A/N: O hai! So, I wanted a happier Addek story to tell after the last one which was just … depressing, really, for an Addek fan. So this is it. For the most part, I think. It will mostly take place in L.A., with perhaps some Seattle and/or New York. We shall see. And it will mostly be from Derek's POV, but obviously can deviate to other characters' points of view, too.

The title comes from the song If There's a Rocket Tie Me To It by Snow Patrol, as does the chapter title (obviously).

Let me know how you like it or if you think I should scrap the whole thing.

"Derek!" she shouted for what seemed the first time, though he was sure he had heard that word cut across her lips more than once in the last few seconds he had been standing there, numb. Numb, he thought. Good wordage. If there was one thing he could say to her to make her understand, it was that he was numb. His head buzzed with the shock of it.

"Derek, are you even listening to me?" She raised her arms in exasperation, and then let them fall to her sides in defeat. She looked different somehow, from the last time he had looked at her—actually looked at her. How long ago had that been, anyway? He saw her every day, but that wasn't the same as how he used to actually look at her every single chance he got. Why didn't he realize this earlier?

"Yes… Meredith, yes, I'm listening." But he wasn't. He could hear her clearly—she was only feet away from him, after all. But just like he hadn't looked at her in an immeasurable amount of time, he hadn't really listened to her, either.

"Christ, Derek. What is wrong with us?" He had expected anger and shouting and pointing out one of the flaws she seemed to find more and more of each day. But instead, he was surprised to hear a deflated tone of exasperation when she spoke.

He sighed heavily and crossed the length of the kitchen to lean against the sink next to her. He looked her straight in the eye, hoping to find a remnant of what he once saw there, but was unable. Things had changed, he knew. "I don't know, Meredith… I don't know. But I think that whatever we're doing now—it's not working."

"We are supposed to be going to Sudan in a week. But, here we are." She smiled mirthlessly, not looking at him. "Here we are in Seattle, fighting. Typical."

"It is. Typical, I mean." He didn't know what else to say; the numbness was pervasive.

"That's what I'm trying to say, Derek. I don't know when we last connected. We're constantly creating friction. Our lives are just … going two different directions. You don't want to do this. You say you do, and you pretend to be all happy with it, but you don't belong in Sudan. You know that."

"Meredith—" he started to protest, but fell silent when he remembered that she was right. Sudan was her thing, what she wanted. He had never wanted to participate. But Meredith had a way of getting him into things he had no business getting into. "You're right."

She nodded, like the revelation was not news to her. Derek wondered if she had planned this conversation, or if it really had been just another argument that had escalated into something different. He had trouble believing that. She walked away from him and sat down at the kitchen table, folding her hands in front of her. Her expression was familiar; he had seen it a thousand times if he had seen it once. It was the same detached-yet-sympathetic look all surgeons had crafted for the sole purpose of relaying bad news to the loved ones of their unluckiest patients. But Derek could not shake the feeling that this was not bad news.

"Maybe you should go," he suggested, attempting to smile like nothing was the matter. "This is what you've planned, what you've wanted to do for years. And now the timing is right. Everything is perfect, everything is squared away, you gave your word, and you have these non-refundable tickets... I don't want to hold you back, Meredith. That's the last thing that I want to do."

She smiled up at him, but it still was not the same smile he remembered. "I know," she stated simply. "What about James? I know, Mark and Lexie offered to keep up with him, and there's your mother, plus Nancy—"

"I am capable of taking care of our son you know." His words were wry, but he allowed a smile.

"Maybe you should travel. James doesn't start school for another year; this would be a good opportunity for you both to, you know, see the world or whatever."

There was a heavy pause as both contemplated what exactly they were discussing. Meredith was going to Sudan, to donate her surgical skills and time—alone. And she thought it would be a good idea if he took their son—their only son—on random excursions while she was away. She tried, when it came to James, she tried very hard. But Derek knew she was never meant for children. Anyone could tell, but of course no one would or could say anything. She lacked the proper skills to bond with her son, and while Derek didn't blame her—given her own childhood and relationship with her parents—he didn't know how to help her. Wasn't it all supposed to be internal and natural? He couldn't force that.

"That could be a good idea. At the very least, maybe we could hit the beach for a while. You know how much he loves the ocean. I think he'd like that." No, he thought, be honest, you would like that. But James did love the ocean and all the creatures in it; marine life was his favorite.

"I think this will be good for us," she said, and he was sure she must have practiced her lines before a mirror. "Doctors Without Borders requires two months minimum activity, and I signed up for six months. We could really benefit from this."

Derek smiled at the sincerity in her voice. She really wanted to make their marriage work, and he admired that. He couldn't, if he was honest with himself, find the courage to say the things she was saying. He was a coward, had always been a coward underneath his confident exterior. He knew Meredith had figured that out shortly into being married to him, and he wasn't surprised that she seemed to change her mind about him somewhat. He was supposed to be the knight-in-shining-armor type. But he would never really, internally be that person. He wasn't McDreamy, he was Just Derek, and Just Derek was a coward who was afraid to admit to himself and to his wife that his marriage was a sham. But he loved her. He couldn't recall the last time he had told her in earnest, or proven the fact to her, but he did. She was Meredith, who couldn't love her? She was his wife, the mother to his son. Of course he loved her. Lately things had just been unresponsive between the two of them. They didn't finish one another's sentences or riskily have quickies in the on-call room anymore. In short, Derek knew they had succumbed to the duly tedious routines of a five-years-married couple.

"You could say something," she put in quietly.

"Oh, I agree. Time apart, that's what we need. You go to Darfur, save lives worth saving. I'll take time off and take James fishing and other manly activities." This was what their conversations had been reduced to: summaries of the other's words just to prove you were listening. And Derek had not even been succeeding well at that of late.

"Great." A smile flitted across her face for a brief moment before she looked away from him, and down at her hands in what looked to be guilt. "I was thinking, Derek, maybe we should—just as a test run—file for separation." She spoke gently, not wanting to cause hurt.

But Derek's numbness to the situation was as unrelenting as ever. He nodded and pretended to give the matter great thought, though his mind was elsewhere. "Okay," he said simply. His eyes met hers for only a second, and they both looked away quickly.

"I guess that's that, then," said Meredith awkwardly, and she got up from the table and walked away without a second glance, leaving Derek alone in the kitchen with his buzzing head and apathetic thoughts.

---

Eleven-hundred miles away from the Shepherds' kitchen, Addison Forbes Montgomery was irritated.

"I don't have to!" A five-year-old with her mother's eyes stamped her foot and balled her fists angrily.

"Carson." Addison was trying to retain her patience and keep the urges to scream at bay. "I am your mother, and what I say goes."

The dark-haired girl let out a shrill scream. Her mother stood from the kneeling position she had been in and threw her hands up in exasperation. Her daughter was strong-willed and quick-tempered; she was haughty and smart and vivacious. She was in every way just impossible.

"You have to wear clothes to school, Carson."

"No I don't, who says? Nobody ever says you can't wear clothes to school, Mom. Nobody ever says that so you can."

"How many people do you see running around without clothes at school?" Great, Addison thought, I'm reasoning with a kindergartener. "Wait, no, I say that. Now, put your skirt on."

"I didn't have to wear clothes in preschool," Carson countered stubbornly.

"That was preschool. Now you're in kindergarten. That's big-kid school, Car. You don't want to look silly in front of Lucas and the other big kids do you?"

"No…" She looked away quickly, a pink flush creeping into her cheeks.

Addison had to bite back a smile; her daughter's first crush was on seven-year-old Lucas Wilder. And it was too cute. "It's settled then. You'll put your clothes on and you'll keep them on."

"I guess," she mumbled. But she turned to her little white-and-pink dresser and yanked out her school uniform.

"Don't forget socks," Addison reminded as she stood to leave the room.

"Duh..."

Choosing to let that one go, Addison headed for the kitchen. It was almost seven a.m., and it was well past time for coffee. Carson's sudden declaration that she had decided not to wear clothes anymore had interrupted her morning rituals that had been in place since Carson started school almost a year ago. She could hardly believe this was the fifth November she had shared with her daughter. Five years. It seemed surreal. It had been a hard decision to come by, to have Carson in vitro and give up completely on finding the man who was supposed to fill the hole in her soul. She had dated, and had casual sex, and once she thought she had been in love. But nothing was right.

"Mommy!" Carson was now bounding down the stairs. "I need a smoothie." The little girl was standing in front of her, wide-eyed and imploring. She was well too demanding for her age. Addison didn't know what else to do with her though; she could only do what she knew to do.

"Mommy doesn't have time to make you a smoothie, sweetheart. There's yoghurt in the fridge, you can have one of those."

"I don't want—"

"Carson Montgomery. I don't have time for this. I made toast, and there is juice and yoghurt in the fridge. You can have some, or you can eat breakfast at school. Either way, we need to go."

Carson huffed and stomped to the refrigerator, pulling out what she wanted and placing it on the counter. Addison wrapped up two pieces of toast in a paper towel and poured orange juice into a tumbler. She took her daughter's free hand and after what seemed a ridiculously long morning, they were finally heading out the door.

---

Sam Bennett was on his way out the door at fifteen past seven. That meant he was running late. He was running around the house trying to find his cellular when he heard it ring on the deck.

He groaned. "I hope it didn't rain last night," he muttered to himself. Running outside, he pressed "answer" and, not recognizing the number simply said his name as an answer.

"Sam!" said a familiar voice on the other end.

"Derek? What's up?" He checked his watch nervously as he locked his front door and headed to his car. Derek wasn't exactly the greatest about keeping in touch. Since he and Naomi had divorced they had seen one another maybe three times.

"Does something have to be up?"

Sam unlocked the car and stepped inside. "Well, yes, I would assume so, since you've not made contact in almost two years."

"I know." Derek's voice sounded so heavy he almost felt guilty for giving him the third degree. "And I realize this isn't exactly orthodox, but I need a favor."

"Sure," he automatically responded. Years of friendship meant something to Sam. Even if the past fifteen years had been scattered and really only amounted to a few days spent together—Derek was still his friend. "What do you need?" He buckled himself in and was prepared to leave.

"I need a place to stay."

A/N: Reviews plz? Kthxbai.