"So how long have you been together?"
"What do you mean?" Mark asked in response to Meredith's question as they sat outside OR 7, waiting for Addison.
"You. Addison. Derek." Meredith spoke in fragments. Mark looked up from his chart.
"I don't know as I'd call us 'together'. Though there was that one drunken night in med school…" he said with a suggestive eyebrow wriggle. Meredith smiled and rolled her eyes.
"I didn't mean…do you make everything sexual?" she demanded at his hearty laugh. She even elbowed him to cease the teasing chuckle.
"I was only going to say, there was the one drunken night in med school when we all passed out on the same crappy futon, but uh, that's as close as either of them ever got to taking advantage of me. Despite many fumbling attempts." He said with a wink.
Meredith didn't give him the satisfaction of another eye roll, and instead proceeded like an adult. "So you went to medical school together?"
"Yeah. Derek and I met when we were both sophomores in college. I had a studio in Spanish Harlem, my roommate ran off to join the circus—and by circus I mean the cocaine fad of the eighties—and Derek answered the ad." Mark informed her simply, thumbing through the papers.
"And voila? Best friends?"
He finally looked up at her seriously. "Why does that seem to register shock and skepticism?"
"You just seem so different."
"We are, but we're alike in the important ways." He assured her cryptically, turning back to his reading. Meredith's curiosity wasn't sated.
"And Addison? She joined your duo when?"
"First day of med school." He paused again, and looked up, musing.
"Derek came back to the apartment, fuming. Some 'redheaded she-devil' upstaged him quite mercilessly. He wouldn't shut up about her for weeks. I knew she had him, and I took every opportunity to point out that he might as well be chasing her on a playground and pulling her hair, which he would then deny in all his righteous rage…and then I stumbled into our place one night, kicked open the bathroom door, and saw the one and same redheaded devil peeing on my toilet wearing nothing but Derek's CBGB tee shirt."
Meredith's mouth dropped at the image. "Oh my God! That must have been mortifying!"
"Actually, she simply stood, washed her hands, and then took my hand, introducing herself very coolly as Addison Montgomery." Mark recalled with a smirk and a head shake.
"What did you say?"
"Something couth, she assures me, the details of which she never divulged. But I passed out, so I don't remember."
"Probably for the better." Meredith decided.
"I imagine." When the silence spanned between them, he broke it asking, "Did you ever scrub in on anything neonatal before?"
"Nope. My focus is mostly neuro."
"Really? You should talk to Derek. He's the best."
"So I hear. And we did have some…talks while he was in Seattle."
"He's the guy you want to talk to. Why neuro?" Mark asked distractedly. Somehow, it made Meredith…more at ease. But she just shrugged.
"…Just fell that way."
Her avoidance of the topic peaked his curiosity.
"You just woke up one day and thought, I'd like to be a brain surgeon?"
"Something like that." Why she felt compelled to say more to him, she didn't know. But she did. "I'm working on a project, this year, and…the experience in neuro helps."
"Then you should really talk to Derek while you're here. What's the project?"
"I'm trying to get a patient approved for an experimental treatment in Switzerland for Alzheimer's."
"Whoa. That's an endeavor. Those places are insanely exclusive. Does your patient have a lot of pull?"
"Some."
"How advanced is she?"
"Early on-set, progressive."
"Damn. Well, it will help your chances."
"Yeah. I hope so." She remarked darkly, averting her eyes now. He, on the other hand, did not go back to the chart. Instead, he deadpanned, "What happened to the light?"
"Excuse me?"
"Light. You. You're bright one minute, and then it's like the light goes out. What's the deal?" he wasn't probing, inquisitive, or nosy. He was asking as if he was asking why she chose a red shirt that day. And that, she decided, was why she told him. But she still didn't know why.
"The patient…the patient is my mother."
"The Alzheimer's patient?"
"Yes. And she's going quickly. If she doesn't get into this program, then she'll probably die where she is. But not right away…she'll…she'll just get worse and worse until when she actually does die, it will almost be a relief and…" Meredith cursed herself as her reserve crumbling, and she began to cry. He put a hand on her shoulder, but no more.
"Hey, hey, hey…you're making the bored psych interns perk up. Careful or I'll have them cart you off." He whispered to her as she rubbed at her eyes.
"I'm sorry. I don't know…I don't know where that came from."
"You all right to go into surgery? I can't have you sobbing into a woman's exposed uterus."
"I'll be fine. I honestly…that never happens." She assured him. He smiled and nodded.
"I would hope not. How would you like your surgeon to shake your hand, introducing themselves amidst sobs as, "D-D-D-D-D-Dr. M-M…" he dragged out the stuttering, and even added a little spastic shaking for emphasis.
Now, she was laughing almost hysterically, and felt even more unstable. She slapped his arm.
"Stop it! You know, if I were a fragile person, I'd be in need of some psychological debriefing after spending too much time with you!"
"If you were a fragile person, you wouldn't be a surgeon. Or even a doctor. Plus, it would almost be dumb to say, "I'm sorry," because naturally, you know I'm sorry. Alzheimer's sucks, often more for the family. It's the closest thing to Hell on Earth." His words carried a very distinct, yet subtle message.
"Yeah. Who was it?" Meredith asked quietly. Mark glanced at her quickly, looked away for a long time, and then spoke.
"My grandfather. Practically raised me. He was larger than life, a powerhouse. And when I was eighteen, this powerhouse…he started to go. Fast." He swallowed, and turned to look in her direction, though not in her eyes. "They said it would happen that way, but not overnight like it did. He became a shell of himself after less than two years. At my medical school graduation, when I shook his hand, I thought I saw some pride, some recognition, and I was so thrilled, but then he pulled me down close to his wheelchair and asked, 'Have we met young man?' It...it hurts."
"I'm sor—," Meredith swallowed a commiserating, sorrowful lump in her throat. "Is he still alive?"
"Nope. He went a few months after that." Mark took one last moment, in which Meredith could actually see the churn of the emotions in his eyes, but then switched off.
Not off, she decided. Just…on to something else. Everything else was still there, he just seemed to be good at diverting.
"We should get to surgery. Addison will have our asses." He said, clapping the chart shut and jumping up.
"Yeah…" she took a breath, and followed him, once again on the run.
"I love you, too, Tucker. How's Will?" Miranda asked softly, cradling her cell phone in the crook between her shoulder and ear as she leafed through Danny Ryan's charts. She listened to the vague rustling on the other side of the line, and Tucker cooing in the distance.
"Say Hi to Mom, Will." She heard him say in the background. After a pause, Miranda spoke.
"Will? Is that you, bugaboo?"
At the sound of his mother's voice, William Bailey-Jones expelled a joyous, bubbly shriek. Miranda's faced creased into a wide smile.
"That's my boy. How are you?"
Will embarked on a litany of unintelligible babbling, with the emphasis and pitch of someone telling an excited story. Only a mother would listen with the adoration that Miranda did, forgetting momentarily the charts before her.
After a few minutes, Will lapsed into silence and Tucker came back over the line.
"He loves talking on the phone. My mother called this morning and he wouldn't stop." Tucker informed her, over Will's continued babbling. Miranda pressed the phone harder to her ear, as if to draw them both closer.
"I'll bet. I miss you both, so much."
"We miss you, too. I told Will you were helping a sick little boy, though, and he said you're excused for being so far away."
Miranda's eyes drifted to the fragile form of the boy she didn't even know, lying swaddled in the sheets, a web of tubes protruding from his body.
"Yes, I guess I am."
"You guess? Miranda, you're amazing. That boy is lucky the building fell on him with you but feet away."
She pressed her eyes closed.
"I guess. But…what about my little boy?"
"He's far away from any tumbling buildings. I managed that much without you."
"I know, Tuck."
"Hey."
"Hey what?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"I'm lucky to have you as a wife, and as the mother of my son. You're an amazing woman."
"Thank you. Sometimes I just don't—oh my god!"
"What, what is it?"
"Tuck, I have to go! Kiss Will for me. I love you both!"
Before he could respond, Miranda slapped the cell phone shut and pounced on the defibrillator machine beside Danny's bed. She stared at the heart monitor that had suddenly gone flat and was screaming for attention.
"We have a code blue, a CODE BLUE!"
By the time she charged the paddles, Derek Shepherd was at the bedside.
"What happened?" he demanded, panic surging through his words as he hurriedly scanned the machines.
"I don't know, he just…crashed. I don't understand! He was stable, I was, I was watching him Dr. Shepherd, I promise!"
"Anything could have happened." Derek assured her quickly, "It wasn't you, Dr. Bailey. But we need him in surgery now. Someone tell Sloane and Montgomery I won't be in on their case!" he shouted to anyone who would listen, before turning to Miranda. "Can you scrub in, Dr. Bailey?"
"Of course." She watched as the orderlies rushed the bed down the hall, and when she caught a glimpse of Danny Ryan's face, she saw for a brief second Will's face.
And she felt that she had failed them both.
Addison peeled off her surgical cap, which was ringed with sweat.
The surgery had been Hell. But Amy Ryan, for the moment, would live. Her child, on the other hand, would not.
"Damn it." She said under her breath as she ran her hands under the surge of steaming water. Meredith Grey's eyes ticked nervously over as she performed the same action beside Addison.
"You did a beautiful job." She offered, because it was true. The only reason the baby hadn't survived was because of damage already inflicted—Addison had not stood a chance. Everyone in the operating room had known it, too, when she opened her.
Mark remained mute, but the concern for Addison was evident on his features.
After her hands were cleansed, she pressed her palms against the edges of the sink and stared at the swirling red water. Finally, Mark spoke.
"Addison, don't beat yourself up." His words were so tender, Meredith imagined if they were a physical gesture, it would have been an embrace. Addison only shook her head in response, and then walked out.
She didn't meet the eyes of anyone in the halls. It was okay. She had cultivated the tough, intimidating, borderline Ice Queen Bitch reputation for a reason.
When she eased the door of the pediatric Intensive Care Unit open, she was depressed to see another person. Until she saw Miranda's eyes.
They mirrored her own, and she felt at ease enough to sit beside her.
A few long minutes passed before Miranda, without taking her eyes from Danny Ryan's body, spoke.
"How did you do it?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your daughter. She loves you. You're a good mother. How did you do it?"
"Nine months gestation followed by not dropping her too much before she learned to walk on her own, and then just standing behind her in case she fell." She replied with a humorless half smile. She turned to examine the other woman's profile. "You said you had a son?"
"Yes, I do. Will. He's eight months old." Miranda spoke slowly and mechanically.
"Ah, a March baby. That's when Sadie was born." Addison observed.
"Actually, he was born in January."
Addison furrowed her eyebrow, redoing her math.
"Then, uh, he's ten months old."
Miranda performed a similar mathematic equation, and her lips slipped apart.
"My God. That's almost a year."
Addison nodded, thinking of Sadie at that age. With her short, wavy hair, she had looked a lot like Derek. Mark used to like to give Addison Hell, saying she'd make a cuter boy. And now, he complained that she was getting to be too cute of a girl.
"Yeah. He's about to become a lot of fun…and then run you right up the wall." She reminisced. Miranda seemed to not be on the same page.
"But…a year…my God. I didn't even know."
"It happens." Addison allowed herself a little ramble. "Nothing makes time elapse faster than having children, either. I mean, you can pass off your own aging for a while because when you get to a certain point its gradual, but kids…they just change so much so fast…" Especially when you work hundred plus hours a week, she thought to herself.
Miranda still seemed in awe. "I don't mean that, really. I mostly…oh never mind."
"What is it?"
"I feel…I feel like I'm losing it. On all fronts. My life is a war, a multi-front war, and I'm losing on of them." Miranda spoke quietly at first, and lowered her head to stare into her lap. Addison, at a loss, reached out and took her hand, without speaking. The gesture seemed to stimulate more words.
"I am a good doctor." She began, as tears brimmed in her eyes, giving them a sheen over the deep chocolate irises.
"I've been a good doctor for years—but until ten months ago. I may have been a doctor, but I've never been a mother. I don't know if I'll be any good at it. I want to be, and I try, but I don't ever know if I'm doing it right. When he cries, when he's sick, I feel…I get to a point where I start to think that if I had been home, if I hadn't been at work, he would be better. I thought I could do both—I really did. But lately, I can't help but…doubt. And that doubt starts seeping into everything. Eventually, it even seeps into my work. Not only am I seeing doubt in the eyes of the people I work with, but also I feel it in my heart. And that scares me. Because you can't doubt and be a good doctor. You can't doubt a damned thing." The tears were unstoppable, and she instinctively leaned to the side, to lay her head gently on Addison's welcoming shoulder. Addison wove an arm around Miranda's shoulder, cradling her, as she cried.
Eventually, Miranda managed, "And the Keller-Butler, the conference I'm missing, was my chance to prove not only to my boss but to myself that I could do it. And now, I'm not even there."
Addison waited until the tears ebbed before she began.
"Dr. Bailey…"
"I just blubbered all over your arm, you can just call me Miranda." Miranda assured her, sitting up from her and dabbing her eyes.
"Miranda…first of all, you're not at Keller-Butler because you're here, in the hospital you don't even work at, sitting by the beside of a child who you helped save, and you've given him the best chance he'll get. I know Richard Webber, and you should know, before your plane to Seattle even leaves, a personal letter will be written to him, by me, on your behalf. I'd say that beats the Hell out of the Keller-Butler."
"You don't have to do that."
"I would do it anyway, and I especially will now." Addison smiled slightly when Miranda smiled in gratitude, and decided to continue speaking. "Second of all…do you know what I was doing when I went into labor with my daughter?"
"What?" Miranda asked, her womanly curiosity peaked.
"I was a second-year intern, asked to scrub in and assist on a pre-delivery hormone replacement surgery to counteract congenital adrenal hyperplasia." Addison repeated proudly. Miranda's eyes widened.
"Wow. I've only ever read about that."
"Yes." Addison leaned back in her chair, looking off into the distance. "The head of neonatal at the time was absolutely revolutionary. And he told me I could be next." She took a breath.
"So I told myself the back pain and cramping that had been going on all day were just Braxton Hicks, which I had almost biweekly. But it wasn't. It was the real thing. And you would think, being that I was already beginning my training for neonatal, I would know not to ignore it. But I did. For six hours. Until a scrub nurse called a stop to the surgery because she had looked up and seen blood on my scrubs."
Addison's voice had dropped, and Miranda felt her guilt as if it was her own.
"You let it go." She whispered.
"Almost…almost too late." Addison managed, her eyes dropping to her lap. "I don't even want to think about, because…because now I know what could have happened…but they saved her. She was actually very healthy, too. The point is…I never told my husband. He was in surgery, too, so he didn't know and I never told him. I didn't want him to know. That way he would never doubt me, and I could pretend I didn't either."
"But you do?"
"I do. Not as much, but sometimes…no one can help doubt. It makes us more aware, to know what could happen. It's when we let it get to us that it becomes fatal. And I never let it get to me. Until recently."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. Well, I do." She met Miranda's probing eyes, and very plainly stated, "I'm almost four months pregnant."
This registered on Miranda's face as a strange contortion of surprise and disbelief.
"I had…no idea. Congratulations."
Addison snorted quite ungracefully.
"Well, aside from you, I, and my unborn son, no one knows." She leaned forward, resting her arms on her legs and her hands in her palms. "Because, like that day in surgery, I have been essentially ignoring it. Not carelessly so—I just haven't told anyone, including my husband." She murmured shamefully.
"Because…?"
"Because lately, I've been just barely surviving being the working mother of one, let alone two. And I'm terrified with the choices that this will force me to make."
"You mean to not have it?"
"No!" Addison exclaimed, sitting upright again. "I never even considered that. I meant more about my career. I love it. You know…it's not just a job. It's a lifestyle. And we've survived this far with our daughter, but things are different now. I just…I wish I knew. I wish I knew we could do it again."
They sat in silence for a few moments, the rhythmic beeping of Danny's monitor the only noise. Miranda eventually turned to Addison.
"What makes this any harder, in reality, then having a baby as an intern? You're both more settled in your careers, you have security…"
Addison nodded, and then sighed again.
"Yes, and to assure both of those things, my husband and I work so much that I see my daughter for three hours a day. One before she goes to school and two after before she goes to bed. I don't know how much more I can successfully divide myself up. Plus…I'm just old." She finished with a grimace.
"Old?" Miranda asked with a raised eyebrow.
"When your first thought at a missed period is early on-set menopause, you're old." Addison said with a self-deprecating smile, and both women laughed sincerely for the first time all day. After, again there was silence, but not awkward. Their bond and the circumstance had transcended normal social expectations.
"I guess…I guess we never really know." Miranda said softly, watching Danny's face again.
"Sure feels that way." Addison agreed, also watching the face of the boy, wondering what her son would look like.
"But the best we can do is not let it rule or define us. Then, we're okay."
"We're more than okay. I think we're better for it. As mothers and surgeons." She said, hoping more than anything that it was true.
Miranda hooked an eyebrow and said with a smirk, "I thought it was only interns who sit around bemusedly philosophizing about the nuances and complexities of life and medicine."
Addison heaved a sigh.
"It's been a long day."
"Meredith?"
As she emerged from the locker room, still buttoning the last claps on her shirt, Meredith jerked her head up and looked at Sadie's face, which was framed with sheets as it poked out from beneath a gurney across the hallway. She frowned, finished the buttoning job, and lowered to a squat to meet Sadie at eye level.
"What are you doing down there, kid?" she asked, tugging the sheets aside to see that Sadie had set up camp under the gurney, with a thin book clutched in her hand. The little girl wriggled out, and brushed off her skirt.
"My Dad had to go unexpectedly. I was supposed to stay in my mom's office, but I was alone so..." She quickly panicked. "Don't tell them I was out here, okay? I'm supposed to stay in my mom's office, and definitely not be on the surgical floor."
Meredith smiled, and took her hand.
"Your secret is safe. Why don't you show me to your Mom's office, though? We'll hang out there until she comes back so you're not lonely."
She figured if Bailey needed her, she'd find her. Sadie took her hand, gripping it tightly as they walked.
"You still keeping your iPod updated?" Meredith asked easily. Sadie smiled at the understood familiarity and nodded.
"Sure have. And have I got a new band for you!"
"Not another whiny emo band, right? I had enough of that with Tokyo Rose."
"No! They're great. It's Breaking Benjamin. A little hardcore for you, maybe, but they're good when you're angry." Sadie assured her seriously as they weaved through the throng of doctors, nurses, and orderlies, ignoring the curious looks.
"Okay. I'll give them a listen." Meredith agreed, not pursuing the anger comment any further yet.
"This is her office." Sadie stopped beside an imposing white door, with Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd printed evenly in blank on a grey plate.
"Nice digs. Can't say they beat hiding out under a gurney, though."
"You'd be surprised." Sadie commented darkly, darker than a child her age should be able to convey. Meredith turned to her with concern, but was interrupted when Miranda appeared beside them.
"Show and tell, Grey?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Actually, this is my friend, Sadie. You remember Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Shepherd-Montgomery's daughter?"
With that, Miranda noticeably softened.
"Ah, yes! You've gotten so big! Still such a pretty girl, though." She winked, and Sadie smiled shyly.
"Thank you."
"Did you finish your case, Dr. Bailey?" Meredith asked.
"Yes. He's stable, and should be okay. How about you?"
"The mother is okay, but we lost the baby."
"That's a shame." She took an audible breath and a marked pause, but then continued, "What's also not good is that I called our hotel and they gave away our reservation."
Meredith sighed. "We're sleeping in an on call room, aren't we?"
Sadie frowned. "Ew. I did that once. They have the worst mattresses."
Both women laughed and exchanged knowing glances.
"Why don't you call around while I wash up, Grey? See who has some openings. On call rooms will be a last resort."
"Sure." With that, Miranda disappeared in the direction of the locker room.
Meredith shrugged and turned to Sadie.
"How about some Breaking Benjamin while we call hotels?"
Sadie nodded excitedly at the new adventure.
They set up camp on the floor of Addison's office, both with a phone and phone book in hand. Sadie set up her iPod on the computer on Addison's desk, and they had the closest thing to a pajama party as they could muster.
After twenty minutes and almost twice as many refusals from hotels around Manhattan, Addison appeared in the doorway to crash their party.
"Hello, Meredith." She greeted with fatigued surprise. Meredith smiled, and tried to recover some professional dignity, awkwardly.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to overrun your office. I was just doing some business for Dr. Bailey." Addison waved it off.
"Anything I can help you with. It's an unreasonably enormous office, anyway, for the amount of time I don't spend in it." She looked down to Sadie, who was just hanging up with a Best Western. "Honey, are you ready to sleep in a real bed?"
"We going home?" Sadie asked hopefully, tinkering with the clasp on Addison's shoe.
"No…I've got to stay, and so does Dad, so you're going to go to Savvy's for tonight." Addison informed her, regret dripping from each word. There was nothing she wanted more than to take Sadie home and tuck her in at that moment. Especially when she watched her daughter's face quiver ever so slightly.
"Why can't I stay?"
"Because, Sadie, we've been over this—this is a hospital, and you can't just run around…" Addison began, easing herself to sit next to Sadie.
"I'm not! I'm with Meredith!"
Who was not looking to piss off Addison Shepherd.
So she spoke quickly, "Oh, uh, Sadie, you should really listen to your mom."
"Yes, Sadie. Meredith isn't a babysitter. She's got work to do, too." Addison continued, with an appreciative glance at Meredith.
"No she doesn't!" Sadie persisted. "Dr. Bailey just came and told her they were going to go look for a hotel once she cleaned up! They've got nothing to do!"
"But we can't very well ask her to stay at the hospital just to keep you company, can we?"
"No…she could just take me home. I could tell them how to get there." Sadie decided, beaming with pride of her easy solution.
"Sadie—Meredith and Dr. Bailey have a hotel. They have a reason for being in New York that doesn't involve you."
"But they lost their hotel reservations!"
Addison finally turned to Meredith. "Did you?"
Meredith shrugged, trying to play it down. "We were reserved for the Jolly Madison, but since we never got to check-in and so many planes were grounded and people were scrambling for rooms…"
"Have you found one yet?"
"Not yet."
"See, Mom!" Sadie prodded Addison with her hand.
"Even still…"
"I really don't want to impose, Addison. I'm sure we'll find something." Meredith scanned the book for the next call.
"But our brownstone is huge. And free." Sadie continued devilishly.
"How would you feel about staying in our house for the night, Meredith?" Addison asked suddenly. Meredith's face flushed. Bailey would kill her.
"Please, no, that would be an incredible imposition!"
"No, actually, at this point it would help. Incredibly." Addison said with a light glare at her prodding daughter.
"Well, I still…I don't want to…It's so generous…"
"Not really, just a tiny repayment for all you did for my daughter—today and last year." Addison told her meaningfully.
"Well," Meredith wasn't getting out of this. "I suppose if you really don't mind…"
"Yay!" Sadie exclaimed, bouncing to her feet.
"No, I don't. You and Dr. Bailey are welcome to utilize our house. Sadie can get you there, and show you the extra rooms." Addison assured her, standing.
"It's really nice—there's even a green room! That's her favorite color, Mom." Sadie informed Addison excitedly, who could only smile.
"Oh it is? Well then Meredith can have the green room." She checked her watch, and groaned. "I've got to do my post-ops now. Thank you, Meredith."
"No, Addison, thank you, so much."
"All right, honey, I will see you later. Take Madison when you get a cab. I put money in your bag." She kissed the dark crown of Sadie's head.
"Okay, Mom. I love you." Sadie said when she wrapped her arms around Addison's waist.
"I love you, too. Now go!" she shooed them off.
With that, Meredith and Sadie left to find Miranda.
Addison begrudgingly returned to her desk, and went to work on her post ops.
After about two hours and a lot of black coffee, when she was just wrapping up, a voice brought her from her concentration.
"Are you almost ready to go?" Derek was in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His appearance—the easy lean, the lopsided smile, the distracting eyes, and please-run-your-fingers-through-me hair--would have driven her normally to distraction. Instead, she flicked her eyes to him briefly as she leaned back and began pulling her hair up.
"Yes." He moved over the threshold, shut the door, and walked to the front of her desk.
"Can we talk?"
"Not right now. I'm tired." She rejected the ponytail, yanking it from her hair and standing, collecting things and tossing them into her bag.
"Too tired to talk?" He asked, imploring her with pointed meaning from across the desk.
"No. Too tired to fight. And that's where this is leading." With a smooth flourish, she spun around and sat on the lip of her desk with her back to him to adjust her hair in the mirror. Biting his lip, he moved around the desk.
"I just want to apologize." He began, standing in front of her and reaching for her free hand that was just about to wind into her hair.
"I don't want to hear you apologize for something you're not sorry for." She said evenly, yanking her hand away.
"Please, don't do this. Just listen, just for a minute…"
"No, Derek." She snapped, "I don't want an empty apology. If that is how you felt, that's how you felt." With that, she attempted to blow by him, but he moved quicker, effectively pinning her legs in the position and forcing her to remain seated on the desk. He rested his palms on either sides of her hips and fixed his eyes directly on hers.
"Stop telling me what I think, feel, and am or am not sorry for! Like me, you also do not know everything. So just listen." He demanded in a low voice, his eyes flashing with impatience and hers dark with frustration at the lack of escape.
"Let me up! I don't—Hello, Holly." She switched suddenly in her voice at the sight of her physician's assistant as she appeared behind Derek, but her face was still flushed. And Derek still had her pinned in a very compromising looking position.
"Hi, Dr. Shepherd, and uh, Dr. Shepherd…is this a bad time?" the petite blonde asked timidly, with a speculative look that made Derek back up and let Addison stand. She didn't know they had been fighting instead of beginning some sexual encounter, and even if she had, she would tell the nurses later that Dr. Derek Shepherd had Dr. Addison Shepherd half-naked atop that desk. Much more interesting.
Plus, the two things did appear very similar when it came to the two of them.
"Ye—," Derek began in response to her question, only to be promptly cut off by Addison.
"No. Come in." she greeted, smiling sweetly at Holly and then at Derek, who ground his teeth. Addison ignored it, and Derek begrudgingly sat in the chair behind her desk as she stood beside him.
"I just wanted to give you these final charts." Holly explained, frowning inwardly at the strange chemistry between them. Addison seemed completely placid, and Derek seemed to be seething with…something. Certainly anger. But why? Holly could only imagine.
"Let me take a look." Addison said easily, her voice free of the tension and anger of only moments before that only Derek knew about. He bristled, his anger still very near the surface. She shouldn't have been able to just go from Attack Addison to Professional Addison like the former had never even existed. It just wasn't fair.
So beyond Holly's vision, obscured by the desk, he deviously eased his chair closer to where Addison was standing and began what was a very impulsive and reckless plan.
But he couldn't help himself.
"Looks like her iron is still a little low, but I don't want to put her on…" Addison's mouth stopped moving mid-word, but she never took her eyes off of the chart. She did, however, clear her throat in subtle warning.
That didn't deter the hand that was ever so lightly drawing circles on the back of her knee. In fact, that only made it travel upward.
Addison pressed her lips together in a tight smile, and looked up deliberately into Holly's probing eyes.
"I don't…don't want her on any iron supplements yet. The clotting risk is too high. But if her iron does get too low, put her on just…" when the hand traveled just past the open lip in the slit of her skirt, she took a needed second to regroup.
"…Just two half-doses. Also, check and make sure the stitching doesn't collect any kind of congealment, either." He had lazily circled his way up the back of her thigh to the top of her stockings, tracing the edge of the lace and her skin just beyond it. Much to her chagrin and his incredible satisfaction, she involuntarily pressed her teeth into her bottom lip.
"If that happens, give her coagulants, and if it persists, page me." She concentrated on breathing. Derek's anger had evaporated. He was smiling like a devilish child getting away with something wicked.
"Okay. And should I keep the antibiotics Dr. Sloane prescribed for the facial lacerations as they are?"
"Yes." Addison managed, never averting her eyes from Holly, who, very aware of a strange standoff between the Shepherds, only nodded.
"Okay. I think that's all."
"Great. Wonderful. Page me if there's a…problem." Addison smiled a toothy smile, and Holly nodded again.
"Okay, I will. Good night, Doctors."
"Good night, Holly." Derek replied sweetly, flattening his palm against the back of Addison's thigh for what he knew was going to be his last sweep. He slid it across her skin slowly, and was just about to remove it when she whirled on him.
Expecting her to scream, slap, or do something else painful to him, Derek braced himself on the back of the chair, his mouth in a smirk.
"So, what were we talking about—,"
He didn't finish the thought, because before he could, Addison was on his lap, her hands balled in the front of his shirt dragging him forward, and her mouth taking very ruthless possession of his. He couldn't even be shocked—she immediately and fully overwhelmed his senses. The intoxicating sensation and demanding motions of her mouth against his rendered him immobile.
Eventually, he did manage to move his hands to the sides of her hips and attempt to pull her closer, but then, she very quickly extracted herself from his lap. In those few moments, she had become heated, and when her body lifted off of his, it left him cold, wanting more.
"You should know better than to start something like that without finishing." She informed him simply with an infuriatingly cool expression, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. "Are you ready to go?"
It was going to be a long night.
I was hoping that a super-long chapter would make up for my otherwise unexcuseable delay. Huh? Huh? Hopefully. Ahh well. Here it is. And more to come. Namely, the fluff I've been promising all along.
As always, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. Stick with me, and of course, tell me what you think!
And Happy Birthday M. :)