let's join forces
Sometimes I feel like I invited mammothluv into my brain and she took a chair, put up her feet and is just starting to get real comfy, curled up against my synapses. Anyway, a little while ago she made a Meredith/Addison fanmix for me, and it hasn't let me go. Somewhere along the line, I said we should write something for each song she picked, be it big or small. I was kinda kidding but coupled with the Grey's re-watching we have sporadically committed to, there seems to be some kind of AU taking shape in my head like 6 years too late. So, uh, here's volley one in the Meredith/Addison rewrite. My hope is that mammoth will hit back with something super cool (because she happens to be cooler than me).
"Maybe in another life
We wouldn't be alone tonight
I've hurt you I can see
Do you think its not hurting me?"
Richard is the one who tells Addison about Meredith. What surprises her is not that she exists-- no, some part of her was prepared for it in a fight or flight type of way-- but the way Richard tells it. This strange combination of angry and wistful, like it's the intern he's really worried about, and it isn't until Addison processes the last name that something registers. Grey. Ellis Grey.
But Derek is central to her brain even as she's preparing her entrance. It's caddy, and probably beneath her--Addison doesn't need lipstick and pin curls to win, but she'll use them. And she's glad she did when she sees the two of them in the lobby, so effortlessly moving as a unit--Meredith's body turned into Derek's without even knowing it, and damn it. It hits Addison like a gut punch. Her husband. Hers. So willing to belong to someone else, even for a minute, and this has got to be worse than Mark. Got to be.
Instincts tell her to fall back. Retreat and see to her heart while there's something left to mend, but then she's introducing herself. Hand outstretched, ice cold, even as she hears blood pumping rapidly under her skin.
And the real shock is that it doesn't help at all, cutting into this girl, quick and fast. It does nothing to ease the strain, except cause Addison to focus. Really hone in. On Meredith's eyes, and the pitch of her voice when she says "Shepherd?"
She doesn't know. Not some game of willfull blindness like the one Addison and Derek have been playing for at least two years. She never saw Addison coming, not by a mile, and couldn't have because the guy who should've given her any kind of warning was probably useless. Like now, gaping and gasping like a sacked quarterback and yes, Addison *can* use sports metaphors after surviving years of hostile tv takeovers from both of the men in her life.
Both of the men.
And the fight in her is wilting, because what is she actually doing here? What good can come of this except to have everyone else just as miserable. And that's what she thinks as Derek and Meredith walk out: Meredith's spine rigid with anger that will give out in time. Give way once she realizes that Derek talks more than he actually says anything of consequence.
Misery. All around.
"Maybe in another life
We wouldn't be alone tonight
I've hurt you I can see
Do you think its not hurting me?"
Richard is the one who tells Addison about Meredith. What surprises her is not that she exists-- no, some part of her was prepared for it in a fight or flight type of way-- but the way Richard tells it. This strange combination of angry and wistful, like it's the intern he's really worried about, and it isn't until Addison processes the last name that something registers. Grey. Ellis Grey.
But Derek is central to her brain even as she's preparing her entrance. It's caddy, and probably beneath her--Addison doesn't need lipstick and pin curls to win, but she'll use them. And she's glad she did when she sees the two of them in the lobby, so effortlessly moving as a unit--Meredith's body turned into Derek's without even knowing it, and damn it. It hits Addison like a gut punch. Her husband. Hers. So willing to belong to someone else, even for a minute, and this has got to be worse than Mark. Got to be.
Instincts tell her to fall back. Retreat and see to her heart while there's something left to mend, but then she's introducing herself. Hand outstretched, ice cold, even as she hears blood pumping rapidly under her skin.
And the real shock is that it doesn't help at all, cutting into this girl, quick and fast. It does nothing to ease the strain, except cause Addison to focus. Really hone in. On Meredith's eyes, and the pitch of her voice when she says "Shepherd?"
She doesn't know. Not some game of willfull blindness like the one Addison and Derek have been playing for at least two years. She never saw Addison coming, not by a mile, and couldn't have because the guy who should've given her any kind of warning was probably useless. Like now, gaping and gasping like a sacked quarterback and yes, Addison *can* use sports metaphors after surviving years of hostile tv takeovers from both of the men in her life.
Both of the men.
And the fight in her is wilting, because what is she actually doing here? What good can come of this except to have everyone else just as miserable. And that's what she thinks as Derek and Meredith walk out: Meredith's spine rigid with anger that will give out in time. Give way once she realizes that Derek talks more than he actually says anything of consequence.
Misery. All around.