Chapter Text
Elevator to love
Chapter 1
Hour 0
This is probably fine
At exactly 7:12 am, Meredith Grey decided the universe hated her personally. Not in a dramatic way. Not in the way Izzie would say it, hands waving while violins played in the background of her imagination. Meredith meant it clinically. Objectively. Scientifically.
The universe hated her.
Because first:
- Her alarm had failed.
Second:
- Cristina had stolen the last bagel
Third:
- Seattle rain had soaked through her sneakers before she even made it inside the hospital.
And fourth, perhaps most offensively of all:
- Addison Montgomery was standing inside the elevator holding two coffees and looking devastatingly beautiful before seven-thirty in the morning.
Meredith stopped short in the elevator doorway. Addison looked up. There was a beat, a long one. The kind of silence that happened only between people with history they technically shouldn’t have.
“Well,” Addison said finally, dry and elegant, “this feels ominous.”
Meredith snorted despite herself and stepped inside. “You think everything feels ominous.”
“That’s because I’m usually correct.”
The doors slid shut behind her. Too close, too small, too early. Meredith leaned against the opposite wall and avoided looking directly at Addison, which was difficult because Addison Montgomery occupied space like she’d personally invented confidence.
Perfect red hair tied back neatly. Tailored navy scrubs. White coat. Wedding ring still absent. That last part, Meredith hated noticing. She hated noticing anything about Addison.
Which was a lie. She noticed everything. That was the problem. The elevator hummed upward. Fourth floor. Fifth.
Addison held out one of the coffees suddenly. “Peace offering.”
Meredith eyed it suspiciously. “Are you poisoning me?”
“Yes. Slowly. Over months. Very elaborate plan.”
Meredith took the coffee. Their fingers brushed. Warm, brief. Still enough to send something uncomfortable down Meredith’s spine. God. This was why she avoided elevators with Addison. Avoided hallways. Avoided eye contact. Avoided standing too close during surgeries.
Because somewhere between Addison arriving in Seattle and Derek ruining everyone’s lives equally, Meredith had developed an extremely inconvenient awareness of Addison Montgomery.
Not attraction. Definitely not that. Just— awareness.
Like knowing fire was hot. Or knowing elevators occasionally trapped people and killed them in terrible action movies.
The elevator jerked violently. Meredith grabbed the railing automatically. The lights flickered. Then steadied.
“Oh good,” Addison said lightly. “That’s reassuring.”
Meredith glared at the ceiling. “Don’t joke about it.”
“About elevators?”
“About dying.”
Addison looked at her then. Really looked at her. Not attending-to-intern looked. Not Derek’s-wife looked. Not polite-coworker looked. Just… looked.
“You really think dramatically for someone who pretends not to.”
Meredith took a sip of coffee. “I’m a surgeon. We all think dramatically.”
“Fair point.”
The elevator continued upward another floor. Then—
Stopped. Hard.
The coffee sloshed over the edge of Meredith’s cup onto her hand. The lights flickered again. Then stayed on.
Silence. Absolute silence.
Meredith blinked. Addison pressed the emergency stop button once experimentally.
Nothing happened. “Well,” she said. “That’s not ideal.”
Meredith stared at the unmoving doors. “Nope.”
Addison hit the emergency call button. Static crackled. Then a bored male voice answered. “Maintenance.”
“Yes, hi,” Addison said smoothly. “We’re stuck in elevator three between six and seven.”
Pause.
“Oh yeah. We know.”
Meredith frowned immediately. “You know?”
“Power issue. Engineering’s working on it.”
“How long?” Meredith asked sharply.
Static again.
“Hopefully not too long.”
The line died. Meredith stared at the speaker. Addison stared too.
Then both women spoke simultaneously.
“Hopefully?” Meredith snapped.
“That’s comforting,” Addison muttered.
Silence settled again. Not hostile exactly. But strange.
Meredith shifted against the wall and took another drink of coffee. Okay. Fine. This was fine. Elevators got stuck all the time. They’d be out in ten minutes. Fifteen max. she could survive fifteen minutes with Addison Montgomery. Probably.
Addison leaned beside the control panel and crossed her arms loosely.
“You know,” she said, “most people would consider free coffee and uninterrupted sitting a vacation at this hospital.”
“We can’t sit.”
“Why not?”
“Because elevator floors are disgusting.”
Addison looked down thoughtfully. “That’s fair actually.”
Meredith tried not to smile. Failed a little. Addison noticed. Of course, she noticed.
“So, you do smile.”
“Sometimes.”
“I was beginning to think it was a myth perpetuated by Karev.”
“Alex says I smile?”
“Oh, constantly. Usually, while deeply terrified of you.”
Meredith barked out a laugh before she could stop herself.
Addison looked smug. “That one almost looked genuine.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Tragic.”
The elevator hummed softly around them. Still unmoving. Meredith checked the floor indicator again. Nothing. Seven. Frozen. She shifted her weight. The air suddenly felt warmer. Not hot. Just… still. Too still.
Addison loosened her ponytail slightly. “Okay, maybe it’s a little warm in here.”
Meredith nodded quickly. “Yep.”
“It’s probably temporary.”
“Yep.”
“Definitely temporary.”
“Mmhm.”
Addison looked over carefully. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You answered too fast.”
“I’m literally fine.”
The elevator creaked faintly. Meredith’s stomach dropped. Not rationally. Physically. Her fingers tightened around the coffee cup.
The walls suddenly looked closer than they had thirty seconds ago. Ridiculous. She knew that. Objectively. Elevators were safe. Statistically safer than cars. She knew that too. It didn’t matter.
Addison must have noticed the shift in her face because her tone softened. “Grey.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You’re gripping that cup like it insulted your mother.”
Meredith forced her hand to loosen.
“Oh look,” Addison said gently. “Tiny progress.”
Meredith exhaled sharply through her nose. The elevator stayed still. Too still.
“How long do you think?” Meredith asked.
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
Addison tilted her head. “Hospital maintenance? Could be an hour.”
Meredith laughed once. Short. Disbelieving. “An hour?!”
“Maybe less.”
“An hour?”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“Because that’s insane.”
Addison’s eyes narrowed slightly. Not judgmental. Assessing. “Do elevators bother you?”
“No.”
Another creak. Meredith swallowed. Addison watched carefully now. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Grey.”
“I said no.”
“Meredith.”
That stopped her. Addison almost never called her Meredith. Not unless something was serious. Meredith looked over. Addison’s expression had changed completely. Gentler somehow. Less sharp around the edges.
“You can tell me,” Addison said quietly.
And God, that almost made it worse. Because Meredith didn’t want kindness from Addison. Didn’t want concern. Didn’t want those stupid observant eye seeing things Meredith herself tried not to see.
“I’m not scared of elevators,” Meredith said finally.
Added nodded once. “Okay.”
“But I don’t like being trapped.”
There. Technically true. Addison didn’t push. Which somehow made Meredith keep talking.
“my mom used to lock herself in the operating room for hours after bad cases.” Meredith stared at the numbers above the door instead of Addison. “Or lock me out of the house if she was writing.”
Addison stayed silent. Listening. Not interrupting.
“And one time,” Meredith continued quietly, “I got stuck in a freezer at school.”
Addison’s face changed instantly. “How old were you?”
“Eight.”
Jesus. Why was she telling Addison this?
“Someone closed the door as a joke,” Meredith muttered. “It jammed.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Long enough.”
Addison looked furious. Not pitying. Furious.
“Are you angry?”
Addison stayed silent, but her eyes were nearly fire.
“At children?” Meredith asked dryly.
“At whoever left you there.”
Meredith shrugged. “It was fine.”
“It clearly wasn’t.”
The elevator seemed smaller now. The air heavier. Meredith tugged absentmindedly at the collar of her scrub top.
Addison noticed that too. Of course she did. “You’re getting flushed.”
“I’m warm.”
“You’re anxious.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re saying that a lot.”
Meredith laughed weakly. Because she was. Because the walls were definitely closer now. Or maybe she was imagining that. Her breathing felt strange suddenly. Too shallow. Not enough air.
The elevator gave another tiny mechanical groan. Meredith’s heart kicked hard against her ribs. Okay. No. Nope. Still fine. Still manageable.
Addison pushed gently away from the wall. “Hey.”
Meredith focused on her automatically.
“Look at me.”
“I am looking at you.”
“Actually look at me.”
Meredith did. And immediately regretted it a little because Addison looked unfairly calm. Steady. Grounded.
Like someone who knew exactly what to do in emergencies. Which she probably did. ‘She’s a neonatal surgeon,’ Meredith’s brain supplied helpfully. ‘She handles collapsing babies for a living.’ Great. Now Meredith felt insane.
“You’re okay,” Addison said softly.
The elevator suddenly felt very, very warm. Meredith nodded too fast. “Yep.”
Addison studied her for another second. Then deliberately changed the subject.
“So,” she said so casually, “if we die in here, I’d like it noted that Seattle Grace coffee finally succeeded where decades of medicine failed.”
Meredith laughed despite herself. Again.
“That coffee isn’t strong enough to kill anyone.”
“You underestimate hospital coffee.”
“You underestimate human resilience.”
“Oh, now there’s optimism. Should I document this historic occasion?”
Meredith rolled her eyes. The motion helped slightly, grounded her.
Addison smiled a little. And there it was again. That horrible awareness. Because Addison’s real smile wasn’t polished or glamorous or intimidating like the one she used in meetings.
It was crooked. Warm. Unexpected. It made Meredith’s chest feel weird.
The elevator remained stubbornly still. Minutes crawled. Meredith checked the numbers again. Nothing. No movement. No sound from outside. Just fluorescent lights and stale air and Addison standing six feet away smelling faintly like expensive shampoo and coffee.
Meredith shifted again. Her heartbeat wouldn’t settle properly.
“You know,” Addison said conversationally, “this is probably the universe punishing Derek somehow.”
Meredith snorted. “How exactly?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’m sure it circles back to him.”
“Fair.”
Addison looked pleased. “That’s the first time we’ve agreed on anything.”
“We’ve agreed on lots of things.”
“Name one.”
Meredith opened her mouth.
Paused. “… Okay, maybe not lots.”
“Exactly.”
Another silence. Less awkward now. Still strange. Meredith leaned her head briefly against the wall behind her. The metal felt cool. Helpful.
Addison watched her carefully again. Too carefully. “You really hate this,” she said quietly.
Meredith inhaled slowly. The breath caught halfway down. Damn it. “I just want the doors open.”
“They will open.”
“How do you know?”
“Because hospitals can’t function with two surgeons trapped in an elevator forever.”
Meredith tried to breathe normally. Tried. The air felt thinner now. Or maybe hotter. Or maybe— no. No no no.
Not now. Not in front of Addison.
Her fingers started tingling slightly around the coffee cup. Great. Fantastic.
Addison noticed immediately. Her voice lowered. “Meredith.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not.”
The elevator creaked again. Meredith’s pulse spiked hard enough to make her dizzy. The walls suddenly looked terrifyingly close. Too close. Way too close. Her lungs refused to pull in a full breath.
Addison took one careful step closer. “Hey.”
“I’m fine.”
“Meredith.”
“I said—”
Her voice cracked. Oh God. Embarrassing.
Addison’s entire expression softened instantly. “No, hey,” she said gently. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend.”
Meredith looked away sharply. Because panic was humiliating enough already without Addison seeing it happen in real time.
The elevator suddenly felt tiny. The ceiling lower. The air hotter. She tugged at her scrub collar again. Her heartbeat thundered painfully now. Too fast. Way too fast.
Addison moved closer carefully. Not touching. Just closer. “Talk to me.”
Meredith shook her head once. “I can’t breathe right.”
Okay. That one slipped out accidentally.
Addison’s face changed immediately. Professional now. Calm. Focused. “Okay,” she said softly. “Okay, I need you to look at me.”
Meredith tried. Really tried. But the walls were moving. Not actually moving, just— closing. The elevator was closing.
“I can’t —”
“Yes you can.”
Meredith’s breath came faster. Shallower. Humiliating.
Addison stepped fully into her space now. “Meredith.”
“I know this is stupid—”
“It’s not stupid.”
“I’m not claustrophobic.”
“You don’t need a label for it.”
The elevator groaned again. Meredith flinched hard.
And that was the exact moment Addison realized this was becoming a real problem. Because all humor vanished from her face.
“Okay,” Addison said quietly. “We’re not doing this alone anymore.”
*
*
*
End of chapter 1