doesn't exactly scream early morning jog. Addison hands him a steaming mug that he gulps down gratefully, before plopping down next to him. "So…?"

"So you never came home," he begins, somewhat defensively. She's looking at him like he's crazy, like there wasn't a time when all five of them, her and Naomi, him, Mark and Derek, didn't spend every second of every day looking out for each other. "And you didn't pick up your phone so I got worried and I can't sleep when I'm worried. So then I started to think maybe you did come home and I just missed it, so I knocked on your door but no one answered and by that time it was so late I figured you must be getting back soon so I waited and then I…" he trails off lamely, "fell asleep. I guess. Okay, your turn."

Addison blinks, a little shell-shocked. "My turn?"

"I told you why I was at your house, now you tell me why you weren't."

"Oh, well, Mrs. Lewis next door never turned of her car headlights, so I decided to go over there and fall asleep on the trunk."

Sam shoots her his best authoritative glare. Honestly, it's easier trying to get Maya to spill on why she feels the need to wear lipstick to ninth grade. "Addison. – "

"Sam, relax," she laughs. "Surgery ran late so I just spent the night at the hospital."

"No you didn't."

"I couldn't sleep so I went for a drive."

"No you didn't!"

"Oh my god," Addison groans and buries her face in a throw pillows leaving him with only a mass of red curls to roll his eyes at. "Sam, what does it matter?" she argues, her words muffles and her tone exasperated. "I wasn't home, and now I am. I'm home and I'm fine, so can we please just leave it at that?"

He shouldn't leave it at that, obviously. Addison's grieving and he's just sitting by watching her fall into herself one day at a time. He should push her, but he's not going to and Sam hates himself a little bit for that, hates that it only took one failed miracle for them all to lose their fight. "You're fine?"

She lifts her head. "I'm fine."

"Okay then," Sam states flatly, patting her knee before draining the last of the coffee and standing up. "I should go, I need to shower and eat before work."

He turns to look at her one more time before heading into the foyer. With no make-up on her face and her knees curled up to her chest, Addison looks exactly like the girl he randomly grabbed a seat next to on his first day of med school, back when they were both barely adults but already scared shitless. It's enough to push him towards one last parting shot. "Addison?"

"Mmm?"

"You know I can smell cologne on you, right?"

There's a short moment of silence where she refuses to meet his gaze. "I know," Addison replies as she grabs her shoes and heads for the staircase. "I'll see you at the practice Sam. Make sure the door shuts behind you."

-o-

It's been a particularly bad morning for Naomi. After hours of restless sleep, she dragged herself out of bed only to trip over her daughter's backpack, spill juice on her toast and eggs, and make it to the office just in time to plow headlong into Violet who, due to a unexpected bout of morning sickness, was bolting to the bathroom. Doing her best to shake it all off, Naomi makes her way into the kitchen where she finds Pete crouched over the counter, glaring into his coffee as if it too may possibly be the father of Violet's unborn child.

"Morning," she tosses out, patting Pete's shoulder on her way to the fridge. "You look about as good as I feel."

"Laboring moms love Pete," is his muttered response.

"Excuse me?"

"Apparently though," he continues on, "I'm completely unneeded for everything leading up to that point. And actually I'm pretty sure Violet thinks holistic medicine is bullshit so she probably won't want my help the day of the birth either."

"You're angry," Naomi observes.

"I am." Pete heaves a sigh of defeat and runs his hand over his face. "Tell me the truth, am I being like… a complete asshole about this whole thing?"

"Well like I said," Naomi takes a seat next to him and tries her best not to finish her sentence with 'this wouldn't be good for the practice', "you're angry. But that doesn't make you a bad person."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious! If you think about it," she pauses, "you actually have pretty good cause to be."

"But don't you think that – "

"I mean she's the one shutting you out. She's the one who refuses to tell you what she's thinking or feeling or doing. And that's not fair because you're just as involved as she is! This affects your life too, you know?"

Pete blinks at her. "Uh, Naomi?"

"Of course it does! Doesn't she realize that you're just as scared and lonely as she is? Only you're smart enough to know that you can't just ignore all your problems and sink into denial and hope that everything just magically fixes itself! Just because she refuses to grow up and deal with this like an adult, like a friend more importantly, that doesn't mean that you should just…set your own feelings inside and spend all your time looking after her."

"She's pregnant, isn't that exactly what I'm supposed to do?"

"What are you talking about? Addison isn't pregnant." Naomi snaps; a split second later, after taking in Pete's blank expression, her entire tirade comes rushing back to her and she realizes that she desperately needs to start getting some more sleep. And possibly therapy. Embarrassed, Naomi mutters an apology and starts to get up from the table but stops when she feels Pete's hand on her arm.

"Let's make a deal," he smiles up at her. "I'll try to get through to my crazy if you'll try to get through to yours."

Crappy morning aside, Naomi feels herself smiling back. "Deal."

-o-

After a day filled with back-to-back routine check-ups and deliveries, little to no personal contact with the rest of her co-workers, and a few heated flashbacks to the night before (not to mention an entirely new elevator fantasy; it had been awhile so screw it, she's entitled), Addison is more than ready to head on home and curl up with a bottle of wine. She's speeding through the last of her paperwork when her office door opens and Naomi steps into the room. "Hey Addie. You busy?"

"Uh, no, just finishing up some stuff. Come on in."

"Thanks," Naomi settles into the chair across from her. "So how was your day?"

"Fine. Great! How was yours?"

"Good. Long but you know, good. "

"Good." A silence settles between the pair, a distinct lack of words that Addison formally equated only to uncomfortable first dates and the last few months of her marriage. She frantically racks her Ivy League educated brain and tries to remember what she used to talk to her best friend about. Besides sex. And medicine. And family. "I love your shoes! When did you get – "

"Addison, we should talk," Naomi cuts her off. "Do you want to go grab a drink? I just think we really need to – "

The desk phone starting to ring interrupts Naomi's attempt at mature, honest conversation. As Addison's hand snaps out to grab the receiver, she silently prays that her karma from hoping for an emergent medical situation won't be too catastrophic. "Addison Montgomery," she answers, shooting an apologetic look in Naomi's direction.

"Hey Monty. Sorry to have to reach you at work, but you forgot to leave your home number before you snuck out this morning."

God dammit.