A/N: Okay, before you grab the pitchforks and the flaming hot buttered rums, this is only a semi-new story. It builds on the script-flip at the prom, where Addison gets an emergency call from Susan about the Captain and she and Derek both leave early - before Derek and Meredith can commit their famous not-as-bad-as-what-Addison-and-Mark-did. Prom, as you know, is ripe for Addek flips, because so much changed during that party. I wanted to build on the couple-ness all Addek people know started to appear in the back half of season 2 and almost - almost - made it seem like they might be about to start fixing their marriage. Except at the same time, Derek was "friends" with Meredith in a semi-manipulative way that made him look a pushy jerk. Or a soulful good guy, depending on whether your name is Shonda. (And I say this with love. I love all four members of the original square-not-triangle, a lot.) As anyone who has read The Climbing Way knows, I love situations where Derek is forced to put aside his resentment/indifference and actually pay attention. In TCW, it was Addison's attack and subsequent hospitalization. Here, Addison is fine, but her family isn't. And that means Connecticut. It means rampant WASPiness and all the delicious Addek drama that comes with Connecticut: Archer. Mark (who still hasn't made up with Derek). Every other Shepherd in existence, including Derek's dear old mom. In time, in time. I was going to wait to write this but Chapter 2 popped into my head last night while I was checking flights, and here we are.
Same old disclaimer: I am not ditching any of my current WIPs, but some big ones are about to wrap up, and I am letting myself indulge a little in some new ones. (I'm still planning on writing Mark and Derek at Bizzy's funeral, btw, which is a whole different ball game.)
This chapter is just an edited, slightly better (!) version of the flip. The next chapter is all new, so feel free to skip ahead if you remember the basic premise. This chapter is Addison's, next chapter is Derek's. Enjoy!
The Distance in Your Eyes
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..
Oh no, I've said too much. I've set it up...
Silver balloons, bad tuxes, and non-alcoholic punch that does nothing to take the sting away from her date's attention being elsewhere.
It's a prom, all right.
She finds her husband at the aforementioned non-alcoholic punch bowl (it doesn't miss her that he's standing with the vet, and something tells her they're not discussing canine euthanasia) and nervous chatter starts spilling from her mouth before she can intervene.
"This whole thing is bringing back very traumatic memories of being a band geek with braces and a lisp and spending the whole evening with Skippy Gold spending the whole evening talking about Star Wars."
He's angled away from her while she talks. A quick flit of her eyes and ... yes, there it is. Her peripheral vision reveals Meredith greeting her date.
Her vet date.
She focuses on Derek. "So, you want to, um …dance?" She's the only one he'll publicly dance with.
So if he says yes, if he still says yes, then that's something.
"Love to," he says.
And he actually smiles. Her heart thumps against the bodice of her dress.
"Skippy didn't even want to ask me," she tells him. Forget punch, she's drunk on being this close to him and feeling his arms around her. She's a chatty drunk, and ... here it comes, more: "Bizzy made some sort of connection on the museum board and his mother wanted to curry favor. You know, the Connecticut version of arranged marriage."
She stops talking when he doesn't respond.
"Derek?"
"Yeah."
His hand is splayed between her bare shoulder blades – he's always liked dresses cut low in the back – and his other hand has hers tucked against his chest. She stops talking then, finally just enjoying the closeness, the warmth of his body connecting with hers.
His head touches hers, just briefly, and she remembers the way they swayed at their wedding, heads inclined toward each other, his curls brushing the elaborate updo that took almost an hour to take down in their suite that night …
They made the hour memorable, though. They made it count.
She considers reminding him of that night. Wonders if he remembers it.
If he remembers how happy they used to be.
At least he's dancing with her, even if he seems distracted. She inclines her head carefully, daringly, to touch his again and then something vibrates against her chest.
"Oh." She draws back. "Is that one of our phones, or are you just happy to see me?" She smiles nervously.
He smiles back, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"Yours or mine?"
He reaches into the breast pocket of his tux and looks at the phone. "Yours." He's been carrying it for her since she doesn't have a purse; now he drops it into her hand.
"Sorry. See, that never happened at proms when we were teenagers. Progress, right?" She laughs a little in that nervous way again. "Let me just check... "
Her voice trails off.
"What?"
"It's Susan." She's staring at the phone. "Maybe she has spies in Seattle and she heard me take Bizzy's name in vain."
"Do you want to take it?"
"No, it's fine. Let's dance." She hands him back the phone and moves toward him again, already anticipating the rough-smooth brush of his sleeve against her bare skin.
But the phone starts buzzing again as soon as she's in his arms.
"I can power it down," she offers just as he says, "maybe you should take it."
"Okay. Just – don't go anywhere." She smiles at him like she's kidding and picks up the phone.
"Susan? This isn't really a good time – wait, what?"
She stops in the middle of the dance floor and girl she doesn't recognize steps on her foot in a sharp stiletto. She cries out in spite of herself, the girl mutters apologies and then Addison does too, into the phone. "No, I'm here, I'm listening. Where? Okay. Okay, I will."
And she flees toward the doors.
"Addison!"
She doesn't realize he's behind her until his hand reaches out, brushing her bare arm. "Where are you going?"
"I have to go." She stalks down the hallway, her shoes loud, the mermaid skirt of her dress inhibiting movement. She'd like to tear it off.
"You have to go where? Addison, slow down."
"I can't slow down."
"Why not?"
"It's my father. He's in the hospital. Susan said – Susan said it's bad."
It's bad. That's not what doctors say. It's what scared families say. You need to come. Come quickly.
"I'm sorry." His hand is on her arm, and she's shivering, suddenly freezing in her sleeveless dress.
"Derek ... it's bad."
"I'm sorry," he repeats.
She nods, her head feeling stiff. "I need to go out there, Susan's going to call me back with the arrangements. I need to go."
"I understand." He's nodding now too. His hand is still on her arm.
"It's been so long," she whispers.
Six years.
"I know." His face is grim when she tries to focus on it.
Of course it is.
He remembers too.
"Okay." She exhales heavily, trying to organize her thoughts. "So I'm – I'll just –"
Wait, where's her purse?
Her keys are in her purse.
"Addison?" He's looking at her, head tilted slightly.
"No, I just – I don't have keys. Wait, what am I doing? You have my keys. I think. No, you drove." Everything feels quick, blurry, she knows she's not making much sense.
"Addison." His hand is on her shoulder now. "I drove. I have keys. Let me drive you back so you can-"
"No. No, you should stay. Richard wants us all to stay."
"There are plenty of people here for his prom. You're too worked up to drive."
His arm is around her now, supporting her, and she lets him. She doesn't say why weren't you looking at me? It suddenly doesn't seem important; her vision is narrowed to one small tunnel.
It's bad. You need to come.
She gives him a final out, as they push through the lobby doors.
"You can stay, Derek. You can stay and I'll go."
"It's a high school prom in a hospital cafeteria. Trust me, I'm not missing much. Besides, Richard saw us, we made an appearance."
"Okay." She nods slowly.
"You're shivering." He sheds his tuxedo jacket and drapes it over her shoulders.
She glances at him. It's an automatic movement, she knows, but she appreciates it as the warmth of the fabric surrounds her. it smells like him.
She dips both hands into the empty pockets of her husband's tuxedo jacket to warm herself and, with his hand at the small of her back, she lets him lead her to the car.
As the brightness of the lobby grows smaller, she realizes he's right. The prom is practically over, anyway. What could they possibly miss?
Only the rest of the show! Except not, because we flipped it. Okay, next chapter is the new part.
Title and under-bit from REM's Losing My Religion (of course)