Chapter Text
The party peters out over the course of about an hour. Jackson and April are the first to leave, bidding Addison a polite goodnight as he supports her out of the doorway. Izzie, George, Alex and Lexie leave after, giggling belligerently.
"Don't do anything stupid going home." Addison warns.
"Oh come on, what's the worst that could happen to four drunk superheroes?" George stammers.
Lexie - the most sober (but still notably disoriented in Addison's opinion) cringes, "We won't, Addison. Pinky promise."
Addison laughs, nodding as they walk out the door.
Meredith and Cristina settle on Addison's couch, exchanging sips of the bottle of scotch - Teddy cleans up with Addison.
"Are they gonna be alright?" Addison asks, taking a quick glance at them before looking to Teddy.
"They'll be fine, trust me. I'll make sure of it."
"Are you gonna be alright? You drank more than me and I wouldn't drive."
Teddy laughs, feigning a melodramatic swoon. "Speedster metabolism. The cross I must bear."
Addison chuckles, "Right."
"It has its perks sometimes, at least."
"That it does."
Cristina enters her peripheral, leaning against the doorway lazily. She looks at Teddy and smiles.
"What is she doing?" Addison whispers.
Teddy shrugs, "She likes to stare at me sometimes."
Cristina pokes her tongue out.
Teddy laughs, standing up and approaching Cristina to wrap an arm around her. She turns back to Addison, flashing a smile. "Well, I think this is our cue to go. Goodnight, Addison."
"Goodnight, Teddy."
Teddy and Cristina walk over to the doorway. "You coming, Mer?" Cristina asks.
Meredith flashes a quick glance over to Addison, her eyes lingering before she turns back to Teddy & Cristina, rising off the couch. "Yeah."
"Night, Meredith."
"Bye, Addison."
The door closes behind them and Addison is suddenly hit by a wave of malaise all at once. She tries to ignore it. She turns on the hot water in the shower until steam fogs the mirror, letting the stream hit her body as she rubs her hands over her face listlessly, fingertips turning pink.
"It's nothing. You're overreacting. You're drunk. You just need to go to sleep." She mutters to herself, shutting off the water behind her and lighting briefly as she exits.
She flops onto the middle of her bed, mind unable to contain or suppress the sheer hopelessness keeping her heart in a vice. She turns her head to side, eyes settling on her nightstand. The bright red numbers of her alarm clock stare at her, framed between her phone and a bright orange pill bottle. Milo jumps onto the bed in front of her, curling up next to her chest.
"To sleep or not to sleep? What do you think?" She coos, gently stroking the fur behind his ears as Milo purrs.
"Very well spoken."
She considers. Sleeping is technically the right choice - the healthy, well-adjusted choice that people with their lives together would make. Unfortunately for Addison, the Image Rehearsal Therapy worksheet in her drawer would suggest she is none of those things. Alternatively, she could pick up her phone, turning off her brain and surrendering to the Sisyphean escapism of the internet - an internet that's begun to feel more like a minefield in recent months since her retirement, Twitter refusing to let Red Rocket fade into obscurity (flattering, yes, but also rubbing salt into too fresh of a wound).
"Sleep it is." She groans, reaching for the prescription and wrinkling her nose at the direction label.
"If you're so addictive, why the fuck do I keep forgetting to take you?" Addison grumbles, sitting up and opening the childproof cap.
"It is the intent of the Company to maintain a workplace that is free of drugs and alcohol and to discourage drug and alcohol abuse by its employees." — SDN Employee Handbook, page 25
She wakes up to a mop of ginger cat hair in front of her. Milo is curled on top of her chest, purring gently as he dozes. Addison smiles faintly, gently running a hand through his fur as he wakes up, skipping off of Addison and stretching at the end of the bed. She gets up slowly, rising from the bed and walking towards her closet; she's halfway through buttoning her work shirt (a process that is far too frustrating and time consuming for her taste - fingers scrabbling uselessly as she misses the holes again and again, knuckles heating the fabric in anger) when she remembers the previous day.
"Fuck."
She rips a button off as she tears the shirt open, the small circle clattering against the floor, Addison sighing deeply in response.
She sits at her kitchen counter, staring into the abyss of her coffee mug as Milo chews on his mouse-shaped toy. She tries to think of ways to keep herself busy - ways to be productive, things to do that are actually meaningful - only for her mind to draw a complete blank. All she can think about is putting on that stupid costume she hasn't worn in six months and jumping out of her window. She groans, leaning back in her stool ever so slightly, the stack of unopened boxes in the corner of the room entering her peripheral.
Addison sighs, "Fine."
She's opening a box of sci-fi novels she'd bought over the years but never found the time to read (paperbacks aren't very fire-compatible - good vision isn't either) when she feels a sharp sting in her fingers, a hiss escaping her mouth as she drops the boxcutter in her opposite hand, clattering to the floor. Addison brings her hand up to her face, frowning at bleeding fingertips, a drop falling onto her leg. She considers lighting before looking down at the Yale hoodie and ironically very flammable Red Rocket shorts she's wearing and decides against it, marching to the bathroom in a huff. She turns on the faucet and holds her hand under the running water, fingers burning in pain. Turning off the sink, Addison takes a second look at the wounds - mostly superficial, just bleeding profusely. She opens a drawer and pinches a box of bandaids with a sigh, fumbling with the packaging as she tries to open it, wrapping them around her digits slowly and intentionally. She looks up into the mirror and winces slightly at the sight. The scab on her lip is thicker now, the bruising around her eye having also darkened severely; it blends into the deep, seemingly permanent dark circles underneath her eyes.
"Shit."
The books within the box look nearly pristine - spines intact, page edges unburnt; the perfectionist in her is pleased with their condition, the human wonders what the point is if she's never read them. She dumps them onto the hardwood floor, dust jumping off the covers and permeating into the air. Something gleams in the light at the bottom of the box. Addison frowns, hoisting it up in her trembling hands. She looks down at the glass trophy in her hands, squinting in an attempt to read the engraved text, wondering where her glasses are. She doesn't reach to get them because she knows what it says and exactly what's going to happen when she reads it: 'Red Rocket, Hero of the Year' - what year Addison isn't sure - she has eight of them, after all (closer to four, actually, coming home from a debilitating hospital stay only to be taunted with the peak you can never reach again no matter how hard you try isn't conducive to staying calm in her experience). Addison sighs, dropping the trophy onto her couch, burying it between throw pillows (it's almost painful to look at, especially since the last time she held it her palms didn't resemble a cheese pizza).
Her phone buzzes from its position on the coffee table; picking it up carefully, she looks at the screen - 4PM. Her stomach growls.
"Shit." She sighs, setting her phone back. She never was good at remembering to feed herself - as Red Rocket, she had to or she probably would have dropped dead. At SDN, Teddy was a constant reminder, coming to sit with her and talk over food. Clearly, she's still getting the hang of being (or at least trying to emulate) a normal person. She trudges over to the kitchen, Milo following her slowly. Addison isn't sure what's more depressing: the barren state of her fridge that would probably have Bizzy clutching her pearls if she saw it or the fact that the half-empty bottle of wine in the door looks ridiculously appealing at the moment.
"I shouldn't. It's early." She mutters, reaching for the only two edible looking items.
She throws the last slice of bread into the toaster, tapping her foot impatiently as she holds the egg in her palm, hand on the verge of lighting. Milo meows demandingly. Addison laughs, opening the pantry and picking up a can of wet cat food with her free hand.
"You think I can open this one-handed?"
Milo blinks impassively.
"Me neither, but let's find out together."
She can. It takes a quantity of effort she deems to be utterly pathetic and her thumb is sore but she manages to open it without issue, the egg in her other hand beginning to steam through the slit she made in the top of the shell. Milo munches happily as the toaster finishes.
She keeps thinking about the wine as she eats - hard-boiled egg tasting like smoke and toast stale. She tries to ignore the impulse. She picks up the plate gingerly, removing a hand to turn on the faucet before her grip on the edge of the plate slips. It falls to the ground with a crash, a hair's breadth away from Addison's foot. She sweeps up the pieces in a huff and feels herself increasingly drawn to the fridge.
"Fuck it." Addison mutters, ripping open the door and taking a mouthful straight from the bottle.
She ends up in the bathtub, lukewarm water (well, lukewarm to her, the thermometer reads ninety-five Fahrenheit) up to her chest as she sits leaning against the wall, periodically taking long, melancholic sips from the wine bottle. Slowly, if only gradually, she begins to feel her self-control fade. The weight of the past that often sits so heavy on her shoulders seems to lift and Addison finally stops caring if only for a moment. She reaches for her phone, fingers lighting to dry her hand as she opens her contacts.
Meredith answers on the second ring. "Hello?"
"You wanna have sex with the eight time Hero of the Year?" Addison drawls.
She hears Meredith laugh over the line. "Are you drunk?"
"No." Addison lies (the bottle is almost empty).
"Oh, you're definitely drunk."
"Meredith-"
"I can't have sex with you, Addison."
"Why not?" Addison whines.
"Because it would be taking advantage of you."
"Am I hideous? Is it the burns? It's the burns, isn't it?"
"They don't faze me, no."
"So it's the fire?"
"The fire is actually... kind of sexy. The little sunburns you give me in the shape of your hands are pretty hot."
Addison laughs, "I think that might be the first time somebody's been into the whole 'light on fire when I orgasm' thing."
Meredith chuckles, "Tell you what - if you still want to have sex tomorrow, when you're sober... I'll think about it."
"You'll think about it?"
"I'll think about it."
Addison rolls her eyes, "Are you se-"
"Goodnight, Addison. Remember to sleep on your side."
Meredith hangs up.
Addison sighs, knocking the back of her head against the wall. She lifts the bottle up to her face and frowns when she finds it empty. A meow fills her ears and she turns - Milo sits in the doorway, tail swishing gently and head tilted to the side.
"Don't look at me like that."
Milo blinks.
A groan, "Fine." She grumbles, slowly rising from the bathtub and wrapping herself in the towel she had set aside for herself (she already learnt the hard way what happens when you ignite your whole body with a belly full of accelerant).
She makes the mistake of flicking her gaze over to the mirror when she passes in front of it, pausing in her tracks. Her eyes roam down her figure - she feels her stomach twist as imperfections rack up exponentially.
"Stop it." She chides herself. "Get a fucking grip, Addie."
Exiting the bathroom and flopping onto her bed moments later once she's dressed. Milo jumps precociously next to her, rubbing into her side.
Addison chuckles, gently stroking his fur. "Good boy."
Milo licks her hand.
"You know, for the first time in... a long time I think that I can finally start to... picture a life without Red Rocket. Which I'm sure you're happy about, now that you get to see me more... even if I'm... you know." She mumbles.
Milo continues to purr happily, resting his head against her forearm.
"I didn't actually want to die in that costume, right? So what if I didn't think I'd make it to forty - or even thirty for so long? I was just being realistic! It doesn't - it doesn't mean anything... right?"
Milo's breathing slows as he drifts off to sleep. Addison sighs.
"Good talk."
"The Company provides personal leave for compelling/urgent reasons. Employees having any questions regarding this policy should contact HR." - SDN Employee Handbook, page 30
She wakes up with a migraine, prompting Addison to roll back over, head smothered into her pillow in a poor attempt at alleviating the pressure in her skull. She wakes back up again with the drilling sensation downgraded into a duller thud - she'll take it. She wanders into her kitchen, the loud whirring of her coffee machine making her cringe. The clock reads 12PM.
"Jesus, what's wrong with me?" She whispers.
She cleans obsessively, unpacking box after box and tidying up every last inch of her apartment, wiping down every surface in the deluded attempt to silence (or at least satisfy) the thoughts in her head. She ends up with a spotless, immaculately decorated apartment and a brain full of dread - she picks up the phone.
Teddy answers immediately. "How's your PTO going?" She teases.
"I'm losing my mind."
"Oh come on, it can't be that bad."
"I don't know what to do with myself, Teddy! My apartment is spotless and I can't exactly go to work."
"Don't you have hobbies?"
She opens her mouth to answer before promptly shutting it again at the crushing realisation that no, she in fact doesn't have hobbies - or at least not any she's significantly indulged in over the last several years.
"Addison? You there?"
"Yeah, yeah I just - yeah, right, hobbies! Why didn't I think about that sooner?"
"Are you okay?"
"Fine!" She rushes out far too quickly for someone who is supposedly 'fine'. "Just great, thanks Ted!"
Addison hangs up before she can get a response.
She looks at the stack of books on her coffee table - stories never read, covers never opened, pages never turned - and can't help but feel crushing dread overtake her. She seriously can't remember the last time she's done something as simple as read a book for pleasure. The more she thinks about it, the more depressing she finds it, staring at this monument to her inaction.
"Maybe I should start with... something new." She mumbles, moving towards the bowl of keys next to her door.
The bookstore is quaint. Quiet and tucked away into its own little corner of Seattle, the smell of lavender wafting through the room courtesy of an employee's scented candle. Addison relaxes, rubbing her good eye underneath the lenses of her glasses and trying to ignore the voice in the back of her head that lets her imagine in vivid detail just how catastrophic it would be if she lit with this much kindling around. She strolls through the shelves, eyes flicking over thick spines and genre signs until she settles on the horror section. Firestarter, the spine reads. She's not sure what compels her to pick it up and walk to the register with it.
"Hi, just this, please." Addison greets.
The cashier's eyebrows furrow slightly (she had hoped the glasses would distract from the black eye - clearly she was wrong) before he nods with a smile, ringing the book up for her - behind him, a large, black box sits on the shelf, red square in the top left corner. Addison clears her throat.
"Are those... Lego sets?"
The cashier looks behind him and turns back to her, "Yeah - we started stocking them not too long ago."
Addison nods, "...Could you ring up the Millennium Falcon for me, please?"
He smiles, "Sure, no problem."
She can feel the way her neck flushes in embarrassment when she asks for a bag - the cashier either doesn't notice or ignores it.
"It's not what it looks like, you know." She blurts out, screaming internally at the momentary lapse in impulse control.
"Pardon?"
"I just - um-" She gestures to her eye. "It's not - I'm a boxer!"
The cashier blinks slowly before nodding appreciatively, "Cool."
She smiled tightly, trying to swat away the fantasy of throwing herself into the sun.
Addison walks out of the store onto the street minutes later, breeze tickling her neck and the sounds of the city filling her ears. She steadies herself, getting ready to walk to her car when the sound of hurried footsteps becomes increasingly louder. Looking to her left, she sees a man clutching a purse dashing towards her direction; following the man at a slower pace is a woman, screaming "Help! Stop!". Addison watches as the man dashes closer towards her, stretching out her leg just as he's about to run past and sending him tumbling to the ground with a groan. She pouts, reaching to pluck the purse out of his hands and passing it to the woman who slowly catches up, breathing heavily.
"I believe this is yours?"
"Yes, thank you! Oh my god - I thought he was gonna get away. Thank you so much!"
Addison shrugs, "Don't mention it."
The woman smiles - Addison nods courteously and walks to her car.
Milo rubs himself against her lower back while she's trying to build the Lego set: pieces splayed out on her coffee table, sitting cross-legged on the floor in sweatpants far looser than they used to be and glasses perched on the edge of her nose. Her hands shake as she clicks the pieces together, fingers struggling with the small pieces of plastic. Her tongue pokes out in concentration as she carefully assembles the ship's hull, Return of the Jedi quietly playing on the TV before her phone vibrates, startling her out of her focus.
Addison doesn't bother checking caller ID, quickly accepting the call while she pauses the film and holds her phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, Addison."
She gulps, "Archer! Hi! What's um - what's going on?"
"Everybody at the practice got bonuses, so I got a reservation at Jean-Georges to blow it all. I was thinking why not take my baby sister out on the town? Get some quality bonding time in?"
"...Your date cancelled, didn't she?"
Archer sighs, "Yeah... but it'll still be fun! My treat, really, you don't have to worry about a cent!"
The mention of money hits her like a slap to the face. She bites her lip, looking between the half-assembled Lego set, the depressing row of trophies and unread medical textbooks that line a nearby shelf. "That's... that's nice Archer, but I'm okay, thanks."
Archer scoffs, "What? No, come on! It'll be fun! I'll pick you up. You still live in that cute little place in Gramercy Park, right?"
'Cute little place' is certainly one way to describe a penthouse in one of the most expensive neighbourhoods in Manhattan. Addison pouts. "Archer... I don't live in New York anymore."
"...Oh."
"Yeah I - I got a new job, actually. Seattle."
"Seattle? You moved coasts?"
She sighs, "What can I say... I guess I just - needed the change of scenery."
Not a total lie - although dishonesty with Archer has become second nature.
He clicks his tongue. "Well, as long as you're okay."
"I'm... I'm alright."
"Alright then. I'll uh - I should probably go..."
"Right, yeah... Enjoy your dinner."
"Thanks, uh - bye, Addie."
"Bye, Archie." She breathes just as the line goes dead.
Addison sighs, throwing her phone onto the couch behind her, leaning back and rubbing her hands over her face. A warm melancholy settles in her chest as she breathes, drawing circles into scarred hands with her thumbs. Milo nudges her knee gently with his nose and she laughs mirthlessly, running her fingers through his fur.
"I should've told him." She whispers. Maybe then he wouldn't still think of her as his pathetic baby sister who needs her big brother to take care of her. She wonders how much things would have changed - assuming they would even change at all. If telling Archer or not telling Archer was the difference between Red Rocket still being active and Addison crashing and burning. She sighs, looking down at Milo who was leaning into her warm touch.
"I should've done a lot of things. It's just.. too late now."
She turns off the TV, getting up off the hardwood floor, leg numb with pins and needles, aching as she steps into the bedroom (it's never been same since she broke it - even after the rod was removed). On the nightstand sits the worksheet Dr Turner gave her. Just looking at it fills her with dread. She goes to sleep facing away from it.
"If an accident or injury should occur on the job, it is extremely important for you to notify your manager or HR promptly, no matter how minor the incident may seem." — SDN Employee Handbook, page 37
The worksheet is still there when she wakes up. Just sitting there, taunting her. A visual reminder of just how fucked up Addison truly is. She imagines the satisfaction she would feel if she held it in her hands and watched flames engulf the paper, fire so hot not even ashes would be left behind. She decides against it when she then pictures the disappointment in Dr Turner's eyes that she'd be faced with after.
She's almost out of cat food, Addison notes blankly as she opens a wet can, laying it out for Milo. She finishes the milk while pouring it into her coffee. Addison cringes, rubbing her face with her free hand. A cold fire begins to coil in her gut - she tries to ignore it.
Actually buying groceries is the easy part - she criminally overdresses, shoving on a pair of heels she hasn't worn since before she became charred steak and obsessing over her lipstick in the hope that it draws attention away from how utterly broken she is. She pays extra attention to covering up the bruising around her eye (it's begun to yellow at least - small mercies) after rigorously coating her dark circles in concealer. A man with a goatee wearing a leather jacket lingers around the fruit section - he catches Addison's eye, before she quickly stares down at the pineapples in front of her. She briefly wonders if she should flirt, make a joke about fruit ripeness in an effort to get the man's attention, only to end up distracted by the thought of long, blonde hair framing dead, blue-grey eyes (and the titillating mental image of long fingers popping a piece of tangy pineapple into soft, sensitive lips, chin dripping with juices). When she looks up the man is gone - she can't find it in herself to mind.
In the parking lot, she sees a mother and son exiting their car, walking in the direction of the store. In the boy's hand is the end of a piece of string, attached to a yellow balloon with a smiley face drawn on. Addison smiles, leaning against her trolley as she pushes it towards her car when she hears a loud sneeze followed by a small whimper. Looking around, she sees the balloon begin to fly away, the wind pushing it in her direction. Her body goes into auto-pilot, leaping into the air to just barely catch the edge of the balloon. When Addison lands, her balance falters for a moment, just long enough for her to fall onto the pavement, knees burning in pain as they scrape against the concrete. The boy runs over to her, eyes wide. Addison laughs, gently handing him the balloon - he grips onto the middle of the rope fiercely.
"You should be more careful with that next time."
He nods fiercely, "I will - thanks, lady."
Addison smiles, her chest swelling with pride if only for a moment. "No problem."
The boy's mother runs over to the two of them, laying a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and casting Addison an appreciative look. "Thank you so much - are you okay?"
Addison shrugs, slowly rising from the ground - knees hissing as air touches fresh scrape wounds and blood slowly trickles down her shin. "I'll be fine - at least I didn't break my shoes."
The woman nods, "Alright - take care!"
Addison smiles. When the family enter the store and leave earshot, she reaches to clutch her knee, cursing as tears prick the corner of her eyes.
"Shit." Addison whispers, "Stop it, you look pathetic right now." She hisses - the chastising tone of her voice conjuring vineyards and bicycle accidents into her mind.
Going home seems to become the difficult part. She gets behind the wheel of her car and begins the drive, tapping the peeling leather with her fingers while she waits at a red light. She hears the building collapse before she sees it, foundation caving in and bringing the other floors with them just a few blocks away from Addison's car. She begins to regret driving to the store as she anxiously looks at the traffic lights, waiting for it to glow green before she floors through, cursing the existence of traffic laws as she tries to get towards the scene.
She dashes out of the car the second it's turned off, seeing paramedics wheel someone into an ambulance on a stretcher and hearing a familiar roar. She whips her head around to see Meredith's bike screeching to a halt, Jackson flying in seconds later. Meredith takes off her helmet, tilting her head towards her unbroken hand, eyes widening when she sees Addison. Jackson raises an eyebrow as he lands.
Meredith clears her throat. "Addison, what the hell are you-"
"How can I help?"
"What?"
"I'm serious! I'm here, I can help! Let me help! People are hurt!"
"Are you crazy? It's too dangerous!"
"Your hand is broken!"
"I can-" Meredith's eyes flick downwards, towards the bottom of Addison's skirt, just above her knees. "Are you bleeding?"
"I'm fine! It's nothing!"
"You're a civilian, Addison. It's not safe for you to be here."
Jackson clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "We've got it covered - don't worry. Teddy's on comms and everything."
Addison opens her mouth to respond, only for the last bit of resistance left in her to die in her throat. She nods, turning away to stalk off as she looks up into the air, desperate not to let tears fall (not while she's in public, she's wearing mascara). Why did she do that? Is she a glutton for humiliation now? Heat begins to pool into her face. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sees her hand bathed in a faint orange glow. She blinks furiously, trying desperately to return her eyes to normal as she slams the door to her car shut, resting her forehead against the steering wheel.
"That was fucking stupid, Addison." She mutters to herself as she turns the key of the ignition. The engine thrums to life as she breathes - slowly, deeply, in the effort to not blow up the car (or worse, ruin the seats).
It takes her eight elevator trips to get all of the groceries into her apartment. Before, it usually only took two. When she's done, she closes the door behind her by leaning against it, sliding down to the floor in a puddle of limbs and gently taking off her shoes, heels aching. She laughs mirthlessly into her bloody knees only for it to quickly devolve into whimpers, followed by muted, voiceless sobs - chest heaving as hot tears streak down her face and her ears ring. She feels her cheekbones begin to burn as the tears fall, her skin hissing as each boiling drop escapes Addison's eyes and she feels like she's seven years old again. She sniffles, wiping her eyes and leaving faint pink patches and black smudges all over her hands. Her legs ache when she tries to get up, muscles resisting her very best efforts as her thighs begin to tremble. She falls back down to the floor in a heap, a bird with broken wings. She is not the phoenix, the fire took everything and there is nothing left worth rising from the ashes.
She wakes up to Milo licking her fingers, gently prodding her leg with his paw as he looks at Addison inquisitively. She laughs faintly, scratching him behind the ears and lowering her head.
"I'm sorry. I'm really bad at this, aren't I?"
Milo doesn't respond, simply pressing the tip of his nose against hers.
The ghost of a smile graces Addison's face - leaving shortly after her cheeks burn in protest.
She sighs, slowly steadying herself to get off the floor, methodically carrying the bags crowded around her front door into her kitchen and emptying them. Her knees hiss when she extends them and she looks down to see a single drop of blood running down her leg. She groans, trudging to the bathroom.
She looks up at her reflection and pauses. Along with her ruined mascara, thin red lines burnt into her skin run down her face, from the corners of her eyes to her chin. She presses a finger to one of the scalds, hissing in pain at the contact.
"Not again." She grumbles, shaking her head and focusing back to her grazed knees.
The scrapes are shallow, edges already beginning to scab. The centres weep, Addison's vision blurring with pain as she wipes them clean. She purses her lips, looking between the small box of adhesive bandages next to the sink and her hands.
She sighs, "This is gonna suck."
She sits at the edge of the bathtub, precariously unwrapping the packaging and brusquely applying the small squares over her knees. Her eyes prick with tears.
"It's just a scraped knee, stop being a fucking baby." She sniffles.
Addison finds herself returning to the previous night's position: sitting in her living room between the couch and coffee table, meticulously and carefully assembling the Millennium Falcon. An old pair of shorts leaves her still-bandaged knees painfully exposed and an even older hoodie riddled with scorch marks at the sleeve ends drowns the rest of her. It doesn't feel the same as it did the previous night; suddenly it feels so much more childish. She picks up the TV remote in the attempt to drown out the shame.
"-We asked resident New York superhero Ferryman his opinion on these events-" The news anchor says as an all too familiar talking head filling her screen.
"Are you fucking serious?!" Addison shouts.
Despite her protests, she can't seem to find it in herself to turn it off.
Derek clears his throat on the screen, a drop of water falling from the tip of his nose. "I think that-"
Addison presses the off button before he can finish his sentence.
A few minutes pass, Addison leaning back against the couch with a leg drawn close to her chest, smoke escaping her lips with every exhale through gritted teeth, throat burning. Then, a knock at the door; she startles, looking down and cringing at her current state of dress.
"Addison?" Teddy calls through the door.
She sighs in relief, lifting herself off the floor and trudging over to the entrance.
Teddy holds a full paper bag in her hands. "I didn't know you were a Yankees fan."
Addison scrunches her nose. "I'm not, they suck."
"Then why are you wearing that?" Teddy asks, gesturing to Addison's chest.
She looks down at the grey fabric, realising that the dark blue lettering didn't read "Yale" like she had originally thought.
"Oh! Um - this was an ex's."
"Derek's a Yankees fan?"
Addison rolls her eyes, opening the door and moving to the side for Teddy to enter. She shuts the door after Teddy enters the threshold, leaning against it. "No, he's not. Different ex... What's in the bag?"
Teddy smiles, reaching a hand in and pulling out a small cardboard box. "I heard you had a rough day."
"You better have gotten fries, too."
"Of course I got fries, what kind of animal do you take me for?"
Addison laughs, "Is the fire escape okay? My kitchen's kind of a mess right now."
"Aw, is somebody getting nostalgic?"
She can't seem to get the smile that forms off her face. "Yeah, whatever."
"Who knew you were such a big softie?"
Addison points playfully. "Hey! Careful, I have a reputation to uphold."
Teddy chuckles as she makes her way over.
The sit on the fire escape in silence, cold metal tickling the back of Addison's thighs as they watch the streets below, the sounds of the city filling their ears.
"Are you sure you're not cold?" Addison asks.
Teddy swallows the bite she had just taken. "I'm fine, really - you're like a human space heater."
Addison smiles, shaking her head playfully. "Forget I asked."
A moment passes, the wind passing through their ears; Teddy turns to face her again.
"Seriously though: are you okay?"
She swallows, feigning a laugh as she tilts her head down - hair obscuring her vision (Good, she thinks, A shield). "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
Silence. Addison turns to see Teddy staring at her, heartbroken.
"What?"
Teddy sets her cheeseburger down in the box, taking a deep breath. "Addison - people are worried about you, I'm worried abut you."
The shame of being seen so clearly - of the cracks in her mask being large enough to see through - hits her like a gunshot in the chest. Defensiveness flares in her gut. "Why? I'm fine!"
"People who get put into comas after breaking twenty-five bones aren't just fine, Addison!"
She can smell smoke. "Oh, because suddenly you're an expert?"
"I'd like to think I know a thing or two about extended hospital stays, yes!"
Sparks fly out of her mouth, edges of her lips burning. "Really? Do you now?"
Teddy's gaze softens, shifting from anger to pity; she sighs, running hands through her hair. "Addison... I had a heart attack."
The heat leaves her body like an bucket full of ice-cold water was thrown over over her head. Shame floods her chest like an old friend.
Silence. Teddy shrugs, leaning against the wall. "You're not the only one with shitty powers."
Addison clutches her hands together, gently stroking her knuckles with a thumb. "Teddy, I'm so sorry. I had no idea that you-"
"I know, and you're forgiven. I don't talk about it and it's not like you're a psychic."
Addison pokes her tongue against a sore spot in her inner cheek. "Right."
"I just - I know what you're going through because that was me two years ago. I get it."
Addison digs her tongue into the points of her front teeth (it still feels like yesterday that there was wiring there). "Right."
"Addison-"
"No, I - you're right, Ted. I'm sorry. Let's just change the subject? Please?"
Teddy sighs, giving her a small, tired smile (a smile she's all to familiar with - she wonders when Teddy will finally get sick of her, too) and plucking her cheeseburger out of the box, taking a large bite.
"It's just..." Addison mutters, "It's just that this sucks! I hate the rain and I hate the traffic - and yeah New York had terrible traffic but at least it was New York and I just hate feeling so - so weak and useless all the time! I feel like I can't do anything right anymore! I'm just some - some washed-up dumpster fire..."
Teddy nods sympathetically, shifting slightly to the side for their shoulders to touch. Addison swallows, resting her head on Teddy's shoulder.
"I'm just so fucking tired." Addison sobs.
"I know."
"Does it ever stop?"
"Eventually - at least, I hope it does, or we're both screwed."
They laugh - stiltedly, brokenly, but they laugh nonetheless.
Teddy leaves less than an hour later, smiling gently and bidding Addison good night. The door shuts and her heart is put in a vice, tears threatening to fall again.
She rubs her fingers into her eyes. "Stop fucking crying!" She begs, stalking into the bathroom.
The turns the faucet on, running her hands under the cold water until she's gathered enough to splash onto her face. She huffs, grabbing her toothbrush and applying a neurotic amount of toothpaste, allowing the taste of mint to overpower the rest of her senses, flicking the bristles across her teeth as she brushes the edges in small, obsessive, concentric circles, knuckles turning white in the hand gripping it. Her gaze end up fixed on the angry, pink lines under her eyes as she continues to brush, focus going elsewhere as she scrubs into the same spot over and over. She spits into the sink only to see blood mixed with the toothpaste.
"Fuck!"
"SDN understands that channels of communication should always be kept open and flexible. The Open Door Policy provides a means by which employees can raise concerns and make suggestions." — SDN Employee Handbook, page 21
Fire surrounds her in her dream, peeking into the corners of her vision and tinting everything in sight red. She walks, burning away at the floor beneath her as the air is slowly sucked out of her very lungs and her extremities burn away into ashes. In the distance stands a woman - blonde, back turned to Red. Red dashes towards the woman, stretching out a burning, smoking arm to try and reach her before-
Addison wakes up to a loud chirping in her ears - opening her eyes to see smoke gathering around her. She rolls out of bed frantically, swatting desperately at the quickly widening scorch marks in the mattress, sighing with relief when they've been extinguished and promptly falling back into bed face first.
She groans, "I need to get my shit together."
She sits down at the dining table, the worksheet and a pen laid in front of her. She takes a long, slow slip out of the mug in her hand, scrunching her nose as her glasses fog up. Hot coffee coats her tongue as the sound of Milo happily munching fills her ears. Ceramic touches down on the thick wooden coaster as she picks up the pen, clutching it tightly between stiff, trembling fingers.
"Just have to write it down." She mutters, blank page taunting her as dread and frustration pool in her gut. The dream plays in her head on a loop even as the words fail her, she sighs.
"Just write it down - it's not that hard."
She scrawls five words across the page before stopping, scrutinising her work and promptly crossing it all out.
"It's not that hard." Addison repeats, frantically tapping her fingertips against her forehead in the hope that words will break through.
"Bigger fuck-ups than you have done it, it's not hard."
Why can't she figure out what to say, then?
She spends far too long staring down at the blank page, neck beginning to ache and eyes blurring at the lined white void in front of her. Anger stokes her chest as the pen begins to melt, moulding itself under her fingers.
"Fuck!" She curses, throwing the pen at the wall and rising from her chair, pacing behind it as she runs her hands along her face. "Why is this so hard?!"
She grabs a new pen, sitting back down and staring yet again at the blank sheet.
"You can do this - you're fine. You've done way harder things than this." Addison whispers, tapping the tip of the pen against the top right corner of the page frantically.
The more she tries to concentrate on what to write, the more her mind begins to wander: has she drank water today? Is Milo alright? He's been awfully quiet. Has anyone tried to call her? She should check her phone-
"Stop it!" She berates, knocking on her forehead with the tips of her fingers, "Focus, damn it!"
She stares at the page again, leg beginning to bounce slightly as her brain slowly churns, desperately trying to force the words to come out. Her eyes unfocus, flitting to the corner of her frames where a small smudge sits. Addison sighs, pulling her glasses off and brusquely cleaning the lenses with the end of her shirt, only for the smudging to spread.
"Oh, come on!" She huffs, rising from her chair yet again and retreating to the bedroom to find the cleaning spray.
She sits back down again at the table, massaging her temples as the page taunts her once again.
She clicks her tongue, picking up the pen and clicking it. Then she clicks it again - and again, and again. The pace of her clicking slowly increases, becoming a deafening chorus of impatience and inaction until she feels her thumb begin to cramp. She drops the pen back onto the sheet, rising from her chair and stalking off.
Her calves begin to ache as she walks down the street - neon signs quickly entering and exiting her vision. The clicking of her heels fills her ears as Addison basks in the cool night air, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of her skin being ripped off as she delicately balances on the thin, long points. She ends up in front of a small coffee shop, ambience leaking out into the city; she enters slowly, bell softly ringing when she opens the door.
The barista smiles at her tightly, looking up from the textbook resting behind the counter. "Hey, what can I get for you?"
"Long black, two sugars, please?"
"Sure, no problem! You can have a seat while you wait."
Addison nods, turning around to face the small collection of tables before her, empty except for a single head of blonde hair and dark brown eyes focused on her.
"Hey." Izzie greets, small smile creeping into her features. She takes a long, slow sip from the disposable cup in her hands, gesturing for Addison to sit.
Addison chuckles, sitting in the chair across from her. "Hey."
"Fancy seeing you here. I thought this was my spot." Izzie jokes.
"Yeah, I uh - I thought I'd... explore a little."
Not an outright lie.
Izzie grins, leaning back in her chair and spreading her arms out. "Well, welcome to the third best coffee in Seattle."
A snort, "Only third best?"
"Hey, that's high praise; there are plenty of coffee shops in Seattle... Besides, the other two aren't open right now."
Addison snaps her fingers (or she tries to, anyway - no sound comes out). "There's the caveat."
Izzie raises her hands in mock surrender, the smile never leaving her face. Addison's gaze flits to the thick burns on Izzie's palms, silicone tape wrapped around her fingertips.
Izzie clicks her tongue awkwardly, drumming her fingers against the table. "So... how's your forced vacation going?"
Addison gives a dramatic grimace, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth. "It's... it's going, alright."
Izzie nods, "You didn't miss too much, if it's anything: Alex had to go to the hospital after stopping a bullet and Meredith got benched from any real action but other than that? Surprisingly pedestrian."
Addison nods, "Well that's-"
The bell rings and the sound of heavy footsteps fill the shop; Addison turns to see a hooded man standing in front of the counter, gun in hand.
The sound of a lighter flipping open turns her attention back around.
"Izzie, no!" Addison whispers.
"But-"
"Trust me: gunpowder and fire don't mix."
"Shut up!" The man yells, pivoting to point his gun at Addison and Izzie.
Addison swallows, raising her hands in the air - palms next to her face. "Hey, relax-"
"Relax? Relax?! Don't you tell me to relax, lady!" He shouts, a tiny tremor in his hand beginning to shake the gun.
Addison smiles - tight, small. "Okay, I'm sorry... Nice gun, by the way. Glock 17?"
His eyes widen ever so slightly. He swallows, "Uh... G19. I think."
Her heart is in her throat. "Nine millimetre. Through-and-through."
The memory still feels fresh.
"You a gun nut?" He asks.
She doesn't dare check to see if her hands are shaking. "No, I just used to date one."
"You know your stuff... Better than me." He mutters.
She titters, "Well, it's - it's a scary world we live in."
He gulps, "It is."
"My name's Addison, by the way."
He furrows his brows, taken aback before he blinks. "Rodney."
Addison smiles, "Hi, Rodney."
His steely expression falters, lip quivering. She realises that he is not a man - only a boy.
A tear runs down his eye. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here." He whispers.
"Hey, it's okay. We all make mistakes. Nothing you can't come back from."
"No, I - I - fuck! Why did I do this? This was so stupid!" He sobs, using his free hand to tap his forehead with the butt of his palm. He looks at the gun with a rueful gaze, sniffling. "I should've just-"
"Rodney, Rodney, hey. I know you're scared, and you feel alone, and that everything seems hopeless. I do, okay? I've been there, trust me. Life sucks sometimes, it really does - a lot of the time, actually! One minute you're on top of the world and the next... the next you're back to square one. But it's temporary and it's better to realise that nothing lasts forever now, then when it's too late. Nothing lasts forever. Not even this."
Rodney nods, tears filling his eyes.
"Rodney, I need you to put the gun down now."
"I - I can't." He sobs, finger moving away from the trigger.
Addison stands from her chair - slowly, intentionally, her movements painstakingly telegraphed. "Can I walk over?"
He nods, "Yeah." He whimpers.
Addison swallows, slowly stepping towards him - the barrel of the pistol staring her in the face.
"Rodney, please give me the gun."
He lowers the pistol, tilting his wrist towards the side and loosening his grip; Addison wraps her hands around his, gently prying it out of his palm. She holds it by the barrel, turning the safety on and pulling out the magazine, tossing it to Izzie. She places the gun on the table beside her.
"You did the right thing. It's okay." Addison whispers, outstretching her arms slightly.
He leaps into her embrace, chin resting on the crook of her neck as his chest is wracked with sobs.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry - fuck, I'm so sorry."
She strokes his back with her hand. "It's gonna be okay. Everything is going to be okay. You will be okay." She says, a lump beginning to form in her throat. She makes eye contact with the barista, using a hand to make a phoning gesture - the barista nods.
She stands outside the shop, leaning against the window as she watches Rodney be escorted into a patrol car - the lights of the sirens reflecting on a puddle in the street. The bell chimes behind her, the barista shuffling out holding a steaming paper cup.
Addison accepts the coffee. "Thank you. How much?"
"How much? Are you kidding? As far as I'm concerned, you get free coffee for life."
Addison's eyes widen - she shakes her head, reaching for her wallet. "Oh! Are you sure? Because I can totally-"
"Woah, hey! Seriously, don't worry about it. Heroes get free coffee, end of story."
Addison laughs, "I - I'm not a hero, really, I just-"
The barista walks back into the shop, "End of story!"
The door closes shut in front of her and she's left with the cold night air and the steaming paper cup warming her fingers. She sighs, watching the way her breath condensates in front of her before taking a small sip, humming in approval. Addison watches as Izzie finishes speaking with another uniformed officer, nodding anxiously when dismissed and walking over to Addison.
"That was insane." She breathes.
Addison laughs, "Tell me about it."
Izzie sighs, leaning against a light post. "God, I - I don't wanna know how much worse that would've gone if you weren't here."
"What do you mean?"
"The way you just - talked him down like that, that was incredible!"
Addison scoffs, "What, that? That was nothing - basic de-escalation, anyone could've done it."
"I wouldn't have. Didn't even cross my mind - if it was me the windows would probably be busted and I would've sent us all to the hospital."
A stilted chuckle escapes Addison's lips. "You're selling yourself short."
"Maybe. But you are, too."
A beat. Addison clenches her jaw, taking a deep breath. "It's really not that impressive, I swear. You just - you just have to care, I guess. Enough to notice that he's holding the gun wrong and his hand is shaking and that nobody else in the building with you looks old enough to have seen 9/11-"
"I'm twenty-seven."
"-and remember it. You just - I don't know. I guess when you do this for long enough you start to notice the little things a lot more. The world bleeds and you bleed with it."
Izzie nods, eyes widened slightly in awe; she gulps, "Okay... how do you know if you care too much, though?"
Addison laughs mirthlessly, tilting her head back into the wall behind her and looking up into the sky. "That's the funny part - you don't. It's... a process - trying to care enough to motivate yourself to actually do good but not so much that you want to stay in bed all day because it feels like the world is ending around you."
"Right."
She looks back at Izzie, seeing the small notes of sadness in her eyes; Addison takes another long sip. "Look, I'm sorry. I know that I was kind of a role model for you and I'm probably just letting you down and-"
"You're not."
A small smile, a raised brow. "I'm not?"
Izzie shrugs, "Don't get me wrong, Red Rocket is, you know, my hero, my idol, my gold standard for how we should be doing our jobs but... you're not Red Rocket anymore - she's a symbol. But Addison? She's pretty real. And she's my friend."
She really hopes she's not crying right now. Addison grins, "Well, if you ever want to take a few pages from the Red Rocket school of superheroics... I have a lot to teach - assuming you want to learn, anyway."
Izzie beams, "I'd like that."
"Employees are expected to use good judgement and avoid situations that create an actual or potential conflict between their personal interests and the interests of SDN." — SDN Employee Handbook, page 12.
Her knee aches. A sharp, deep throbbing embedded into the joint as she watches her coffee machine pour into the mug. Milo munches loudly from his bowl, the morning sun lighting up her kitchen. Addison balances herself against the wall, shifting her weight to her good leg and experimentally moving her bad knee. The pain flares with a vengeance.
She sighs, "Great." Addison grumbles.
The pain stubbornly persists. It's there when she makes breakfast, it's there when she showers. Its presence continues well into the afternoon.
Addison groans from her position on the couch, good leg tucked into her chest while her bad leg lays extended in front of her. She bends her knee, hissing slightly at the way the ache flares up before watching as her knee - and only her knee - bursts into flame. The relief is short-lived, quickly disappearing once her bones have acclimated to the temperature. Addison's tongue pokes slightly out of the corner of her mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as the fire brightens. Once again, relief fades quickly and once again, she stokes the flames hotter and hotter until her skin starts to burn.
She hisses, quickly extinguishing herself and tapping her reddened knee, a burning pain overwhelming her. "Shit!"
She leans back into the couch, head sinking into the armrest. She sighs, rolling off the couch and stumbling towards the kitchen.
The frozen peas against her kneecap start to sting rather quickly. She rolls her eyes, gently removing them and wincing at the image of her scarred, pink knee covered in condensation. The original knee pain perseveres. Addison tilts her head as far back as her neck allows and whines. A memory comes to her after - recent, painful. A meeting in a physiotherapist's office, a shiny, untouched box; the words "pain management" accompanied with a kind, irritatingly pitying smile.
Addison stands slowly, meandering over to the bedroom and sitting on the edge of her bed, opening the nightstand drawer. The box is coated in a layer of dust when she pulls it out; Addison smears it off with her other hand gingerly. Carefully, she opens the box, prying out the small device and the assortment of wires and electrodes accompanying it. She squints, reaching for her glasses as she turns the box upside down, a small paper pamphlet falling onto the bed.
"Okay. Just have to figure out how to use this now." Addison mutters.
She reads the instructions carefully, slowly and consciously attaching the electrodes of the TENS machine around her kneecap. She turns it on, wincing in preparation - only for nothing to seemingly happen. She blinks, fiddling with the settings until a steady, gentle pulse reverberates through her leg.
"Oh, fuck." Addison sobs, giggling hysterically at the respite.
Milo pads hesitantly into the room, staring at the electrodes. Addison laughs, patting the spot next to her on the bed. He jumps onto the sheets, nuzzling himself into a corner with a huff. Addison chuckles, adjusting her position on the bed to stare at her ceiling, the pulsing of the TENS machine lulling her to sleep.
She wakes up with a chill in her spine, her bedroom dark as the night breeze flows through her open window. Addison sighs, slowly peeling off the electrode of the now turned off TENS machine and carefully climbing out of bed; the pain in her knee is finally gone. She stretches, back clicking as she lets out a groan. She closes the window, wind tickling her nose. Addison exits the bedroom, looking to see the blank worksheet still laying on her dining table. She cringes, looking down to appraise her clothes before shrugging, grabbing her keys and walking out the door.
The wind whips her hair behind her as she sits on the roof, legs dangling precariously over the edge. She looks down at the cold, hard pavement below. She squints, trying to make out the shapes on the ground to little success outside of being able to identify the people-sized blobs illuminated by the streetlight. Addison tsks, shaking her head as she looks to the sky, dark clouds and light pollution blocking out the stars.
"Whatever." She mumbles, pushing herself off the building.
The free fall is glorious; the wind rushing past her ears as her heart rises to her throat and her stomach drops. Her body feels electric, bursting at the seams with adrenaline as a smile creeps onto Addison's face. She ignites at the last second, taking off into the air with glee; she looks down to see a large scorch mark on the sidewalk.
She giggles, "Oops."
She's made worse. Nothing is yet to top the one Addison made when she learnt she could fly.
She can't remember the last time she's done this: flying through the air, far above the city skyline, not a care in the world. She beams, closing her eyes in bliss as she loops through the air, leaving a trail of smoke behind her. She plays with her speed first - trying to match the pace of a car on the ground below her, then with altitude - rising higher and higher into the sky until the air becomes thin and the chill becomes too much, her flames dimming until she's fallen far down enough to breathe again, burning brighter once more.
In the distance, the Space Needle stands tall and proud - a beacon for its city. Addison flies towards it, drawn to it like a moth is with flame. She looks down at the streets below, taking notice of the small gathering of people near several food trucks close to the Needle. She lands far enough away to not be seen, quickly extinguishing herself and stomping out a small patch of fire that had spread to the grass beneath her feet. She smooths out her blouse - fireproof, she made sure most of her clothes were years ago - and turns around to look at the tower behind her one last time before walking over to the congregation she saw earlier.
Addison sees a half dozen food trucks gathered around the area, small crowds standing in front of each of them. She looks around, spotting a familiar head of short brown hair sitting at a bench.
Alex nods at her when she walks over. "Heard you talked down a shooter. Impressive stuff - think you could teach me?" He asks, quickly taking a bite out of his taco.
Addison laughs, sitting down next to him. "What do you need de-escalation for? You're bulletproof."
Alex shrugs, "Getting shot still hurts."
She nods.
He clears his throat. "Was that you up there a second ago?"
"You saw that?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Huh. Usually, nobody looks up."
Alex smirks, "Well, Toto, I guess we're not in Kansas anymore."
She rolls her eyes, smacking him playfully. "Can it."
He hums, taking another bite of the taco, silently offering her the untouched one in his other hand.
She waves her hands in front of her in polite refusal. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly-"
He swallows, "Relax. It's just a taco, dude."
She chuckles, "Okay, dude." She says, snatching it from his hand and taking a bite.
Humiliatingly, Addison realises this is the first thing she's eaten in hours - the flavour hitting her tongue with the intensity of a freight train as a horrifying moan escapes her lips.
Alex beams, "Right? I love these guys. Cristina tipped me off to them."
She swallows, shyly nodding. "It's a really good taco."
They sit in silence for a moment, watching the food trucks and the people huddled up in front of them.
"This is my favourite part of the day." He mutters.
Addison raises an eyebrow, turning her head again to look at him. "This? People watching near food trucks with your coworkers?"
"No, no I mean - this-" He gestures vaguely to their surroundings. "Watching people - normal people just living out their lives in peace. The small, mundane crap you don't think about half the time until you start taking a few too many knocks to the head. The simple stuff makes it all worth it, you know?"
Addison looks back at the trucks, watching the people walking down the street, the food truck employees yelling at each other over sandwiches, the small groups of friends smiling giddily at each other after taking bites of their meals. She can't help but think of the little girl who scraped her face cycling down a hill and the redheaded teenager that couldn't pronounce her own name because of her braces.
She swallows, salt coating her tongue as she blinks back tears. "Yeah, I get what you mean."
He either doesn't notice or doesn't acknowledge her state. "It's why I do it, anyway. It just feels like the right thing to do, you know? And even if I didn't have powers I would've just found a different way to do stuff like this."
"Helping people?"
He nods, "Helping people."
She smiles - it doesn't reach her eyes. "You're a good guy, Alex. Don't let it get beaten out of you."
"Did it get beaten out of you?"
She doesn't answer.
"Employees should be aware that if they enter into a personal relationship with a subordinate employee, a conflict of interest may exist, which requires full disclosure to the Company." — SDN Employee Handbook, page 8
She gets back in through the fire escape, hands trembling as she opens the window and tumbles inside. Milo looks up from his position on the floor, seeing her and quickly returning to playing with his toy. Addison pushes herself off the floor, closing the window behind her and massaging her neck. She pads over to the kitchen, looking back and forth between the fridge and the worksheet. Sighing, she sits at the table and picks up the pen. The words are finally beginning to flow - within five minutes, she's done. Addison laughs, picking up the piece of paper and reading over her work, beaming. She tucks it away in her purse with pride filling her chest.
A knock at the door pulls her attention. She frowns, pulling on an old Pixies T-Shirt (Derek's, accidentally stolen) and padding to the door.
Meredith stands at the other side, phone held in her non-casted hand, showing her an image of a flaming figure flying in mid-air. "Look who's famous."
Addison groans, "Seriously? Fuck."
Meredith shrugs, tucking the phone into her pocket and crouching down, picking up a bottle of wine from off the floor. "I wouldn't worry about it too much - plenty of people with fire powers in Seattle."
Addison steps to the side, taking the bottle from Meredith and closing the door behind them. "Please don't tell me Molotov can fly."
Meredith looks over her shoulder to see Addison. "Honestly? I have no idea."
Addison nods, walking over to the kitchen and grabbing wine glasses.
She comes back to see Meredith sitting on the couch, leaning forward to scrutinise the still unfinished Lego set.
Addison cringes, "Look, it's not-"
"Relax, it's cute. Nice to see you have hobbies outside of fucking your coworkers and talking about how you don't want to live anymore."
Addison snorts, "Jesus, Meredith!"
"Okay, that last part was hyperbolic but it did make you laugh."
Addison rolls her eyes, sitting next to Meredith on the couch and handing her a glass. She opens the bottle and pours into both their glasses.
Meredith takes a sip. "What is this, the Death Star?"
"Millennium Falcon."
"Yeah, that means nothing to me. I've never actually seen Star Wars."
"What?"
"I haven't seen them!"
"Never? Not even a little bit?"
"Nope."
Addison gasps, melodramatically placing a hand over her chest before reaching for the remote.
"What are you doing?" Meredith asks.
"Uh - fixing that."
"You can't be serious."
"Well, I can't exactly let you drive home now. So yes, I am serious."
Meredith laughs, "Okay, then."
Addison grins, "Great!"
She puts on A New Hope ("But isn't that the fourth one?" "Watching them in chronological order is the worst possible decision you could make."), gleefully watching the familiar scenes play out on the TV, occasionally leaning into Meredith to provide trivia.
Halfway through the movie Meredith speaks up. "Okay, I think I get it now."
"Get what? Star Wars?"
"The appeal. Luke spends his whole life on a boring little water farm until Ben shows up and whisks him away into something new and exciting. It's the perfect power fantasy for nerdy kids who want some crazy, external factors to take them out of their situations."
Addison nods, "What do you mean by that, exactly?"
Meredith sighs, finishing her glass (the bottle is empty, Addison's glass is half-full) and grabbing the remote to pause the movie. "I don't know, I guess I just - I'm too dark and twisty to appreciate it right. I just don't think you can wait for someone to fly underneath you and save your life like that. I think you have to save yourself."
Addison nods.
"I'm sorry, I know you really love this movie and I'm drunk and-"
"No, I get it."
Meredith blinks, raising an eyebrow. "You do?"
"Yeah. I do. We have to save ourselves."
Meredith swallows, "Okay."
"But maybe - just maybe - people can save themselves... together."
A small smile lights up Meredith's face - Addison's heart races. "I think you might be onto something there."
Addison giggles, lifting the wine glass to her lips. "I have good ideas sometimes."
They fall asleep on the couch before the credits roll.