This, a glimpse into Addie and Derek's life in the months in New York after their marriage began to disintegrate but before any of the cheating, is a strange little one-shot. I have no clue if it's pro- or anti-Addek. The sympathy sort of shifts halfway through, and the whole thing is sort of ambiguous. But I guess we know where the action of it leads, since we've all seen what happens after all the cheating occurs.
It started out as a story for a Creative Writing class last spring—the assignment was to write a story that took place in an enclosed time and space. It was originally about a woman named Anna and an unnamed man who worked at a magazine, and back when I wrote it I hadn't even started watching Grey's yet. But I re-read it recently and it just screamed Derek and Addie. There was no denying that I had, if subconsciously, been writing about them in the first place, so I revised it a little bit to let its true colors shine, and here it is.
By the way, if anyone's curious about my soon-to-be multi-chapter Only Forward, I feel terrible that I've neglected it for so long, but I've had tons of work. But the semester is over now and I'm on break, and I'm definitely going to be turning my focus to that. And there's also a MerDer one-shot in the works.
Oh, and just in case you were wondering--I don't own any of this. None at all. Because clearly, if I did, what would I be doing writing fics?
And I've rambled much too long. So, without further ado, Descent.
The elevator was always stuffy, but there was a distinctly cold feeling about it tonight. As the doors thudded shut, she stepped back, wishing there was more space to put between her and him. The railing was cutting into the small of her back, but she didn't care. She pressed harder against it—she had to get farther away.
She turned toward the panel of buttons. "Lobby?" she said mechanically, absently.
"Yep." He stared at the floor, counting the gray flecks on the linoleum. "Please, let's not do this," he muttered in an oddly gentle voice.
"Do what?" She didn't bother turning around.
"Do this."
"Do what?" Her voice sounded exasperated now, but her body language reflected none of this frustration.
"This is what I'm talking about," he said with a sigh of recognition. "Don't shut me out because I made some ridiculous mistake. Do you think I meant to hurt you?"
"I'm not shutting you out. I'm just tired is all." Tired of you, she thought.
"Don't lie to me, Addie. Of course you're shutting me out. There's no way you've forgotten how mad you were earlier. I haven't forgotten, and I didn't even think what I said was that big a deal."
Something snapped inside of her. "Not that big a deal?" She turned to face him and met his gaze, her angry, hurt eyes searing his honest, apologetic ones. She knew he was sorry. He was always sorry. But that wasn't going to be good enough this time. "You said my decision was crazy and wrong right in front of my patient. I know we don't always see eye to eye on cases, but there's a place and a time for discussing that, and right in front of the patient doesn't happen to be it. I've been a doctor for just as long as you have, Derek, and I don't appreciate being called an amateur."
"Well, I didn't say it like that." That was all he had to offer in defense of what had never really seemed like a misstep to him.
"But that's what you meant, isn't it? You say things like that all the time. Not just at work. It seems like you have a problem with everything about me." There was a ping, and the doors opened on the sixth floor. She stepped forward, looking out to see if anyone was coming.
"I didn't mean that! I respect you, and you respect me, and I was offering some constructive criticism for the good of the patient. I thought we understood each other well enough that we wouldn't be insulted by each other's criticism."
Thud. She stared at the closed doors. "I hate that."
"What?"
"When people call the elevator and aren't there when it comes. Wastes our time." They stood in silence for a moment. "It wasn't constructive."
"What?"
"Your criticism. It wasn't constructive. It was harsh and insensitive, and you embarrassed me in front of my patient and all the interns."
He shuffled his feet nervously. "I didn't mean it. Really."
Ping. Third Floor. The doors opened, and a janitor entered with a rolling bucket of cleaning fluid. "Working late tonight, eh?" he said, more out of habit than congeniality.
"Yeah," they said in perfect unison. For a moment their eyes met, and he thought he saw a flutter of understanding, but she quickly turned her hand back to the buttons with an icy flip of her hair.
"What floor?" she asked the janitor.
"Oh—just going to 2."
A moment later the janitor was gone, and the elevator felt colder than before. They rode in silence until they reached the ground floor.
They walked through the lobby side by side, but when he stopped to call "Goodnight" to the receptionist, she kept walking. He jogged a couple of steps to catch up with her. They paused under the awning to put on their coats.
"Looks like rain," he said, desperately trying to make things normal again.
All he got in return was, "Mmm."
He turned right home, and was surprised when he didn't hear the clacking of her stilettos echoing the muffled taps of his rubber-soled loafers. He turned around and saw her walking briskly and confidently in the opposite direction.
"Aren't you coming home?"
"Not tonight." She didn't miss a step.
"When?" he said, louder now, longing to follow her, but somehow stuck fast to the spot where he stood.
"Don't know," she said, and kept on walking. She never looked back.
He stood there for a few moments, speechless and unable to move. Finally, he managed a tiny and tentative, "Call me later?" But she was yards away now, too far away to hear, and he got no answer. Turning again, he pulled his coat tighter around him and walked off into the night, the plodding of his loafers echoed only by a few lonely drops of freezing rain
And that's it. A strange little ficlet, really. Any and all thoughts are always appreciated! (See button below.)