from medicalsatan's journal, before I deleted it

May 27, 2007, 00:57

"Your hair's different."

"A lot of things are different."

She sits in her hotel room, takes a breath and buries her head in her hands for a moment, before rubbing her temples. Oh, this is not going to be good. Last night's conversation with Derek hadn't exactly gone the way she wanted it to -- but she kept her cool. She's good at that.

"It's longer. I like it. It's very Russell Crowe."

Not that she came to Seattle for him -- well, not exactly. First and foremost, she came for a job, a request from an old friend and her first day working at Seattle Grace was tomorrow.

She lets out a breath.

Tomorrow she'd have the opportunity to see her husband. It will, no doubt, be a little different seeing him in the workplace with the broad daylight, the flurry of people and doctors, and the absence of night after all this time. Maybe, more importantly, it will be different seeing him knowing he's found himself a ...girlfriend.

"And now you have a girlfriend in Seattle. She seems - sweet."

Addison isn't jealous. She had deserved it. What did she expect Derek to do, anyway? He runs away from Manhattan, runs away to rain-city Seattle without telling her and starts a new life. Did she really expect him to remain faithful?

"She's young. That whole wide-eyed, ooh he's a brain-surgeon thing happening, but still sweet. Which was what you were going for, right? The anti-Addison?"

She finds herself shaking her head, straightening her composure, and blankly watching the city's skyline outside of her window. Okay, so she may have added a bit of resentment in there. Sarcasm, even. She is good at that, too. But she knows there will be time to explain everything. She's not the sort to give up, especially not on the man she loves. And oh, she loves him pathetically in a way that surprises her.

"All right, Addison...just do what you came here to do first...everything else will follow after."

She reaches up and runs her fingers through her long deep reddish hair (for lack of a hairbrush), checks herself in the mirror, then picks up her briefcase before closing the door behind her. Only, when she goes through, not thinking about it in the least, she looks up to find herself in a space that doesn't look at all like the hotel hallway.