Chapter Text
Seattle feels wrong in the heat.
It’s too bright, too heavy, too still like the city is holding its breath.
Meredith stands barefoot in her kitchen, hair down, a sheen of humidity glinting on her collarbone as she packs her kids’ lunch boxes. The fan on the counter does little more than stir the hot air around. Even the strawberries look tired.
Her phone buzzes once, skittering slightly against the countertop. She glances down, sees Bailey’s name, and taps it open with a thumb still sticky from jelly.
‘You’ll never guess who’s back on the surgical roster,’ Bailey’s text reads.
‘Who?’ Meredith types back, not thinking much of it.
‘Addison.’
She stares at the name for a second too long.
Addison.
Of course.
She sets the phone down beside the strawberries and exhales, slow and even. The noise of the fan fills the silence ,white noise for thoughts she doesn’t want to have.
The sound of footsteps comes from the hall, light and lazy. “We’re out of coffee again,” Amelia says, voice already edged with caffeine withdrawal.
Meredith doesn’t turn around. “It’s too hot for coffee.” “That’s not a thing,” Amelia says, crossing into the kitchen. She’s barefoot too, curls frizzy from the humidity, holding a mug that probably hasn’t been washed since last night. “What’s your excuse today?”
Meredith seals a sandwich container. “The heat. The children. Existential dread. Take your pick.”
Amelia leans against the doorway. “You heard the news, right?”
“Which news?” Meredith asks, though she already knows. “Addison,” Amelia says, watching her closely. “She’s coming back to Grey Sloan. Something about a surgical trial and needing her old OR back.”
Meredith slices an apple, too neatly. “Good for her. She’s a great surgeon.”
Amelia hums. “Mhm. Is it gonna be weird?” Meredith looks up briefly. “Why does everyone assume it’ll be weird?”
“She’s like my sister, you’re like my sister. Just I don’t want it to be weird ” Amelia says, her grin sly but not unkind. Meredith sighs and keeps cutting. “ Then stop making it weird. It’s been, what, over a decade? We’re adults now. Colleagues. Friends maybe. ” Meredith puts her hands up turning around.
Amelia lifts a brow. “Friends? You sure about that?” . “Why not?” Meredith says. “People change. Addison and I we went through hell with Derek, sure, but it’s ancient history. She made my life miserable once, but she also made me stronger. I can respect that.”
Amelia hops onto the counter, smirking. “You realize you sound like someone giving a eulogy.”
Meredith gives her a look. “You’re projecting. That’s what this is.” “Uh-huh,” Amelia says, unconvinced. “You just have that voice. The one where you’re pretending you don’t care, but you’re already overthinking it.” Meredith rolls her eyes and drops the knife into the sink. “I am not overthinking it. I have three children, two surgical trials, and a heatwave to think about. Addison Montgomery’s return ranks about twelfth on my list of current crises.”
“Right,” Amelia says. “And yet, you’re slicing apples like they personally offended you. Meredith presses her lips together, but the corner of her mouth twitches. They fall quiet for a moment. The only sound is the low buzz of the fan, the soft clink of containers.
“She always looked so put together,” Amelia says eventually. “Even when everything was falling apart. It’s kind of annoying.”
Meredith lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah. That’s her thing. Flawless hair, perfect posture, zero sweat no matter how hot it gets.” She glances toward the window, sunlight spilling across the counter. “Meanwhile, I look like I’m melting.”
“You’re fine,” Amelia says, sipping her coffee. “You’re intimidating in a completely different way.”
“Intimidating isn’t the same as graceful,” Meredith mutters. “It’s better,” Amelia counters. Then, softer: “Hey, seriously. You okay about this?”
Meredith looks up, not defensive now, just thoughtful. “Yeah. I am. We’ve both moved on. She’s… a part of the past. That’s all.”
Amelia studies her face for a moment, then nods, hopping down from the counter. “Okay. But if you start stress-baking later, I’ll know why.”
“I only stress-bake during pandemics,” Meredith says dryly. Amelia smirks, heading for the door. “Good to know. I’ll see you at the hospital. Try not to melt before then.”
When she’s gone, Meredith leans against the counter for a moment, looking at the quiet house. She’s not lying, she is fine. Or close enough to it that she can pretend. But still, the name lingers. Addison Montgomery. It doesn’t sting like it used to. It just… echoes.
By the time Zola runs in asking about sunscreen and lunch boxes, Meredith’s back in motion, the steady hum of her routine swallowing whatever flicker of curiosity Addison’s name had lit.
Still, as she locks the front door and steps out into the glaring, golden heat, she catches herself wondering what Addison will look like now even though she often sees her posts on facebook or Instagram. She wonders what she’ll say when she sees her again.
Seattle greets her with heat that sticks to the skin and light that’s too bright for nostalgia.
Addison Montgomery pauses on the sidewalk outside Grey Sloan, one hand resting on the strap of her bag, the other clutching a coffee that’s already lukewarm. For a moment, she just watches the hospital doors slide open and shut, the same rhythm, the same energy, a decade later.
She takes a breath that’s steadier than she feels.
Then she walks in.
Inside, it smells the same, disinfectant, coffee, and the faint scent of rain clinging to scrubs. The chatter of nurses, the beep of monitors, the rush of gurneys. It’s chaos wrapped in comfort.
“Dr. Montgomery,” comes a familiar voice.
Addison turns, and her face breaks into a genuine smile. “Dr. Bailey. Dr. Webber. My favorite duo of mildly judgmental geniuses.”
Bailey crosses her arms, fighting a grin. “I see Los Angeles hasn’t cured your arrogance.”
“I tried humility once,” Addison says. “Didn’t suit me.”
Webber chuckles, pulling her into a brief, warm hug. “It’s good to have you back, Addison.”
“Don’t say that,” she says softly. “You’ll make me believe it’s permanent.”
Bailey tilts her head toward the elevators. “Come on, then. Let’s get you settled before you melt into the floor.”
They walk through the corridors of fluorescent light and nostalgia. Addison’s eyes flicker over familiar corners, remembering surgeries, tears, laughter, love, and loss. Every step feels like a heartbeat echoing from another life.
Bailey catches her glance. “Lot’s changed since you were last here.”
Addison hums. “So I’ve heard. Though, judging by the chaos in the pit, not that much.”
Bailey snorts. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough. You’ve got residents following your surgery today. Try not to terrify them.”
“Why?” Addison asks, feigning innocence. “Fear is a powerful learning tool.”
Webber laughs. “She’s still the same.”
A few minutes later, they reach the conference room. Through the glass wall, Addison spots a group of residents jittery, whispering, pretending not to be terrified.
She can’t help the smirk that forms.
God, she’s missed this.
Bailey opens the door. The chatter stops instantly.
Addison steps inside like she owns the room, because, in a way, she always did. Her heels click across the floor, her red hair catches the light, and she lets silence hang just long enough to make them squirm.
When she finally speaks, her voice is crisp and magnetic “I’m Dr. Addison Montgomery,” she says, eyes sweeping the room. “And you must be the group that’s been screwing up the program.” The words hit like a scalpel. sharp, clean, precise.
A few nervous chuckles ripple through the group. One intern looks like they might faint. Another drops their pen. Bailey tries not to smile. Webber folds his arms, clearly entertained.
Addison tilts her head, lips curving. “Good. You’re still conscious. That’s a start. Now, let’s see if you can survive me.”
When the interns scatter out, whispering about how terrifyingly beautiful she is, Bailey shakes her head. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”
Addison shrugs, unbothered. “What? I’m establishing dominance.”
“Or trauma,” Bailey mutters.
“Either works,” Addison says smoothly, tugging on her gloves.
Webber chuckles. “You really haven’t changed.”
Addison pauses for half a beat — long enough for her smile to falter, just slightly. “No,” she says softly. “Not in the ways that matter.”
Bailey gestures toward the OR wing. “Come on, hotshot. Let’s get you to your patient.”
Addison nods and follows, but as they turn the corner, her gaze catches on a familiar name on an office door:
Dr. Meredith Grey.
The sight stills her steps.
For a moment, her practiced composure slips something warm and complicated flickers behind her eyes.
Then she straightens, smooths her hair, and keeps walking
The hospital hums with the kind of energy that only comes when a legend walks back through its doors.
Word travels fast in Grey Sloan, faster than a page, faster than a code blue. By noon, half the hospital knows that Dr. Addison Montgomery is back. By twelve-oh-five, everyone’s already talking about her.
In the residents’ lounge, Levi Schmitt, Jo Wilson, and Taryn Helm hover around the coffee machine like it’s the epicenter of all vital information.
Levi’s eyes are wide as he stirs his cup. “I mean she just walked in, you guys. Like this perfectly tailored, red-haired storm of confidence and judgment. I think she made three interns cry.”
Levi laughs, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah, and she called us the group that’s been screwing up the program.”
Jo gasps. “No. She didn’t.”
“She absolutely did,” helm says, smirking. “honestly? Iconic.” Jo states.
Helm, sitting on the counter, scrolls through her tablet like she’s not listening but she is. She’s always listening when Meredith Grey’s name might come up.
Jo lowers her voice. “You know, Addison Montgomery was Derek Shepherd’s ex-wife.”
Helm raises a brow. “You don’t say.”
Levi ignores the sarcasm. “And Meredith was—”
“—the other woman,” Helm finishes flatly, not looking up.
Jo winces. “Oof. That’s ancient history, though. Right?”
Helm finally looks up from her screen, deadpan. “Nothing is ancient in this hospital. It’s Grey Sloan. Ghosts practically scrub in with us.”
Levi snorts. “Still, can you imagine being Addison? Coming back to the place where your ex-husband worked with the woman he left you for?”
Jo gives him a look. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“I’m not judging,” Levi protests. “I’m just saying that’s a lot of emotional geometry for one hospital.”
Helm rolls her eyes but hides a smile behind her cup. “You’re all forgetting something.”
Jo glances over. “What’s that?”
Helm leans back against the counter, casual but certain. “Addison Montgomery might be a legend, she’s brilliant, she’s terrifying, and she probably smells like money and good decisions, but I’m Team Grey.”
Levi blinks. “Team… Grey?”
Helm shrugs. “Always. Meredith’s been through hell and came out standing taller. She’s earned her spot as the sun around here.”
Levi nods slowly, thoughtful. “Okay, fair. But you have to admit, it’s kind of poetic. Addison and Meredith, two ends of the same story, back in the same building.”
Helm’s gaze flickers, something unreadable in her tone. “Yeah. And I don’t think that story’s over yet.”
A beat of silence follows filled only by the hum of the vending machine and the distant echo of Addison’s voice down the hall.
Levi exhales dramatically. “Well. If anything explodes, I’m grabbing popcorn.”
Jo grins. “You’ll have to share.”
Helm doesn’t answer. She just looks toward the hallway where Addison’s heels click against the tile sharp, steady, unstoppable and then toward the wing where Meredith’s office sits, quiet and still.
Yeah, she thinks. Something’s coming.
The residents have barely recovered from Addison’s first words, the legendary line about “screwing up the program” when Jo, ever eager to make a good impression, steps forward.
“Hi — I’m Jo Wilson,” she says, extending her hand. “I’m one of the new OB residents —”
Addison doesn’t look at her hand. Instead, she tilts her head, scanning Jo like she’s evaluating whether she’s a problem or entertainment. Her red hair catches the fluorescent light, and her eyes glint with amused authority.
“Great. Coffee,” Addison says, casually.
Jo blinks. “Uh… coffee?”
“Yes,” Addison says, perfectly calm, perfectly commanding. “Black. Sweet. Please.”
Jo fumbles, glancing at Levi and Helm, who are staring as if this were some sort of performance art. Levi whispers, “You’re supposed to get it for her?”
Helm shrugs. “Welcome to Addison Montgomery’s world. Just go with it.” Whispers.
Jo gulps. “Right. Black. Sweet. Got it.”
Addison finally glances at her hand, but only long enough to nod once. “See? You already passed the first test. Efficiency is key.”
Jo nods furiously, trying not to spill the cup she hasn’t even picked up yet.
Addison turns her attention back to the room of wide eyed residents , her voice crisp and confident. “Now that we’ve covered introductions, let’s get to the part where I see if you can actually survive me.”
Levi mutters under his breath, half to himself, half to the room: “I’m never drinking coffee again.”
Jo shoots him a glare but can’t help laughing a little nervous, a little thrilled.
Helm smirks, crossing her arms. “Yep. Addison Montgomery is exactly as terrifying as they say.”
And somewhere in the back of the room, Addison’s eyes flick toward the office wing where Meredith’s door sits, just a brief glance, almost imperceptible. A hint of history, tension, and unspoken curiosity.
For now, though, she’s the queen of the OR. And she loves it.
Meredith’s office is sweltering, the tiny air conditioner doing little more than pushing hot air around. She’s pacing like a caged animal, phone pressed to her ear, tapping her foot against the floor in frustration.
“Cristina. I’m… I’m not ready,” she starts, voice sharp but shaky. “I’m not ready at all. Addison is coming back, Cristina. She’s… she’s Addison!”
Cristina’s calm, unbothered tone cuts through her panic like a scalpel. “Mer… it’s Addison Montgomery. Not a bomb. You haven’t even seen her yet. You’re freaking out over a redhead ghost.”
“Redhead ghost?!” Meredith throws her hands up. “Cristina, she’s brilliant. Terrifying. Gorgeous. Commanding. And I—” She stops herself, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t even deal with how she’s going to see me.”
Cristina snorts. “Uh-huh. Right. Meredith Grey, surviving a plane crash, pandemics, and multiple near-death experiences, is now undone by… Addison Montgomery?”
Meredith groans. “It’s not just that!” She spins toward the window, gripping the sill. “The last time I saw her… was when Callie had the baby. That’s years ago. And now—” She swallows, pacing again. “Amelia told me to just be friendly, professional. But what if it’s weird?”
Cristina’s voice drops to a teasing lilt. “Weird, huh? Meredith Grey. Sounds like you have a little… crush.”
Meredith freezes mid-step. “What? No!” Her cheeks heat up despite the fan. “Cristina, it’s not a crush. It’s… history. And respect. And—fine, maybe a little curiosity—but not a crush!”
Cristina hums knowingly. “Uh-huh. History. Respect. Curiosity. Got it. So, basically a crush.”
Meredith groans again and throws herself into the chair, hugging the phone. “I knew this would be awkward. I just… I talked to Amelia this morning, okay? She reminded me that we’re supposed to be grown-ups about this. Friendly. Professional. But now I keep thinking about all the old… whatever it was between us. And now she’s back, and it’s going to be weird. So weird.”
Cristina sighs, amused. “Mer, you’re overthinking this. You always do. Addison’s just a human. You survived Derek, you survived life, you’ll survive Addison.”
Meredith groans. “I’m not sure human Addison is going to be enough to survive. I mean, she’s Addison Montgomery. The one who can walk into a room and make it feel like the sun just showed up.”
Cristina laughs, sharp and delighted. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re totally screwed.”
Meredith presses her face into the chair cushion. “Thanks for the encouragement, Cristina.”
“Just doing my job. And if you need it, I can come by with coffee or throw something at her. Team Grey has your back.”
Meredith can’t help the small laugh that escapes. “Fine. But only if it’s coffee first.”
She sits there a moment longer, taking a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. Somewhere down the hall, the faint click of heels echoes — precise, commanding, unmistakable — and Meredith’s stomach tightens.
Not yet, she tells herself. Not yet. I can do this. Maybe.
The OR smells like antiseptic and metal, the kind of smell that makes Addison’s nerves tingle with anticipation. Her gloves snap into place. She adjusts her mask and leans over the patient, Tova, perfectly prepped and calm under anesthesia.
Levi fumbles with the instruments, eyes wide as saucers. Jo is calm, organized, a reassuring presence at her side, but Addison can sense the tension radiating off both of them.
Okay, Addison, she thinks. You got this. Just don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up.
The patient’s vitals are steady. Her heartbeat echoes softly in the monitors. Addison takes a breath, scanning the OR with precise, clinical focus. She doesn’t need nerves, doesn’t need hesitation , she just needs control.
Focus. Don’t think about Meredith. Don’t think about the hallway. Don’t think about that ridiculous moment with the interns. You are Addison Montgomery. You can do this.
Levi hands her the scalpel with trembling hands. She gives him a pointed look.
“Steady,” she mutters. “You’re not chopping onions here, Schmitt. Focus.”
He nods, mortified, gripping the scalpel like it’s a live grenade.
Jo passes her the retractors with a soft, steady smile. Addison shoots her a quick nod. Good. At least someone’s not panicking.
The incision is clean, precise. The familiar rhythm of the OR takes over the hum of the suction, the soft beeping of monitors, the whisper of gloves against skin. Addison moves with practiced grace, every motion controlled, deliberate.
You cannot screw this up. You. Cannot. Screw. This. Up.
She glances at Levi, who fumbles again, and mutters under her breath:
“Jesus Christ, Schmitt, focus.”
Jo chuckles quietly at her side.
Addison ignores her. Eyes on the patient, hands steady.
Meredith doesn’t need to see me fail. Not now. Not ever.
A tricky spot comes, a vessel that’s thinner than it looks under the glare of the OR lights. Addison’s brow furrows. Her heart hammers, but her hands are calm. Precise. Controlled.
Okay. One clean cut. Don’t panic. Don’t screw this up. Breathe.
The vessel is delicate. She threads the suture with care. Levi watches, wide-eyed, and she nearly laughs. God, I hope Meredith never has to watch me babysit an intern like this. She’d hate it.
“Clamp, please,” she orders, voice low but firm. Jo hands it over, steady. Addison works through the tricky anatomy, cursing softly under her breath whenever her brain goes faster than her hands.
Fucking hell. Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Not now, not here. Focus. Hands steady. Eyes sharp. Brain clear.
The rhythm of the surgery takes her over, every pulse, every cut, every stitch familiar. The panic fades. Control returns. She’s Addison Montgomery, brilliant, precise, unstoppable.
The first stage of the surgery is over. She leans back slightly, glances at Levi and Jo. “Good. So far, you’re alive. That’s a win.”
Levi exhales dramatically. “Alive. Got it.”
Jo smirks. “She’s terrifying.”
Addison smirks back, though inwardly her chest is still tight. One stage done. Don’t fuck up the next. Not today. Not ever.
She adjusts her gloves again, leaning in over Tova, ready for the next step, every muscle tense with control, every thought sharp: This is my OR. I own this. I do not fail.
The rhythm of the OR has been steady, precise, like a heartbeat under control. Until it isn’t.
The lights hum. The monitors beep. And then the temperature rises slowly at first, then fast, oppressive.
Addison wipes her forehead under the mask. “Shit,” she mutters.
Levi fumbles, wide-eyed. “Uh… the AC… it’s—”
Before he can finish, the door opens and Richard Webber steps in, face tense. “Addison. AC’s out. We have to close.”
Addison straightens, eyes blazing with focus. “No. Absolutely not.”
Richard raises his hands. “Addison we cannot continue like this. It’s dangerous.”
She shakes her head, voice sharp but steady, cutting through the heat like a scalpel. “Dangerous? I can handle a bit of heat. The patient is too important to stop now. I will not close.”
Levi stutters. “B-but… Dr Mont”
“I don’t care,” she snaps. She turns to the nurses, voice rising with authority. “Find me a set of hands as experienced in microvascular anastomosis of the abdomen .”
The OR goes quiet, except for the hum of the failing AC and the soft beep of Tova’s monitors.
Then she looks up. Slowly. Calmly. Eyes scanning the room, settling on the gallery where she knows Meredith might be.
“Get me Meredith Grey,” Addison says, voice low, commanding, impossible to ignore.
Levi and Jo exchange glances.
Addison doesn’t break eye contact with the door she expects her former colleague to enter through. “Now,” she repeats.
Richard exhales, a mixture of disbelief and admiration. “You really don’t mess around, do you?”
“I don’t,” Addison says simply, returning to her patient. “We finish this. Perfectly. Or not at all.”
The OR is tense. Sweat drips down foreheads. The heat is stifling. Every pair of eyes in the room knows that Addison Montgomery doesn’t compromise on excellence, and right now, that means Meredith Grey is the only person who can keep this surgery alive and perfect.
Meredith’s phone buzzes on the counter while she’s grading charts, and she nearly drops it when she sees the text:
“911. Need you in OR now. –Addison.”
Her chest tightens, stomach flipping. Oh. Fuck.
She stares at the message, frozen, mind racing. She hasn’t even seen Addison yet — and now she’s being summoned, urgently, into her OR.
Why now? Why me? Calm down. You’re fine. You can do this.
Her thoughts spiral anyway. I haven’t seen her in years. She’s brilliant. She’s terrifying. She’s… Addison. And now I’m supposed to walk into her OR and act… professional? Right. Professional. Friendly. Don’t fuck it up.
She grabs her scrubs like her life depends on it which, in a way, it does. She yanks them on, grabs her mask, and practically sprints through the hospital corridors, every step echoing like a drum in her chest.
By the time she reaches the OR, the heat from the AC failure already presses down, and Addison is standing over Tova, calm, precise, hands steady despite the chaos. Levi and Jo are tense, but Addison’s presence dominates the room.
Addison looks up as Meredith bursts in. For a moment, they just look at each other.
“Meredith,” Addison says, and her voice is low, warm, familiar and professional, but carrying all the weight of their history.
“Addison,” Meredith breathes, trying to steady her voice while rushing to scrub in. “Hi… hi.”
Addison smirks just a little, letting the warmth of recognition settle between them. “Good to see you,” she says simply, eyes softening for the briefest moment. “You’re here.”
Meredith nods, fumbling with her gloves. “Yeah… I’m here. I—uh…” She stops, catches herself, takes a breath, and meets Addison’s gaze. “Let’s… do this. Let’s save Tova.”
“Exactly,” Addison says, her tone smooth, confident. “We do this together. Just like old times, but… better.”
There’s a beat of silence as their hands move over the instruments, side by side, professional, synchronized, yet charged with unspoken history.
Meredith can feel the warmth of Addison’s presence commanding, reassuring, familiar and for the first time in years, it doesn’t terrify her. Not completely.
“Ready?” Addison asks, eyes on Meredith.
Meredith smiles, just a little. “Always.”
They exchange a small, warm nod with no words needed beyond that before turning their full focus to Tova.
For the first time that day, Meredith feels steady. Focused. And even, in some quiet corner of her chest, a little… glad.
The OR is thick with heat and tension, but Addison and Meredith move in a practiced rhythm, synchronized like the patient depends on it because she does. Levi and Jo hover carefully, trying to keep up.
Addison wipes her forehead beneath her mask and glances at Meredith. “You know,” she says, voice low but amused, “I still can’t believe we both ended up nominated for the Catherine Fox Award thisyear. You did take it, didn’t you?”
Meredith’s hands pause briefly. “Yeah. I… did. I didn’t think you’d actually care.”
Addison smirks under her mask. “Of course I care. I care about excellence and I care about you.”
Meredith blushes slightly, trying to focus on the delicate suturing. “Excellence. Right. You always did.”
A beat passes as they move together over the patient. Then Meredith ventures carefully, “You know, sometimes I wonder if the ‘best steps’ for us… are the ones we’re too stubborn to take.”
Addison’s eyes flick up to hers. “Too stubborn to take… or too afraid?”
Meredith shrugs, small smile hidden behind her mask. “Maybe both. I mean… the career ones, the life ones. Sometimes they overlap, sometimes they don’t.”
Addison nods, adjusting a clamp. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that too. About what really matters. You follow the path you’re good at, or the path that… makes you feel alive?”
Meredith’s hands move carefully, threading a delicate suture, thinking about the years since Callie’s baby, the choices she’s made, the losses, the gains. “I guess… you follow both, when you can. And hope you don’t screw up either.”
Addison chuckles softly. “Hope and skill. That’s basically surgery and life in a nutshell.”
Meredith laughs quietly. “Exactly. Except… sometimes hope is scarier than the knife.”
Addison leans slightly closer, voice low, almost conspiratorial. “Well, maybe that’s why it’s better to do it with someone you trust.”
Meredith glances at her, caught by the warmth in Addison’s eyes. “Yeah… trust,” she says, almost a whisper, as they both turn back to Tova.
For a moment, the OR is calm except for the hum of instruments, the monitors, and the quiet rhythm of two people finding a familiar connection again, professional, friendly, and quietly charged with all the history between them.
Addison thinks to herself, I trust her. I always did. Maybe I’ve just been waiting for her to remember it too.
Meredith thinks, It’s weird. It feels… good. And scary. But good.
And for now, that’s enough.
The rhythm of the surgery is steady, almost meditative, until the monitor suddenly beeps sharply. Addison’s eyes snap up.
“Clot,” she mutters under her breath, heart tightening.
Meredith freezes for a split second before her hands move automatically. “Where?”
“Superior mesenteric artery. Small, but fast,” Addison replies, voice calm but tense. “We catch it now, we’re fine. Miss it, it’s bad.”
Levi hovers nervously, unsure where to help. Jo steadies herself beside them, her hands ready.
Addison threads the suture carefully, microvascular precision guiding her fingers. “Clamp, now,” she orders. Meredith slides it into place, steady and sure.
They work together in silence, hands moving in perfect coordination, eyes locked on the delicate vessels. The OR feels impossibly hot, but the focus is absolute.
Come on… come on… Addison mutters under her breath, cursing softly. Not today, not now, not in front of her.
The clot resolves. Blood flow returns to normal. Addison exhales sharply, tension draining out in a slow, shaky breath. Meredith mirrors her relief, but neither lets their guard fully down.
“Good,” Addison says finally, wiping sweat from her brow. “Perfect. That’s what I like to see.”
Meredith allows herself a small smile under the mask. “Not bad, Montgomery.”
Addison smirks. “Not bad, Grey. You didn’t ruin it.”
Levi whispers, wide-eyed: “That… was intense.”
Jo grins. “You got that right.”
Addison leans back slightly, finally relaxed enough to look around the OR. “We’re done. Clean up. Let’s move.”
Moments later, the team scrubs out and steps into the hallway. The cool air of the hospital greets them like a reward. Addison and Meredith walk side by side, their conversation low, easy.
“You okay?” Addison asks quietly.
Meredith nods. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah,” Addison says, with that signature half-smile that can cut or charm in equal measure. “We did good work today.”
Meredith glances at her. “We did.”
The hallway outside the OR buzzes with low chatter. Levi, Jo, and a few of the other residents huddle together, whispering like they’re sharing state secrets.
Xander leans in, voice low but not low enough. “Did you see them in the OR? I swear… they had it out. There was definitely tension.”
Jo nods, trying to look casual but failing. “Yeah. I mean… the way Addison looked at Meredith… and Meredith… Meredith looked like she was about to… I don’t know, swoon or explode or something.”
Another resident pipes up, barely containing excitement. “And when that clot happened? Addison was so intense, but Meredith just… knew what to do. It was… something.”
Levi whispers, eyes wide. “I think they’re… I don’t know. Feels like there’s history. Like… unresolved history.”
Meredith and Addison, exiting the OR after scrubbing out, walk right past the gossiping. Meredith stops mid-step, arching an eyebrow, voice sharp but playful.
“We can hear you,” she says, deadpan.
The interns freeze, eyes widening. Levi stammers. “Uh… we uh… didn’t mean—”
Jo covers his mouth to hide a laugh. “Totally didn’t mean to”
Meredith tilts her head, smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. Keep that up, and maybe you’ll get to assist the next time Addison calls me in for a uterine miracle.”
Levi gulps. “Yes… ma’am.”
Addison, walking beside Meredith, chuckles softly. “Don’t scare them too much,” she says, just low enough for only Meredith to hear.
Meredith rolls her eyes, shaking her head, but can’t hide her smile. “Says the so called ruler of all that is evil.”
The interns watch the two women pass, whispering again, now even more breathless than before. The OR may be over, but the tension is quiet, charged, unspoken and lingers in every hallway conversation.
They reach the elevators. The doors slide open, and for a beat, neither of them moves. It’s just them, side by side, the air thick with heat, adrenaline, and unspoken history.
Addison tilts her head slightly. “Same time tomorrow?”
Meredith laughs softly, more relaxed than she expected. “Yeah. Same time.”
They step into the elevator together, the doors closing on a quiet, shared sense of victory mixed with professional, warm, and just enough intimacy to make the slow burn feel inevitable.
⸻
The elevator doors slide shut, and for the first few seconds, neither Meredith nor Addison speaks.
Then, suddenly, Addison lets out a quiet laugh — low, shaky — and Meredith joins in before long. It’s genuine, relieved, and unguarded, and soon the two of them are double over laughing, the kind of laughter that makes the tight muscles in their shoulders release in waves.
Addison’s hand brushes against Meredith’s, and without thinking, she grabs it, gripping tightly for stability. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, but the laugh dies in her throat as the weight of her emotions hits.
Her knees weaken slightly, and she turns away, leaning against the elevator wall, trying to hide her face.
Meredith’s smile fades instantly, replaced by concern. She reaches for the emergency stop button and presses it, jolting the elevator into stillness.
Addison begins to cry quietly, shoulders trembling. Her voice is barely above a whisper at first.
“I thought coming back here… to Seattle… to Grey Sloan… that, uh… he’d be here,” she chokes out. “That I would be able to feel that he was still here in the city he loved, with the people he loved… but he isn’t. And it’s real. He’s not here. And I’m really sorry I’m doing this in front of you because you’re the one who actually had to go through it.”
Meredith steps closer, voice tender, catching tears in her own eyes. “Addison… he is here. He’s in his children. And they are very real. And I would love for you to come and meet them.”
Addison turns slightly, eyes still glistening with tears. “Meredith…” she begins, voice thick with emotion, “…you’ve never been one to shy away from what you love. So if you believe in this next big thing… fight for it. Richard will understand.”
Her breath comes in ragged gasps, tears still streaking her face. She leans heavily on the wall, shoulders shaking. Meredith reaches out, gently lifting her chin, catching her gaze.
“Addison,” Meredith says, voice tender, cracking slightly, “you don’t have to hold it in here. You’re allowed to feel. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Addison takes a shuddering breath, letting herself be supported. Slowly, her tears start to subside, but her hands remain in Meredith’s, fingers entwined, holding on as if letting go would make the grief spill all over again.
Finally, she straightens slightly, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. She hits the button to restart the elevator, voice small but steadier.
Meredith steps forward and wraps her in a long, protective hug, arms tight around Addison’s trembling frame. Addison leans into her fully, forehead resting against Meredith’s , allowing herself to feel, to grieve, to be comforted to be human again.
The elevator hums softly around them, the weight of their shared history, grief, and unspoken connection settling into something quiet and sacred. Addison breathes into Meredith’s shoulder, whispering, “Thank you… for letting me lean.”
Meredith chuckles softly, tears glistening in her eyes. “Always. Always.”
And for a long, suspended moment, they simply hold each other two women who have weathered loss, distance, and time finding solace in the one person who understands the depth of what they’ve both survived.
Meredith leans against her office door, phone pressed to her ear as Addison slips past to find Amelia. “You know,” Meredith begins, voice trembling despite her best attempt at calm, “I—uh—I invited her over for dinner. Like… tonight.”
Cristina’s laugh is sharp and teasing. “Oh, of course you did. That’s totally normal. Meredith Grey inviting Addison Montgomery into her house… no big deal.”
Meredith groans, running a hand through her hair. “Cristina, it’s not normal. It’s—ugh—it’s terrifying. I mean, what if she talks about the elevator? What if she knows what I felt when she was crying? Something’s… something isn’t right with her, maybe it’s because we’re older?Now I’m supposed to cook. Cook, Cristina.”
Cristina hums knowingly. “Ah, yes. Panic cooking. Classic. So… what’s your plan? Burn the pasta? Set off the smoke alarm? Also what are you talking about with the elevator?”
Meredith laughs despite herself. “I—no! I mean, I’m going to try to make it perfect. But she’s Addison Montgomery. She’s Addison Montgomery. And I—ugh! I’ll tell you elevator stuff later” She groans, running out of her office toward the door.
She grabs her keys and purse, tossing her scrubs into a laundry bag. “I’m going to the grocery store. I need… vegetables. Maybe chicken. Maybe… just wine. I think she likes red wine. I need tequila but I am actively trying to prove I am a grown up so maybe wine will have to do.”
Cristina sighs, clearly enjoying herself. “Relax, Mer. You’ll survive. Maybe don’t set the house on fire.”
“Cristina, I have to! I have to make this perfect!” Meredith huffs as she pulls out of the parking lot.
By the time she’s back at home from picking up the kids , Meredith is already panicked and multitasking. She’s juggling a grocery bag in one hand and her phone in the other, talking to Cristina.
“Zola, Bailey, Ellis! Shoes! Snacks! Wash your hands!” she calls, hustling her kids into the kitchen.
Cristina laughs on the phone. “Oh, I see how it is. Full-on domestic terror mode. Classic Meredith.”
“I—Cristina, you don’t understand,” Meredith says, trying to corral her kids while unpacking groceries. “Addison’s coming over. And I can’t have my house looking… messy. And I have to cook. And I have to—ugh!”
By the time the kids are fed, backpacks stored, and homework halfway done, Meredith has embarked on a stress cleaning spree: wiping counters, fluffing pillows, organizing the living room, checking the bathroom three times, and making sure there’s not a single misplaced sock in sight.
Okay, Meredith, calm down, she mutters to herself, spraying disinfectant on the countertop. She’s Addison. She’s not a judge. She’s… okay. She’s… amazing. But she’s coming over. You can do this.
The house sparkles under the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Meredith steps back, wiping sweat from her brow. She’s exhausted, panicked, and oddly exhilarated all at once.
Then she checks her phone again. Addison has texted Amelia, presumably making plans. Meredith swallows hard, taking a deep breath. Tonight, her carefully cleaned, stress-perfect house will host Addison Montgomery.
And Meredith… she doesn’t know if she’s ready for that.
Meredith is juggling a sink full of dishes when she hears a familiar ringtone blaring from… nowhere.
“Ellis! What are you doing?!” Meredith spins around just in time to see her 7 year old holding her phone, proudly pressing buttons.
Before she can stop it, Ellis has somehow called Amelia on video call.
“Meredith?” Amelia’s voice comes cheerfully through the speaker. “Are you—?”
“ELLIS!” Meredith shouts, eyes wide, lunging for the phone. Ellis squeals in delight, holding it up like a trophy.
“Ice… cream! Aunty Amy ” Ellis shouts into the phone, giggling uncontrollably.
Amelia laughs, glancing at Addison in the passenger seat. “Addison… you’re not going to believe this. Meredith’s little one just called me… on video. And apparently wants ice cream right now.”
Addison raises an eyebrow, lips twitching in amusement. “On video? That’s… kind of adorable.”
Meredith finally wrestles the phone away from Ellis, holding it tightly. “Ellis! No! Don’t—ugh!” She turns back to Amelia, still on call. “I’m… I’m sorry. I—uh… I’m stressed, okay? Addison’s coming over and I don’t even know how to—”
Her words stop mid-sentence as she glances up and realizes Addison is still in the car, hearing everything.
Addison’s amused, slightly raised eyebrow meets Meredith’s panicked gaze. Meredith freezes, cheeks flushing red. “I—uh… what I meant is… I’m fine. Totally fine. Perfectly fine. Ignore everything you just—”
Amelia snickers from the car. “Meredith, you just stressed me out on speakerphone. And Ellis is adorable.”
Ellis claps her hands and giggles, oblivious to the chaos she caused.
Addison smirks, voice calm but teasing. “I hear everything, Grey. You’re very… stressed about me.”
Meredith groans, gripping the phone tighter, wishing the ground would swallow her whole. “Maybe a little,” she mutters under her breath, while Ellis squeals with delight and Amelia laughs uncontrollably.
Addison tilts her head, still smiling, clearly entertained. Meredith mutters again, flustered: “Fine! I’m stressed! Happy now?”
Addison chuckles, leaning back in her seat. “Perfectly clear. But somehow… I like it.”
Ellis squeals again, and Meredith buries her face in her hands, muttering, “This is going to be a very long dinner…”
The smell of roasted vegetables and lemon chicken fills Meredith’s kitchen. The place is spotless , unnervingly spotless which, for Meredith Grey, can only mean one thing, she’s panicking. She’s just finishing setting the table when the door opens.
From the hallway, she hears Amelia’s bright voice “We’re here! Come meet somebody, guys!”
Meredith wipes her hands on a towel, heart thudding. Okay. Breathe. It’s fine. Totally fine.
Addison steps into view behind Amelia, her usual polished confidence softened by something almost… nervous. She hesitates in the doorway, offering a small but genuine smile. “Hi.”
Meredith’s heart does a strange, traitorous flip.
“Hey,” she says, managing to sound casual almost. She shifts Ellis higher on her hip. “So this is Zola, Bailey, and Ellis. I’m holding her because little miss had a meltdown about five minutes ago over not getting her ice cream.”
Zola and Bailey appear from the living room, both curious and polite.
“Hi,” they chime in almost in unison, shy but curious.
“Hi,” Addison says warmly, crouching slightly, her voice bright and soft all at once. She glances up briefly at Meredith something unreadable flickers between them then back to the kids.
Bailey studies her for a long moment before tilting his head. “Were you Daddy’s friend?”
The air stills. Meredith freezes mid-step. Amelia looks down at her shoes.
Addison’s expression falters, but she quickly steadies it, crouching so she’s eye-level with Bailey. “I was, yes,” she says softly, smiling through the slight quiver in her voice. “I’m Addison but he…He called me Addie.”
There’s a brief, tender silence. Meredith watches, throat tightening. Addison’s eyes shine with emotion nostalgia, loss, and something gentler.
Then Ellis, still clutching her toy spoon, toddles forward with the fearless sincerity only a child can manage. “Want some ice cream, Addie?” she asks, her voice high and sweet.
Addison’s lips part, surprise and warmth flooding her expression. She nods quickly, blinking away the emotion that threatens to spill. “I would… I would love that, thank you.”
Ellis beams, taking Addison’s hand and leading her over to the dining table like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh wow, look at this!” Addison says as Ellis proudly presents the bowl of ice cream in front of her. “Is this rainbow sherbet?”
Zola grins, hopping onto a chair. “Yup! And everything’s rainbow even the sprinkles!”
Addison laughs softly, genuinely the kind of laugh that starts in the chest and lifts the whole room with it.
Amelia shoots Meredith a knowing smile, quietly mouthing “told you this would be good.” Meredith rolls her eyes but can’t stop smiling as she sets Ellis in her booster seat and brings over plates.
A few minutes later, they’re all seated, Amelia across from the kids, Addison beside Meredith at the long farmhouse table. The conversation flows easily, the kids animatedly talking about school and Ellis’s “very big feelings about dessert.” Addison listens intently, laughing at all the right moments, her nervousness melting away with each story. She sort of wishes Henry was there, he would love this.
At one point, Addison turns toward Meredith, their elbows brushing lightly. Meredith glances sideways, and for a fleeting second, their eyes meet soft, familiar, grounding.
Addison smiles. “Well done, Meredith.”
Meredith looks down for a second, then back up, her voice quiet and hesitant . “Yeah?,” she says softly. “Thank you.”
The kids’ chatter fills the air again, and Meredith and Addison just sit there side by side sharing a quiet, unspoken peace neither of them expected to find tonight.
The dinner plates are half-cleared, the kids’ laughter fading into soft hums from the living room. Amelia has just finished a story that made Zola giggle so hard she snorted juice through her nose, and now she’s carrying Ellis upstairs, promising “one story and then bed.”
Addison helps gather the dishes, stacking them neatly in the sink. She looks perfectly put together, as always but there’s a faint weariness in her movements. Meredith notices it in the way her shoulders slump ever so slightly, in the distant way she stares at the soapy water before washing the first plate.
Meredith leans against the counter, towel in hand, studying her quietly for a moment. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” she says softly.
Addison glances up, smirking faintly. “You cooked. I can wash. It’s called balance, Grey.”
Meredith chuckles, taking a sip of wine before setting the glass down. “You seem… okay,” she says after a pause. “Better than earlier, I mean.…”
Addison’s hands still in the water for a moment. The sound of running water fills the silence between them. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her voice low. “About that… sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. I just… hadn’t expected it to hit me the way it did.”
Meredith shakes her head quickly. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to fall apart. We all do.”
Addison gives a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Not like that. Not in an elevator in front of you. I’m supposed to be the composed one, remember? The redhead who glides in with confidence and leaves chaos in her wake.”
“You did leave chaos,” Meredith teases gently, “but you also helped fix a patient when the A/C was down and half the hospital was melting.”
Addison smiles faintly, eyes warm with gratitude. “You’ve gotten good at that, you know.”
“What, sarcasm?” Meredith asks with a smirk.
Addison shakes her head, turning to face her fully. “Comforting people. You always had it in you, but now… it feels different. You’ve softened.”
Meredith blinks, surprised by the honesty. She shrugs, trying to keep her tone light. “Maybe nearly dying from COVID does that to a person.”
Addison’s expression immediately shifts her hands stop moving, her brow creases. “I heard,” she says softly. “I wanted to call. I didn’t know if I should. You were… you were really bad, I didn’t know how to approach without breaking”
Meredith leans against the counter beside her, voice steady but quiet. “Yeah. I was. I don’t remember most of it, honestly. Just flashes. The beach.”
Addison nods slowly, the mention of the beach hanging heavy between them, both knowing exactly what that meant.
Meredith’s eyes flick toward her, a faint, knowing smile ghosting across her face.
Addison exhales, her shoulders loosening slightly. “You look good, though. Strong. Like you came out the other side of something impossible.”
Meredith tilts her head. “You sound like you’re still walking through something impossible.”
Addison smiles sadly, drying her hands with a towel. “Yeah, maybe. I think I just… didn’t realize how much Seattle still held for me. It’s like every hallway, every elevator… every laugh reminds me of something i lost after leaving, something i could have had.”
Meredith’s tone softens. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know. Stay here while you’re in town. The house has space. The kids would love it. Ellis already calls you Addie, which pretty much means you’re family now.”
Addison looks genuinely taken aback. “Meredith, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Meredith says, cutting her off gently but firmly. “Hotels are lonely. This house… isn’t. And you shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Addison stares at her for a long moment, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes. “You sure?”
Meredith nods, a soft smile pulling at her lips. “I’m sure.”
Addison exhales a small, shaky laugh. “You’ve changed, Grey.”
Meredith shrugs, picking up a dish towel and bumping her shoulder lightly against Addison’s. “Maybe. Or maybe I just learned how to let people stay.”
They share a quiet smile, one that carries a thousand unspoken words.
From the hallway, Amelia’s voice drifts down “If either of you cleans another dish, I swear you’re both control freaks.”
Meredith rolls her eyes; Addison laughs. The tension breaks, but the warmth lingers — a quiet comfort settling between them like something fragile but healing.
By the time Amelia’s pager starts buzzing, the dishes are stacked, the kids are asleep, and the house has fallen into that peaceful hum that only happens late at night.
Amelia groans, checking her phone. “Damn it, that’s the on-call team. Someone just crashed post-op.”
Meredith sighs. “You sure you don’t want to pretend you didn’t see that?”
Amelia smirks, grabbing her jacket. “Tempting, but no. Some of us still have to save lives tonight.” She points at Meredith and Addison as she backs toward the door. “You two behave. No hospital talk. No late-night surgeries. And for God’s sake, Meredith, try to relax.”
The door clicks shut behind her, leaving an unexpected silence.
Meredith turns to Addison. “Well… I guess it’s just us now.”
Addison smiles lightly, a little uncertain but sincere. “Looks that way.”
A few minutes later, they’ve both changed, Meredith in an old Dartmouth T-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, Addison in soft grey satin that looks too elegant for a casual night in but somehow still comfortable on her. They meet in the living room, the glow from the lamp warm and gentle, the distant hum of the dishwasher filling the silence.
Meredith pours two glasses of wine and hands one over, but Addison hesitates. She smiles politely, shaking her head. “Oh no, thank you.”
Meredith blinks, surprised, but doesn’t press. “Water okay?”
“Perfect.”
They settle on the couch, legs tucked under them, an old movie playing low on the TV, something neither of them are really watching.
For a while, they just sit in companionable silence. The kind of silence that feels earned not awkward, just full of unspoken things.
Meredith sips her wine, studying Addison out of the corner of her eye. She looks softer like this hair down, barefoot, the edge of her confidence replaced by something human, vulnerable. But her hands are restless, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.
After a few minutes, Meredith breaks the quiet. “You didn’t mention how long you’re in Seattle for.”
Addison sighs, leaning back against the couch. “A couple of days, maybe. Depends on the patient . I may need to be back and forth a lot .”
Meredith nods, watching her. “That sounds exhausting.”
Addison laughs softly. “It is. But it’s worth it. My son’s at school in L.A. so when I’m not working, I’m basically a full-time chauffeur, chef, therapist, and stand-in best friend.”
Meredith smiles. “Sounds familiar.”
“Yeah,” Addison says, eyes softening. “Henry’s ten now. He’s… God, he’s everything. Brilliant, sarcastic, dramatic , definitely his mother’s child. He tells me my job is gross, that I should’ve picked something cool, like being an astronaut.”
Meredith laughs quietly, her voice warm. “He sounds perfect.”
“He is,” Addison says, a fond, wistful smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t think I’d be the kind of person who could… love someone that much. But he made me softer, better. I used to think the work was the thing that would define me. Turns out it’s him.”
Meredith leans back, her tone gentle. “He’s lucky to have you.”
Addison glances at her, something flickering behind her eyes, gratitude, affection, maybe even relief. “Thanks. You know, you used to terrify me,” she admits with a teasing grin.
Meredith raises an eyebrow. “I did not.”
“Oh, please,” Addison says, chuckling. “You were this… storm. All sharp intellect and impossible standards. Derek was just the middleman.”
Meredith smirks. “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever called him that.”
They both laugh real laughter this time. It’s warm and easy, and when it fades, they fall into a comfortable quiet again.
On the coffee table, the movie drones on, forgotten. Meredith leans against the arm of the couch, swirling what’s left of her wine. “You can stay as long as you need, you know. The guest room’s yours. I meant it.”
Addison hesitates, looking at her really looking. “I might take you up on that.”
“Good,” Meredith says softly, smiling over the rim of her glass. “It’s nice having you here.”
Addison nods, her voice low. “It’s nice being here.”
The moment lingers, quiet, still, threaded with something deeper than nostalgia.
Outside, the cicadas hum through the heat of the night. Inside, the two women sit shoulder to shoulder, the glow of the television soft on their faces, two old friends, finally finding peace in each other’s company.