Instead of the bar tonight, you decide on the Starbucks across from the hospital, if only because you're working a double shift and you know you'll need caffeine. Despite the fact that you'd really rather spend time with Cristina, George and Izzie (who, oddly enough, aren't stupid enough to take other people's shifts on a night that you finally all have off), you shuffle through the doors and out into the silent night, cursing the fact that you let one of the other surgical residents talk you into this.

It's almost Christmas – not a time where you really ever feel the holiday cheer. Like any other holiday, it's tainted – with the memory of your mother, with the absence of your father, and the utter loneliness that holidays always bring. You've never understood the family feeling of Christmas; you've never understood the Tricia Romance feeling of lit-up houses in the snow. It rains in Seattle. It's grey and unforgiving and most Christmases, you just want to lock yourself in the bathroom with a bottle of tequila.

However, the rest of the world doesn't agree. There are Christmas lights everywhere – even on the hospital. The nurses set up a small fake tree on the station and there's a jar of candy canes in the surgical lounge. But you've learned – you've got to pretend to like the holidays, even when you don't, because not liking the holidays just creates drama.

The air is nippy tonight – you can see your breath as you head across the wet road towards the bright lights and warm fire of Starbucks. It doesn't matter what people say – there's nothing like an apple cider around Christmas time. Deep down, if anyone asked you – you know that you appreciate some parts of the holidays, even despite yourself.

As you push the door, you take quick stock of the seating situation. It's a cold night, and people have understandably crowded into the Place Where Coffee Always Happens Immediately. Your main concern, however, is that you don't want to see anyone from work, because you're not in the mood, after a hellish shift, to talk to anyone.

However, it's too late. You catch a flash of red hair in the corner, tucked away by the fireplace, and sigh inwardly. It's Addison Montgomery – and you're just not in the mood to pretend that everything's fine.

You stand at the counter, hoping to duck out before you're seen, but just as you pick up your too-hot apple cider in your hand and quickly grope for a coffee sleeve, she sees you.

Ducking your head down, you quickly stop the drinking hole on the plastic lid, but she's already seen you, and in a moment, you smell her perfume as she comes to stand at your side.

"Hey, Grey. Meredith."

"Hi, Dr. Montgomery." You can't begin to understand why she isn't at the hospital, at her house, or at Joe's, but you hope she won't want to talk long.

"Come here often?" You even can tell that she thinks that sounds lame, and out of the corner of your eye, you see her blush slightly as she says it.

"No." This time you fix her with a straight glance, and see the blush on her cheeks deepen. She's wearing a soft white knitted beret and a matching sweater over skinny jeans. Obviously, she didn't come straight from work.

Despite your short answers, she offers to have coffee with you, anyway. "Look, why don't you come and sit down? I'm just getting a refill."

It's on the tip of your tongue to refuse, but you shrug. Why not. She's got the best spot in the house anyway and you don't have to stay long.

"Sure." She leads the way to the fireplace and you sit down, awkwardly clutching your cups, until she says something and you don't catch it.

"Sorry?"

"I didn't think you'd be one to come here, Grey."

"Yeah, no. It's not my first choice." You take a sip of your apple cider and watch as Addison cautiously sips at her own cup. "You know, it's less hot when you take the lid off."

"Yeah, right." She giggles and you laugh a little too as she removes the lid. Her face relaxes a little bit after that and you fix your eyes on her face, which has calmed from her blush into an ivory pale slightly whiter than normal.

"Are you okay?" The question comes out of nowhere, and you quickly avoid her eyes, but she doesn't say anything and when you look up, her face looks upset.

"Addison?" It's one of the first times you've used her name, and she looks up at the unfamiliar sound of it in your mouth.

"No, to tell the truth, Meredith, I'm not." She's always been candid, which makes it easier to have conversations with her, but you look into your cup for a moment before responding.

"The holidays are hard for people." Belatedly, you remember that she loves Christmas, and want to kick yourself for mentioning it. That can't be what's wrong, and God knows you don't want to have a conversation about it.

But she nods. "That's exactly it." You're both quiet for a moment while Addison thoughtfully licks the whipped cream off her spoon, and then she speaks again.

"You know, this is the first time I've spent Christmas with no one. The first time I haven't had Derek – my parents, my brother . . . not even my friends. I don't even know what I'm doing here, to be honest, except that I know if I left, Richard would be livid."

"He'd probably understand," you say hesitantly, trying not to get into this but knowing the feeling all too well. "He knows what it's like to be sad around this time. He's separated."

"Yeah." Addison's blue eyes, fixed on her drink, suddenly well up. "It's just tough. I love Christmas."

She looks up, blinking a little bit. "Sorry, you don't. I heard you talking to Izzie earlier about it."

Your turn to blush. "Well, I don't necessarily hate it . . . it's just not a favourite holiday of mine."

She's silent for a moment, and then she starts to talk without stopping. "I do love it. I love the snow and the lights and the trees and pine needles on the carpet and peppermint mochas and the smell of cinnamon and the family.

"And you know? It's not like that here. Derek's gone. My parents are dead; my brother lives in New York City with his latest girlfriend and it never snows here. It just rains all the time, and I can't take it. People are so sad here."

You find yourself sympathizing, and without thinking, you put a hand on her arm. It's what you do – you're surprisingly touchy-feely for someone who's been so deprived of affection – but as a doctor you know that touch can make someone feel better.

"It's not so bad. I mean, there's that big tree downtown, if you want to see some Christmas cheer, and in my neighbourhood people will decorate their houses nicely. Izzie always takes care of our holiday stuff, so, you don't really need a family or whatever to celebrate."

Addison looks at you in a new light. "Grey, are you really telling me how to celebrate the holidays? You?"

You suddenly laugh. "Well, everyone should have a good holiday if they can."

Addison puts her empty cup on the table beside her and rises. "It's almost eleven. I've got to go home. But thanks for the chat."

You rise, too. "I should sleep. I've got another shift at five AM."

As you step out into the cold with Addison, you notice flakes falling slowly onto the now slick street, and grin.

"See, it does snow here. It doesn't always rain."

Addison tips her head up, the flakes settling on her brilliant red hair, shining in the light from the coffee shop, and smiles.

"Thanks, Grey."