And that heart how it b l e e d s. [x]

↳ Grey’s Anatomy ↬ 13x23 — “True Colors.“

Exhaustion had coaxed her to sleep, but it was a short-lived reprieve. Within a few short hours, she was wide awake and staring at the ceiling, the echoes of their fight still ringing in her ears. The shattering glass against the counter top beside him. The way her heart jolted not once, but twice on the precipice of the staircase. The dark look in his eye as he held her so tightly by the arms. The ringing of metal bands hitting the floor and clattering down the pipes with bright, metallic pangs. The scream of complete and utter anguish that followed. Not to mention all of those little digs that just kept right on digging. She’d defended herself so poorly; so blind was her anger and so desperate her attempts to cover up the wreck she’d made of her marriage. His false accusations still stung just as badly as when he’d said them, but more than that—-even more painful—-was the way he’d looked at her.

Like she’d once looked at Derek.

It haunted her when she tried to close her eyes and go back to sleep, her tired mind mingling memories with the sound of Alex’s soft breathing beside her, and suddenly it became of utmost importance that she go let Buffy back into the house. The poor thing had been unceremoniously thrown from the house hours ago, and it had to be cold outside. Never mind that the dog often spent nights outside on their patio surveying the pool from the comfort of her plush dog bed. Slipping from between the sheets so as not to disturb him, she pulled a robe tightly around herself and disappeared into the hall. She knew he wouldn’t stir. She’d done it enough times to know.

The chill of the night air rushed through the plush fabric of the robe, instantly awakening her senses to a new degree as she stared out into the darkness. In the distance, she could just make out the faint silhouette of trees against a spectacular, sparkling night sky. Her eyes traced the few constellations she could easily make out and she shivered, a cold breeze taking her back to a time and a place years since buried in her memory. Addison couldn’t help but wonder if Alex still knew the night sky like he had on the beach all that time ago, somehow still remembering from a class even further back in time. A bittersweet smile traced itself across her lips for a moment at the thought. She longed for his warmth against her back; his eyes guiding hers through the twinkling expanse above in casual curiosity. In it’s place, she felt the course, chilled coat of Buffy bump against her leg. Looking down at the dog through the darkness, she was surprised to find her eyes welled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured as she gave her companion a sincere pat on the head, taking a seat on the nearest lounge chair and patting the spot beside her. The dog jumped up with a little less spring than she’d had in her younger years, laying her head down patiently in Addison’s lap as she massaged between her ears and down her chest. There was a long pause before her voice broke through the cricket-filled silence again. “It wasn’t your fault. You’re a good dog.” Guilt coursed through her as she felt a stream of withering warmth trace down her cheeks and she sniffled. “How did things get like that, hmm? I thought I was past this. I thought I could handle this. I thought I… well, I thought a lot of things.”  Her hand came to rest, arm against Buffy’s back as the warmth finally began to transfer to her skin, and she blew out a breath to calm her tears. “I’m not myself, am I?”

The dog looked up, tilting her head with tall ears cocked in curiosity. Addison couldn’t help but smile as a warm, wet tongue met her other hand. “C’mon. Let’s go inside. You must be freezing.” Of course, the redhead knew the dog was probably fine. She had a thick coat of fur and a nice kennel to retreat to when the temperatures dipped, and it never got so cold that she’d be in any real danger. Addison, on the other hand, was beginning to lose sensation in her toes, and the dog’s presence was just enough to keep her from being self-destructive and staying out all night. With one last, fleeting look up at the night sky, she made her way back inside, absently sweeping the shards of glass from the fine hardwood floor, filling the dog bowl to the brim with food and leaning against the counter to listen to the rhythmic sound of jaws crushing kibble.  

Everywhere her eyes landed, another memory sprang to life. The pool brought back barbecues and little Gabe with his water wings, proudly doggy paddling laps as she swam alongside him in smooth, gliding strokes. Alex grinning at his son’s progress, chest puffed with pride. Pure, domestic bliss to plaster over the unpleasant fact that he’d almost drowned there years prior. The sting around her engagement ring reminded her of that dark page in their history, as well. The terror they’d endured together—-they terror they’d survived for the sake of their love and their son. He’d grown so much since then. Leaning against the counter, her eyes scanned the open layout of their home, settling on the door frame that lead into the hall. Addison thought it was a cheesy idea to mark Gabe’s height on the wall, but Alex had insisted. It was important, now, to have that memory. Something to look back on once he was grown. A mark for every birthday, since he was old enough to stand with his grubby, cake-covered hands against the wall.

Her expression soured as she realized it was the only memory she’d had of their son as of late. Alex was right. She was missing everything. Back when her son was small, things were easy. There was the issue of a short maternity leave, and the daycare at the hospital, and nannies, but there had always been time. She’d sneak off to visit him on breaks, or call the nannies so constantly that she was sure they’d quit on the spot. Seeing him had been as easy as walking down the hall and watching him sleep. There weren’t any sports practices or school to take his time away from her. There weren’t all-nighters and endless meetings to keep her away from him. Alex was picking up the slack as best he could, she realized, but it could never replace what she was losing. There wouldn’t be a ‘next time’ for his first home run, his first broken bone, or his first crush.

There might not even be a ‘next time’ for taking the night off to spend with Alex after Gabe was tucked into bed.

It was then that she realized she was shivering, having left the back door wide open in her absentminded midnight stroll. Forcing herself back to reality, she closed and locked the door, giving Buffy one last look before heading back up the stairs. Addison got as far as sitting down and pulling the blankets over her lap before she stopped, looking down at Alex. He was still fast asleep, his expression lax against the pillow. More than anything, she wanted to burrow into his warmth, but she stopped just short of touching him as she laid down beside him. He’d wake the minute her chilled skin touched his, and he looked so tired. Tired from all of the stress she’d put on him. Tired from the ambush she’d planned. The yelling, and screaming, the ‘go to Hell’s, and the insults they couldn’t take back. The damage they’d both done.

So she laid there, watching him sleep, her mind full to the brim as she slowly found warmth soothing her tensed muscles. Would they ever be able to talk about any of this, or would it always be a fight? Were they trapped in a death spiral, or could they be saved? Addison didn’t know. For once in her life, when it came to Alex Karev, she honestly didn’t know. The very idea was suffocating. She loved him so deeply that all she wanted to do was undo it all, but that was impossible. She couldn’t erase what she’d done any more than she could rid her head of the insults he’d slung at her. Insults that could very well have been true, by the way she’d been acting. How could she have hurt him so deeply when her only intention was to be everything he’d wanted?

Heavy lids closed once or twice before daybreak, but there was no rest for her in this place now so full of disillusionment and disrepair. What she needed was to talk, but what she needed didn’t matter. Not when Alex had largely been the victim here, gone to bed with no supper and hardly a marriage left in his battered hands. Still, when he woke, she found herself watching him stir with a gaze intent on conversation. It took everything in her to stifle it down and look away so he wouldn’t notice she hadn’t slept. As if the dark circles beneath her eyes hadn’t been any indication of just how stressed she’d been these past few months. As if they didn’t darken tenfold after the weight of their last night together burdened  her further. It wasn’t until breakfast that she finally spoke, sitting across from him at the table they’d once shared so many wonderful meals at. “I don’t know if I can do this.”