What Do You Hear in These Sounds? part 6
Author: Carsonfiles
Timeline: Follows canon roughly around Time After Time (3:20) through end of Season 3. Then A/U (or I'll be really freaked out next fall) Current chapter roughly around Time After Time
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but if Shonda doesn't quit bending them in ways they weren't meant to bend, I might have to confiscate them.
Summary: It's not just the interns who need therapy. Addison's turn on the couch.
Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes
She’s a rich girl, don’t try to hide it.
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
Jack watched as the two women approached their makeshift office. They weren’t quite comfortable with each other, but there was something between the two of them that he couldn’t quite identify. As his wife ushered the younger of the pair into her office, he extended his right hand to the redhead. “Jack Burson.”
“Hello. I’m Addison Montgomery.” A million dollar name to go with a million dollar style. Even if I didn’t already know, she screams Manhattan without saying a word.
By the time they were settled in Jack’s office, Jack had realized that this woman wasn’t quite as strong as she pretended to be. There were depths here, mysteries. She had a desire to be seen as inpenetrable, but so clearly was not. He had only seen the top page of her notes, but knew that she had only worked at Seattle Grace for under a year. Before that, she had been in Manhattan. And Jack knew more about this patient than was written on the paper, because another patient of his had also made a move from Manhattan to Seattle.
He's a poor boy
Empty as a pocket
Empty as a pocket with nothing to lose
Addison sat on the front third of her chair and made immediate eye contact with the therapist. “Dr. Burson.” She said his name like a statement.
“Jack.”
“All right, Jack. Before this goes further, I want to know if you are capable of doing this. Of seeing me.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I. . .oh, because of Mark?” He got it.
“Mark. I assume he’s talked about me?” As soon as she said it, she realized her mistake. “Never mind.”
“I have had conversations with another patient of mine, who may or may not have the first name of Mark.” So much for maintaining confidentiality, Burson. Sloppy, sloppy work. “And that other patient, let’s call him Mike, shall we? Mike has mentioned a Dr. Montgomery, with the first name of Addison. But let me explain-Mike only knows one facet of his friend. And he actually knows that his friend is pretty complicated.”
Addison exhaled in a giant woosh. “So you think you can listen to me, and not just hear what fits with what Mar-I mean Mike says? Shouldn’t I just schedule with your wife?”
“Addison, between my wife and me, we’re seeing half the staff of this hospital. You think she’s not going to see anyone who has a complicated and conflicted view of you?”
Sing Ta na na
Ta na na na
She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes,
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
“Did you see who just walked in there, Jack? That was Meredith Grey. That was my husband’s. . .my ex-husband’s slutty intern.” Addison listened to how those words sounded, as they hung in the air. “That was rude. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. But you could tell me. Why are you so angry at Meredith? And why apologize for it?”
And finally, Addison relaxed into her chair. “I’m not. That’s the strangest thing. We aren’t friends, and it’s most likely we never will be. But I actuallly like the child. And-amazingly enough, I think she’s good for Derek. Who, since you are going to pretend not to know, is my ex-husband. And Mike or Mark’s best friend. Whichever. But Meredith. . .she’s no more to blame in this than anyone else. And less to blame than I am.”
"Tell me."
And so, she did.
Flashback: Fall. JFK Airport. Queens, New York City
People say she's crazy
She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Well that's one way to lose these walking blues-
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Addison’s feet were killing her. Any shoe crafted by Manolo Blahnik ran a half-size small, any idiot knew that. So why had she let the sales twit talk her into the size eights? She was Addison Forbes Montgomery Shepherd, she wasn’t someone who was out-snootied by sales people! But Addison had been distracted that afternoon. She had been desperate not to have to go back to the brownstone-she hadn’t been back there since the morning after That Night. And she wouldn’t be back there again, not unless she went with Derek.
Derek.
She finally knew where her husband was. Not that he’d called her, oh no. That would have been too up-front, too straightforward for the couple that was known as AddisonandDerek, DerekandAddison. She’d heard it from Richard Webber, the doctor for whom she and Derek had worked in their residencies. He was in Seattle, of all god-forsaken places. Seattle, Washington. Not that she knew of any other Seattles. She couldn’t figure out what Richard could be doing in the back of beyond, much less the neurosurgeon to whom she was married. Wasn’t there a volcano there? She tried to picture a map of the state, but couldn’t conjure up anything that would tell her how far Seattle was from Mt. St. Helens. Wait-was that Washington or Oregon? And where was Mt. Rushmore?
And who cared about any place that far west of the Hudson?
Not Addison Forbes Montgomery Shepherd, of the Connecticut Montgomerys and the Boston Forbes. Seattle was not on her list of must-see places. If she were forced to go to the west coast, she would go to Los Angeles. Perhaps San Francisco. But Seattle? The name of the city conjured up images of. . well, nothing. She had nothing to relate to that city. But now she was walking in her brand new, too small shoes through the airport, on the way to Delta flight 107 to claim some property she had been foolish enough to let slip away. When Richard called yesterday, he’d told her of a TTTS case-a woman was in danger of losing both twins-and he’d told her that Derek was there. Timing is everything. She had gotten his message within hours of discovering Mark was no more faithful to her than he had ever been to anyone else. She was just one of a harem of courtesans traipsing through his bedroom. And shower. And kitchen. And-never mind where. Now she was here, walking through an endless terminal in her too-small $500 shoes.
At least it was a non-stop flight. She always hesitated to fly Delta, because it seemed that no matter where she was going, they had her layover in Atlanta. Horrible airport. She’d never seen anything else of the city. Didn’t care to. She figured that if she were on her way to hell (and who was to say she wasn’t?), if she took Delta, she’d have a layover in Atlanta. Or maybe not; maybe that would be the final destination.
In Seattle, six hours later, she was amazed at how cozy an airport could be. She almost expected to see a grandmother serving cocoa to travelers at baggage claim. (Quite honestly, now that she was here, she realized that she could use a good dose of the juju which she and her husband used to ward off bad surgical karma. Let’s face it, she would carry a rabbit’s foot and a horseshoe if she thought it would help.)
She was physically forgotten
Then she slipped into my pocket with my car keys
She said, “You've taken me for granted
Because I please you, wearing these diamonds.”
Even thought the airport was small, of course she waited just as long for her bags as she would at Kennedy or Logan. Long enough for her to try to reach Derek again, and long enough to check her voice mail. There was a missed call from a Seattle area code, and who knew but the man could have decided that he wouldn’t throw his life away over her one mistake and actually decided to be civil. Odder things had happened.
“Addison, this is Richard. I wanted to let you know before you walked into the hospital that the situation may be a bit. . .I know I told you I thought Derek missed you. And I think he does. But he is also seeing someone. I didn’t think it was fair to you to let you come to Seattle Grace without knowing that. I know you asked me not to tell him you were on your way, and I haven’t. But you should. Oh, and Derek performed surgery on me today, removed a small tumor. I’m fine. But come by and say hello when you get in, I’d love to catch up. I’m in room E19.”
Scratch the juju. Scratch the rabbit’s foot, scratch the horseshoe. This was a game, a battle that Addison knew well. She’d played it well all through medical school and the first year of their residency. She had played this game, and played it well, going up against prettier girls, sexier girls. Let’s face it, even nicer girls. But Derek hadn’t gone for nice. He’d gone for smart, sharp-tongued and witty. She had played that game and won it, and the prize was the life represented by the wedding set on her left hand. They were the Shepherds, the Couple Most Likely to Slice You Open and Perhaps Leave You Bleeding. The envy of their friends for how well they worked together. But gradually, their sharp banter had been honed further into razor slices that didn’t make a pretense of humor, just pain. And even the sharpest tongue can erode to dull and quiet. That’s where they had been, until That Night, until on her turn she threw the dice and not only did she come up craps, she busted. Lost it all in one stupid stupid move.
But now she had a strategy. She hadn’t come all the way across the country just for a TTTS surgery. She would woo him with her aggression, tantalize him with feline grace. Grow maudlin over a couple of glasses of scotch. Bring up some of the favorite memories of better times. And then one thing would lead to another, and they would fall into bed, and he would realize that he couldn’t live without her. A delicate strategy, with a hard shell. She queued for a taxi, and told the driver to take her to the nicest hotel in the city. Battle stations, gentlemen. Or gentlewomen. Because someone else was about to be caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
And I could say Oo oo oo
As if everybody knows
What I'm talking about
As if everybody would know
Exactly what I was talking about
Talking about diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
She checked into a room-just for the night, you understand. She expected to be installed back in Derek’s house by the next evening. Lunchtime, even. She wondered what his bachelor pad looked like, if he had decorated it in the same style as the med school apartment he shared with Mark. Rock and roll posters on the wall, bookshelves created from bricks and wood planks, futons and tables assembled on the living room floor, using the included hex screws and following directions that weren’t so much written but drawn.
She makes the sign of a teaspoon
He makes the sign of a wave
The poor boy changes clothes
And puts on after-shave
To compensate for his ordinary shoes
In her room, she dressed for success from the inside out. Expensive lotions and powders, lingerie with lace tatted by a woman in a small town in France and designed by Lisa Charmel, and the damned Manolo shoes. Expensive clothing and a coat that anyone with half an eye on the Parisian runways would be able to place as couture. In front of the mirror, she noted that as Derek took each of the layers off, he would find a softer one beneath. Her lips were scarlet; her hair reminescent of the 1940s career gal. Everything about her screamed confidence and success. Well done. He would have to get at least three layers in before he would see how shattered she was, and by that time he would be too far gone to notice. So. Onward. Tally Ho.
She would stop by the hospital and visit with the chief. If the tide had turned and things were going her way (and it seemed to have turned, because the chief had called her, had invited her and given her the heads up on the other woman so things could be going her way) she would accidentally bump into Derek. Odds were that he would be hovering near Richard’s room, one eye on the patient, the other on his career. So she would bump into Derek, remind him that they were AddisonandDerek, DerekandAddison, and then they could leave this godforsaken city, state, coast and return to the life-in-stasis that was waiting for them. The life that had been frozen waiting for them since the night she and Mark. . .since That Night.
And she said honey take me dancing
But they ended up by sleeping in a doorway
By the bodegas and the lights on Upper Broadway
Wearing diamonds on the soles of their shoes
And the fates, or whichever forces were in charge of chance meetings, of husbands coming home from work unexpectedly (or mistresses, for that matter, because the same thing had happened yesterday) were on her side, for once. For she was not ten steps into the lobby of the hospital before she realized what was going on to her right.
Good Lord, Derek, what on earth are you thinking? For her husband-the man who dressed as well, if not better, than she did, who could tell a $3000 suit from a $5000 suit at a glance-looked like Paul Bunyan. Or the Bounty towel guy. Or. . .Addison couldn’t even think of another rough neck lumberman. But why should she rack her brain, when she had her husband in front of her looking like an off-Broadway imitation? He was adjusting the collar of-My God, Derek, is she legal?
And I could say Oo oo oo
As if everybody here would know
What I was talking about
I mean everybody here would know exactly
What I was talking about
Talking about diamonds
And then she mentally shielded herself to withstand almost anything that Derek and the child could send her way, and walked over to her husband to meet his mistress. Eyebrows up, Addison, keep your eyebrows up and remember: the best defense is a good offense.
End Flashback
People say I'm crazy
I got diamonds on the soles of my shoes
Well that's one way to lose
These walking blues
Diamonds on the soles of your shoes
By the time Addison had finished recounting her trip to Seattle, her time was over. She was exhausted in a way that didn’t usually happen with fewer than ten hours in surgery. Plus, she felt as if her emotions had been put through the wringer.
She looked up at Jack, and said quietly, “We’re divorced now, of course. It didn’t happen immediately, but we were over long before I wanted to admit it. Probably not the moment he walked in on me and. . .Mark. And maybe not the moment he met Meredith. But not long after. Sometime along the way, before I got here, DerekandAddison. . .AddisonandDerek were done. Now I’m figuring out how to be Addison. Addison and herself.”
Jack nodded. “How’s that working for you?”
“Can I let you know?” Addison laughed. “I am still in the fairly clueless stage. I may be stuck here a while, until I get a clue.”
Jack nodded, again. “Talk to Margaret, set up another appointment. And maybe I can help you put your clues together when you find them.”
He walked her to the door and opened it for her. She walked to Margaret’s desk. As the two were talking, finding a good time for her next session, Susan’s office door opened as well. Jack saw his wife laughing with Meredith, telling her to make another appointment. Well, this is awkward. He saw Addison smile at Meredith, and Meredith stop, keep her distance from Addison, and yet return the smile. But maybe it’s only awkward for a little while. . .and not nearly as awkward as I think.
Sing ta na na,
Ta na na
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
Extended A/N: This chapter was really hard for me to write. There are some great Addison fics here, some people who have her nailed in a way that I only wish I could. As much as I love the Mer/Der of it all, I probably have more in common with Addison than I would like. (Meredith's insecurities are adorable, aren't they? At least when God (or the writer's room) isn't defecating on her head. But Addison at least appears grown up, so when she's insecure, it seems. . .pathetic isn't the right word, but it's close. I mean that in the nicest possible way, though.)
The most fun about this chapter was the research I had to do. I mean, I could have faked it, but it was great to find out that the shoes really do run a half-size too small. And to google "expensive lingerie" and create a wish list. ($500 for a babydoll teddy? Call it a dream list.) And to research flights from NYC to Sea-Tac and get the flight number. The research that wasn't quite as fun? Watching the "you must be the woman who. . ." scene another half dozen times, as well as the premier of season 2. Yeah, Richard's room number is right. And I borrowed some other dialogue from that first Derek/Addison scene, gave it a slight tweak and presented it to you as her stream of consciousness. Because, if she said it, it must have been going through her mind earlier, right? But I couldn't bring myself to mention Russell Crowe.
Previous Chapters
1-- I don't go to therapy to find out if I'm a freak
2-- I go and I find the one and only answer every week
3-- And it's just me and all the memories to follow
4-- Down any course that fits within a fifty-minute hour
5-- And we fathom all the mysteries, explicit and inherent
Timeline: Follows canon roughly around Time After Time (3:20) through end of Season 3. Then A/U (or I'll be really freaked out next fall) Current chapter roughly around Time After Time
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but if Shonda doesn't quit bending them in ways they weren't meant to bend, I might have to confiscate them.
Summary: It's not just the interns who need therapy. Addison's turn on the couch.
Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes
She’s a rich girl, don’t try to hide it.
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
Jack watched as the two women approached their makeshift office. They weren’t quite comfortable with each other, but there was something between the two of them that he couldn’t quite identify. As his wife ushered the younger of the pair into her office, he extended his right hand to the redhead. “Jack Burson.”
“Hello. I’m Addison Montgomery.” A million dollar name to go with a million dollar style. Even if I didn’t already know, she screams Manhattan without saying a word.
By the time they were settled in Jack’s office, Jack had realized that this woman wasn’t quite as strong as she pretended to be. There were depths here, mysteries. She had a desire to be seen as inpenetrable, but so clearly was not. He had only seen the top page of her notes, but knew that she had only worked at Seattle Grace for under a year. Before that, she had been in Manhattan. And Jack knew more about this patient than was written on the paper, because another patient of his had also made a move from Manhattan to Seattle.
He's a poor boy
Empty as a pocket
Empty as a pocket with nothing to lose
Addison sat on the front third of her chair and made immediate eye contact with the therapist. “Dr. Burson.” She said his name like a statement.
“Jack.”
“All right, Jack. Before this goes further, I want to know if you are capable of doing this. Of seeing me.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I. . .oh, because of Mark?” He got it.
“Mark. I assume he’s talked about me?” As soon as she said it, she realized her mistake. “Never mind.”
“I have had conversations with another patient of mine, who may or may not have the first name of Mark.” So much for maintaining confidentiality, Burson. Sloppy, sloppy work. “And that other patient, let’s call him Mike, shall we? Mike has mentioned a Dr. Montgomery, with the first name of Addison. But let me explain-Mike only knows one facet of his friend. And he actually knows that his friend is pretty complicated.”
Addison exhaled in a giant woosh. “So you think you can listen to me, and not just hear what fits with what Mar-I mean Mike says? Shouldn’t I just schedule with your wife?”
“Addison, between my wife and me, we’re seeing half the staff of this hospital. You think she’s not going to see anyone who has a complicated and conflicted view of you?”
Sing Ta na na
Ta na na na
She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes,
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
“Did you see who just walked in there, Jack? That was Meredith Grey. That was my husband’s. . .my ex-husband’s slutty intern.” Addison listened to how those words sounded, as they hung in the air. “That was rude. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. But you could tell me. Why are you so angry at Meredith? And why apologize for it?”
And finally, Addison relaxed into her chair. “I’m not. That’s the strangest thing. We aren’t friends, and it’s most likely we never will be. But I actuallly like the child. And-amazingly enough, I think she’s good for Derek. Who, since you are going to pretend not to know, is my ex-husband. And Mike or Mark’s best friend. Whichever. But Meredith. . .she’s no more to blame in this than anyone else. And less to blame than I am.”
"Tell me."
And so, she did.
Flashback: Fall. JFK Airport. Queens, New York City
People say she's crazy
She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Well that's one way to lose these walking blues-
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Addison’s feet were killing her. Any shoe crafted by Manolo Blahnik ran a half-size small, any idiot knew that. So why had she let the sales twit talk her into the size eights? She was Addison Forbes Montgomery Shepherd, she wasn’t someone who was out-snootied by sales people! But Addison had been distracted that afternoon. She had been desperate not to have to go back to the brownstone-she hadn’t been back there since the morning after That Night. And she wouldn’t be back there again, not unless she went with Derek.
Derek.
She finally knew where her husband was. Not that he’d called her, oh no. That would have been too up-front, too straightforward for the couple that was known as AddisonandDerek, DerekandAddison. She’d heard it from Richard Webber, the doctor for whom she and Derek had worked in their residencies. He was in Seattle, of all god-forsaken places. Seattle, Washington. Not that she knew of any other Seattles. She couldn’t figure out what Richard could be doing in the back of beyond, much less the neurosurgeon to whom she was married. Wasn’t there a volcano there? She tried to picture a map of the state, but couldn’t conjure up anything that would tell her how far Seattle was from Mt. St. Helens. Wait-was that Washington or Oregon? And where was Mt. Rushmore?
And who cared about any place that far west of the Hudson?
Not Addison Forbes Montgomery Shepherd, of the Connecticut Montgomerys and the Boston Forbes. Seattle was not on her list of must-see places. If she were forced to go to the west coast, she would go to Los Angeles. Perhaps San Francisco. But Seattle? The name of the city conjured up images of. . well, nothing. She had nothing to relate to that city. But now she was walking in her brand new, too small shoes through the airport, on the way to Delta flight 107 to claim some property she had been foolish enough to let slip away. When Richard called yesterday, he’d told her of a TTTS case-a woman was in danger of losing both twins-and he’d told her that Derek was there. Timing is everything. She had gotten his message within hours of discovering Mark was no more faithful to her than he had ever been to anyone else. She was just one of a harem of courtesans traipsing through his bedroom. And shower. And kitchen. And-never mind where. Now she was here, walking through an endless terminal in her too-small $500 shoes.
At least it was a non-stop flight. She always hesitated to fly Delta, because it seemed that no matter where she was going, they had her layover in Atlanta. Horrible airport. She’d never seen anything else of the city. Didn’t care to. She figured that if she were on her way to hell (and who was to say she wasn’t?), if she took Delta, she’d have a layover in Atlanta. Or maybe not; maybe that would be the final destination.
In Seattle, six hours later, she was amazed at how cozy an airport could be. She almost expected to see a grandmother serving cocoa to travelers at baggage claim. (Quite honestly, now that she was here, she realized that she could use a good dose of the juju which she and her husband used to ward off bad surgical karma. Let’s face it, she would carry a rabbit’s foot and a horseshoe if she thought it would help.)
She was physically forgotten
Then she slipped into my pocket with my car keys
She said, “You've taken me for granted
Because I please you, wearing these diamonds.”
Even thought the airport was small, of course she waited just as long for her bags as she would at Kennedy or Logan. Long enough for her to try to reach Derek again, and long enough to check her voice mail. There was a missed call from a Seattle area code, and who knew but the man could have decided that he wouldn’t throw his life away over her one mistake and actually decided to be civil. Odder things had happened.
“Addison, this is Richard. I wanted to let you know before you walked into the hospital that the situation may be a bit. . .I know I told you I thought Derek missed you. And I think he does. But he is also seeing someone. I didn’t think it was fair to you to let you come to Seattle Grace without knowing that. I know you asked me not to tell him you were on your way, and I haven’t. But you should. Oh, and Derek performed surgery on me today, removed a small tumor. I’m fine. But come by and say hello when you get in, I’d love to catch up. I’m in room E19.”
Scratch the juju. Scratch the rabbit’s foot, scratch the horseshoe. This was a game, a battle that Addison knew well. She’d played it well all through medical school and the first year of their residency. She had played this game, and played it well, going up against prettier girls, sexier girls. Let’s face it, even nicer girls. But Derek hadn’t gone for nice. He’d gone for smart, sharp-tongued and witty. She had played that game and won it, and the prize was the life represented by the wedding set on her left hand. They were the Shepherds, the Couple Most Likely to Slice You Open and Perhaps Leave You Bleeding. The envy of their friends for how well they worked together. But gradually, their sharp banter had been honed further into razor slices that didn’t make a pretense of humor, just pain. And even the sharpest tongue can erode to dull and quiet. That’s where they had been, until That Night, until on her turn she threw the dice and not only did she come up craps, she busted. Lost it all in one stupid stupid move.
But now she had a strategy. She hadn’t come all the way across the country just for a TTTS surgery. She would woo him with her aggression, tantalize him with feline grace. Grow maudlin over a couple of glasses of scotch. Bring up some of the favorite memories of better times. And then one thing would lead to another, and they would fall into bed, and he would realize that he couldn’t live without her. A delicate strategy, with a hard shell. She queued for a taxi, and told the driver to take her to the nicest hotel in the city. Battle stations, gentlemen. Or gentlewomen. Because someone else was about to be caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
And I could say Oo oo oo
As if everybody knows
What I'm talking about
As if everybody would know
Exactly what I was talking about
Talking about diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
She checked into a room-just for the night, you understand. She expected to be installed back in Derek’s house by the next evening. Lunchtime, even. She wondered what his bachelor pad looked like, if he had decorated it in the same style as the med school apartment he shared with Mark. Rock and roll posters on the wall, bookshelves created from bricks and wood planks, futons and tables assembled on the living room floor, using the included hex screws and following directions that weren’t so much written but drawn.
She makes the sign of a teaspoon
He makes the sign of a wave
The poor boy changes clothes
And puts on after-shave
To compensate for his ordinary shoes
In her room, she dressed for success from the inside out. Expensive lotions and powders, lingerie with lace tatted by a woman in a small town in France and designed by Lisa Charmel, and the damned Manolo shoes. Expensive clothing and a coat that anyone with half an eye on the Parisian runways would be able to place as couture. In front of the mirror, she noted that as Derek took each of the layers off, he would find a softer one beneath. Her lips were scarlet; her hair reminescent of the 1940s career gal. Everything about her screamed confidence and success. Well done. He would have to get at least three layers in before he would see how shattered she was, and by that time he would be too far gone to notice. So. Onward. Tally Ho.
She would stop by the hospital and visit with the chief. If the tide had turned and things were going her way (and it seemed to have turned, because the chief had called her, had invited her and given her the heads up on the other woman so things could be going her way) she would accidentally bump into Derek. Odds were that he would be hovering near Richard’s room, one eye on the patient, the other on his career. So she would bump into Derek, remind him that they were AddisonandDerek, DerekandAddison, and then they could leave this godforsaken city, state, coast and return to the life-in-stasis that was waiting for them. The life that had been frozen waiting for them since the night she and Mark. . .since That Night.
And she said honey take me dancing
But they ended up by sleeping in a doorway
By the bodegas and the lights on Upper Broadway
Wearing diamonds on the soles of their shoes
And the fates, or whichever forces were in charge of chance meetings, of husbands coming home from work unexpectedly (or mistresses, for that matter, because the same thing had happened yesterday) were on her side, for once. For she was not ten steps into the lobby of the hospital before she realized what was going on to her right.
Good Lord, Derek, what on earth are you thinking? For her husband-the man who dressed as well, if not better, than she did, who could tell a $3000 suit from a $5000 suit at a glance-looked like Paul Bunyan. Or the Bounty towel guy. Or. . .Addison couldn’t even think of another rough neck lumberman. But why should she rack her brain, when she had her husband in front of her looking like an off-Broadway imitation? He was adjusting the collar of-My God, Derek, is she legal?
And I could say Oo oo oo
As if everybody here would know
What I was talking about
I mean everybody here would know exactly
What I was talking about
Talking about diamonds
And then she mentally shielded herself to withstand almost anything that Derek and the child could send her way, and walked over to her husband to meet his mistress. Eyebrows up, Addison, keep your eyebrows up and remember: the best defense is a good offense.
End Flashback
People say I'm crazy
I got diamonds on the soles of my shoes
Well that's one way to lose
These walking blues
Diamonds on the soles of your shoes
By the time Addison had finished recounting her trip to Seattle, her time was over. She was exhausted in a way that didn’t usually happen with fewer than ten hours in surgery. Plus, she felt as if her emotions had been put through the wringer.
She looked up at Jack, and said quietly, “We’re divorced now, of course. It didn’t happen immediately, but we were over long before I wanted to admit it. Probably not the moment he walked in on me and. . .Mark. And maybe not the moment he met Meredith. But not long after. Sometime along the way, before I got here, DerekandAddison. . .AddisonandDerek were done. Now I’m figuring out how to be Addison. Addison and herself.”
Jack nodded. “How’s that working for you?”
“Can I let you know?” Addison laughed. “I am still in the fairly clueless stage. I may be stuck here a while, until I get a clue.”
Jack nodded, again. “Talk to Margaret, set up another appointment. And maybe I can help you put your clues together when you find them.”
He walked her to the door and opened it for her. She walked to Margaret’s desk. As the two were talking, finding a good time for her next session, Susan’s office door opened as well. Jack saw his wife laughing with Meredith, telling her to make another appointment. Well, this is awkward. He saw Addison smile at Meredith, and Meredith stop, keep her distance from Addison, and yet return the smile. But maybe it’s only awkward for a little while. . .and not nearly as awkward as I think.
Sing ta na na,
Ta na na
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
Extended A/N: This chapter was really hard for me to write. There are some great Addison fics here, some people who have her nailed in a way that I only wish I could. As much as I love the Mer/Der of it all, I probably have more in common with Addison than I would like. (Meredith's insecurities are adorable, aren't they? At least when God (or the writer's room) isn't defecating on her head. But Addison at least appears grown up, so when she's insecure, it seems. . .pathetic isn't the right word, but it's close. I mean that in the nicest possible way, though.)
The most fun about this chapter was the research I had to do. I mean, I could have faked it, but it was great to find out that the shoes really do run a half-size too small. And to google "expensive lingerie" and create a wish list. ($500 for a babydoll teddy? Call it a dream list.) And to research flights from NYC to Sea-Tac and get the flight number. The research that wasn't quite as fun? Watching the "you must be the woman who. . ." scene another half dozen times, as well as the premier of season 2. Yeah, Richard's room number is right. And I borrowed some other dialogue from that first Derek/Addison scene, gave it a slight tweak and presented it to you as her stream of consciousness. Because, if she said it, it must have been going through her mind earlier, right? But I couldn't bring myself to mention Russell Crowe.
Previous Chapters
1-- I don't go to therapy to find out if I'm a freak
2-- I go and I find the one and only answer every week
3-- And it's just me and all the memories to follow
4-- Down any course that fits within a fifty-minute hour
5-- And we fathom all the mysteries, explicit and inherent