#dr-evilspawn

Bitch. The single, venomous word had served as a catalyst in her mind. She was already crumbling under the weight of her life as it stood: complicated surgical schedule, recovering from the physical and emotional toll of an unexpected injury, the hair triggers and unhealthy coping mechanisms that resulted from her inability to consciously process it all---her desire to push it down and bury it. In true ‘Addison’ fashion, it seemed, she’d made a series of questionable choices. Ones she didn’t want to rectify; consequences she refused to accept responsibility for. She’d been blind to her self-destructive tendencies for the short lifetime she’d spent in Seattle, until he had violated the ‘safe’ space she’d created and forced her to truly open her eyes. 

Ugly, angry phrases echoed in her head. They cast sharp shadows across the walls, accented by the sound of shattering glass thrown on her behalf. Everything had been so blissfully quiet before--beautifully numbed by her own willful ignorance. She wanted to go back there, even if just for a minute. Instead, for the first time since coming back to Seattle, she was beginning to doubt herself. It was just an argument, she’d reasoned. It was normal--natural. She was under a lot of stress. So was he. It wasn’t the first time she’d raised her voice. It wasn’t the first time something had been broken out of frustration in her history. They were happy.

But it scared her---even if just a little bit. The memory of her argument with Matthew was accentuated by the phantom, searing sensation that re-ignited on her lips when she thought about that night in its entirety. Alex had started this. Somehow, with his infuriating, impassive nature, and the way he always managed to confront her; to stare through her and cut her so deeply and effortlessly. The way he unapologetically called her on her bullshit. The way he softened and consoled her so tenderly... The way his lips pressed against hers in that moment when she hated him so intensely--but wanted... needed it to happen just as fervently. 

If she never saw Alex again, it would be too soon. How dare he talk about her relationship like he knew the first thing about it. Like he knew what went on in her twisted mind. Like he had some magnificent ability to see what she couldn’t. Addison wasn’t an idiot, and she certainly didn’t need someone to come to her rescue. Even if she had misjudged Matthew, it was her mistake to make. Her fight. Her cross to bear. 

Yet the thought of his kiss kept creeping up from her subconscious mind, and before she could fully intellectualize the thought, she felt the way she ached for him. Her fingers brushed across her bottom lip, chasing the phantom sensation away. She’d kissed him back--if only for a moment. 

She hated him, but she hated herself more. 

Those brief moments where her body betrayed her had been replaying for the past several days as she buried herself deeper and deeper in her work. She rounded on her patients when Alex wasn’t around, seeking solace in obscure areas of the hospital where they wouldn’t have to see one another. She’d have to see him eventually. She knew that, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t avoid him for as long as possible beforehand. At least until she could set her confused emotions aside and treat him as a colleague. Her life--both of theirs, really--were messy. The last thing they needed was another opportunity to tear each other apart.