Grown-Up Christmas List -- Alex and Addison

At age 7, Alex Karev had crafted a letter to Santa detailing his Christmas list because his teacher ordered him to as an assignment.  In it, he asked for three things... a BMX bike, a Star Wars t-shirt and for his dad not to hit his mom anymore.  He wasn't surprised when there was no bike (it took him 12 years and a dozen odd jobs to save up enough to buy his own, but by then, he needed a 10-speed to get to school) and no t-shirt (he never had gotten that; by the time he could afford to buy it himself, he'd stopped believing in heroes like Jedis) and instead spent the day cowering in his room with his baby sister while his parents screamed at one another over who had dropped the turkey on the ground... well, that was all Alex had needed to decide that he was never writing another letter to Santa ever in his life, even if he got a big "F" on his report card.

At age 27, there was little that put Alex into a bad humor like Christmas.  All the damn "peace on Earth" and "goodwill toward men" made him want to hurl.  And this Christmas?  This one sucked absolutely and completely.  He was divorced... divorced and yet still duty-bound because of friendship and history and expectation to stand by his ex-wife, who now lay in a bed in his hospital losing a second battle with the resurgent cancer that was determined to beat her this time.

He was working in Peds full-time now, which was great except for the fact that in no place was the drive for Christmas cheer and holiday magic stronger than in Peds.  Alex forced himself to play along for the kids' sake because they were already sick; the last thing they needed was for his grumpy Grinch-face to spoil their holiday any more.  But every chance he got, he would seek out a quiet corner or an empty on-call room to try and calm the dull ache all the singing and smiling and fake cheer left pulsing in his head.

The silver lining to his night was that Meredith had taken over "cheering up Izzie" duty for the night for some Christmas Eve festivities Alex was sure would make his head explode if he'd been forced to participate.  Instead, he'd volunteered to work the pit with Torres so Lexie could go the party instead, and while he knew that the night could go insane at any moment, right now he was alone outside watching the snow pile upon itself one tiny flake at a time.

If he wished for things anymore, which he didn't, he'd wish for more of this... more of the quiet, more of sitting alone and not thinking about death or all the ways in which love hadn't been enough.  He'd wish for a surgery to soak up his last few hours of the night and then keep him busy in post-op all morning so that he could finish his shift and then sneak off to a dark movie theater where he could watch some make-believe disaster play out on screen, obliterating Christmas in the process.

When his pager went off, Alex sighed, stood up slowly and headed back inside.  As soon as she saw him, Torres waved him toward trauma two.

"Pregnant woman in a slip and fall."

Alex nodded and shed his wet jacket before heading in to check on his new patient.  He was already thinking through the steps he needed to follow for the workup when he heard a familiar voice barking orders to the nurses and intern who already occupied the room.

"Dr. Karev?  Well, I guess there really is a Santa.  I get my favorite resident for Christmas."

Addison smiled at him and Alex made himself blink just to make sure he wasn't still standing outside in the snow having a hallucination.  But the redhead was still there, though the smile was gone, replaced with a concerned gaze as she glanced at the ultrasound.

"Gretchen, the placenta is too badly damaged.  We're going to have to do a c-section."

Their patient, Gretchen Hoffman, immediately began to cry, and Alex stepped to her side, picking up the chart to glance through it before he spoke.

"34 weeks isn't bad, Mrs. Hoffman.  And you're in luck.  Dr. Montgomery here is as good as it gets."

The woman sniffled and nodded, trying to keep her fears at bay.  "And you're her favorite... whatever that word was, right?"

Addison smiled as she turned off the ultrasound and pulled off her gloves.

"Resident, and yes, he's my favorite.  You're in good hands."

Twenty minutes later, they were standing on opposite sides of Gretchen Hoffman while they worked quickly to bring her baby boy into the world before the damaged placenta caused him any permanent harm.  Addison was busy cutting through muscle tissue as Alex watched closely... he never failed to be captivated by how her hands moved in surgery.

"So you're not even going to ask what I'm doing here?"

He looked up and shrugged.

"Sorry.  Distracted by cutting.  What are you doing here?  No Christmas plans in L.A.?"

The way her eyes lit up told him she was smiling even if he couldn't see her mouth behind the mask.

"Oh, I had plans, just not in L.A.  Plans that involve the Four Seasons, massages, champagne, a ridiculously lavish breakfast, lunch and dinner and a great deal of shoe shopping the day after Christmas with Torres.  But then Callie offered to cover the E.R. tonight, so I told her I'd come hang out till she got off and the next thing I know, Gretchen here is wheeled into the E.R. and here we are."

He'd known obviously that Robbins was out of town visiting her family since Arizona was his main attending these days, but he'd had on idea Torres had coaxed his former boss back to the land of eternal rain.

"What about you?"  She asked, breaking his train of thought.  "Any plans?"

Alex shook his head as Addison lifted her eyes and barely caught the motion.  Then she set the scalpel down, her hands disappearing inside of their patient's open abdomen as she set a retractor in place.

"Well, how about you fill your schedule right now with a workup on Baby Boy Hoffman?"

Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Addison had the newborn exposed.  Alex moved quickly, supporting the baby as she clipped the umbilical cord.

"Go."

Her word was spoken emphatically but without stress, and Alex took that as a sign that she was hopeful about the baby's condition.  The little boy let out a squeal a few moments later just after his mouth and nose were cleared, which was a good sign.  But nearly immediately Alex noticed that the baby's breathing was labored.  Suspecting RDS, Alex told Addison he was taking the infant to the NICU for supplemental oxygen and monitoring and he'd left her to finish closing up the mother after receiving his attending's nod of approval.

It was after 9 in the morning when Alex pulled his bag onto his shoulder and headed toward the exit, ready to finally call it a shift.  He stopped only when he spied a certain redhead writing notes in a chart at the nurses' desk.

"So you off to the Four Seasons?"

Addison chuckled and held up a message.

"Torres got a car accident an hour ago in the E.R.  She's busy reconstructing a leg.  Which I guess means my fabulous breakfast is going to be solo... unless I can tempt you?"

He looked at her suspiciously, wondering if someone had put her up to the invitation, but he didn't sense anything but a genuine desire to have some company.

"I'm not really dressed for a place like that."

"Room service doesn't care what you're wearing.  And trust me, after a night of unexpected surgery, I'm ready to put my feet up and relax.  You in?"

The breakfast was amazing, the coffee good, and when she'd opened a bottle of champagne to "put the orange juice to better use," Alex hadn't argued.  Mimosas were girlie drinks, but the buzz a few of the girlie drinks had left behind was quite enjoyable.

"I hate Christmas."

Her words surprised him, and Alex sat up a little straighter in the overstuffed chair that had almost swallowed him whole and looked over where she lay propped up by two pillows on the bed.

"You seem like someone who likes it... a lot."

She laughed.  "I used to.  It used to be my holiday... our holiday.  'Derek and Addison's holiday.'  Then it was the first time Derek ever told me he loved Meredith.  And then it was the day I used to spend with the Shepherds.  And I could've spent it with friends in L.A., but I felt like a fifth wheel because now everyone's all paired up or they have people, and I'm just... me.  So now I hate Christmas."

"Yeah, me too," he offered, but without any real explanation.

"Maybe that's why it went this way then... why the schedule changes and the surgery and the last-minute emergency with Callie.  Maybe I was supposed to spend Christmas with my friend who hates it, too."

She laughed as she finished speaking, and he wondered if she was a little drunk.  He suspected he might be, too, when her next words made him spit out half his own drink.

"I wrote a letter to Santa this year, you know?"

"You what?"

She laughed as he tried to wipe the orange juice and champagne off of his clothes and hands.

"I was helping our midwife out, watching his daughter for a little while, and she asked me to help her write her letter to Santa.  Then she wanted me to write one."

"What did you wish for?" he asked.

He waited for his answer as she rose up from the bed and walked over to make him a new drink with far more champagne than juice filling the glass.  As she set the bottle down, she rocked back and forth from one bare foot to the other, her face suddenly serious.

"For some peace.  You don't know what I'd give for just... a few hours of peace."

But he did know.  And even if he hated that she felt the same way because he didn't want her to feel the way he did, the sense that he wasn't alone overwhelmed him, and Alex sat his glass down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

When she knelt down in front of him, her hand reaching for his, Alex brought his eyes up to meet hers.

"You look so tired, Alex."

He nodded.  "I am.  Some days, I just... I don't know how I can get through one more day.  But I have to, so I just... keep going."

He could see that she understood, that maybe that was exactly what she was doing even in her new life in the sun that was supposed to make it all better.

"Come on."

She pulled on his hand as she stood, moving him up and out of the chair, and when she started toward the bed, Alex felt a lump form in his throat because as much as a part of him would've given anything to lose himself in her, he'd already hurt her once when he didn't have his head on straight.  He didn't want to be that guy again, not when she kept being such a good friend even when he didn't deserve it.

"Addison, I... I'm messed up right now.  I can't..."

She shook her head and smiled.

"You need to sleep.  And I need... to not be alone.  So maybe this is as close to peace as we get right now."

He nodded and pulled off his juice and champagne stained sweatshirt as she walked over to the bathroom and disappeared inside.  In her absence, he nervously pulled the blankets down, then put them back up on his side, thinking that maybe he was supposed to leave a barrier between them.  When she emerged a few minutes later dressed in a Yale t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants, he smiled at how "un-Addison" she looked, and then he laughed as she pulled the blankets back all the way down.

"Like a blanket would stop us if we decided to be bad?  Just get in and go to sleep."

He shrugged and then did as he was told, climbing in and instantly feeling the relief of lying in a well-made bed, his whole body sinking into the expensive mattress and bedding.

When she nudged his arm, he lifted it up and let her slide over so that his chest was now her pillow.  And as Alex felt the pull of sleep taking him out of the moment, he willed himself to memorize this feeling... this moment of not being alone, not being wrong, of not being scared or doubting himself or wondering if he could handle the day.

Maybe it was as close to peace as he could get... but if he made wishes on Christmas, it was exactly what he would've wished for.