Archer was wrong.

Hiding information was, indeed, lying. And lies were never good, not even if they were used to preserve the happiness of those involved.

Lies were not an escape route or an instant solution. Lies, from the smallest and most pious ones, always attracted more lies. To sustain a lie over time, it was necessary to involve a new lie on top of it.

Lies covering lies. Lies breaking trust. Lies cracking relationships. Lies oppressing, lies condemning. Lies hurting.

Addison had always hated lies. Since she was seven years old, she had been forced to lie to Bizzy to cover up for the Captain and his lovers on multiple occasions. The first time she lied, in fact, had been her father's fault.

One afternoon after school, she had accompanied him to his practice and had stayed reading a storybook in the waiting room while he "talked" to his French teacher about his academic performance.

Addison had received a B for the first time in her life on a French exam, and she was afraid of what her parents would say when they found out about such a tragedy. Bizzy would probably be upset, as she did not accept anything less than outstanding from her children. Or well, from her daughter, actually.

"Kitten, tell Bizzy we went for ice cream," her father had said as he left through the door after about fifteen minutes. He wasn't wearing the gray jacket he had initially brought and his shirt and hair were disheveled as if he had just come out of the shower.

Addison had simply nodded, internally grateful that her father had not scolded her for that terrible grade she had obtained. That same night, with her heart about to escape from her chest, the little girl had gathered her courage and told the lie to her mother while they had dinner.

"Next time, decrease your sugar intake," Bizzy had responded, noticing her obvious bodily nervousness.

The story repeated itself the following week, but this time her father had been with her tennis coach. And then with her nanny. And also with the new nanny who came after the previous one resigned without apparent reason. And also with the secretary of his practice. And the university secretary. And a bunch of women Addison didn't even know.

As she grew up, she began to realize that her father did the least talking with them. He was a man-whore who cheated on his wife with any woman that crossed his path. But she kept covering him with ridiculous lies to protect her mother from that cruel truth that would destroy her.

And all so that, at forty-two years old, she found out that it was Bizzy who had always been lying. The unfaithful adulterer had been her, not the Captain.

Bizzy had lied about her marriage. Bizzy had pretended not to know about her husband's affairs. Bizzy had lied about her sexual orientation. Bizzy had pretended to be friends with Susan. Bizzy had lied for thirty years, and because of her lies, the family had been ruined.

Perhaps, if her entire life had not been built on lies, her mother would still be alive at that moment.

Of course, the truth would not have prevented Susan from getting cancer, but at least they would have lived their lives without having to pretend or hide. They would have had a good life together, and perhaps Bizzy would not have committed suicide.

After having spent a whole eight days in Connecticut, surrounded by incessant snow, dealing with bureaucratic matters with estate lawyers, confined to her old home with her particularly unfaithful and dishonest family, Addison had reaffirmed what she already knew: she hated lies. And she wouldn't lie.

She would tell Sam the truth. Or at least that's what she thought as she covered with makeup the mark Derek had left on her breast last week.

At first, it was an irregular dark spot that, as the days passed and with a little help from ice packs, lightened to a greenish hue. The cycle of bruises always worked like this: first black, then purple, blue, green, orange, and finally when it reached a yellowish tone, it disappeared. She had learned that in her first year of medical school. Or well, perhaps it hadn't been precisely there where she had learned it for the first time.

During her years at Yale, more than once she had to wear ridiculous scarves or excessively high collars so that people wouldn't discover the marks that the men she frequented at that time had left her. Idiots she preferred not to even remember.

And maybe she also had a crazy period with Derek where both were very interested in leaving their signature on each other's bodies. They gave themselves passionately, devouring each other with the unbridled eagerness of youth.

"You're mine," he used to whisper in her ear, panting. Derek had her straddling him. He squeezed her buttocks tightly, leaving his fingers imprinted on her skin.

"You are mine," she replied, biting his lower lip provocatively. Her legs were intertwined around his waist and her arms encircled his neck, pulling him closer.

"We'll see who belongs to who," he murmured as he trailed kisses along her neck and breasts, showering her with kisses and small bites that made her moan with pleasure.

It was fun. Bites, scratches, slaps, hickeys; their bodies were canvases where they portrayed their overflowing desire and enthusiasm. They were displays of love that sometimes bordered on cannibalism. Displays of passion and possession.

And she used to enjoy that. But now, over forty, perhaps it wasn't so fun anymore to have to cover up sexual wounds. Especially because she no longer belonged to him, nor he to her. And the mark now only reminded her that she had been unfaithful to Sam. And she had to cover it up. She didn't want him to see it and find out that way.

Anyway, it wasn't as if the hickey Derek had left on her was clearly visible. It wasn't. She needed to undress and remove her bra for it to be seen. But lately, she couldn't predict when she was going to undress in front of a man. She no longer trusted herself, so it was better to be cautious if she wanted to keep her boyfriend.

Once she finished getting ready, she went downstairs and out the back door of her house to go to Sam's. That was one of the advantages—or disadvantages—of being neighbors and coworkers with her partner: she just had to look out her window to see if he was there or not.

"Hey," Addison said, peering through Sam's glass back door. He was sitting on the living room sofa with a book in hand. It was already seven in the evening.

"Hey, I didn't know you were coming back today, when did you get here?" he asked, approaching her with a mix of confusion and annoyance on his face. He seemed far from being happy to see her again.

"A little over an hour ago..."

"I could've picked you up at the airport. Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't want to bother you..."

"Communicating is not bothering."

He wasn't just referring to that. During the last week, Addison hadn't answered any of his calls, let alone his text messages. The first few days, her inbox was full of notifications from him, but as the week went by, there were fewer and fewer. He was annoyed.

"Sam..."

"It's okay. I know communication's not your strong suit," he said with a small sarcastic laugh. Perhaps he was even more upset than she imagined.

"I'm sorry. I needed a break."

"A break from me?"

"Yes. I mean, no," she quickly corrected herself, "a break from everyone. I needed to be alone. I needed some peace after everything I've been through these past few weeks. I'm sorry. I...," she paused to take a deep breath, "I need to talk to you."

"I can't right now."

"It's... it's important... please."

"Okay. Talk then."

Addison opened her mouth to say what she had been hiding for days, but for some reason, no words came out of her lips. It was as if a knot had tangled her vocal cords and didn't allow the sound to escape.

Sam looked at her with a raised eyebrow, was he mocking her? Was he thinking of a good excuse to justify the fact that she had ignored him for a whole week?

"What's wrong, Addison?" he said impatiently.

She still didn't answer. Telling the truth was much harder than lying.

"It's a shame that in real life there isn't a button to end a muted conversation," Sam said ironically after a while of silence.

"Sam... I...," she murmured, her voice choked, "I'm sorry...," her eyes filled with tears, forcing her to make an effort not to let them fall.

Sam didn't seem to have heard the last thing she said. He simply looked at his phone screen and walked straight to the coat rack by the exit door, looking for a coat.

"Have to leave now. Maya needs me to pick her up. Family first, right? Excuse me."

~•~

Maybe Addison was right.

Maybe Derek didn't know how to be alone.

And maybe that was because his entire life he had lived with someone.

His childhood was spent in a chaotic house full of women, where peace, silence, and sometimes privacy were abstract concepts unknown to him with so many sisters. His adolescence was quite similar, with the small difference that, during those years, there was another woman in his life, his first girlfriend, Betty.

When Christopher died, one of his most valuable possessions passed on to Derek: his acoustic guitar. That old guitar that he used to gather all his children on special occasions in the living room. Birthdays, parties, Christmases, Thanksgivings, holidays. They always gathered as a family to joyfully sing their favorite songs by the fireplace. His father had promised him that the guitar would be his one day to continue that family tradition. And so it was. Unfortunately, many years sooner than he or anyone could have imagined.

Derek took on the responsibility of continuing his father's legacy and, in his free time, began teaching himself how to play the guitar. At first, he only played basic chords, but over time he started learning complete songs and even creating his own. He did quite well and, encouraged by Carolyn and her desire to show off her son's innate talent, he joined the school band in his third year. There, in one of the long afternoons of rehearsals in the music room, he met Betty.

She played the saxophone as he had never seen anyone before. It seemed like she was born with a special gift for music. Watching her little fingers slide delicately and precisely over the keys of the instrument had captured Derek's heart. To see her more often, he had asked her to teach him to play the saxophone outside of school hours, and she had agreed. She was a good companion. With that excuse, he had managed to spend more time with her until he asked her out.

They were both fifteen when they started dating, and, like any teenager in love, he thought she would be the love of his life. However, destiny had other plans for them. Betty left for Belgium to continue her university studies in jazz, while Derek –and Mark, of course– headed to Bowdoin College's residence in Maine.

Despite the distance and the time difference, they tried to keep their relationship alive. In the beginning, they called each other once or twice a day, then once a week, and then once or twice a month until circumstances irreversibly separated them.

By the end of the first semester of classes –and just three months after breaking up with Betty– Derek had already met his second girlfriend, Sarah.

That year, Mark and Derek had joined the basketball team as part of the sports program at Bowdoin College. They had an intense routine that included daily training, structured practices, and competitions in leagues like the NCAA.

Saturdays were competition days. Teams from other universities would come to Bowdoin's campus to compete in collegiate tournaments, and it was in one of those games that Derek met Sarah.

She was studying sports journalism at the University of Southern Maine in Portland, and one of her passions was photography. She would bring her small DSLR camera to the tournaments every Saturday to cover them for her university newspaper, and Derek would discreetly watch her while playing.

He was captivated by her curly hair and radiant smile, hidden behind the camera lens that seemed to have a special sensor to capture the players' best movements. Nothing escaped her camera. Her shots were always perfect.

After one of the games, Derek approached Sarah to thank her for being there and taking those amazing photos. They began to talk on their way to the locker rooms and discovered that, despite belonging to two completely different universities, they had a lot in common.

Both shared a passion for basketball, music, and nature. Sarah loved spending time outdoors and hiking in the mountains. In fact, the next day, she would be climbing Mount Katahdin and asked Derek if he would like to join her. He was immediately attracted to Sarah's lively personality and independent spirit and accepted her invitation.

Over the following weeks, they started dating. Their relationship was intense and passionate. They spent hours talking about their dreams, goals, and passions. He admired Sarah's determination and focus on her career, while she was inspired by Derek's dedication and commitment to medicine.

They were together for almost four years, until one day, while still in their final semester at Bowdoin, Derek received an acceptance letter from Columbia University in New York.

Since he was a child, he had always dreamed of studying medicine at one of the country's most prestigious universities like Columbia. He wanted to become a renowned surgeon, and he would do whatever it took to achieve it.

But Sarah was not willing to move from Maine for him, and he was not willing to give up on Columbia. So after a long conversation filled with tears and sadness, they decided that the best thing for both of them was to part ways and move forward with their lives. At the end of the semester, Derek –and Mark, who had also been accepted there– traveled to New York.

In August of 1989, five months after ending things with Sarah, Derek began medical school. And it was there, in Gross Anatomy class –just as the ridiculous song he once wrote at age twenty-seven says– where he met Addison while dissecting a cadaver.

He didn't quite know why, but when he saw those bright eyes meet his for the first time, he knew he would marry her.

Addison always stood out among the rest. Not only because of her striking reddish hair –which Derek was in love with– but also because of her intelligence and insight. Her empathy, her special sensitivity, her charisma, her unique sense of humor.

Her beauty was as dazzling as her wit and skill with surgical instruments. She was the daughter of a renowned surgeon and professor of neurology, she grew up surrounded by luxury and opulence, enjoying a privileged life that many envied.

She belonged to a world that, for a middle-class person like Derek who had to sacrifice all his life to get what he wanted, seemed unattainable.

However, despite all the opinions against it from his family, he never stopped believing that he would marry her. And he did.

A few months after graduating and starting his first year of surgical residency, Derek proposed to Addison, and a year later, on a sunny spring afternoon in 1994, they got married.

The party was more than perfect. It was a fairytale come true organized by Bizzy. Addison looked stunning in her white dress, with delicate lace and a long veil softly falling down her back. He, on the other hand, looked impeccable in an elegant dark suit, with a radiant smile that reflected all the love he felt for his future wife.

That day, Derek dusted off Christopher's old guitar and, with a few drinks in his system, sang a song he had written for Addison in front of everyone, showing them that she was and had always been the love of his life.

They lived together for eleven long years in a marriage that was wonderful at first, but over time began wearing down, becoming in the last years a depressing relationship victim to routine, lack of communication, and disinterest. And everyone knows why –or who– it ended.

Two weeks after dramatically fleeing New York, Derek met Meredith one night in Joe's bar. She was the opposite of Addison, and perhaps that was what caught his attention the most.

Meredith was like a breath of fresh air amid a storm. She was the hope that, despite everything that had happened, he could start over again. Meredith was a spark of youth and fun that he hadn't had in his life for a long time.

He had been seeing her for almost two months until Addison flew to Seattle and moved into the trailer with him. They spent another year together in a catastrophic coexistence in the forest, trying in vain to save their marriage.

In total, twelve years came to an end with two signatures on a paper...

A few weeks after their divorce, he got back together with Meredith and they were a couple –this time officially– for two unstable years. Then they broke up. And then they were together for another three years.

In that brief separation that lasted a few months, Derek dated Rose.

Rose was a nurse who had always been in Derek's operating rooms, but he had never noticed her. Ashamed of his arrogant attitude, he started talking to her to get to know her better, and over time they became friends.

Both had a failed romantic past that was haunting them. Derek had just broken up with Meredith because she didn't have the maturity or interest to be in a serious relationship, and Rose, on the other hand, had broken up with her fiancé of several years a year ago because they wanted different things.

His relationship with Rose progressed very slowly. They went on five dates before having sex because they wanted to wait until their feelings were serious. And it was for her, but not for him. Rose fell in love with Derek, but he had never stopped loving Meredith. Not when he saw her every day in their first clinical trial together to remove brain tumors.

He dated Rose for a few weeks, but after saving his first patient in the clinical trial, he and Meredith kissed. Derek realized that the only person he wanted to celebrate that achievement with was her, with his trial partner and the one he believed was the love of his life. That same night, after the kiss, he abruptly broke up with Rose.

He was with Meredith for another three years. They got married with their vows written on a post-it. They moved in together again. He became chief of the hospital, he was shot and almost lost his life. They lost a baby they didn't even know they wanted. They started fertility treatment in search of another baby and it didn't work out because she had a hostile uterus. They started thinking about adoption. They started building their dream house on Derek's land outside the city. They started planning what their ideal life would be together with their family.

But none of that would happen anyway, because they broke up again. And, because of the severity of Meredith's actions, he had no interest in getting back with her. Never. He couldn't forgive her for ruining his clinical trial like that, for betraying his trust, for lying, and for playing with the lives of people with Alzheimer's.

And finally, just a month after that breakup, Derek slept with Addison.

Betty, Sarah, Addison, Meredith, Rose, Meredith, Addison. Maybe Addison was right, he thought. He had been with someone for at least twenty-eight –almost uninterrupted– years.

Maybe he really didn't know how to be alone, and coming to that conclusion, far from comforting him, created new concerns.

~•~

Nine days had passed.

Nine days since Bizzy had passed away. Nine days since the last time Addison had been at the practice. It hadn't even been two full weeks, but it felt like an eternity after everything that had happened.

Perhaps another person would have taken more days off to process the grief, but why would she do that? She didn't even have a close relationship with her mother. Or with any of her relatives. She only took the necessary days off to handle pending paperwork and then return to her work. To her everyday life.

The night before, Sam had gone to pick up Maya and Olivia –or at least that's what he had said he would do–, and Addison returned to her house in silence, discreetly wiping away the tears that had escaped her eyes at that failed attempt to tell Sam the truth.

She felt guilty for not being honest with him, but she was also afraid of facing the possible consequences of revealing the truth. The mere possibility of losing him, of him rejecting or judging her for what she had done filled her heart with anguish and desperation. The idea of disappointing the person who had managed to understand and accept her despite her controversial past tore her apart inside.

"Hey..." Sam said, approaching her in the main lobby. It was the first time they had spoken since the day before.

"Hey..." she half-smiled.

"You okay?" he asked, concerned by the dark circles under her eyes.

Yes, she had been crying all night until she fell asleep. The weight of the lie overwhelmed her and made tears flow uncontrollably from her eyes.

"I'm fine," Addison murmured, avoiding his gaze as she received the medical records and patient files from the new practice secretary.

Clearly, she was not like Dell, because she didn't even bother to see her teary eyes. Oh, great. Maybe she would cry now because Dell was no longer there. Lately, everything seemed to trigger tears.

"Hey, hi Sam. Who's the new girl?" Cooper said, approaching them.

"It's only been a few days, Coop..." Addison smiled, walking towards the kitchen.

"Hey, hi. Seems longer?" Pete said, joining them.

"Yeah. I hit a wall with The Captain and Archer..." she said, taking a green cup from the pantry to make herself some chamomile tea. Maybe that would calm the stomach ache she was feeling.

"Well, that makes sense," Pete said.

"I can see that..." Cooper added.

Addison gave a small smile and her eyes filled with tears again. Seriously? What was happening to her today?

The presence of her colleagues had moved her. With all the events that had occurred in her life in the past nine days, maybe she hadn't properly appreciated the fact that her coworkers had traveled to the other side of the country just to be with her.

"I-I know it wasn't easy for you guys either, but so you know, I... uh… I appreciate it..." Addison's voice started to choke up with tears. "Oh. Sorry. I'm sorry. Ignore this. Ever since Bizzy died, this has just been happening, so... I'm fine. Ignore me..."

No, she wasn't fine, but she hated showing weakness in front of people.

"You don't know who showed up... Oh, Addison..." Naomi walked in through the door and was surprised to find her friend there. She didn't know that she had returned. "I'm sorry..."

"I'm fine," Addison quickly said before she could ask, "It's transient tears. Who... who showed up? Spill."

"Um... okay... Fife."

"Hey! How's he doing?" Sheldon asked.

"Uh, he's exactly the same," Naomi smiled.

"Snarky, aggressive, self-involved?" Pete asked ironically.

"Pretty much," Naomi replied.

"Well, it's not that bad," Sheldon added.

"Yeah, I didn't realize how much I had missed him," Naomi smiled.

"Well, he certainly caught you in the right mood..." Addison muttered and quickly realized what she had said. "Sorry, the bitchiness, it comes with the tears. I can't control it..."

"Addison, if you wanna talk about Archer..." Naomi said quietly so the others wouldn't hear.

Yes, in fact, they could talk about how Naomi had slept with her brother –the day after their mother's funeral, minutes before the burial, and how she had found out because she had made the repeated mistake of not knocking before opening Archer's room door–, but that was nothing compared to what she had done almost at the same time with Derek. So no. She didn't want to lecture her for sleeping with her ex in a vulnerable situation when she had done the same thing.

"No, I wanna talk about Fife. So, did it stir up old feelings for you?" Addison asked, immediately regretting saying that stupid phrase.

Stir up old feelings? Really? It was she who had a churning stomach from stirring up old feelings.

"No, it's… you know, too early to tell. I don't know. You know… Maybe..." Naomi laughed.

"I understand..."

And she did.

"Hey, lady! Welcome back," Charlotte exclaimed entering the kitchen.

"Thank you..." Addison smiled.

"I was about to call you. I have a patient who came to the hospital looking for you this morning."

"Fancy..." Naomi said.

"Oh, they wanted you too," Charlotte said, looking at her.

"What's the issue?" Addison asked.

~•~

Perhaps Addison was right, Derek kept thinking.

Perhaps he really didn't know how to be alone and that's why he jumped from relationship to relationship to avoid loneliness or dealing with the problems of a breakup.

Perhaps he had slept with Addison because he couldn't stand being alone or because he wanted to forget what he had done to Meredith. Perhaps it had just been a stupid act of distraction. Because it was always easier to start over with someone else than to fix previous problems.

Perhaps he had also done it because he knew she would be the only one who would always accept him, despite everything. She was a guaranteed receiver, a safe move, an easy play. Or well, that's what she had said. Not exactly in those words, but she had implied something like that.

But there was also the possibility that the situation was even more serious and he really was feeling something for Addison again...

Because he was indeed feeling something. It wasn't as if Addison had been less attractive in the last years of their marriage, but he didn't remember being desperate for her cleavage, to the point of not being able to think of anything else, for years. He felt like a teenager.

She occupied the majority of his thoughts. The images of that night in Connecticut repeated over and over in his head. Her flushed cheeks, her red hair tousled falling below her shoulders. The gentle touch of her lips, the way they melted into a passionate kiss. Her little sighs and giggles. Her hands exploring every corner of his body.

She was, undeniably, more attractive. And maybe...

"Be careful, the lion is approaching! Quick Derek, run!" Mark exclaimed, abruptly interrupting his thoughts. They were both heading to the hospital nursery with Sofia before starting the day.

"What?" Derek turned confused.

"Watch out for the monkeys!" he said, pointing to the drawings on the walls of the hallway, which were decorated with illustrations of wild animals. "Oo-oo, ah-ah! Oo-oo, ah-ah!" he imitated the sound of a chimpanzee, making the baby laugh.

Derek remained puzzled. Since he had returned from Connecticut, he always seemed to be in a dissociated reality. A reality where Addison was present most of the time in his head.

"I didn't get it," he said after a while. Mark had already left the little girl with one of the daycare teachers.

"Forget it, it was a joke for Sofia," he said while pressing the elevator button, "What's wrong with you today?"

"Why?"

"Because of your face. What happened?"

Derek shook his head.

"You think I don't know how to be alone?"

"Nobody knows."

The elevator doors opened and they both entered. Derek sighed and unconsciously pressed the number four on the panel.

"Why the fourth floor?" Mark looked puzzled.

"What?"

"Plastics and neuro are on the third floor, why did you press the fourth floor?"

On the fourth floor were the pediatric pavilion, obstetrics/gynecology, and the neonatal intensive care unit. Most of Derek's patients didn't frequent those places, so he didn't usually be on that floor.

"Oh... Are you thinking about Addison again?"

"No."

Of course, he was thinking about her. When she worked at that hospital, he visited the fourth floor much more often than he currently did.

"I can't believe it's been a week and you haven't called Addison, what are you waiting for?" Mark complained, pressing the number three.

"I'm not gonna do it. She won't answer," he couldn't be sure of that, but he hadn't dared to try. He still felt very embarrassed about how he had called her.

"Then send her a text. Whether she responds or not, she'll read it."

"I can't."

"Just tell her: hey Addison, sorry for calling you a whore. I'm an idiot. I accidentally took your bra, I'm sorry for being a damn thief. When can I give it back?"

"I'm not going to see her again."

"So you're keeping the stolen piece. Okay, that's fine. Each one chooses their own object to masturbate," he laughed.

The people in the elevator looked at them. Derek just raised his eyebrows resignedly and left once the doors opened on the third floor. He was no longer surprised by that kind of inappropriate comments in public. Living with Mark was like that, a tasteless joke every three words.

"Just tell her that you love her, that you're sorry, and that you wanna see her again."

"I don't love her and I don't want to see her again. It was just one night of alcohol, nostalgia, and confusion."

"Was it just that?"

"Yes."

"Then why can't you stop thinking about her?"

"I'm not thinking about her. I'm thinking about the two-inches-meningioma of the patient I'm gonna operate on in an hour. I have to check if the pre-surgical has started," he stopped at the door of his patient's room, "Excuse me?"

"Addison will never be just a one-night encounter for you. Just... just send her a message," he said walking away.

~•~

The salty taste of tears had already become one more ingredient in Addison's meals. Since the previous night, she hadn't been able to control her stupid tear ducts, and they would flood now and then, mixing with whatever she ate or drank.

First, it had been because of Sam, which was completely justified. The guilt of not being honest with him continued to torture her.

Then, of course, it was Bizzy. Because every time she remembered that she was dead and she would never see her again, the tears would start falling on their own down her cheeks.

Then she cried for the Pietz's baby, the case that Charlotte had brought from St. Ambrose and that she had been busy with all day alongside Naomi. Isabelle was forty-two years old and seven months pregnant. Her baby had been diagnosed with left heart syndrome in the womb, so it would inevitably die within a few days of being born.

That baby had been the last embryo the couple had. After several years of intensive fertility treatments, that baby had been their only and last miracle. Knowing this, Isabelle asked Addison to perform an experimental procedure, treating the baby's ovaries with hormones to mature the eggs and extract them to be used when she wanted to get pregnant again, this time using an anonymous donor.

At first, she and Naomi were against it. Addison refused to torture a poor baby who would only live for a few hours just to fulfill the whims of her parents. But then she thought of herself and cried again.

She understood the Pietz's feelings. She had a lot in common with Isabelle: both were over forty and had fertility issues. Both had prioritized their professional growth and had "waited too long" to become mothers. When they finally felt ready to do so, their bodies said otherwise.

And that made her cry and think of Derek -again- and the number of times they had postponed having children. At the beginning of their relationship, it was crazy to have a baby in medical school, they were too young for that responsibility. Then, during residency, it was impossible. How could they take care of a child if they barely had time to sleep between daily rounds and shifts of over 24 consecutive hours?

Then, each one wanted to specialize in their field and pave their way. It wasn't the right time. They knew they were close, but... It simply wasn't anymore. And it never would be.

Although she had accepted it a few years ago, it still hurt. It still made her cry about the fact that she couldn't have a baby on her own. After talking to Isabelle and her husband Frank, Addison agreed to do the surgery, but not until after the baby was born in a few weeks.

All the previous times had been justified reasons to cry, but now she was simply crying because she was having bitter coffee. And she didn't like bitter coffee, but there was no sweetener in the kitchen.

And that was depressing. It was as if happiness had really ended and now she had to live in a new bitter reality.

"You gonna do something?" Sheldon asked, approaching Sam in the hallway. Both were watching Addison cry in the distance.

"I don't know..." he replied after a while.

"Well, I want a banana. You know, it's customary for the boyfriend to offer comfort in this situation."

"Well, it seems like my comfort is not always comforting."

"Well, sometimes you have to plow through."

"And sometimes you just need to avoid..." Sam muttered, walking away.

Sheldon sighed irritably and walked to the kitchen in search of a banana. At first, he thought about walking past the hallway and ignoring Addison on his way. If Sam wasn't going to do anything about it, neither was he. She wasn't his partner, nor his close friend, in fact, he hadn't even gone to the funeral in Connecticut with the others. He was tired of solving other people's girlfriend problems, of being the non-boyfriend who had to take care of them while their real boyfriends made no effort to help.

He had said he wouldn't interfere in the practice's relationships anymore, but at that moment, seeing her there so fragile and alone, that psychologist inside him made him stop and offered her a tissue from his pocket. It was the least he could do for a person crying, right?

"Oh... thank you," Addison smiled shyly and blew her nose, filling that piece of fabric that Sheldon had given her with snot.

"Oh, keep it," he quickly responded when he saw that she wanted to give it back. "Really."

"Oh. I'm okay. I mean, it's not like we were close or anything," she said, referring to Bizzy.

"Well, sometimes that makes it harder. When the relationship was good and there are no unresolved issues, nothing is left unsaid."

"But it's not like anything's even setting this off. I'm crying because we're out of sweetener. I mean, it's like my tear ducts are acting on their own. I just... I just want it to be over," she sighed exhausted.

"Grief has its own timeline..." he said, walking away.

"Wait, wait, wait. What does that mean?"

"Well, you can't get off till the ride stops."

~•~

Sheldon was right.

You can't get off until the ride stops.

And if she wanted to get off, she had to start stopping it.

But how was she supposed to do that? She didn't know how to stop problems. She only knew how to sink into them until she drowned.

Maybe she had inherited that from Bizzy too. Maybe, in the end, she let desperation win, just like her.

They weren't so different after all. Both were unfaithful, both were passionate, both would move heaven and earth for the person they loved. And both of their lives fell apart when they lost them.

Maybe if they had just had one conversation –a decent conversation and not one camouflaged by the language of flowers and passive-aggressive comments– maybe, just maybe, everything would be different.

Perhaps she wouldn't be alone that night in front of the sea with a nearly empty bottle of red wine, and a cat curled up in her legs listening to her cry in silence while her life was in chaos.

"Look, I know you told everybody not to mention the tears, but really?" Amelia said, walking through the back door, causing Addison to turn to look at her. "It freaks me out!"

"Well, now, I… I'm actually crying because my mother killed herself."

"Well, that does not freak me out…" Amelia said, sitting down beside her.

"There are so many times that I wished she'd just disappeared... now I would give anything for one more conversation. Just one more chance to talk to her..."

"What would you say to her?"

Addison paused to think. It could be so many things...

"There's nothing trashy about twirling the baton... "

"What?" Amelia raised an eyebrow, not sure if she heard correctly.

"When I was ten... the uniforms were cute and the batons were sparkly, and what the hell did it matter anyway? But Bizzy said no. Actually, she said,"'Over my dead body'".

"So... should I get you a baton?"

Both laughed. Addison missed this. Laughing. Making jokes. Mocking the reality she had.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Amelia asked after a while.

"I'm fine..."

"The problem is you're always "fine." You have to allow yourself not to be, Addie. You have the right not to be. You have the right to cry for your mother."

Addison simply smiled through tears.

"I'll be fine..."

At that moment, Addison's phone rang on the table, causing both to turn. A new message had entered her inbox.

"Oh, is it from the hospital? I'm not on duty," she said, taking a sip of wine. Of course she wasn't, the last thing she could do at that moment was deliver a baby.

Amelia, who was closer to the device, picked it up and looked at the screen.

"It's... it's my brother," she said confused, looking up at her. "He says he's sorry. Why is he apologizing?"

At that precise moment, Addison's heart stopped for a moment. The hand holding the wine glass froze in the air, while her eyes widened to hear those words coming from her sister's mouth. The blood seemed to have left her face, leaving it completely pale.

"What happened between you and Derek?"