Meredith stood there, paralyzed unable to move. The yelling, the incessant beep from the machine, the noise all seemed to drown out as she stared at the violently seizing figure in front of her. The familiar face now seemed so worn, her once-vibrant red hair, now a grayed maroon; her focused green pupils replaced with the spasming white of her eyeball. This couldn't be Addison. Yet, as a nurse shoved the chart in her hand, the bold black text read: Montgomery, Addison. It was quieter now; the hasty commands and frantic hands had ceased as the once moving being laid still on the bed. While she had stood idle and speechless, her residents had managed to calm the seizure. Now, over her shock, she opened the chart in her hands, flipping and scanning for important details. Kidney cancer. Metastasized. Terminal.

She couldn't feel it, but she could see her hands shaking as the words became blurred. Sneaking a look at the patient's fragile state, Meredith felt tears welling in her eyes walking quickly out of the room before her underlings realized. She grasped the countertop of the nurses' station, steadying herself as she let out a shaky breath. Her legs began to move, walking of its own accord; her mind, too tired to object, obliged. She felt like her body was on autopilot as her finger pressed the button to the elevator. It didn't take long before she found herself outside Derek's office. Through the glass walls she could see him working diligently on some paperwork, his nose seemed buried in a piece of paper, so engrossed that he didn't see her. She had to tell him. She needed to tell someone. Talk to someone. Before she knew it, she was in his office as he looked up at her, a smile immediate on his face when he recognized her.

"Addison's dying," she managed to choke out. It took all her strength to stand there still; her legs were shaking, threatening to give way to the ground below. She could barely see his reaction through the tears that welled in her eyes. A sound escaped from his chair as he got up, taking her into his arms. Leaning in, she buried her face into his sweater vest, soaking it with tears.

"She was in a hospital bed seizing. Her chart. She has kidney cancer. Terminal," she sobbed, trying her best to answer his unspoken questions through her tears. His arms tightened around her as she explained. He let out a shaky breath, feeling the room get smaller. In his arms, her breathing seemed to return to normal; the tears calmed. Looking up, she could see his eyes glistening with tears that threatened to fall. Suddenly, she felt so selfish, having him comfort her instead of the other way around. She loosened her grip on him, moving away from his embrace.

"I'll take you to see her," she said, taking his hand in hers. He felt numb. His feet shuffled underneath him, following her of their own accord. It was as if he was trapped in his own mind without control of his body. By the time they'd reached the room, he was barely conscious of where exactly he was, what exactly was happening. Only when he saw the frail figure lying on the bed, unconscious, did he understand. It felt like looking at a whole different person. This wasn't Addison Montgomery. Not the Addison he knew. Gone was the elaborate makeup that once caked her face, replaced with tired baggy eyes and a gaunt face. A paper-thin hospital gown replaced her fabulous high fashion attire. She looked so tiny in the massive hospital bed. What happened?

"She probably won't be waking up for a while," Meredith informed, interrupting his thoughts. He turned to her, a look of desperation evident on his face. She understood how he felt; she'd felt the exact same way. She could feel the cogs turning in his head, blaming himself. This wasn't anyone's fault. She knew that he knew that. Yet, she couldn't help feeling like this was everyone's fault. That it was all their faults, particularly hers for not staying in touch, for not knowing.

"Let's go to Joe's. I need a drink and so do you," she announced, walking out of the room. She couldn't be in that room without blaming herself just like he was blaming himself. It only made it worse that Addison was lying there unconscious, that Addison probably wasn't even aware that she was her doctor. She could hear the door close as he came out, following her.

"Straight tequila," she ordered, taking a seat at the bar. It was quiet tonight; they were the only two at the bar. She could feel him sit down on the stool beside her, ordering a scotch.

"I thought you didn't drink anymore?" he asked, watching her down her shot in one gulp. The tequila burned going down, leaving her feeling slightly warmer. Her head felt lighter as Joe poured her another shot.

"Special circumstances. Did you know she was sick?" she inquired, downing her shot, before daring to look at him. Somehow seeing him breakdown had helped stop hers. He shook his head, finishing off his own drink. That's what killed him. He hadn't known about this at all, because he had ended the relationship on such bad terms, because he didn't even try to contact her afterward. Addison was dying and he couldn't tell you how it happened, when it happened. This was his fault. All of it.

"The last time I saw her, she was screaming at me. Yelling at the top of her lungs and I couldn't hear a thing. Halfway through the relationship, I just stopped listening to her. I began to resent her, because I didn't love her and yet I didn't have the courage to end it. When I finally told her how I felt, she exploded and I stopped listening. That was the last time I saw her," he recalled, downing his scotch again. His eyes were welling with tears brought on by the burn of the scotch. Everything that had been brewing just seemed to come spewing out, like his filter was gone. He didn't know why he had told her that, it was just something he had been thinking about, swirling in his mind, begging to be let out.

"You know it's not your fault," she consoled. He gave her a bitter smile before gulping down his drink again. He could feel the buzz in his brain that he'd been looking for, something to numb the pain. He didn't want to think, not tonight. Maybe tomorrow he'd be strong enough to face this.

"Let's talk about something else," he offered, looking at the empty tumbler in front of him, waiting for the bartender to fill it up. Talking about Addison was making his buzz go away, thinking about her made his brain hurt.

"I saw Lexie today. She told me, you email her," she informed, turning to him to give a questioning glance. Surprise registered in his face for a second before he caught himself. She usually wouldn't be so bold as to ask him directly, but under the influence of alcohol, everything seemed to come spilling out.

"I saw her in front of your apartment one time asking for you. She told me she was your half-sister, said she wanted to check up on you. I knew you didn't want to see her so I told her I'd just email her updates on you to appease her. When you left, I...didn't have to heart to tell her. I just kept thinking...no...expecting you to come back. It just didn't seem worth worrying your father about. Months became years and I couldn't tell them the truth without admitting I'd been lying to them for so long. Plus I liked writing about you, pretending I was there for you for all those milestones in your life that I had missed out on. Those emails were like a way to be with you without actually being there with you. I don't know...I'm sorry," he rambled, stumbling on his words slightly. It was inevitable that she would find out, but in the back of his mind, he'd never thought this day would come. A month ago, he would be surprised if the three of them were in the same state, let alone working at the same hospital. The emails had been a way of tricking his mind that she hadn't left. Writing to Lexie made reality less real. It was his way of living in the past.

"I guess I should thank you really for getting my father off my back for a while. At least now you won't have to email Lexie anymore. I'm sure she can do her own spying from now on," she answered, gulping down another shot. A pang of guilt struck her heart at the thought of him waiting for her, expecting her return. Just as he had been pretending, she'd often found herself thinking about him, how he was doing. She never doubted that he'd be a brilliant surgeon, but she'd always wished she'd been there. She knew how he felt. If anything, she blamed herself for being selfish and leaving with no regard for others.

"It's late. I'll drive you home," he suggested, running his hands through his hair. He dropped some bills on the table while she gathered her things. They walked in silence to his car, lost in thought. They both swayed as they walked, finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other. When they finally made their way into the car, it became clear to both of them they were not going home tonight.

"You are too drunk to drive," she stated flatly, looking out onto the almost empty parking lot. Being a doctor, she knew it would endanger lives having him drive anywhere in his state. Why had she not thought of this before?

"Yeah. I am," he agreed, putting his keys into the ignition. Soft music began to play as he pushed a button, opening the sunroof. She was about to protest, afraid he'd drive despite his better judgment, but stopped when she saw him pull back his seat to its lying position, facing upward toward the stars. Understanding, she followed suit.

"When I was little, the night sky was filled with stars. I used to think they were Christmas lights that had been scattered across the sky. It made me feel like it was Christmas all year round. Like soon I'd go downstairs and find a present. Now, I hardly see any stars in the sky," he mused, putting his hands behind his head as he crossed his legs. He could only make out one star tonight, one lone star shining brightly in the midst of darkness.

"I was such a coward when I was little. I was afraid of the stars. I always expected one to just drop out of the sky and hit me. Like some kind of flaming rock. I only looked up at them when I was under a roof," she reminisced, laughing at her younger self. Just like him, she stared at the lone star in the sky, being swallowed by the black of night.

"During my internship, when things got really stressful, I used to look up into the night sky and just pretend I was one of the few stars in the sky, watching over the people I love below. It made me feel slightly less alone, knowing that somewhere out there the ones I loved were living happy, fulfilled lives...I wonder if stars ever feel lonely? I mean, I wonder how that star feels being the only one bright enough to be seen," he inquired, pointing his finger at the star in question. The motion was unnecessary, she knew which star he was referring to, but he motioned anyways. He was drunk and feeling lonely, sitting next to the only woman he'd ever truly loved, talking about stars in a hospital parking lot whilst his best friend was inside dying. Nothing made sense.

"There are probably billions of other stars that are there with him that we just can't see. I'm sure she has a bunch of friends," she answered, too drunk to notice the ridiculousness of the conversation.

"Do you think stars can fall in love?" he asked. It comforted him to know that there were a lot of stars out there that may be unseen to him. For the moment, he imagined himself as the lone star, shining brightly, the most conspicuous of his friends. Among his lesser-lit friends, the 'one', the star that caused him to shine so brightly and burn with such passion.

"I don't know. How do you mean love? What's love anyways?" she pondered. Perhaps each star has its personal guardian, someone to look after them, took care of them and did everything in their power to bring them happiness; and even though, there was no electricity or passion, there was a dull flame that kept them both burning. Maybe trust and respect can equate to love. Perhaps liking can one day blossom into love.

"Love is when all your thoughts are consumed by that one person. Your fuel and passion comes from her; seeing her makes you shine brighter, makes you visible even from light-years away. And even if you are the only star bright enough to be seen, you never feel lonely, because you know she's out there, alive and well; and that's enough for you, because as long as she's happy, even if it's not with you, you're happy too. It's when you accept that she'll never be yours, but it doesn't make you love her any less. That's how you know," he finished, a glazed look in his eyes. He had said too much, yet he couldn't stop himself. Afraid to turn to her, he continued looking up at the lone star that had prompted the entire conversation. Even though his unrequited feelings brought him pain, he was happy to have been able to know the feeling of being in love. He hoped the star, like him, had someone amazing in his life worthy of his love, even if that someone would never return the feelings.

"I bet stars do fall in love. It's just that things never work out, because the love's one-sided. Maybe that's why we don't see any of them. They get dimmer and dimmer because they're running away, trying to let go of their feelings," she answered. She hoped she was wrong, that stars all had happy endings; the white picket fence, the loving spouse, the beautiful children. But a part of her believed that happy endings were for the others, people that deserved it, people that weren't her.

"Life is too short for running away," he whispered, both feeling the heavy allusion in his words. Music filled the silence that descended upon the two, both finding themselves connecting with the lone star.

Cause I believe...It's better to have loved and lost…

Judy Bridgewater bellowed sorrowfully. Her voice drenched in bittersweet emotion.

In your hands hold my wayward heart no matter how I fought…

His voice followed softly, singing along to the lyrics that he had become so familiar. At the moment, he felt like he knew Ms. Bridgewater, felt her pain.

Just let me stay...unheard, unseen, by your side…

This time, her voice joined in, a trio of tragic love-stricken singers filling the air with sadness. Her eyes still turned upward, staring off into the dark night sky. The lone star seemed blurred as her eyes welled.

Till the day I die…

Tears filled his eyes, a lump forming in his throat. His eyes stared toward the lone star in the sky. One that will eventually diminish in shine one day, burn out. He thought of Addison, lying on the hospital bed, of the dying star, of himself dying. He didn't know when, why, or how he was going to die, but he knew, for some reason, he'd die loving her.

My love unrequited…

She finished as the song played its melancholy outro.