Archive of Our Own

The first time she felt it, it took her a while for reality to sink in. She was seventeen, alone in the school library studying for her finals when a sudden, overwhelming panic gripped at her. The tightness in her chest, the uncontrollable desire to run settled in over her skin. It was all consuming and yet foreign to her.

She didn’t care how foolish she looked, abandoning her textbooks, and fleeing out the main doors in favour of getting some air. She’d experienced panic attacks before, but never something like this. She did everything she knew how to do, but the inescapable need to flee clawed at her still.

Eventually the feeling began to fade, settling into a low hum that rumbled across her skin. The worry and the fear remained, but she was able to breathe again. It had been over an hour of pacing around outside, waiting for whatever had brought on this intense fear to go away before she felt like she could walk back through those doors again.

Her things remained where she had left them, her words half-finished in her notebook. She didn’t care that she had left everything strewn and abandoned here for far too long. She was done for the night, anyway. Whatever it was that was making her feel this way was here to stay, fading into the background of her movements as she carefully collected her things.

The second time she felt it, she was sure that she was wrong. It was this itching feeling of dread that crept up on her. For a moment, she thought that it was just her own anxiety making her so worried over nothing as it usually did. But it was strange, the way this felt. It was as though it was screaming at her from far away.

She didn’t believe in the old tales, of soulmates and true love and bonds. But she still rushed to check on Derek anyway. He said he was working late, as he always did these days. But everything was fine, and he’d be home later that night.

Maybe it was the fact that someone else’s fear was playing at the edges of her mind, but she couldn’t stop her mind from jumping to conclusions. Derek was a good man. Derek wouldn’t hurt her.

But the clock ticked past midnight, and still her husband didn’t return home.

She knew then, thanks to this new feeling, that whatever it was that was scratching at the back of her neck, it wasn’t her own. And it wasn’t Derek’s, either.

The third time the now familiar, yet strange feeling crept in, it wasn’t dread, or worry or fear that crept up within her. It was joy. Nerves and excitement bubbled up within her. She surged forward, flying high on the adrenaline she knew didn’t belong to her, and kissed a man that wasn’t her husband.

In retrospect, it was probably what fooled her into thinking that what she was doing with Mark was okay. She was high on someone else’s joy – it wasn’t Mark’s, nor Derek’s, just some stranger she hadn’t met yet – and it fizzed up within her and caused her to make the biggest mistake of her life.

She had come to recognise this stranger’s feelings, whenever they crept up now and then. This stranger, whoever they were, they weren’t exactly the happiest person she had come across in her life.

Though, she supposed, as she sat alone in a doctor’s office, her legs high in stirrups and her stomach twisting in knots, it felt nice to not be so alone in that room, her soulmate’s own anxieties - for whatever reason - settling in at the pit of her stomach alongside her own.

The nurses gave her looks of pity. Her soulmate gave her their presence.

In the week before she made her way to Seattle, a giddy nervousness crept in at the oddest of times. In the middle of a complicated surgery wasn’t the most convenient of places, nor was three am alone in the bed she once shared with her husband.

She was glad that while she was depressed, alone in the bed she had made for herself, at least somewhere out there her soulmate was happy.

She hoped, desperately in the corner of her mind, that it could be Derek. That somehow, she had been mistaken, and he was the one for her.

But then again, how could it be him? When he was this happy, this free, without her?

Often that funny, familiar feeling crept in after she confronted Derek. Sorrow, devastation, and hot, fire-burning fury blurring into one heated melting pot. She began to hope, that somehow, maybe, this was the way that Derek was feeling.

And yet, Derek wasn’t a very complicated man. His feelings ran only one way. He hated her, and he loved Meredith, and nothing she could do would change that.

Was there really any point in trying if she knew that somewhere out there, however hurt they were right now, someone was waiting for her?

She had grown used to feeling nauseous whenever Meredith was around. She saw the appeal in her, she was young, brilliantly smart, beautiful, and somehow, even with the dark air she kept around her she was naïve enough when she was in love. Addison hated it but could definitely admit to herself that she was intimated by the blonde woman. (If she was being honest, it was entirely the reason why she had taken her on for that TTTS case).

But when Oh my god are you pregnant? Hit her square in the face, she was almost sure that the sickening feeling filling her insides wasn’t her own.

And that? Well, Addison wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.

After that, it wasn’t exactly hard to put a face to the feelings she had grown to appreciate. Especially when she felt everything Meredith was feeling while high on Morphine. It seemed that somehow, when the drugs made Meredith’s filter fall away, the connection (or mistake) between the two of them flew wide open.

She chose to cancel her surgeries for that day. If Richard chose to believe it was because of her own personal feelings about a potential baby, then so be it.

It wasn’t hard to look back after that and see all the reasons why she should go away, run back home to New York and ignore everything. Divorce Derek and let him have his happy ending with Meredith.

She knew how Meredith felt about him now. If she was being honest with herself, it was the same way she had felt about him, once upon a time. It seemed as though hindsight was her doom, now that she could look back and remember all the little flutters of excitement and the beginnings of love that she knew wasn’t her own feelings for Mark.

She began to fill up a timeline in her head. She had heard enough of how the two of them had started from hospital gossip.

When she was off kissing Mark, Meredith had just been accepted into Seattle Grace.

When she was alone in a hospital room, Meredith had likely found out that Derek was her one-night-stand-turned-boss.

When she was crying in New York, Meredith was falling for Derek in Seattle.

When she confronted Derek, Meredith’s soul was breaking in two.

A million other small, fleeting moments flittered in, across her mind’s eye. What kind of a sick, foul mistake was this? To be the soulmate of her husband’s mistress, when said woman was head over heels for him? What kind of woman, what kind of wife did that make her?

There was insurmountable fear, and panic, and a stillness that stopped her from being able to think properly.

And then there was a code black.

She could tell, the exact moment that it happened. Perhaps hindsight gives clarity, but if she was being honest with herself, she had a direct eyeline into that OR without anyone knowing.

Call it serendipity, or a sixth sense. She knew it was universal, cosmic karma. She felt it, the moment the world stood still while Meredith carefully (carelessly) placed her hand on a bomb.

She was scared, for Derek, for Meredith, for her own messed up feelings.

She hugged him, when it was all over, though she knew that he was looking for Meredith.

If she was being honest, if not for knowing by the unmistakable feeling of sorrow playing across her mind, telling her that Meredith was alive, she would have looked for her, too.

She divorced him, as she should have years ago. If she was being honest with herself, she should have done something back then when she realised she was feeling a stranger’s – Meredith’s – emotions and not Derek’s.

She wasn’t a very good person. She was an adulterer, and she was cruel. To most people, Derek, Mark and Meredith included. But most of all, she was cruel to herself.

She told herself that she wanted to stay for her patients. For Richard’s offer of being the best in her field this side of the country. But she knew that it wasn’t true. She tried believing that she was only punishing herself further for the mistakes she had made.

Perhaps she was. But if honesty (not her closest friend of years past) came into play, she was mostly staying for Meredith. If she was bound to her, to feel every strong emotion that the blonde did, then she wanted to be here for it.

Karma, like honesty, wasn’t her closest friend, either.

There was a lot of turmoil in Meredith’s life. She hadn’t truly realised it, before, the surmounting anxieties and fear and sadness that clung to her own skin, which belonged to the blonde surgeon-to-be. She knew something was wrong when all she felt was cold and numb. She tried to shake her hands off, to continue with her day, but the cold chill deep in her bones didn’t belong to her.

Thank God, at least, that she could feel the warmth creeping in. Whatever it was they were doing. She hoped that deep down, Meredith felt Derek’s desperation alongside everyone else’s, for her to come back to them.

When the relief came, and the distant pain began to settle to a low, background noise, she fled from the hospital. Not even bothering to go to Joe’s, her usual hiding spot when she wanted to not feel Meredith Grey.

She ran to her hotel room instead, drinking to wash away the remnants of Meredith from within.

She didn’t go away.

The hangover barely even competed with the tiredness burning under her skin belonging to someone else.

She half expected them to be nauseatingly, disgustingly in love after that. She fully, truly believed that she would have to experience Meredith’s love for Derek only growing, their sickly sweet happiness following her along no matter where she went.

More and more often, ever since she left New York, Meredith’s heart and her feelings became second nature to her. It was as though they were a constant companion, no matter the turmoil and thunder crashing through her own life. It was a familiar comfort, if nothing else, even as Meredith’s love for Derek crushed her deeply.

But now she felt empty. As if there was nothing there at all, save for her own emotions. For the first time since she had been seventeen, confused and scared, she finally felt nothing.

And it was truly worse than if she had to go through Meredith being in love with someone else. Being without her, without her feelings coursing through her own veins, she felt more alone and abandoned than ever.

More than once, during the absence of Meredith, Addison had to check up on the blonde. She requested her on at least three cases over the coming months, just so that she could observe the blonde from a distance.

It was off-putting, and a little confusing, to have to interact with Meredith, to be able to watch her from afar and have absolutely no clue what she was feeling. It was alienating. She felt more alone than she had been in New York, with Mark or Derek or even just herself.

She wanted to scream, to shake the blonde hard enough to rattle her brain. She wanted her to tell her what she was feeling. She wanted her to show her how she was feeling.

But she was no one. Worse, she was just a colleague, a random nobody in a building full of strangers. She wasn’t a soulmate – she wasn’t the love of her life. She was just a stranger.

Her bones knew the love Meredith could hold in her heart. But it didn’t belong to her.

Gossip, she decided, was one of the worst things about Seattle Grace. The nurses loved to chat, to speculate about the goings on. She knew that by coming here she would become a hot topic of the hospital – hell, the story of Derek and Meredith was practically transcontinental at this point. At the very least if she wasn’t a part of Meredith’s life, she was a small piece in that. A chess pawn, perhaps.

When the days were idle and the surgeries were slow, the nurses loved a good gossip. Unfortunately for her, even though she had tried her best not to, she had no labouring mother’s that day. Just a mountain of charts to go over. And so she fell privy to the information mulling around the hospital.

She was lucky that there were no labouring mothers or sick babies that called for her attention. She wouldn’t have handled it well if there were.

That was how she found herself, angrily shoving the one person she didn’t want to hurt into an on-call room, locking the door while she paced the room wall to wall, her heart burning a hole through her chest

“Doctor Montgomery?” Meredith hesitated, her eyes wide and solemn. “Are you alright?”

Addison chuckled, her heels scorching a path down the linoleum floor as she continued pacing, feeling the strong urge to somehow burn off the fire in her belly. “No.” She scoffed. “I am most certainly not.” She sneered, barely even sparing the blonde a glance.

“Yeah, okay.” Meredith snarked, folding her arms and leaning back against the door. “I kind of got that, but what else am I supposed to say when you drag me in here?”

“I… don’t know.” Addison laughed, the sound startling even herself as it bubbled up out of her chest. “I don’t know!” She laughed once more, the contagion leaking out of her, the darkness of it spilling from her lips. She couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I don’t know, Meredith! What am I supposed to say?” The laughter kept coming, the dark, hollow sound filling the room with shadow. She gasped for air, tears already spilling down her cheeks without permission.

“Sit down.” Meredith’s hands were on her shoulders, pushing her down onto the cot.

The backs of her knees collided with the cool metal as she fell onto the thin mattress, tears blurring her vision. Her laughter had stopped, leaving her chest empty.

Someone was sobbing, the empty echo and gasps for air shuddering through her chest. Was it her? Was it Meredith? She couldn’t figure out who was who anymore. It had been weeks without feeling something, weeks of a dull emptiness in her chest. What did she even feel anymore?

Finally, finally, just as black spots began to prickle at the edges of her vision, breath came to her once more. She connected with reality again, Meredith’s hands burning through her shoulders.

She erupted.

Shrugging off the younger woman she fled to the door, struggling to open the lock once more.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, the words cracking as she clung to the handle, wiping away her tears with shaking hands before she stepped out into the hallway. “This never happened.” Her words came out stronger, passing from her lips with resolve. She didn’t turn, didn’t look back at the blonde. She didn’t need to.

The embarrassment burning through her was not accompanied by an old friend she had come to know. That was confirmation enough for her.

So what if Derek and Meredith weren’t together anymore? She should be happy. She should be elated. She could go to Meredith if she wanted. She could have her. The door was wide open.

Except, she had dragged her into an on-call room and cried at her, rather than kissing her breath away.

She hadn’t exactly been smart about this whole thing.

She supposed that since crying at Meredith hadn’t worked out, she could always go back to Mark. He was the available option.

He just wasn’t the option she wanted anymore.

She resented her connection with Meredith for the way it affected her during surgery. When she was operating, she usually managed to block everything she was feeling out – hunger, exhaustion, her bladder, her own heartbreak. But when you could feel someone else’s turmoil boiling down in the pit of your own belly, it became far more difficult.

She prayed and prayed that Meredith would just stop. Whatever it was that was upsetting the blonde was beginning to make her distracted. She operated on babies and their mothers – she always had at least two patients that needed her full, undivided attention.

At least this time it was just a planned C-section. She didn’t think she could handle anything more complicated than that given that Meredith was currently feeling very, terribly, heart-wrenchingly sad.

On top of that, Addison had absolutely zero clue as to what it was. Save for the on-call room incident, they had barely spoken a word to each other. They weren’t exactly friends. It wasn’t as though she could go up to her and ask.

In all of her worry, and all of her focus during her surgery, Addison had almost forgotten to feel happy. Her connection with Meredith, it seemed, was back.

She couldn’t ask Meredith if she was okay. She couldn’t even hunt down the blonde and get a visual on her without being suspicious. And so, she did the one thing she didn’t think she ever could. She tried to use their ill-gotten connection for good.

Paris in the summer. Rare, sunny Seattle days. Hot cups of juju. Amelia, sober and happy. The TTS case with Meredith. Calliope, finally celebrating who she is. Meredith in her prom dress. Her first ever solo surgery. Meredith’s first ever solo surgery. Doc, when he was alive and well. Meredith’s face lighting up whenever she was able to come and see him. Meredith’s smile. Meredith’s snarky eyes from under her PPE.

God. She was screwed.

She didn’t really know if it had helped Meredith, at all. She didn’t even truly know if it had worked. But the sadness eased, a little.

The on call room incident as she had began to dub it, became a perfectly valid reason for her to avoid Meredith. She would allow the blonde to chalk it up to embarrassment. The plan was fool proof – she didn’t have to see Meredith again and torture her stupid, pathetic heart for having fallen for the other woman, and Meredith didn’t have to see her and no doubt cringe at the awkwardness of it.

The only slight problem with the plan was that, for whatever reason, absence really did make their connection grow stronger. It was as though every slight irritation, every little moment of joy Meredith would experience, she would experience, too.

Addison was hardly a nosy person – she was nothing like Derek’s sisters – but it did begin to bug her that she didn’t know what was making Meredith sad, or anxious that day.

If she focused on that rather than her jealousy at not being able to ask, well, could she really be blamed for that?

Meredith, it seemed, didn’t know what their connection was (if she felt it at all) and for that, Addison was grateful. Addison began to learn her through her feelings, silently marking down what each one tended to mean.

When Mark had requested the blonde on his service, it usually meant that Addison would feel mildly disgusted, mixed in with some small amounts of amusement mingled with frustration. She guessed that, alongside the other residents, Mark barely allowed Meredith to do any actual surgical practice, all while making lewd comments that were either entirely off-putting or somewhat witty.

If Meredith spent the entire day on scut, it was more than likely she would be on the receiving end of boredom and revulsion. Addison had made a mental note to never put Meredith on scut while she was on her service. At the very least it would save herself from having to feel it, too.

Usually, when Meredith was on either Bailey’s or Webber’s service, most of the day was filled with content. Those were some of her favourite days. From her own personal experience, she knew that happy days were a rarity for Meredith. These were the days where she loved sharing this connection with the blonde.

She couldn’t really pinpoint a way that Meredith felt on the days that she rotated through Cardio, or Ortho. Generally, she was focused. She was glad that Meredith didn’t seem to enjoy them as much, and thus spent little time on them given that her best friend hogged cardiothoracic as long as Erica would allow her to.

She hated the days that Meredith was on neuro. The blonde was constantly thrilled, excitement humming through her veins. It didn’t help that Derek seemed to allow her to scrub in on most of his long-haul surgeries, which meant that Addison got to feel giddy and physically exhausted all at the same time. She began to schedule her important surgeries during the early stages of Derek’s if she could help it. It didn’t help her either, to know that Meredith was this happy to be around her ex-husband.

She didn’t get to feel much through their connection whenever Meredith was on her service. It tended to make her feel alone. The blonde was right there, close enough to touch, and yet she couldn’t feel a single thing.

She should be questioning her sanity. She had fallen for someone who didn’t even care that she existed.

She almost lost a baby. The mother was bleeding rapidly, and she had to perform a crash C. She had no other option, of course, and she knew that she was the best woman for the job. It didn’t help to stop her rising panic. She watched the numbers go down even with her hands already inside, already there and doing their best. She clamped what she could, using her hands in place of the suction that was doing practically nothing. And still, everything that she was doing didn’t seem to be enough.

And then, there was a quiet, small amount of joy spreading through her. It took her a moment – her focus entirely on the baby and it’s mother, but she let the feeling wash over her, lulling her into a calm focus. She could do this. She had seen it before. She just had to have quick hands.

Both of her patients survived, though not unscathed. She sent a silent thank-you to Meredith, and for whatever it was that had made her so warm and happy in that moment. She didn’t even care if it was Derek. Whatever it was, it had helped.

She spotted them across the catwalk. Cutesy smiles, inside jokes and no doubt flirtatious looks. She tried to look away, she really did, but Meredith truly was radiant when she smiled. Addison could barely even attempt to dampen the flare of jealousy that lit up within her. She wanted to be the one to make Meredith smile like that. Instead she had been lumped with a broken connection that she and she alone was cursed to feel, doomed to be a single divorcee for the rest of her life. It certainly didn’t help that she could feel how happy Meredith was, the warmth tingling through her nerve endings, threatening to swallow her whole.

She postponed her surgery that day in favour of silent, seething rage. And Tequila.

She kind of hated working with Cristina Yang. Unlike Hahn, she saw the raw potential and genius that was blossoming from the young surgeon. But Yang was terrible with patients. She was cold and calculating – both excellent traits in a surgeon, but neither very good ones in a person. How Meredith was so close with her she would never know.

Cristina was struggling with her patients while on rotation, to say the least. Labouring mothers tended to get all excited about their babies – choosing more often than not to chitchat and blather on about their kids, sharing their joy with the world in order to distract them from the fact that they needed a fetal surgeon. She wasn’t exactly one to enjoy baby-talk herself, but at the very least she didn’t try and shut down every conversation her patients tried to strike up with her.

Plus, Yang was being odd – even by her standards. It was as though she was watching her intently, trying to see something. For the briefest moment, Addison had wondered if she had something on her face (She did check. There was nothing there.) but the young surgeon persisted. Hahn had complained about this often, so she supposed the behaviour was normal. Though it didn’t stop her from feeling mildly creeped out the entire day.

Meredith was a keen drinker. This Addison knew. Mostly because she had spotted her down at Joe’s more than once each week. She tended to avoid Meredith like this whenever she did notice her. The great thing about being a surgeon was that you could always use a fake page to get out of any obligation (except, perhaps, surgery) whenever you liked. The downside was that it didn’t always convince your surgeon friends.

The peculiar thing about the drinking however, was that Addison had expected it to affect their connection in much the same way as the morphine had. But instead of making every thought or feeling a thousand times more intense, it only really managed to dull the connection between them. It was as though a small part of her felt numb, lost.

She didn’t like it when Meredith drank, she discovered.

When Addison drank, however, it was usually because she needed a reprieve from Meredith. When the blonde was drinking, she hated it. She loved having their connection and had grown quite attached to being able to feel the blonde. It mad her feel less isolated. This way, someone was constantly with her.

But there were some days – like the days Meredith was excited and on-edge for a full shift – where Addison just needed a break. A few hours with a good few drinks and a lot less Meredith Grey. She never claimed to not be a hypocrite. She was the self-proclaimed “Ruler of all that is Evil”, after all.

Callie had decided she liked drinking, too. Though she tended to bring along Erica these days. While Addison was very supportive of her friends, she hated that they could have what she could not. It also meant that her drinking was to excess on those nights. But hey, she could do so because now she had two friends to make sure that she got home safe, and not just Joe.

Callie was a loose-lipped drunk. And handsy. But Erica didn’t seem to mind.

“D’you believe in the whole soulmates crap?” Callie asked, her words beginning to slur given that they were already plenty drinks down, plenty more to go.

Addison paused, her straw already partway to her lips. “I don’t know.” She decided to say, choosing not to think about the whole mess with her and Meredith.

“I wish I could feel what Erica felt, all the time.” Callie smiled, her eyes glinting. “The sex would be amazing.” She grinned.

Oh. Addison paused. She hadn’t even thought of that. Damn you, Calliope Torres. “D’you think God hates gay people after all?” Callie questioned, the mischief vanishing from her eyes as her drunken brain flip-flopped from one thought to another.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, because I can’t feel Erica. But I love her. Like I think I do. She smiles real cute and she’s really hot and she makes me feel like me again. And she’s funny. But not like, haha funny, but in a snarky way.” Callie began to rant.

Meredith was like that, too. “So… God hates gays because you love Erica?” Addison queried, the two thoughts not quite lining up for her.

“No!” Callie yelled louder than the neighbouring patrons seemed to appreciate. “He has to hate us. Because otherwise we would be the perfect match. So why hasn’t he let us be soulmates?”

Addison couldn’t answer that question. Before she could even think of a reasonable answer, Erica returned, and all talks of God and women were off.

Maybe Callie was right. Maybe loving Meredith was never in the cards.

She had been an idiot. A fool. An Imbecile. What kind of moronic, stupid, halfwit takes the word of a resident over the scans? What kind of surgeon doesn’t think to check the scans?

Dr Hamlin had told her they were clear. There was no sing of infection. They were going to keep the patient for observation, but she would be okay. That was what he had said.

Why, oh why, had she even been so reckless as to take him for his word?

Incompetent. Useless. Culpable.

It would have taken a few minutes. Ten. Twenty, tops. To go up a floor and check the scans herself. It would have been so easy. So minute. But she hadn’t done it. She had spotted Meredith, a few doors down, smiling and laughing with a nervous patient.  And she had stopped. She had wanted to see this for herself, one of the few moments Meredith spent smiling, her eyes shining with laughter, and it wasn’t directed at him.

She had spent so long looking at Meredith – gawking, really – that she had gotten distracted. Taken Hamlin for his word.

And now her patient would be the one to pay the price.

Seven hours. Seven hours in surgery she spent trying desperately to help her patient, Seven hours of her hands in that poor woman’s body.

It hadn’t been enough time.

“You.” Addison glared. Somehow, the moment she had managed to change out of her scrubs, she had already stumbled into the one person she could really do without seeing – without feeling – right now.

“Addison, I-“

“Shut it, Grey.” She hissed, storming past. It was all Meredith’s fault in the first place. If she hadn’t been so perfect, so beautiful when she smiled, so unattainable and happy without her, then she wouldn’t have stopped and stared. And Mrs. Linn and her baby would still be alive.

Who was she kidding?

Richard let her have the week off. She spent most of it in a bottle, grateful that at the very least, the alcohol numbed her connection with Meredith.

It didn’t numb her grief.

She couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the wild, terrified blue eyes of Kaye Linn, begging for her baby’s life.

She never saw what colour the baby’s eyes were. He didn’t live long enough to open them.

Someone kept calling her. It was probably the hospital.

It didn’t matter. They didn’t want drunken, baby-killing surgeons on their staff, anyway.

Something was pounding. Her head? Her heart? (did she have one left?) She shut her eyes, reaching for the bottle, wishing the sticky, amber liquid could wash away this, if not the memory of Kaye’s blood on her hands.

The bottle was empty. The pounding faded.

Meredith was yelling at her. Figures. She’d never even had her to begin with, but now the blonde was angry with her too. Serves her right, for being incompetent. It was all her fault. And now Kaye was gone, and her baby was gone, and Addison was alone. It didn’t seem like a fair price.

The world was spinning. The light was burning her eyes.

She shut her eyelids so tight that she thought she could see God behind them.

If he hadn’t hated her before, he sure as hell had good reason to now.

It was cold. So cold. Her whole body was going numb. She couldn’t feel her fingers or her toes for the ice raining down on her.

Let it come.

Meredith was here again. How good it was to hear her voice. The words in particular weren’t getting through, but the quiet hushed tones of the blonde were like a balm washing over her skin.

Oh.

She was talking to him.

She was dying. Like, actually dying, The sunlight was piercing holes through her eyes and melting her brain. God, it was too bright in here.

Why was the sun even out anyway? This is Seattle. There isn’t supposed to be any sun here.

Had she finally made it to hell?

Addison sat up, shrugging off her comforter and sitting up in bed, her bones stiff and aching. Her head was screeching at her as she did her best to fiddle with the remote, finally turning the blinds on with the control and getting rid of that blasted sunlight.

“Welcome back.” Meredith’s snarky voice greeted her as she stood in the doorway of her hotel room. Impossible. There was a hint of venom in her tone.

“Meredith?” She questioned, rubbing her dry eyes to check if she was really there.

“Addison.” The blonde nodded.

Right. So a figment of her imagination, then.

Addison checked her phone which was next to her on the nightstand. It had been more than a week, and it was already the middle of the afternoon. Great. She ran her hands through her hair, frowning when she realised it was wet. Had her drunken self really managed to shower?

“Aspirins in the drawer. I’d get you a banana bag but seeing as you decided to carry out your lone drunken escapade in a hotel and not a hospital, water will just have to do.”

Her conscience had snark. How lovely.

“Am I still drunk? What are you, a demon sent to haunt me for my sins? God knows I deserve it.” She muttered the last part, swallowing her pills with admittedly less enthusiasm as with the tequila.

“Probably. You’re Satan. I have no idea what that makes me.” Hallucination-Meredith shrugged.

“An angel. One proven time and again that I don’t deserve and can never hope to.” Addison smiled, the sadness dampening it at the edges. Her hallucination opened its mouth, ready to say something, but seemed to think better of it and closed it instead. Huh. Well, that was a first for her.

“You better call Richard.” Meredith spoke softly, her eyes no longer sparking with thinly-veiled anger, instead they had been hollowed out by a defeated sadness lurking within.

With that, the hallucination left her to her own thoughts.

Addison noted that the connection was back. Wherever real-life Meredith was, she was deeply confused. Which was about the same way as Addison herself felt.

There were a few things that confused Addison as she got herself dressed in her hotel room. For one, all of the alcohol in the room was gone. Although, the redhead hadn’t actually wanted to drown her demons for much longer. The hotel must have decided that she’d had enough.

For another, the room was clean, her sheets were fresh, she had already somehow managed to successfully shower while in her drunken stupor. She made a mental note to give housekeeping a big tip, as they had somehow managed to navigate around her and tidy the room up a bit.

As odd as it was that she had showered and somehow managed to not remember it, her hair smelled like lavender, and that alone seemed to calm her somewhat. It smelled like Meredith.

She called Richard.

He insisted that she do counselling before being cleared for surgery. She doubted that it would help, but Dr. Wyatt had to be better than Don Julio.

It took a few weeks before she was ready to go back to work. Dr Wyatt was a bit of an ass, but she found that she appreciated the gentle (and not so gentle) nudging when it came to working through her feelings. She was beginning to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t (entirely, at least) her fault for Kaye’s death. She still insisted on the M&M, and reviewing all the notes and scans, of course, but she was finding ways not to listen to the devil in her head telling her that she was wrong. (It sounded an awful lot like Bizzy, which was a fun conversation).

Dr Wyatt knew about her connection with Meredith. (Or whatever it was). She didn’t say much about it, but seemed delighted that they had a knew way to work through her trauma. Apparently, picturing Meredith as the antithesis to Bizzy would be a perfect way to work through her pain.

Dr Wyatt had said that it was good because this imaginary Meredith could love her back, unconditionally, and was capable of showing her the better parts of herself.

Addison thought that it was a load of crap.

Apparently, when you picture your half-soulmate ex-husband’s ex-girlfriend as your knight in shining armour, it can really mess with how you interact with them in reality.

She was trying her best. She really was. She was back at work (though no surgeries yet – thank God) and avoiding Meredith at every chance she got. And whenever that voice would step in, telling her that she should quit and go home and never operate again, her imaginary Meredith, the one that loved her back would step up, telling her good things. Things she only wanted to hear from real life Meredith.

If Dr Wyatt hadn’t been the one to recommend it, Addison would think that she was certifiable.

She began to resent fake-Meredith.

Dr Wyatt seemed happy to hear it. Some kind of rubbish psych thing about evolving into her own and not needing fake-Meredith anymore.

In any case, Addison was beginning to wish that she didn’t have to see Meredith anymore. It was just another sad and painful reminder of who she was. It was a sharp stab in the gut every time she saw that beautiful, hesitant smile directed her way.

Fake-Meredith was there. Telling her that she would be enough for somebody some day.

Addison didn’t want to be enough for just somebody. She wanted to be enough for real-Meredith.

Dr Wyatt insisted that they begin to move away from fake-Meredith. As much as Addison appreciated the comfort that came from a woman that only lived in her imagination, Wyatt was right. She was relying excessively on fake-Meredith, avoiding real-Meredith too much for her own liking.

So that was the good thing, she supposed. Re-integrating herself into society. Or something.

Re-integrating herself back into Meredith’s life.

She had fucked up a lot of things in life, but none quite as much as this.

She thought that the symmetry of it could have been appreciated – requesting Meredith on her service the moment she was ready to be in the same room as her again. Dr Wyatt would probably call it too much too soon. She was already nervous to tell her but given that the woman worked in the same hospital she had surely already heard the news through the gossip mill.

Meredith wasn’t happy with her, that much she could tell. She was out for blood. (It did not assure her that they worked in a building full of complex, torturous medical devices).

But the blonde was a professional, seeing to her patients like a star resident, making sure that everyone under her service was well taken care of and any worrying numbers were reported to her immediately.

It would have reassured her, Meredith’s keen attitude, the way she whizzed through her floor and took care of all her patients easily. Except for the fact that Meredith’s concentrating face turned sour whenever she tried to get close to her. In the beginning of the day, she had given her instructions – how she liked her floor run, the nurse protocols, the basics really.

Maybe that had been when it started?

Meredith could barely look at her. There was practically steam flying from her ears. She watched as she approached, the steady hunching of her shoulders, the deep intake of breath that told her Meredith was just grasping for patience as she neared.

At a loss, she let it be. It was her won fault anyway, for forcing Meredith to be with her.

You’d think that she’d learn, what with Wyatt telling her off for straying away from their carefully constructed plan for her recovery.

She supposed she should get a sterner therapist – someone who could actually tell her off properly rather than seemingly just going along with whatever plan she had managed to concoct that week.

Wyatt had somehow – stupidly – decided that now the bed was made, and they were going to make it comfy enough to lie in. Or whatever the phrase was.

So now Addison was continuously adding Meredith on to her service, in whatever way she could.

She wasn’t going to lie – the way Meredith seemed focused and intent on freezing her out did twist her gut each time, but she would be damned if she wasn’t going to follow through.

Throughout the week, she felt very little of Meredith’s emotions. It seemed as though the blonde was determined to freeze her out via their connection and physically.

Addison had never felt more alone.

She kept insisting on bringing the blonde with her anyway. To patients, to the lab, to the OR.

At the very least Meredith wanted to be with her when they were operating. She didn’t have to have their emotional connection to know that – the eagerness rolled off her in waves.

At least Meredith loved surgery, if not her.

It wasn’t as though she was expecting her job to be easy. She knew just how difficult it was. She knew that she would come close to losing her patients. It was the nature of her work. Wyatt had reassured her that she was ready to take on her usual case load, and with Meredith as her resident she knew that her other patients would be well taken care of.

She felt it. The slight twinge of disappointment when she sent Meredith to take care of the floor. She  knew that Meredith wanted in on the surgery. But she had all the hands that she needed and as much as she wanted to let Meredith in for it she needed to know her patients were in the hands of a competent surgeon.

She studied the scans herself, this time. Eyes carefully scanning for any sign that the procedure wouldn’t be textbook.

She made the first cut, careful not to go too deep. Fetal surgery was a delicate field to be in.

She clamped. Her fellow followed with suction and pads. Everything was going well.

D-cells.

Arrythmia.

Everything exploded at once. The OR erupted, nurses rushing to their stations, a call to the blood bank, the anaesthesiologist suddenly was working to make sure everything would flow smoothly.

She wished that she had closed the gallery as the panic began to settle in. Her hands were quick, her anastomosis was perfect, but the fetal heart rate continued to drop – seemingly with no explanation.

Then she found it. The leak.

The moment that she spotted it; her scrub nurse already had the tools ready. She really ought to get that woman a raise.

 It was fixed before her brain had even caught up with her hands, the small tear in the flesh sutured before it could rip wider and cause problems.

The issue was fixed, but the panic still settled in. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, her hands began to shake lightly. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, checking her monitors.

Everything was okay. She was okay. This wasn’t going to be the same as last time.

“Doctor Montgomery?” Meredith spoke up from somewhere far away.

Oh no. She had done it again. Hallucinating Meredith in her hour of need.

“Doctor Montgomery.” The voice came through clearer this time, the slight hiss of static cutting her off.

She looked up in wonder, her hands still as she latched her eyes on the blonde.

This was real. She was really here.

“I thought you should know that I’ve just rounded on your patients.” Meredith spoke calmly, her voice cutting clear over the intercom as she watched over the gallery. She did not smile, but her presence began to calm her nonetheless.

“Give me the update, Grey.” Addison cleared her throat, speaking loudly as she began to move her hands again, operating swiftly now as she went through the motions of closing.

“Abebe Obkodo is doing well. I did her ultrasound and it showed that the amniotic bands seem to have resolved themselves now. She’s ready for discharge but I thought you might like to check the ultrasound yourself.” Meredith began. Addison breathed a sigh of relief as she began suturing, always having been quick at stitching.

“You would be correct in that assumption, Doctor Grey.” Addison spoke as she moved, the façade they were playing to the OR calming her as she went.

“Amka Olanna felt her baby move just a few hours after her umbilical transfusion. We’re going to keep her for a few more hours just to check that she won’t need Tocolytics, but it’s already looking as though they won’t be necessary.”

“Did you check her ultrasound?”

“All clear.”

Good. That was good.

“We had a new patient admitted, I’m sure you’d like to go up and see them after this case. Though I believe you were expecting them as the patient previously had a uterine transplant that you worked on with Catherine Avery. She’s completed her IVF rounds which have now resulted in a pregnancy.”

Right. “Keira and Weston… Of course. Initial exam?”

“Physically she seems to be fine, good numbers. Only complaints are that of a classical pregnancy – fatigue, swollen ankles, etcetera. Her last cervical biopsy was good, no signs of rejection so far but as we reach the borderline, we obviously need her here to keep a close eye.”

“Well done, Doctor Grey. Of course, I’d like to see them before Abebe, just to see for myself how she’s progressed since I saw her last. Who was she seeing before me?”

“Nicole Herman. But she’s moving practices at the moment and as a critical patient she recommended you.”

Huh. She liked Herman. Never thought that the other fetal surgeon – as competitive as she was – would recommend her. But as fetal surgeons there were very few choices on the west coast and Nicole probably hated giving her patients away to the men that dominated their field.

“Would you like me to take you up to Kiera Longstone once you’ve scrubbed out, Doctor Montgomery?” Meredith crackled over the intercom.

Oh. Right. She had finished. “Yes. Of Course.” She walked through a daze, taking her time scrubbing out of the surgery as they wheeled her patient away.

“You.” Meredith hissed as she grabbed her arm, dragging her through the hallway and out into a deserted on-call room.

“What? Meredith. Ow! You’re hurting me.” She whined, rubbing her arm as she was not-so-gently let go, the door slamming shut as Meredith spun on her.

“You! Reckless, Irresponsible, Irritating, Moronic, Gorgeous – I hate you!”

“What the hell did I do!” Addison yelled right back. This was out of nowhere – and what’s more, she couldn’t understand what she had done to make Meredith so, so mad.

“You go off and get drunk for a week, like an imbecile, and I can’t feel – and then I find you! Twenty bottles down. And then even half-drunk and depressed you manage to say these things. Why couldn’t you say them to me sober and at least showered for Christ’s sake. And today you made me feel so much panic I thought it would happen again!" Meredith ranted; her words burning hot as she hurtled them at Addison.

“Wh- I don’t understand.” Addison tried to catch up with Meredith’s angry rambling but none of it made any kind of linear sense. Was she hallucinating Meredith again? God, Wyatt was going to have her work cut out for her.

“And then- and then after saying all those nice things to me you go off and ignore me for weeks! Weeks, Addison! And you don’t even let me feel you during it.” Meredith huffed, tears in her eyes as she flopped down on the bed.

“Wh- Well – You!” Addison flung right back, finally finding her words. “You! You drowned, Meredith. I had to feel you drowning. I had to – I had to watch you with Derek!”

“I had to watch you with him!” Meredith stood back up, flying right back at her.

“You! You held a bomb, you idiot. I felt all of that, too!”

“Yeah? Well so did I!” Meredith countered, a smile finally sneaking its way past her lips. “God, we’re a mess.”

“I’m in therapy. I’m all kinds of fucked up and I thought I hallucinated you and I don’t think I deserve you even half as much as I probably should.” Addison blurted out.

“I’m messed up, too.” Meredith countered, her smile evening out as she turned serious. “If you knew, all this time… why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought… I don’t know… maybe that it was a mistake? That I was being punished or something.”

“Punished?” Meredith questioned, her eyebrows furrowing together.

“I’m an adulterer! And a horrible wife. I thought – I don’t know God hated me or something.” Addison mumbled.

“You made a mistake. And it wasn’t as though Derek was an amazing husband. You fix babies every day. Today, you saved a baby’s life. God – or anyone, really – couldn’t hate you if he tried.  I tried, in the beginning. It’s pretty impossible, you know.” Meredith smirked.

“Yeah, well. Even when you stick your hands on bombs and go amateur swimming, you’re pretty hard to hate, too.” Addison smiled shyly, suddenly hyper aware of how close their bodies were. Meredith’s breath tickled her cheek, her hands somehow having made their way to her hips, resting gently.

The first time they came together, the very second their lips met, their connection bloomed.

It was as though she was feeling every part of Meredith, all at once. It blossomed deep in her belly, the light, tingly exhilaration spreading out to her fingertips and her toes.

Were they floating? Were they on fire? She couldn’t tell.

“Hi.” Meredith smiled, their eyes meeting as they finally gasped for air.

Addison giggled, the joyful glee bubbling up out of her. “Hi.”