"Has anyone ever told you guys that you look like a couple?"

"We are," Maddox replies as she tries to chew the tasteless salad. The latest of her attempts to be a hero and try to save the girl trapped in the cafeteria has depleted much of her savings, as her health insurance doesn't seem to cover the 'intentionally accessing a burning kitchen, knowing that the roof could fall in at any moment' items. So, in hiding from Addison, the last few days she has had access only to bowls of unseasoned salad and cans of canned goods of dubious provenance —the hospital kitchen pantry.

"No, not you," Callie clarifies, anxious. Her gaze flicks from Addison to Maddox, back to the redhead and finally the orthopedic surgeon rolls her eyes. "I mean you and Meredith. Or you and Cristina."

"I'm here," Addison interjects, frowning and jabbing her plastic fork into a piece of lettuce from Maddox's bowl. "Come on, don't tell me—"

"Your girlfriend here told me and Hahn —me and Hahn!— look like a happy couple. I mean, we were just talking and then she suddenly appears after her little vacation with a smug smile on her face ready to ruin every single thought I have from now on related to Erica Hahn."

The concept of 'vacation' for Addison differs from Callie's. Addison traveled to Los Angeles last weekend for complications at her friends' clinic. Maddox didn't have to worry because aside from knowing Addison's friends —who could almost be her parents... Mark's voice echoes in her head from that day— her life as a resident doesn't allow her to worry a second too much about anything other than medicine. Or about the lives and problems of her friends (Alex and his reunion with Jane Doe, Cristina's constant back and forth because Hahn seems to make her passion for cardio die down, and, for that matter, Lexie's incessant complaints about her resident making her life miserable, the stony silence in the room every time she and Izzie are left alone for the last incident —she debates whether to classify it as an incident or a chaotic event that would change her life forever— or the recent separation of Meredith and Derek, whose fates struggle to keep them together in the neurosurgery clinical trial).

And when it's not about medicine, her patients, overwork and lack of sleep, her personal life also comes into play. Meredith's initiative to visit a psychologist —Maddox doesn't really know if it was Meredith's own decision or if Bailey put a gun to her head to accept the proposal— prompts Maddox to make the same decision, albeit an idea kindly recommended by the hospital and Addison, who has long feared that Maddox's impulsive decisions will one day end up ruining her life and thus her own. Recent events that have seen Maddox end up on a hospital gurney or underwater in her bathtub for longer than she should have activate a flame of concern in Addison that can only be extinguished with real change, and apparently Maddox is okay with that.

Not that the resident feels like airing all her traumas and worries to a stranger, but seeing the fear in Addison's eyes sets off alarms inside her and provokes feelings she should never feel. She is aware that sometimes her decisions are rash and guided by something else that cannot be called common sense, and the first of her goals in the sessions is to find the source of those impulses and get a way to change it.

"Oh, I told her," Maddox admits happily.

Callie's gesture is contrary. "What?"

"How do you think she could know if you and Hahn were a happy couple? She's been in Los Angeles for a week. And she's new," Maddox raises her eyebrows in Callie's direction, as if she wants only her to understand. Judging by Addison's naïve frown, Maddox takes her goal for granted. "I didn't mean for you to get paranoid. You just seemed to be having fun and really connecting the times I've seen you two together. Well, are you?" Maddox presses at Callie's silence and her look perplexed.

"No! I... We're just friends! Now two people can't be friends and have fun together? I like penis. I'm a big fan of penises," Callie picks up her tray indignantly and heads inside the hospital dining room, away from the couple.

"Weird," Maddox comments quietly, biting into a piece of a carrot. "Why are you saying that to her face anyway? I was gossiping with you, some things need to be left unsaid. Unless you're sure it's happening."

"Don't act like a sweet angel now," Addison glares at her. "You're the one who put this thought in my mind. Besides, I really thought it was a thing. I mean, this thing that Mark and her have is silly, and Hahn was making her laugh the whole time I was there. Then they started arguing about something Yang said. It seemed appropriate to drop the bombshell."

Maddox disregards it. "She'll come around. And we'll be the first ones to know when it happens. 'Cause it'll happen, baby."

Addison smiles a little, partly surprised at the ease with which the word rolls off Maddox's tongue. The redhead remembers meeting her so intimidated and worried about doing her best that having her in front of her so confident and sure of what she's saying makes it seem like years have passed since she came into her life. The pager in her pocket causes Addison to wake from her reverie —the word baby still ringing in her ears as if Maddox has shouted it from the top of a mountain— and Maddox rises with her. "Emergency in OR 3. I have to run."

"Can I come?" Maddox knows it may not be entirely ethical to take advantage of the relationship she has with the surgeon to get into every surgery Addison is involved in, but if Maddox has learned anything in all the time he's been at Seattle Grace, it's that everyone takes advantage of what they can, one way or another.

"Karev's already there. And you have an appointment, don't think I forgot!" Addison bolts into the building, turning to look over her shoulder at her and giving her a short smile, and Maddox doesn't know why right now, but it's a moment she'd remember for a lifetime.

Maddox is in love. She has no problem admitting that. In fact, it's one of the topics that came up earlier in the first session with the hospital psychologist. Everyone at Seattle Grace already knows about her relationship with Addison, the difficult beginnings and the rocks along the way to where they are now, which is why Maddox is so open about their relationship. She does find it surprising how quickly the entire hospital accepts a sapphic relationship between two such different women: an attending and a resident, a woman who just got divorced after a long marriage to a man and a young girl who is practically just starting out in life. There are so many differences and so many reasons why they might not accept it, that Maddox is still surprised that the people who know her best in the world —or so she thought— are the only ones who do not accept this relationship.

In fact, her parents are the other most recurring theme in the sessions. She's only been in two, but the psychologist has already tried to get her to open up, to talk about her traumas and past experiences, anything that explains her eagerness to please others, her desire to put other people's needs before her own —even those of people she doesn't know— and the ease with which she is capable of risking her life for something that may be a lost cause.

The resident says nothing. She sits on the couch calmly, aware that every gesture, every glance and every silence is carefully observed by the other doctor, who is also silent, although Maddox does not know if it is a strategy to get the brunette to speak, or if it is a way of giving her space so that she feels confident. As much as she tries, Maddox feels a cold, sometimes even hostile atmosphere, because she doesn't know the woman in front of her well enough to talk about things she's never talked about before.

Maddox has not been a girl of many friends. Her childhood has been based on spending time at home, with her parents and her brother, and when she occasionally made friends, she would go out to the park, to the movies or to a diner. Seeing the way Maddox has grown up, there are two possible ways to decipher her personality: not being used to much contact, she could opt for the option of blurting out anything that crossed her mind in order to retain some attention and affection from the other party; or, on the contrary, she would keep her own thoughts and feelings to herself, being condemned to silence and solitude since she was a child. Depending on the person in front of her, Maddox could be both.

With the psychologist it is another matter. She only sees herself able to tell things if they really came from the heart. And Maddox doesn't see a way for the doctor to put together all the pieces that she herself has been breaking throughout her life.

"Why are you here?" The psychologist looks at her questioningly, or so it seems to Maddox. She suddenly feels tiny under the watchful blue-eyed gaze and almost feels like she's in school.

"The answer to that should be given to me by you, shouldn't it?" Maddox tries to maintain an amused tone, but sees that it has no effect on the doctor and her smile freezes on her face. "I guess Addison is worried about me. Or maybe it's been Bailey. Or Webber. I'm still not quite sure who decided I should end up here."

"Does it even matter? You're here now. Each and every decision you've made in your life has led you here. This hospital, this room. This profession. Have you always wanted to be a surgeon?"

It seems like a trick question to Maddox. There's a catch behind those questions, her alarm bells go off right away. In college, she signed up for a couple of psychology courses because it sounded interesting, but they didn't amount to much more than curiosity. However, they were enough for her to learn that a professional never asks useless questions. She wants to find out something about her.

"Yes, well. It's something I've always liked. I grew up surrounded by this hospital, so I guess I learned to see the good part before the obvious bad part."

"That's very mature of you. I see then that you've always been a sensible person. The doctors around here have that opinion of you, at least. Professional, composed. Selfless."

"It's my job," Maddox shrugs. "I'm here to make people's lives a little better."

"Or to save their lives," the doctor points out. "It's a very big responsibility, after all. And a pretty big goal for a young girl, if you say you've always been clear about where you wanted to go."

Maddox closes her eyes for a moment. "It hasn't always been that way. I was also once an insecure little girl who wasn't clear about things and didn't know where I was going. Everyone's had doubts at one time or another, right?" The psychologist nods, satisfied with the direction the conversation is taking. "My parents say I've always been very curious. The word why was a constant at home and it drove them crazy, because there's not always an explanation for everything. It's something my brain didn't understand. I wanted to know everything and why or why not. I found a lot of answers about life in general in biology, which was my first choice to study. From biology it derived to medicine, which apart from finding the why, gives the solution."

"And why surgery? As you see, we psychologists also like to know why. Why not psychology, then?

"It's different," the brunette answers quickly. "Psychology involves asking the right questions, and from there you can take action. I find surgery more thorough. One wrong step and it all goes to shit. The human mind may be fragile, but a brain, a heart... You have it in your hands to change a person's life forever. In a matter of seconds," Maddox adds, passing the pen from one hand to the other. The doctor seems satisfied with her answer, because she leans back in the chair as if she has found a tender spot. "There are a lot of people who don't believe in psychology, doc. No offense. But how can you not believe in surgery? How can you not believe that a person who is able to cut you open without killing you can bring you back to life?"

"It's control, then," the psychologist concludes, again leaning back, and with the pen taps her chin. "I've read your file, Dr. Easton. I hope you don't mind, it's something we doctors at the hospital have access to. You've been at Seattle Grace longer than you'd like, longer than your intern and residency years entail. Your mother became ill when you were just a child. You grew up within these four walls, practically. Fatigue, stress and waiting are no strangers to you. You are smart, smart enough at least to graduate years earlier than usual. No wonder all the characteristics and habits doctors have carry with them a desire for power and control."

"I don't think it's about power or control. I mean, I do like to have everything under control, but I don't think my desires to get this far are based on wanting to intimidate or subdue those below me."

Maddox then thinks back to her childhood —could it be control, ego, power? She didn't have many friends, more like acquaintances or classmates, but she didn't get into trouble with others either. She remembers no arguments, no fights, much less a desire to control others. She remembers a normal childhood, making do with what she had around her and not needing anything more than what she had at home. No, it couldn't possibly be for control or power. At least not for the reasons the psychologist thinks.

"So, tell me, why are you here?"

And Maddox already knew she didn't mean being in the office right now.

"My mother was sick."

"Yes, I know."

Maddox shakes her head. "No. Not like that. I was a kid, quite a few years before cancer entered our lives. I was about ten years old. My dad sometimes wasn't home because he was in the Army, and a lot of times he'd be deployed to Afghanistan or wherever there were platoons deployed. He wasn't home much, so it was just me and my brother and my mom for sometimes months at a time. Some days she was sad, down, tired, and other days it was all normal. We were young, so my brother and I chalked it up to her being tired from work, because everything was back to normal in a matter of days or hours. We later found out that she had been diagnosed with depression, when the school where she worked practically forced her to stay home on sick leave because her episodes were preventing her from teaching," Maddox swallows hard, because she can't remember the last time she admitted all that out loud. "One night it was just the two of us because my brother was at a birthday party for one of his classmates. We were watching a movie, I remember it was a cartoon but I don't even remember which one, because all I can think about is what she told me. She had taken her pills, although I still didn't understand what they were or why she spent so much more time at home with us, she had drunk a glass of water and breathed calmly, as if it was her antidote. When they took effect, she looked at me almost as if she didn't see me, and said in a breathy voice that if she was going to be that calm when she died, then she would rather die. I didn't understand anything that was going on. I was ten years old, my father was half absent at that time in my life, and my mother had just confessed to me that she wanted to die. I was ten years old," Maddox wipes away angry tears hard. "I couldn't cry because she promptly forgot what she had said to me. She gently turned to continue watching the movie, and I even saw her laugh a few times. I would look at her from time to time, as if I was afraid she was going to disappear at any moment because of what she had just told me. Years later I understood that she was on medication and that what was coming out of her mouth didn't have to be true. But my ten-year-old self was forever scarred and her thoughts are still with me to this day. As I came to understand depression and mental health as well as a child could, I vowed to myself that I would kill whatever it was that was in my mother's body that wanted to take her life. At that time I didn't understand psychology, or psychiatry, or anything. I liked biology, and biology told me over the years that there was a way to cure people who were sick inside. I guess at some point I could have gone for psychology, but then... cancer came along. And it was definitive to choose the surgical field. So, you see," the young doctor smiles through tears. "It wasn't control, it wasn't power. It was desperation. I was a little girl who wanted to save her mother. I wanted to get rid of whatever was inside my mother which wanted my mother to say goodbye before her time. From that moment on, nothing interfered with my plans. I have always wanted to be a doctor mainly out of desperation. As I got older and she stayed on medication and I saw that everything was fine, I stopped worrying about that constant feeling of wanting to make things right so that my mother would want to live. Instead of just worrying about her, I worried about everything else as well. I wanted to satisfy them somehow, to convince them that there were reasons to live. To save them, in a way. And that became somewhat of an obsession, it seems to me," Maddox nods. "That's why I'm here, isn't it? That's why I'm here. In this room and in this hospital. Because of these sick desires to save everyone when sometimes I can't even save myself. And now I have failed in my attempt. The person I tried to save must detest me right now. So, in a way, I am free. I am free because I can no longer afford to seek her approval. Not when that approval overrides who I am as a person. I have failed my biggest goal since I was a little girl, but I am still here, in medicine. I do not consider quitting. I have failed but it has set me free."

Maddox breathes widely, concentrating on catching her breath, holding it, knowing it's there and allowing herself to stop time...and releasing it when she's ready. The tears have dried on her cheeks and she is aware that she has confessed buried secrets. But that's it. It's over.

The psychologist looks at her for a while before speaking. "We've only had three sessions and I don't know how you do your job as a professional, Dr. Easton. But I can predict a bright future for you if you are as aware of your surroundings in surgery as you have been these sessions. My work is done with you."

"Is it? Now you're supposed to give me some advice for improvement, aren't you?"

"Improve? Dr. Easton, you are fully aware of what you are doing. As much as you have it buried deep inside you, you know what the real reason you decided to go into medicine and, specifically, surgery. Whether you decided to walk into the cafeteria explosion, stick your hand in the wound to plug the bomb inside the patient or jump into the water to save Dr. Grey... these are your conscious desires to want to save anyone who has difficulty in your path. You are no longer ten years old, Dr. Easton. There is no longer an anxious pressure in your chest. This is reality. This is your life now. It is you who holds the reins and who must decide what to risk and what not to risk. You know perfectly well that your mother's life was not in your hands, nor are all the other lives you have tried to save, putting yourself in danger. As you rightly said... You are free. Every doctor has a certain saving instinct but you have to be rational: you can't always save everyone. Maybe right now what you need most is to save yourself. You have a partner, friends, a promising future... And you have to decide whether to intervene in the lives of others or in your own. Sometimes it's best to wait for help, Dr. Easton."

Maddox laughs a little wryly: the very help she didn't expect in the ocean, in the cafeteria, in that operating room... It's the help that has now arrived to open her eyes. "Turns out psychology is not that bad."

"Right? You could tell that to your friend, Dr. Grey."

The young doctor nods. "She's tough, but she's a good person. She's the kind of person worth taking a chance on."

Maddox doesn't know what else to do. She doesn't know if she should just sit on the couch or if she should leave. The clock strikes quarter past three in the afternoon. She doesn't know when so much time has passed, if she could have sworn it's only been half an hour since she said goodbye to Addison in the coffee shop.

The young woman decides it's time to leave. She'll have patients who require her attention, or interns to lead around the hospital, or friends who want to pick on her because she's now suddenly going to the psychologist.

"Cristina Yang."

Maddox turns around, letting go of the doorknob. "What?"

"You said earlier that you weren't quite sure why you were physically here, in this office. You said Addison, Bailey or Webber. You were wrong. It was Cristina Yang who came up with the idea for you to be here."