Callie stared at them. The two lines that made her life's shattering clatter about in her ears. She leaned back, stressed beyond any notion of breathing, and thought of George. Then she did all she could do. She ran. Just like a normal person, she ran. But this time, she had a destination. Her hands, sweaty and shaking, grasped around the phone like it was a lifesaving object. It basically was.
"Addison?" she breathed. "Something's happened."
"What?"
Addison, recognizing the beyond-stressed tone that weighed Callie's voice, became urgent. Addison's weary body tightened.
"You said you wouldn't be my friend." Sobs encrusted her words.
"Oh my god. You're pregnant."
- - -
"What's wrong?"
Haley, Danni, and Kelsey had morphed into one person: Dr. MPD. Derek had completely given up on decidedly choosing which personality she was currently processing, and he had just named her "Dr. MPD." She was fond of the name. Now, if you'd like to know, it was Kelsey.
"Meredith and I broke up."
"Good. Now you two can feel missing."
"I guess."
Derek's breath wavered over pressure and sadness. All Dr. MPD did was grab his busy hands and pull them close to her.
"Stop working. Lie with me for a while," she pleaded, her eyes proceeding his, wandering about with his beautiful pupils. Derek gladly did so, tumbling into bed next to his new best friend. His arms wrapped around her average-sized body.
"I wanted to be an intern. Like those people that come and go in here sometimes."
Derek's distraction caught her off-guard and she just watched him for a while, unblinking. After the dragging silence, she sighed.
"Derek, Meredith is perfect for you. Meredith is the love of your life. But right now, she's a resident. Right now, you need a break. Right now, she's crying. Right now, you're unfocused. But soon – when it's not right now – you'll be back in her arms and you'll know missing. Missing will be your long-lost friend, because you'll feel Meredith again. But right now, you can't. Right now, Meredith is lost to you."
"Lost?" spluttered Derek.
"She's a resident. She's growing up. She's not whining. You're sea-sawing. Both of you together. But soon, it'll be fine. Ok? So breath. Just breath."
A moist silence heated the air. Not a lover's silence, but a silence full of thought. Dr. MPD and Derek oftentimes felt these.
"What kind of doctor?"
He ruffled his fingers through her hair.
"A plastic surgeon. I always thought that that's better. People pay for the pain they get, they know what's coming in for them. I don't like to see people who are forced into such a dark, dark world of a hospital and they're not ready. I don't want my patient to bleed all over me."
"I see. That's smart of you."
"Are you glad you're you and not … uh … who's the plastic surgeon? Mark?"
"Yea. And I'm glad."
"Good."
- - -
"We need lives, Cristina."
"This is our life."
"Staring? Staring across the elevators is our life? What's so fantastic about this? Why are we here?"
"I'll think of something good, Meredith …"
"Cristina. Long ago – how long ago? – I made a pact with George. I told him that I was done with relationships at work; that I had a career to think about. Now it's more. Now I've got my career and I've got my life and I've got my dead stepmother and my insane father. We need to get away. We need to stop staring. We're not like that.
- - -
Callie felt the emotional agony that passed between Callie and Addison before Addison burst into gasp-y sobs, on Callie's undeniably horrible stage.
"Oh, Cal!" she cried, between large breaths. Callie slipped next to Addison in the bed and let her tears leak and mingle with Addison's, creating a large puddle on Addison's mattress already. They weren't even five minutes into the meeting.
"Why's George such an ass?" asked Callie. "Why's Izzie Stevens here? Why the hell did I not know?"
None of these questions were answerable so Addison kept silent, pretending she couldn't talk between her sobs. She didn't tell Callie that her sobs were partly for herself; for her aching, tired self that belonged to a brain tumor. The brain tumor didn't belong to her. She belonged to the brain tumor. She told Callie so after a slow and steady silence and Callie turned over.
"What's it with Seattle Grace? It's so … dramatic. It's so unnecessarily dramatic that I got used to it."
"What the hell is with life."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. It was the statement that Addison thought philosophers should ponder, the question everybody should ask themselves before they went to sleep at night or after a particularly nasty divorce.
What the hell is with life?
- - -
After a long hour's worth of talking, Addison and Callie's hand-in-hand sobs had subsided and were replaced by the emotion drooling onto their conversation now; it was quiet and partly mumbled.
"Samuel's gone."
"What?"
Addison was suddenly alert through the pangs of pain that her head protruded throughout her body. She cringed after a moment of sitting up and fell back into the covers with a defiant whack.
"He decided that he wouldn't be a good surgeon."
"He would have been!" fought Addison as if she had any control over it. "He was brilliant. He was the best. He was …"
"Special? Yea. Samuel was special. Samuel was Georgie. Samuel's running away from the interns' drama."
"Who cares? Why?"
Addison couldn't cry anymore. She couldn't cry and let her feelings run free and wild, trickling through the mattresses' already-damp covers. Instead, she lay down, crestfallen and refused to let her muscles move the slightest bit. Instead, she lay still and let her eyes glue to the ceiling.
"Why?"
"What the hell is with life?"
- - -
"I've told so many men I loved them. Denny – George – Alex. I can't have loved all of them. I can't have … felt something as strong as love for all of them. Can I? Can anybody?"
Izzie shifted on the carpet, leaning herself against the wall. Her eyes fluttered shut and her eyelids reminded Meredith of two neutral-colored butterfly wings, closing together beautifully.
"Nobody can love so many people."
"I'm going to count off the men I can't have really loved. Alex."
"He's an ass. He's an ass to everybody."
"Yea. I don't know about George! Why can't I know, Meredith?" Izzie's eyes became red-rimmed, like a snake's, with the unshed tears that begged, on their knees crying "with a cherry on top." But instead, they rested uncomfortably on the top of her eyes, watering it up there and making Izzie shift again. She couldn't take all the uncomfortable ness blended with alcohol and Meredith's extreme drunkness. But Izzie didn't stand up. Instead, she sprayed a questioning glance at Meredith.
"Because God doesn't want you to know."
"Maybe there's not a god."
"Where's Optimistic Izzie?"
"She's taking a vacation."
- - -
Alex breathed a weary, half-digested breath and flopped back on the bed. He heard Izzie and Meredith's voice strong and clear. Feeling half-disgruntled from the two beers he'd had at Joe's, he listened. His ears perked in intentness as he heard Meredith declaring him "an ass."
Was he an ass? Was that why he couldn't be with Ava? Was that why Addison "kind of hated" him? Oh, right. He remembered with a little light bulb's flash Addison was wasting away in a hospital bed right now, probably crying and having headaches.
It was like everybody in Seattle Grace loved somebody. Or "loved" somebody. Maybe they were all needy, self-absorbed brats who thought they could get anything they wanted. As Alex mused over this thought, he smiled. But the smile was soon eaten by a large frown, coexisting with his face's crumpled look.
"I can't handle this," he whispered to no one in particular.
"Why not?"
Meredith's hip bumped against the door's frame.
"Leave."
"What can't you handle? And why?"
"You're drunk, Meredith. Leave. IZZIE!"
Izzie collected herself, sprawled and drunk, from the ground.
"What?"
"Get Meredith out."
Izzie sloppily led Meredith out. With three drunk people in one house, anything could happen. Luckily, it wasn't happening.
- - -
Derek smiled down at Dr. MPD
"Dr. MPD?" he said slowly, cautiously rounding his tongue around the words.
"What?"
"You're good to go."
Dr. MPD stood still for a second, her face immediately crawling from one intense emotion – flying happiness – to crestfallen and shocked. "Why?" she choked. "What? To leave? Here? Leave you? I … can't. I … no! Why? What?" She soon fell into the black pit Seattle Grace knew too well – crying.
"Oh … Dr. MPD …" Derek sat himself down next to her, forcing his arm's limbs to wrap around her shoulders. It was anything but comforting; in fact, it was twitchy, clingy, and slightly obnoxious. It was too tight yet too loose. Dr. MPD proved inconsolable, her shoulders rocking like a boat at a sea-storm and tears creating oceans on the hospital bed.
"How can I leave? I've got an amputated leg. I can … talk to you. You get me. Nobody gets me! Nobody … you … this is more home than home."
Jackie, who was standing at the doorway, leaned her head against the wall out of sympathy. All Derek could do was comfort with whispers of "shh" and "Dr. MPD … it'll be fine …"
- - -
Addison had undergone another surgery. Her head was hell and Diane was taking care of her, mixing two medicines together to create a stronger one. Addison didn't even try talking to Diane. Well, at least for the first few minutes. Then …
"You shouldn't sleep with engaged people."
"Huh?"
"I know. I know about you and Janie. And it's wrong. Janie's engaged. Josh loves her. Janie loves Josh."
"Janie loves me! Her life's a mess; she said 'yes' to somebody she doesn't love!"
"Diane. Listen to me. Listen to me. Her life is a mess, but it's because she's cheating on her fiancé. It's because you're in her life; and whether she loves you or not, whether she said 'yes' to the wrong person … it doesn't matter. Get away. Back away. Before it's too late.
