The thunder crashes outside as the party wraps up, the cards get put away. Meredith shuffles them one more time before slipping them back into the pack.

"Thanks for coming over tonight, guys," she says, smiling at everyone. Since Derek's death, Meredith has needed these get-togethers to keep her sane. She's allowed George and Izzie to move back in and she's lately started entertaining Addison along with Alex and Cristina. Sometimes, Owen comes along as well, and rarely, Callie and Arizona. It helps her remember she's not alone. It helps her remember that grief doesn't have to encompass her entire soul.

Addison gathers her purse and coat together, ensuring that her heel sits squarely in her designer shoes before straightening up. Alex has already left; Cristina is just pulling out of the driveway. She turns to give Meredith one last smile and thanks before a shot of lightning hits the tree outside of the Queen Anne house, cracking and breaking off to thud just behind Addison's Mercedes.

"What the fuck?" is all Addison can get out before she runs outside to look at the damage. Thankfully, the branch has missed the car, but without a cleanup crew, no one is going to move the 200-year-old piece of tree out of the way. Meredith comes out, wrapped in a shawl, to stare at the tree.

"Shit," is all she says, and Addison turns around to look at her.

"Listen, can you call the city? Maybe they can get someone out tonight."

Meredith shakes her head. "They won't come out tonight for sure, and not at this time. You can stay over tonight and we'll get it moved in the morning."

Addison shakes her head at the idea and pulls out her cell, dialling 411. After getting the city's number, she listens to the phone ring ten times before hanging up and sighing. Meredith gives her a smug look, and Addison frowns. "Okay, you were right."

"Come on," says Meredith, leading the way back inside and taking Addison's coat. Izzie wanders by the stairs in her nightgown and does a double-take.

"What happened?"

"Branch fell behind my car," says Addison, still frowning. "I can't get out. I guess I've got to stay here until morning."

Izzie shrugs. "Okay. I guess the spare room has clean sheets." She looks at Meredith, who shrugs.

"I don't sleep in there."

"Wonderful," mutters Addison, following the two women upstairs. Meredith opens the door to the room beside hers and peers into the gloom.

"It should be okay. Sorry, we didn't expect any visitors." Her voice is awkward, and Addison once again thinks about just calling a cab.

"Look, I can pick up the car in the morning. I may as well just go home."

Izzie pipes up behind Addison. "Just stay. It's already one in the morning and you're clearly tired." She grins as Addison stifles a yawn. "See?"

"Whatever, Stevens." Addison walks into the room and puts her purse on the bed. "One of you – and by you, I mean Stevens – can lend me some pajamas for tonight, I hope?"

Izzie disappears and Meredith winces a little as a particularly loud crack of thunder makes the house shake. "I hope you'll get some sleep tonight."

"Thanks for letting me stay, Grey."

Meredith grins at the use of her last name. "No problem. Good night," she finishes awkwardly, and pads next door.

The awkwardness of sleeping in her dead ex-husband's widow's house settles over Addison and she sits on the bed, pulling off her Manolos to stare out the window. She and Meredith are by no means friends, but Addison's often been coming over with Callie and Arizona to check on Meredith and to join the get-togethers that seem to happen every Friday and Saturday night. She's used to Meredith and her quirks, but she is not close to her.

Izzie walks in and tosses a pair of bright-pink pajamas onto the bed. "Sorry, they were the only ones that were clean," she deadpans, a twinkle showing deep down in her eyes.

Addison rolls her eyes anyway. "Thanks for the thought, Stevens."

Later, in bed, she stares out the window at the flashing lightning and sighs, unable to sleep. She loves thunderstorms, but the bed is too soft and she's too keyed up from sharing the same house as the residents she manages. As she tosses and turns, she hears a slight whimpering from the next room, and she pauses to listen.

The thunder crashes again and the whimpering changes into sobbing. It's coming from the shared wall between Addison's and Meredith's room, and Addison finds herself getting up and going to the wall to listen.

She feels stupid, but she puts her ear next to the vent and hears Meredith's sobbing growing louder as the storm grows wilder. The crying is heartbroken more than frightened; and she realizes that Meredith may not be as put together as she appears. It's been a bare six months since Derek's death. She knows from experience that grief has no expiry date.

Addison sneaks out of her room, finding her way along the runnered hardwood floors, trying not to step on any squeaky floorboards. The last thing she wants is Izzie or George poking their heads out of the room to ask her what the hell she's doing wandering the halls at two AM.

She stops in front of Meredith's room, feeling stupid. She barely knows the woman – why would she pretend to think that she could offer her any comfort? Innately, Addison knows this is stupid, but she can't help it. The sobs are still audible from inside the room – and Addison knows what it's like to cry and have no one hear you.

She opens Meredith's door, hoping like hell it won't squeak. Meredith is balled up in the bed, her face turned into the pillow. For once, Addison is glad for the storm. The noise is masking her footsteps; the lightning lighting her way to the younger woman's bed. Addison puts a hand on Meredith's shoulder and gives up all guises of professionalism and awkwardness.

Meredith jumps badly at the touch, but then recognizes Addison and simply turns her head back into her pillow. Nights like these happen every night – storm or not. Izzie slept beside Meredith for the first three months after Derek's death, because Meredith couldn't be alone. The storm is just exacerbating those feelings – the feeling of being lost in a maelstrom and no one's there to pull you out.

Addison says nothing; she simply climbs into bed beside Meredith and pulls the younger woman into her arms. She hushes her, making sibilant comforting noises into Meredith's hair. Meredith curls into Addison's warmth and sighs shakily. There's no time to feel stupid yet – she's too busy trying to put herself back together.

Addison holds Meredith until she calms herself, and then meets the younger woman's teary eyes. No words are said. Nothing is communicated. But Meredith cuddles closer to Addison's warmth, sighing deeply, and without even thinking, Addison drops a kiss onto Meredith's head.

When Meredith is asleep, Addison slips out of bed and back to her own. She knows that in the morning, nothing will be said, and it will be as if nothing ever happened.

But she has never been so glad to be stranded before. And she knows that Meredith feels the same way.

Sometimes, lightning strikes in the right place.