(no subject)
Title: There Are Some Remedies Worse Than The Disease
Part: 1/?
Pairing(s): Noah/Addison, Pete/Addison, Pete/Violet, and some Sam/Addison friendship. Addison-centric.
Rating: R
Summary: Continuation of 2.22. Everyone struggles to find their footholds while dealing with disasters of their own making.
A/N: Because I like messes, this happened. Hopefully, only two parts, we'll see what my brain does. Also, all cut lyrics will belong to Chelsea Wolfe's Mistake in Parting. Enjoy-
~-~-~-~-~-~
There Are Some Remedies Worse Than The Disease
- This Will Destroy You
~-~-~-~-~-~
“What the hell is wrong with today?” The voice across the room catches Pete's attention. If not for the tone, but for the person. One Addison Montgomery is hunched over in a chair clutching her scalp like she's about to skin herself.
“Excuse me?” Pete asks, happy to take on someone else's issues while they all wait for Violet to come out of the anesthesia and make a miraculous appearance.
“It's just,” Addison drops a bunch of red hair and holds her hands up to the heavens begging for some mercy. Between Archer, Naomi, the pending lawsuit, Morgan, Noah, and now Violet her plate is a little full, and she needs a moment spent where she isn't spinning out and going in nine different directions. “What is wrong with people here?”
“Los Angeles,” Pete clarifies, getting the answer in her eyes as she shrugs back at him. “Maybe it's all the sun.”
“Who does that to someone else? To someone's baby?” Addison asks, trying to wrap her head around it. Sure, she's seen all types of crazy, and has her own bag of magic, but this is unthinkable. And frankly she's worn down here, chipped and cracked, men working her over without care (but with her express permission), her own mind landing her in one ditch after another.
“She's sick Addison,” Pete tells her, recalling Katy and her devious plan to cut a child from its mother.
“Still,” Addison sighs, leaning back against the chair, drawing her knees toward her chest. She counts to three and then tries another subject with the jumpy man to her left. “He looked...good,” she sputters, trying not to scare him.
“I'm...happy,” Pete answers, in relation to the tiny baby upstairs being fawned over and addressed very carefully by Charlotte King herself and a very dedicated group of professionals who kicked Addison out minutes ago. He thought she may yell at them, but instead she resigned to the waiting area quietly, having had enough already.
He walked out of his own volition. Traditional medical procedures, especially on someone close to him, they aren't his thing.
“You don't look happy,” Addison ascertains, glancing at him once more. His hands are wrung tight, knuckles white, and his right leg is bouncing up and down uncontrollably.
“How's Noah?”
Addison frowns and glares at her co-worker, signaling him that it is time to move on. She doesn't know how Noah is. Her voicemail, however, knows very well. “He looks like you a little. The eyes, the nose. I mean he's going to have Violet's hair and chin but...the rest, I think...it's you.” And she would know, because this is what she does, studying other people's little miracles, dreaming of her own.
“Don't know,” Pete responds, trying not to think about it. He agreed to be with Violet, kind of. Keyed her in on his feelings but the world is turning backwards right now and he just can't comprehend being a father. He feels a freak out on the horizon. “I heard about Naomi,” Pete says a few seconds later, as they trade daggers.
“Yeah,” Addison nods. Word still spread like wildfire no matter where you were on that issue.
“What are you going to do Boss?” Pete laughs a little, drinking in her shivers.
Addison flips her head around, focusing on Pete for a minute. Pete who has stepped up and been her friend when no one else has bothered speaking to her, Pete who has had her back through out the weird ongoing Noah thing. She swallows heavily at the thought of Naomi leaving them, of her being “there” but always out of reach. Isn't that exactly where everyone else in her life is- at an arm's reach. Besides it feels like just yesterday that they finally made up and now she's being abandoned again. “She says it's not her practice anymore. I want her to be happy, personally. Professionally, it's an amazing offer, but...”
“She's your friend,” Pete finishes for her, leaving her to her subtle sniffling in the corner.
“Yeah,” Addison agrees, “she's my friend. I moved here to...and now...I don't want to do this alone.”
“Cooper, Sam and I aren't going anywhere,” Pete assures her quietly, watching as a few nurses scuttle past the dimly lit room without any news for him.
“I know,” Addison croaks, voice tender and strained. Except, Violet is out indefinitely, Pete will be a mess, and Cooper will need time off to watch Violet. Basically, she and Sam will be running the practice while Dell prances around trying to be useful.
Lord how it's been a long day. She rests her palm on her cheek, supporting her entire upper body on an elbow pressed into her leg. She feels like she could topple over at any moment; she thinks that maybe she wouldn't mind a nice push over the edge. “It was supposed to be better...here.”
~-~-~-~-~-~
“Dr. Wilder-” the nurse in front of him speaks, her thin frame shaking as she clutches at the hem of her shirt. Pete simply looks up and nods, noting the taller, more in charge looking person pacing to catch up. Addison is still next to him, even after he insist she go home and sleep or drink, saying that he needed her here, it was the least she could offer. So he tries to interpret her face, the little lines giving away that she at least knows who these people are.
“If you could come with us,” the taller one says to him, brushing her honey-colored hair off her shoulder, “we have some things to speak about.”
Pete feels his legs rise on their own, Addison hot on his trail, but they stop shortly, coming to a rest right outside a dimly lit room, eerily quiet. “Just Dr. Wilder,” the nurse says to Addison and she backs off, content to go back and wallow in the indent she's made over the last few hours.
Sometimes he's not sure she can move, even when she wants to.
Pete thinks he'll never forget that click, the silent sealing of his fate as he stared at a lifeless blanket. Five hours, fighting like hell, and it was all for not. Whatever it was, the freaky anesthetic, or the impromptu c-section-he just couldn't handle it. He was ready, but not okay with being mangled, torn from the person who was supposed to protect him.
People, who were supposed to keep him safe.
Pete reaches out slowly, being offered the body he would have called a son, regardless of the Sheldon situation. He wonders if Violet knows, if she can sense it somehow. Selfishly, he wonders if he'll have to suffer through them telling her too.
On another level he's relieved. Nothing matters anymore.
~-~-~-~-~-~
“Addison?” Noah calls out cautiously, the darkened room holding only one familiar face. He watches her kick out her legs, knees stretching toward the floor, her shoulders helplessly slumped. “You okay?”
Addison rolls her eyes to herself, huffs out a reply, and attempts to stand, falling into a pathetic pile that Noah graciously catches and holds upright. “Sorry,” she murmurs, looking around for a clock, certain a day and a half has elapsed. Her legs tingle, previously unaware that she had been slowly cutting off the circulation to them.
“Don't,” he holds a hand out to stop her. She looks far too beaten down to stand, but all of a sudden she recoils, energy bounding from nowhere, a small smile on her face. “I-”
“You should be with Morgan,” Addison nods, looking at her watch again, feet aching as she stands. “I'll check in on her in the morning. Excuse me.”
She's about to tear through the empty hallway, a flame spreading toward her escape route, when she feels a warm hand on her arm. She can't deny that it feels good. He spins her back, forcing the eye contact she has grown to hate. There's nothing worse than looking there and finding nothing, or in this instance something too consuming to ignore. “Noah-”
“Addison,” he breathes, tracing her jaw lightly. It's been a big day, he's a father, but all he wanted to do was come tell her the great news, as if she didn't know. He always seems to jog toward her, no matter how much they are hurting everyone else around them. The last few months, for him, have been pleasure laced in torture, and he's ready to break the shackles that prevent their happiness. Selfishly though, he wants to kiss her now.
“I need to go,” Addison says weakly, her statement gaining no steam.
“Dr. Montgomery?” A voice squeaks behind her, saving her from whatever crimes they are about to commit. She needs that one day without coveting, without sinning.
“Yes?”
“Dr. Wilder needs...can you come with me please? We need you immediately.”
~-~-~-~-~-~
“Pete?” Addison whispers, stepping into the very space she was booted from hours before. Tenderly, she places a reluctant hand on his shoulder. It's late and she'd love nothing more than her bed, or a bed somewhere, but he's been unexpectedly good to her. She tries to repay favors when possible.
“Pete,” she hisses softly, melancholy stinging filling the vast space around them.
“I'm fine,” Pete tells her, scrubbing a hand over his face, eyes squinting as he turns around and faces the bright hallway behind her. “I'm good actually,” he decides. “I'm going to go...home. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Addison knows he won't be there tomorrow, even if he doesn't yet. She's done this carousel ride before. “Pete,” she demands, drawing nothing from the visibly shaken man in front of her. And despite her career focus, and the sheer volume of deaths she's dealt with over the years, she is no good at this. Not when it's personal, not when it's paramount.
She makes stupid jokes, giggles when she shouldn't be giggling, and through her training she learned that staying silent was better. After a while she mastered the look of sympathy, but none of that is acceptable. Pete deserves more than her well rehearsed speeches, doled out to one grieving parent after another.
“Pete!” she yells, striding forward, shoulders back and determined for the first time all night.
“You should check on Violet,” Pete murmurs, turning back around. “I'm good,” he repeats to her.
“I know,” Addison whispers, wrapping her tired arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. After a few seconds he responds, burying his head in her neck, positive she can feel the moisture that's beginning to gather. “We're all good,” Addison mumbles, gripping him tighter. “We're all okay.”
~-~-~-~-~-~
By Tuesday the domino effect is in full force, the intensity of what had happened, shuffling her personnel until she was the only one left besides the receptionist. However, she was busy. And thankful. After Dell popped into her office after lunch to tell her he had to go pick up his daughter because she was sick, well that was the straw that broke the camel's back. So now she sips at her coffee, crushing the container, wishing she had a punching bag. She can feel the stress in her chest, and there's no sign of adrenaline coming in to save the day.
There's never any relief on the horizon anymore.
No, instead, she's forced to give plain exams, explain why her co-workers are missing, and talk a very disturbed patient of Violet's off the hypothetical ledge of a building. All in a day's work for Addison Montgomery, the one woman practice running machine. And before, when she felt like she was the only one working, the only one generating revenue, she at least had Sam. Sam who has been on a house call for the last six hours without any word or indication as to how it is going.
Addison settles into her office chair with a loud, begrudging, groan. She allows her feet free of their black captors, running them along the rug on the floor. Gently she compartmentalizes the day, assured that tomorrow can be no worse. Then she picks up a pen and begins the task of running through every single thing she's accomplished today.
That in itself feels good.
“Addison?” Noah greets, letting himself into her office. “Quiet in here today.”
“Just me,” Addison grins. And when he tells her that it's good that they are alone a knot begins to form in her throat.
“I want to leave her,” Noah declares. “It's just...he's so perfect Addison. He sleeps and he-”
“I'm well versed in babies,” she reminds him, not caring to hear about how excited another person is to be a proud mommy or daddy. It's never her turn, and she hasn't enough energy to pretend to be interested in a three day old child who can hardly see the world he is encased in.
“Right,” Noah nods. “I love him but... I want to leave her.”
“Shouldn't make promises-”
“It's not a promise Addison,” Noah interrupts. “I'm telling you what's happening. We could be together, I want to be together.”
“You don't know what you're doing,” Addison informs him, but she does, excruciatingly well. It never goes how you plan, how you hope. It's difficult to cut and run, even when it's clear you don't belong.
“I still want us.” Noah grabs her free hand, the one not fiddling with a pen and squeezes lightly. “I love you Addison.”
And she smiles despite herself, because proclamations of love tend to warm her soul, and because it doesn't scare her when it comes out of his mouth. The rest of it, his marriage, his son, that's scary, but them in the simplicity of being together is not frightening. It sounds nothing short of wonderful. “I can't...do this. You can't do this Noah. You have a family now, and that's...it's more important than whatever we were doing.”
His fingers slide up her bare arm, enjoying the jolts of electricity he is positive they both feel. Her skin is impossibly soft, and he thinks he could spend the rest of his life mapping her curves, her scars. “You are important to me,” he reveals genuinely. It's quite inconceivable, he's not this guy.
He was a better man before Addison Montgomery.
He was wavering, but better. Unhappy, but better. And now he can't control himself. His lips edge along hers, nipping, fighting, biting until she responds. He loves the way her hands play with his hair, the way they fall down his chest. This time he is fulfilled with only kissing her, to never have to see the way she was disgusted with herself when they pulled apart before. Personally, he just hated that it had to end. He pushes her up out of her chair, onto the desk, wanting nothing more than a little extra contact as her legs wrap around him.
He doesn't count on her hand grabbing his belt.
~-~-~-~-~-~
In reflection, Noah still slouched over her stomach, Addison feels the need to sprint out of the room. It had to be done, she reckons. They never would have stopped themselves until they got to this point, the fuzzy edges of euphoria still ripping through her chest. She feels feathery kisses along her skin, and is pulled toward the couch seconds later.
He holds her in a manner that makes her wish that he doesn't have to let go at some point. He understands her in a way that she's not sure anyone ever has before, seeing through her facade instantly. Completely naked, exposed, blinds to her office not even drawn, she lies halfway on top of him.
Nothing has ever felt better and coincidentally worse. She's never hated herself more than she does in this moment. “We shouldn't have-”
“Don't...ruin it,” Noah breathes out. “Don't trivialize it like that Addison.” He wants to do that every second of every day for the rest of his life. He could never tire of the way she moves her hips, the way she moans. But it's more than that, it's the connection they share, the comfort.
“You can't have us both.” She wishes she was a stronger person, wishes that maybe in a perfect world they could all be raising that tiny baby boy. She would love nothing more than the opportunity to raise a child, but she's wise enough to know it couldn't possibly work.
People don't forgive in her world. It would constantly float above their heads, ready at the will of any fight. It could never be blameless, and she couldn't fathom doing that to a child.
“I choose you.”
She doesn't bother telling him about the mistake he's just made, he'll figure it out sooner or later.
~-~-~-~-~-~
“Who was at the door?” Sam asks, nursing his beer, feet dangling into the sand.
“I don't want to talk about it,” Addison answers, running a hand through her wind blown hair. Noah has shown up every night for the last week. And she's yet to open the door. Because she doesn't know what that entails. There's chaos blowing outside her house, and if she opened the option for him to come in and sweep her off her feet, she's not sure she could ever close it again.
“Fair enough,” Sam replies, handing her the wine glass she discarded earlier. “Heard from Naomi?”
“Yeah,” Addison nods. “She sounds happy.”
“You know, it's weird. She's right downstairs...but I never see her. Charlotte King on the other hand...”
“True,” Addison smiles. Charlotte was always around. Naomi hasn't dared to step a foot into the haunted place she discarded. She pauses out of habit, Sam taking to the ocean once more. “We're pathetic.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sam kids without looking over at her.
“I...am. Definitely pathetic,” Addison gulps. “He has a family, a son, and I think I have some sort of right to interfere-”
“Am I allowed to speak?” Sam wonders aloud, turning around, feet kicking up a puff of sand as he goes. When she says nothing he takes thinks it safe to continue. “We don't know what's best for people, maybe he needs to walk away from that,” Sam nods, encouraging himself. “Sometimes people have to walk away.”
Secretly she wonders why it is that everyone has to walk away from her, how long it will take her to make Noah dash off in the other direction.
~-~-~-~-~-~
“Noah,” Addison shouts loudly, opening the door on the eighth day. “Please leave me alon- Pete?”
“Violet...” Pete ambles forward, shrugging his jacket off onto her floor, leaving her to scoop up the mess and place it on the hanging pegs. “She won't talk to me. She wants happy, and then she just...shuts me out.”
“Pete,” Addison chides instantly. “She's going through-”
“I'm going through it too!” Pete yells at her suddenly, the magnitude of the last week weighing him down. “She doesn't...she won't involve me, and Cooper-”
“Cooper is her friend, maybe it's easier for her,” Addison excuses. She doesn't know Violet well enough to understand much of anything but Pete is so enraged that she feels little in the way of other options.
“I should be what's easier, it should be me,” Pete mumbles as he falls onto her couch, the doors opened to the rumbling ocean. “It's never going to be me.”
Addison pulls a pillow into her lap, placing her bare feet on the coffee table. “I'm sorry Pete.” She watches him shake his head, trying to rid himself of the despair they've become shrouded in. She'd commiserate with him, offer some of her own sordid tales, but it's not the time for that.
“Addison,” Pete whispers, absorbing her hesitance. They both know it's coming. Inevitable from that day in the stairwell.
Seconds later, the pillow she was clutching has been thrown to the floor, Pete's body crushing her own. Her mouth hungrily seeks out his, frustrated and aching, the throbbing between her legs already enough to make her squirm in delight and anticipation.
She'd stop him, but sex with men who don't truly want her is becoming, if nothing else, a specialty of sorts.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Part: 1/?
Pairing(s): Noah/Addison, Pete/Addison, Pete/Violet, and some Sam/Addison friendship. Addison-centric.
Rating: R
Summary: Continuation of 2.22. Everyone struggles to find their footholds while dealing with disasters of their own making.
A/N: Because I like messes, this happened. Hopefully, only two parts, we'll see what my brain does. Also, all cut lyrics will belong to Chelsea Wolfe's Mistake in Parting. Enjoy-
~-~-~-~-~-~
There Are Some Remedies Worse Than The Disease
- This Will Destroy You
~-~-~-~-~-~
“What the hell is wrong with today?” The voice across the room catches Pete's attention. If not for the tone, but for the person. One Addison Montgomery is hunched over in a chair clutching her scalp like she's about to skin herself.
“Excuse me?” Pete asks, happy to take on someone else's issues while they all wait for Violet to come out of the anesthesia and make a miraculous appearance.
“It's just,” Addison drops a bunch of red hair and holds her hands up to the heavens begging for some mercy. Between Archer, Naomi, the pending lawsuit, Morgan, Noah, and now Violet her plate is a little full, and she needs a moment spent where she isn't spinning out and going in nine different directions. “What is wrong with people here?”
“Los Angeles,” Pete clarifies, getting the answer in her eyes as she shrugs back at him. “Maybe it's all the sun.”
“Who does that to someone else? To someone's baby?” Addison asks, trying to wrap her head around it. Sure, she's seen all types of crazy, and has her own bag of magic, but this is unthinkable. And frankly she's worn down here, chipped and cracked, men working her over without care (but with her express permission), her own mind landing her in one ditch after another.
“She's sick Addison,” Pete tells her, recalling Katy and her devious plan to cut a child from its mother.
“Still,” Addison sighs, leaning back against the chair, drawing her knees toward her chest. She counts to three and then tries another subject with the jumpy man to her left. “He looked...good,” she sputters, trying not to scare him.
“I'm...happy,” Pete answers, in relation to the tiny baby upstairs being fawned over and addressed very carefully by Charlotte King herself and a very dedicated group of professionals who kicked Addison out minutes ago. He thought she may yell at them, but instead she resigned to the waiting area quietly, having had enough already.
He walked out of his own volition. Traditional medical procedures, especially on someone close to him, they aren't his thing.
“You don't look happy,” Addison ascertains, glancing at him once more. His hands are wrung tight, knuckles white, and his right leg is bouncing up and down uncontrollably.
“How's Noah?”
Addison frowns and glares at her co-worker, signaling him that it is time to move on. She doesn't know how Noah is. Her voicemail, however, knows very well. “He looks like you a little. The eyes, the nose. I mean he's going to have Violet's hair and chin but...the rest, I think...it's you.” And she would know, because this is what she does, studying other people's little miracles, dreaming of her own.
“Don't know,” Pete responds, trying not to think about it. He agreed to be with Violet, kind of. Keyed her in on his feelings but the world is turning backwards right now and he just can't comprehend being a father. He feels a freak out on the horizon. “I heard about Naomi,” Pete says a few seconds later, as they trade daggers.
“Yeah,” Addison nods. Word still spread like wildfire no matter where you were on that issue.
“What are you going to do Boss?” Pete laughs a little, drinking in her shivers.
Addison flips her head around, focusing on Pete for a minute. Pete who has stepped up and been her friend when no one else has bothered speaking to her, Pete who has had her back through out the weird ongoing Noah thing. She swallows heavily at the thought of Naomi leaving them, of her being “there” but always out of reach. Isn't that exactly where everyone else in her life is- at an arm's reach. Besides it feels like just yesterday that they finally made up and now she's being abandoned again. “She says it's not her practice anymore. I want her to be happy, personally. Professionally, it's an amazing offer, but...”
“She's your friend,” Pete finishes for her, leaving her to her subtle sniffling in the corner.
“Yeah,” Addison agrees, “she's my friend. I moved here to...and now...I don't want to do this alone.”
“Cooper, Sam and I aren't going anywhere,” Pete assures her quietly, watching as a few nurses scuttle past the dimly lit room without any news for him.
“I know,” Addison croaks, voice tender and strained. Except, Violet is out indefinitely, Pete will be a mess, and Cooper will need time off to watch Violet. Basically, she and Sam will be running the practice while Dell prances around trying to be useful.
Lord how it's been a long day. She rests her palm on her cheek, supporting her entire upper body on an elbow pressed into her leg. She feels like she could topple over at any moment; she thinks that maybe she wouldn't mind a nice push over the edge. “It was supposed to be better...here.”
~-~-~-~-~-~
“Dr. Wilder-” the nurse in front of him speaks, her thin frame shaking as she clutches at the hem of her shirt. Pete simply looks up and nods, noting the taller, more in charge looking person pacing to catch up. Addison is still next to him, even after he insist she go home and sleep or drink, saying that he needed her here, it was the least she could offer. So he tries to interpret her face, the little lines giving away that she at least knows who these people are.
“If you could come with us,” the taller one says to him, brushing her honey-colored hair off her shoulder, “we have some things to speak about.”
Pete feels his legs rise on their own, Addison hot on his trail, but they stop shortly, coming to a rest right outside a dimly lit room, eerily quiet. “Just Dr. Wilder,” the nurse says to Addison and she backs off, content to go back and wallow in the indent she's made over the last few hours.
Sometimes he's not sure she can move, even when she wants to.
Pete thinks he'll never forget that click, the silent sealing of his fate as he stared at a lifeless blanket. Five hours, fighting like hell, and it was all for not. Whatever it was, the freaky anesthetic, or the impromptu c-section-he just couldn't handle it. He was ready, but not okay with being mangled, torn from the person who was supposed to protect him.
People, who were supposed to keep him safe.
Pete reaches out slowly, being offered the body he would have called a son, regardless of the Sheldon situation. He wonders if Violet knows, if she can sense it somehow. Selfishly, he wonders if he'll have to suffer through them telling her too.
On another level he's relieved. Nothing matters anymore.
~-~-~-~-~-~
“Addison?” Noah calls out cautiously, the darkened room holding only one familiar face. He watches her kick out her legs, knees stretching toward the floor, her shoulders helplessly slumped. “You okay?”
Addison rolls her eyes to herself, huffs out a reply, and attempts to stand, falling into a pathetic pile that Noah graciously catches and holds upright. “Sorry,” she murmurs, looking around for a clock, certain a day and a half has elapsed. Her legs tingle, previously unaware that she had been slowly cutting off the circulation to them.
“Don't,” he holds a hand out to stop her. She looks far too beaten down to stand, but all of a sudden she recoils, energy bounding from nowhere, a small smile on her face. “I-”
“You should be with Morgan,” Addison nods, looking at her watch again, feet aching as she stands. “I'll check in on her in the morning. Excuse me.”
She's about to tear through the empty hallway, a flame spreading toward her escape route, when she feels a warm hand on her arm. She can't deny that it feels good. He spins her back, forcing the eye contact she has grown to hate. There's nothing worse than looking there and finding nothing, or in this instance something too consuming to ignore. “Noah-”
“Addison,” he breathes, tracing her jaw lightly. It's been a big day, he's a father, but all he wanted to do was come tell her the great news, as if she didn't know. He always seems to jog toward her, no matter how much they are hurting everyone else around them. The last few months, for him, have been pleasure laced in torture, and he's ready to break the shackles that prevent their happiness. Selfishly though, he wants to kiss her now.
“I need to go,” Addison says weakly, her statement gaining no steam.
“Dr. Montgomery?” A voice squeaks behind her, saving her from whatever crimes they are about to commit. She needs that one day without coveting, without sinning.
“Yes?”
“Dr. Wilder needs...can you come with me please? We need you immediately.”
~-~-~-~-~-~
“Pete?” Addison whispers, stepping into the very space she was booted from hours before. Tenderly, she places a reluctant hand on his shoulder. It's late and she'd love nothing more than her bed, or a bed somewhere, but he's been unexpectedly good to her. She tries to repay favors when possible.
“Pete,” she hisses softly, melancholy stinging filling the vast space around them.
“I'm fine,” Pete tells her, scrubbing a hand over his face, eyes squinting as he turns around and faces the bright hallway behind her. “I'm good actually,” he decides. “I'm going to go...home. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Addison knows he won't be there tomorrow, even if he doesn't yet. She's done this carousel ride before. “Pete,” she demands, drawing nothing from the visibly shaken man in front of her. And despite her career focus, and the sheer volume of deaths she's dealt with over the years, she is no good at this. Not when it's personal, not when it's paramount.
She makes stupid jokes, giggles when she shouldn't be giggling, and through her training she learned that staying silent was better. After a while she mastered the look of sympathy, but none of that is acceptable. Pete deserves more than her well rehearsed speeches, doled out to one grieving parent after another.
“Pete!” she yells, striding forward, shoulders back and determined for the first time all night.
“You should check on Violet,” Pete murmurs, turning back around. “I'm good,” he repeats to her.
“I know,” Addison whispers, wrapping her tired arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. After a few seconds he responds, burying his head in her neck, positive she can feel the moisture that's beginning to gather. “We're all good,” Addison mumbles, gripping him tighter. “We're all okay.”
~-~-~-~-~-~
By Tuesday the domino effect is in full force, the intensity of what had happened, shuffling her personnel until she was the only one left besides the receptionist. However, she was busy. And thankful. After Dell popped into her office after lunch to tell her he had to go pick up his daughter because she was sick, well that was the straw that broke the camel's back. So now she sips at her coffee, crushing the container, wishing she had a punching bag. She can feel the stress in her chest, and there's no sign of adrenaline coming in to save the day.
There's never any relief on the horizon anymore.
No, instead, she's forced to give plain exams, explain why her co-workers are missing, and talk a very disturbed patient of Violet's off the hypothetical ledge of a building. All in a day's work for Addison Montgomery, the one woman practice running machine. And before, when she felt like she was the only one working, the only one generating revenue, she at least had Sam. Sam who has been on a house call for the last six hours without any word or indication as to how it is going.
Addison settles into her office chair with a loud, begrudging, groan. She allows her feet free of their black captors, running them along the rug on the floor. Gently she compartmentalizes the day, assured that tomorrow can be no worse. Then she picks up a pen and begins the task of running through every single thing she's accomplished today.
That in itself feels good.
“Addison?” Noah greets, letting himself into her office. “Quiet in here today.”
“Just me,” Addison grins. And when he tells her that it's good that they are alone a knot begins to form in her throat.
“I want to leave her,” Noah declares. “It's just...he's so perfect Addison. He sleeps and he-”
“I'm well versed in babies,” she reminds him, not caring to hear about how excited another person is to be a proud mommy or daddy. It's never her turn, and she hasn't enough energy to pretend to be interested in a three day old child who can hardly see the world he is encased in.
“Right,” Noah nods. “I love him but... I want to leave her.”
“Shouldn't make promises-”
“It's not a promise Addison,” Noah interrupts. “I'm telling you what's happening. We could be together, I want to be together.”
“You don't know what you're doing,” Addison informs him, but she does, excruciatingly well. It never goes how you plan, how you hope. It's difficult to cut and run, even when it's clear you don't belong.
“I still want us.” Noah grabs her free hand, the one not fiddling with a pen and squeezes lightly. “I love you Addison.”
And she smiles despite herself, because proclamations of love tend to warm her soul, and because it doesn't scare her when it comes out of his mouth. The rest of it, his marriage, his son, that's scary, but them in the simplicity of being together is not frightening. It sounds nothing short of wonderful. “I can't...do this. You can't do this Noah. You have a family now, and that's...it's more important than whatever we were doing.”
His fingers slide up her bare arm, enjoying the jolts of electricity he is positive they both feel. Her skin is impossibly soft, and he thinks he could spend the rest of his life mapping her curves, her scars. “You are important to me,” he reveals genuinely. It's quite inconceivable, he's not this guy.
He was a better man before Addison Montgomery.
He was wavering, but better. Unhappy, but better. And now he can't control himself. His lips edge along hers, nipping, fighting, biting until she responds. He loves the way her hands play with his hair, the way they fall down his chest. This time he is fulfilled with only kissing her, to never have to see the way she was disgusted with herself when they pulled apart before. Personally, he just hated that it had to end. He pushes her up out of her chair, onto the desk, wanting nothing more than a little extra contact as her legs wrap around him.
He doesn't count on her hand grabbing his belt.
~-~-~-~-~-~
In reflection, Noah still slouched over her stomach, Addison feels the need to sprint out of the room. It had to be done, she reckons. They never would have stopped themselves until they got to this point, the fuzzy edges of euphoria still ripping through her chest. She feels feathery kisses along her skin, and is pulled toward the couch seconds later.
He holds her in a manner that makes her wish that he doesn't have to let go at some point. He understands her in a way that she's not sure anyone ever has before, seeing through her facade instantly. Completely naked, exposed, blinds to her office not even drawn, she lies halfway on top of him.
Nothing has ever felt better and coincidentally worse. She's never hated herself more than she does in this moment. “We shouldn't have-”
“Don't...ruin it,” Noah breathes out. “Don't trivialize it like that Addison.” He wants to do that every second of every day for the rest of his life. He could never tire of the way she moves her hips, the way she moans. But it's more than that, it's the connection they share, the comfort.
“You can't have us both.” She wishes she was a stronger person, wishes that maybe in a perfect world they could all be raising that tiny baby boy. She would love nothing more than the opportunity to raise a child, but she's wise enough to know it couldn't possibly work.
People don't forgive in her world. It would constantly float above their heads, ready at the will of any fight. It could never be blameless, and she couldn't fathom doing that to a child.
“I choose you.”
She doesn't bother telling him about the mistake he's just made, he'll figure it out sooner or later.
~-~-~-~-~-~
“Who was at the door?” Sam asks, nursing his beer, feet dangling into the sand.
“I don't want to talk about it,” Addison answers, running a hand through her wind blown hair. Noah has shown up every night for the last week. And she's yet to open the door. Because she doesn't know what that entails. There's chaos blowing outside her house, and if she opened the option for him to come in and sweep her off her feet, she's not sure she could ever close it again.
“Fair enough,” Sam replies, handing her the wine glass she discarded earlier. “Heard from Naomi?”
“Yeah,” Addison nods. “She sounds happy.”
“You know, it's weird. She's right downstairs...but I never see her. Charlotte King on the other hand...”
“True,” Addison smiles. Charlotte was always around. Naomi hasn't dared to step a foot into the haunted place she discarded. She pauses out of habit, Sam taking to the ocean once more. “We're pathetic.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sam kids without looking over at her.
“I...am. Definitely pathetic,” Addison gulps. “He has a family, a son, and I think I have some sort of right to interfere-”
“Am I allowed to speak?” Sam wonders aloud, turning around, feet kicking up a puff of sand as he goes. When she says nothing he takes thinks it safe to continue. “We don't know what's best for people, maybe he needs to walk away from that,” Sam nods, encouraging himself. “Sometimes people have to walk away.”
Secretly she wonders why it is that everyone has to walk away from her, how long it will take her to make Noah dash off in the other direction.
~-~-~-~-~-~
“Noah,” Addison shouts loudly, opening the door on the eighth day. “Please leave me alon- Pete?”
“Violet...” Pete ambles forward, shrugging his jacket off onto her floor, leaving her to scoop up the mess and place it on the hanging pegs. “She won't talk to me. She wants happy, and then she just...shuts me out.”
“Pete,” Addison chides instantly. “She's going through-”
“I'm going through it too!” Pete yells at her suddenly, the magnitude of the last week weighing him down. “She doesn't...she won't involve me, and Cooper-”
“Cooper is her friend, maybe it's easier for her,” Addison excuses. She doesn't know Violet well enough to understand much of anything but Pete is so enraged that she feels little in the way of other options.
“I should be what's easier, it should be me,” Pete mumbles as he falls onto her couch, the doors opened to the rumbling ocean. “It's never going to be me.”
Addison pulls a pillow into her lap, placing her bare feet on the coffee table. “I'm sorry Pete.” She watches him shake his head, trying to rid himself of the despair they've become shrouded in. She'd commiserate with him, offer some of her own sordid tales, but it's not the time for that.
“Addison,” Pete whispers, absorbing her hesitance. They both know it's coming. Inevitable from that day in the stairwell.
Seconds later, the pillow she was clutching has been thrown to the floor, Pete's body crushing her own. Her mouth hungrily seeks out his, frustrated and aching, the throbbing between her legs already enough to make her squirm in delight and anticipation.
She'd stop him, but sex with men who don't truly want her is becoming, if nothing else, a specialty of sorts.
~-~-~-~-~-~