The argument had started like any other.

Addison had snapped at you over a patient, her tone dripping with disapproval, and you'd shot back, just as sharp, just as cruel. The rest of the team had long since stopped trying to mediate your fights—it was a known fact that you and Addison Montgomery did not get along.

"Maybe if you weren’t so damn arrogant, our patient wouldn’t have nearly bled out on the table!" she had hissed, her blue eyes burning with frustration.

"And maybe if you pulled that stick out of your ass, you’d realize I actually saved her!" you had fired back, stepping closer, anger radiating off you.

Your breath had been heavy, your hands clenched into fists, your pulse pounding in your skull—and then, suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in your side.

You had barely registered Addison's expression shifting from anger to something else—something closer to alarm—before your vision blurred. Your knees buckled, and you felt yourself sway.

The last thing you expected was for Addison to catch you.

"Hey—hey, hey, stay with me—damn it, don’t close your eyes!" Her voice was panicked, her hands firm as she eased you to the floor.

You tried to breathe, but the pain was spreading. You pressed a hand to your side, and when you lifted it, your fingers were stained with blood. Your stomach twisted.

"Shit," you mumbled.

"Yeah, no kidding," Addison snapped, but there was no venom this time—only fear. Her hands were already on you, pressing against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

You tried to move, but her grip tightened. "Don’t be an idiot, stay still."

"Thought you didn’t care," you muttered weakly.

Her jaw clenched, her expression unreadable for a second—then it cracked, just enough for something fragile to slip through.

"I don’t." The words were almost too quick, almost too defensive. Then, softer: "I don’t… but I also don’t want you bleeding out on the damn floor."