Trouble
There are a lot of world-class surgeons at Seattle Grace, Meredith knows that. She works alongside them every day; Derek in neuro, Burke in cardio, Richard in general... and the occasional visiting hotshot from Johns Hopkins or Mayo. They're undeniably brilliant.
But watching Addison Montgomery work...? It feels entirely different to Meredith for some reason.
There's a calm that settles over the OR when Addison scrubs in. Not the quiet kind. Not silence. No. There is always the rush of machines, the hum of prep, the precise orders being called out. It is a different kind of calm. The kind that comes from watching someone born for what they do.
Meredith stands just outside the OR, eyes staring through the glass as Addison prepares to deliver five babies. Five. Quintuplets.
They're being delivered one by one, each one barely more than a pound, barely more than a flutter of life in Addison's steady hands. The redhead moves like she's done this a thousand times, even though, statistically, Meredith knows she hasn't. No one has.
The first baby is out; a girl.
The team works quickly, a well-oiled machine even though Addison hasn't been here long. She guides every movement like a conductor with a scalpel instead of a baton. She doesn't even look rushed or pressured, even though Meredith knows the pressure is astronomical.
Baby two comes out screaming, her cry is small but mighty, Meredith feels like she can almost see Addison's relieved smile. Baby three doesn't cry, Meredith sees Addison's jaw clench subtly as she calls for the NICU, her hands still impossibly gentle as she works.
Meredith is a surgeon herself, a good one even. She knows how to hold a retractor, how to cut clean, how to keep her cool. Or at least, she thinks she does. But watching Addison delicately maneuver a tiny baby into safety almost feels like watching someone do magic.
Meredith is not easily impressed. But right now? She's in awe.
It seems that Addison tends to bring out that emotion out of Meredith. Everything the woman does is insanely impressive to the blond.
**
Later, Meredith is paged to the NICU for something case-related. She ends up having to page Addison. She's too embarrassed to admit it, but she's kind of looking forward to seeing her again.
Okay, she is definitely looking forward to seeing her again.
The moment Addison walks in, it's like the temperature drops half a degree. Not in a cold way, just in a serious way. The kind that settles over a room when someone important enters it.
Meredith is checking on the babies, she's been assigned to Charlotte and she's the tiniest of the bunch.
Addison is leaning over the incubator, stethoscope in hand, her expression unreadable but her movements precise. Meredith watches as the woman reaches for the baby with those same impossibly steady hands and gently adjusts the monitor's placement. God, her hands.
"She's holding on." Addison says softly, almost to herself. Or perhaps it is just meant for Meredith to hear.
Meredith doesn't speak. She just watches. Meredith always watches Addison. She can't seem to stop.
Then, Addison turns and walks quietly toward the mother who's waiting in a wheelchair. Meredith follows at a distance but stays back once she sees Addison crouch down beside the woman.
Addison's voice is low, calm, devastating but her presence is steady. Meredith doesn't hear her words, but she knows. She knows that whatever Addison is saying, it's bad news. She knows that Addison is putting every ounce of herself into delivering the news with compassion.
She knows because she's watched Addison be that compassion; directed at Meredith herself or at a patient. Over and over again.
And somehow, even when Addison looks strong, composed, polished and put-together, Meredith can see the strain in her shoulders, the weight behind her eyes. Despite the sad situation, Meredith likes that she can read Addison now.
Still, Addison does it. She gives the mother the worst news of her life, and somehow, she makes the woman feel like she's not so alone in it.
Meredith isn't sure she could do that. Even with more years of experience, Meredith doesn't think she could do it.
Not like that. Not like Addison.
**
Hours pass, Meredith is buried in patient reports and lab work (and some thoughts about Addison) when the idea hits her. She remembers reading an article about co-bedding during a sleepless night. And before the idea can fully form in her head, Meredith bolts to the NICU.
She tries it. It works. Baby Charlotte's vitals stabilize almost instantly once her sibling is laid next to her. Their tiny bodies seem to sync as if they've been waiting to be together again.
Moments later, Addison rushes in, out of breath and in attending mode. When she sees the two babies together, her eyes flick up to Meredith.
"You did this?" Addison asks, voice low but sharp with intensity. Fuck, I screwed up, Meredith thinks. Meredith definitely does not want Addison to think she's stupid.
"I... yeah. I thought maybe skin-to-skin contact might make the difference like it's been seen with preemies. So..." God, Meredith wishes she could stop embarrassing herself around Addison.
The redhead doesn't speak right away. She simply stares at Meredith, her expression unreadable at first. But then, something shifts; her eyes soften, and her posture relaxes just a touch. It's subtle, but Meredith sees it.
"That was brilliant, Dr. Grey." Addison says, her voice a bit breathless.
Meredith hears someone huff across the room, and she realizes it's Dr. Bailey. Meredith had been so focused on Addison that she had not noticed the other doctor enter the room.
"Grey has her moments." Bailey says.
"You might have just saved her life. That might just be enough for her to survive." Addison says, barely acknowledging Bailey, instead staring at Meredith across the incubator.
Meredith swallows hard, feeling the weight of what just happened. There is that warmth in her chest again, that warmth that has nothing to do with her accomplishment. That stupid, stubborn warmth that always seems to appear around Addison lately.
"I just didn't want to lose her." Meredith says, quieter than she intended.
"You did good." Addison replies, her tone matching Meredith's. Before Addison leaves the room, she squeezes Meredith's wrist gently much like the blond had done a few days ago. Meredith now understands the look that had passed through Addison's eyes that day.
**
It would seem like Meredith is unable to avoid the neonatal surgeon (not that she's really trying to). Later, when most of the hospital is quiet and fading into a rare moment of stillness, Meredith finds Addison in one of the side corridors, sitting on a stray bed.
Addison is alone. Her hair is a little undone, and her shoulders are slumped. She looks like she hasn't slept in days, which is not unusual for a surgeon, Meredith supposes. But there is something else too, something broken in the curve of her mouth, in the way her arms are crossed like she's trying to hold herself together.
Meredith walks over to Addison in the hopes of offering some comfort because — apparently — it is what they do now. Quiet comfort. No questions. Just presence. She climbs on the bed and settles next to Addison, close enough so that their sides are touching. Meredith hears Addison let out a sigh full of pain and she wishes she could do more to help.
It is weird this urge Meredith has to comfort Addison. It is also weird how she wants to use physical touch as a method of comfort when Meredith has never been one for physical contact. She supposed it was because she never experienced it as a child and got used to the absence of it in her life. But now, now that she's met Addison, Meredith seeks and willingly offers physical touch. It is a scary thing, but Meredith likes it. She wishes this physical touch between them would develop more, that it would develop out of those dire situations. However, Meredith isn't willing to delve into the 'why' right now so it's a good thing that Addison starts talking, even though she hates the defeated sound of her voice.
"I had to do it." Addison says without looking at her. "I had to tell Stevens to sit by the baby tonight. That if the baby made it through the night, we'd be able to operate tomorrow and save her. I had to tell her this even though I know…"
"The baby won't make it through the night." Meredith finishes for her gently, pressing slightly closer to her.
Addison nods. Her eyes are glassy, but she doesn't cry.
"Stevens has great potential but she gets too attached. I had to do it. Richard did the same thing to me when I was an intern. I hated him for it. I almost gave up on being a surgeon." Addison says and Meredith can hear the pain the memory causes, even after all these years.
Meredith doesn't speak. She just leans a little closer to Addison and grabs the hand that's resting in the woman's lap. She links their fingers together. Meredith doesn't think she's ever done that before, not even with Derek. Not this simple, wordless intertwining of fingers. It feels intimate and that terrifies her. Meredith likes it.
"She's going to hate me." Addison says. "Rightfully so. I hate myself a little for doing it. But I had to. I'm her teacher, she needs to learn how to let go, how not to get too attached." Addison says, her voice breaking.
Meredith doesn't know what to say but she knows Addison isn't particularly waiting for any particular answer.
Instead, Meredith just stays there, quiet and present. Hopefully comforting. Like Addison has done for her so many times now.
Addison closes her eyes and rests her head against the wall behind her. Meredith knows the woman is exhausted.
Their fingers are still interwoven, and Meredith wants to move her fingers gently through Addison's. She goes to do that, but Addison must think she's about to pull her hand away because she grabs it tightly and suddenly opens her eyes. There is something there, something vulnerable, like she might fall apart if Meredith lets go of her hand.
Meredith gives her a soft smile because letting go is the last thing she wants to do. Not now. Not with Addison. Maybe not ever.
"I'm not going anywhere." Meredith murmurs as if saying it louder would break something. And because she doesn't need to, her words are only for Addison. The redhead relaxes a little, but Meredith can see she's still tense.
"I'm not going anywhere." Meredith repeats as she runs her fingers from the tip of Addison's fingers to her elbow in a gentle manner.
Addison closes her eyes again and breathes out. Meredith doesn't know how long they stay this way. She just knows that she would stay like this forever if Addison asked.
**
The hospital is a swirling mess of controlled chaos, but Meredith barely registers it. Her focus is entirely on the woman in the hospital bed; a woman who had tried to kill herself by swallowing a bunch of razor blades.
As Meredith is about to discharge her, the woman asks if there is a way to keep her in the hospital a bit longer, she thinks she's gotten better too quickly and doesn't want to go back to jail right away. There isn't, Meredith tells her that. She expects shouting but it doesn't happen.
Instead, there is something about the look in her eyes that unsettles Meredith. It's too calm, too focused. Like someone who's just waiting for the next opportunity to strike. Meredith has a feeling, a bad one. And when Meredith has a feeling, she's often right.
And, as it turns out, Meredith was right to be wary.
She barely has time to react before the woman reaches into her pillowcase, retrieving a hidden razor blade. How did she get her hands on another rather blade, Meredith wonders like it matters right now. She knows what the woman intends to do next, Meredith tries to stop her, instinct kicking in before her thoughts can catch up. She grabs at the woman's arm, trying to twist it away from her mouth, but the patient resists, wild and desperate.
"Stop — don't —" Meredith chokes out, pushing harder, her arms straining from the exertion.
There's a sudden lurch. Meredith stumbles back just as the woman's elbow connects with her temple. Her vision flashes white and then fades into little black dots for a second as her knees hit the floor. There's blood, warm and fast, trickling down from a gash on her forehead. Fuck.
Someone yells. The guards rush in. It's too late though, the woman has already swallowed the razor blade. Nurses and doctors swarm the room.
Meredith just sits there, dazed, her hand pressed against her bleeding forehead. She's a surgeon, she should probably help, but the room is spinning, so she doesn't think it would be very wise.
**
News travels fast at Seattle Grace. Especially when it involves Meredith Grey getting hurt by a convicted murderer apparently.
By the time she's seated in an exam room in the ER, a bandage pressed to her head, and Cristina digging out the suture kit, the gossip has already spread like wildfire.
"I heard she hit you with a scalpel." Cristina mutters.
"It was her elbow, actually." Meredith corrects; her voice detached like she hasn't just been attacked by a convicted murderer.
"Oh. That's boring." Cristina says playfully, seemingly used to Meredith getting into all kinds of troubles.
Meredith doesn't get to reply because the door flies open, not gently, not with the calm professionalism Addison Montgomery usually exudes, but in a desperate way.
"Meredith —" Addison's voice catches in her throat the second she sees the blood on the young intern's forehead.
She's standing in the doorway, frozen. Her chest is rising too quickly, and her eyes — those perfect, composed, ocean-blue eyes — are misting over with unshed tears.
Meredith blinks, unsure for a moment if she's still concussed. Addison Montgomery is panicked. For her.
Cristina, halfway through snapping on gloves, glances up and arches a curious eyebrow.
"She's okay, Dr. Montgomery. Just needs some stitches." Cristina says, her voice kinder than she's ever heard it directed at 'Satan'.
Addison doesn't seem to register the words though. She isn't looking at Cristina, she's only looking at Meredith. She walks towards the blond until they're almost touching, still not sparing Cristina a glance. Meredith is glad Cristina isn't commenting on the weird situation; Addison looks scared enough as it is.
The redhead's hand twitches at her sides, the kind of twitch that says she desperately wants to reach out, wants to touch her, hold her, do something, anything. But she doesn't. She's hesitant. Meredith understands but she doesn't like it one bit.
So, Meredith ignores the amused look Cristina is giving her and reaches out instead, her fingers gently encircling Addison's wrist.
"I'm okay." Meredith says quietly, just for her because Cristina already knows she's okay.
It breaks something in Addison. She lets out a shaky breath and moves closer. Cristina watches the whole exchange with a look that says she just figured out what Meredith has been trying to ignore and that she is filing this away for later.
"You want to do the stitches?" Cristina asks casually, removing her gloves and winking at Meredith seemingly saying, 'You can thank me later'. Addison doesn't catch the look because she's still intensely staring at Meredith.
It seems she heard the question though because she nods immediately, "Yes. Of course." She says, her voice thick.
"Cool. I'll go… not be here. Not that anyone cares." Cristina says with a smirk as she finishes peeling off her gloves and drops them into the bin. On her way out, she pauses just long enough to shoot Meredith a knowing wink. The little shit.
The door clicks closed behind her.
Addison takes a breath and steps closer, gloved hands reaching up with practiced delicacy. She cups Meredith's face in one palm, titling her head gently to assess the wound. Her touch is warm and steady, she can feel it even through her gloves. Meredith can see her jaw is clenched tightly, like she's holding everything else back. And that just won't do.
Meredith isn't sure how she gets the courage to do what she does next, maybe it's the concussion, maybe it's the near-death experience, or maybe it's just seeing Addison so distressed, she isn't sure. But she tilts her head slightly to the side and lets her lips brush against Addison's inner wrist as the woman is still cupping her head gently.
At that, Addison closes her eyes, her jaw relaxes almost imperceptibly, and she breathes out deeply.
"You scared me." Addison whispers, her voice low and strained. "When I heard… I thought —"
"I know." Meredith cuts in softly, taking the opportunity to lay another barely there kiss on Addison's wrist.
There's a long beat of silence as Addison begins to clean the blood around the cut with hands so gentle it makes Meredith want to cry.
"I'm supposed to be the calm one." Addison mumbles to herself after a moment. "I'm supposed to be composed and professional and… I'm not supposed to rush into the ERs like a lunatic."
"I liked it." Meredith admits, surprising even herself. "The rushing in part." Apparently, almost dying makes one bold.
Addison's eyes flick to hers. There's something open in them now, raw, worried tender.
"I just needed to see you." She says simply. "To make sure you were okay."
Meredith swallows hard, suddenly very aware of how close they are, of how Addison is touching her face with such care, like she is something precious. It makes her feel seen in a way that's disarming, in a way she had barely ever felt before.
In a way that's terrifying.
But also, in a way that's kind of perfect.
"I'm okay." Meredith says again, barely above a whisper.
Addison doesn't respond, she just keeps working, her movements gentle, her expression full of quiet but strong emotions. Meredith feels her breath against her cheek, feels the press of fingers against her skin. It grounds her in a way nothing else has all day.
Somewhere between stitches three and four, Meredith closes her eyes, not because it hurts, but because she feels safe.
Addison's thumb brushes just barely along her jaw once she's done. Then, she feels the redhead's lips brush over her temple. It's so quick Meredith almost thinks she's imagined it.
It makes Meredith want to reach out, wrap her arms around Addison's waist, and bury her face in the woman's neck. She doesn't. Meredith doesn't think either of them is ready for this kind of closeness yet. But boy does she want to. And when she looks into Addison's gentle eyes, she thinks the woman wants the exact same thing.
Instead, since Addison is standing and Meredith is sitting, the blond takes the opportunity to rest her forehead gently against Addison's exposed collarbone. It only takes the redhead a second to bring her right hand against the back of Meredith's head and play with the small hair there. Then, Addison rests her chin at the top of Meredith's head. The blond feels like she's wrapped in a warm weighted blanket. She loses track of time and isn't sure how long they stay like this. It’s perfect.
Meredith takes in the woman's perfume, the warmth of her skin, and the way she makes Meredith feel safe like no one ever has before.
God, I'm in trouble, she thinks.