A/N: Thank you to everyone who's been reading and responding. Couple quick things: I don't think Addison is crazy. I do think she's under a lot of stress, has just had the last third of her life stripped away, and her coping mechanisms in stressful times are ... not necessarily the best or healthiest, but she's certainly not alone there. What she did in the last chapter in Richard's office wasn't great, but a lot is going on in her head right now.
To paraphrase the wise emk8, sometimes things need to get worse before they can better ... so I hope you'll hang on and keep going.
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liability
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"Addison. Do you understand the process?"
Richard is staring at me and after my outburst I know I have professional debt I need to turn back to credit.
"Yes. I understand the process," I echo obediently.
"I'll let you know when Dr. Gilmer has completed her assessment." Richard pauses. "Addison … is there anything to what I think is Derek's suggestion that you are not the right physician to provide Ms. Fowler's procedure?"
I level my gaze at him, knowing how important this is. "No, there isn't." I pause. "I'm experienced with all forms of second trimester procedures, Richard," I tell him patiently. "I've been providing for more than ten years."
He pages through the papers on his desk for a moment. "You've provided at 23 weeks?"
I know how much is riding on this answer, that Richard is studying my face. I know what Derek wants to tell him, so it's key that I get in first.
"Yes, I have."
I know it seems like I'm being evasive. I am. For now … let's just say I can still hear her voice.
Derek left without telling Richard anything but I'm not sure I can trust him not to tell him when I'm not around. Funny, it's the one thing, after all that's happened, where I would have thought I could trust him.
Like last time. That's what Derek hissed at me earlier.
That's when I realize for the first time that when he followed me into the supply closet yesterday he must have thought that was why I was overcome in Hannah's room. That he was trying – okay, in his Derek Shepherd way, but still sort of trying – to push past how much he hated me for lying about Mark, to show up for me, and I dropped my abortion on him without any warning.
It explains a little, to me at least, about why he was so angry in the supply closet. Derek hates being wrong-footed. Especially if he already feels like he's giving ground. Remember how he turned on me when he was all chipper about our civil and mature divorce and then I broke it to him I'd stayed with Mark?
(Yeah, me too. I'm not likely to forget it anytime, either.)
I've known Derek for almost half my life. Derek doesn't like surprises.
He nods. "I've reviewed the rest of the hospitals providers. You…"
"…go later than anyone else here? I know." I look up at him for a moment. "This isn't about me. It's about teaching. "Richard … training is a problem with the new graduates. I'd like to use more than one intern. Train them."
"Once you have signoff."
"Of course."
"Addie." He pronounces my nickname with almost paternal affection, and his gaze is warm. You like me again, that's what the shameful, desperate child inside of me thinks before I can stop her.
"I'm glad you're staying in Seattle," he says gently. "But I know it can't be easy."
"It's fine." I don't meet his eyes, just rub the palm that's still reddened and stinging. I don't want tenderness right now. I want distance. Wasn't that what Richard tried to teach me, all those years ago? Distance? So he of all people should appreciate it.
"If you want to talk, Addie … if you have any concerns …"
"My only concern is getting my patient the services she needs." I uncross my legs, the universal sign for ready to go. "If you don't need anything else … "
He just looks at me for a long moment, and I hesitate with my hands on the armrests of the chair, waiting for permission to leave, nice and deferential. If I have to play by the rules to get what I need, then I'll do it.
…
I'm running a mental list of what needs to get done before I can finally start the procedure when I walk straight past a familiar figure.
Training, that's what these interns need, that's what I told the chief.
And no one needs more training than this one.
"Karev." My voice comes out as a bark and he stops in his tracks, which is somewhat gratifying. I stride the space between us to stand in front of him. "What's your experience with abortion?"
He cocks his head. "Okay, I guess we're skipping the small talk."
The mouth on him…
"I'm talking about providing the procedure, Karev. Whatever may have happened between you and the farmer's daughter back in Idaho is none of my concern."
I know, I know. Not okay. But all that anger has to go somewhere.
Karev has his own anger, I guess; it flashes across his face before he gets himself in check. "I've assisted on an aspiration. And … Iowa."
"Excuse me?"
"Iowa, not Idaho."
I don't acknowledge the correction. "I have a patient at 23 weeks who needs a D&E. I'm starting the procedure later today."
At least I hope I am.
I can see Karev's expression change at twenty three weeks; he's not so experienced that he can cover up his reactions yet. That, or he's such a loose cannon that he'll never be able to; jury's out, really. I know I'm challenging him.
"I thought I was off your service," he says.
"You are. But I am offering you the opportunity to assist on a procedure that not many physicians are trained to perform."
This should pique his interest; he's a surgeon, after all.
"I already know how to terminate a pregnancy."
"You already know? Because you've done a D&C? Please." I shake my head. "This is different. And I'm guessing it wasn't covered in Iowa."
He doesn't blink at this; I'm grudgingly impressed. Maybe I wasn't wrong when I thought I saw something in him, before.
"You should learn this procedure, Karev. You should want to learn, because you're an intern and sometimes I think you might even be a halfway-decent one. You should want to learn every possible way to help your patients. You should take every opportunity to hone your skills." I pause. "But please … go ahead and meet my low expectations and blow it off."
"You don't know me at all." His eyes are narrowed.
"Oh, if only that were true."
He looks right at me then. "I'm scrubbing in."
"You're an intern. You don't decide who scrubs in anywhere."
"You just said…" He exhales sharply. "Fine. May I scrub in … Dr. Montgomery?"
I wait just long enough to make him squirm. "You may."
…
News travels fast in a hospital. Every hospital, every city, doesn't matter. If you don't believe anything else I say, at least believe that. Because it's true.
So I'm not surprised when another intern catches up to me in the hallway to ask about a controversial procedure sweeping the surgical floor.
I am a little surprised about which intern it is.
"Dr. Montgomery?"
"Yes, Dr. Grey?"
"Alex told me – I mean I heard you're doing a 23-week termination."
"That's correct."
"I was wondering if it would be possible for me to assist? I mean, Alex told me he's scrubbing in, but – I haven't been trained that late, and if there's an opportunity…"
Why wouldn't she want to learn everything she could? That's what I asked Naomi, our intern year, and she shook her head, judgment all over her face, and said not everything is about being the best in the class, Addie. Nai didn't get it – not then and not later.
I study her for a moment, somewhat impressed but with no interest in showing it. It seems like whatever else I might say about her … Dr. Grey gets it.
So I don't tell her it's ultimately up to Dr. Bailey which OR she'll stand in to learn a procedure – Miranda will let me have whichever intern I choose, I already know that. I could mess with her, but I don't have any interest in that either, not really.
"Yes, Dr. Grey. You may assist."
"Thank you." She pauses. "Um … Alex said it wasn't scheduled yet?"
"We're waiting for one final step. I'll let you know when we can begin."
She nods. "Thank you," she says again.
"Dr. Grey …" I call after her as she starts to leave.
She turns around.
"About our conversation the other day," I start slowly, trying to test her memory.
She looks puzzled. "I'm sorry?"
"Our conversation about your … dating life?"
"I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about." She looks puzzled and I can tell she's being honest. She's not a liar. I know this because I am one, and I can always tell another liar. I always know another liar when I see one.
"Sorry," I say breezily, "I must have you mixed up with another intern."
As if another intern is burned into my memory like this one.
But at least I've confirmed she doesn't remember the last time we spoke face to face.
Not that our conversation was so terrible. And it's not that I hate her.
I mean, I don't exactly love her either. But not for the reason some people might think. Not because she screwed my husband at the prom after telling me they weren't involved.
(I don't have a lot of room to hate other people for their stupid sexual choices.)
And not even because her tiny panties ended up in my husband's jacket pocket.
If I hate her, it's because of the supply closet. Because she saw me crying.
Nothing I can do about that now – except make sure it never, ever happens again.
"Thank you, Grey," I give her a polite but dismissive smile. Interns are like puppies: they have to be reminded to go and stay and heel.
"Dr. Montgomery – "
"Yes?"
"Before, when you said our conversation – did you mean when you mean when you asked me if I was sleeping-"
" - with my husband? That's not the conversation I meant. No."
"Okay."
I have to admit enjoying how awkward she clearly feels; usually I win the awkward competition, at least in Seattle.
"Okay," she says again. "I just wanted to say … that day, when you asked, I said no, that I wasn't. And it was true. At the time, it was true."
"At the time, it was true," I repeat blankly.
"Right." She nods.
"And then you did sleep with him … what was it, a week later?"
"…yeah."
"Okay, then." I give her a polite smile. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I'm not really sure. … because it's true?"
"There are a lot of true things we don't tell each other, Meredith. We don't exactly talk to each other."
"Right. I'm sorry. I guess I thought it would make me feel better."
"Did it?"
"No." She looks at me. "You don't seem surprised by that," she observes.
"Yeah, I have some experience in the area."
Unburdening yourself rarely feels great, I know this well. It just gives out more ammunition for people to use against you.
"I'm not sleeping with him now, either," Meredith volunteers next.
Yeah … I really didn't need to know that. I try to channel please don't tell me more with my eyes, just to see if we have that sort of connection. She starts talking again – we don't, no surprise there.
"He's – preoccupied," she says. "Well, moody. Moody and preoccupied."
Oh, if you're going to marry him you're going to have to get used to that.
"Dr. Montgomery-"
"Yes?"
"We could be. I mean, it's possible for us to talk to each other."
"Talk to each other." I give her my most appraising look, over the top of my glasses. "That's what you want? You want the two of us to talk to each other more often?"
"…not exactly," she admits.
That's the moment I decide I like her a little more.
"Good choice," I say.
I know we'll never be friends, not really. And so does she.
But she almost smiles when I say it.
And so do I.
And I kind of wish Derek were here to see it just because I know it would make him extremely uncomfortable.
…
My afternoon fills up quickly with no word from Richard; I don't even have time for a much-needed coffee until I've finished consulting on a trauma case that turns into two trauma cases.
Not that slowing down is the best idea. In my experience, slowing down is rarely a good idea; slowing down is when you think. I'm standing by the nursing station, paging through a chart for one of my post-op patients, trying to stop my mind from spreading loosely over all the mistakes of my past, as it likes to do, when my blackberry buzzes.
Richard. Finally.
I take off at a clip; when I round the corner on his floor I see Derek take the opposite corner, clearly heading to Richard's office, too.
I don't acknowledge him.
"Addison. Slow down."
I don't. I speed up a little, in fact, so he has to jog to catch up and we're both a little breathless by the time we get to Richard's office.
"Addison-"
"Richard, you asked to see me?" I cut smoothly in front of Derek.
"I wanted to see you both because Dr. Gilmer has completed providing her second opinion."
"And?" I glance at Derek, a little pleased that he didn't get the information before I did.
"And she confirmed your gestational dating," Richard said.
"Of course she did," I can't help saying. "Okay. So we're all set now. Right?"
"Chief-" Derek starts to intercede.
"It's not quite that simple," Richard says, looking from one of us to the other.
"Why not?"
"Once a question is raised about viability, the hospital needs to confirm that it's complying with the law."
"I don't understand. We're at 23 weeks. There's no question any more. Not that there was ever an actual question … but you got your second opinion."
"The law is viability, Addison."
"And-"
"And 20 to 35% of babies born at 23 weeks survive."
He can spit statistics all he wants, it's an unfortunately loose definition of survive but that's not the point.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that hospital regulations are to convene the ethics committee after 23 weeks so they can come to a unified decision on whether to proceed."
"The ethics committee … you knew that." I turn to Derek, glaring, and he takes half a step back, out of arms' reach.
He doesn't have to worry about it. I'm far too angry to slap him now. This angry? I'm only going to think more clearly.
This angry … he'd better watch out.
"It's a liability issue," Derek says mildly. "The hospital-"
"Oh, please. It's not your job to protect the hospital from liability. You're not chief yet, did you forget? Oh." I pause. "Wait. Is that what this is about?
"You know it's not," Derek says sharply.
"You're trying to make sure you're the next candidate for chief. You want to be the hospital board's hero so they don't forget your name when it's time to approve you as the next chief of surgery."
"Stop it." Derek's face is flushed, his eyes are glittering. I see him clench his fists. It's obvious I'm getting to him.
"Richard, were you aware of this? That your star neurosurgeon is using my patient to prepare for his coronation? I mean, come on, Derek, have a little patience, the body isn't even cold yet."
"Addison, shut up!"
To be honest, watching him lose control first is immensely gratifying.
(Hey – I never said I was a good person.)
"Derek," Richard says sharply. "Calm down."
"Richard." I turn to him, keeping my voice modulated, even kind. "I think I've upset him. Tell Derek you're going to make him chief – he obviously thinks so. Go ahead and tell him in front of me."
"Addison, that's enough." Richard's voice is deep and firm, even severe, but I just turn to Derek.
"I guess you didn't know he promised me chief, too?"
"You?" Derek spits.
"Addison." Richard is glaring at me now and Derek is looking from one of us to the other. His message couldn't be clearer: you're done.
But I'm not. I keep going.
"And why do I suddenly think if we gathered all the department heads here right now they might have something similar to say? What do you think, Richard? Is Preston free? I'm sure this is a conversation that would interest him too …"
That when I run out of steam. Richard looks smaller than usual, his head slightly bowed. For once he looks his age. And I remember that he's not the one I really wanted to hurt – even if it's only just becoming clear to me how much he's been moving the chess pieces around all this time.
"Addison." Richard just looks at me, shaking his head. "I've known you since you were an intern and lately I think I don't know you anymore at all."
Sometimes I feel the same way. I don't say it out loud, though.
"You're not the same Addison Shepherd you used to be."
Well, I'm not Addison Shepherd. Not anymore. I'm Addison Montgomery, which just happens to be what I was as an intern, too. Montgomery then, and now Montgomery again. Everything in between is just a memory.
"This isn't personal, Addison." Richard sighs. "The ethics committee needs to be involved when the procedure is approaching viability. I have to ensure we avoid liability, that it's an appropriate use of the hospital's resources – that's my responsibility."
I just nod. I'm standing between Richard and Derek and it's never been clearer that It's just me. I'm the only one. And I'm tired of showing them my hand.
So I speak quietly and firmly. I know I haven't really done my part to dispel the hysterical-woman thing by going off on Derek in front of our boss twice in the same day, that's why it seems very important that they hear me now.
Rational.
Persuasive.
Right.
"Chief. You're saying it's a liability issue. But it shouldn't be a liability issue," I say with as much finality as I can. "It's a patient safety issue. I know every place that will go past 23 weeks. I know what she'll have to deal with if we can't help her here. It doesn't matter how much they want to help; they don't have our equipment or our training. They have to transport; we have our own trauma center. She can stay overnight here, be monitored. I'm not sending her out to walk through a wall of screaming protestors when she's already terrified. She needs my help, Richard. I took an oath. It's not a liability issue."
Richard looks unmoved. "You're not to provide any further services toward termination until the ethics committee has decided how to proceed."
I don't say anything.
"And whatever this is," he looks back and forth between Derek and me, his expression somewhere between disappointment and disgust, "stays out of my office and my hospital from now on."
"Dr. Sh – Dr. Montgomery," Richard's eyes are very serious when he turns to me. "Have I made myself clear?"
"Crystal," I respond, and turn to leave before I really do get myself suspended. Being self-destructive is only satisfying up to a point.
"Addison." Derek catches up to me outside Richard's office.
"Leave me alone."
He keeps pace with me anyway.
"Look, can we just … it's not about getting chief, Addison, you have to know what I was trying-"
"I don't care what you were trying to do. I care what you did. Which is hurting an innocent patient because of a problem with me, and I swear, Derek, if something happens to her-"
"That's exactly what I was trying to avoid!" He spreads his hands. "You know I wouldn't-" He breaks off abruptly. "I was there, Addison. I was there the last time, remember?"
"Just stop. I don't want to hear it."
"Of course. You can't take a minute to consider whether you might actually be wrong about something, that I might actually be able to-"
"No. I'm not going to fight with you, Derek. All I want is to help my patient," I tell him. "I want to help my patient … and I want you to stay the hell away from me."
And I spin on my heel and take off in the opposite direction, leaving him standing alone.
...
His words fill my head.
I was there, Addison.
Over and over.
I was there, Addison. I was there the last time, remember?
It's true, he was there. So was I. And neither of us should have been. See, there's a reason I don't talk about it. There's a reason I'm glad Richard had already left for Seattle when it happened. And there's a reason I don't want him to know.
Do you want to know?
Because I'll tell you. I will. But if you ask me, the worst thing about telling is that once a story is out there ... you can never go back.
TBC. I promise, next chapter she's going to tell you. And I promise that as bad as things seem between Addison and Derek now, I have A Plan, and this story is Going Somewhere. Did anything get accomplished in this chapter? I think so. But I know this story is somewhat ... unconventional, at least for me, but I appreciate everyone who's stuck with it. And keep going - because the next few chapters will be game-changers. Please review and let me know what you think!