Chapter Text
The next morning, Meredith shuffled into line with the other interns, coffee clutched to her chest like a lifeline. The previous night had been nerve-wracking, between keeping the babies monitored and keeping Addison unaware of Adrianne, and Meredith desperately wanted a break. She’d finally been able to drop her daughter at the daycare and, large coffee in hand, she followed her friends blindly. Bailey’s words washed over her, assigning her and Cristina to the pit for the day—but Meredith didn’t hear her, too busy inhaling her precious caffeine to process anything.
Cristina peered at Meredith curiously, wondering why exactly last night had been so stressful. Sure, Adrianne had stayed over at the hospital again, but that wasn’t new—the only difference: Meredith had been on Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd’s service. The neonatal surgeon walked in, and Cristina studied her—and the immediate, rosy blush that took up residence in Meredith’s cheeks whenever the attending was around. She thought of Adrianne, with her red hair and attitude—and promptly choked on her coffee. “Um, hey, Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd. Do you have a brother?”
Addison froze mid-step, brow furrowing as she stared at Yang. She groaned internally, face twisting into a placid, polite smile. “Yes, Dr. Yang, I do. Why?”
Cristina lit up at the new piece of information, watching as Meredith’s eyes went wide and she pointedly made a ‘zip it’ gesture.
As they headed off for their assignments, Meredith grabbed Cristina’s arm, dragging her away for a second. Cristina grinned.
Before she could speak, Meredith spoke. “You didn’t connect shit,” she hissed lowly.
Cristina just waved a hand dismissively, grin sharklike. “You don’t want to admit it, I get it. But I clearly connected the dots.”
Meredith groaned, swiping a hand through her hair. “You’re missing some crucial pieces, believe me.”
Their mouths snapped shut as Addison’s heels clicked across the floor. As she walked past, she studied their expressions—the triumph in Yang’s eyes, the way Meredith wouldn’t meet her gaze. She thought of Yang asking after her brother, and the bright blush that still stained Meredith’s cheeks, and dots connected in her mind. Lips pursing into a tight line, she stalked off, anger rising.
Addison slammed the door to her office shut, holding down a number on her speed dial. How dare Archer—and with Meredith, at that. She stubbornly refused to think about why the idea of Meredith being involved hurt more than the idea of her brother sleeping with her interns. No sooner had the phone connected than she launched into an angry rant. “Archer. Did you sleep with a blonde woman by the name of Meredith Grey? Surgical intern here in Seattle?”
Archer’s voice was smug and relaxed, even in the face of her anger. “Hm… doesn’t ring a bell. Maybe I should come see her in person, jog my memory.”
Addison huffed in frustration—Archer was the world’s most annoying older brother. “It’s a simple question, Archer. Did you, or did you not, sleep with Meredith Grey?”
“Chill out, Addie,” Archer’s grin could be heard through the phone. “What’s got your panties in a twist? Something going on you’re not telling me?”
“No,” Addison snapped—too quickly, she realized a half-second too late.
Archer’s delighted laughter echoed through the tinny phone speakers. “Sure, lil sis. You know, I’m free for the next few weeks—maybe I should come out there, see how life on the West Coast is treating you.”
“Archer, don’t you dare—” she growled into the phone, trying to dissuade him from the notion—but already knowing it wouldn’t work.
“I’m on my way to the airport now. I’ll be there in the afternoon, meet this little intern of yours.”
He promptly hung up before Addison could let loose the full tirade she’d been preparing, leaving her staring at the blank phone screen in shock and disbelief.
As she followed Cristina and Bailey to the pit, Meredith contemplated how she’d get her friend to drop the idea that she’d slept with Addison’s brother. The easiest way would likely be to tell the truth, but Meredith felt oddly protective over Addison’s secret—the idea of telling anyone such intimate, private details about the older surgeon made her skin crawl.
“Dead baby bike race day,” Bailey announced as they donned gowns. “Sew fast, discharge fast, take bodies up to the OR yesterday. Understood?”
With that, she stepped aside and Meredith entered the pit, Cristina at her side.
“Cristina. Please. Let it be,” she hissed as they started suturing a pair of bikers who had crashed into a stop sign.
“One of the rules of being my person involves telling me about things. So…” Cristina trailed off with a pointed look at Meredith, who hurriedly busied herself with her patient’s wounds, ignoring the unspoken question. Before Cristina could bother her again, a new wave of injured bikers and bystanders entered, and they were pulled to different trauma bays.
Meredith lost track of Cristina for a while, so immersed in the monotony of stitching and bandaging that when she moved to the next bed and the patient didn’t have any visible wounds, she stopped, blinking in surprise.
“I got hit by one of those bikers,” the woman explained, one hand splayed across her very pregnant stomach. “Fell down and hit my arm, and I wanted to get everything checked out.”
Swallowing hard, Meredith paged Addison and began a preliminary workup, testing the function of the patient’s arm and prepping the ultrasound. Addison burst in just as she’d turned on the machine, snapping a pair of gloves on.
“What have we got?” she asked, smiling reassuringly at the patient before refocusing on Meredith.
“25 weeks pregnant, was sideswiped by a biker and fell on her right side. Didn’t report any direct landing on her abdomen, bruising present on her hip and arm. Vitals within normal range and stable, ultrasound is ready for you.”
Nodding, Addison picked up some gel and turned to the patient. “I’m going to do a quick ultrasound, check on the baby, make sure they didn’t get injured from the fall. Okay?”
The patient nodded, and Addison pressed the wand to her abdomen, locating the fetus with practiced ease. As she watched the attending work, Meredith looked up, meeting Cristina’s eyes across the ER. Reflexively, Meredith blushed before adjusting her mask to hide it.
“25 weeks puts us in what trimester, Dr. Grey?”
Addison’s voice snapped Meredith back to the current patient, and she looked up, cheeks burning redder as she stared into Addison’s jade eyes.
“Second,” she said confidently, feeling her chest warm as Addison’s eyes curved approvingly above her mask.
“Correct. Good job,” Addison murmured, checking all the fetal limbs and organs. “Dr. Grey, if you would?”
She held the ultrasound wand out and Meredith took it gingerly, stepping up to the patient’s side.
“Very good,” Addison’s voice rang out behind her, and Meredith nearly jumped at the sudden proximity. “Now the heartbeat.”
Meredith froze as Addison’s hand grasped hers, changing her angle as the steady thump of the fetus’ heartbeat rang through the room.
“If you look here, you’ll see a current image of the baby,” Addison explained to the mother as if the press of her arm against Meredith’s wasn’t rearranging the intern’s brain chemistry. “Looks to be perfectly healthy.”
As she cleaned up the woman’s stomach, Meredith could see Cristina still staring from across the ER, brows furrowed in concentration.
Before she left the pit, Addison paused to survey the chaos. With the bike race, chances were high she’d just be paged right back down again for another pregnant, injured bystander, and she hoped to preempt the chaos. Her eyes caught on Meredith’s form as she tended to a cyclist with metal shards in his abdomen, clearly arguing about further treatment. As she watched, Karev came over and, after a few moments’ discussion, simply yanked the spokes free and placed bandages over the punctures.
That’s not going to end well, Addison realized, mind whirring as she saw how deep the metal had been embedded in the biker’s abdomen. He needs a CT.
She took a step towards them, ready to intervene and explain to the patient the possible risks of leaving against medical advice—only to freeze as the biker pulled Meredith into a passionate kiss. Her stomach dropped like a stone, and she whirled, ducking around a corner and pressing herself into the wall as she reeled. Meredith was—she was—was she dating that man? Flustered, she peered back around the corner, only to see the man leaving, waving cheekily at a heavily blushing Meredith.
“Kissing bikers won’t erase the fact that you slept with Addison’s brother.”
Cristina appeared at her side and Meredith whirled, spluttering. “I didn’t—he just—”
“I hope it was worth it,” Cristina continued mercilessly. “Satan looked ready to spit fire.”
Groaning, Meredith looked across the pit, desperate to see Addison, to explain—explain what? She doesn’t remember you. She only knows you as the person who was going to date her husband, her mind provided helpfully.
A tall blond man in a suit wandered into the ER, and Cristina jabbed an elbow into Meredith’s side. “Hey. Your inevitable demise at Satan’s hands can wait. Check him out.”
Turning, Meredith choked on her own spit. She’d done her research on Addison’s family when she’d realized she was pregnant—she’d recognize Archer Montgomery anywhere. His practice is on the East Coast, though, she thought, whipping her head around for any possible reason he’d be here—no. He can’t be here for Adrianne—he can’t know about her, can he? Thoughts swirled in her head like tornado debris, and she ducked behind a privacy curtain, peering out as he strode through the hospital chaos like he belonged there.
Then, Addison came back into view, and Meredith felt her cheeks flame as she simply stared. Cristina’s eyes flicked from Archer, to Addison, and then Meredith, alight with barely contained glee.
“Addie! Baby sis!” Archer’s face lit up as he saw her, and he immediately started weaving through the crowded ER.
Addison resolutely ignored him, heels clicking as she marched away.
“Addison! Addison!” He pulled free of the crowd and chased after her, voice echoing in the empty hallway. “Addison Adrianne Forbes Montgomery!”
Cristina saw Addison stop, saw her brother catch up, the frantic, hissed discussion—but her brain was still stuck on what she’d just heard.
Adrianne. Addison’s middle name was Adrianne.
She yanked a photo out from behind Meredith’s ID, staring down at the picture where Adrianne’s beaming face grinned up at her, pieces falling into place. The fiery red hair. The freckles. The sharp jawline. The confident ‘I know more than you do’ expression that was a perfect, miniature copy of the neonatal attending’s.
“Oh no,” Cristina breathed, mind whirring at the implications. “I was definitely missing a piece.”
“You whore,” Addison hissed, dragging her brother into her office and shutting the door. As she closed the blinds, she continued, “you can’t keep it in your pants, can you? Why did you have to sleep with her, of all people?”
Grinning, Archer settled onto the couch, steepling his hands. “Addie. Relax. Why do you even care?” His grin sharpened into a knowing smirk. “Isn’t she your husband’s mistress?”
Addison groaned, raking her hands through her hair and sinking into her desk chair. “I—it’s about you having sex with someone I work with!”
“Hm. So you’d have called me out here if I’d had a one-night stand with a random nurse?” Archer’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he saw what a mess his sister was turning into. “Besides, I thought you were getting back with him.”
“I—I don’t know!” Addison yelled, smacking the table with her hands. “It makes me sick to think about Derek touching her with those hands, and I can’t breathe when they’re together, and…” She trailed off into loud, hiccupping sobs, collapsing back into the couch.
“Addie…” Archer murmured, reaching out only to pull his hand back, unsure how to comfort his sister. “So where is she? I want to meet the woman who’s got my precious baby sister in such a state.”
Addison snorted, wiping her streaming eyes with a tissue. “She was in the ER. The blonde one, with blue eyes that turn gray when she’s angry. She was stitching up patients with another intern.”
“Ohhhh,” Archer drew out the word, gently elbowing his sister. “Wait. You mean the one you were staring at like a piece of meat when I walked in?”
The red flush that spread across Addison’s cheeks nearly matched her hair as she spluttered denials. “I wasn’t—as an attending, I have a duty to supervise—”
“I couldn’t tell,” Archer talked over her, smirking, “if you wanted to kill her—or jump her bones.”
"Archie!" Addison groaned, shoving her brother's shoulder. "She was going to sleep with my husband."
Archer paused, considering. “So you had a chance for a hot threesome… and didn’t take it?” He cocked his head, genuinely confused, as if the idea of turning down any threesome was sacrilege.
“Archie!” Addison shrieked, face flaming crimson. “I do not—and with—ugh!” She huffed, standing up. “I have patients to see. Out.”
Brushing nonexistent dirt off his knees, Archer stood, grinning broadly. “Guess I’ll go down and find that intern of yours, Addie—see what exactly makes her so special.”
Eyebrows narrowed, Addison glared daggers at her brother. “Touch her, and you’ll be lucky if you can sit down ever again. I’m an OB, I know exactly how to prevent you from having any future children.”
When Archer paled slightly, a triumphant grin slid across Addison’s face. “Now. Out. Some of us have work to do. Go occupy yourself—” She held up a finger, forestalling his comments. “—outside the hospital.”
That night, after Adrianne had been safely tucked into bed, Cristina and Meredith settled on the couch, bottle of tequila between them. A few shots in, Cristina finally went straight for the point.
“So,” she asked, too calmly. “How big is Addison’s dick?”
Meredith choked, spluttering on her shot, tequila dripping from her nose as she gaped at her person. “I—what—” she laughed, high and fake, wiping her streaming eyes.
“That big, huh?”
“Cristina—” Meredith wheezed, reaching out to clap a hand over her friend’s mouth.
“Damn,” Cristina continued, impressed, sliding out of reach. “Good for her. Bet she knows how to use it, too—specialist in female anatomy and all.”
A deep red flush bloomed on Meredith’s cheekbones, rapidly spreading to her ears and down her neck. “Can we please—”
“Nope,” Cristina laughed. “This is the juiciest gossip I’ve heard in the last month.” She poured them both another shot—this conversation required it. Fixing Meredith with a pointed look that screamed ‘spill’, she continued. “How on earth did that happen, anyway? You and her?”
Meredith stared at the floor, fingers fiddling with her shot glass. “It… it was a long time ago.”
“Mer, I kinda gathered that. The squirt’s five, for fuck’s sake. Actually—” A delighted, mischievous smirk wound across Cristina’s lips. “You ended up pregnant. You—the walking condom ad. George still won’t look either of us in the eye.”
The floor was truly interesting—but not enough to drown out Cristina’s needling and poking. Meredith felt like she was going to explode from embarrassment. As long as she doesn’t figure out—
“What’d you do? Not wear a condom?” Cristina laughed at her own joke—then froze, staring wide-eyed as Meredith’s face went from embarrassed flush to medically concerning red. “Oh. My. God.”
A small, wounded noise escaped Meredith as she buried her head in her hands. “Don’t.”
“You whore,” Cristina began cackling dementedly. “You didn’t wear one!”
“I was on the pill!” Meredith blurted, drawing her knees up to hide her face completely. “It should’ve been fine!”
“Sure,” Cristina drawled, much too amused at Meredith’s plight. “If your definition of fine is a child.”
The noise that escaped Meredith at that proclamation was barely human—a whimper of pure defeat. She groaned, wishing she could merge with the couch cushions and disappear, but fate wasn’t that kind.
“So what then?” Cristina asked casually, as if they were discussing the weather. “Sex so good you fell in love?”
Meredith whipped her head around to glare at her friend, equal parts embarrassed and defensive. “That is not what happened!”
Cristina grinned smugly, and Meredith knew her expression had given her away. “Wow. That is what happened.”
Meredith grabbed a nearby pillow and, burying her face in it, screamed.
“She called you a ‘good girl’, didn’t she,” Cristina needled shamelessly, cackling like a hyena as Meredith keened miserably into the cushions. “Yep, she definitely did.”
“She—we—” Meredith whimpered, face blazing bright red. “She hung our jackets up. Jackets, Cristina. And we showered. And she left me breakfast.”
“Oh my God,” Cristina breathed, awestruck and impressed. “She domesticated you. And you fell in love.” She grinned, smacking Meredith with a pillow. “This is Romeo and Juliet, but gay.” Standing, Cristina gestured dramatically to an invisible window high above. “Addison, Addison, let down your hair—oof!”
Meredith tackled her into the cushions, cheeks flaming in mortification as she attempted to suffocate her friend. “That is not what happened!”
Laughing, Cristina pushed her aside, grabbing another shot. “Good for you, honestly. She’s hot—and the two of you make a pretty cute kid.”
“I hate you,” Meredith deadpanned, taking another shot of her own.
“But you love her.”
Unable to refute that, Meredith simply thrust the bottle into Cristina’s chest, causing the other intern to start flailing in an attempt to keep it from spilling. “I’m disowning you from being my person.”
“Sure,” Cristina cackled. “You still looove her, though.”
Cheeks flushed red from alcohol and embarrassment, Meredith thought about the night she'd met Addison, of every article she'd read in newspapers and medical journals since—and of Adrianne's near-identical face, sound asleep just upstairs. "Yeah," she mumbled into her tequila, soft enough Cristina couldn't hear. "I think I do."