Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is still not mine. Neither is the title of this chapter, which is the first line of a famous poem, The Daffodils, by William Wordsworth.

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update, and I'm sorry this chapter is so pathetically short. I had a 103 degree fever for most of a week, and now I have to study for exams extra hard since I'm a week behind because I was sick. I don't love this chapter (I really liked the last chapter), but I do have a favorite line in it. Have any guesses? Incase you can't guess, though that seems unlikely, it is when Addison tells Sloan, "I'm pretty sure that is considered assault." Oh, and before I say anything else… I've broken 2,700 hits. Yay! I also want to thank everybody who reviewed…you're amazing. Please, please, please review. If you do, there are cookies…plus, reviews make me write faster! Plus, since I have exams all of next week, unless I get a lot of reviews (or absolutely need a break), you probably won't get another update until next Monday at the earliest.

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

Addison looked at the real estate brochure she had sent away for as she sat alone in the cafeteria, a partially uneaten salad in front of her. Halfheartedly she circled another listing with red marker, and glanced around her, hoping that she would see somebody who would sit with her. When she had been married to Derek, she had sat with him at lunch. Now, however, most of the time she sat alone.

Growing up, Addison hadn't been able to understand why her classmates made such a big deal over who they sat with at lunch. A self-declared band geek, Addison had always been content to sit with her friends, even if they were considered "weird" by the kids who were currently popular; she fundamentally couldn't understand why there was so much anxiety over something as stupid as lunch seats. Even when she got older and outgrew her awkward childhood, she still couldn't understand why it was such a big deal. She had always been sure of her place in society, and she had always had friends. In Seattle, she knew nobody outside of the hospital, and had even fewer friends.

Now, as she sat in the cafeteria, over a dozen eyes staring at her, gossiping about her and not caring that she noticed, Addison understood why people felt such feelings of anxiety. Pretending not to mind, she read to real estate ads until, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Miranda, Callie and Sloan enter. Addison looked at Miranda hopefully, but received a glare—Bailey was still mad at her for her treatment of Izzie, which had been made worse when she requested that Izzie to be put on her service. She knew that this was a foolish thing to do, that it would lead to people believing that Izzie could only function under her, but until people began accepting that Stevens was a good intern, she couldn't really see the harm.

Pretending not to care that Bailey was mad at her, Addison circled another listing (this one had a pool, though that was hardly necessary—or useful—in Seattle), but jumped when somebody placed a hand on her back.

"Is anybody sitting here?" Mark asked, gesturing to the seat next to Addison. With the hand not holding the tray, Mark began to massage her back, before she pulled away, outraged.

"Yes," she said shortly.

"Really? Because you looked all alone and lonely and in use of some company…" Mark drawled as Addison picked up her fork as if she was going to start eating and he was getting in the way. She hoped that not everybody knew she was lonely—she hated being pitied even more than she hated being hated or gossiped about.

"Somebody is sitting there, Mark. Just go away," she snapped, unconsciously brandishing her fork as if it were a sword, to the obvious amusement of those watching her.

"Addie…" he began, trying to remain charming and seductive and not at all hurt, "We could both use the company. You're really, really good company, you know that?" Mark held his tray with one hand as he put his hand on her shoulder, massaging it, each rub going farther down her chest. Had she not been in a public place, Addison would have slapped him, yelled at him, or said something crude about him…possibly all three. Instead she satisfied herself with squirming out of his grasp and hitting his hand more than lightly and in a way that could be mistaken by absolutely nobody as sexual.

"I'm pretty sure that is considered assault," she informed him, her eyes ablaze.

"I'm sorry, just let me sit down, Addison," Mark half-pleaded. His face looked genuinely injured, and Addison (though she was not at all sorry for her actions and furious at Mark) felt herself begin to cave. She had seen Mark genuinely hurt enough times to know what it looked like and, to Addison's relief, horror, pleasure and confusion, Mark looked really rather upset. Though she hated Mark, she didn't like to think that she had hurt somebody—especially somebody who she had considered to be one of her best friends for so many years.

"Actually, somebody is sitting there," Callie said, putting her tray down next to Addison's, and quickly sitting down in the available chair. Callie raised her eyebrows at him, and he glared at her, defeated, before he walked away to sit with another plastic surgeon who he had gotten to know.

"Thank you," Addison said gratefully.

Callie smiled at Addison. "You looked like you needed my help," she responded, as she unopened her soda.

"More than I'll ever admit," Addison grumbled, "Sloan can just be so…infuriating." Callie gave her a look that clearly meant tell me something I don't know, and began to eat. More than slightly embarrassed by Sloan's behavior, Addison flipped absently through the brochure. Suddenly a house caught her eye. "Three bedrooms, four baths, kitchen, pantry, living room, dining room, den, library—what exactly is the difference between a den and a library, anyhow?—not to mention the grounds. It's beautiful, look at it!" Addison exclaimed, for the first time enthusiastic about a house that she had seen.

Callie examined the brochure carefully, before speaking hesitantly. "It's beautiful, but what are you going to do with so many rooms?" Seeing the price, Callie spoke without meaning too, "You can afford that?" she asked, slightly amazed. Having realized what she said, Callie looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry," she muttered.

"No, it's okay. I can afford it easily, but you're right, I guess…I'm just not used to living alone. Before now I've never had to buy a house that was going to be just for me. It's more practical to get an apartment, I know, but I just can't bring myself to live in an apartment, not after the brownstone in New York…" Addison trailed off, lost in thought. "Why didn't you buy a house or something? After Richard kicked you out of the hospital?" she asked.

"I have money, but not enough to buy a place that I really like without going into some debt," Callie said truthfully. "In a few years I should have enough. It's silly, I know, but I don't want to buy a place that I don't love. It's ironic that the girl who had no problem living in a hospital can't bring herself to live in a place she doesn't love, right?"

Addison shrugged. "A little," she admitted, and they sat in silence for a moment.

"Plus, as long as I live in the hotel everything seems like it is on hold. In the hotel, I don't have to believe that I'm no longer with the man I love. I don't have to move on."

"Yeah," Addison agreed, "I know that feeling." Addison sighed loudly, as did Callie. She hated to admit it, but what Callie just said was the exact reason why she was still living in a hotel and hadn't moved out months ago. Now even more resolved to move out of the hotel, Addison stared at the house that had caught her eye. "Maybe I'll get a roommate?" she wondered aloud. It was kind of silly to have a roommate when she didn't need one for financial reasons, but the house was really too big and, besides, she had never lived alone before.

Callie looked at Addison in amazement and stifled a laugh. When Addison demanded to know what was funny, Callie just smiled and said, "I just can't really picture you with a roommate, that's all."

Trying to picture herself with a roommate, Addison had to smile. The image seemed absurd, yet somehow soothing. "You know, Callie, you might just be wrong about that," Addison warned as she picked up her blackberry to call the number listed below the house. A few minutes later she had set up an appointment to visit the house for later in the week.

Addison stared absently at a full glass of beer, absently playing with a piece of hair, completely unaware of the noise and action going on around her. "You okay?" Joe asked her, startling her.

"Yeah," she responded without taking her eyes off of the glass.

"Are you sure?" Joe questioned, slightly concerned. He hadn't seen Addison this contemplative since the day she had taken off from work after she had realized that she was going to be divorced. Actually, he wasn't sure if he had ever seen her quite this contemplative—before she had gotten drunk so quickly that by midmorning she was more raw emotions than anything else. Joe liked nearly everybody who entered his bar, but he had a special place for Addison, who was so clearly trying her hardest to work her way out of a bad position.

Addison sighed loudly, and looked up at Joe. "I bought a house," she said, as if this explained everything. Bailey, who had been sitting next to Addison silently, looked up, her eyes questioning.

"That's great!" Joe exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I know," Addison replied glumly. She knew she should be ecstatic, knew she should be thrilled that she was now the owner of a house and no longer had to live in a hotel. It had all been too easy, really. She had gone to see the house, still loved it, made a bid, and it had been accepted within the week. She had paid less than she had expected to, and there had been no hassle involved. It had been the ideal house-buying experience, yet, now that she owned the house, she didn't want to move. The hotel had become her safe haven, the place where she went to escape from the real world. "Why can't I just be happy?" she questioned softly, more to herself than to Joe or Miranda.

To her surprise, Miranda leaned towards Addison and hugged her briefly. "It'll all be okay," she told Addison, who tried to glare at her, but really succeeded in looking sad instead of angry.

"People always say that. People have got to stop saying that."

"Hey, I never said it would be easy, or pleasurable," Bailey informed Addison sternly. "I said you'll be okay, which you will." She didn't bother to question why buying a house had gotten Addison worked up into such a state, instead jumping to the core of the problem. "You're doing the right thing, Addison, even if it might not be the easiest thing."

"I know," Addison responded.

They sat in silence for several minutes until finally, overcome with curiosity, Bailey asked, "You bought a house? I didn't know that…when are you moving?"

Addison stared at Bailey in disbelief. "Not helping," Addison chided, but didn't wait for Miranda to apologize (or not, since after all it was Miranda she was dealing with) before continuing. "I found the house a few weeks ago, looked at it, bought it, and now can move into it in about a month." Not feeling in any mood to talk, Addison took a large sip of beer, and then went back to staring at the (still almost full) glass. Miranda left after a few minutes to go home, and Addison remained alone.

She wasn't aware of how much time had passed, wasn't aware that the bar was practically empty now. "Are you going to drink that?" Joe finally asked Addison, referring to the full glass of beer she was still staring at.

Addison shook her head, and Joe reclaimed his glass. "What time is it, Joe?" she asked.

"Two," he replied, and she cursed. "I'm almost ready to close. I was going to tell you the time at midnight, but you looked like you didn't want to be disturbed."

"Yeah," she muttered, as she looked around the bar to see who was still there. There was a young couple she didn't recognize, and a few people she recognized from the hospital that she had never spoken to and only knew by sight. Grateful that nobody she knew was there, Addison picked up her blackberry and called for a cab. Within a half hour she was at the hotel, and another twenty minutes later she was lying in bed.

Addison lay there with the light off for a while before she glanced at the clock, which read four o'clock. She turned onto her side and grabbed one of the pillows from the other side of the bed, hugging it as if it were a person. Squeezing her eyes shut, and reminding herself that she had to be up in only a few hours, Addison tried to empty her mind of all emotion until, eventually, she was able to fall asleep.