A/N: In my defense, I never said I was anything but Addek trash. The kind of Addek trash who posts two new stories in two days because, you know, it's not like I'm ignoring my work or anything ... anyway, this was originally a flip the script request from xxLittleBlackDressesxx. I wrote a Flip the Script chapter where Addison confessed to Derek that she'd had, and then hidden, a miscarriage during their marriage. xxLittleBlackDressesxx requested "another flip of this episode ... maybe where Derek knows about the miscarriage." I swear I was going to follow directions, despite what my kindergarten teachers would tell you, but this story took on a life of its own and I realized it needed more space/flexibility than a Flip the Script chapter would allow. So, here's a one-shot ... or the start of something ... picking up after the Jamie Carr episode. The men are back from camping, and in "Staring at the Sun," the next episode, Derek is all bright and shiny and giddy with happiness and this is where he has one of his cruelest lines ever, to Addison: "It's happiness. I understand why you wouldn't recognize it." Anyway, flip time. Derek's still giddy, but he doesn't run into Addison the next morning...

LBD, this story's for you. Thanks for being an Addek goddess and I hope you enjoy!

Terra Incognita

Not all wounds are superficial. Most wounds run deeper than imagined.
(Voiceover, episode 3.07, "Where the Boys Are")

"Gooood morning, Dr. Bailey!"

He draws out the syllables with satisfaction; he's practically bouncing with delight, the coffee in his hand somehow richer and sweeter than it tastes yesterday. Even the grey-blue Seattle light looks like pure sunshine.

"Morning," she says warily, eyeing him with suspicion. "What's with the cheer?"

"The cheer?"

"The greetings. The exclamation points. The – this," she gestures toward him. "Cheer."

"Ah. Well, I feel great." He smiles broadly. "Great. Really great."

"...great," Bailey says in a voice he'd probably hear as a warning except that he's distracted by his own high spirits.

"See, the thing is, I'm … starting over. From the beginning."

"Where else would you start over?"

She has a point, but nothing is going to interfere with Derek's good mood. He's positively bright and shiny.

Bailey is studying him, not looking particularly impressed. "Don't tell me everyone who went on that … camping trip is going to come into the hospital this morning thinking I want to hear about their … greatness."

"I can only speak for myself."

"Can you do me a favor and speak for yourself over there so I can get my charting done?" She gestures with her chin toward the other side of the hallway.

"Of course." He gives her one more smile. "Have a great day, Dr. Bailey."

He probably mishears what she says as he's walking away, because it sounds almost … blue.

But he's not going to let anyone else's gloom bring him down.

He's refreshed from camping. Renewed. He and Meredith are starting over. They're taking it slow … nice and slow. A fresh start is just what he's needed. A fresh start means he can put the past behind him.

Finally.

He picks up a stack of charts, sees Bailey glaring at him out of the corner of his eye, and ducks around the corner behind a filing cabinet. It won't do to attract her ire, not when he's feeling so good.

There are voices he doesn't recognize coming from the other side of the file cabinet. From their wide-eyed tone – yes, a tone can be wide-eyed – he thinks they're probably interns; at that stage, everything is newsworthy. As he signs his name with a flourish he hears his own name and looks up.

"Shepherd? Oh, you mean Montgomery-Shepherd. She's just Montgomery now."

"She divorced him?"

"He divorced her. They divorced each other, I don't know, it takes two to … tango."

"So they tangoed and now she's Montgomery again, fine. Anyway, it was her case last night."

His brow crinkles as he listens. He could move – it's none of his business what Addison's cases are – and he doesn't particularly want to hear a stranger's post-mortem of his marriage. But there's no need to embarrass the interns, he supposes, so he stays where he is, listening to the interns' hushed voices waft over the filing cabinets.

"You were on her service?"

"Yeah, but they didn't want interns in the room. Montgomery and Torres, I mean. Essential personnel only."

"Torres – the bone resident?"

"Right. Because the patient slipped and fell in the shower and broke her arm."

"Wait, why was Montgomery-"

"Because the patient was pregnant, like really pregnant and I saw them when they came in all happy and the baby died. It was like They were so happy and, like, everything was fine and they were about to have a baby and then she had to tell them their baby was dead."

Derek's mouth is dry, his heart thumping.

They were so happy.

Everything was fine.

They were about to have a baby.

He closes his eyes, collecting himself.

The intern said she had to tell them their baby was dead. Nausea curdles his stomach. It's too much to hope for that the she was Dr. Torres. But even if so … the woman was Addison's patient.

Addison's pregnant patient.

"So what happened?"

"They delivered the baby. She was like … 38 weeks or something. More, I don't know."

The other intern makes a sound of displeasure. "Deliver a dead baby? Awful."

"Super awful."

They're still talking but their words have melded together in his head; all he hears is a dull white buzzing.

Addison's patient.

Addison's delivery.

Addison's baby.

…

"Mark." He's slightly out of breath; he's checked three floors. "Have you seen Addison?"

Mark turns around, smirking, holding a paper cup presumably probably holding cappuccino aloft. "A lot more of her than I should have, you could say."

"This isn't a joke." Derek forces a tremor out of his voice.

But everything is a joke to Mark.

"Nah," Mark says, looking confused. "Not this morning. Why?"

Derek takes a deep breath. "Last night, then?"

"No. Not last night either."

"Look, Mark-"

"I'm not covering anything up, Derek, I was at Joe's until I was paged and then – look, if you need an alibi, there's a very nice scrub nurse named … I want to say Tammy? Maybe it's Terri. Either way, she can vouch for me."

He's going to scream if he has to keep hearing Mark's voice.

Mark looks at him curiously. "You're worried about her. You're worried about her."

Derek doesn't say anything.

"She must be close to death, then."

"Excuse me?" He can't keep the irritation out of his voice now.

"Come on, Derek, worrying about Addison isn't exactly your strong suit."

"Mark. I'm not in the mood."

"You're never in the mood to hear you're not perfect, are you?"

"Drop it," he says sharply.

"I guess that's why you need an intern, right? She'll never stop being impressed by the Great Derek Shepherd? Not like the rest of us, when we get to know you."

"Shut up, Mark."

Mark pauses, looking for all the world like he's loading more ammunition. "She's a good girl," he says finally.

"Excuse me?"

"Meredith," Mark says, and Derek winces to hear her name from his lips. "We had a little chance to chat while you were on your boy scout camping trip."

"You and Meredith. Chatted?"

"Among other things."

Derek grits his teeth. "I'm not listening to you."

"In a bar."

"What?"

"So you are listening. I said we were in a bar. Simmer down, Derek, she basically said no. Apparently she's not much of a dirty ex mistress after all."

He shakes his head. "And you. You're still screwing my ex-wife, I assume."

"Of course you assume. You always assume. The thing is, Derek, and I think it's probably news to you – that you don't always know what the hell you're talking about."

"I don't have time for your games, Mark. If you don't know where Addison is, fine." He turns to leave.

"Back in New York."

"What?" Derek turns around again.

Mark raises his eyebrows.

"She went back to New York – " Derek swallows. Because of the case. It has to be. It's bad. He'll need to –

"Wow, you look pretty affected for someone who never wanted to see her again."

"Excuse me?" He stares at Mark, his heart pounding.

"Relax, Derek, she didn't go back to New York. I'm just messing with you."

He actually takes a step forward before he can stop himself. What he wouldn't give to curl his hand into a fist and mark that smirking face again.

"Stay away from me."

"What would she do in New York, Derek?" Mark's tone is a taunt. "You're here . I'm here. Did you forget she sold her practice, gave up all her friends ... for you?"

"Don't even think about making me out to be the villain here."

"I don't have to. You did a pretty good job of it yourself."

Derek turns and walks away. He's finished with Mark. He should have been finished with Mark a long time ago, but he's definitely finished now.

Back in New York …

So he was lying about that. Except it doesn't sound that far-fetched. She used to go sometimes when she was …

But Mark can't be counted on for honesty.

What was that the interns said? That Addison was working with someone else.

…

"Dr. Torres?"

She's finishing a conversation with another doctor, and nods at him with a gesture suggesting he should wait. He does.

"Dr. Shepherd." She approaches when she's finished. "Can I help you?"

"Do you know where Addison is?"

Torres blinks. "Do I know where Addison is?"

Derek tries another phrasing: "Have you seen her this morning?"

"No, I haven't."

Damn it. "But you saw her last night."

"Excuse me?"

"You had a case with her," he prompts.

Torres looks down at the chart she's holding. "Yeah, I had a case with her."

Derek swallows. She's not exactly making this easy. "How did she … seem?"

"How did she seem?"

"Dr. Torres," he says impatiently.

"I don't understand what you're asking," she responds.

"I'm asking … if Addison was okay."

Something flickers in Torres's dark eyes too quickly for her to lower them.

She doesn't say anything … but she doesn't have to. The answer is clear. He studies the linoleum patterns under his feet for a moment, trying not to let his memory shift. Trying not to remember-

"Shepherd."

He looks up.

"Leave her alone."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't think seeing you is the ray of sunshine she needs. No offense," she adds carelessly.

"No offense," he repeats, annoyed. "Dr. Torres, you don't – "

"I don't know anything," she cuts him off. "I know. Poor dreamy brain surgeon, can't catch a break, everyone trying to kill his buzz."

"Dr. Torres…"

"No, really, it's great that you're so happy. So freaking happy. Except Addison has been walking around this hospital like a ghost for weeks and you never said a damned thing, so yeah, I don't think you need to be – happying all over her right now."

He winces. "I hardly think – "

"Yeah, I noticed that," she interrupts.

"Dr. Torres," he says coolly. "I outrank you, you know."

"In the OR you do. On charts you do. And I respect that, sure, but as a human being? That is definitely up for grabs."

He doesn't say anything.

"Look," her voice softens. "I'm not a resident right now and you're not an attending. I'm Addison's friend and you … you're the guy that broke her."

He blinks. "Since when are you two friends?"

"Since the – since whenever, Shepherd. You have a problem with that?"

"No," he says, surprised. "I think it's a good thing."

Now it's her turn to look surprised.

"You think it's a good thing, she repeats doubtfully.

"Yes. She could use a friend, apparently, and you're a better choice than Sloan. I mean … other than an ill-advised bar night or two in medical school, there's no reason to believe she'll try to sleep with you."

Torres's eyes darken. "You really are an ass. Honestly, I have no idea what Addison or Meredith sees in you."

Her nostrils flare and he realizes he's lost control of the situation. She hates him. She thinks he's – and she's not going to tell him where Addison is and she doesn't understand.

Of course she doesn't.

It's not like they've told anyone here.

Except if she and Addison are friends, then maybe –

She turns to stalk away and he has to stop her.

"Dr. Torres, wait – "

She half turns, looking at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'm sorry. I'm not – good at this," he gestures vaguely toward the air that held their heated conversation. "Just … can you please tell me if you know where my wife is?"

"You mean your ex-wife."

"That's what I said."

"No, you – okay, fine. As far as I know, she's not here."

"Not here." He pauses. "You mean she's home?"

"Home." Callie laughs but doesn't sound amused. "I guess if that's what you're going to call the hotel room she lives in then sure, she's home."

Something in his stomach feels heavy. "She's living in a hotel room?"

"Where the hell did you think she was living? Or were you too busy parading your great mood around this hospital to give it any thought?"

Her harsh words float past him. The last time he saw Addison, she was in a hotel room, but he assumed it was just for the night. Admittedly … it never occurred to him to ask. She packed her things from the trailer when he wasn't there. That's what civil divorcing people do, they give each other space to … pack, don't they? To separate their things? Except she never quite finished, didn't pick up the last of it, not yet.

There are still a few weatherproof tubs on the porch. He could ship them somewhere or ... he hasn't reminded her of them.

"Shepherd."

He looks up.

"Okay, listen." Torres lowers her voice. "I don't know why I'm telling you this and I swear to god if you hurt her again – "

"Again?"

"Shut up," she says firmly. "Look. All I'm going to say, about … yesterday … is that she wasn't okay."

His stomach clenches. "You mean after –"

"Yeah, I mean after. She wasn't okay. She - asked me to get a drink and I would have but I got and by the time I got out of the OR she was gone."

He's stuck on three words. She wasn't okay.

She's okay, right? She was fine this morning, she was kicking like crazy. She has to be okay. She's okay, right? Tell me she's okay! Derek, why won't they say anything?

"She wasn't okay," he says softly.

"She wasn't okay," Torres says, looking at him strangely. "And she, uh, she emailed to say she called in sick today."

"Addison doesn't get sick," he says automatically, his mind elsewhere, his hands clenching.

"I'm just telling you what she said."

"Okay." He nods, wondering if his voice sounds as strange to Torres as it does in his own head. Hollow, echoing, like he's opened up something empty.

Torres is studying his face. "Okay," she repeats. "So if you want to talk to your wife, I guess you know where to find her now."

"Ex-wife," Derek corrects.

"Yeah." There's an expression on Torres's face he can't identify. "That's what I said."

…

Of course he knows how to get to the hotel. He knows her room number, assuming she hasn't moved. He doesn't want to know her room number, but –

2214.

There it is, popping into his head uninvited. Last time they sent him up because he was her husband and he had ID and … they probably shouldn't do that, as a policy, but they did. They didn't announce him, and she was surprised to see him. Maybe if she'd known he was coming upstairs things would have gone differently.

She was … spacey, when he saw her that night. Numb. Maybe drunk, he didn't really think about it. He came to say his piece and he did and he was doing the right thing, telling her before starting things with Meredith. Ending it the way he should have.

She never looked at him when Mark stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, looking rage-inducingly pleased with himself. Just stared blankly ahead, frozen shoulders in her white robe.

2214. He walks through the lobby as if he belongs there and no one stops him. She's the one who taught him how to do that. It wasn't surgery or being at the top of his class or the paychecks they started giving him when he started doing things no one else could. Commanding a room, that was all Addison, and no one stops him in the lobby.

No one prevents him from getting into the elevator and riding all the way to the 22nd floor.

His feet carry him with very little input along the carpeted hallway and her frozen face floats in front of his eyes. I'm sorry I did that. Yeah, I'm sorry you did that too.

Then he's knocking and she's opening the door - only halfway but enough to see him and enough for her eyes to widen when she sees him.

"I ... thought you were room service," she says woodenly.

"I'm having deja vu," he says, and regrets joking when she doesn't smile.

"That deja vu is my life, Derek. What else do you think I eat in this place? Am I supposed to cook on the ... bed?"

"No ... but to be fair you never cooked in the kitchen, either, when you had one." She still doesn't smile. He rests a hand on the door. "Are you going to let me in?"

"Why are you here?"

"To talk to you."

She shakes her head. "But why - we don't talk. We're done."

"We're divorced," he corrects her. He waits for her to say potato, potahto, like she would have in the past. She always liked their wordplay.

"Derek ... what are you doing here?"

"Dr. Torres told me you were ... off today."

She freezes, subtly enough that maybe someone else wouldn't notice but her face is emblazoned in his memory for better or for worse and he sees the information register.

"You know," she says quietly.

"I know," he says.

She blinks rapidly, the way she does when she's fighting back tears.

"Addison…"

"Don't," she says.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to see if you were - "

"Stop."

He stops. She doesn't say anything at all, just rubs the bridge of her nose.

"Headache?"

She ignores him.

"How much did you drink last night?"

She looks at him silently for a moment. "Not as much as I'll need to drink tonight to forget this conversation."

But some conversations … you can't forget.

Addison … Derek … we need to talk about the baby.

You have to say it. If you don't say it, I won't believe you.

Her fingers clenched in his, foreheads pressed together so her tears wet his face, the coaxing voice of the OB. Addison, you can do this, just push once more. You need to push once more. Derek, can you … ? The OB sounded tired, he remembers, like this was taking something out of her too. Like she hurt – maybe she needed a drink afterwards. That's all. That's the thing about patients, even if it hurts, you put yourself together and go back home.

Derek and Addison, though? Afterwards?

Forget it.

Well. Maybe they weren't broken. It was a fissure, a little crack that started to widen until they shattered.

And then they weren't Derek and Addison anymore.

She's looking at him. There are mascara smudges under her eyes – last night's makeup that must have run down her cheeks. She always washed her face before bed. Always, no matter what –

So it's bad.

"What do you want from me, Derek?"

They're his words, what do you want from me, Addison? But that doesn't mean he knows how to answer them.

"I want to … talk to you," he says quietly, not necessarily knowing it's true until the words leave his mouth but then they're out there.

And she looks at him for a long moment in which he wonders if he should have said anything at all. Then finally, slowly, she pulls the door the rest of the way open and stands back to let him in.

To be continued? What do you think? You know the drill: you want more, press the magic button. I promise I'm still updating my WIP. I mean, I posted an enormous Climbing Way chapter last night so you know I'm still updating my WIPs! But sometimes a plot bunny demands to be written. So ... review? Lots of love from the pure Addek trash that is me.

Terra Incognita loosely translates to uncharted territory. The term was thrown around by various Camping Men in "Where the Boys Are," but I think it also describes post-divorce Addek pretty well ...