A/N: A two-part story inspired by a prompt! That's all I'm telling you, enjoy!
February arrived much faster than anybody had expected, just as the first snowfall of the year, and reality within setting in all too quickly. Nobody dared to speak, fearful of eliciting an evocation that reminded her of something so fleeting.
Supportive words and constant reassurances seemed foreign, and close friends and family stepped around egg shells, avoiding the agony and pain that occurred on this day.
But, silence is all she needed to cope with the loss, and sometimes, that was enough.
However, as the anniversaries that commemorates the significance of this day keep approaching each year, sometimes, she wishes she can unveil her sorrows to the person she loves most.
But she can't do it.
She's afraid that he'll look at her differently – somehow. Because as she allows the importance of this day to consume her, and continues to suffer in silence each year, she wants to allow her husband to cradle her in his arms and reassure her that what she had decided was the right decision at the time.
But she can't tell him, because the fear that emanates from her childhood of being judged holds the possibility of being transferred over to her husband. She doesn't want the questioning looks or the gazes of disappointment from him.
That's why she accepts the silence, even if it destroys her inside.
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A fluorescent white illuminates the expanse of the horizon, occurring simultaneously with the recurring rumbling echoes in the distance, and a heavy downpour following shortly after.
She only stirs lightly, where a deep slumber is wavering close within her grasp that it's still possible to achieve a couple more hours of sleep. She isn't bothered by the tumultuous uproars of the developing storm occurring outside, so she habitually ignores it as she sinks deeper into the comforts of her mattress – inching closer to her husband to acquire the warmth radiating off his body.
It's now approaching dawn, the exhaustion is still discernible from the aches engulfing her body, and the significance of today's date and the manic storm hasn't dawned on her just yet. But when another streak of bright, fluorescent light enlightens the overcast skies, the importance of today has settled in, jolting her from her slumber.
He notices the cold engulfing to where his arms were previously draped over, processing that his arm is no longer encompassing his wife's protruding stomach. His eyes open abruptly, finding his wife sitting up and cradling her stomach. He instantaneously turns towards the nightstand, hurriedly turning on the lampshade and sitting up to join his wife, concern washing over him.
"Addison," he breathes, trepidation perceptible in his voice. "Are you okay? The baby?"
She only beams softly, reassuring him there's nothing wrong – at least nothing wrong with her medically. He returns the gesture with a grin, sighing with relief and letting his fingers trail along the expanse of her swollen belly. "Is she being active again?"
Addison simply shakes her head in response and she's lying. Their daughter is being active, thought it wasn't the reason why she was awoken. It's today's date, and the latent meaning behind it – the day in Addison's life that Derek is very unaware of, and she's still hesitant on opening up and revealing why today is so hard on her.
Derek's smile falters. He's about to ask her what's wrong – to wonder why she's up so early – but instead, Addison's legs dangle from their bed, getting up and heading towards their bedroom door.
He doesn't pursue after her immediately – waiting – to create a safe distance, providing her a sense of privacy before uncovering why she's acting so strange.
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He gives her an hour, a full hour of privacy before joining her downstairs.
He should be getting ready for work, but his mind tends to wander elsewhere whenever Addison experiences a shift in her emotions or is feeling under the weather. His hair remains tousled from his slumber, clad in his indigo plaid pajama bottoms and a dark grey t-shirt. Descending down the stairs, he finds Addison in fetal-position on their couch, an expressionless face.
"Addison..."
He doesn't hesitate to invite himself and join her on the couch, pressing a light kiss on her temple before proceeding. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
She sniffles, turning her gaze towards Derek. It registers to him that she's been crying, and he's unsure of what's caused the flow of tears and why she's acting so odd. "I'm fine," she replies, almost inaudibly. "I'll manage."
"You can tell me anything, Addie." Derek reassured. "What's on your mind?"
She doesn't respond.
Derek sighs almost defeatedly, running his hand through his curled locks out of frustration. He wants her to open up, reveal all the emotions she's concealing – good and bad. He's known her for seventeen years in total, slowly learning that whenever she voiced that she was fine, she wasn't. And over time, whenever she decides to keep it all to herself, it was never good for her emotionally.
"Do you remember what we had promised each other before when we were trying to salvage our marriage for the third time?"
Addison gives him a questioning look. It's been two years since the both of them had decided to give their marriage—not a second change—a third chance after the incident with Meredith at the prom, and what had happened after the infamous Seattle Grace prom was now buried deep in the past. "Why are you bringing that up?"
"Because when we decided to try again, we both promised each other to be honest and open with each other – the good and the bad," Derek explained, softly. "So, Addie, please let me in. I hate seeing you like this."
She's preparing to leave the couch, but Derek takes her hands in his, genuinely gazing into her eyes to show that he's concerned. Her shoulder slumps, her gaze being directed to the ground. "No, Derek, you won't look at me the same," Addison admits. "You won't understand."
"Disregard what I did in the past," Derek admitted. "Whatever it is that's bothering you, I would never look at you differently. I wouldn't love you any less."
She glances at him, apprehension conspicuously illustrated on her face. He smiles reassuringly, caressing her hands with his thumb. "Believe me, I would never look at you any differently."
Addison musters a smile to the best of her ability to reassure Derek, but he knows it's an unconvincing move, growing so acquired to her coping mechanisms when she's hurting. She still possesses the same trepidation as she did earlier, but it's a step forward in getting her to confess on what's bothering her.
"We're both going to be late for work," Addison mentioned. "I'll tell you everything that you need to know tonight, okay?"
"Okay," Derek replied, beaming softly. "That sounds good to me."
And habitually, he leans in and softly pecks her cheeks.
"And Derek?" Addison said, he looks at her. "I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, but it's just hard on me."
His face falls, his mind wandering on how long Addison has been suffering in silence. But, he doesn't feel hurt, there was no need to be.
She's afraid that if she told him, he would look at her differently. Maybe New York Derek would, but after all the mess they have been through these past two years, he's much more empathetic and less indifferent.
"Don't worry, Addie," he reassures again. "I understand."
Except he doesn't understand.
He doesn't understand because he has no idea what Addison had been through for her to conceal it from him this long.
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"Hey, Dr. Shepherd," Alex Karev calls. "Do you mind setting this in Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd's office? I would do it myself but Arizona wants me rounding on the patients in a few minutes."
Derek hurriedly scribbles his signature on the dotted line, shutting the chart and turning to the nurses. He looks up, finding Alex Karev holding a small package, addressed to Addison.
"What is that?"
"It's a package," Alex replies, rather impatiently. "Now will you take this and set this in Addison's office before Arizona finds a brick and hits me with it?"
"Oh yeah, of course."
Alex hands over the package to Derek, and before he begins walking over to her office, he examines the address on the box once again, not recalling anyone familiar in Portland, Oregon.
Alex hands over the package to Derek, and before he begins walking towards the direction of her office, he examined the address on the package:
Grace M. Rutherford
0109 NW Thurman St
Portland, OR 97210
His face contorts into confusion, not recalling anyone familiar in Portland, let alone a person named Grace.
But, he remembers, seeing a package each year. They're Addison's numerous, mysterious packages she receives annually. He's grown curious to what these packages contain, but he's never bothered Addison about it, reminding himself it's up to her own desire to tell him about it. Though, this is the first time he's examined the address on the side, mainly because Addison has them whisked away before he sees it a second time.
They used to appear at their front door, but suddenly, they stopped coming. But by examining the receiving address, it's evident that Addison has informed her to send the packages directly to her office rather than to their home.
"Where did you get that?"
He's so consumed in the written addresses, and remembering how these packages used to be delivered to their home that he doesn't notice her approach him. He turns around slowly, though, when he's facing her, he doesn't respond to her.
She's stern, but simultaneously, she's shattered. What significance do these packages hold to her that caused her to hide them from him? She asks again, and her gaze is what makes the room cold.
"Where did you get that?"
Again, he doesn't answer.
"Derek, I swear to God," Addison seethes. "You couldn't wait until tonight? You had the audacity to go through my office?"
He looks at her confusingly, which causes Addison's face to fall. "I didn't go through your office..."
She looks away, humiliated. "Addison, who's Grace?"
This time, Addison is the one who doesn't answer. Her gaze is still fixated on the linoleum floor, not wanting to meet Derek's questioning gaze.
"I've seen these packages before, when they were sent to our house. I never asked you about them because it was your business and not mine. But they stopped coming one day, and I always wondered what were in these." Derek explained, gesturing to the package.
Again, she's remains quiet, not meeting his eyes.
"Addie," he says, softly. "Who's Grace? She seems important to you."
Addison hesitates, contemplating whether or not she should reveal who Grace is to Derek on the surgical floor where several nurses are discretely eavesdropping on their conversation. But, she can't hide the truth anymore when Derek has discovered her mysterious packages.
She looks up, cerulean meeting azure. Derek looks at her encouragingly, reassuring her again that she can tell him anything – good and bad.
"Grace," Addison whispers, barely audible. "Grace is my daughter."
A/N: Did you see that coming? Also, my writing is going downhill, and I just realized the stories (which are incomplete) that I post on here all have kids that Derek and Addison deserved so much. Anyways, shoot me a review and tell me if you were shook at all :)