In My Blood

Chapter 10

Addison Montgomery's Point of View

January 2011

I don't remember how to be strong. Everyone wants me to be strong. They want me to be the vibrant, funny, confident over the top woman I once was. I've changed. I'm no longer friendly or compassionate like I was before. I'm impulsive. I don't know how to be the person they want me to be. Was I ever really that person or was I just masking to make everyone else feel better? The designer handbags and fashionable clothes I'm know for are stupid. It's just a status symbol. It's just how I was raised. My five-million-dollar home is no longer an asset now that I don't have anyone to share it with. Was my happiness ever genuine? I am turning into a monster. Bizzy warned me from an early age to never show emotion. Never let them see you cry. Those rules are crumbling in my old age. Meredith and Mark try to help, but they're going about it all wrong.

'You could be happy though, just think about when you'll finally get to hold that little baby in your arms.' The thought makes me want to scream.

'You still have Oakley, and Willow.' That's not the fucking point.

'How would Willow feel if she lost you too?'

'You have to stop this, for Oakley and Willow, they need you.'

I think about Willow a lot lately. I think of how badly I've failed her. Meredith says she's been talking to a grief counselor, and apparently making some progress there. Apparently, she speaks about Heavenly a lot and she's mad at me because I 'Tried to go be with Heavenly and she couldn't.' She's too young to realize that wasn't exactly my intention. All she knows is we were supposed to bake cookies the night I ended up in the hospital and almost died. Her parents didn't shelter her from the truth. They weren't sure if I would survive. If I'd wake up. If I'd be ok or permanently brain damaged or disabled. Meredith is heartbroken. She's hurting and doesn't know how to deal with her daughter's grief, or her own grief at the life they should have had. Meredith hasn't said anything or acted in a way that was anything but loving. I know she blames me though. I blame me. Who wouldn't? Then there are the things I tell myself to deal with my guilt.

'It was a kidney infection that went to far.'

'It was a freak complication during surgery.'

'I had nothing to do with what happened.'

'This is not my fault.'

'This was meant to be.'

I try and psyche myself out. I try to make myself believe that I truly had nothing to do with my situation, but in the end, I know good and well it was my fault. I never wanted this baby. I drank a liter of vodka and totaled my car. I wished ill upon her. How many days had I laid in my bed or sat in the window of the brownstone feeling her move inside of me and praying for a miscarriage? I was on heavy levels of tranquilizers, anti-anxiety and anti-depression medications. All of these medications are known to increase risk during pregnancy. I restricted my daily caloric intake to almost nothing. I passed out in the shower. I tried to induce the pregnancy. I had wild sex. I was too caught up in my own grief to realize I had a raging kidney infection. I ignored the pain and the bleeding. I delayed a trip to the hospital. I lost over half my blood during surgery. I was in a coma for five weeks, and yet still she's fine. It must really be meant to be because I can't seem to get rid of her. Granted most of these conditions were caused by my grief of Heavenly's death. I wasn't trying that hard. Somehow, she's still alive. Somehow, I'm still alive. It must really be meant to be.

"How are you feeling today?" Meredith asks after a quick knock on the door.

"Is Willow, okay?" I ask, hungry for information.

"Level one avoidance. Answering a question with a question." Meredith teases. I study her for a moment. I try to figure out what's different. I can't though. It's been a few days maybe she's better rested.

"Everything's fine." I say. "My stats are fine; the baby's stats are fine. The cerclage is some sort of miracle since it was placed against all recommendations, and I haven't died yet." I say, dully.

"The heavy-duty antibiotics cleared the infection, and Oakley's water sack just had a tear. Your body was able to heal it once the infection started clearing and the water regenerated. You were lucky." Meredith shrugs her shoulders. She is the one who seems to have a scientific explanation for everything.

"Ok."

"You're back up to a healthy weight, and Oakley has grown as well. She's still a little small, but she's within normal range for her gestational age. She's about 15 inches long and she weighs about two and a half pounds, just needed to get some good nutrition into you both."

"Great. I can go home now, right? There's no clinical reason for me to be here."

"Ha ha very funny." She says facetiously, but when she see's the look on my face her whole demeanor turns serious. "Addison what's wrong?"

"Nothing, everything's fine." I say automatically, but she knows better than this. My face is getting hot. A lump is forming in my throat. Damn it. I cannot even get angry without crying. Fucking hormones. I bring my hands to my face, resting it in them as I take a deep breath.

"No. You're not fine, you're about to cry, now spill." Meredith sits down beside me, but I move over. I don't want anyone touching me.

"I just need to go home." I say, simple, straight to the point.

"You're not strong enough to go home just yet. You need to maintain hospital bedrest until the baby is born. You're the one who set the treatment plan here, and Dr. Thompson agrees." Her tone is gentle, her eyes pitying. It makes me angry. I can't help it through.

"I was delirious with pain. I didn't know what I was saying."

"Then you shouldn't have said it."

"I'm pregnant I'm not dying."

"You died twice."

"Obviously it didn't stick, ya'll managed to bring me back. I would have never kept my patients in the hospital this long against their will." I say, shrugging. She gives me a look, but she doesn't say anything.

"You just woke up from a coma three days ago."

"Medically induced." I counter.

"That's doesn't matter at this point, you are still need physical and occupational therapy while you're recovering. Why are you so insistent on going home?" She asks. She is beginning to get annoyed. I don't care that I'm making her feel this way. I don't care about anything anymore.

"Bring me the paperwork I'll sign out AMA."

"You know I can't do that. Mark has power of attorney. He'd have to sign you out."

"I have to get out of here." I say, shaking my head. "I can't breathe in here Meredith. It's like the walls are closing in on me." My breathing is too fast. I try to slow it down, but I can't. Anxiety is getting the best of me. I don't want to have to be put on Oxygen again.

"I can get you some medication to help with the anxiety." She offers. "I can help you stay more comfortable." She says, but I shake my head eyes stinging with tears now.

"I don't want more medication. I want to go home."

"Addison, I empathize with you, truly I do, but there is not a single thing in this world I can do about that. You should have thought about how it would feel being stuck in the hospital for weeks on end when you tried to abort your baby at home instead of going to clinic where you could have access to a safe medical abortion."

"Mark told you…"

"Yeah." She says, nodding her head. "After I chewed his ass for being mad at you and being an unsupportive jerk when you're fighting for your life, he told me he's upset with you. The fact that you were willing to put my daughter into that situation?"

"I would never, Meredith it didn't work. I started bleeding and went into labor on my own."

"Heavenly wouldn't want this Addison."

"You have no idea what Heavenly would have wanted." I tell her, shaking my head. "I'm her mother, and yes the two of you were very close, but you will never know her like I did. Just like I will never know Willow like you do." My voice breaks. "You have not right to assume what my daughter would have wanted."

"Addison, I understand you're hurting. I didn't mean it like that. It's just… I love you. I love Heavenly. Willow loves you and it kills me to see you like this. It kills me to hold my daughter while she cries. She has nightmares Addison. She's terrified you're going to die too."

"You don't understand. There is no way possible that you could understand. You still have your daughter. Your kid didn't die here." Meredith looks shocked. I can tell she's speechless. She opens her mouth to say something but closes it again. "You're not stuck here a hallway and a door away from where your daughter was taken off life support."

"When will you understand that I love Heavenly too?" She asks, throwing her hands in the air, I can tell she is trying hard to keep her composure. "I may not have given birth to her, but with the way we raised our girls I consider her every bit as much my daughter as she was yours. I was under the impression you felt the same for Willow."

"I did… I do."

"I'm sick of this Addison. I'm hurting too. I lost Heavenly too. You act like you're the only person who lost her." She's crying, and when I do not respond she turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind her. I don't feel guilt. I don't care, right now in this moment that I've hurt her.

I get up slowly and look around the room. I'm still unsteady on my feet. I am supposed to be walking though. Multiple times daily short distances like to the bathroom and back to regain my strength and to prevent blood clots. I look down at the orange bracelet on my risk. "FALL RISK" I'm not supposed to be up without assistance. I crouch down carefully unwinding the cord to the machine giving me medication and fluids so I can move around the room without setting off the alarms. I'm not even sure what I'm looking for. I pace the room, anxiety and numbness building with each lap. I walk to the bathroom; I look in the mirror to see my tear-stained face. My hair is messy and I'm not wearing any make up. I don't want to know what I looked like before because Meredith said I am a healthy weight now, but my face is still hollow. My arms are thin, and my collar bone is poking out weirdly from under the hospital gown. My eyes are dark. I look sick. I don't know what makes me do it, but I pull my fist back and punch the mirror, hard. It shatters and a piece of glass falls into the sink. I look in the mirror again. This is a more accurate representation. I'm shattered. Broken. I will never be the woman I once was again, just like this glass will never be a mirror again. I step backwards, looking at the glass in the sink, almost questioningly.

I don't know what makes me do it, but I pick the piece of glass up. A wave of guilt washes over me I am getting dizzy. I'm not used to standing for this long. I sink down to the corner of the shower, pull my knees up as close as I can with the expanding baby bump. I rest my head on my knees and let the tears I have been holding back fall. I run my fingers over the smooth surface of the glass shard holding it gently. Without thinking I run it along my wrist, not pressing down, just testing the waters. I'm trembling. I can't do this. This isn't who I am. I don't know who I am anymore.

I black out for a moment. I can see her running along the beach. She's so excited as she runs through the waves and carefully picking up seashells and plopping them in her little pink bucket.

"Look at me Mommy!" She calls, and I look up smiling from where I had been sitting with her Daddy on the beach. He had fallen asleep on the beach towel, tanning.

"I see you I do!" I say. I get my phone out to take a picture. She is wearing a cute little Gymboree two piece with a matching hat and sunglasses. She looks at me annoyed. "Not another picture, you've already taken so many today!" She exclaims. She plops herself down in the sand and starts building a sandcastle with her beach toys. Carefully she lines up the seashells she's collected so she can choose just the perfect ones she wants to use for the door, the windows and the walkway.

"Mommy come play with me!"

I'm crying harder now. I just want to be with her. I want this hallucination to be real. My mind is racing a million times a minute, and without thinking I take the glass and press down hard. A rush of relief spills out with the crimson blood. I drag the glass further and the blood flows down my wrist and to my hand. It drips and stains my hospital glow. It's beautiful, almost like a painting.

"Mommy where are you?" I hear her calling. I look around, shaking my head heard. The lines between the hallucination and reality were becoming blurred. Was she here? Is she hiding somewhere in this room? My vision is tunneling as the door opens. I'm dizzy and I feel like I am going to be sick. I just want to sleep. Please let me sleep. Let me see her again.

"Mommy?"

"I'm here." I say, but my voice is weak. I'm not sure if I really said something or if I just imagined it. The world goes black around me, but I can feel someone putting their warm hands on my neck. They check my pulse. They call my name, they shake me, but I can't respond. People always say you see a bright light or whatever, but maybe they're wrong. Maybe there's only darkness before your soul is freed.

Meredith Grey Shepherd' s Point of View:

January 2011

I only make it to the supply closet before completely breaking down. Seconds later Derek opens the door, sitting down next to me on the hard floor. He pulls me into his arms, and I rest my head on him, trying to calm myself down.

"Mer what happened?" He asks, shocked.

"I … she… I don't… I don't want…" He hands me a bag and I put it to my mouth, I take several slow deep breaths and eventually my breathing slows. He pulls me closer and wipe the tears from my cheeks.

"It's okay." He sooths over and over again until my breathing is slow enough that I can speak again. "You just came from Addison's room? Do you want to tell me what happened?" He asks.

"She is so freaking selfish." I exclaim in a low hiss. "She's self-destructive and she's egotistical and she is going to die. She is too stuck in her grief to realize that she is actively killing herself a little bit more every day." I manage to get out.

"We've already lost Heavenly and you're afraid you're going to lose Addison too." He clarifies and I nod.

"I'm losing my best friend. She doesn't seem to comprehend just how much we're hurting too. It has been hell since Heavenly died."

"Addison says things she doesn't mean when she's in pain." Derek says simply.

"So you're defending her?" I ask, annoyed. "You're taking up for your ex-wife over me?"

"No." Derek clarifies. "I'm showing her grace. This has really messed her up. She needs grace right now Meredith. I've known her longer than you have. Believe me when I say she will never get over this if she doesn't get help."

I don't like it, but I agree with him. I sigh and stand up, wiping my eyes again. He stands up as well and kisses me.

"I'll you'll do the right thing."

"I yelled at her."

"She'll be alright. She's tough." He gives me a hug, and we open the supply closet door.

"I'll talk to her." I say, I'm not ready. If I had my choice I would leave. I don't know what I have to offer her when she is spiraling out of control. She is my best friend but that doesn't help, if anything it makes things worse. Derek and I part ways and I walk to Addison's room.

"Addison I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm sorry I walked away. If it had been Willow, I would need more time too." I start talking when I open the door and enter her room, expecting to see her lying on the bed, but she's not there. In my opinion she wouldn't be in as deep of a hole if Mark wouldn't have kept her on that medication cocktail for so long. I am sure it had more to do with when the legal cut off for abortions is than with how she was doing psychologically. He wants this baby so badly he was willing to do whatever it took to get her. He broke Addison for her. If she had been able to deal with the loss like the rest of us maybe she would be a functional human being right now.

"Addison?" I call. I turn to the bathroom and knock on the door. "Addison are you in here?" I give her a minute, but when she doesn't respond I open the door to see her sitting propped up against the corner of the shower, a pool of blood surrounding her. She had drugged the IV pole into the bathroom with her. I check and it's still on the same settings I left it on, but the contents falling onto the ground.

"Oh my God." I whisper. I take one look at her and quickly press the emergency button beside the toilet. Alarms start going off and I kneel next to her, luckily none of the glass from the shattered mirror hit the floor. I somehow manage to get her in a position where she is laying flatter. Her head on my lap. Her skin is cold and clammy. How long was I gone? I couldn't have been gone more than twenty minutes max. Her pulse is weak. I examine her wrist. It's a clean cut. It doesn't loo like she's cut any arteries but she's bleeding too much too fast. I grab a towel and tightly wrap it around her wrist after folding it in half.

"We need some help in here!" I scream when nobody responds withing the first thirty seconds to the alarm. Her blood is all over me. Her complexion fading more and more by the minute.

"Addison…" I pat her face, a little rougher than necessary, trying to get her attention. "Addison can you hear me?" No response. The bleeding seems to be slowing down now, though it has completely soaked through the first towel. I fold the second towel in half and wrap it as tight as I possibly can, being sure to apply pressure directly to the wound. At some point she had pulled out her I v port. I don't replace it. I fear if it will start gushing blood again. I move her arm up, keeping it elevated above her heart.

"It's okay Addison, I've got you." I try and keep my voice calm, but it's shaking. "I've got you, it's okay just hang on, we're going to figure this out."

I should have stayed with her; she was clearly upset.

I shouldn't have been so hard on her. She's not emotionally ready yet.

I should have insisted Mark take her off of all those medications sooner.

She lost her child and wasn't allowed to properly grieve, of course she'd be having a hard time.

"What's going on? Grey-Shepherd report." Dr. Thompson demands. It looked like she was out of breath from running to the room.

"Where the hell is everyone?" It had only been a few minutes, but it felt like hours.

"There was an emergency, most of the extra staff has been pulled to the pitt. REPORT." She demands and suddenly I cannot find my words. Haven't been spoken to like that since I was an intern.

"Addison Montgomery. I think she's going to hypovolemic shock secondary to a suicide attempt. She is cold and clammy. Her pulse is weak and tacky. Her airway is clear, but her breathing is slow and shallow. I'm holding pressure on the wound. I haven't replaced the IV's she removed."

"We're going to have to move her. I've got a gurney just outside. Did you check for fetal heart sounds?" Joy asks. Fuck. No. I didn't. Both of my hands are covered in blood. I'm still holding pressure on the wound. I could have checked at anytime one handedly. The stethoscope feels awkward and heavy around my neck.

"She's bleeding badly. I was more concerned about blood loss." I admit, feeling extremely guilty. 'Please be okay Oakley.' I say a silent prayer. It must be a true emergency because she was able to remove the IV's and the sensors without anyone noticing. Addison never wanted this baby, but I am certain she would not be able to handle another loss.

"Keep pressure on her arm, I'm going to lift her up and onto the gurney."

"You can't lift her, where's the response team?"

"There was a mass shooting nearby that has taken all of our resources. We've had to shut the emergency room down to incoming trauma. Everyone who can help has been called to help." Joy says with urgency. I don't know what I was worried about. She lift's Addison easily and cradles her in her arms as we take her out of the bathroom and lay her on the gurney.

"Someone needs to find her husband." I say, and Joy nods. "I'll find him after we've worked on her." She looks down at Addison, gently touching her face, and then begins reattaching all of the monitors, tubes, wires, pumping her full of medication. "You're going to be okay."

Addison Montgomery's Point of View.

January 2011

My eyes open and I see Meredith standing over me. There is a cuff around one of my wrists cuffing me to the bed. My other arm is propped up on the med cart as she slowly stitches it shut. A unit of blood and fluids are making my way into the veins of the cuffed arm. Oakley's heart beats steadily in the background along with the wooshing and swooshing everytime she moves. I wish Meredith would just turn it off. It's bad enough I have to feel her. I don't want to hear her too.

"Welcome back." She says and I grimace. I don't speak and she continues to stitch. "Most of the staff is responding to an emergency and so after Dr. Thompson was satisfied that you're not going to die she left me to stitch you up, and monitor you." She informs me. I look away.

"Please leave."

"What in the hell were you thinking?" She asks me.

"I wasn't."

"Well that much is plain." She presses her lips together tightly. They form a dangerously thin line. She's mad at me, and I'm okay with that. She finishes stitch up my arm and wraps it tightly in a white bandage.

"Why did you help me? I didn't need your help, Meredith."

"I might be extremely irritated with you right now, but my daughter still love you. I couldn't let you die, and then go home and give my baby girl that news without letting her know I tried. You could have died. Your baby could have died."

"That would have been blessing. Please just leave."

"Unfortunately, I can't leave." She says." I have been assigned to baby-sit you since you are obviously incapable of taking care of yourself. "The only reason you're not in psych is because they cannot handle high risk maternity patients, believe me. I called."

"You can't cuff a pregnant woman." I remind her. "It's against the law due to the risk of blood clots." The cuff is one of those soft ones from Psych. I could just reach over and unstrap it, but my knuckles were bloody and after cleaning them she wrapped the bandage tightly over my entire hand.

"The last time I left you uncuffed you slit your wrist. You're really going to have to start thinking about your actions a little better before you do them." She says, coldly.

"Meredith…"

"Don't Meredith me!" She screams and I look up at her, taken aback. "Did you ever even for one second stop to think how your actions affect those around you?" She demands. "Even if you want to throw away your life, even if you feel like you have nothing to live for those people around you are getting hit with all the shrapnel your self destructive bomb has thrown. The people who love you are hurt. We're hit Addison. Mark is hurting. This baby is hurting. Willow is hurting. Derek and I are hurting." Meredith sits on the bed now, her presence so forceful that I make eye contact with her. She puts her hand on my shoulder, supportively. "You are my person. You don't get to do this to the people who love you."

"I didn't even have a choice." I exclaim, but I am crying so it's less effective than it could have been. Oakley keeps moving and between her moving and my arm being cuffed so I cannot move to a comfortable position I begin to panic, suddenly feeling claustrophobic with every single kick. Meredith places a nasal cannula on me and turns on the oxygen flow.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a human incubator and I had no say."

"You've always wanted children Addison."

"I know."

"What changed?" She asks, she carefully unstraps the restraint, and takes it off, freeing my arm. I reposition onto my side. A much more comfortable position.

"I never wanted this baby."

"You couldn't have said something sooner? I would have taken you to the clinic. I would have helped you in whatever way I could."

"When?" I demand. "When do you feel the appropriate time would have been to fight Mark on this? I told Mark I wanted an abortion and the next thing I know I wake up and it's December. He had me so drugged up I still have months of missing memory. Should I have done it then or should I have somehow said something when the two of you consented to me being put in a coma?" I ask sarcastically.

"Well, what you're doing isn't the way, so we'll have to figure something else out. Maybe once the baby is born, you'll be happier."

"I guess." I say, shrugging, but it seems hard to look forward to something that is so far away. It's hard to look forward and see the light at the end of the tunnel when the light is something you want no part in.

Authors Note:

Thank you for reading! Please review! Questions, comments, concerns welcome. Next chapter is Addison and Mark. I'm exploring the angle of Addison feeling like her rights and choices have been taken away, so I'm exploring that for a little bit. 3