MerAdd Oneshots

I'm dying

I never really liked her.

She wasn't a likeable person; she had a fiery attitude and she didn't mind showing it. She wasn't quiet, she said what she wanted and didn't give a damn what anyone thought. Confidence radiated from her, and I suppose, that's why I didn't like her.

She was the woman every guy fell in love with, the woman who stole men and ruined relationships. No matter how much I loved Derek, I couldn't compete with her. Compared to her confident beauty, I was a mousy little kid which was nothing to be impressed by.

So no, I never wanted to be her friend. It happened on a whim, by accident even, but it happened.

I was going to the washroom, it was just after lunch and my day wasn't even close to being over. I was exhausted already, but still excited to see what else the day had to offer, when I saw her standing in front of the sink, crying so hard she shook.

It was natural, in all the movies you think it would be weird, awkward, unwelcome, but seeing her there crying I didn't know what to do. So, naturally, I walked over and I placed my arms around her the way I would do for a friend. It didn't matter what was wrong, I just knew I wanted to help her.

"I'm sorry" she chokes out, once she's calmed down. I don't take my arms from around her yet, strangely I don't want to. I just rest my head on her shoulder and feel the rise and fall of her chest against me.

"I'm a mess, you don't need to be here, you can go. I don't want to put you in an awkward position" she told me "it's not like we're friends" that part was true; I barely said two words to her outside of work, and now I was suddenly hugging her.

I liked to think that's what good people did when they saw someone crying, but maybe it was just because I wasn't used to seeing such a strong woman so vulnerable.

"Maybe its better that I'm not your friend" I tell her, not moving "maybe you need to talk to someone who doesn't really know you, who doesn't have a connection with you. Friends are sometimes hard to open up to when they expect you to be a certain way, the way you've always been"

I knew that firsthand; sometimes it was hard to tell anyone anything. When I was hurting, it was hard to open up to friends. They all knew I was strong, they expected me to be strong, and I didn't want them to look at me differently.

She pulls away, and closes her eyes. Inhaling a deep breath, she steadies herself on the counter behind her, knuckles going white with the grip she's got.

"Stage four metastatic pancreatic cancer" is all she says.

"Addison, do you have cancer?" I say slowly, hoping maybe she'd tell me it was a patient and not her. Hoping maybe she'd tell me she wasn't the one with this cancer, that it was somebody, anybody, else.

"I'm dying" she says firmly, her eyes glossing over as they meet my own. My stomach drops, and my mouth goes dry. I don't know what to say, I don't know if there is anything to be said. We weren't friends, but that didn't mean I wanted her to die.

"How bad?" Is all I can manage to squeak out. I knew stage four metastatic pancreatic cancer was always fatal; less than 1% of patients with it live a year after diagnosis.

"It's spread to my liver and my lungs. My prognosis is about three months untreated, eight if I do intensive chemotherapy. Maybe even less. It doesn't look very good" she rubs her eyes with the back of her hands and sighs "I'm starting chemo this week, I'll have to take time off work. I don't know what I'm going to tell Richard, but I don't want anyone to know about this"

The thought of her doing this all alone was quite frankly very depressing. So, I suppose that's why I said what I did next.

"Come stay with me" I blurt out "I know we're not friends but I'm a doctor and you're gonna be in rough shape. You can't be alone through all of this"