Follow Me Back Into The Sun

- Chapter 1: Blues -


She's sitting alone at their table in the cafeteria, raking around in the hospital gunk in front of her, rather concentrated on checking her e-mails on her blackberry. It's around lunchtime and it's loud and she has a headache and when Derek calls she thinks about ignoring it just to make the noise stop. She knows what he's going to say anyway.

"What?" It's not a nice way to pick up, but whatever. It's not nice to cancel dinner via cellphone either and that he's only a few floors away doesn't make it better. She hears the kitchen trays clatter in the background.

"I'm sorry, Addie, I can't make it tonight."

"Well, this is something new."

"Stop with the bitchiness, okay? It's not as if I have a choice -"

"Oh, come on, Derek, there's always a choice. Are you at least sleeping at home tonight?"

"I don't know. Probably not."

"Fine. See you around then." She presses him away before he can add anything and fights the urge to smash her blackberry against the opposite wall. Despite occasionally crossing each other on the hospital floors she hasn't really seen him for five days. Five. He doesn't even know that she's wearing the blue dress today...

"Hey." Mark sets his tray on the table, pulls out a chair and sits down in front of her. "Why are you glaring at me?"

She shakes her head and sighs. "I'm not glaring at anyone."

"Really? See that intern over there? He looks pretty frightened to me."

She manages a weak smile. "Yeah, well, but not because of me."

He chuckles, turning to his food and Addison is glad that at least one of them can still be humorous about this. Not that he isn't concerned, she can see that in his face. He knows that they have problems, better than anyone perhaps, as he is always the one somehow getting in the middle of it.

He looks up from his mashed potatoes. "So how is the crack-baby?"

She grins even though she doesn't like the way he says it. It's nice to know that someone actually listens to her when she talks about her day. Makes her also feel kind of guilty though. She has no idea what he is currently working on. "Better," she says and he nods, pushing his tray away from him.

"This is not eatable."

She snorts. "I know. Wanna come to dinner with me later? Derek's cancelled, but we still have the reservations, so..."

It wouldn't be the first time he's filling in, hell no, but usually Derek's the one asking him to. Always the best friend, that's probably why he hesitates for a moment. She is about to excuse herself for asking, she doesn't want him to pick sides, when he nods slowly.

"Yeah, of course. Derek's busy in the lab again?"

Her pager goes off and she jumps up. "I gotta go." Still, before she does, she purses her lips and adds, "I don't care what he's busy with. He's gonna regret this."

"See you later," Mark calls after her and she raises a hand as an answer as she walks out of the cafeteria, high heels hitting a forceful rhythm on the ground. It feels good to know sometimes that everyone is watching her. It hurts to know all the time that her husband isn't part of this generalization.

XXXXX

He is the last one in the lab, as always, but he's been repairing people's brains in the OR all day and this is important to him too, so it's easy to accept the late hours.

He checks on the rats and keeps the minutes and is satisfied with the results so far. At first it was weird to do a trial in a team of neurologists and Alzheimer's experts, he usually can't stand them, but there are five of them all in all and they take turns, so he doesn't have to cope with them too often. What bothers him far more is that they couldn't get a better equipped lab for this. The chief doesn't believe in any success. He puts all the money in neonatal at the moment. Derek involuntarily snorts at the thought and knows that he should feel guilty, but he doesn't. Yes, only eight other people in the world can do what she does... He's tired of it.

The light flickers and he's not surprised. In case of a blackout this lab is not connected to the emergency generator and it's almost winter. Incoming trouble is as sure as his wife's hair is red, he's certain of that. Luckily, he was just about to leave anyway.

He puts his protocol into the right file and clips his pen to his lab coat, throws a last controlling look towards the rats and leaves the room. On his way to the elevator his blackberry buzzes in his scrubpants' pocket and he represses a sigh when he reads the name on the screen. Addison.

"Hmm?" Not as bad as her What? ten hours earlier he thinks.

"I just wanted to say good night," she says in a small voice that makes him smile against all odds. "I'm not sorry for what I said earlier though, just so you know." Naturally.

"Good night, Addison."

"Listen, Derek," and he puts the phone to his ear again, "I was thinking that we could take a few days off after Christmas and go somewhere, you know, after visiting your mom?"

"Okay."

"Okay? I was thinking about packing rudimentary pyjamas and all."

He chuckles and tone gets a little softer. "Yeah, that sounds very nice. I'll see what I can do to get the days off, all right?"

"You promise?"

"Yes, I promise that I'll try." She represses a sigh at this one and he knows it's a stupid answer, but he doesn't want to make promises he can't keep. Just when he reaches the elevator, he realizes a flickering in the corner of his eye. The light in the lab, damn it! He is sure he's turned it off.

"I gotta go, Addison, someone's in the lab." He takes long steps back into the corridor he just went through. "Good night. I miss you," he murmurs half-heartedly and makes it sound as if she was on the other side of the continent. Whatever.

"Good night," a sad voice says in his hand, he's taken the phone off his ear again, and he hangs up hastily, stuffing it back into his pocket.

"Dr Hansen," he almost pants, as he reaches the lab. There is not much time left for sports when you either have to work or deal with your wife. He is relieved though, Hansen is in the team with him. "I'm sorry, I just saw the light and thought maybe an intern wanted to -" he stops as he catches sight of several syringes in the man's one hand and an open bag in the other. "Hansen, what are you doing?" His tone is as neutral as possible. They don't know each other very well, but Hansen is as well-respected in the field as he is and he doesn't want to draw heady conclusions.

Dr Hansen looks at him for a moment, his facial expression turning from caught to angry. Then his shoulders drop and he slumps forward a bit and, sighing, he meets Derek's eyes with a certain amount of self-pity and hopelessness in his own.

"I need them, okay?" He holds up his hand with the syringes. "My wife's Alzheimer's is getting worse and there is nothing anyone can do about it." Wild gesturing stops Derek from interrupting him. "Look, Shepherd, I know. I know these are experimental and we have no proof of their impact yet, but the rats are fine, aren't they?" He points to the small cages and chuckles nervously.

"They are rats, Hansen, no humans. The im -"

"Exactly," Hansen breaks in, "how can we ever be sure of our achievements if we don't make tests on real patients? My wife can be the first patient!"

"We will do that, when we're ready, Hansen. We just got started. When that gets into your wife's bloodstream, she could die or even worse -"

"I already have the worst, Shepherd!" Hansen's yelling now and Derek wishes that the lab wasn't so far away from everything else in this hospital, so someone could hear them and help him with this.

"Do you know what it's like to live with someone who doesn't recognize you any more? Who doesn't even recognize her own kids? She is 53, for god's sake, and about to become a grandmother and all she can do is stare into space while her fucking nanny reads fucking Harry Potter to her. When she calls me Harry I don't know if she means me, Harold, her husband, or a stupid fictional wizard-boy. That's what my life is like while you and the missus sneak into on-call rooms between surgeries. Believe me, even your wife wouldn't be so hot any more if Alzheimer's was demolishing her brain! God dammit, my Lizzy used to be a lawyer!"

Derek shivers as he watches the broad-shouldered man in front of him burst into irate tears. Hansen is not here as a doctor, but as a loving husband desperately searching for something that can bring his wife back to him, so much is obvious. We're so lucky, he thinks and feels guilty for usually being so unaware of that. Neither he nor Addison have ever been seriously ill and as doctors they should know that this could change any minute. Yet lately they spend all the time they have together with fighting over work and the most banal things. He doesn't know when Hansen watched them sneaking into on-call rooms together, but it sure as hell wasn't within the last two months.

He slowly drives a hand through his hair. No matter how annoying she can be, his life would be incomplete without Addison's pouty phone-calls in the middle of the night, her cold toes against his legs at least once in a while, her laughing and her teasing and her professional bossiness at the hospital.

I don't know, sweetheart, rich girls like her – they can be real heart-breakers.

She isn't just a rich girl, Mom. You don't even know her.

That was the only time he was ever even remotely rude to his mother since his father had died and it meant a lot to him. He fought for the woman he loved. Loves. Hansen fights for the the woman he loves.

He takes a deep breath. "Take four."

Hansen looks up, somewhat shocked. "What?"

"Take four syringes. Give her an injection once a week and keep the minutes on her. You tell me every slightest change in her behaviour, good or bad, bring her in for scans and after a month we decide if it's worth it."

"Thank you." Hansen stumbles toward him, offers to shake on it, but Derek ignores his hand.

"Don't thank me yet. This stays between us, but if anything happens without you telling me I will personally report you to the police. Plus, if this turns out to be a success, we will call it the Shepherd-Method."

Hansen nods eagerly, mumbling thank you, thank you, like a broken record and Derek isn't sure if he will ever be able to respect this man again. All he can feel is deep and honest sympathy.

After he's made sure that Hansen takes only the four syringes they agreed on, they leave the lab together and Derek brings the other man to his car, thinking that this will underline his seriousness.

His knees shake a little as he watches him drive into the night. He hopes not to support a murder here.

XXXXX

Addison's sleepily warm body shifts automatically towards his, like a magnet, and she sighs dozily as she feels his stubbly chin against her shoulder.

"Watcha doin here?" she slurs and he chuckles at her sleepy voice, then lets her turn around in his embrace. She looks at him through small, yet nonetheless suspicious eyes and is instantly more awake. Her hand brushes over his cheek and she clears her throat with more effort than success.

"Honey, did something happen?" she croaks and he wishes she didn't know him so well. Or is it so surprising that he wants to spend the night here, is that it?

"No," he lies and kisses her intensely, aware that there is only one secure method to distract her, before she asks more. He could tell her, he could, he's told her all his secrets, but he still remembers the look on her face after what happened with Sam's pedophile patient. Of course she told him, because he's not one to distract with sex when she comes home upset. And the way she was looking at Sam the next time they saw him made him wish he didn't know. He can't really describe it, but he sure as hell doesn't want her to look at him that way.

So he just keeps kissing her, sliding a hand under her shirt after a little while and letting it wander south after a little while longer.

It's not all about distraction tough; he has seen her wearing that blue dress today.


A/N: Any opinions so far? :)