A/N: In my defense . . . this is Kary's fault. Her "Addek thought of the day" sent me into a typing tailspin, and here we are. It was going to be a one-shot, and then I realized it would be fun this way too. If you can't already guess the format, you'll know by the end, but it's set up to allow for lots of (short, for me) chapters, which will help me update faster and on the go whenever needed. It's perfect, since I've been wanting a silver anniversary story but I love flashbacks, and this allows for both. And thank you to Thomas/Bays for the concept and title inspiration from your show (and to Shonda, as always, for creating our favorite characters).
SO.
. . . it's the year of Addek's silver anniversary, aka the present day. Full prompt revealed at the end of the chapter.
Here we go:
Episode 1: The Box in the Attic
..
"It has to be up here somewhere." Addison reaches for another box, standing on tiptoe to try to read the label in the rather dim attic light. "I told you we needed a system."
"You did," he admits, "but your system was overcomplicated."
"At least it was a system!"
He makes a face at her, and she makes one back.
"Guys."
They look down at their daughter's voice, and then over to the box she's indicating.
"What about this one?" Carson asks. Max, their very large and very shaggy rescue dog, barks supportively at her side.
"I'm not sure." Derek reaches to help their daughter manage the box; she's tall for her age, but not that tall. The pediatrician predicted she'd top out Addison by the time she's finished growing, though – he's not actually sure which of the three of them is going to take that the hardest.
"I think we have to take some others down to get to it," he determines, trying not to sound grumpy, when he realizes he's not sure what's going to happen first: toppling the stash, or throwing his shoulder out. "Do you really need to find that exact dress, honey?"
"I really do." Carson props one hand on her hip. "The blue and green one that kind of looks like a basket."
Addison clears her throat.
"In a good way," her daughter says quickly. "And the denim blazer thing too, if you can find it. The one you're wearing in the picture – "
" – on the fireplace," Derek finishes, both because he's heard the request before and because he remembers the picture well, and fondly. Not for the blue and green basket or the denim blazer, more for their big smiles and undeniable youth.
The fabulous hair doesn't hurt, either. The point is: it's a good picture, and it's had a place of honor in every home since –
"Derek, I think she's right," Addison says, pointing. It's not the first time the two of them have tag-teamed him into taking down a box that contained absolutely zero blue and green basket dresses.
There was the box of old tackle that interested Max far too much.
And the one with the medical school textbooks that's responsible for at least a third of his current shoulder pain.
And then the one with photographs in it, so that all three of them had to stop and exclaim over it before they could start looking again for the elusive box of Addison's old dresses.
"Don't forget the red belt," Addison reminds their daughter. "There was a red belt too."
"Whose side are you on?" Derek asks.
"We're all on the same side." Addison tucks her hair behind her ears. "And anyway, honey, I didn't even mention the earrings."
Carson brightens at the word earrings. "Do you still have them, Mom?"
"Thank you, for that." Derek is smiling though, as he gauges the distance to the latest box option.
Helpfully, Carson pushes over the stepladder. Derek makes his way up, shuffles a few boxes around in a sort of death-wish tetris, and makes it down with a sealed cardboard movers' box, Carson grabbing Max's mostly-for-show collar and hauling him out of the way just in time. The large dog consents, mainly because he's coincidentally heard a chirping bird out of one of the dormer windows and decided to go offer a rather slobbering but welcoming hello.
"Look, it says 20 – something." Carson kneels in front of the box once her father has set it on the ground. She peers at the writing. "It's kind of smudged. But it looks – old, right?"
Addison and Derek exchange an amused glance.
"We can give it a shot," Addison says. "I'm just not sure there's clothing in it, Cars. Which is why I told Dad we needed a system for the boxes," she adds.
"I'm sitting right here," Derek reminds her.
"We'll find the dress." Carson remains an optimist about most things even as she hurtles terrifyingly toward adolescence . . . a chip off the paternal block, in that one way at least. "We have to," she adds, twisting the initial ring on her pinky finger, "because the dance is tomorrow."
. . . and she's a bit of a worrier too, rather like her non-maternal block.
"We'll find something before then," Addison assures her. "I have other dresses you can wear, sweetie."
"Not as good as that one," Carson sighs. "It's the perfect costume – I mean, the perfect dress," she corrects herself quickly at her mother's frown.
"What kind of a theme is Turn of the Millennium, anyway?" Derek asks. "Why can't your school have nice, normal dances, like . . . Under the Stars, something like that?"
Carson ignores him, busy with the boxcutter now; Addison leans in so only Derek can hear her. "Speaking as someone who's pretty offended by the theme they did pick . . . do you really want our daughter spending the evening Under the Stars?"
"No," he whispers back, "but it would be easier to find a dress."
"It's a good theme," Carson says. She pauses, maybe remembering the story she told her parents about how vigorously she voted against it. " . . . it's for a good cause, anyway."
"Is the cause physical therapy?" Derek rubs at a sore spot in his shoulder . "Because I'm going to need it after today."
Addison reaches out to massage the spot, which isn't such a bad result.
"It's sealed up," Carson observes, picking experimentally at a corner of the packing tape. "It looks like you never even opened it."
"We probably didn't."
"It looks really old," Carson continues, apparently oblivious to her mother's reaction. "Max, down," she adds in the same expressionless voice one might use with a telemarketer. They learned long ago that their shaggy rescue dog – the one who's traveled from house to house with them just like the unopened box – intuits his own commands. For example, right now, he's decided to obey an unspoken order to snuffle his very wet nose into Addison's hand.
"She's right," Derek acknowledges, when he glances down at the box. "It's older than she is. It has to be, if you look at – "
He stops talking.
Addison reaches for his hand to give it a squeeze, not seeming to mind that it's the same one Max just snuffled into.
Carson, meanwhile, traces the name of the movers on top of the box.
"I know you were living in Seattle when I was – born," she starts, choosing the last word firmly, and both parents appreciate her avoidance of the term conceived. "But what about when – "
"That was later," Derek reminds her.
"Oh, yeah. I knew that." Carson ruffles the fur on top of Max's head; he returns the favor by jumping up to paw enthusiastically at the top of the box.
Addison glances at Derek, then back to their daughter.
"But then why did we move to – no, Max," she says in the same tone one might advise a young woman in a horror film don't go in that door. As in: she's invested in the outcome, but aware she has no control over it.
"Down," Derek says, ineffectually; Max wags his tail enthusiastically as he tips the whole thing over.
"Max," Addison sighs; it's not really a scolding – you'd need an obedient dog for that to work. More the way you sigh rain when droplets start to fall from the sky. You can't control it – so you either enjoy it, or cover your head.
"No dresses. But look at all this old stuff," Carson says with interest. "Maybe there's some accessories or something." She squats down in front of the box.
Lifting out a battered looking pair of strappy shoes with obvious tooth marks, Carson turns to her mother. "Did Max do that?" she asks, indicating the damage.
"No," Addison says after a moment. "It was – another dog."
"You had a dog before Max?"
"Just for a little while." Derek settles on the floor next to Carson, then extends a hand to Addison, who joins them.
Max accepts the unspoken invitation and flops down in the center, in front of the scattered contents of the box, and rests his head companionably in Carson's lap.
One by one, each Shepherd reaches for something from the box. There's the black satin headband Addison forgot about – she couldn't exactly get away with a headband after 2005, though a little part of her missed it.
"I liked that thing," Derek says wistfully and both of them catch Carson rolling her eyes, as she's wont to do at what she considers overly overt affection.
"Maybe I can wear it again. Don't make that face, Carson," she scolds with mock severity, "I watched you buy a scrunchie a month ago."
"What's wrong with that?" Carson looks automatically to her wrist.
"Scrunchies used to be what headbands are now," Addison explains.
Carson, who has been a thoughtful child from the moment she could put those thoughts into words, giving serious consideration to questions like which shade of pink sippy cup will you consent to drink from today, twists a lock of long hair around her finger. "I'm not sure it's comparable," she says after a few moments of silence interrupted only by Max's loud snuffles.
"You could wear it to the dance."
"You didn't," Carson reminds her. "In the picture, your hair was like – " and she pulls the top part of her long, dark hair away from her face, her mother nodding in agreement.
"A headband could work too, though," Addison says.
"If the hair debate is finished," Derek interjects mildly, holding up a manila envelope, "look what I found."
"Max's papers!" Carson reaches for them eagerly. "He was so cute." She pages through the records, including pictures of a younger and deceptively angelic-looking Max. There's a smile playing on her lips; Carson's always loved the story of how Max joined their family.
They trade memories while Max, who seems to sense he's being discussed and rather enjoy that fact, makes his way to his back for some well-deserved belly scratches.
"What's this one?" Carson reaches into the box for another official-looking manila envelope. "More of Max's things? Do you have the vet records from when he ate the . . . ."
Her voice trails off; another look at what she's holding and they realize why.
"Carson, wait – "
They both reach for her at the same time, but not quickly enough to prevent her from pulling the papers out of the envelope.
Carson's blue eyes widen; they're all that's visible over the top of the papers.
Very familiar papers.
Papers they haven't seen in a long time – but not the kind of papers you forget, either.
"You kept those?" Derek asks, turning to Addison.
"I kept them," she admits, wincing a little.
They both turn to their daughter, who is studying the contents of the envelope intently.
"These are divorce papers," she says after a moment, most of her face still obscured.
"Sweetie." Derek reaches for her hand. "Why don't you let us explain."
Slowly, Carson lowers the envelope and looks from one parent to the other. "You got divorced? You two got divorced?" The disbelief combined with her slightly wrinkled nose adds the unspoken part of the sentence: then why do I have to roll my eyes all the time when you get all mushy?
"No," Addison says quickly, glancing at Derek.
"Then why do you have these? Were you, like, separated?" She looks at her father. "You're married now, right?" she asks. "Because if not, that 25th anniversary thing last month was kind of weird."
Derek suppresses a smile. "We're married now, yes."
"Wait." Carson purses her lips; the expression always makes her look like her mother. "Is this one of those things where you were never really married? And that . . . silver vow renewal thing last month," she manages not to look as nauseated as she did when Derek and Addison confessed their plans, "was actually real?"
"The vow renewal was real, honey. But we were already married. We are married."
"Okay." Carson considers this. "So you didn't get remarried at the thing."
"We did," Derek admits, "in a way, but not because we were divorced."
"This doesn't make any sense." Carson has the same expression on her face Derek and Addison do when they try to make sense of the Snapchat messages to which their daughter grudgingly gives them supervisory access. It's not that having a twelve-and-a-half year old is stressful.
. . . well. She's fairly certain Derek's hair would be less grey without the various modes of social media they've had to figure out, but it's not like they'd change it for anything.
"Carson." Addison smiles encouragingly at their almost-teenager-oh-my-god and recalls the phrasing she picked up from one of the enormous stack of parenting books she used as security blankets – what Derek used to call the Addison Shepherd Public Library. "What would you like to know, sweetie?"
"I'd like to know if I'm illegitimate."
Derek coughs, then clears his throat.
"Okay, first of all, no child is illegitimate," Addison says firmly. "But your dad and I were married when you were born," she assures her daughter, "not that there's anything wrong with a woman having a baby without being married, or a woman having a baby on her own, or a man – "
"Mom, I get it. You're open-minded." Carson lifts the envelope. "I just want to know the deal with the divorce papers."
Derek and Addison exchange a glance.
"Just tell me." Carson raises her eyebrows. "Come on, it can't be as bad as the Santa thing."
Derek winces. "We're still sorry about that."
"Yeah, me too." Carson pushes a lock of dark hair out of her eyes; apparently the scrunchie on her wrist is just for show. "So make up for it now. Tell me about the divorce thing."
Addison looks at Derek.
Derek looks at Addison.
"Is she ready for it?"
"I think she's ready for it."
"Okay." Derek reaches for her hand. "But, Cars – the divorce thing is really just part of a longer story of . . . how I stayed married to your mother."
"Excuse me." Addison frowns. "It's really more the story of how I stayed married to you."
"Don't you both have to stay married if you're going to be married?" Carson asks.
"So wise," Derek says, smiling at their daughter. "So young, and yet so wise."
"She doesn't get it from you," Addison mutters.
"I'm not that young," Carson frowns.
And they're none of them getting any younger, which Derek thinks better of whispering to Addison.
"If the divorce – "
"We didn't get divorced."
"If the not divorce," Carson continues smoothly after her father's interruption, "is just part of a longer story, then fine. Tell me the whole thing. Tell me how you ended up getting remarried."
"The thing is," Addison says tentatively, "it's kind of a long story."
"Very long," Derek agrees.
"And it's not exactly linear."
"I'm sure she's heard you tell a story before," Derek says under his breath, not quite managing to avoid an elbow to the ribs.
Carson is still looking at them, not ready to let this go. Headstrong: that one she got from Addison. (Or Derek, depending on which parent you ask.)
"Just tell the story already," Carson says. "Please."
"All right." Derek glances at Addison, then back at their daughter. "You already know some of it, Cars," he starts. "You know about the cottage in Rhode Island, and the gecko."
Their daughter nods.
"But like I said before, it's a long story. If you really want to hear about how I remarried your mother, we can't just start there. Or even with the divorce papers," Derek says, nodding toward the unsigned divorce papers. "We have to go back pretty far."
"How far?" Carson asks.
Addison and Derek exchange a glance.
"Far," he says.
"Okay." Carson sits back, crossing her legs, Max moving to rest his head in her lap again. One hand resting in the dog's fur, she looks up at her parents. "I'm listening. Tell me the story."
To be continued, if you're interested in reading! If you liked it, thank Kary. If you liked it and you're mad that you have another story to read instead of being productive working/studying . . . blame Kary. I'm pretty excited about this, though, for a few reasons, so I hope you'll review and let me know what you think!
Story inspiration: "Derek actually tried with Addison, moved into a house whilst they left the land as is in case they wanted to do something with it in the future, and later on in their marriage they adopted a rescue dog Max and had a babygirl named Carson."
. . . see? How could I not? Review if you want to hear the next part of the story!