Fic: Look inside and see what's on my mind... (for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
help_haiti)
Feb. 21st, 2010 03:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
waltzmatildahTitle: Look inside and see what's on my mind...
Characters/Pairings: Alex/Addison
Word Count: 2600
Rating: R (for implied sexy times).
Spoilers: None really. This is all a what if for the future... Although, there is a SLIGHT spoilerish moment for ep. 6.19 at the very end.
Summary: Alex and Addison bond over common ground. Set twelve months after the Season 6 premiere.
Author's Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
addikat for the help_haiti auction. OMG, sorry this is sooo late. Epic fail! Also, I've kind of left the ending open in case inspiration should strike and I (or someone else, hint hint) feel like continuing this.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
“Let me guess... there's a case...” he inquires dryly, eyebrow cocked, smirk firmly in place.
“There's always a case, Karev...” Addison sighs, slumping heavily onto the stool next to him. The lure of a familiar face had been too much to resist, had had her relinquishing the cushioned seating of the booth she'd occupied alone for the past hour to trade blows with her former intern and occasional on-call room hook up.
She allows herself six brief seconds of recollection before gathering her thoughts and shoving all images of the well defined shoulder she's now pressed up against far, far from her mind.
Mostly.
“Sloan or Shepherd?” He doesn't expand on the statement and she doesn't need him to.
“Both...” she admits.
“Do you ever... do you ever tell yourself that the next time they call, the next time they expect you to drop everything in a flash and run to their rescue, that you'll just tell them to go jump?”
“Every time...” she nods, enthusiastically, keen to assert her authority.
“Do you mean it?”
“Every time...” She continues the nodding, defiant in her stance.
“Does it ever work?”
“Not once,” she concedes finally, raising her wine glass to her lips, unable and unwilling to enter into the self examination that that admittance requires.
“Huh.”
“So,” Addison leans back and points her chin in the vague direction of where the trailer used to stand all those miles away, “I heard there was some sort of gathering at the Shepherd/Grey house of un-holy horrors tonight, why aren't you there?”
“Because I'm on call?”
His answer is more like a question, the inflection slightly heightened at the end.
“Really?” She doesn't believe him.
“No.”
“Not in the mood for a party?”
He raises one eyebrow in her direction, the are you serious is implied but understood nonetheless.
“Ooookay... I guess not. Lucky me then.”
“Lucky you?”
“Mmm hmm, lucky me, because now I don't have to look like a complete loser when I order another bottle of wine...”
“Oh, really? You think my presence cancels out your loser-ness? Man, you have been gone from here for waaay too long. My presence at least doubles your loser-ness... maybe even triples it...”
“I don't believe that, not for a second... for starters, I hear you're seriously considering paediatrics?”
“Ha...” Alex laughs, genuinely, honestly, “... apparently that's a one-way ticket to loser-ville right there... although it's not the do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars kind of ticket that the vagina squad would have been...”
“They're just jealous,” she offers, insincerely though because she knows Yang and she knows Grey and she knows that both consider paediatric surgeons only slightly above veterinarians. There's no way either doctor would be jealous. She hopes Alex appreciates the sentiment nonetheless.
Addison shakes her head slowly and smiles into the wide rim of her wine glass. It's good to know that while it seems like everything has changed at lightening speed, some things have stayed achingly the same.
“So, what's the party in aid of anyway?” Addison is genuinely curious, even Callie has ditched her for the evening to attend with Arizona. The clunk of Alex's glass colliding with the bar top tells her that the party is not something he really wants to talk about. She'd probably feel a little guilty for raising the issue a second time if she hadn't already ploughed her way through one bottle of white.
“Apparently post-it weddings have anniversaries too...”
“Oh... right...” She downs the remaining third of her glass, wishing suddenly that she hadn't bothered to ask.
“You know... by tomorrow it'll have been a whole freakin' year...”
“Since the post-it wedding?”
“Well, yeah... but not just that... O'Malley... and Izzie... and...” He trails off, not looking at her and the heavy pull of realisation sinks low in Addison's gut.
“But...” Addison struggles to form a meaningful sentence, something to smooth over a wave of desperation and loneliness so palpable she can almost taste it radiating off him. It's on the tip of her tongue to ask him about Stevens. Does he know where she is? Is she working? Is she still in remission? She sighs slowly and settles for the lesser of two evils... “Poor old George, hey? To be honest I still can't quite believe it, I mean...”
She trails off as Alex lays his palms flat on the textured bar runner, bracing himself against it in a way she assumes is meant to stop him from punching something... or someone... maybe her, if she doesn't shut up.
“Sorry...” she mumbles at a whisper, not at all convinced that he even registers her apology.
He stands abruptly and scrubs the palm of one hand down his face, she can hear his skin drag through rough stubble, has to physically stop herself from reaching out to touch him.
She's fairly certain that the wine is starting to do her thinking for her. She absolutely hates that she doesn't even care.
Like she's already reconciled, some things never change...
She allows her gaze to follow his back as he retreats towards the bathroom, traces the curve of his shoulders with her eyes and tries to ignore the familiar echo she hears, laughing about barbecuing and baseball and lines of deliciousness.
--
“So, you and Little Grey, hey?”
The end up back at his place, a basic one bedroom apartment not too far from the hospital. For reasons she can't quite elucidate, she's glad they're not at the hotel. It feels less clandestine, more like old friends catching up than the no strings attached fuck it's inevitably spiralling into.
They can both fool themselves deep into this.
“Excuse me?” he frowns, trying and failing to hide his affront.
“Little Grey, I heard she...you know,” Addison gestures vaguely in his direction with her left hand, as though the appendage itself holds all the answers, “... and you...”
“Yeah, well apparently it was only because you and Sloan...” he retorts bitterly and with a condescending mimic of her hand flapping.
“Yeah...” she concedes with a nod, “I heard that, too...”
“Lexipedia did alright outta it though, have you heard she's shacking up with Harper Avery's kid now?”
“Jackson?” she inquires and Alex confirms with a nod, “I met him today, he's helping with the Wylie baby, seems nice...”
Alex snorts and rolls his eyes, “Girls are so predictable...”
“What's that supposed to mean?” she bites, tries to hide the secret pleasure she takes in being referred to as a girl.
“It means that the guy's a jackass, but your xx chromosomes mean you can't see past the...” he trails off, unwilling to form the words.
“The what...?” Addison goads with a grin.
“You know...” he argues.
“Oh, you mean the eyes, and the ass, and the smile... we can't see past those? Ha, you should know...”
She makes her move then, empowered by the wine and the proximity and the nature of the conversation they've just had. He groans a little, deep in the back of his throat, like a release of sorts, and the heady realisation that he's been wanting this just as much as she has is all the incentive needed.
It's rough, but controlled. Nothing is broken, nobody screams, not out loud anyway. It's everything and nothing like the last time. The first time.
In the aftermath, when he falls asleep with his mouth slightly parted, panting soft alcohol flavoured air onto her exposed shoulder, Addison fights the urge to flee. Ambient light seeps through skewed curtains, providing just enough illumination that she thinks she could probably escape without waking him.
She figures that so many people have up and left him in the middle of the night, both literally and figuratively.
Will he even notice one more?
Against her better judgment, she stays. She can see the surprise, a poor attempt to hide it failing dismally, when he wakes the next morning, he'd been expecting it too. The disappearing act that never came.
“You're still here...” he murmurs, voice rough, echoing through her chest, incredulous.
“Yeah...still here...” she breathes, nodding slowly, feeling the pull of her hair, trapped tightly beneath him.
“Good,” he sighs, the word trailing off as his eyelids slide closed once more, beating a tactical retreat back into slumber.
--
Addison hears the rumours long before she sees the evidence for herself. He hadn't wanted to come in to the hospital at all, masking his terror behind a sarcastic scoff of morbid memorials and people who want to remember when all he wants to do is freaking forget it all.
She probably should have known then, over burnt coffee and cold toast and bitter words spat with no real conviction.
She steps through the exam room curtain with a certain degree of trepidation. They haven't seen each other since they parted ways at his front door hours earlier. It would seem that so much has changed in the interim.
“So, the rumours are true then?”
He's perched on the edge of the bed, feet dangling inches above the floor, swinging slightly. His right arm is casted and slung across his chest, three dark sutures have closed the bruised and bleeding flesh above his right eyebrow. His posture shifts at her words and he makes a move to stand.
She dissuades him with gentle shove that shocks him more than anything else.
“Oh, yeah? Which rumour is that? The one where I attacked the bastard with a bedpan or the one where he tried to kill me with the defib. paddles?” His voice is tight, edgy, and Addison is wary of pushing him too far, despite the fact that she fears that line was broken hours ago.
“Defib. paddles? Really? Haven't heard that one. My personal favourite is the one where he had an intern as a hostage and you kung fu'd him into unconsciousness with your Jackie Chan moves. Didn't know you knew kung fu...” she finishes with a tentative grin.
He scrubs his left hand across his face, wincing as his fingers graze a little too close to the sutures.
“I'm a fucking idiot...” he sighs and Addison is relieved that he at least has the sense to admit it.
“Yeah,” she agrees, “Yeah you are... is it broken?”
He laughs and nods, even though nothing about this situation is remotely humourous. “Only in about three and a half places...”
“Jesus, Karev.”
“I know, I know. Torres is convinced it needs surgery.”
“And you're not? You and your vast orthopeadic surgery experience?” She tries to hide the sarcasm and fails as Alex shrugs a half hearted response.
“It's been broken before, it'll heal...”
“Karev, you're a surgeon, you're mostly an idiot,” she interjects, “but you're also a surgeon, do you really-”
“I know, okay. I know... I just need...” the sentence trails off, like he's lost for words, “I just need a minute to figure all this out...”
“Okay,” she nods, more than familiar with that feeling herself, the feeling that your life is passing you by at warp speed and that everyone but you seems to know what the hell is going on. “Okay, take a few minutes...” She risks touching him, raising her fingers to his hair. His eyes remain resolutely focused on his lap but he doesn't object and he doesn't pull away.
Addison has no idea what to read into that.
--
Two days later the Wylie baby is transferred from NICU and Alex is released from hospital following surgery to insert a plate and half a dozen screws into his right forearm. Addison still has a hard time believing that he ever thought he could escape Callie and her surgical screwdriver.
He's leaned back against the wall of the hospital as she exits the building for the last time, for now anyway. He appears to be waiting for something, or maybe someone, but she knows Grey and Yang are still inside so she has no idea who.
“You off?” he questions, and she tries to talk herself out of the disappointment she's sure she detects.
“Yup. Arizona can handle it from here and Doctor Avery is good at what he does, no matter what you think about his ass...”
“Hey, I don't think anything about his ass, thank you very much!”
“Well, if that's true, you sure are in the minority as far as Seattle Grace employees go,” she laughs, watching him closely, using the relaxed banter to size him up.
“Well...” He shifts awkwardly, tries to hide a wince behind false bravado and a fleeting grin that doesn't even get close to his eyes, “have a good-”
“Come back with me.” The words are out before she really has a chance to think about what could possibly happen next, and in the split second between her mouth closing and his opening she flashes back to a time when he was more than happy to shoot her down.
You're not my girlfriend...
“What?”
“Come back with me, to LA...”
“To Los Angeles, LA?” It's not a rejection. Not yet anyway.
“Yes, to Los Angeles, LA. Is there more than one? You can't work anyway. Make the most of it. Come be a dorky tourist for a week or so... just, I don't know... get away from here. Go somewhere that isn't here for a while... do something that isn't this” She gestures expansively to the hospital looming behind them, to Joe's in the foreground, to every achingly familiar landmark in sight.
“I've never been to Los Angeles...” he admits, and it's still not a rejection and the absurd swell of hope in her gut makes Addison want to slap herself for being so pathetic.
“So come then, you'll love it.”
He raises an eyebrow dubiously in her direction, “Okay, so maybe not love, but it's not that bad if you avoid all the touristy places-”
“But you just told me I could be a dorky tourist,” he cuts in, teasing her.
“Yeah, you can be, just not in the places where there are other dorky tourists...”
He bends to collect the backpack slung casually at his feet and by the time he looks up Addison already knows what's coming.
“Thanks for the invite and for everything else you've done these past couple of days,” he begins and Addison is somewhat comforted by the apparent sincerity in his words, “but I can't right now...” He nods out towards the traffic and Addison watches as a Ford Ranger that's seen better days than today jerks to a clumsy halt at the curb.
She nods as he pulls away from the wall. “Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me...”
He nods back before grinning over her shoulder and Addison follows his line of sight to the male that's just stepped out from behind the driver's door.
“Who's the chauffeur?” she inquires with more than a touch of admiration and is shocked when Alex sputters out a disbelieving laugh.
“The chauffeur is my brother, Aaron. And he'd kick your ass for calling him anything even remotely French sounding...”
“Your brother...” she nods, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, before adding a soft huh figures under her breath.
“Hey, Addison.” She turns back reluctantly to see that he's stopped about half way between her and the car. “He's only here for a few days, a week tops. Maybe... after that...?”
“Yeah, Karev,” she concedes with a nod, “maybe after that...”
Characters/Pairings: Alex/Addison
Word Count: 2600
Rating: R (for implied sexy times).
Spoilers: None really. This is all a what if for the future... Although, there is a SLIGHT spoilerish moment for ep. 6.19 at the very end.
Summary: Alex and Addison bond over common ground. Set twelve months after the Season 6 premiere.
Author's Note: Written for
addikat for the help_haiti auction. OMG, sorry this is sooo late. Epic fail! Also, I've kind of left the ending open in case inspiration should strike and I (or someone else, hint hint) feel like continuing this.Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
“Let me guess... there's a case...” he inquires dryly, eyebrow cocked, smirk firmly in place.
“There's always a case, Karev...” Addison sighs, slumping heavily onto the stool next to him. The lure of a familiar face had been too much to resist, had had her relinquishing the cushioned seating of the booth she'd occupied alone for the past hour to trade blows with her former intern and occasional on-call room hook up.
She allows herself six brief seconds of recollection before gathering her thoughts and shoving all images of the well defined shoulder she's now pressed up against far, far from her mind.
Mostly.
“Sloan or Shepherd?” He doesn't expand on the statement and she doesn't need him to.
“Both...” she admits.
“Do you ever... do you ever tell yourself that the next time they call, the next time they expect you to drop everything in a flash and run to their rescue, that you'll just tell them to go jump?”
“Every time...” she nods, enthusiastically, keen to assert her authority.
“Do you mean it?”
“Every time...” She continues the nodding, defiant in her stance.
“Does it ever work?”
“Not once,” she concedes finally, raising her wine glass to her lips, unable and unwilling to enter into the self examination that that admittance requires.
“Huh.”
“So,” Addison leans back and points her chin in the vague direction of where the trailer used to stand all those miles away, “I heard there was some sort of gathering at the Shepherd/Grey house of un-holy horrors tonight, why aren't you there?”
“Because I'm on call?”
His answer is more like a question, the inflection slightly heightened at the end.
“Really?” She doesn't believe him.
“No.”
“Not in the mood for a party?”
He raises one eyebrow in her direction, the are you serious is implied but understood nonetheless.
“Ooookay... I guess not. Lucky me then.”
“Lucky you?”
“Mmm hmm, lucky me, because now I don't have to look like a complete loser when I order another bottle of wine...”
“Oh, really? You think my presence cancels out your loser-ness? Man, you have been gone from here for waaay too long. My presence at least doubles your loser-ness... maybe even triples it...”
“I don't believe that, not for a second... for starters, I hear you're seriously considering paediatrics?”
“Ha...” Alex laughs, genuinely, honestly, “... apparently that's a one-way ticket to loser-ville right there... although it's not the do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars kind of ticket that the vagina squad would have been...”
“They're just jealous,” she offers, insincerely though because she knows Yang and she knows Grey and she knows that both consider paediatric surgeons only slightly above veterinarians. There's no way either doctor would be jealous. She hopes Alex appreciates the sentiment nonetheless.
Addison shakes her head slowly and smiles into the wide rim of her wine glass. It's good to know that while it seems like everything has changed at lightening speed, some things have stayed achingly the same.
“So, what's the party in aid of anyway?” Addison is genuinely curious, even Callie has ditched her for the evening to attend with Arizona. The clunk of Alex's glass colliding with the bar top tells her that the party is not something he really wants to talk about. She'd probably feel a little guilty for raising the issue a second time if she hadn't already ploughed her way through one bottle of white.
“Apparently post-it weddings have anniversaries too...”
“Oh... right...” She downs the remaining third of her glass, wishing suddenly that she hadn't bothered to ask.
“You know... by tomorrow it'll have been a whole freakin' year...”
“Since the post-it wedding?”
“Well, yeah... but not just that... O'Malley... and Izzie... and...” He trails off, not looking at her and the heavy pull of realisation sinks low in Addison's gut.
“But...” Addison struggles to form a meaningful sentence, something to smooth over a wave of desperation and loneliness so palpable she can almost taste it radiating off him. It's on the tip of her tongue to ask him about Stevens. Does he know where she is? Is she working? Is she still in remission? She sighs slowly and settles for the lesser of two evils... “Poor old George, hey? To be honest I still can't quite believe it, I mean...”
She trails off as Alex lays his palms flat on the textured bar runner, bracing himself against it in a way she assumes is meant to stop him from punching something... or someone... maybe her, if she doesn't shut up.
“Sorry...” she mumbles at a whisper, not at all convinced that he even registers her apology.
He stands abruptly and scrubs the palm of one hand down his face, she can hear his skin drag through rough stubble, has to physically stop herself from reaching out to touch him.
She's fairly certain that the wine is starting to do her thinking for her. She absolutely hates that she doesn't even care.
Like she's already reconciled, some things never change...
She allows her gaze to follow his back as he retreats towards the bathroom, traces the curve of his shoulders with her eyes and tries to ignore the familiar echo she hears, laughing about barbecuing and baseball and lines of deliciousness.
--
“So, you and Little Grey, hey?”
The end up back at his place, a basic one bedroom apartment not too far from the hospital. For reasons she can't quite elucidate, she's glad they're not at the hotel. It feels less clandestine, more like old friends catching up than the no strings attached fuck it's inevitably spiralling into.
They can both fool themselves deep into this.
“Excuse me?” he frowns, trying and failing to hide his affront.
“Little Grey, I heard she...you know,” Addison gestures vaguely in his direction with her left hand, as though the appendage itself holds all the answers, “... and you...”
“Yeah, well apparently it was only because you and Sloan...” he retorts bitterly and with a condescending mimic of her hand flapping.
“Yeah...” she concedes with a nod, “I heard that, too...”
“Lexipedia did alright outta it though, have you heard she's shacking up with Harper Avery's kid now?”
“Jackson?” she inquires and Alex confirms with a nod, “I met him today, he's helping with the Wylie baby, seems nice...”
Alex snorts and rolls his eyes, “Girls are so predictable...”
“What's that supposed to mean?” she bites, tries to hide the secret pleasure she takes in being referred to as a girl.
“It means that the guy's a jackass, but your xx chromosomes mean you can't see past the...” he trails off, unwilling to form the words.
“The what...?” Addison goads with a grin.
“You know...” he argues.
“Oh, you mean the eyes, and the ass, and the smile... we can't see past those? Ha, you should know...”
She makes her move then, empowered by the wine and the proximity and the nature of the conversation they've just had. He groans a little, deep in the back of his throat, like a release of sorts, and the heady realisation that he's been wanting this just as much as she has is all the incentive needed.
It's rough, but controlled. Nothing is broken, nobody screams, not out loud anyway. It's everything and nothing like the last time. The first time.
In the aftermath, when he falls asleep with his mouth slightly parted, panting soft alcohol flavoured air onto her exposed shoulder, Addison fights the urge to flee. Ambient light seeps through skewed curtains, providing just enough illumination that she thinks she could probably escape without waking him.
She figures that so many people have up and left him in the middle of the night, both literally and figuratively.
Will he even notice one more?
Against her better judgment, she stays. She can see the surprise, a poor attempt to hide it failing dismally, when he wakes the next morning, he'd been expecting it too. The disappearing act that never came.
“You're still here...” he murmurs, voice rough, echoing through her chest, incredulous.
“Yeah...still here...” she breathes, nodding slowly, feeling the pull of her hair, trapped tightly beneath him.
“Good,” he sighs, the word trailing off as his eyelids slide closed once more, beating a tactical retreat back into slumber.
--
Addison hears the rumours long before she sees the evidence for herself. He hadn't wanted to come in to the hospital at all, masking his terror behind a sarcastic scoff of morbid memorials and people who want to remember when all he wants to do is freaking forget it all.
She probably should have known then, over burnt coffee and cold toast and bitter words spat with no real conviction.
She steps through the exam room curtain with a certain degree of trepidation. They haven't seen each other since they parted ways at his front door hours earlier. It would seem that so much has changed in the interim.
“So, the rumours are true then?”
He's perched on the edge of the bed, feet dangling inches above the floor, swinging slightly. His right arm is casted and slung across his chest, three dark sutures have closed the bruised and bleeding flesh above his right eyebrow. His posture shifts at her words and he makes a move to stand.
She dissuades him with gentle shove that shocks him more than anything else.
“Oh, yeah? Which rumour is that? The one where I attacked the bastard with a bedpan or the one where he tried to kill me with the defib. paddles?” His voice is tight, edgy, and Addison is wary of pushing him too far, despite the fact that she fears that line was broken hours ago.
“Defib. paddles? Really? Haven't heard that one. My personal favourite is the one where he had an intern as a hostage and you kung fu'd him into unconsciousness with your Jackie Chan moves. Didn't know you knew kung fu...” she finishes with a tentative grin.
He scrubs his left hand across his face, wincing as his fingers graze a little too close to the sutures.
“I'm a fucking idiot...” he sighs and Addison is relieved that he at least has the sense to admit it.
“Yeah,” she agrees, “Yeah you are... is it broken?”
He laughs and nods, even though nothing about this situation is remotely humourous. “Only in about three and a half places...”
“Jesus, Karev.”
“I know, I know. Torres is convinced it needs surgery.”
“And you're not? You and your vast orthopeadic surgery experience?” She tries to hide the sarcasm and fails as Alex shrugs a half hearted response.
“It's been broken before, it'll heal...”
“Karev, you're a surgeon, you're mostly an idiot,” she interjects, “but you're also a surgeon, do you really-”
“I know, okay. I know... I just need...” the sentence trails off, like he's lost for words, “I just need a minute to figure all this out...”
“Okay,” she nods, more than familiar with that feeling herself, the feeling that your life is passing you by at warp speed and that everyone but you seems to know what the hell is going on. “Okay, take a few minutes...” She risks touching him, raising her fingers to his hair. His eyes remain resolutely focused on his lap but he doesn't object and he doesn't pull away.
Addison has no idea what to read into that.
--
Two days later the Wylie baby is transferred from NICU and Alex is released from hospital following surgery to insert a plate and half a dozen screws into his right forearm. Addison still has a hard time believing that he ever thought he could escape Callie and her surgical screwdriver.
He's leaned back against the wall of the hospital as she exits the building for the last time, for now anyway. He appears to be waiting for something, or maybe someone, but she knows Grey and Yang are still inside so she has no idea who.
“You off?” he questions, and she tries to talk herself out of the disappointment she's sure she detects.
“Yup. Arizona can handle it from here and Doctor Avery is good at what he does, no matter what you think about his ass...”
“Hey, I don't think anything about his ass, thank you very much!”
“Well, if that's true, you sure are in the minority as far as Seattle Grace employees go,” she laughs, watching him closely, using the relaxed banter to size him up.
“Well...” He shifts awkwardly, tries to hide a wince behind false bravado and a fleeting grin that doesn't even get close to his eyes, “have a good-”
“Come back with me.” The words are out before she really has a chance to think about what could possibly happen next, and in the split second between her mouth closing and his opening she flashes back to a time when he was more than happy to shoot her down.
You're not my girlfriend...
“What?”
“Come back with me, to LA...”
“To Los Angeles, LA?” It's not a rejection. Not yet anyway.
“Yes, to Los Angeles, LA. Is there more than one? You can't work anyway. Make the most of it. Come be a dorky tourist for a week or so... just, I don't know... get away from here. Go somewhere that isn't here for a while... do something that isn't this” She gestures expansively to the hospital looming behind them, to Joe's in the foreground, to every achingly familiar landmark in sight.
“I've never been to Los Angeles...” he admits, and it's still not a rejection and the absurd swell of hope in her gut makes Addison want to slap herself for being so pathetic.
“So come then, you'll love it.”
He raises an eyebrow dubiously in her direction, “Okay, so maybe not love, but it's not that bad if you avoid all the touristy places-”
“But you just told me I could be a dorky tourist,” he cuts in, teasing her.
“Yeah, you can be, just not in the places where there are other dorky tourists...”
He bends to collect the backpack slung casually at his feet and by the time he looks up Addison already knows what's coming.
“Thanks for the invite and for everything else you've done these past couple of days,” he begins and Addison is somewhat comforted by the apparent sincerity in his words, “but I can't right now...” He nods out towards the traffic and Addison watches as a Ford Ranger that's seen better days than today jerks to a clumsy halt at the curb.
She nods as he pulls away from the wall. “Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me...”
He nods back before grinning over her shoulder and Addison follows his line of sight to the male that's just stepped out from behind the driver's door.
“Who's the chauffeur?” she inquires with more than a touch of admiration and is shocked when Alex sputters out a disbelieving laugh.
“The chauffeur is my brother, Aaron. And he'd kick your ass for calling him anything even remotely French sounding...”
“Your brother...” she nods, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, before adding a soft huh figures under her breath.
“Hey, Addison.” She turns back reluctantly to see that he's stopped about half way between her and the car. “He's only here for a few days, a week tops. Maybe... after that...?”
“Yeah, Karev,” she concedes with a nod, “maybe after that...”
