A/N: This one-shot is set shortly after Addison and Derek's divorce. I'll warn you now, it's pretty long for a one-shot, but it didn't seem right to break it up into several separate parts. As always, I hope you enjoy this story. And thanks so much for reading!
Who Says You Can't Go Home?
These are my streets, the only life I've ever known.
Who says you can't go home?
Addison frowned as an unfamiliar number appeared on her cell phone. "Addison Montgomery," she answered.
"Dr. Montgomery," a female voice rang out, "this is Chelsea Hanson."
"Excuse me, who?" Addison asked in confusion.
"Chelsea Hanson," the woman repeated. "Your real estate agent."
"Oh," Addison said quickly. "Right, of course. What can I do for you, Chelsea?"
"I'm calling about your brownstone," Chelsea explained. "I know that you and your husband recently put it on the market, but-"
"Ex-husband," Addison corrected. "If we were still together, the place wouldn't be on the market," she muttered.
"I'm sorry," Chelsea apologized. "Anyway, I realize that you and your ex-husband only just recently put your brownstone on the market, but it's already attracting a lot of interest, and I'd love to show it to prospective buyers, but a lot of your things are still there. So, I guess, I guess I was just wondering whether you were planning on returning to New York to retrieve your things, or if I should just get rid of everything."
"Oh," Addison stammered. "I, uh, I hadn't really thought about it," she admitted. It was the truth. When Derek took her back, in Seattle, she had naively expected that things between them would just fall back into place, and that they'd eventually end up back in Manhattan – that obviously hadn't been the case.
"Well, it looks like you still have some very expensive furniture, clothing, and home accessories left in your brownstone," Chelsea went on, cutting into Addison's thoughts. "But the decision is yours, of course."
"I'll fly out to New York and decide what I want to keep and what I want to get rid of," Addison said decisively.
"Oh, good," Chelsea approved. "And your husband?"
"Ex-husband," Addison sighed.
"Right," Chelsea said apologetically.
"What about him?" Addison asked warily.
"Well isn't he going to fly out to New York too?"
"Why would he fly out to New York with me?" Addison asked. "We're divorced. And he gave me the brownstone in the divorce."
"Oh," Chelsea stuttered. "It's just, well, there's a lot of expensive furniture and clothing…both women's and men's… and I just, I figured that you were probably on good terms with each other since you're both living in Seattle and all."
Addison couldn't help laughing bitterly at that assumption. She and Derek certainly weren't on good terms with each other; she couldn't help reflect on the last words that Derek had said to her: All I want is Seattle. I want Seattle and want never to see you again.
"I guess I could talk to him," Addison muttered, figuring it probably wouldn't do any good. "But, either way, I'll fly out to New York."
"Good," Chelsea approved. "Oh, and, Dr. Montgomery?"
"Yes?"
"I really would encourage you and your ex-husband to fly out to New York as soon as possible. Like I said, your brownstone is attracting a lot of interest, and we're losing potential buyers with every day that we wait to show it."
"Okay," Addison nodded. "Let me talk to Derek and my boss, and then I'll fly out as soon as I can."
xxxxx
"Looks like we brought the rain with us," Addison muttered as she and Derek stepped out of the taxi into the pouring rain, and made their way up the steps to their brownstone.
"Yeah," Derek nodded, as he watched Addison reach into her purse to retrieve her keys. Truth be told, he was still trying to wrap his head around the situation that he was in. One minute, he had completely severed ties with his ex-wife, telling her that he never wanted to see her again; the next, she was inviting him to go back to the brownstone to get his things. And what's worse, he had accepted her offer. He didn't care what Addison did with their furniture, and he didn't really care about reclaiming his old clothes – his sense of style had evolved anyway. But there were some medical books and journals in his office that he wanted, so he agreed to make the trip. He also agreed because he could tell, just by watching Addison, that there was no way in hell that she thought he'd go back to New York, and a small, petulant part of him couldn't resist proving her wrong. So he agreed to go.
Addison told him that they needed to make the trip sooner rather than later, so they went to Richard together to ask for some time off. What they hadn't counted on was Richard sending them to New York together. They had just kind of assumed that she would fly out first and retrieve her things, and he would fly out when she returned. But fate or luck or karma or Richard Webber wasn't that kind – and they ended up in New York together.
"The place still looks the same," Addison said quietly, as she and Derek walked into the brownstone. She scanned the foyer, and she felt a dull pain in her chest, when her eyes landed on a framed picture of her and Derek on their wedding day.
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and forced herself to look away from the picture, before slipping off her jacket and hanging it up in the closet. "I can take your coat," she offered to Derek, and Derek took off his jacket and handed it to her.
"So," he began uncomfortably. "How do you want to do this? I guess you can pack your things…I'll pack my things…and then…"
"That sounds good," Addison nodded.
"Okay," Derek agreed, as he looked around the brownstone. "You know, it's strange to think about other people living here," he said quietly.
Addison raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why's that?" she asked. "We don't live here anymore."
"Yeah, I guess," Derek nodded. "It's just…remember the night we moved in here?"
"Derek," Addison said softly.
"What?" Derek asked, as he and Addison made their way into the kitchen. "Don't you remember?"
Addison sighed sadly, and met her ex-husband's eyes. "Of course I do."
"I like this neighborhood already," Derek grinned, as he opened the door to the brownstone, with Addison following right behind him.
Addison smiled at her husband. "I'm glad. But, Derek, we really haven't seen much of the neighborhood yet."
"I know," Derek agreed, "but I can tell already that I like the Chinese restaurant that we just took out from," he said, gesturing to the bag of takeout in his hand.
"How can you be so sure?" Addison asked. "We haven't even tried it yet."
"True," Derek conceded, "but the owner, Li, kept complimenting us, and telling us what a good-looking couple we are. I like him."
"Well, let's see if he knows how to make a good veggie dumpling before we decide anything," Addison chuckled, as she and Derek made their way towards the kitchen. "Crap, I forgot the furniture isn't coming until tomorrow," she said with a slight frown.
Derek shrugged. "Let's just eat on the floor," he suggested.
Addison nodded, as she and Derek sat down on the kitchen floor together.
"Okay, let's see," Derek began, as he started removing the Chinese takeout from the bag, "we've got an order of steamed veggie dumplings, an order of steamed chicken with vegetables, and an order of shrimp with lobster sauce."
"Perfect," Addison smiled, accepting a pair of chopsticks from Derek.
"Do you have the wine?" Derek asked.
"I do," Addison nodded, holding up a bottle of cabernet. "But, unfortunately, I don't have wine glasses, and we haven't unpacked ours yet."
Derek grinned mischievously. "We could always just drink from the bottle."
"One step ahead of you, Der," Addison smirked, as she opened the bottle of wine and began to take a sip.
"Wait, we should drink to something," Derek cut in, before Addison could take a sip of wine.
"Okay," Addison nodded. "What should we drink to?"
Derek thought about it for a moment, and smiled. "How about our brownstone?"
"Okay," Addison laughed, raising the bottle of wine in Derek's direction. "To our brownstone." And Derek watched adoringly as his always-classy wife drank wine directly from the bottle.
"Here," she smiled, handing him the bottle of cabernet, and chuckling as she watched her husband take a sip. "Look at us," she laughed, "two respected surgeons sitting on the floor, drinking wine from the bottle."
Derek met his wife's eyes and smirked. "At least I'm pulling it off," he teased.
"I hate to break it to you, Honey," Addison chuckled, "but you're not really pulling it off too well either."
"All your class must be wearing off on me," Derek joked.
"Is that necessarily a bad thing?" Addison countered.
"Not at all," Derek murmured, leaning in and kissing Addison softly on the lips.
"Hey, I was thinking," Addison began seductively, as she ran her fingers through her husband's hair, "what if, tonight, we weren't classy?"
Derek looked at his wife in confusion. "What?" he asked.
Addison leaned in and kissed Derek deeply. "What if, tonight, we weren't classy?" she murmured against his lips.
Derek felt his pulse quicken at his wife's suggestion. He immediately pulled Addison in, and crashed his lips against hers, tasting the cabernet that was still lingering on her lips, and deeply inhaling her Chanel perfume. She responded in kind, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck, and running her hands through his wavy hair. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt, while he tugged at the zipper of her pencil skirt, both unable to undress each other fast enough. She began trailing feather-light kisses down his neck and across his muscular chest as she began unzipping his pants, while he expertly removed her Diane Von Furstenberg wrap top.
He separated himself from her long enough to let his eyes linger over her body appreciatively. Lacy black bra, lacy black panties – even when she wasn't trying, his wife was the epitome of class.
"You know I love you, Addie," he whispered huskily in her ear.
"Yeah," Addison breathed, her lips reconnecting with his, both of their hands desperately fumbling to remove the remaining barriers of clothing.
He gently eased her onto her back, and she gasped as he entered her. Both knew that their first night in the brownstone would be one that they'd never forget.
"That was a good night," Derek said quietly, as his eyes roamed the kitchen. They had decorated it significantly since the night they had moved in, spending hours picking out the perfect kitchen table, deciding what color to paint the walls (in the end, they chose beige), and choosing just the right granite for their kitchen countertops.
"Do you want the kitchen table?" Addison asked, cutting into Derek's thoughts.
Derek shook his head. "It won't fit in my trailer," he said. "You should take it."
"Maybe," Addison said thoughtfully, as she began making her way into the living room, Derek following closely behind her.
"You know," Derek smiled, as he looked around the living room, "I don't think I'll ever be able to look at this room without thinking about Christmas. Hey, do you remember decorating our first tree here? Oh, and how about that time we both faked sick to get out of spending Christmas Eve with our families, and spent the night here, curled up on the couch together, drinking hot buttered rum instead?" Derek smiled widely at the memories. "Doesn't this room remind you of Christmas, Addie?"
Addison shrugged. The truth was, the living room didn't remind her of Christmas. Not anymore, at least.
"Addison," Derek prodded gently, noticing the change in his ex-wife's demeanor.
"I'm fine," Addison insisted quickly.
But Derek knew she wasn't fine. "Come on, Addie," he urged, "what does this room remind you of?"
"It's not important," Addison said quietly.
"Yes it is," Derek disagreed. "I want to know."
Addison let out a frustrated sigh. "Why is this so important to you, Derek?"
It was a fair question. But Derek didn't have an answer for her. He couldn't explain why it was so important that they relive their memories in the brownstone, or why it was so important for her to tell him about the types of memories that their living room brought back. He just knew it was important.
"Please, Addison."
Addison met her ex-husband's pleading eyes and swallowed hard. "Okay."
Addison looked at the clock on the wall and sighed – 11:30 pm, and still no sign of Derek. She knew that she shouldn't be surprised but, still, she was. This was the third night this week she had waited up for him.
She was exhausted. She'd woken up early for work, and had spent the entire day in surgery. All she really wanted to do was go to bed…lay her head on her husband's chest and go to sleep. But she was tired of going to sleep alone. She had done it in the beginning. When Derek had first started to pull away from her, she had went to sleep alone, figuring that it was just a phase he was going through, and that things would change. But they never did. And then she starting waking up to find Derek already gone. It had been bad enough that she wasn't seeing him at night; now she wasn't seeing him in the mornings either.
She couldn't remember the last time that they'd spent a day together, just the two of them. And it had been weeks since they had brown bagged it on top of The Empire State Building. And even longer since they had last had sex. So Addison waited up for Derek. Every night, she'd sit on the living room couch, a blanket wrapped around her, waiting for her husband. Because they no longer saw each other every morning, and they no longer had dates, and they no longer ate lunch together, and they no longer had sex. But they could see each other at night. Addison would make sure of it…even if it meant being weak and pathetic and waiting up for Derek on the living room couch night after night.
Addison could hear Derek's key unlocking the front door, and she quickly straightened herself up on the couch, and waited for her husband to walk into the living room.
"Derek," she smiled, as he crossed the room.
He didn't return her smile. He didn't say anything. Just gave her a nod, and headed upstairs.
She knew she shouldn't have been surprised but, still, she was. And it hurt – hurt like hell – every night that she'd wait up for Derek, on the living room couch, hoping that she'd get more than just a head nod or an indifferent greeting from him when he finally came home.
But then it stopped hurting, and it just became routine. And she stopped expecting him to be there in the morning when she woke up. And she stopped hoping that he'd pull her aside, in a hospital corridor, and ask her if she had lunch plans. And she knew better than to expect sex on any type of regular basis. But the real kicker was when she stopped waiting up for him. It was a gradual process, and she hated herself every time she caved and found herself heading down to the living room to wait for him. She knew she was being desperate, but sometimes people do desperate things to get someone's attention.
She promised herself time and time again that she wasn't going to act so weak and pathetic…that she wasn't going to drive herself crazy seeking Derek's attention or approval. She broke this promise. She couldn't keep it in New York and, what's worse, she certainly didn't keep it in Seattle.
"Addison," Derek breathed, when his ex-wife had finished reliving her memory of the living room. "I'm sorry. I didn't- I'm sorry."
Addison shrugged. "It's fine," she insisted, as she quickly wiped a tear from her cheek, further proving that it was anything but fine.
"It's not fine," Derek disagreed, resisting the urge to pull Addison into his arms. "Addison, I," Derek stammered, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. He sat down on the couch and motioned for her to join him. "Hey, did I tell you about my surgery yesterday?" he asked.
"Derek, you don't have to do this."
"No, I've actually been meaning to tell you about this case," Derek insisted, moving closer to Addison on the couch. "I removed a brain tumor, yesterday. Stevens assisted. Our patient was an eight-year-old boy named Ryan. He'd been to four other surgeons before he came to me, and they all told him that his tumor was inoperable. And, yesterday, Stevens and I operated on him. And we removed the entire tumor." Derek swallowed hard. "Ryan has a long recovery ahead of him but, I don't know, I'm optimistic. Something tells me he's going to be okay."
Addison smiled. "That's really great, Derek."
"Thank you," Derek nodded. "Did you have surgery, yesterday?" he asked.
Addison nodded.
"Tell me about it," Derek said softly.
"Derek, it was just a C-section. I do them all the time."
Derek met Addison's eyes and smiled. "Tell me anyway."
"Karev and I…we delivered twins," Addison began hesitantly. "A boy and a girl. Delivering the little boy was pretty routine, but the little girl's umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck. We were able to unwrap it quickly, but she wasn't breathing as well as we would have liked when she was born, so we gave her oxygen, and she's a fighter, so she pulled through."
Derek smiled. "What were-"
"Hey, Derek?" Addison interrupted, before Derek could say any more.
"Yeah?"
"Can we maybe go to another room?"
Derek looked at his ex-wife in concern. "Addie," he prodded gently.
"Derek, please," she begged.
"Addie, about all those nights…I'm sorry. I was hurtful and stupid. And I'm sorry."
"Derek, please, let's not talk about it anymore. Let's just, let's go to another room."
Derek was prepared to protest, but the pleading look in his ex-wife's eyes made him think better of it. "Okay," he agreed softly. He stood up from the couch and extended his hand to Addison, half expecting to be rejected. But she took his hand, and Derek couldn't help smiling at this.
He led her into their first floor bathroom, figuring it was a neutral room…that it wouldn't trigger any sad or hurtful memories.
He turned to Addison and smiled. "What do you think of when you see this room?" he asked mischievously.
Addison raised an eyebrow. "Honestly?"
"Honestly," he nodded.
Addison chuckled. "Holding Nancy's hair back after I gave her food poisoning that one Thanksgiving."
"Addison," Derek scolded. "With all of the shower sex and all of the bubble baths we've taken together in here, the first thing that comes to your mind, when you see this room, is Nancy and The Hotdog Thanksgiving?"
Addison shrugged. "I know you were busy being the hero and making hotdogs, so you probably don't remember, but it was a pretty memorable night for me."
Derek shook his head in amusement. "I remember."
"Nancy, I am so sorry," Addison apologized, wrinkling her nose in disgust, as she watched her sister-in-law vomit violently into the toilet.
"Hey," Derek said, pushing the bathroom door open slightly, and handing his wife a bottle of water. "I thought this might help…you know, get some fluids back in her."
Addison nodded. "Thanks, Derek." She looked at her husband questioningly. "How's the rest of the family doing? Did anyone else get sick?"
Derek shook his head. "Everyone else is fine. They're all in the kitchen eating hotdogs. But, then again, Nancy's always had a weak stomach."
Addison cringed at that. "Hey, Nancy," Addison said, as her sister-in-law continued to expel the contents of her stomach into the toilet, "do you think that maybe you don't have food poisoning? I mean, I don't know, maybe you're pregnant."
Nancy stopped vomiting and met her sister-in-law's eyes. "Trust me, I'm not."
"Are you sure?" Addison asked weakly.
"Yeah, I'm…" But before she could get anything else out, she returned to being sick.
Addison rubbed Nancy's back gently, and looked up at her husband angrily.
Derek shrugged helplessly as Nancy continued to be sick and as Addison continued to glare at him. "You know," he began, "one day, we'll all look back on this and laugh."
"That really was funny," Derek chuckled, while Addison glared at him angrily, clearly not amused. "Oh, come on, Addie," Derek insisted, doing his best hold back a fit of laughter, "you have to admit, it was a little funny."
"How, Derek? How was it funny?" Addison demanded. "I don't see anything funny about you inviting thirty-four people over to our house, without even asking me, knowing full well that I've never cooked a turkey in my life."
"Addison."
"And then, just my luck, your sister gets salmonella, and your mother, who never liked me, accuses me of trying to kill everyone. And you, you make hotdogs, and you're the hero. You're the hero, and I'm incompetent."
"Addison, it wasn't like that," Derek disagreed. "If anything, you were the hero, that night."
Addison glared at her ex-husband angrily. "I find that hard to believe."
"You were," Derek insisted. "You were the one to give Nancy that antacid, which finally settled her stomach."
"I gave her a Tums, Derek," Addison said, rolling her eyes.
"Hey, it doesn't matter," Derek shrugged. "I think I speak for everyone who was there that night when I say that it doesn't matter what you gave Nancy…we were all just grateful you were able to make her stop puking." He looked at Addison and grinned widely when he noticed a small smile playing on her face. "See," he smirked, "I told you we'd look back on that day and laugh."
"Oh, I'm not laughing," Addison insisted, doing her best to keep the smile that was forming on her face in check.
"One day?" Derek asked hopefully.
Addison met his eyes and smiled. "One day."
A small smile came to Derek's lips, as he and Addison held eye contact. "So," he stammered, forcing himself to look away from her, "let's, uh, let's check out another room."
"Right," Addison breathed, trying to ignore the fluttering of her heart. It had been so long since Derek had last looked at her that way. "That's, uh, that's a good idea," she stuttered, as she and Derek made their way into the office.
Addison sat down on the black, leather couch in the office, and scanned the room. It was filled with medical journals and anatomy books – you'd never guess that the room hadn't been used in months.
"You know," Derek began, as he sat down next to his ex-wife on the couch, "even with all of the medical journals and textbooks in here, when I think about this room, I don't think about that stuff." He swallowed hard. "I think about-"
"Gracie," Addison filled in.
"Yeah," Derek nodded. "I can't help it."
Addison sighed heavily. "Me either," she said softly.
"Derek," Addison called out, as she walked into the brownstone. "Derek," she repeated, when she didn't hear her husband answer. She walked from room to room looking for her husband, and finally spotted him in the office, sitting at his desk, with his head buried in a bunch of medical journals. "Hey," she said softly.
He looked up and met her eyes. "I, uh, I didn't hear you come in," he said quietly.
"Is everything okay," she asked, taking in the pain-stricken expression on her husband's face. "What are you doing, anyway?"
"I'm researching," Derek answered simply.
Addison looked at him quizzically. "What are you researching?" she asked, moving behind her husband, and massaging his tense shoulders. "Derek, what's wrong?"
Derek turned to face his wife. "I, uh, I need to find a way to save her. There has to be something I'm missing. I need to save her."
"Save who?" Addison asked in confusion, as she sat down in Derek's lap, and began running her fingers though his hair gently.
"My patient," Derek sighed. "Do you remember that little girl I was telling you about? Do you remember that patient of mine that I took you to meet?"
Addison nodded. "Gracie, right?"
"Yeah."
"Wait," Addison clarified, "I thought, I thought you said she was doing better. I thought you said that it looked like she was going to be okay," Addison stammered, as she remembered the little girl with big blue eyes and a brave smile that Derek had introduced her to.
"We found another tumor this morning," Derek said quietly. "It's inoperable."
"Derek, I'm so sorry," Addison apologized, kissing her husband gently on the cheek. "I know how much Gracie means to you."
"We were looking at wigs together," Derek choked out. "Just the other day, we were looking at wigs together. And Gracie, she said that she wanted red hair like yours…so we were looking at red wigs." He swallowed hard and met his wife's eyes. "I need to find a way to save her, Addison. I need to."
Addison nodded. "What can I do, Derek?" she asked. "What can I do for you?"
"Stay with me?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah," she said, caressing his cheek with her hand, while he turned his attention back to the medical journals in front of him.
They stayed like that for hours – he scoured every neurosurgery journal and textbook in the office, while she sat on his lap, comforting him, occasionally trying to help by reading through a journal or skimming a textbook. Both knew they were up against an impossible task. But they were Addison and Derek, and they didn't quit.
"Hey, Addie," Derek said quietly, after several hours of unsuccessful research.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"You know, I never expected Gracie's death to hit me as hard as it did," Addison admitted, as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "I mean, she wasn't even my patient."
"Yeah," Derek nodded, moving closer to his ex-wife on the couch. "It hit me hard too."
"It's funny," Addison began, "you and I both had a lot of professional successes in this office. I know I wrote my most prestigious journal article in this office. And I think you did as well. But, I don't know, all of that kind of fades into the background. I don't think I'll ever forget all those hours we spent in here desperately trying to find a way to save Gracie."
"Me either," Derek agreed, looking up and meeting Addison's eyes. His eyes flickered to her lips and then back to her eyes, and he hesitated for a moment before drawing her in and molding his lips against hers. This kiss caught her off guard, but she couldn't bring herself to fight it. Derek's kiss was comforting, and she needed that. So she kissed back, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck, and gently running her fingers through his hair. He pulled her in even closer and deepened the kiss, his tongue meshing with hers. And as the kisses grew more desperate, more urgent, she felt her heart begin to race in excitement. She missed having his lips on hers. She missed having his hands in her hair. She missed the smell of his Ives St. Laurent cologne. She missed him. But then he began tugging at her shirt, and reality set in.
"Derek," she breathed, gently pulling away from her ex-husband, "we can't do this."
Derek swallowed hard, as reality crashed down on him as well. "I'm so sorry, Addison. I, I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry."
"I wasn't thinking either," Addison admitted, gently rubbing her ex-husband's thigh. "I kissed you back."
"You did kiss me back," Derek said smugly. "Still," he continued, his voice softening, "I'm sorry."
"Me too," Addison said. "So, uh, hey, I, uh, I'm starting to get kind of hungry," she began, desperate to change the topic of conversation. "Do you want to order dinner or something?"
"Uh, yeah…yeah, that sounds good," Derek agreed. "What do you feel like getting?"
Addison shrugged. "Chinese food from Li's place?"
"Sounds good to me," Derek smiled, as he dialed Li's number.
"Put it on speakerphone," Addison requested. "Maybe Li will answer."
Derek nodded, as he put his phone on speakerphone. "Hi," he said into the phone, "I'd like to place an order for takeout. The last name is Shepherd."
"Are my ears lying to me?" asked the excited voice on the other end of the line. "Derek Shepherd, is that you?"
"It is, Li," Derek laughed. "How've you been?"
"You're back in New York?" Li asked incredulously.
"Just for the day," Derek answered. "We head back to Seattle tomorrow."
"Oh, so Addison came out here with you," Li assessed. "How is she? Tell me Derek, have you taken my advice?"
Derek looked at Addison uncomfortably. "Uh, no, no, I haven't," he stammered, hoping that Li wouldn't press the issue further.
"Derek," Li said disapprovingly. "I've been telling you this for years now. You and Addison should really just go ahead and have a baby already. I know you want one. We've been over this a thousand times. What's stopping you?"
Derek didn't have the heart to tell Li that his and Addison's divorce, among many other things, was what was stopping him. "Uh, I think I, I think I'll just place my order," Derek said uncomfortably, as both he and Addison continued to blush brightly at Li's earlier comment. "I'll have-"
"Wait," Li interrupted. "Let me see if I remember. You want one order of steamed vegetable dumplings, one order of steamed chicken with vegetables, and one order of shrimp with lobster sauce. Is that right?"
"That's right," Derek smiled. "You remembered."
"Of course I remembered," Li insisted. "You and Addison…you're two of my very favorite customers. And I'm not just saying that."
"Thanks, Li," Derek grinned.
"So, your order will be ready in about thirty minutes," Li said. "And when you come and pick it up, we can talk about why you're not a father yet, Derek Shepherd."
Derek shot Addison an apologetic glance. "That sounds like a plan, Li," he said into the phone. "I'll see you in a half hour."
"Okay," Li agreed. "And say hello to your wife for me."
"I will," Derek nodded. "Bye, Li."
Derek hung up the phone and turned to his ex-wife. "So, Li says hi," Derek chuckled, doing his best to break the awkward tension that was so palpable.
"You and Li used to talk about us having children?" Addison asked.
Derek shrugged guiltily. "Maybe sometimes," he admitted.
Addison raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
"Okay, we talked about it a lot," Derek confessed.
"Really?" Addison asked.
"Yeah. Li always thought we were an attractive couple, so whenever I would come in, he'd always ask me when we were planning on having children."
"And what did you tell him?" Addison asked curiously. She and Derek had talked a lot about their plans to have children when they first got married, but it had been years since they had last had that discussion.
Derek sighed. "In the beginning, I always found a way to deflect the question…I'd tell him that we were both very busy with work, or that it was something that we both wanted, just not right now. But, I don't know, as time went on…" Derek trailed off uncomfortably. "I don't know."
"You wanted a baby," Addison filled in.
Derek met his ex-wife's eyes hesitantly. "I did," he admitted.
"And you and Li talked about that?" Addison asked.
"We did," Derek nodded.
"You never talked to me about it," Addison pointed out.
"I know."
"Derek, you should of said something. You could of-"
"I couldn't," Derek cut in. "It wasn't the right time. I wanted a baby back when I started treating Gracie. And when she died, having a baby with you was all I could think about. But you and I were both up for head of department positions. We wanted those jobs, and we got those jobs. And a baby…well…"
"Are you saying we wouldn't have gotten those jobs if we had had a baby?" Addison asked, doing her best to tamp down her anger.
"Hey, you know as well as I do, how these things work," Derek defended.
She did know. And, fair or not, them having a baby probably would have hurt their chances of getting their head of department positions. But, then again, she liked to think that things were changing, and that maybe them having a baby wouldn't have affected their professionals aspirations.
"It was never the right time," Derek said gently. "For either of us."
It could have been the right time, Addison thought to herself. But that didn't matter anymore, so she didn't argue – just nodded in agreement.
"Hey, let's go check the guest room," Derek suggested brightly, trying to put an end to the uncomfortable turn that his and Addison's conversation had taken.
"Yeah, okay, that sounds good," Addison stammered, as she and Derek began making their way up the stairs into the guestroom.
"So," Derek smiled, as they walked into the guestroom, "what ridiculous Archer or Mark memory does this room make you think of?"
Addison bit her lower lip in thought. Between all the one-night stands that Archer had drunkenly brought back to the brownstone, and all the nights that Mark had stayed over, there was no shortage of guestroom memories. But, for Addison, the guestroom was never about Archer or Mark.
"Addie," Derek prodded gently. And Addison racked her brain trying to come up with a funny Archer or Mark guestroom memory, because she knew that couldn't tell Derek what the guestroom really made her think of.
Except, suddenly, she was. "I, uh, I never really associated this room with a particular Archer or Mark memory," she began hesitantly. "I, um, I always thought that this room would make the perfect baby's room one day."
"Really?" Derek choked out in surprise.
Addison nodded. "Yeah. I mean, it has a great view," she explained, walking over to the window, and drawing back the curtains, and it's close to the master bedroom. I don't know…it always just seemed like the perfect nursery to me."
Derek smiled as he listened to his ex-wife, and let himself get lost in that fantasy. "How would you have wanted to decorate it?" he asked. He knew the question was out of line, but the words came out of his mouth so quickly, he didn't have time to think about the appropriateness of his question.
"It doesn't matter, Derek."
"Please, Addie," Derek begged. "I know you, and I know you know exactly how you would have wanted to decorate this room."
"Come on, Derek," Addison sighed. "What is talking about this going to accomplish?"
"You wanted a baby with me," Derek said softly.
Addison nodded. "You knew that."
"You never told me you wanted to turn this room into a baby's room."
"It was never the right time," Addison said, echoing Derek words from earlier.
"Oh," Derek said quietly; and even though she knew she shouldn't have cared, Addison felt her heart break a little as she took in the look of disappointment on Derek's face.
"Cream walls," she said suddenly. "And a cream-colored crib. It would give the room a light and airy feel…you need that in Manhattan. And then, then we could accent with light blue or pale pink, depending…"
"Yeah," Derek smiled, his eyes crinkling a little. "Yeah, we could."
"Could have," Addison corrected.
"Right," Derek nodded, swallowing hard. "Right, yeah…could have." He looked around what could have been his son or daughter's room, and felt a pang of sadness hit him, as he thought about what could have been.
"Let's move on to another room," Addison suggested lightly, sensing Derek's disappointment.
"Okay," Derek agreed, lingering just a moment longer in the guestroom that, to him, would never again be just the guestroom.
He shut the door to the guestroom gently, and made his way towards the master bedroom. Addison was already inside the room, but as he stood in the doorway, he found himself unable to enter. A wave of nausea washed over him, as memories of the night of Addison's affair came rushing back to him. It was Mark's jacket on the living room couch. It was finding his wife in bed with his best friend. It was flannel bed sheets. It was hurt and betrayal and tears…pleading, desperation, and anger. It was feeling like he couldn't breathe. It was something so pedestrian, common, dirty, and cruel…especially cruel.
"Derek," Addison prodded, when she noticed her ex-husband lingering in the doorway.
But he couldn't answer her. He could feel the vomit rising in his throat as he tried, but failed, to think about something – anything – but the affair.
"Derek," Addison repeated.
"We shouldn't have come back here, Addison," Derek muttered.
Addison turned to face him. "Excuse me?"
"This was a bad idea," Derek said, suddenly growing angry. "This is just you rubbing your affair in my face."
"What?" Addison asked, surprised by her ex-husband's sudden change in demeanor.
"Oh, come on, Addison. You inviting me to come back here was just plain cruel. You're dangling your affair in front of me."
"Dangling my affair in front of you?" Addison scoffed. "I invited you to come get your things, not to dangle my affair in front of you. That would be what you did to me when you left Meredith's panties in the pocket of your tux for me to find."
"You slept with my best friend on my favorite sheets!" Derek accused.
"And you ignored me!" Addison snapped back. "You ignored me in New York, and then you ignored me again in Seattle. You led me on. You made me believe that you wanted to make things work with me…but you never wanted to make things work with me. You never wanted me back."
"I can't have this conversation with you," Derek admitted. "I can't look at you. I look at you and I feel nauseous," he said, making his way down the stairs, Addison following closely behind him.
"Derek," Addison pleaded, tears springing to her eyes.
"I'm going to go. You stay," Derek breathed. "I'll find a hotel. I can't be in here…not with you."
"Derek," Addison whispered. "Derek, don't do this again."
Derek looked at her sadly. "I just, we, we shouldn't have come back here. I can't…I have to go."
"Fine, Derek, walk away," Addison snapped. "It's what you do best," she added quietly.
But he didn't hear her. He left – stepped outside into the pouring rain, hands shaking, heart pounding. He knew he needed to hail a cab and go to a hotel, but he couldn't move. He couldn't bring himself to move from the front steps. Without thinking about it, he turned around, and pressed his hands up against the front door, as the rain poured down on him. And as a strangled sob escaped his throat, he couldn't help but wonder if he was feeling exactly the way Addison had felt that night he threw her out in the rain.
"Addie," he choked out, hoping that his ex-wife was still standing near the front door. "Addison?"
Addison opened the front door hesitantly, and Derek stepped inside and pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered, clutching her tightly. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry too," she whispered back, as she held Derek closely, not noticing or caring that his soaking wet clothes were drenching her own clothes.
"I love you, Addison," he murmured against her hair.
"Don't say that, Derek," Addison said softly.
"I love you," Derek insisted. "I love you because you helped make me the person and doctor I am today. I love you because you because you're the reason I love Christmas so much. I love you because Gracie and The Hotdog Thanksgiving mean something to you. And I love you because you're the only person I'd ever want to start a family with. I love you, Addison," he smiled, drawing her in, and kissing her softly.
She hesitated for a moment before kissing him back, pulling him in closer, and kissing him passionately. He responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her, running his fingers through her hair. She felt herself getting lost in the kiss, but a nagging thought caused her to pull away from him.
"Meredith?" she asked breathlessly.
"What?"
"Meredith?" she repeated.
Derek looked at her adoringly. "Hey, Addie, can we not talk about my ex-girlfriend?" he murmured. "It's kind of a turnoff."
"Ex-girlfriend?" Addison asked in astonishment. Apparently, she was behind on her hospital gossip.
"Ex-girlfriend," Derek confirmed, pulling Addison back in, and kissing her tenderly.
"Hey, Derek," Addison whispered, when they broke apart.
"Yeah?"
"I love you too."
xxxxx
In the end, they decided to stay in Seattle. But they didn't sell the brownstone. It had too many memories for them to get rid of it. It became their vacation home – a place to spend Christmases and holidays and the occasional week off from work. And even though the brownstone had some bad memories, Addison and Derek made a promise to put those memories in the past where they belonged – and keep them there. The rest of the memories, however, were worth keeping. The kitchen was where it all began. They had celebrated several very happy Christmases in the living room. And the office would always be a reminder of Gracie.
And, as time went on, they made new memories in the brownstone.
Their first night back, they ate Chinese food on the floor and drank cabernet directly from the bottle, even though they had a kitchen table and plenty of wine glasses in the kitchen cabinets.
Derek proposed to Addison in the living room a few months later; she, of course, said yes.
And Addison and Derek got the cream-colored nursery and the family that they had always dreamed of. Because it was in their repainted, redecorated master bedroom that they conceived their daughter, Elizabeth Grace Shepherd.