grey's anatomy fanfiction, mark/addison, derek, amelia - we are all museums of fear [2/12].
We Are All Museums Of Fear: Chapter One.
Author's Notes: In which we find Addison (&Co. at OGW) in the midst of a long night after a medical emergency.
Side note: I'm just about to enter the last month of my first year of medical school, so things are about to get pretty intense on the study front. I should be able to post weekly until after exams are done, but I apologize for that lethargic speed... I really do need to pass my course and I've been neglecting study lately. So, I guess I'm just begging for your patience. The good news is that if I pass, I have two months of holidays, and woah boy, do I have some writing planned. ;)
Chapter One.
One week earlier.
After years of working in hospitals, Addison had learned to tune out the regular, repeating blip of heart monitors. Brady- or tachycardia or an abnormal rhythm would all pique her attention, but a steady pulse went virtually unnoticed. Now though, the machines pierced through the throbbing in her temples and the sound of her own pulse in her ears, even through the glass. She let her forehead rest on the cool window, braced on her hands, and took a deep, shaky breath.
Sam's hand was on her shoulder. She felt him squeeze it once before he pulled back. "I have to go," he told her quietly.
She swallowed and nodded, but didn't turn to look at him.
"Addison," he spoke louder this time, commanding her attention.
She felt her shoulders slump into a sigh and met his gaze in their reflections. They both looked like hell. The shirt he had been wearing yesterday was rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons revealing the beginnings of his chest. It was creased with wear. Her hair was hanging limply about her face, desperately in need of a wash, and she was still wearing the T-shirt and sweats she'd pulled on after work. A single green stain from the Thai food they'd been eating when she got the call adorned the fabric on the curve of her left breast.
She brought her hand up to massage her aching neck. "What?"
"It's five thirty in the morning," he reached up and kneaded her neck with both hands. She rolled her head from side to side, groaning softly as the knots in her muscles undid themselves. "You can't do anything more for her tonight. You should go home."
Addison shook her head. "No. I want to be here, when she wakes up."
She heard him open his mouth to say if but he thought better of it. It was lucky. She thought she might actually lose it if she heard him say it, and she didn't know if she was angry enough to scream or emotionally exhausted enough to cry. She bit down on her teeth to stop herself from doing either.
"You have the meeting today, with your lawyers about the new practice," he reminded her.
"I'll reschedule," she said, sounding absent but her mind wasn't really elsewhere. She wasn't exactly present either. She felt blank.
"Are you sure?" she could tell he wasn't pleased with that decision by his tone. It raised her ire, at him and the situation, ever so slightly. "Don't push me," she took a step away from him and brought her arms up to clasp her elbows, defensively. "Not after the night I've had. I'm not in the mood for it."
"I'm just saying, this isn't just your future on the line here," he reached out for one of her elbows, trying to unfurl her fingers. She remained steadfast. He settled for curling his hand around her bicep, running it up and down her arm. "This new practice, I know it's your money, but it's our jobs. You wanted to disband OGW, that's fine, we've done that, legally and financially. But now? We're all waiting."
"I know Sam," she sighed, relented, uncrossed her arms and let him take one of her hands. He laced their fingers together. "And I will ... I will deal with it as soon as I can. But she's my family. I have to be here. The others will understand. Can you?"
"I have to get home." He evaded the question or was too distracted by other pressing concerns to reply properly. "I'm due back here in a few hours. Page me, if you need anything."
Addison found herself disappointed by his non-answer, as she had been more and more often recently. She pushed that feeling aside though. She was over-tired and emotionally wrought. Now was not the time to be contemplating the sum of her life, such as it was. It might lead to rash decisions. She let him kiss her cheek.
"I have to call Derek," she remembered quietly as he righted himself. "He should know."
He gave her a sad look. "Please. Tell me if there's anything I can do."
She smiled, sadly. "There's not. It's okay. I know you're trying."
"And I know you're hurting," he observed, "And I hate it."
She squeezed his hand, "I know. I'm sorry." She leant over and kissed him softly. "I know you're trying. That's enough Sam, for now. Now, go. You'll be late."
"You sure I can't convince you to come with me?" He hesitated after taking a step backward, their entwined hands stretched between them. "Not even for a shower and a coffee?"
"Charlotte's gone to get coffee," she reminded him. "And I'll be fine here. I promise I'll reschedule the meeting for tomorrow. And I'll page you if there's any change."
He nodded. "Okay. Bye."
She mustered a more genuine looking smile and let her fingers curl into a half-wave. As soon as he turned, her face fell. Her brow creased. Her hand, however, remained suspended, an echo of her former gesture. She let it press against the hospital glass, tracing the woven mesh embedded within the pane.
In the room beyond, Amelia lay as though sleeping. Her face was unnaturally pale, a sharp contrast to the shadows of the room. She looked peaceful though, and Addison was struck by a old wonder that had remained with her throughout her career in medicine, that the body could look so still belying the flurry of activity beneath the layers of skin, muscle and bone. Her liver and kidneys would be working in tandem to metabolise and excrete the remaining pills in her system. The naloxone had already brought her respiratory function back to within normal limits and the adrenalin restored her blood pressure. The sheet rose and fell with her steady breathing.
Addison found herself counting, holding her own breath as she did; one, two, three, four in fifteen seconds, respiratory rate of 16 breaths per minute, O2 saturation steady at 99%, BP 115 on 68, heart rate 70. All normal, unremarkable, stats she wouldn't even spare a glance at in a patient.
Someone bumped into her shoulder lightly.
She turned her head to see Charlotte King, looking similarly night-worn, holding two cups of coffee. They were hospital cups. Charlotte extended one in her direction, contritely. "It's too early for the Starbucks across the street. This is all I could find."
Addison shook her head. "It's fine," she murmured, blowing at the surface of the dark brown liquid until it lapped at the edges of the Styrofoam. "Thank you."
"No change?" Charlotte ignored the steam wafting from her own cup and took a proper sip. She made a face when the liquid scalded her tongue, but swallowed it down just the same.
"Vitals are stable. She should have woken up hours ago."
"You know it's never easy to predict these things." Charlotte was half hospital administrator, half concerned friend. Her lab coat had been thrown haphazardly over the sweater and jeans she'd been wearing at home. Her hospital ID badge was clipped to the pocket by its hard metal teeth. She pulled at the tag absently, the elastic that allowed her to raise it to swipe into any of the restricted areas of the building protesting until she let it snap back up to the clip.
"She should have woken up," Addison repeated. "Unless there was too much damage..."
"We won't know until she regains consciousness." Charlotte swallowed another mouthful of the God-awful coffee and seriously considered whether she could stretch the budget for a proper machine with a more flavoursome blend. She warmed her hands against the insulated cup largely ineffectually. "For now, there's no use standing here worrying yourself over hypotheticals."
"That's what Sam said," Addison remarked offhandedly. She was back to counting Amelia's respiratory rate.
Charlotte's hand closed around her wrist, blocking her view of the face of her watch. She sighed. "I know. You're both right. But... it was my house Charlotte. If I'd been there... I just... how did I not notice?"
Charlotte shrugged; she was struggling with a different kind of guilt. "Sometimes we don't see things we don't want to see. Believe me, it's worse to have missed it entirely than to have seen it and been powerless to do a damn thing about it."
Addison turned to her, surprised. "You knew?"
"Not about the pills," the hospital ID badge snapped up and purred down again. She wasn't usually a fidgety type, but the night hadn't exactly been usual. "I knew she was drinking again. Why do you think I revoked her surgical privileges?"
"I didn't even know about that," Addison folded her arm across her body. "Christ. She's living in my spare room. How did I not know?"
"You've been busy, with the practice, with your personal life," Charlotte shrugged. "You miss things. It happens. Especially with addicts. I know I don't have to tell you. They hide it. Until one day, they slip up."
"You covered for her."
Charlotte nodded. "I shouldn't have. But I did."
"Why?"
"Why or why not? Why? Because I know what it's like. Why not? Because if I hadn't, if I'd made an official complaint to the medical board, maybe she'd be in a rehab right now and not ... like this. I knew it when I did it, that I was enabling. But after..." she paused; it still wasn't easy to say it. "After the rape. She was there for me. We went to meetin's together."
"Well we all overlook protocol for the people we care about," her words bore more than their apparent significance. Charlotte looked at her, bemused. She explained herself in due time. "I'm sorry, for doing the rape kit without telling you."
"Don't be," she turned back to Amelia. Addison studied her reflection in the glass."I wasn't myself. Hell, before it happened to me, I would've said the same thing to any patient that came in here. I always thought I'd want to nail the bastard. But at the time, I just wanted it to be over." She changed the subject. "Did you speak to her, before?"
"I..." Addison shook her head, "She told me she was working at UCLA Medical Centre for a while. She never said it was because you revoked her privileges. You don't think she did this on purpose. Charlotte?"
Her colleague looked thoughtful. "No. But she shouldn't have been performing surgeries. She knew it. I knew it. I... we'll know more when she wakes up."
If, if, if. It echoed in Addison's head which was beginning to swim from lack of sleep.
"I have to call Derek," she repeated to herself, her hand clutching around her cell phone in the pocket of her sweats. She didn't have anything on her, just her cell in one pocket and her keys in the other. She didn't have her car; Sam had driven. That meant going home was going to be more complicated than she could bear to think of at that moment. She sighed. "The hospital called Mrs Shepherd I hope."
Charlotte bristled slightly, instinctually protective of her hospital. "The hospital informed her next of kin. I don't know who it was. You'll have to check the file."
Addison nodded once. "Well. I'll be just outside. You'll come and find me if anything changes?"
"I promise."
She actually called from inside the hospital, in the waiting area beyond the short stay area of the emergency department where Amelia was being held. If she didn't wake up by change over they'd have to find her a spot on the wards. Using cell phones in the waiting room was against hospital policy. A nurse glared at her and pointed to a huge sign behind her head on which Uncle Sam proclaimed "I want you! ... to turn off your cell phone. "
She covered the mouth piece with her hand. "I'll only be a second."
"Everybody's always only going to be a second," the nurse grumbled. "Fine. Montgomery isn't it? I tell you what, you cover this phone long enough for me to run to the bathroom and you can talk as long as you like. We've been running flat out all night and I haven't had a chance to go."
Addison shrugged and rounded the desk, pausing for the nurse to dart from the swivelling chair before plonking herself down. She rested her head on her elbow and ran her fingers along her hairline, cursing softly into the cell. Dial tone rang in her ear. "Come on Derek," she urged. "Pick up."
It went through the voice mail. She left an awkward message and sat, twisting on the chair absently, reading the chart of a pregnant woman who'd come in with a suspected first-trimester miscarriage. She curled her hand into a fist and let it bump against her forehead. She was going crazy. It was ridiculous, to be jealous of a woman having a miscarriage because at least she could get pregnant. Addison was a world-class surgeon, babies were her job, and yet...
It taunted her. Babies nearly ruined your relationship with Sam, said the voice in her head, and now, maybe you were so distracted that you missed all the signs, maybe now babies will ruin your relationship with Amelia too.
She brought her fist down a little more violently than she intended on the desk, effectively silencing her vicious inner monologue. She was tired, guilty and frustrated. She started at her silent phone and cursed again. "Damnit Derek."
Unable to suppress a yawn, she lay across the desk and closed her eyes. Just for a second, she promised herself.
Author's Notes: In which we find Addison (&Co. at OGW) in the midst of a long night after a medical emergency.
Side note: I'm just about to enter the last month of my first year of medical school, so things are about to get pretty intense on the study front. I should be able to post weekly until after exams are done, but I apologize for that lethargic speed... I really do need to pass my course and I've been neglecting study lately. So, I guess I'm just begging for your patience. The good news is that if I pass, I have two months of holidays, and woah boy, do I have some writing planned. ;)
Chapter One.
One week earlier.
After years of working in hospitals, Addison had learned to tune out the regular, repeating blip of heart monitors. Brady- or tachycardia or an abnormal rhythm would all pique her attention, but a steady pulse went virtually unnoticed. Now though, the machines pierced through the throbbing in her temples and the sound of her own pulse in her ears, even through the glass. She let her forehead rest on the cool window, braced on her hands, and took a deep, shaky breath.
Sam's hand was on her shoulder. She felt him squeeze it once before he pulled back. "I have to go," he told her quietly.
She swallowed and nodded, but didn't turn to look at him.
"Addison," he spoke louder this time, commanding her attention.
She felt her shoulders slump into a sigh and met his gaze in their reflections. They both looked like hell. The shirt he had been wearing yesterday was rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons revealing the beginnings of his chest. It was creased with wear. Her hair was hanging limply about her face, desperately in need of a wash, and she was still wearing the T-shirt and sweats she'd pulled on after work. A single green stain from the Thai food they'd been eating when she got the call adorned the fabric on the curve of her left breast.
She brought her hand up to massage her aching neck. "What?"
"It's five thirty in the morning," he reached up and kneaded her neck with both hands. She rolled her head from side to side, groaning softly as the knots in her muscles undid themselves. "You can't do anything more for her tonight. You should go home."
Addison shook her head. "No. I want to be here, when she wakes up."
She heard him open his mouth to say if but he thought better of it. It was lucky. She thought she might actually lose it if she heard him say it, and she didn't know if she was angry enough to scream or emotionally exhausted enough to cry. She bit down on her teeth to stop herself from doing either.
"You have the meeting today, with your lawyers about the new practice," he reminded her.
"I'll reschedule," she said, sounding absent but her mind wasn't really elsewhere. She wasn't exactly present either. She felt blank.
"Are you sure?" she could tell he wasn't pleased with that decision by his tone. It raised her ire, at him and the situation, ever so slightly. "Don't push me," she took a step away from him and brought her arms up to clasp her elbows, defensively. "Not after the night I've had. I'm not in the mood for it."
"I'm just saying, this isn't just your future on the line here," he reached out for one of her elbows, trying to unfurl her fingers. She remained steadfast. He settled for curling his hand around her bicep, running it up and down her arm. "This new practice, I know it's your money, but it's our jobs. You wanted to disband OGW, that's fine, we've done that, legally and financially. But now? We're all waiting."
"I know Sam," she sighed, relented, uncrossed her arms and let him take one of her hands. He laced their fingers together. "And I will ... I will deal with it as soon as I can. But she's my family. I have to be here. The others will understand. Can you?"
"I have to get home." He evaded the question or was too distracted by other pressing concerns to reply properly. "I'm due back here in a few hours. Page me, if you need anything."
Addison found herself disappointed by his non-answer, as she had been more and more often recently. She pushed that feeling aside though. She was over-tired and emotionally wrought. Now was not the time to be contemplating the sum of her life, such as it was. It might lead to rash decisions. She let him kiss her cheek.
"I have to call Derek," she remembered quietly as he righted himself. "He should know."
He gave her a sad look. "Please. Tell me if there's anything I can do."
She smiled, sadly. "There's not. It's okay. I know you're trying."
"And I know you're hurting," he observed, "And I hate it."
She squeezed his hand, "I know. I'm sorry." She leant over and kissed him softly. "I know you're trying. That's enough Sam, for now. Now, go. You'll be late."
"You sure I can't convince you to come with me?" He hesitated after taking a step backward, their entwined hands stretched between them. "Not even for a shower and a coffee?"
"Charlotte's gone to get coffee," she reminded him. "And I'll be fine here. I promise I'll reschedule the meeting for tomorrow. And I'll page you if there's any change."
He nodded. "Okay. Bye."
She mustered a more genuine looking smile and let her fingers curl into a half-wave. As soon as he turned, her face fell. Her brow creased. Her hand, however, remained suspended, an echo of her former gesture. She let it press against the hospital glass, tracing the woven mesh embedded within the pane.
In the room beyond, Amelia lay as though sleeping. Her face was unnaturally pale, a sharp contrast to the shadows of the room. She looked peaceful though, and Addison was struck by a old wonder that had remained with her throughout her career in medicine, that the body could look so still belying the flurry of activity beneath the layers of skin, muscle and bone. Her liver and kidneys would be working in tandem to metabolise and excrete the remaining pills in her system. The naloxone had already brought her respiratory function back to within normal limits and the adrenalin restored her blood pressure. The sheet rose and fell with her steady breathing.
Addison found herself counting, holding her own breath as she did; one, two, three, four in fifteen seconds, respiratory rate of 16 breaths per minute, O2 saturation steady at 99%, BP 115 on 68, heart rate 70. All normal, unremarkable, stats she wouldn't even spare a glance at in a patient.
Someone bumped into her shoulder lightly.
She turned her head to see Charlotte King, looking similarly night-worn, holding two cups of coffee. They were hospital cups. Charlotte extended one in her direction, contritely. "It's too early for the Starbucks across the street. This is all I could find."
Addison shook her head. "It's fine," she murmured, blowing at the surface of the dark brown liquid until it lapped at the edges of the Styrofoam. "Thank you."
"No change?" Charlotte ignored the steam wafting from her own cup and took a proper sip. She made a face when the liquid scalded her tongue, but swallowed it down just the same.
"Vitals are stable. She should have woken up hours ago."
"You know it's never easy to predict these things." Charlotte was half hospital administrator, half concerned friend. Her lab coat had been thrown haphazardly over the sweater and jeans she'd been wearing at home. Her hospital ID badge was clipped to the pocket by its hard metal teeth. She pulled at the tag absently, the elastic that allowed her to raise it to swipe into any of the restricted areas of the building protesting until she let it snap back up to the clip.
"She should have woken up," Addison repeated. "Unless there was too much damage..."
"We won't know until she regains consciousness." Charlotte swallowed another mouthful of the God-awful coffee and seriously considered whether she could stretch the budget for a proper machine with a more flavoursome blend. She warmed her hands against the insulated cup largely ineffectually. "For now, there's no use standing here worrying yourself over hypotheticals."
"That's what Sam said," Addison remarked offhandedly. She was back to counting Amelia's respiratory rate.
Charlotte's hand closed around her wrist, blocking her view of the face of her watch. She sighed. "I know. You're both right. But... it was my house Charlotte. If I'd been there... I just... how did I not notice?"
Charlotte shrugged; she was struggling with a different kind of guilt. "Sometimes we don't see things we don't want to see. Believe me, it's worse to have missed it entirely than to have seen it and been powerless to do a damn thing about it."
Addison turned to her, surprised. "You knew?"
"Not about the pills," the hospital ID badge snapped up and purred down again. She wasn't usually a fidgety type, but the night hadn't exactly been usual. "I knew she was drinking again. Why do you think I revoked her surgical privileges?"
"I didn't even know about that," Addison folded her arm across her body. "Christ. She's living in my spare room. How did I not know?"
"You've been busy, with the practice, with your personal life," Charlotte shrugged. "You miss things. It happens. Especially with addicts. I know I don't have to tell you. They hide it. Until one day, they slip up."
"You covered for her."
Charlotte nodded. "I shouldn't have. But I did."
"Why?"
"Why or why not? Why? Because I know what it's like. Why not? Because if I hadn't, if I'd made an official complaint to the medical board, maybe she'd be in a rehab right now and not ... like this. I knew it when I did it, that I was enabling. But after..." she paused; it still wasn't easy to say it. "After the rape. She was there for me. We went to meetin's together."
"Well we all overlook protocol for the people we care about," her words bore more than their apparent significance. Charlotte looked at her, bemused. She explained herself in due time. "I'm sorry, for doing the rape kit without telling you."
"Don't be," she turned back to Amelia. Addison studied her reflection in the glass."I wasn't myself. Hell, before it happened to me, I would've said the same thing to any patient that came in here. I always thought I'd want to nail the bastard. But at the time, I just wanted it to be over." She changed the subject. "Did you speak to her, before?"
"I..." Addison shook her head, "She told me she was working at UCLA Medical Centre for a while. She never said it was because you revoked her privileges. You don't think she did this on purpose. Charlotte?"
Her colleague looked thoughtful. "No. But she shouldn't have been performing surgeries. She knew it. I knew it. I... we'll know more when she wakes up."
If, if, if. It echoed in Addison's head which was beginning to swim from lack of sleep.
"I have to call Derek," she repeated to herself, her hand clutching around her cell phone in the pocket of her sweats. She didn't have anything on her, just her cell in one pocket and her keys in the other. She didn't have her car; Sam had driven. That meant going home was going to be more complicated than she could bear to think of at that moment. She sighed. "The hospital called Mrs Shepherd I hope."
Charlotte bristled slightly, instinctually protective of her hospital. "The hospital informed her next of kin. I don't know who it was. You'll have to check the file."
Addison nodded once. "Well. I'll be just outside. You'll come and find me if anything changes?"
"I promise."
She actually called from inside the hospital, in the waiting area beyond the short stay area of the emergency department where Amelia was being held. If she didn't wake up by change over they'd have to find her a spot on the wards. Using cell phones in the waiting room was against hospital policy. A nurse glared at her and pointed to a huge sign behind her head on which Uncle Sam proclaimed "I want you! ... to turn off your cell phone. "
She covered the mouth piece with her hand. "I'll only be a second."
"Everybody's always only going to be a second," the nurse grumbled. "Fine. Montgomery isn't it? I tell you what, you cover this phone long enough for me to run to the bathroom and you can talk as long as you like. We've been running flat out all night and I haven't had a chance to go."
Addison shrugged and rounded the desk, pausing for the nurse to dart from the swivelling chair before plonking herself down. She rested her head on her elbow and ran her fingers along her hairline, cursing softly into the cell. Dial tone rang in her ear. "Come on Derek," she urged. "Pick up."
It went through the voice mail. She left an awkward message and sat, twisting on the chair absently, reading the chart of a pregnant woman who'd come in with a suspected first-trimester miscarriage. She curled her hand into a fist and let it bump against her forehead. She was going crazy. It was ridiculous, to be jealous of a woman having a miscarriage because at least she could get pregnant. Addison was a world-class surgeon, babies were her job, and yet...
It taunted her. Babies nearly ruined your relationship with Sam, said the voice in her head, and now, maybe you were so distracted that you missed all the signs, maybe now babies will ruin your relationship with Amelia too.
She brought her fist down a little more violently than she intended on the desk, effectively silencing her vicious inner monologue. She was tired, guilty and frustrated. She started at her silent phone and cursed again. "Damnit Derek."
Unable to suppress a yawn, she lay across the desk and closed her eyes. Just for a second, she promised herself.