AN: This is the a really short oneshot. I wrote it because I was so pissed off with my laptop and I just had to get it off my chest (that, and to get back some inspiration.) I haven't updated my chapter story Hold On yet because I'd started the next chapter before my drive decided to give up on me. And I sort of didn't want to rewrite what I'd already written. So until I get my drive fixed, Hold On is... on hold. Teehee. :)) Bear with me though. And enjoy this really short fic.

*I do not own Grey's Anatomy. :)

She honestly couldn't say that she was numb. The pain in her heart was like a thousand knives piercing her body. Every pain, every heartache, every negativity was intensified as she ran, barefoot, away from her home, across the streets and towards her life in the harsh Manhattan rain. She was running for her life, in every sense of the word, wearing nothing but a ratty college t-shirt. Amid the blisters on her feet and bleeding from the gashes on her soles, she ran, caring only to get to him, to reach him, to get him to believe how sorry she was that she screwed up. The rain drowned her screams, and her heart clenched and unclenched, her mind trying to move forward from the image of Derek, his eyes full of hurt and disappointment. Because tonight, she ruined her marriage, but she wasn't giving up without a fight.

-

His heart was pounding as he stepped on the gas, painfully aware of Addison following him into the night. He felt no pity for her, only anger. She broke his heart, and really, all he could think of was he had to get away. Away from the problems, the hurt, the failure that was their marriage. He had to escape the image of his best friend, his brother, touching his wife in ways only he should have. He was blinded by anger.

He knew she was a runner, and that she could easily catch up with him if he kept on his pace. And he wanted nothing more than to forget, to get as far away from her as possible. He didn't care that it was raining particularly hard, or that Addison was running barefoot clad in only a t-shirt. All he cared about was stopping the tears falling hotly down his cheeks and the pain coursing through his veins. He wasn't lying when he told her, or rather yelled at her, that he felt nauseous when he saw her. No, it was the truth. He felt physically sick just thinking about it.

Rounding the corner, he glanced up the rearview mirror, willing himself to somehow take pleasure in the broken mess she was in now. So taking one more step at the gas, he increased his pace and disappeared into the night.

-

She kept running, kept screaming, kept begging him to turn around and let her explain. She hit a main road, and she didn't care that people were looking at her, or that she appeared to be a lunatic lost in the streets on Manhattan. All she wanted was a chance to redeem herself. She was desperate, for his love and attention, and that had pushed her to do things she would never do if she were sober. The city lights swirled around her vision, but everything was a blur. The only clear thing was her goal: to get Derek back no matter what.

-

He kept driving, hitting the interstate as he tried to focus on anything other than what he had witnessed. It seemed like he had been trying to forget while driving for an eternity, but really it was just a little more than an hour. His tears kept falling, and his hands clutched the wheel until his knuckles were white. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't do anything against his mind playing flashbacks of earlier that evening.

He was grateful for the distraction of his pager beeping, as well as his mobile ringing. He didn't register the fact that it was odd that both his phone and beeper sounded, and he absently reached for his mobile and brought it to his ear. He ignored the shaking of his hand, the pounding of his heart, and the hot tears that continued to fall.

"Dr. Shepherd?" The voice on the other end was shaky, on the brink of panic.

"This is Dr. Shepherd." He gulped unconsciously, his grip on the phone tightening. He was desperate for a distraction.

"There's a 911 that just came in, sir. They're asking for you. Female, suffering possible head trauma after being hit by a truck." The woman's voice quivered slightly. "We need you to consult. You're supposed to be on call tonight."

He sighed. "I have to bail out on being on call, Jane. Is Dr. Peterson still around?" He couldn't operate in the condition he was in. He just knew it would be bad luck and he would screw up grandly.

"Sir… the woman was hit by a truck, a lorry. It took an hour for emergency team to get her from under it. She's suffering severe head trauma among other things. We need you to—"

She was interrupted by the sound of a loud flat line echoing across the room. Derek had to hold the phone away from his ear slightly as the massive, chaotic sounds drifted towards his hearing. The sound of the team trying to revive her with every possible trick in the book was painfully audible, and he could hear the adamant commands of whoever was in charge ordering them to get the woman's heart beating again.

Derek sighed. He had to hold on to the call, even though he felt no remorse or sympathy or guilt. He was too preoccupied with the affair, and his mind had no room for patients. He sensed the phone was left on the table for a good 10 minutes before the commotion settled down. He could hear the flat line intensify, signaling the worst.

From the other end, he heard a man's voice tightly call time of death. "Time of death, 12:32 am." His voice was a little over a whisper, but he could be heard because a shocked silence spread across the room like an epidemic.

Derek bowed his head slightly, for a moment. They were unable to save the woman. And for a fleeting second, a sense of guilt washed over him as he thought about his hesitation to help.

The sound of the phone being picked up interrupted his thoughts.

"Dr. Shepherd?" The woman's voice sounded like she was crying.

"I'm sorry Nurse Jane," he said solemnly. "I was too far away to save her anyway."

The woman shook her head. "No… sir. No. I… I'm sorry."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean? It's not your fault. I didn't come."

She took a calming breath, trying to steady herself. "The woman… sir. The woman was your wife. It was Addison."

I know, I know. I took my frustrations out on the character. But I'm pretty happy about this. Pretty happy. Let me know what you think though. Thank you for reading!