Chapter Text
Meredith felt her before she saw her.
Derek helped her into her coat, chattering about having a dinner date, but Meredith’s attention had been pulled elsewhere–forced, really.
A woman had just entered the hospital lobby. Red hair curled around her head like an inferno, each click of her heels in time with Meredith’s heartbeat. Her black clothing felt like mourning, as though something was ending–something Meredith didn’t quite understand.
Derek noticed her distraction, turned–and paled.
“Meredith… I’m so sorry.”
That snapped her back to the present, and she stared, confused. He said something else–but she didn’t catch it, words muffled as if underwater–and the woman was in front of them, extending a perfectly manicured hand.
“Hi,” the woman said, voice smooth and sure.
Meredith grasped the offered hand on autopilot, feeling a jolt run through her at the contact. Based on the slight widening of the other woman’s eyes, she’d felt it too.
“I’m Addison Shepherd.”
The jolt turned painful, burning Meredith from the inside out, grip tightening reflexively, desperate to hold onto the redhead as if she was a liferaft.
“S-Shepherd?” Meredith stuttered, brain short-circuiting.
The redhead dropped Meredith’s hand, smirking wickedly–a sharp curve that didn’t reach her eyes. “And you must be the woman who’s been screwing my husband.”
The world tilted on its axis. Ice water poured down Meredith’s spine as her vision narrowed, brain struggling to compute. Her body moved, doing what she always did when she couldn’t breathe–she ran.
Hours later, Meredith slumped onto her bed, barely managing to set an alarm before she succumbed to sleep. She’d hoped the alcohol would banish the woman–Addison Shepherd–from her mind, but it seemed to have simply heightened the memory.
Meredith blinked–and she was standing in the hospital lobby, space quiet and empty, devoid of the usual traffic.
Addison stood in front of her, red hair impossibly vivid in the hospital lights.
Meredith stared–and cackled loudly, sound echoing sharply in the cavernous space. “Of course. It’s a funeral for my relationship,” she grinned wildly, eyes blazing. “Black for mourning.”
The redhead stood there, sharp expression softening slightly, confusion and concern flitting across her eyes. She stepped forward cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. “Are you… okay?”
Meredith wheezed, choking on half-suppressed sobs, diaphragm spasming. “I’m pathetic. Of everyone I know, my brain’s conjured you to cheer me up, huh? My boyfriend–no, ex-boyfriend’s–leggy, fabulous wife. How fucked up is that?”
The heels clicked to a halt in front of her, and Meredith could smell Addison’s perfume–vanilla and jasmine.
“He didn’t tell you,” Addison murmured quietly. It wasn’t a question.
Meredith swiped at her eyes with her sleeve, accepting the offered hand and standing. The contact was just as jarring as before–something hot and electric sparking at the touch. Her breath hitched as she simply stared into the redhead’s eyes. The sensation grounded her, and Meredith stood, posture straightening. “No. Didn’t have a ring, either.”
The words landed like a physical blow. Something flickered across Addison’s face–hurt, maybe, or recognition. Around them, the hospital was dead silent, a ghost town–a graveyard of memory.
“Just my shitty luck, I guess,” Meredith said finally. “I find someone good–and they’re married, or they cheat, or they don’t want anything serious.”
She laughed, bitter and harsh. “Fanculo la mia vita.”
She stared into Addison’s eyes, and the world steadied for a heartbeat–before a noise blared, and the scene fractured like a shattered mirror, pieces bleeding to black.
Meredith woke with a start, heart pounding, alarm ringing in her ears. She stared at the ceiling, reorienting herself, grasping at the gossamer threads of her dream as they slipped away like water through her fingertips.
Addison Shepherd. She’d seen Addison Shepherd, they’d…
What had happened? What had they done?
The fragments dissolved faster the harder she reached, until all that was left was fire-red hair and the clicking of high heels.
Meredith groaned, slapping her alarm, burying her face in the pillows. “Great,” she muttered into the fabric. “My subconscious has decided to torture me.”
Before she emerged from her blankets, she comforted herself with one last thought: at least she won’t be at the hospital.
Across town, Addison woke gasping, sheets tangled around her legs, skin clammy. Her dream–too vivid, too real–burned through her memory in a way her dreams never had before.
She pushed herself upright, detangling her legs from the bed, breathing slowly until her rhythm steadied.
The shower helped, routine practiced and familiar–lather, rinse, condition… Each motion restored a modicum of control, donning another piece of armor.
Why her? Addison mused, absently curling her hair. Why dream of Derek’s… whatever she is?
She frowned, finishing her routine and donning her clothes, fingers automatically straightening any wrinkles. Her mother’s voice echoed through her mind, a lesson ingrained so deeply it was carved into Addison’s bones.
A Forbes Montgomery never shows weakness, Addison. We never break. Never let anyone see the cracks.
Her posture straightened instinctively, banishing the memory. Stocking-clad feet slid into heels, she donned a jacket–and the transformation was complete. She checked her reflection in the mirror–and Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd stared back, carefully composed, a fortress of polished perfection.
As she slid into her car, a smirk tugged at her lips, idea quietly blossoming.
What kind of person are you, Meredith Grey? She mused as the engine purred to life. Let’s find out, shall we?