A Tale of AddisonandDerekandMark : Unhinged

Chapter 1

the morning in question

-:-

"Even good marriages fail. One minute you're standing on solid ground, the next minute - you're not. And there're always two versions. Yours, and theirs. Both versions start the same way though; both start with two people falling in love. You think yours is the one that's gonna make it. So it always comes as a shock. The moment you realise it's over. One minute you're standing on solid ground, the next minute, you're not."

- Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy 08x01

In the dead of dawn in New York City, he lies awake, unmoving with his wandering mind on a whirlwind and the sounds of the world echoing around him.

He could stare at the ceiling for hours and hours on end and just ... think.

Stare and think. Stare and think. Stare and think, think, think ...

On most nights, the ceiling would be his blank canvas, tonight, though, it's his sleeping wife.

He could just stare at her for hours and hours on end too, counting the many moles she has engraved forever on her back.

Her clear complexity shines bright in the dark; she's all the light he ever needs. But now ... now, he doesn't know where to start counting or ... even, why.

Addison.

He once, many many years ago, had actually spent the entire night - maybe even two or three or more since he probably had accidentally fallen asleep on the first few - documenting her every mole. From its size to its colour to its prominence. He doesn't know what it was but it just made him feel more secure, closer to her with the familiarity of every inch and every second of her flawless dermis.

Addison.

While she found it slightly obscure of the fact that someone had been observing, staring and documenting her as she slept, he just couldn't help himself. He's a romantic in the most arcane of ways. Besides he's not just someone - stranger or stalker - he's her husband.

He had counted them all, even had memorised them all. Numbers and placements. But now, he just can't seem to recall any of the tedious details.

Addison.

Tonight was the first night in days - maybe it's been a week or two, he can't really remember that he had actually slept on his own bed, on a comfortable memory foam, on crisp and freshly pressed linens, on a bed that he shared with his wife. But somehow, tonight wasn't the same as he had remembered.

It feels unfamiliar. New. But not the good kind of new, not the first night as newlyweds kind of new. It's as if the bed is on fire and he knows he should jump out and run, run and never look back, but he also knows he can't.

Was it him or was it her?

Something has definitely changed. In both of them. He's not pointing fingers. But after years and years of familiarity, his home and his wife, who were once a constant, now seemed too foreign.

Addison.

He feels even more dreadful and uncomfortable here, on their very very costly Zenhaven natural latex memory foam mattress ("a $3,999 mattress is actually quite reasonable, Derek."), than he would at the hospital's flimsy one. He's even feeling fatigued in his own home than he would at work. If Addison wouldn't overreact (like she always does with everything he says.), the hospital would be the best fit for him to call home.

Sadly, he have had blatantly expressed his discontent one too many times to her and he knew that had to really hurt.

Addison.

She took every harsh word and nonsense from him like a champ, not allowing his mere eloquence crush her. She've mastered the art of control. Sometimes he wishes he doesn't know her so well, so well like he knows the back of his hand, since he knows whenever she has that look on her face, the look that held no emotions and the only thing she does is blink, he knows she's wounded.

She's hurt.

He's hurt her.

But of course, one can only take so much, and she too would lash back at him every now and then which almost always ends up in one of them leaving. After all, just like him, she's not made of steel.

Addison.

The longest they haven't spoken to each other was a little over three weeks. Not an utterance at home and definitely not at work. And if it was of dire of them to communicate at the hospital, they always know to be civil. But always, at the end of most of their feuds, it is her who ends up apologising.

Always.

He's stubborn and he knows that.

Sorry is the hardest word.

She's trying, trying to keep them afloat while he has pretty much given up on their marriage a long time ago.

She's really trying.

He's not trying hard enough.

Addison.

His wife, the beautiful redhead he met over a decade ago in medical school when they were both still considered to be the babies of PS. It was their first year. He had just turned twenty-one while she was on her way to be becoming legal.

Their love story; it was simple and sweet.

It all started in their campus library where on a blizzard January afternoon, her bright red head of hair and creamy complexion beamed in perfection and for the first time since starting at Columbia University, he noticed her.

As he watched the gusty winds blew icy particles in all directions, blanketing what was the Hudson River and peeking a glance at her, who had caught his eyes, an announcement was made to inform all the studious inhibitors of their ill-fate, that they were to be stranded until further notice. It was for their safety since all roads in, out and throughout the city were deemed unsafe.

It had all seemed so irrational. Perfect even. The question of what the universe had planned for him was answered at that second. Being stranded in a library together with her couldn't have been more of an obvious sign that maybe, just maybe, he ought to talk to her.

His fate, he convinced himself.

So, he did.

He gathered his things and most importantly, his newfound courage and confidence and marched right up to the table where she had her eyes practically glued to her Molecular and Cellular Physiology textbook and MCAT past papers.

"Oh, that's easy." he stated, after reading one of the questions off her paper, "The limbic system includes the limbic lobe as well as the associated subcortical nuclei, located on both sides of the thalamus, immediately beneath the cerebrum. It is associated with emotional responses, which is largely housed in the limbic system, and it has a great deal to do with the formation of memories. The integration of olfactory information with visceral and somatic information as well."

She looked up from the many pages and for the first time, their eyes spoke in a linger.

There was a spark, a forth of a second long, and he knew she saw it too.

He told her about it later, she said she saw it too.

He can tell by the way she pursed her lips that she's impressed by his level of confidence and nonchalant way of getting to sit with her.

"Is this seat taken?"

She gave him a bright smile.

"It now is."

He extended his right hand to her, flashing a gleaming grin, "Derek. My name's Derek Shepherd."

Her dreamy blues drowned in his and her lips curled into a smile and she willing shook his hand, tucking a lock of red behind her ears.

"Addison Montgomery."

Then - he knew he was going to marry her.

Now - he's not so sure of that decision.

He's forgotten why he married her eleven years ago.

It's unfair. To both of them. Mostly her. But him too.

He's so immensely sad that he feels this way.

He doesn't remember why he loves her.

But he loves her.

He knows he still loves her.

If he was asked on that cold afternoon who'd he want to spend the rest of his life with, he'd say her name in a heartbeat.

Addison.

If he was asked on that cold afternoon who's the one person that brings him joy and happiness, he'd say her name without a second to spare.

Addison.

If he was asked on that cold afternoon where he thinks his marriage will be in eleven years, he'd say on a path to happily ever after, along with their army of children.

But those questions were never asked and those answers were never heard and he can now honestly say that he would have chosen her all the way.

Would have.

But it's been eleven years of matrimony and now, they're both on polar opposites.

Literally.

She's hot, he's cold.

They, Addison-and-Derek, once had similar, if not the same goals - to be the best of the best, to be number one, to be the doctors hospitals run to. It was that that fuelled their passion, but now, she has changed.

Or maybe it is he who has.

He raises his arm to reach out for her, her bare back that is facing him, but he can't. Unreachable. He can't reach her.

Perhaps, he doesn't want to. Or he's not trying hard enough. Or he doesn't even care to try. Or they're just too far apart, much like their marriage.

She wants something he cannot share with her anymore and that is time. Time is money, after all. He's a man on a dire mission, he needs to focus on his career. It's imperative of him to become Chief in the near future, five years from now, maybe even top as the youngest in the business, because this ambition and dream of his (they do come true.) doesn't last forever. His career doesn't and wouldn't wait for him while his wife, on the other hand, does and would.

But why couldn't she just understand that?

Time is of the essence.

The only way for him to accomplish what he was meant to accomplish on this planet was for him to be at the hospital, to be away from her, to not give her the time she so desperately craves.

They're in constant disagreement to literally anything and everything. They bicker and argue about the most nonsense and mundane of things. That's what they're really known for by all their colleagues and friends. Everyone knows. It was obvious. One don't need sight to know where they were headed. Everyone knows where they were marching to, but they don't. They don't know anything because they're in denial

Just yesterday morning, after flying back from Chicago where he was asked to perform an endoscopic endonasal surgery in removal of a craniopharyngiomas on a young child, as she was leaving for work and as he sees her to the door, she wasn't too pleased with the way he had dumped his bags by the door and being the sleep deprived doctor that he was, he exploded. That in turn, began their long silence until tonight that is, as she nonchalantly suggested that they have sex.

The air choked with tension. Impending silence. But both of their brilliant minds were raising as they sat in bed, right next to each other with a distance that stretched further than the Great Wall, and supposedly reading whatever they had just snatched off the bookshelf.

If it wasn't for the fact that they weren't speaking to one another, she would've asked him to stop inhaling so much since he literally seemed to be hogging all the oxygen in the room. Leaving her to choke on whatever deathly was in the air.

She took a sip from her mug of camomile and went back to reading the book in hand, catching the sight of her husband in her peripheral view.

He has been on that exact same page since he crawled into the covers next to her. Not even a flip of the page was made on his part. He simply stared into the book, his loud breaths were really the only sounds in all the silence. She knows he's not reading but instead, thinking. And can only hope it's nothing too drastic.

"Let's have sex." she said quickly, all in one breath.

She doesn't even know where such thought came from. She wasn't even thinking about sex.

He chuckled lightly and furrowed his brows. He wasn't too sure whether he had heard her right. "Excuse me?"

"Let's have sex." she said again, slower this time. Placing her book and black-rimmed glasses onto the nightstand, still a large distance between them.

"Addison..." he ran a hand tiredly through his sleek dark curls, "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm tired. You're tired. You've had a long day at the hospital..." his voice trailed off, leaving that as his counter argument, that they're tired.

Tired!

They're not even in their forties yet.

She's not tired.

So, she quickly scooted over to him before he could even react, straddling him. Locking herself on top of him with her iron grip thighs. Kissing the angle between his neck and shoulder blades softly because she knows how much he likes - no, loves - that. Roaming her fingertips over his chest, she smiled to herself when she felt his hands grabbing her thin waist.

"Addison, what are you doing?"

He was smiling up at her and she knows, undeniably, that he wants her just as much as she needs him, if the response from his body was any indication.

"Please, Derek..." she staggered, "We haven't had sex in months, ok."

Maybe it was the desperation in her voice that had changed his mind because now his hands are sliding under her satin chemise, caressing the warm skin of her inner thighs and they both looked into each other's eyes, remembering how it used to be, how they used to be together, as one.

Familiarising their passion. Or trying to, at least.

He reached out to tuck the few strands that had fallen onto her face behind her ear and his fingers lingered at the curve of her neck as she pulled him in for a deeper kiss and he lifted her white nightie over her head, tossing it to the side.

What have they done?

They're relationship has gone from bad to worse since then. Beyond the point of no return. He doesn't want it to be the darn truth but it was.

Sex couldn't even save them from their drowning legal union anymore, like it used to. Sex was once their saviour. Sex was the only way they could reconcile, pretend and forget. Hot sex after a particularly bellicose day was their thing. Now, not so much.

He tried to enjoy the moment with his wife as much as he willed himself to. To make it last. He really did. He swore he had even dozed off for a second or two, mentally slapping himself when he had because he knows Addison would be further from livid. What's worse is that she would never forget and would never fail to remind him of it.

Somehow halfway through intimacy, he found himself wondering when will this end. And whether she liked to admit it or not, he knows she feel the same.

There was no excitement.

Boring.

As he watched her sleeping, counting the rise and fall of her breaths, he so desperately wants to go back to where the point of their impending doom, failing marriage, began.

Was it when he missed their anniversary for the first time six years ago? And almost all anniversaries after that?

Or maybe it was his absence in many and most Christmases, birthdays and Thanksgivings?

Was it when he kind of, sort of implied that it was her fault why, after almost a decade of trying to have kids, they still weren't pregnant?

He really doesn't know when it all started but he'd really like to turn back time and find a way to take back all those hurtful words he used to say.

It's his fault, he's the reason why they're failing.

In realisation that maybe, just maybe that...

Suddenly, this house that he shared with his wife was closing in on him, seizing all his air supply. He doesn't want to be here anymore.

No! He really doesn't!

He has to go somewhere, anywhere really. Maybe the hospital since that's the one a place where he can be himself.

It was a place of tranquility.

Happiness...he just wants to be happy again since now, he definitely isn't.

Why?

He doesn't know why.

He needs to void his mind of false thoughts and the hospital is his cave, his escape. Right now, he has basically exhaust himself with thoughts of his wife. He has done enough thinking about Addison in one night than he ever had in the last couple of years.

He always used to notice her, how can he not?

Although he would've gone to the hospital earlier in the evening, he wanted to show and prove to her that he's not absent like she claims he has been.

She's not happy.

He really don't think he's been that absent.

He comes home when he can.

He tells her he loves her.

He kisses her on the cheek every morning and every night and even sometimes at work whenever they cross paths.

What else does she need?

He've noticed her enough.

She's unhappy.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ran his hands roughly over his face, exhaling with a loud puff in contemplation of his next move.

Should he stay and risk the awkward encounter that the morning holds to fill in the void and regret of last night?

Or should he just leave and meet her when he meets her at the hospital?

He knows he's decision.

With that he dragged his feet across the room, picking up the various articles of clothing that Addison, not too long ago, had tossed in the air.

"Derek?" her eyes fluttered open when she heard the squeak of the closet door, raising her hands to rub them.

Sleepiness still coating her voice.

Glancing out of the window for a brief moment, confused as to why he's up and that maybe the sun had already risen.

"Where are you going?" she asked, holding the comforter against her chest as she sat up and ran a hand through her tousled hair.

It was still very much dark outside.

"I didn't hear the phone or the pager go off."

She's a light sleeper, much lighter than he is. And would've instantly jump out of bed at the sound of a beep.

His soul almost crawled out of his skin at the faint echoes of her voice; startling him, feeling like he had just been caught in a lie. Turning around while buttoning his shirt, he's met with his wife's bright eyes. Eyes that once had him begging on his knees. Eyes that lured him to her. Eyes that, even in dim light, gathered a combination of surprise, confusion and maybe even a tiny linger of fear. He wondered the thoughts that were running through her mind; Is he leaving?

"I'm heading to the hospital. I gotta get an early start, Addison." he said, grabbing his grey coat off the hanger.

Early start?

He had already been away for almost a week and now, he couldn't even be bothered to stay with her for just one night.

One night!

She has never asked anything from him but to be a good husband.

What's worse is that he doesn't even look sorry or remorseful, he certainly doesn't care that he's leaving his wife for something else. He doesn't care about anything else but the hospital. Not about her or their marriage. She's a doctor too, she knows the feeling but she doesn't make that her life, the only thing she breathes and lives for. Unlike he does.

The feeling of helplessness overtook her with rage and all she really wants is to scream at him. But she knows not to since that will only further fuel his conviction.

"Derek..." she began sweetly. After eleven years of marriage, she's somewhat the queen of manipulation. "Just come back to bed, ok? You haven't been home in weeks and...I miss you, Der." her lips curled into a smile and she knows she might look as though she's having a seizure with the copious amount of times she's been batting her eyes.

Her voice was soft and undemanding but he can hear the sheer desperation within.

"I got a lot of paperwork to tend to and patient files to review before surgery, Addison." he didn't even care to look her way, his tone sounding very much annoyed.

"Derek." she tried again.

He's now pacing across their beige coloured room, his hands thrust deep into his hair; scratching and mumbling incoherently.

"Addison, have you seen my briefcase?"

She didn't answer him, didn't even make a sound. Instead, crossed her arms over her chest, looking squarely at him.

Does he really think she's going to look for his briefcase for him?

Crouching down, he yanked on all the drawers of the chest, slamming one after the other when his case still wasn't in sight. "Addison...did you even hear me? Have you seen my briefcase?" he raised his voice.

Anxious.

"Addison!"

She slammed her palms on the mattress, adamant to make her point, "Don't yell at me, Derek!"

They're past the point of no return.

She heard him sigh and can tell that he's forcibly collecting himself. "You know what?...Just forget it!"

Just forget it?

Forgetting it was what they've always been doing and that hasn't even gotten them to forget. Forgetting it hasn't been getting them anywhere, instead drifting in a sea of nothingness.

"I'm not doing this with you right now!" he pulled himself to his feet.

His tone was cold and expressionless.

"And what exactly may that be, Derek? What are WE doing? Please! Enlighten me!"

This really is their final threshold.

He doesn't know.

They're past the point of no return, where would they even go back to, if they weren't?

Shaking his head, "Now is not the time, Addison." he turned away, marching for the knob.

When is?

His heart was beating wildly and he stopped just as he twisted the doorknob. By the way his chest was rising and falling, he too isn't content with whatever they were doing at the moment.

Beyond the point of no return.

She's breathing hard, and her hands quivered slightly when she flung her hair out of her face, "When is it the right time, Derek? Never mind! I don't need you to answer that! You know what - Great! Go! Just! Go! Leave like you always do, Derek!...I know it's so hard for you to be here with me! Trust me, I get!" she didn't even bother to hide the sarcasm, "...for just one night, Derek...that's all I'm asking of you..." she shook her head and turn over on her pillow, burying her head in it.

They're past all thoughts of right or wrong but she has one question; how long should they, two, wait, before they're one again?

"Addison..." he studied her curled poise draped under the covers, listening to her breathy pained cries. Contemplating whether he should comply and just stay, he exhaled deeply, "I'll see you at the hospital."

He just has to go.

She let out the deep sob she was holding back, breaking the skin on her knuckles with her teeth as she bit into them when the thought of him staying burst into flames.

They're beyond the point of no return and turning back to a time when they were content with one another wouldn't do them any justice. The real lingering angst will always and still be there; present and unfixed. It wouldn't be back to the way it used to be. They wouldn't be able to repair who they've both become. All of their games of make-believe is coming to an end and the bridge, that is their marriage, has been crossed through unsteady waters, now all they can really do is stand and watch it burn.

They've passed the point of no return.

Hey guys! This is my first ever Grey's Anatomy fanfiction! I love Addison! God! I just freaking heart her! I know I'm super late to the party but you know what they say…it's never too late to….

Thanks so much for reading! And let me know what you think or what I shall improve. I'd love for you to review!