In The Attics Of Our Brains
Title: In The Attics Of Our Brains 2/?
Author: page_boy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mutli-Chapter, Post S3 Finale, where Sam and Addison attempt to have a relationship without a definition, and where actual families force themselves into the lives of their replacements.
A/N: Many thanks and non-stop props to my beta Jamie, who is incredibly awesome and who made this story legible. Thanks Jamie!
Robert Jackson held his son for about thirty seconds before deciding to run. It hadn’t been the initial plan. While he may not have been completely in love with Evelyn yet, and secretly hadn’t been at all at the time of his son’s conception, he liked her well enough. She was pretty and sweet, stubborn with greater religious convictions than he was used to, a real family girl, completely enamored of him.
So when she told him she was pregnant, he told her they would get married. Not until after the baby was born, Evelyn had decided. She didn’t want to hide the mistake she had made or make people feel as though they were trying to pull a fast one, crossing their fingers that no one would due the math back from the due date. She would have the baby, and they would love him, and they would love each other, and then they would get married.
-o-
She’s not judging, she’s just concerned. Addison, obviously, understands avoidance, but that being said she’s always found it easier to avoid a problem that has already been to a certain extent acknowledged. Her father being a whore was hardly ever a secret, but it was a concrete fact that could be locked behind the “Do Not Disturb” door of her brain. Likewise with Bizzy’s lesbianism. What Sam’s doing now, however, is basically the equivalent of her showing up in Seattle, eyes screwed shut, fingers in her ears, replying “Meredith who?” to all of Derek’s declarations of adulterous love.
He doesn’t want to meet him. Sam doesn’t seem especially angry, or disturbed, or even shook up, but he doesn’t want to meet him.
“I’ve gone forty years without a father,” he explains that same night over a glass of wine and a delicious dinner. “And… well I was angry, sure, back when I was a kid. But I have a family now, and it’s complete without him in it.”
If she was still nothing more than Sam’s annoying friend, over sharing and crossing boundaries comforted by a platonic safety net, Addison would be pushing him much harder. But she’s more now, so she doesn’t. She treads cautiously, careful not to step onto any old wounds. “It just feels like you have a opportunity now. I mean, he’s only in town for a few days. What if he leaves and…. and that’s just it?”
“That’s all it was before,” Sam replies stubbornly, unwilling to open a chapter of his life that has been long since slammed shut.
“Before he wasn’t hanging out at St. Ambrose,” Addison points out, “I mean… don’t you even want to see him?”
“Addison, my father doesn’t even realize I’m here. And if he does, there’s a good chance he doesn’t want to see me either.” The words sound juvenile even to him, but it’s the sort of argument Sam doesn’t mind making to her. She, more than anyone else he knows, get the emotional backpedaling that occurs whenever parents and childhood collides with one’s current existence.
“Who says he has to?”
-o-
They go to bed that night, dropping the father subject for a much more pleasant one, namely each other. Sam runs his tongue over the gentle shell of her ear, his hand over the lovely swell of her buttocks, and underneath him Addison’s body opens up at his touch. He doesn’t think he’ll ever grow accustomed to being with her. He believes that he’ll wake up every day a little unsure and unsteady, but gloriously so. She makes everything that’s bad bearable and everything that's good better, and as she kisses him he thinks this is family.
-o-
He looks just like Sam, to the extent that she was quite thrown the first time he came in to visit his stepdaughter, Addison’s patient, Melanie. A little taller, more slender, but he has the same eyes and the same smile. More excitable; he seemed slightly uneasy around the young pregnant girl, though she smiled at him with fondness. He fidgeted with his hat and his glasses throughout Addison’s entire exam, but stayed bedside despite his discomfort.
Loyalty demands that Addison hate this man. After all, he’s caused her best friend turned boyfriend some significant emotional damage, most of which probably has yet to be acknowledged, plus caused undue stress and pain to Sam’s mother, a woman who Addison respects and cares about very much. And yet, within the sterile confines of the hospital walls, he doesn’t seem reckless, irresponsible, cruel. He seems nice (the word familiar comes to mind).
Her mind is busy, rushing through all these thoughts while at the same time trying to catalogue the rest of her week, when the elevator is halted by a hand, Naomi’s.
“Addison!” her friend greets her brightly, and when was the last time she saw Naomi, spoke with her in the way they used to? The funeral, maybe. Naomi had been crying, and she had instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders, but no, they hadn’t talked then. Before that she had been in Switzerland, and before that… well, it had been a while.
“Naomi,” she nods back, aware that she’s being slightly cold but unable to shake off this morning’s pre-work doldrums. “You seem - you’re in a good mood.”
“Trying to be,” is the reply. “I visited Maya last night. And... I’m seeing someone.”
“Fife?”
“Gabriel,” Naomi correct, grinning. “We’re dating now, I figured it was time to move him up to first-name basis.”
Addison gets out a laugh, as the doors to the fourth floor opens. Strange, how little she knows about the man who has apparently cheered her friend up so effectively; how she has no idea at what point Naomi stopped deciding to hate him. “Well it’s… really good to see you smiling,” she says sincerely, stepping off into Oceanside’s lobby.
It’s not until she’s in her office, flipping through her appointment book that she realizes Robert is Maya’s grandfather, was at one point Naomi’s father-in-law, even if he didn’t know it.
Separating fetal blood vessels is generally considering an incredibly daunting, difficult task. Really, it’s the broader connections that require more skill to dismantle.
-o-
“What’s the plan?” Sam mutters, clothed in non-descript but annoying vibrant purple scrubs, head buried in a chart that has never been filled out, is assigned to no one. His back is to the door that Addison claims his father is behind. His inhaler is within reach.
“No plan, really,” she answers, leaning against the opposite wall, facing the room. “I tell you when he comes out, you turn around or don’t.”
“And if I don’t?” It all seems a little surreal, scripted. History seems to suggest he won’t be able to; confrontation has never been his strong suit. It’s something that Sam has been trying to work on, being bold, being honest, not letting people slip away without a fight, without letting him have his say. But this is something different. The thought occurs, suddenly, that perhaps he should call his mom.
Addison pauses for a second before answering. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. But don’t not do it because you think you can’t. You can. It’s just a matter of whether or not you want to.” She had convinced herself that she couldn’t kick her parents out, had to live with them and their secrets and lies until they decided enough was enough and she could be free. She didn’t want Sam to feel like that, like the situation was out of his hands and he was just along for the incredibly complicated ride. “But either way, it’ll all be fine. Okay? I promise.”
Sam smiles a takes a step forward, eyes still glued to the chart, leaving enough room between them that it could still be taken for a professional distance unless you were really paying attention. “If we weren’t in the middle of a crowded hospital right now, I’d kiss you.”
“If we weren’t in the hospital, I’d let you.”
-o-
When the labor had started she had tried calling him, but he was in the middle of an untimely shift at the factory and couldn’t be reached. By the time he got the messages, and rushed over to the hospital, she was passed out against the standard-issue cushion, skin still flushed from exertion. In the corner, the nurse who was wrapping up the baby, brightened when he came skidding into the room.
“You must be the father!” she said brightly. “She’s just closed her eyes, so exhausted poor thing. Would you like to hold your son while you wait for her to wake up?”
“My son?” he asked dumbly, unable to make out any of the baby’s features, so covered he was in blanket. The nurse nodded pleasantly, and pressed the baby into his arms, making sure he was supporting the head properly before disappearing out the door.
There was no good reason for what he did. He just looked down at the baby (still the baby, not his son), and realized he couldn’t do it. And the next thing he knew, he was running out the door. He left them.
-o-
Sam turns around. He couldn’t not, not after he noticed Addison’s suddenly rigid posture and wide eyes over his shoulder. He turns, and he stares, and then he tugs Addison’s hand, pulling her down the hall. “Let’s go.”
Author: page_boy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mutli-Chapter, Post S3 Finale, where Sam and Addison attempt to have a relationship without a definition, and where actual families force themselves into the lives of their replacements.
A/N: Many thanks and non-stop props to my beta Jamie, who is incredibly awesome and who made this story legible. Thanks Jamie!
Robert Jackson held his son for about thirty seconds before deciding to run. It hadn’t been the initial plan. While he may not have been completely in love with Evelyn yet, and secretly hadn’t been at all at the time of his son’s conception, he liked her well enough. She was pretty and sweet, stubborn with greater religious convictions than he was used to, a real family girl, completely enamored of him.
So when she told him she was pregnant, he told her they would get married. Not until after the baby was born, Evelyn had decided. She didn’t want to hide the mistake she had made or make people feel as though they were trying to pull a fast one, crossing their fingers that no one would due the math back from the due date. She would have the baby, and they would love him, and they would love each other, and then they would get married.
-o-
She’s not judging, she’s just concerned. Addison, obviously, understands avoidance, but that being said she’s always found it easier to avoid a problem that has already been to a certain extent acknowledged. Her father being a whore was hardly ever a secret, but it was a concrete fact that could be locked behind the “Do Not Disturb” door of her brain. Likewise with Bizzy’s lesbianism. What Sam’s doing now, however, is basically the equivalent of her showing up in Seattle, eyes screwed shut, fingers in her ears, replying “Meredith who?” to all of Derek’s declarations of adulterous love.
He doesn’t want to meet him. Sam doesn’t seem especially angry, or disturbed, or even shook up, but he doesn’t want to meet him.
“I’ve gone forty years without a father,” he explains that same night over a glass of wine and a delicious dinner. “And… well I was angry, sure, back when I was a kid. But I have a family now, and it’s complete without him in it.”
If she was still nothing more than Sam’s annoying friend, over sharing and crossing boundaries comforted by a platonic safety net, Addison would be pushing him much harder. But she’s more now, so she doesn’t. She treads cautiously, careful not to step onto any old wounds. “It just feels like you have a opportunity now. I mean, he’s only in town for a few days. What if he leaves and…. and that’s just it?”
“That’s all it was before,” Sam replies stubbornly, unwilling to open a chapter of his life that has been long since slammed shut.
“Before he wasn’t hanging out at St. Ambrose,” Addison points out, “I mean… don’t you even want to see him?”
“Addison, my father doesn’t even realize I’m here. And if he does, there’s a good chance he doesn’t want to see me either.” The words sound juvenile even to him, but it’s the sort of argument Sam doesn’t mind making to her. She, more than anyone else he knows, get the emotional backpedaling that occurs whenever parents and childhood collides with one’s current existence.
“Who says he has to?”
-o-
They go to bed that night, dropping the father subject for a much more pleasant one, namely each other. Sam runs his tongue over the gentle shell of her ear, his hand over the lovely swell of her buttocks, and underneath him Addison’s body opens up at his touch. He doesn’t think he’ll ever grow accustomed to being with her. He believes that he’ll wake up every day a little unsure and unsteady, but gloriously so. She makes everything that’s bad bearable and everything that's good better, and as she kisses him he thinks this is family.
-o-
He looks just like Sam, to the extent that she was quite thrown the first time he came in to visit his stepdaughter, Addison’s patient, Melanie. A little taller, more slender, but he has the same eyes and the same smile. More excitable; he seemed slightly uneasy around the young pregnant girl, though she smiled at him with fondness. He fidgeted with his hat and his glasses throughout Addison’s entire exam, but stayed bedside despite his discomfort.
Loyalty demands that Addison hate this man. After all, he’s caused her best friend turned boyfriend some significant emotional damage, most of which probably has yet to be acknowledged, plus caused undue stress and pain to Sam’s mother, a woman who Addison respects and cares about very much. And yet, within the sterile confines of the hospital walls, he doesn’t seem reckless, irresponsible, cruel. He seems nice (the word familiar comes to mind).
Her mind is busy, rushing through all these thoughts while at the same time trying to catalogue the rest of her week, when the elevator is halted by a hand, Naomi’s.
“Addison!” her friend greets her brightly, and when was the last time she saw Naomi, spoke with her in the way they used to? The funeral, maybe. Naomi had been crying, and she had instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders, but no, they hadn’t talked then. Before that she had been in Switzerland, and before that… well, it had been a while.
“Naomi,” she nods back, aware that she’s being slightly cold but unable to shake off this morning’s pre-work doldrums. “You seem - you’re in a good mood.”
“Trying to be,” is the reply. “I visited Maya last night. And... I’m seeing someone.”
“Fife?”
“Gabriel,” Naomi correct, grinning. “We’re dating now, I figured it was time to move him up to first-name basis.”
Addison gets out a laugh, as the doors to the fourth floor opens. Strange, how little she knows about the man who has apparently cheered her friend up so effectively; how she has no idea at what point Naomi stopped deciding to hate him. “Well it’s… really good to see you smiling,” she says sincerely, stepping off into Oceanside’s lobby.
It’s not until she’s in her office, flipping through her appointment book that she realizes Robert is Maya’s grandfather, was at one point Naomi’s father-in-law, even if he didn’t know it.
Separating fetal blood vessels is generally considering an incredibly daunting, difficult task. Really, it’s the broader connections that require more skill to dismantle.
-o-
“What’s the plan?” Sam mutters, clothed in non-descript but annoying vibrant purple scrubs, head buried in a chart that has never been filled out, is assigned to no one. His back is to the door that Addison claims his father is behind. His inhaler is within reach.
“No plan, really,” she answers, leaning against the opposite wall, facing the room. “I tell you when he comes out, you turn around or don’t.”
“And if I don’t?” It all seems a little surreal, scripted. History seems to suggest he won’t be able to; confrontation has never been his strong suit. It’s something that Sam has been trying to work on, being bold, being honest, not letting people slip away without a fight, without letting him have his say. But this is something different. The thought occurs, suddenly, that perhaps he should call his mom.
Addison pauses for a second before answering. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. But don’t not do it because you think you can’t. You can. It’s just a matter of whether or not you want to.” She had convinced herself that she couldn’t kick her parents out, had to live with them and their secrets and lies until they decided enough was enough and she could be free. She didn’t want Sam to feel like that, like the situation was out of his hands and he was just along for the incredibly complicated ride. “But either way, it’ll all be fine. Okay? I promise.”
Sam smiles a takes a step forward, eyes still glued to the chart, leaving enough room between them that it could still be taken for a professional distance unless you were really paying attention. “If we weren’t in the middle of a crowded hospital right now, I’d kiss you.”
“If we weren’t in the hospital, I’d let you.”
-o-
When the labor had started she had tried calling him, but he was in the middle of an untimely shift at the factory and couldn’t be reached. By the time he got the messages, and rushed over to the hospital, she was passed out against the standard-issue cushion, skin still flushed from exertion. In the corner, the nurse who was wrapping up the baby, brightened when he came skidding into the room.
“You must be the father!” she said brightly. “She’s just closed her eyes, so exhausted poor thing. Would you like to hold your son while you wait for her to wake up?”
“My son?” he asked dumbly, unable to make out any of the baby’s features, so covered he was in blanket. The nurse nodded pleasantly, and pressed the baby into his arms, making sure he was supporting the head properly before disappearing out the door.
There was no good reason for what he did. He just looked down at the baby (still the baby, not his son), and realized he couldn’t do it. And the next thing he knew, he was running out the door. He left them.
-o-
Sam turns around. He couldn’t not, not after he noticed Addison’s suddenly rigid posture and wide eyes over his shoulder. He turns, and he stares, and then he tugs Addison’s hand, pulling her down the hall. “Let’s go.”