Chapter Text
The air inside Seattle Grace was usually a controlled, sterile, but warm atmosphere. But today, the hospital had a climate of its own. A freak cold snap had gripped the state of Washington, making the temperatures drop. Normally, inside the hospital, this wasn’t a problem, but a major HVAC failure in the North Wing had turned several sections of the hospital into something that more resembled a fridge than a center for medical care.
Meredith watched her breath, visible in front of her, in small, white puffs as she walked down the main corridor. It was surreal. The physical sensation of the cold was a sharp, biting reminder of the world outside the hospital’s walls, a world she often forgot existed when she was on shift, but now was confronted with because of the broken HVAC.
Around her, the migration towards warmer parts of the hospital was in full effect. While the staff still did their essential tasks, there was also a sudden, aggressive interest in the least-desirable tasks located in the South Wing. Residents who usually dodged scut were suddenly volunteering to transport patients for imaging or they were offering to manually inventory the South Wing’s supply closets. They tried to be anywhere but the North Wing so the air wasn't visible in front of their faces.
Meredith felt the weight of her Dartmouth hoodie under her lab coat. It was a warm and thick hoody that usually stayed in her locker, but at that moment, it was the only thing that kept her from shaking from the cold. It was a heavy navy fabric that had faded from years of washing and fraying at the cuffs, but it was a favorite of hers to wear.
Beside her, Izzie had been nonstop complaining the entire day, her usually bright demeanor frozen solid, as though the broken HVAC had singled her out as its primary victim. Her hands were buried deep in her coat pockets, shoulders curled inward in a losing battle against the cold.
"I'm serious, Meredith," Izzie hissed, her teeth nearly chattering. "The clinic is a tundra. I had a patient in for a post-op check, and I’m pretty sure his sutures were actually starting to frost over. How are we supposed to practice medicine in a walk-in freezer?"
"It’s the North Wing, Izzie. That part of the hospital is the oldest, the pipes must be ancient," Meredith said, her own voice sounding muffled as she buried her head a little into her hoodie.
"It's inhumane," Izzie continued, gesturing wildly. "I tried to get more blankets from the supply room for the clinic, but they’ve already been rationed for the ER and palliative care. I’m pretty sure I saw a nurse smuggling a space heater into the nurses’ station on the fourth floor like it was contraband. If we don't get some heat in the clinic soon, I’m just going to move my entire patient care into the cafeteria and hope the smell of mystery meat doesn’t scare them away. At least the cafeteria is heated, but also full."
Meredith glanced at her fellow resident. She heard every word Izzie was saying, but her mind was somewhere else entirely. “I heard the backup generators are prioritizing the nursery and the NICU,” she said. She was, at least, grateful for that. The tiny babies needed the warmth more than anyone. Their bodies weren’t equipped to regulate their own temperature yet.
Izzie sighed, a long cloud of mist escaping her lips. "Thank God for that. I think if Satan walked into a cold NICU, she’d probably find a way to burn the hospital down just to keep those incubators warm."
Meredith didn't answer, especially since she wanted to correct Izzie on the use of the name ‘Satan’, but she knew she shouldn’t. Her mind turned towards Addison. She was thinking about the way things had shifted since that first night in her kitchen with Suture, or better said with Addison dangling her lanyard that had actual diamonds on them to lure out a stray cat in the pouring rain. Suture wasn't just a joint venture anymore. It was the way Addison’s presence had started to change the air in her mother’s house. The way they worked together, even though they were attending and resident. The moment the world saw them as a unit still hummed in the back of her mind.
Izzie started a new rant about the thermal properties of hospital blankets, her voice rising in pitch. Meredith felt the familiar dark and twisty claustrophobia begin to set in. She loved her friends, but today, the cold felt too personal to share with Izzie’s frantic energy. “Why are we even standing here in this drafty and cold hallway?” Izzie asked and Meredith mostly heard it as an excuse to get away from her fellow resident.
She saw the door to the Attending Lounge. It was technically off-limits, but it was also located in the heart of the frozen zone. Nobody would be in there. Everyone with a badge and a brain was in the South Wing.
"I should go see if doctor Sloan is in the attending lounge," Meredith interrupted, knowing that Izzie wouldn’t question that fact since she was on his service that day. Izzie merely waved her away, changing direction towards the South Wing.
Meredith carefully pushed open the heavy door to the Attending Lounge and slipped inside, the click of the latch sounding like a gunshot in the frozen silence.
Addison stood by the large windows of the Attending Lounge, that looked out over the frost-covered parking lot. The lounge was, as she had expected, completely empty. Her colleagues having sought out the warmth in other parts of the hospital.
Her phone was pressed to her ear. The voice on the other end was clipped and completely devoid of empathy. She was already regretting that she had picked up the phone call from her mother.
"It’s a matter of endurance, Addison," Bizzy Montgomery said. The signal was perfect, making it feel like her mother was standing right there in the freezing room with her. "The Montgomery women do not simply quit because things become difficult. Your father and I have had our... complications. But we maintained the structure. We maintained the name."
Addison closed her eyes. She could feel the chill seeping into her bones and she regretted her outfit for the day, a sleeveless, navy blue dress that costs more than her monthly wage, but did nothing to stave away the cold. But the coldness in her mother’s voice was even worse. "It wasn't just difficult, Mother. It was over. There was no life left in it to keep it going and it was visible for everyone else to see."
"And now you’re living in a rainy outpost in the Northwest, playing at being a pioneer," Bizzy countered, clearly not wanting to listen. "I suppose there is one silver lining. I spoke with the family attorneys now that the divorce is completely finalized. I’m glad you had the sense to keep the prenup iron-clad and kept most of your finances separate. You secured the house in the Hamptons and the primary assets, you even got the Brownstone. It would be a tragedy to lose the Forbes legacy on top of a failed marriage."
Addison felt a familiar, sharp ache in her chest. Assets. Legacy. Stamina. These were the metrics of her life, or rather the life her mother wanted her to lead. My mother hadn't asked if she was happy. She hadn't asked if she was lonely. She had asked about the financial repercussions or the house that had been in the Forbes family for ages. That house had never even been in Derek’s name to begin with, she had made sure of that.
"I have to go, Mother. I have a surgery," Addison lied. Her hand was shaking as she lowered the phone.
"Do try to stay focused, Addison. Don't let your emotions diminish your reputation. It’s the only thing you have left that’s still intact..."
The line went dead.
Addison lowered the phone, her breath hitching. She felt small. In the quiet, freezing lounge, surrounded by the expectations of the ‘Satan’ persona she wore like armor, she felt like a failure. She was one of the best surgeons in her field, and she was still being berated by a woman who valued a prenup more than her daughter’s heart.
She shivered, a violent, involuntary tremor that racked her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers digging into the skin of her upper arms, trying to find some remnant of heat in a room that had none.
She didn't hear the door open. She didn't realize she wasn't alone until she heard a soft, hesitant voice.
“Addison?”
Meredith stood in the shadows near the lockers, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had come in here to escape Izzie, but what she had found was infinitely more complicated.
She had heard the tail end of the phone call. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the lounge was too quiet, and the voice of Addison’s mother had been sharp enough to pierce the silence. Meredith knew that tone. It was the tone of a parent who used their love as a scalpel, cutting away anything that didn't fit a predetermined mold.
She watched Addison for a moment. The redhead was standing by the window, silhouetted against the grey Seattle sky. She looked uncharacteristically fragile. Her professional mask hadn't just slipped. It was gone, leaving behind a woman who looked like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will.
Addison was also wearing a dress that was clearly meant for a climate-controlled office in Manhattan, not a hospital wing without heating in a cold snap. She was vibrating with a chill that Meredith knew wasn't just physical.
She felt the pull of the connection they had built. It was the bridge they had constructed over Suture, over hand-over-hand surgical lessons, and over smudged mascara in a private office. The Meredith from weeks before would have slipped out the door before she was spotted. She didn't do comfort. She didn't do feelings. But then she thought of the way Addison’s presence had started to fill the empty rooms of her house.
Meredith didn't ask what was wrong. She walked over to the window, joining the older woman.
When Addison fully turned towards her, Meredith could see her red-rimmed eyes and for a second, a flicker of her usual professional poise tried to surface. But then it clearly registered that it was Meredith. The tension in her jaw didn't vanish, but the sharp edges of her failing mask softened into something else, something tired and vulnerable that she only allowed herself to be when they were behind closed doors. It was the look of a woman who was tired of holding the weight of the world.
"Meredith?" she asked, her voice softer than Meredith had ever heard it. "You’re... you’re normally not allowed in here. And you're going to freeze, shouldn’t you search for warmer parts of the hospital?."
Meredith didn't answer with words. She reached for the hem of her Dartmouth hoodie. It was warm from her own body heat, and as she pulled it off, the biting sting of the lounge’s air hit her. She closed the distance between them and pressed the warm fabric into Addison’s hands.
"Take it," Meredith said. "You're turning blue, and that dress is barely a napkin. I’m fine. I’ve spent my whole life developing a thick skin."
Addison stared at the sweatshirt. Her fingers brushed the logo, a faint trace of her Manhattan upbringing flickering in her expression as she looked at the faded Dartmouth lettering. But then the warmth hit her.
Addison pulled the hoodie over her head. As the heavy fabric settled over her shoulders, the heat from Meredith’s body seemed to transfer directly to her skin. She let out a long, shaky breath, one that seemed to carry the weight of the last hour with it. She stood there for a long moment, shivering less now as the scent of lavender and Suture enveloped her, before her legs finally seemed to lose their strength. She retreated from the window and sank down into the nearest armchair, her hands disappearing into the long sleeves.
Addison exhaled, a long, shaky breath. "Thank you," she whispered.
Meredith sat on the edge of the coffee table, watching her.
The silence between them stretched out, heavy and cold, yet surprisingly comfortable. Meredith watched the way Addison huddled into the oversized fabric, her mind racing. She wanted to say something, anything to acknowledge the wreckage of that phone call, but the boundaries of the hospital still felt like tripwires. She debated the words, opening her mouth to speak and then closing it again, afraid that the wrong sentence would make Addison retreat back behind her walls. She was incredibly relieved when Addison finally broke the silence herself.
"She thinks I should have just... endured it," Addison said, the words spilling out. "Like she did. Like it’s a trophy you win for being the most miserable person in the room. She looks at my divorce and all she sees is a lack of stamina."
Meredith thought of Ellis and the boxes full of ledgers in her dining room.
"My mother didn't endure," Meredith said quietly. "She walked away. She left my father for a man who couldn't leave his own wife, and when that failed... It was like she decided being a human being was just too much work. She didn't just become bitter, she became emotionless. She spent the rest of her life becoming the most brilliant, most isolated person in the room because she couldn't have the one thing that made her feel alive."
"She used to say that people were just complications to a surgery. She became a machine because she didn't know how to exist without someone to love her back. She thought if she was perfect enough, the hole in her life wouldn't matter. So whether you stay or you go, they always find a way to make you pay for it. But you’re living your own life, Addison, even if it’s messy."
Addison pulled the sleeves over her hands, her eyes fixed on Meredith. The way she was looking at the younger woman was different now. There was a depth of affection there that Meredith didn't quite know how to categorize yet, a soft, lingering warmth that made the freezing room feel smaller.
The words hit Addison like a physical force. She thought of Bizzy. She thought of the cold, calculated way her mother had talked about assets while she was standing in a frozen room.
"I don't want to be bitter," Addison whispered.
"You're not," Meredith said firmly. "You’re co-parenting a stray kitten and wearing a faded Dartmouth hoodie in a frozen lounge. You’re definitely not bitter, Addison."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy. It was charged with a new kind of understanding. The boundaries between them were being erased by the simple reality of being two women who had been raised by people who forgot how to be human.
The door to the lounge clicked open.
Meredith and Addison both stiffened, the professional masks snapping back into place by sheer instinct, but the closeness between them didn’t entirely vanish.
Derek Shepherd walked in. He looked harried, his hair slightly disheveled. He was carrying a stack of charts and looking around the room for a file he had left behind.
"The South Wing is a madhouse," Derek muttered. He stopped when he saw them.
Addison watched him from the depths of the hood, a strange sense of detachment washing over her. She was sitting in a chair, practically drowning in Meredith's faded navy hoodie. She could smell the lavender. She could smell the faint, toasty scent of Suture, the kitten they had saved together and were currently nurturing together. The sweater was a roadmap of their changed relationship, a physical manifestation of everything Derek didn't know.
But as Addison watched him, she saw that he noticed none of it. He looked at her and probably just saw a blue sweatshirt, not even wondering why Addison would wear such a thing.
"The HVAC repair is supposedly two hours out," Derek said, his eyes lingering on Addison for a second before moving to Meredith. He hadn’t recognize the sweater was Meredith’s. He had spent months with Meredith, but he had never truly looked at the things that mattered to her.
"Meredith, try not to catch hypothermia," Derek said, his voice taking on a slightly biting, sardonic edge. "I'd hate to have to fish you out of another 'cold situation.' You aren't exactly known for your resilience in freezing temperatures, are you?"
The remark about her fall into the bay hung in the air. Sharp, unnecessary, and dripping with a history that felt miles away from the warmth Addison was currently feeling. Meredith just tightened her jaw, but Addison felt a flash of cold anger.
"She's doing just fine, Derek," Addison said, her voice clipped and protective.
Derek just shrugged, grabbed his file, and gave them a distracted nod. "Stay warm, Addison."
He grabbed his file and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. He was completely oblivious to the changing rhythm that had formed between his ex-wife and his ex-girlfriend.
Once the door was closed, Addison pulled the collar of the hoodie up slightly, breathing in the scent of the kitten and that of Meredith, one more time.
"He's very observant," Addison said, her voice dry.
Meredith let out a small, genuine laugh. "He sees what he wants to see, Addison. He always has."
Meredith stood up. Her pager was vibrating against her hip. She looked at Addison, and for a moment, she saw something in the redhead’s face she couldn't quite place, a softness, a lingering look of deep affection that went beyond mere friendship. It made Meredith’s heart skip a beat, a strange fluttering she wasn't ready to name.
"I have to go," Meredith said. "Trauma coming in. Keep the hoodie for the rest of your shift. I have a spare in my locker."
"Meredith?"
Meredith paused with her hand on the doorknob. She turned back.
Addison looked up, the light from the window catching the red of her hair against the dark navy of the hoodie. She looked settled. She looked like she belonged in Meredith's clothes.
"Thank you. Really. Not just for the sweater."
Meredith felt the weight of the words. She didn't give a jerky, defensive nod like she usually would in emotional situations. She let herself smile, a small, real smile that softened the 'dark and twisty' lines of her face.
"You should come over tonight after your shift. Suture is expecting a full report on why you're wearing my clothes."
She stepped out into the freezing hallway. The air hit her, but she didn't feel the chill as much as she expected. Behind her, Addison sat in the quiet, finally warm, hidden inside a piece of Meredith.