A/N -- So I promise, I'm working on Who I Am Without You... but ever since I posted Five Times Addison Gets Lucky and people asked for more of the fic with my original character Sam, I've been thinking about Addison paying a visit to the East coast... and so, here it is because we can never have enough happy Addison.




The sigh she heard from her right sounded full of the same breathlessness and satisfaction she was feeling, and Addison turned onto her side to find Sam laying on his back, his head turned so he could look at her.

"What?" she asked.

"It turns out I'm really glad we didn't meet any sooner than we did."

She furrowed her brow and eyed him carefully. "Why is that?"

Sam turned fully on his side and his hand reached out, his fingers gently brushing her hair back off her face.

"Because you would've still been married, so we would've missed out on this. And that would have just been tragic."

Addison rolled her eyes at him, then slid over so she could cuddle against his body.

"You are a wicked man."

"Yes, but you seem to like that about me."

She laughed. "Well, I didn't say it was bad that you were wicked. In fact, I quite enjoy it."

The brush of his lips against her forehead was accompanied by a chuckle Addison felt radiate through Sam's chest. Then his arm wrapped around her and his hand began to lightly draw patterns on her back.

"You tired?"

"Exhausted," she replied honestly. "But the day was well worth it."

"Well, then you should sleep. I'll just lay here and think of new and more wicked ways to ravish you the rest of the weekend."

Addison smiled even as she closed her eyes. She let her left hand rest on his chest as she felt the heavy pull of sleep start to take quick hold of her after what had truly been a long, but incredible day.

It was amazing to think that just seven weeks ago, she had never met Dr. Sam Collier, her counterpart at Johns Hopkins and a surgeon she'd admired from afar for years. And then one random decision, one chance encounter, and Sam had become a part of her life, though certainly that first amazing night, she'd expected him to be nothing more than a fabulous memory.

It was just one night--a few drinks, a shared love of jazz, some top notch room service and several helpings of the best sex Addison had ever had the good fortune to enjoy. And even though he was brilliant and funny and he really did look like her TV crush Tim Daly, still... he lived in another state... across the country. So they had said their good-byes and that was that.

Until he sent the gift... the gift that was a clear invitation to visit, to see if perhaps that one night had the potential to be more. Logic, of course, told her that there was a reason both she and Sam had not made any promises that morning. But logic was easily dismissed by the memory of his hands sliding down her bare back in the shower. So Addison had taken the package--champagne, CDs and the marked travel guide that would lead her straight to Sam's favorite jazz club--to her office, then she had gone on her computer and pulled up the Johns Hopkins staff directory to find his e-mail address.

[i]"Funny thing about those airplanes," she wrote, referencing his comment in the gift card that planes could fly 2,400 miles. "They do seem to go regularly between the West coast and the East. I suppose I might be able to hop on one if you have a free weekend sometime next month."[/i]

By day's end, she received her reply.

[i]"I hear room service at the Four Seasons is fantastic."[/i]

And now Addison was laying in a big bed in a room with a view of Georgetown, not that she'd spared the skyline outside the window much of a glance. From the moment she'd arrived in D.C. for her night of incredible jazz and sensual company, she had been focused solely on Sam... on the way his smile made her stomach flip-flop and the way his touch made her feel wanton and reckless.

She felt no regret over her decision to come East, nor the one that had turned a single sexy night in D.C. into a long weekend. Sam had coaxed her into being his guest at his waterfront Maryland condo for Saturday and Sunday night as they shared one of what had become nightly phone conversations--that particular one taking place while she was soaking in a hot bubble bath sipping at the champagne he'd sent her as part of his gift.

When her nerves had gotten the better of her while she'd been shopping for a new perfect little black dress for tonight, Miranda had given Addison all the encouragement she needed to follow through on the slightly irrational if not completely romantic idea of a rendezvous with her Tim Daly-look-alike lover.

[i]"You are happier just talking to that man on the phone every day than I ever saw you in all the time you were living with Derek Shepherd. So it's impulsive and potentially foolish and you might get hurt? Or it could be the best thing you've ever done for yourself. Either way, I know where he works, so if he gets out of line, you tell him he better look over his shoulder."[/i]

Addison had delivered that warning this afternoon as Sam held her in his arms in the airport. But she knew in her gut that everything was going to be fine... better than fine. And so far, it was much better than fine.

They had checked into the hotel and changed--one in the bathroom, one in the bedroom-so that they weren't tempted to get distracted and miss their reservations at the Blues Alley. When Addison emerged from the bathroom with her makeup and hair refreshed, her body draped in the formfitting little black dress, Sam had stared at her a moment, speechless.

[i]"Okay, seriously... I don't care if Russell Crowe is in this bar tonight, if he comes near you, I'm fighting him for you."[/i]

Rather than reassure him he'd have no competition, even Russell, for her attentions, Addison had decided one kiss before they left couldn't hurt. Which was how they had ended up being twenty minutes late for their reservation after all, but thankfully Sam was very good friends with the owner.

Sam had wanted to surprise her with the performer that evening, and when it turned out to be David Sanborn, one of her favorites, Addison understood why he had campaigned for this weekend over the other two options she'd given him. It had been a very long time since someone had wanted to make a night so perfect for her, and rather than wonder at whether or not it was all too good to be true, the redhead vowed to heed her friend's advice and just see where it all led her.

The night reminded her of their first together in Seattle, except that now they weren't strangers anymore. Now they had inside jokes and Addison knew what the changes in his voice meant... that one amused, that one seductive, that one sweet and endearing, that one tired after a long, hard day in surgery. And she could see that Sam had learned, just from their talks, when she was feeling a sad as they talked about the past; he had also learned how to make her laugh to bring her back to the present.

Undoubtedly, they knew each other's bodies, even after one night, even after weeks of separation. Addison marveled at the self-control they'd shown in only holding hands as they made their way through the lobby and up to their floor once they'd returned to the hotel. But that tenuous bit of restraint had slipped the moment they stepped into their room and shut the world out on the other side.

[i]"Do you remember when I said I'd go if you wanted me to?" Sam asked, his hands already working the zipper on the black silk dress Addison wore.

"I remember being afraid to say anything in case it made you think I wanted you to leave," she replied, her fingers pulling the tie at his neck loose as he gave her a wide grin.

"I was trying so hard to be all grown-up and smooth, but all I was thinking was, 'I'll spend the rest of my life dreaming about this woman if she asks me to leave and I never get to touch her.' Of course, I still dream about you, but now I have a mark for comparison."[/i]

She'd been laughing still as his lips found hers, and then Addison had become completely intoxicated by the man pressed against her, the heady feeling more intense than anything any alcoholic drink could ever cause. It seemed impossible that after one night, she could have missed the feel of his arms around her or the way he kissed her jawline and made her gasp... but she had missed it, missed him, and now laying in bed with his heart beating beneath her cheek, Addison felt the relief of him being there and real beside her as she drifted off to sleep.

She woke to the sensation of Sam's lips pressing a soft kiss against the small of her back.

"Should I go through the new ways to ravish you alphabetically or in random order?"

Addison laughed and turned over, rising up to kiss him.

"Random order, please... I don't want us to become all predictable and boring."

An hour later, they sat wrapped in luxurious hotel bathrobes, eating a room service breakfast of eggs, coffee and Pecan and Golden Raisin Brioche French Toast with Orange-Scented Butter. And that was when the dreaded sound of a cell phone penetrated their romantic haven.

"I swear, I'm going to kill someone," Sam said, rising up to retrieve his phone. "I really did tell them all to call me under penalty of death this weekend."

"You can't kill anyone," she said as she reached over and playfully stabbed a large bite of the eggs on his plate. "That caller is my partner in the theft of your eggs."

"You had your own eggs, Egg Thief!"

Addison giggled, and then she laughed harder at that unfamiliar sound coming out of her mouth. "I know, but I wanted more, and yours looked so good."

"Whoever this is," Sam said, turning his attention to the cell phone, "remember, penalty of death, especially now that my eggs got stolen."

He smiled slightly at whatever the caller said, but then Addison saw his face grow more serious.

"How do the lungs look?" he asked. Sam listened for a few moments, and then he sighed and gave her an apologetic look.

"No, no, you were right to call. Yeah, no, let me speak to her."

Sam turned the mouthpiece of the phone behind his ear.

"I'm sorry. It's this preemie I've got who just seems to get one infection after the other. Her parents have been through the wringer, and she had a low fever this morning, so they're panicking a bit."

"And they need a little reassurance," Addison said, "I understand."

"I'll make it up to you."

Addison took a sip of her coffee, then shook her head. "Would you stop? I know the drill. I do get these calls all the time, too, you know?"

He started to speak, but a voice on the phone pulled his attention away.

"Mrs. Hunter, how you doing?"

You can tell a lot about the type of person a doctor is by how they talk to a worried patient. Addison realized, in retrospect, that she should have picked up years ago on the impatience and lack of flexibility Derek showed with the people he treated. It might have saved her a great deal of heartache to have accepted those aspects of his personality as a given early on. And with Mark, his interaction with his patients had been part of the attraction. As gruff and rude as he could be with most people, even his friends, he was capable of a level of empathy with his patients that told you there was more to him than the face he showed the world.

Sam was calm with Mrs. Hunter, taking the time to explain why it was actually good news that her little girl Molly had been able to fight off the small fever all on her own without any medication. It meant her immune system was getting stronger, which meant she was getting better, and he was careful to deliver the explanation plainly, not bogging the worried mother down with medical jargon. When he laughed and made a joke about Molly charming the boys in the NICU, Addison couldn't help but smile.

This man was a good man... and for the weekend, at least, he was all hers.

"All right, Mrs. Hunter, you tell Molly I'll see her Monday afternoon, and you get some rest, okay? All right, bye-bye."

Sam closed his cell and sighed. "Mrs. Hunter said to tell anyone I might have been ignoring to take her call that she apologizes for the interruption."

"Everything's okay, though?"

He poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and, noticing Addison's cup was empty, he refilled hers as well.

"Everything is okay, and thankfully Molly rebounded all on her own, so I don't have to drag you into the hospital because, of course, if I had to go in, I was totally taking you with so everyone could burn with jealousy."

Addison rolled her eyes in an attempt to look put off by his remark, but the laugh she couldn't stifle ruined the effect.

"I'd have gone, but I would've been using you just to get a peek at your unit."

"You've seen my unit," he said, his expression beyond suggestive.

"You are so bad!" Addison threw her napkin at him, grazing his face. "Your NICU, smart-ass. And just for that, when I do finally get a look, I intend to take copious notes so I can brag to Richard about how much better mine is than yours."

Still wearing his devilish grin, Sam rose from his seat and pulled Addison out of her chair and back with him onto the bed.

"I'm going to pass up that golden opportunity for sarcasm and just randomly select another method of ravishment. Perhaps that'll distract you from thinking about my unit."

Again his kiss drowned out her laughter and then it extinguished it, drawing forth a gasp instead.

It was just after noon when Sam maneuvered his sedan into a parking spot outside what was clearly a fairly new condo complex in Annapolis, Maryland. The marina was filled with an assortment of sailing, fishing and speedboats, and the waterfront provided a breathtaking view.

"So which one is yours?" Addison asked, motioning toward the marina as Sam pulled her suitcase and his overnight bag from the trunk.

"You can't see her at this angle, but there's a view of my slip from the balcony," he explained as they walked toward the building he'd told her was his. "I figured I'd make us some lunch and then maybe we'd take a little sail if you're up for it."

The way he mentioned taking her sailing reminded Addison of the way he'd spoken about jazz the night they met. It was clearly something he had a passion for, and she felt no reservations about joining him.

"Sounds good to me," she said, "so long as you feed me first. I get very cranky when I'm not fed regularly."

"Are you trying to suggest I wouldn't like you cranky?"

Addison lifted an eyebrow as Sam worked the key in his front door. "I'm a redhead who wears 4-inch stilettos. I don't do cranky attractively."

He laughed and opened the door, stepping aside so she could pass him and head inside.

"Then I guess it's good I stocked the fridge before I left yesterday. And welcome to my home."

As he closed the door and settled their bags in the entry, Addison scanned her surroundings. She'd never been a fan of brand-new architecture, but thankfully Sam had offset the newness with a sense of classic style. The furnishings in the living room were decidedly masculine, especially the oversized leather chair she had no trouble seeing him sitting in, his long legs stretched out to the ottoman, while he read over medical journals at night. But he hadn't taken the look too far, suffocating the brightness in the room with all dark wood and muted earth tones. Instead, there was a mix of woods in the room, some antique, some new, all in different shades, creating a balance in the room that felt finished and inviting.

"So nothing's making you want to run scared, right?"

There was a hint of nervousness in his voice and Addison turned and gave him a flirty wink.

"So far, so good."

Sam smiled and reached for her hand. "Well, then let's brave the rest, shall we?"

The rest included a state-of-the-art kitchen that Sam cluttered by pulling out the ingredients he was planning to use for lunch as he told her about the room's design. Next, they headed back through the entry, and he picked up her suitcase, bringing it with him to the next room, which was one of his two guest rooms.

"I figured you might want to hang some stuff up, and this closet's empty. I'm gonna go on record, too, as pointing out that the bed in here sucks, so you definitely want to sleep in my room."

The tour paused there in the guest room for the duration of two rather intoxicating kisses.

"Speaking of my room," Sam said as he moved to the door, his hand pulling gently on hers, "it is right over here."

He led her to an expansive master suite furnished with a king-sized arts-and-crafts style maple bed and several complimentary pieces that, like the living room, went together but weren't too matchy-matchy and showed a definite point of view in how the room was put together.

When she heard Sam laugh as she looked around the room, Addison glanced behind her. He shook his head, walked forward and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I bought that bedding over a year ago," he explained, pointing out the green, gold and cream colored quilt that neatly covered the bed. "I was in the cafeteria and one of my friends had a catalog they were looking at and I saw that and just had to order it."

"It's gorgeous," she said.

"The design is called 'Addison'."

She pushed away from him a bit and turned her head toward him.

"You're making that up."

Sam laughed. "I'm not, I swear. I forgot till just now, but I swear, I'm not making it up. I'll show it to you on the web site. After I feed you, of course. We have a no cranky redheads policy in this house."

"Well, then I suggest you kiss the redhead again before you go off to make her lunch."

He kissed her twice, just for "extra insurance against the cranky."

After stopping to drop off her coat and purse in the guest room and taking the time to hang up some of the clothes she had brought, Addison wandered into the kitchen and was met with the aroma of cumin. Her stomach growled.

"Okay, so you're handsome, you're great in bed, you're a brilliant doctor and you can cook," she said as she slid onto one of the stools that sat to the side of Sam's immense kitchen island. "You better tell me something bad about yourself before I start thinking I made you up and this is all some drug-induced fantasy."

"Only one thing?" he asked, stopping to kiss her cheek before he moved off to wash some salad greens at the sink. "Because I guarantee you, my ex can provide you with a list of at last a hundred things that are wrong with me, starting with me being 'boring,' moving on to me being 'selfish' and hitting its high point somewhere around her deciding I'm the worst lover she's ever had. You can imagine, the last one took me a bit by surprise seeing as how, up until that point, I'd been under the impression I was the only lover she'd ever had."

Addison cringed at Sam's last comment, but he seemed to take it as a reaction to his story rather than realizing she was just ashamed at being reminded of the breaking point in her own marriage.

"So what about you?" he asked as he moved back to the stove to stir the heavenly-scented concoction he'd made in a sauté pan.

"What about me what?"

"If I can't be perfect anymore, neither can you. So spill it... what are the deep, dark secrets your ex would tell me about you?"

She was tempted to joke her way out of the moment. She knew she could. But as much as Addison wanted to keep the excitement and playfulness of their weekend going, her mind was already playing out some future possible moment wherein Sam found out about her past with Derek and Mark and wondered why she had hidden it from him, especially now that he'd told her about his ex-wife's cheating. So she took a deep breath and shrugged.

"He's all happy and 'in love' with his intern now, so... he'd probably just tell you I was an adulterous bitch and leave it at that."

The fact that she couldn't read his face made a knot start to build in Addison's stomach, and she let her eyes drop to the countertop. A few moments later, she felt Sam's hand press gently against her left cheek, and she reluctantly raised her gaze to meet his.

"You know what I'd say to Derek Shepherd if he said that to me?"

Addison shook her head.

"The same thing I say to myself when I get sanctimonious about my wife's affairs... where the hell were you when your wife was getting so lonely she found a way to justify cheating on you?"

She stood and wrapped her arms around him, Sam returning the embrace just as strongly.

"If you are a drug-induced fantasy," she said, her voice soft, a little choked from the overwhelming sensation of security she felt in that moment, "then you are, by far, the best fantasy I have ever had."

They ate the Southwestern chicken and vegetables Sam had made for lunch at the table on his balcony, and while they ate, he pointed out his boat Parker's Mood, named for his favorite Charlie "Bird" Parker piece. An hour later, they were aboard and heading out for a late afternoon sail.

This shared adventure brought back a host of memories for Addison. Her father had loved to sail, and some of the best weekends of her childhood had been those when just the two of them had taken Little Red out at sunrise and not docked until the sun was just about to disappear from sight.

The recollections were happy ones, but the sadness that inevitably accompanied any thought of William Montgomery pushed Addison's shoulders into a slump as she drew her arms around herself in a protective movement. She hadn't realized, though, how obvious the shift in her mood must have been until Sam came up behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder as he pulled her body against his.

"Where'd you go just now?"

She sighed and leaned back against him as the motion of the waves against the anchored boat left her feeling unsteady

"My dad had a great masthead sloop like this. He always promised to teach me to sail when I got big enough. He even had a model of it made for me so I could learn to name all the different parts of the boat, and he'd quiz me every time we took her out."

"I bet little you on a boat with all those pretty red curls was adorable."

Addison smiled slightly and turned her head so she could see Sam's face.

"Daddy always thought so. I think me on the boat was the Christmas card photo every year for the first five years I was alive."

She felt his arms tighten around her before he spoke his next question.

"How old were you when you lost him?"

"Seven." Addison felt a sharp pain in her throat as it tightened. "He had an undiagnosed aneurysm, and it just... My mother sold the boat a few weeks after he died. But I always loved them, you know? Derek and I must have talked about buying one a hundred times, but we never seemed to get around to it. But it's good to be back out on the water again. I forgot how nice it is to just surrender to the elements for a while."

Sam eased her around so that she was facing him, his hands sitting on either side of her waist.

"I didn't buy this one till after my divorce. I'd had access to a boat my whole life growing up--my dad's, my uncles, friends, and then a little one of my own, but Joan didn't like sailing, and so I just... stopped while we were married."

Addison nodded. There were things you just resigned yourself to for the sake of your marriage, sacrifices made because you loved the other person so much, it made sense at the time. She also knew that sometimes, it was all for nothing because in the end, no sacrifice was big enough to keep you together.

"Do you ever wonder if you should have known?" she asked. "Like if there was a point, say you selling your boat because Joan didn't like it, when you should have realized that no matter how much you loved her, it wasn't going to work?"

Sam sighed. "Sometimes I think I did know. But could I have walked away then? I loved her. I sold my boat for her... so I guess I thought it was worth trying, worth hoping something would change. It just didn't."

"I knew when I went to Seattle," Addison admitted. "I knew because I told Derek when he walked out on me in New York that we wouldn't survive if he left. I'm not sure why I had to try again except, I guess, so I'd know I had."

He moved into her and pulled her in a tight embrace.

"His loss is my gain."

They sailed back toward the marina as the sun began its daily descent, and after docking, they walked back to the condo hand in hand. Passing the guest room she was essentially using as a closet, Addison entered the master, kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed before laying back and letting out a deep breath. Sam plopped down beside her, his body supported by one elbow.

"Tired?"

She shook her head. "Just... content. I sort of forgot what it felt like. It's surprisingly wonderful."

A wide grin spread across Sam's face, and her stomach flip-flopped. She felt a familiar internal debate begin as his hand dropped to her stomach and gently began to work her shirt up so he could touch bare skin.

[i]'It's too soon, Addie. You can't be this wrapped up in a man this soon. Don't get too invested. Don't need too much. It's too soon.'[/i]

The little voice chirped in her head every day... sometimes when she woke and her first thought was of Sam, sometimes after one of their late-night phone conversations when neither of them wanted to say good-bye.

The little voice was almost always met by a louder, stronger voice that sounded a lot like Miranda Bailey's.

[i]"It's okay to be happy, Addison. You get to move on, too, and there's no schedule of when or with whom. Just try it. You remember how to do happy, don't you?"[/i]

Sam's breath sent ripples across her now fully exposed stomach, and Addison let out a gasp followed by a giggle.

"Did that tickle?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," she answered, her voice decidedly seductive. "Why don't you try it again so I can decide?"

He did, and it didn't tickle, and evening turned to night as Sam placed kisses all over her body and Addison used her hands to map the planes of his muscles from head to toe. The king size bed was, as advertised, very comfortable, but she barely noticed until finally, exhausted, they lay snuggled together, her back to his chest.

"You were right," she said, "this is a good bed. Very comfy."

"See, I told you. Of course, there's no room service here, so I'm afraid if we're going to eat again, I have to get up and go to the kitchen."

Addison laughed and turned. She leaned in as if she was going to kiss him, but instead, she gave him a strong shove and pushed him out of bed.

"Hey!" Sam looked at her from where he now sat on the floor, but the expression on his face was playful and, she thought, a tiny bit dangerous. "What was that for?"

"Hi, remember warnings about cranky, hungry redheads?"

"Oh, right," he said, his tall frame pulling up to a standing position. "You know what I forgot when you told me that?"

"What?" Addison asked, her own form easing toward the edge of the bed because she had a feeling she as about to be in trouble.

"The best cure for cranky redheads isn't food... it's tickling."

She dove from the bed, racing toward the door, but he caught her and spun her back around. The tickling was merciless, and Addison's breath started to come in gasps from laughing and trying to defend herself.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I am no longer cranky, I promise!"

Sam leaned down and kissed her, his lips taking a long draught from hers before he finally sat back and looked down at her.

"Well, now that cranky is cured, we can deal with hungry."

Minutes later, Addison sat in her bathrobe sipping a glass of wine, watching as Sam prepared a pasta dish for dinner. They slipped into one of the typical conversations they shared during their phone calls, this time about what would be the most romantic sailing trip you could go on if you could go anywhere in the world. By the time they had reached mutual agreement on the seductive nature of the Greek Islands, dinner was ready.

When they finished eating, Sam cleared their plates and then moved to the fridge. When he asked Addison to close her eyes, she gave him a wary look.

"No tickling, I promise... unless you ask."

She laughed and let her lids fall. The refrigerator opened and then, a moment later, closed, and Sam told her she could open her eyes.

"Give me five minutes, okay?"

It was obvious he had something hidden behind his back, but she decided the wondering about what he was up to was more fun than trying to uncover his surprise. She nodded, and after he backed out of the room, careful to keep his secret hidden, she slipped from the stool and quickly washed up the plates and silverware Sam had set in the sink. When she was sure the required time delay had passed, Addison headed out into the hall. Finding no Sam in the living room, she made her way back to the bedroom. She felt slightly frustrated when she found no Sam there either.

"Where am I supposed to find you in five minutes?" she called out.

"Bathroom," she heard him say, and Addison headed toward the master bath. When she opened the door, she couldn't help but grin at the sight she found--Sam in the large and now bubble-filled Jacuzzi tub, with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and two glasses sitting on the edge.

"We've taken so many of these together on the phone, I figured, why not try it in person?"

"Why not indeed," she replied, her fingers working the tie on her robe as she walked toward the bathtub.

*****

She hated airport good-byes more than almost any other, and Addison had tried to get Sam to let her take a cab so they could avoid this, but he'd insisted. And so at just after 8:00 on Monday morning, Addison stood staring at her hands while the sound of the busy terminal filled the air around them.

They had been careful not to fill the weekend with too many plans, hoping that playing it be ear would make it last longer, and it felt like their strategy had worked for the most part. After Saturday night's luxurious and sexy bath, they had returned to bed, exhausting themselves finally to the point that sleep was the only option. Sunday morning they had slept in, rising only when hunger demanded it. Sam made blueberry pancakes, and then they had read the Sunday paper together, her seated in his lap in the big brown leather chair in his living room.

It was a day that could've proven how ill-suited they were when they stopped thinking about how much they wanted each other on what seemed a constant basis, but it had proven instead that Addison and Sam had a natural ability to just be together. They didn't need to plan every moment, voice every opinion, and the silences that fell between them were comfortable and easy. They had just spent the day doing what seemed right in the moment--making love again, this time in the shower, taking a walk through downtown, randomly picking a cute little bistro that Sam had never been to for their lunch stop.

They made their way home and settled down for a nap, the long weekend catching up with them both, and Sam's last words before he'd drifted off was that they should order in for dinner and stay in bed the rest of the day. And that's exactly what they had done, resting, talking, laughing, making love... and the later it had become, the closer it came to time for her to leave, Addison was both relieved and frightened to feel Sam reacting the same way that she was... each embrace growing tighter, each caress lasting longer.

"This was..." Sam paused and then shrugged. "I feel like anything I say about how great it was will sound stupid, but it was..."

Addison nodded and finally looked up at him. "It was."

They just stared at each other, neither sure what to say. Then finally, though his voice was unsteady, Sam spoke again.

"This is... I mean, it's too soon for this, right? It's too soon for me to not want you to leave?"

She could have cried at his words, but she laughed instead.

"It's too soon... which doesn't at all explain why I feel like I either don't want to go or do want to ask you to come with me. Which is insane."

Sam sighed. "We're both nuts, totally certifiable."

"Clearly," she agreed.

"Okay, so I have to let you go, and you have to go... so let's... let's just agree that it's too soon to do otherwise, but... not too soon for me to ask if it's okay for me to come to Seattle... soon."

Addison stepped toward him and wrapped her arms tightly around him, her hands resting flat against Sam's back.

"You're welcome anytime. You're wanted... anytime."

They kissed then, the act as much a promise of the next time as it was a good-bye to this one. And then reluctantly, as Addison heard her boarding call over the P.A., she pulled back. It wasn't worth pretending that she wasn't sad to be leaving him, that she wasn't already anxious about when she might be this close to him again, and if it made her crazy, than she was. But still, she couldn't stand to have the last sight of him be the sad face she knew mirrored her own. So Addison stopped a few steps away from him and turned back.

"And next time you come to Seattle, maybe I'll let you see my unit."

He smiled wide, remembering their teasing conversation from earlier in the weekend.

"Oh, I've seen your unit, Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd. Top-notch stuff there."

Though she'd baited him into the double entendre, Addison pretended to give him a scolding look. "You have a dirty mind, Dr. Collier."

"And I'm bringing it with me to Seattle," he replied. "That's a promise."

Twelve hours later, after she'd been summoned via page after barely unpacking her bag, Addison walked through the doors of Seattle Grace, where her patient had gone into labor with the baby in breech position. She had just changed into her scrubs and was securing her hair in a ponytail when Miranda rounded the corner and stood staring at her, arms crossed.

"What?"

Miranda's lips curled upward and she gave a nod of approval. "You had a good weekend."

Addison knew she was blushing as she reached back into her locker for her cap.

"It was a very good weekend, yes."

"Glad to hear it. Now go deliver that baby and then find me after and I'll buy you coffee and you can tell me when exactly I'm going to meet this Sam Collier so I can see if he passes muster."

Smiling, Addison followed her friend out of the locker room as she made a mental note to tell Sam that she wasn't the only woman in Seattle counting the days until he made his way West once again.

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