Just something I had written out of bordem. Christmas chapters of One Headlight should be up at the end of this week. The past episode of Grey's got me thinking. hm...

I knew that the man I was kissing was not my husband. I knew that the man who was muttering my name, was not the man I loved.

But the man I love was so far from me, it didn't matter for those moments.

What mattered was that somebody felt something for me.

Desperation makes one do desperate things.

Somewhere. Somehow. My husband stopped looking at me.

My husband stopped kissing me.

My husband stopped talking to me.

As a doctor, you see things. You see things that change your life.

You do things that changes lives.

My husband is a neurosurgeon. One of the best in New York. One of the best on the East Coast, to be exact. Being the best often makes you sought after. As best in my own field, I know the demands being number one makes on a person.

We lost each other.

We never slept at the same time.

We never ate at the same time.

Our schedules were so out of sync.

We passed each other in the halls.

We passed each other in the bathroom.

The passion for each other had been transferred to our jobs.

We were so in love once.

There were times when we would slip off into the on call room every spare second.

There were times where he would sit in the nursery with me.

There were times when I would sit up all night with him while he watched over a patient.

We were hopelessly in love.

Then the big leagues came. And so did the countless messages on our answering machine...

"Sorry, sweetheart. I have a consultation in Maine. I won't be home for our anniversary."

"Derek, I may have to be in surgery tonight. I'm sorry. Happy Birthday."

"Addi, I can't make it."

"Der- I have to fly to Toronto."

"I am just going to crash in the on call room."

"Honey, where are you? We're waiting for you."

"Addison, Derek, its mom. Derek, its your brother... He.. He.. Can you come home?"

" Addison, it's Jackson.. Erica is pregnant. There are some complications. Can you fly out?"

"Addison, where are you?"

"Derek, I am waiting for you."

"Addison .(sigh). Bye."

"Forget it."

(click)

It went on.

Suddenly the messages to each other stopped. The pages. The notes on the bathroom mirror. There was no more "I love you." No more brief moments before or after work.

We went from newlyweds to barely there.

He stopped coming home.

He would often crash in the on call room or at Mark's. When he would be home, I would be on my way out. It was ridiculous. We once crossed paths in the airport, surprised to see one another.

We still shared Christmas, though, but the holidays weren't enough. We would spend 5 glorious days together. Two days before finishing up any shopping and the two days after just relaxing. Those blissful days came crashing down last year.

It was the breaking point in my mind. I was sitting in his office waiting. I had checked my watch every few minutes. He was supposed to have gotten off at 9pm. The usual plan had been modified for his work schedule. Instead of our normal five days, we would only have three.

I sat in his office for over an hour. Eventually, I found myself curled up on his couch. Alone, on Christmas Eve.

The next morning, I awoke to find myself still in his office. That was it. I picked up my own belongings and rushed home. Derek was asleep on our couch. I sighed and slammed my bag on to the coffee table.

"I waited for you. I fell asleep on your couch! You were supposed to meet me in your office. I waited. I waited and you never showed up."

Derek rolled off the coach and on to the floor.

"Didn't you get my message? I paged you to tell you I got off at 7. I came right home. I guess I dozed off on the couch," he explained.

I growled in frustration and locked myself in our bedroom.

We spent Christmas in complete silence.

How did we get so far apart?

We tried to spend time together. We really did, but once again life picked up for us. I spent 3 months in Boston monitoring 2 multiple pregnancies.

Derek was between New York and Washington with Webber.

Months passed. My job was beginning to take its toll on me. I had lost 3 patients in a span of 4 months. I was miserable. I needed my husband. I needed Derek to hold me. To love me.

Life came crashing down one July night.

I had no idea where Derek was. I called the house. He wasn't home. I paged him. He didn't respond. I searched the hospital. He wasn't anywhere.

I threw my cell phone at the wall. I slid down further into my bed.

The phone on the nightstand began to ring.

"Shepherd."

"Addison? It's Mark. What's wrong?"

"Is Derek there?" I sniffled.

"No. I haven't seen him since the staff meeting."

"Damn it, Mark. What's wrong with him? What's wrong with me?"

I found myself bawling my eyes out over the phone.

"Addi. I'm coming over. I'll be over in 15 minutes."

I don't remember much after that. I remember Mark coming in and holding me as I cried. I could hear myself rambling on and on. Everything I had felt over the past 3 years was spilling out. I wanted Mark to so badly be Derek.

There is so much about that night I can't remember. I don't know how it happened, but Mark's lips were on mine. It was nice to have someone want me.

"Mark," I mumbled against his lips in protest.

A groan escaped my throat. All thought went out the window. My need to feel something took over.

I woke up to find Derek staring at me. The look on his face was indescribable. I looked down at the arm across my stomach.

"No. No, Derek. This isn't what it looks like!"

He shook his head and shut the door.

I shoved Mark away and pulled my sweatshirt and pajama pants on.

"Derek! Derek!" I shouted racing down the stairs and out on to our stoop. He turned around and gave me a look of disgust.

"Derek!" I shrieked. He ignored me, like he always did and got into a cab. That was the last time I had seen my husband.

"Desperate people do desperate things to attract attention."