The most fucked-up thing about it, Pete decided, was that in reality he barely knows Addison at all. He knows she's an old friend of Sam and Naomi's from med school. He knows she's a world-class neo-natal surgeon; that little piece of trivia was established early on and often. He knows she's awkward when nervous, arrogant when questioned, and merciless when damaged idiots stand her up for sex. Tiny babies break her heart far too easily for someone in her profession and seeing that pain kind of makes his heart break too (he'll never say a word).

Most days Pete wishes he never said they should stop kissing because that's exactly what did happen and now every time he sees her hands apply a healing touch of their own he can feel the memory of them pulling on his neck. The rest of the time he wishes they had never started kissing to begin with because then when she showed up for the second time in his life, apparently for good, she would have just been his hot new co-worker and maybe he wouldn't have this nagging urge to take care of her in way that he knows, despite it all, he'll never be able to pull off.

She's turned him into a fucking girl. It's humiliating, and what's worse is he's pretty sure everyone else is beginning to pick up on it.

The morning after he waited outside her door like a ditched prom date for twenty minutes (half an hour tops), Addison rushed into the meeting late looking tired and disheveled and far too beautiful for that combination. He was tired too, dammit, and Pete knew for a fact that he looked like shit.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized breathlessly, shrugging out of her coat. "Slept through the alarm."

"You don't need to hand out excuses, this isn't high school," Pete heard himself snap and it was times like this that he thought maybe Violet was right, maybe he is angry. "Can you just sit down already so we can get on with it?"

Naomi glared at him, Violet kicked his shin under the table, Cooper coughed and started talking loudly about a patient none of them needed to know about, and Sam managed to pull off Don't-be-an-asshole-man and I-really-want-jump-my-ex-wife in a single facial expression. Pete didn't look at Addison's reaction. He was too busy rifling through files and pretending he didn't spend every day proving to her that everyone was right about him from the beginning.

-o-

"Dude," Cooper stated, ambling into his office. "Word of advice. Don't verbally attack the woman you have a crush on."

"I don't have a crush her." Pete's cup of coffee wasn't kicking in yet and Addison hadn't looked at him all day and he just realized he was scheduled to do his eastern voodoo thing he does with a patient of hers that afternoon. He didn't have a crush; he had what was starting to feel like a migraine.

"You wanted to punch out a police officer just because he asked her out."

"He never actually asked her out. And if he did, good for them, I hope he doesn't mind getting engaged in under a week."

"Uh-oh. Crushy Pete is bitter." Cooper grinned like a five-year old. "Crushy Pete needs a hug."

"If you touch me I will hurt you."

"Just talk to her man. Maybe try bonding over your shared love of passive-aggressive banter. Because, take it from me, the whole wallowing-from-afar thing gets old fast." Walking out the door, Cooper called out over his shoulder, "And hey, if that doesn't work you could always keep on trying to piss her off. That's what one of my patients swears by. Of course, he's in the second grade."

-o-

He found Addison in her office, reading the newspaper and poking at her salad with a plastic fork. She had pulled herself together since the meeting: her collar was neatly folded down now, hair still down but parted evenly down the center. Her lips were now deep red and they tightened as she finally noticed him leaning against the doorframe. "Yes?"

"Emily Davis just checked in, Dell's setting her up in the birthing suite now."

"Fine, I'll be right in. Is that all?" She was using the same clipped tone she used at the Safe Surrender meeting, which bothered Pete more than he was okay with. It was her "you've been downgraded to acquaintance" voice.

"Are you going to stay mad at me all day?"

"Are you going to snap at me every time you're in a bad mood?"

Pete shrugged. "Maybe. You're kind of an easy target."

"You're kind of an asshole." At least she was looking at him now, glaring at him to be more precise, and although he's seen her angry before, he's never tried to deliberately provoke the reaction out of her. To be completely honest, it was kind of a turn on.

"Addison, friends let friends give some leeway when they're in a bad mood."

"Is that all it is?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It just I don't see you taking it out on anyone else. So if it's something else that's bothering you I'd rather you just come out and say it so I don't have to worry about walking on eggshells around for the rest of the day."

And Pete really doesn't think she should be able to call him on his bullshit like that, not when she's still technically the new one. It took working here eight years for him to let Violet even unofficially call him on his bullshit. So instead of answering, Pete just shrugs his shoulders. "Let's just worry about the patient instead."

-o-

Complications often arise in medicine, and it was an unexpected one that sent Addison in full kick-ass surgeon mood hurtling off to St. Ambrose in an emergency ambulance, a screaming Emily Davis right along with her (because some complications can't be solved by jumping into a birthing tub). It's times like this when all Pete can do is pack away the eastern voodoo thing he does and await the call that he wonders whether maybe Charlotte King was right, maybe he is wasting his time. He sure as hell didn't feel good for anything today as Addison was rushing around, barking orders at Dell as their patient stared up at him with terrifyingly pained eyes and all he could do was stare back.

It's Naomi who eventually picks up the ringing phone. As she listens, her face falls and she shakes her head at Pete and Sam. "The baby didn't make it," she tells them after hanging up.

"Damn," Sam says with a sigh. "How did she sound?"

Naomi shrugs. "Well, you know Addison."

No, Pete thinks.

"Yeah," Sam answers, and Pete wants to smack him and yell that not everyone knows Addison like they do, not everyone has the history and the experiences, no one else at this practice has seen what she's like after she's forced to pull her hands from a patient's body and call time of death. All he has to go on is the memory of her walking away from that second, unlucky baby and slumped on the stiff waiting chair in the hospital lobby. That night even Charlotte had offered up a kind work and all Pete could do was stay all the way on the other side of the room, unable to even make eye contact with Addison, even as she stared at him unabashedly over the rim of her unfinished coffee. But in the end she had gone straight to Sam and Naomi anyway.

"You shouldn't be alone tonight."

"I won't be."

"Alright, we're heading home for the night man." Sam's clap on his shoulder jerks Pete out of his thoughts. "See you tomorrow."

The sight of the two of them walking into the elevator together, all shy smiles and back hand brushes, is oddly comforting. It's nice to know that second chances work for some people. Pete sticks around the office for a little while and kills time trying to figure out why, for the second night in a row, he's waiting for a woman who he can't quite figure our how to handle.

-o-

"You're still here?" Pete looks up from a pile of charts he filled out weeks ago to find Addison hovering by his door. Her hair is disheveled again, whether from the scrub cap or her hands running through it to calm herself he doesn't know. There are rings under her eyes that stand out in the practice's fluorescent lighting. She looks exhausted and beaten and stunning.

"I'm sorry," Pete blurts out. "For being rude to you this morning. And for what happened with the baby. I'm sure you did everything you –"

"Stop it," Addison interrupts.

"What?"

"You're being patronizing. I'm not an intern, Pete; I'm not just starting out. I've lost patients before. And I have enough faith in my skill to know it wasn't my fault without you pointing that out to me. I'm not upset, I'm not felling guilty, and even if I was…. Well, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before on my own. I'm fine." It's a speech made entirely of Addison Montgomery material, strong and independent, and it all sounds like bullshit to him. He wonders if Sam and Naomi would buy it, or whether they've just learned to pretend to.

"Are you? You might not be feeling guilty but you're feeling something and keeping it to yourself isn't going to help. I should know."

Turning away from him, Addison replies, "I'm not good at letting in help. I don't need help I just…. I need…."

He knows. So he kisses her.

She doesn't hesitate but kisses him back, her hands moving from his chest to clutch at his shoulders as he wraps one arm around her back, pulling her closer, so close he can feel her trembling, and god it's insane but he's missed kissing her.

And then suddenly she's pulling away, frantic. "I'm sorry Pete, I can't do this again, I can't be that person again, I… I've already made this mistake and I'm trying to change, but I can't if…. I'm sorry."

Addison leaves, leaves Pete leaning against his desk one hand pressing into the wood, the other rubbing his forehead. He waits five minutes, takes the stairs down, and checks to make sure her car isn't still in the parking lot. Then he drives home.

-o-

They don't bring it up again. They're professional in the meetings, friendly in the kitchen, relaxed at weekend get-togethers at Sam's. Addison never stays in room with him if they're alone and Pete refrains from breaking anything every time Naomi brings up the police officer around him. He tries to convince himself he's happy, and fails miserably.

The most fucked-up thing about it is that he barely knows Addison at all.

But he wants to.

THE END