A/N: I hadn't planned on writing a story that dealt with Derek's death, mostly because I haven't watched the show for a while, so I don't have a great sense of the characters, their interactions, and the general feel of Grey's anymore. But I guess I don't really need full knowledge of the most recent seasons (though I tried to include some stuff) to write Addison's reaction to Derek's death. And it actually turned into a good opportunity to explore/create Addison and Derek's history, which is something I love doing in Addison/Derek stories.
I'm also thinking about including a follow-up chapter on the way that Amelia deals with Derek's death (the title of this story was actually made with her in mind). I'm not sure how much attention was given to Amelia's response on the show, but it could be something to explore. But I may also just leave the story as is. We'll see, I guess.
Anyway, I hope you like this. And as always, thanks so much for reading!
Antigone
People got their ways of coping,
Oh, and I've got mine.
-I Drive Your Truck
The past few days had been a blur. Everything had been a blur since she'd gotten Amelia's phone call, informing her that the unthinkable had happened—that Derek had died. At first, Addison didn't believe Amelia. Even hours after she'd hung up the phone, she kept waiting for Amelia to call her back and say that it had been some kind of mistake, and that Derek was perfectly fine. But Amelia never called back. And reality began to set in.
She and Derek may not have been married anymore, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. She and Derek had been married for eleven-plus years. For nearly a third of her life, she had loved him more than anything or anyone else in the world. Of course, it hurt.
She went to the funeral. For Derek. And also for Amelia. Jake stayed in LA with Henry, giving Addison the space to grieve in whatever way she needed.
It turned out that Derek's funeral in Seattle wasn't what she needed. She was able to check on Amelia, and that was good. But that was pretty much all that was good. Because Derek's funeral in Seattle didn't allow Addison to grieve—not in a meaningful way.
People say that funerals are for the living, and that's generally true. But Derek's funeral in Seattle wasn't for her. Because Derek's funeral didn't commemorate the man that she had known. The funeral commemorated Meredith's husband, and Zola and Bailey's father. It commemorated McDreamy, and an extraordinary surgeon. And, in all honesty, that's probably how Derek would have wanted to be remembered. (Though probably not in the emotionally stunted way that his funeral was conducted). But funerals are for the living, and so are memories—and that's not how Addison wanted to commemorate Derek. That's not how she wanted to remember him.
She didn't know what possessed her to buy a plane ticket to New York, instead of returning home to LA. But as she waited for her flight to board, she found herself calling Jake, explaining that she was extending her trip and flying out to New York. She rambled incoherently about Derek's funeral. About how with all of the unprocessed emotions and forced stoicism, the funeral was more Meredith than Derek. And, unsurprisingly, it hadn't given her the comfort she had been hoping for. In all honesty, it'd had the opposite effect.
She knew she was making no sense; but Jake told her not to worry about it…that he got it. That people have different ways of coping, and she should do whatever she needed to do. In the meantime, he'd take care of Henry.
So, she boarded a plane to New York. To grieve fully and completely. To not tiptoe around emotions. To honor and remember a man that nobody in Seattle knew…a man that only she knew.
The first place she went, after her plane landed, was Columbia Med. School. It's where she and Derek first met, so it made sense. She walked around aimlessly for a while, walking in and out of the lecture halls where she, Derek, and Mark had once taken classes.
She lingered for a moment in one of the laboratories—where she and Derek had cut open the cadaver together. Everyone knew his version of the story. Not many people knew hers.
Their eyes met over the cadaver, and she almost couldn't believe how blue his eyes were. And to her surprise, his piercing blue eyes seemed to be focused on her. She'd dated a fair bit in college, but never anyone as good looking as the guy standing across from her. Even the most attractive guys she knew didn't compare to this guy. She discretely looked around, assuming that he wasn't actually looking at her—that he had to be staring at someone else. But she quickly realized she was surrounded by men. Maybe he swung that way. She bit her lip, and cautiously met his eyes again. This time there was no uncertainty. He wasn't looking at one of the guys standing next to her. He was looking at her. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and she gave him a slight smile, as her professor's ramblings about the cadaver's mitral valve faded into the background.
"I'm Derek," the guy whispered, offering her a warm smile.
"Addison," she whispered back.
"And I'm Stuart," the guy next to her cut in angrily. "I'm actually trying to pass this class," Stuart continued through gritted teeth. "So if you two wouldn't mind…"
"Sorry," Derek whispered, doing his best not to chuckle. "It's, uh, it's nice to meet you, Addison," he smiled. "You too, Stuart."
Derek later told Addison that the reason he had introduced himself to her in the middle of class was that he couldn't wait until the end of class. Because waiting any longer than he already had to introduce himself would have been too long for him.
That part of their story never made it into Derek's song. And Addison liked it that way. It kept a piece of their story—a piece of their history—just between them.
She swallowed thickly, lingering just a moment longer in the place where the Addison-and-Derek chapter of her life began…the place where she-and-Derek began.
Her next stop was Mount Sinai Hospital—the place where her and Derek's careers really took off. They did their internships and residency there, and they both eventually became attendings there as well.
Gaining access to the hospital was easy. Addison had played a huge part in building up Mount Sinai's reputation in maternal fetal medicine, so the hospital staff was more than eager to grant her access to wherever she wanted to go.
She started in the ORs … the places where she and Derek had performed life-saving surgeries. And the places where they'd experienced crushing defeats and losses.
She walked past the coffee cart where she and Derek used to get coffee. It was kind of funny how something as simple as coffee could be such a strong reminder of Derek. Addison only drank black coffee. But that hadn't always been the case. She used to take her coffee with lots of cream and sugar. But Derek only drank black coffee. And eventually he converted her … to the point where she found anything other than black coffee undrinkable.
She hadn't thought about that for a while. Even though she drank coffee every day. It was such a simple, mundane thing, really—drinking coffee. But now she was pretty sure she'd never again be able to drink coffee without thinking about Derek. She took her coffee black because he had taken his coffee black.
Without really thinking about it, she ordered a coffee from the coffee cart—black, of course—and made her way towards the on-call rooms.
She immediately found the on-call room she was looking for, and tentatively opened the door, hoping it would be unoccupied.
It was, and she sat down on one of the beds. The thin mattress had surely been replaced since she'd last worked there, but it essentially felt the same. For her, the on-call room wasn't tied to memories of sex (though sex had certainly happened there). It was tied to another memory. A deeper memory.
"Hey," Addison said, walking into the on-call room and joining her fiancé on the bed. She took in the look of distress on his face, the distant look in his eyes. "Are you upset?"
"I …I don't know," Derek admitted.
"I don't see why you'd be upset, Honey. You just assisted on a really tough neuro case. And you were amazing. You're one of the main reasons the patient survived."
Derek sighed heavily. "I really like neuro," he admitted guiltily.
Addison nodded. "You're great at it."
"Thanks," Derek said quietly. "It's just … I can't specialize in it."
"Why not?" Addison asked in confusion. "You're so good at neuro. I mean, I know you want to specialize in trauma … and you're good that too. But, Derek, you're really good at neuro. And you seem to like it more."
"I do," Derek nodded. "But I came in wanting to specialize in trauma. I have to specialize in trauma."
Addison looked at her fiancé curiously, silently encouraging him to continue.
"I've told you about my dad."
"Yeah."
"I always thought that if there had been a trauma surgeon on hand, maybe he would have survived. So I've always wanted to be a trauma surgeon … so I could help people like my dad. And if I don't go into trauma, it's like I'm … I don't know."
"Do you want to know what I think?" Addison asked gently.
"Yeah."
"I think your dad would be proud of you regardless. Derek, you save lives for a living. Whether you go into nuero or trauma, you're helping people. And maybe you came in wanting to specialize in trauma because you want to help people like your dad. But, Honey, going into neuro doesn't mean you're turning your back on what happened to your dad, or that you're any less affected by it." She met his eyes, and gently ran a hand through his dark hair. "Whether you go into neuro or trauma, you're going to save lives. You're going to save someone else's father's life. And your dad will be so proud. And so will I."
"I, uh," Derek choked out, a slight smile forming on his face. "I hadn't thought about it that way," he admitted. "Thank you, Addison."
Addison gave her fiancé a warm smile. "I love you, Derek."
She remembered the first time Derek performed brain surgery, and saved a father's life. The man's name was Wayne Fielding, and he had a young son, Matthew. She remembered watching discretely as Derek informed Wayne's wife that her husband was going to be okay. She remembered the look on Derek's face as he made light-hearted conversation with Matthew. She remembered the two of them locking themselves in an on-call room, once Derek had finished filling out post-ops and paperwork. He cried. And so did she. That was the moment Derek knew he'd made the right choice specializing in neuro.
It was a part of Derek Shepherd's surgical career that very few people knew about. Most of his colleagues in New York and all of his colleagues in Seattle assumed that Derek's path to neuro had always been straight and direct. Addison knew otherwise. She was one of the few who did.
"Oh, uh, I'm sorry," a young woman, dressed in scrubs, stammered, as she walked into Addison's on-call room. "I, um, I didn't realize someone was in here. I can go somewhere else."
Addison shook her head and gave the woman a smile. "That's okay," she said. "I was just about to leave."
And as she exited the on-call room, she had to admit that it felt weird—for that intern or resident, or whatever that young woman was not to recognize her. In another time, another place that wouldn't have been the case. In a world without cheating, without Seattle, the woman would have recognized her … and Derek.
Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she made her way out of the hospital, and hailed a cab. And as she rode through the busy streets, she quickly realized she wasn't just riding through the streets of Manhattan. She was riding through memories—memories of Addison-and-Derek.
She passed the Empire State Buildings, where she and Derek used to brown bag it. Even though they ate lunch up there frequently, she'd always insist that they couldn't leave until they looked through the cute little viewfinders. He'd always pretend to be annoyed, and tell her that the view never changed. But she knew he found it endearing. I like that you like cute little viewfinders in every city you live in.
She passed restaurants. Ones she and Derek had loved; ones they'd hated; and ones that they never got around to (and never would get around to) trying.
She passed Rockefeller Center. Usually, they tried to avoid it, if possible. But not at Christmas. They loved Christmas, and Rockefeller Center came alive at Christmas. So they were more than willing to put up with the crowds and tourists for a bit of Christmas spirit, and their yearly photo in front of the tree.
"Is this the place, Ma'am?" the cab driver asked, ripping Addison from her thoughts.
Addison looked up and nodded. "Yeah. It is. Thank you."
She paid the cab fare, and made her way into the building—Pierre's Dance Studio. She wasn't sure if it would still be there; but as she walked through the lobby, she was pleasantly surprised to see that it looked exactly the same as it had the last time she was there.
"Remind me what we're doing here again?" Derek asked his fiancée. "Neither of us are dancers, you realize that, right?"
"I know," Addison nodded. "It's …" she trailed off, choosing her words carefully. "It's a favor to Bizzy."
Derek sighed. "I don't see why it's so important to her that we know how to ballroom dance for our wedding. It's not important to me."
"It's not important to me either. But a lot of our family and her friends from various yacht and country clubs are going to be there …and she wants to make a good impression on them. So, I'm just thinking of us taking dance lessons as a favor to her. And, hey, you never know; it might fun."
"Maybe," Derek said doubtfully, as he followed his fiancée into the dance studio.
"Bonjour!" a man with a thick, French accent greeted them. "You may call me Pierre. I will be your dance instructor."
"I'm Addison," Addison said, extending her hand. "And this is Derek."
"You are a very good looking couple," Pierre approved, looking Addison and Derek over, appraising them. "This will be very good. I can tell."
Pierre could not have been more wrong.
"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!" Pierre exclaimed, cringing as he watched Addison and Derek attempt to waltz.
"You," he said, motioning at Derek. "You need to provide a stronger frame. Stand up straight. Don't slouch. And you," he said gesturing towards Addison. "You're off rhythm. And you have, how they say … two left feet. Now, try it again from the top."
Addison sighed heavily, as she and Derek resumed dancing. "We're terrible," she whispered to her fiancé.
"No slouching!" Pierre reprimanded.
Derek laughed. "I think we're the worst ones in the class."
"Definitely," Addison agreed.
"You're off rhythm again!" Pierre called out. "Listen to the music. Feel the music."
"How many more sessions do we have with Pierre?" Derek asked his fiancée.
"After this?" Addison smirked. "Eleven more."
"Ugh, really?"
"Beautiful couple, stand up straight!"
Addison looked at her fiancé mischievously. "I don't think it's necessary that we attend every single session."
"I agree," Derek chuckled. "Oh, and just so you know; after our wedding, I'm never dancing in public again."
xxxxx
Their first dance session had finally ended, and they were prepared to go home, when Derek motioned to Addison.
"Ad, come here," he said with a smile on his face, leading her into another section of the dance studio.
It was the waiting area for a children's ballet class. There were a couple of parents waiting for their children, but the waiting area was mostly empty. Addison and Derek made their way towards a small observation window to catch a glimpse of the children's ballet class currently taking place.
The children in the ballet class seemed to range from around age six to age ten. And the little girls weren't half bad. In fact, some of them were really quite good. But Addison couldn't look away from an adorable little redheaded girl, who always seemed to be about two steps behind the rest of the class.
She turned to her fiancé, and could tell that Derek's eyes were fixed on the same little redhead.
"She's adorable," Derek smiled, turning and meeting his fiancée's eyes.
"She is," Addison agreed.
"She's kind of what I imagine a daughter of ours might look like," Derek admitted after a moment.
Addison gave him a loving smile, placing her hand in his, as they directed their attention back to the little girl who was quickly winning over their hearts.
"She has our sense of rhythm too," Addison added, laughing out loud as the little girl twirled left, while the rest of the class twirled right.
Derek chuckled and met his fiancée's eyes. Not a word was spoken; but everything was understood. He wanted that. She wanted that. A little redheaded daughter that they could take to dance class. Who wouldn't be the most graceful or rhythmic dancer; but who would look damn cute trying.
In the end, Addison and Derek ended up going to all of their dance classes. Not so much to learn how to dance, themselves (though they danced a very passable waltz at their wedding). But to watch the little redheaded ballerina who was always two steps behind the rest of the class … Jenna, they called her. (Though they'd never learn her real name).
"Can I help you?" a thick, French accented voice asked, cutting into Addison's thoughts.
Addison recognized the voice immediately. It was the voice of the man who had relentlessly criticized her and Derek's dancing many, many years ago.
"Hi, Pierre," she smiled.
"I'm sorry," Pierre said in confusion. "But do I know you?"
"My husband and I took dance lessons with you several years ago," Addison explained, purposely omitting the 'ex' part of ex-husband. What happened between her and Derek was none of Pierre's business.
"Ah," Pierre nodded. "Have you kept up with the dancing?"
"No," Addison said, shaking her head.
"Well, if you ever want to pick it up again, my door is always open," Pierre smiled.
Addison chuckled. Clearly, Pierre didn't remember her. She was pretty sure that if he had remembered her and Derek, he wouldn't have extended the offer.
"Tell me," Pierre continued. "Your husband … he's good?"
"Yes," Addison nodded. Technically, it wasn't a lie. Jake was good. Amazing, even. But that wasn't the he he was asking for?
"Well, if you need anything …" Pierre trailed off.
"Thank you," Addison smiled.
She watched Pierre's retreating form for a moment before making her way towards the children's ballet studio. A class was in session, and the waiting area was mostly empty.
She peered into the observation window, the déjà vu of the whole thing hitting her so hard she could barely breathe. And she wondered if Derek ever got to do this with his own daughter. A part of her hoped he hadn't. This was supposed to be their thing. But a bigger part of her hoped he had. She knew how much Derek had wanted this. And at the end of the day, she wanted him to be happy. She was, after all.
Weary, and emotionally drained, she made her way back to her hotel. And as she headed up the elevator, she kind of wished she hadn't chosen a place that reminded her so much of Derek—the place with the bed. "Do you remember that one place?" Even when he was beyond angry with her, he remembered it. "With the bed?" It was hard not to remember it.
She walked into her hotel room and kicked off her heels, sinking into the big, comfortable bed, with the heavenly soft sheets. She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes tightly, doing her best to compose herself. But it was little use; she could feel the tears trickling down her cheeks.
She hadn't cried at Derek's funeral. The whole tone was too stiff and awkward for crying. But she was crying now. Openly and uncontrollably.
"Hey, don't cry," Derek said gently, as he joined Addison on the bed, wrapping a comforting arm around her.
"Sorry," Addison sniffled, as she fought back tears. "I know this was supposed to be a romantic getaway … and I'm ruining it."
"You're not ruining it," Derek reassured his wife, as he continued to hold her close. "You just lost a patient. You're allowed to be upset."
Addison nodded, letting her husband's words sink in. She always took it hard when she lost patients; though, over the years, she'd gotten considerably better at becoming less emotionally involved and attached. But, today, she'd lost a stillborn. And stillborns were her Achilles' heel.
"Let me make you feel better," Derek whispered.
Addison smiled as her lips connected with her husband's. The kiss started gently … slowly. But it quickly became more heated. Her breathing became shallow as he trailed feather-light kisses down her neck and across her right shoulder.
"You smell good," he murmured against her skin.
Her hands flew to his pants, her fingers at his zipper. They quickly removed the little clothes they still had on.
She could hear his ragged breathing; his raspy breath against her neck sending shivers throughout her body. He was close. So was she.
When they finished, they lay there in the big, comfortable bed, skin glistening, still trying to catch their breath.
"I've decided," Derek said, wrapping an arm around Addison, and positioning her so that her head was resting on his bare chest, "we're not leaving this bed the entire weekend."
"Really?" Addison chuckled.
"Really," Derek confirmed. "I don't care about-"
But he was cut off by a sharp tap at the door. "Room service! I have your complimentary champagne."
Addison looked at Derek questioningly; and Derek gave her a mischievous smile. "Can you come back later?" he asked. "We're kind of busy right now."
"Derek," Addison laughed.
"What?" Derek shrugged. "We'll have our champagne. But let's get some more use out of the bed first."
That had been a great weekend. The perfect little getaway. They always vowed to go back there … to the place with the bed. We should go back there. Of course, they never did.
It's tough for her to reconcile her emotions. She knew that if he were still alive, Derek probably wouldn't want to be remembered the way she'd remembered him. He'd made a new life for himself with new people and new memories. Just as she had. But memories are for the living. And these were her memories of Derek. And for a significant amount of time, they were Derek. These memories told the story of a man that no one in Seattle knew. But a man who existed, nonetheless. These memories were a large chapter in the book of Derek Shepherd's life.
"I hope you were happy," she murmured, not intending to vocalize her thoughts out loud.
It was the truth, though. For all the hurt she'd caused him, and all the pain they'd caused each other, in the end, she wanted him to be happy.
She didn't know if this was the case … if he had been happy. At his funeral, there were veiled whispers … about his fragile marriage … about D.C. … about possible cheating on his end (depending on how you define cheating, of course).
She didn't ask about the rumors. It seemed inappropriate, for starters. But it also wasn't her business anymore. She knew first hand that when people were debating the finer points of infidelity, it typically wasn't a good sign for a marriage. But she kept those thoughts to herself. She wasn't part of that marriage; so she, like Derek's gossipy colleagues, could never know the truth. And she was fine with that. She just hoped he was happy.
"It feels surreal that you're not here anymore," she continued quietly. She shook her head sadly. A lot of time had passed. New interns and residents at Mount Sinai didn't recognize her. That little, redheaded ballerina, who had once captured her heart, was now a teenager. And she and Derek had married other people, and started families with them. But that didn't matter. Derek would always hold an important place in her heart. Things like time and divorce and death don't change that.
"Keep an eye on Mark," she sniffled, another sharp pang of sadness hitting her, as she thought about the other important man she'd lost. "Oh, and could you keep an eye on Bizzy too? I'm sure there's no room for elitism in heaven. And she needs someone to keep her in her place."
In all honesty, Addison wasn't sure if she believed in heaven. But with all of the people she'd lost, it had become easier—more comforting—for her to just believe.
"I feel kind of guilty," she admitted. "Asking you to do things for me…even in death. But, um, I'll do things for you too. I'll watch out for Amelia. And not even as an obligation to you. But because she's the closest thing I've ever had to a sister, and I love her. And I want to watch out for her."
She ran a hand through her hair, doing her best to keep her tears at bay. "I was thinking about your son," she continued. "Bailey. He reminds me of you. Growing up without his father … surrounded by girls, Zola and Sofia. And I know how much it meant to you to have Mark by your side when you were growing up." She swallowed thickly. "I have a son, Henry. He's adorable and mischievous … a lot like Mark, actually. Maybe he and Bailey could be friends ... you know, Mark and Derek 2.0. I know it won't be the same as you and Mark, since I live in LA. But if Meredith's okay with it, I'd be happy to have Bailey come out to LA to visit. And I'd be happy to send Henry to Seattle too. I don't know; something to think about, I guess."
She swallowed roughly, tears stinging her eyes. Maybe she was rewriting history. Remembering the good. Omitting the bad. But that was her right. That was how she was choosing to grieve. And nobody was going to deny her memories or tell her to grieve differently.
Indifference, infidelity, anger, hurt, deceit, and pain had all been very real aspects of her marriage to Derek. But so had happiness, success, and desire. Eyes meeting over a cadaver, secrets and fears shared in on-call rooms, endless cups of black coffee, dance lessons, and fantasies of a future they'd never share together. And love. That had been real too.
"Goodbye, Derek," she whispered. She hadn't mourned him in Seattle. Not in the way he'd deserved. But she'd mourned him here. Fully and completely.
Tomorrow she'd return to LA. And Jake, being the saint of a man that he was, wouldn't press her for details or explanations. He'd just want to make sure she's okay. She's ready to go back to that. To Jake and Henry. To the practice. And the beach. To a life that makes her truly happy.
But that can wait until tomorrow. Because tonight she has other plans. She'll spend tonight in bed. In her hotel's big, comfortable bed; wrapped in a soft, beige comforter and the memories of a life that ended much too soon.