A/N: Yes, I have finally decided to make this into a story... hope you guys enjoy! Please R&R!


Derek's resolution to rediscover his love for Addison was much easier said than done. His pride had been wounded monumentally by her betrayal, regardless of the fact that she wasn't even solely to blame and had apologized immensely. When he had driven home that night after operating on Celia Booker, his intentions had been pure. He was going to love Addison and work on their marriage.

And then it had become so easy to forget. They'd gone their separate ways when they arrived at the hospital the next morning, the only thing changed that he held her hand until the last possible moment. After that, his attempts had all but ceased. It was now four days after he had promised Addison he would work on it, and his promise had been all but forgotten.

Especially since he hadn't seen his wife the entire day. Bailey had assigned Meredith to him, and they'd spent the entire day working as a well-oiled team. It had been nice; it had been comfortable.

Yes, being with Meredith was nice. Being with her was comfortable and easy. Addison made things complicated, Addison made him earn everything he sought, but with Meredith it required no effort. That was exactly why he sought Meredith out, as "friends" or even more: it was nice to have a relationship that required no work.

He did hate himself for waffling between the two women. It wasn't that he doubted his choice; choosing Addison was one of the smarter things he had ever done. But it was so hard to make his marriage work. It was exhausting.

Which was exactly why a sigh escaped his lips as he entered the trailer and found Addison fully awake and finishing paperwork in the middle of the trailer floor.

"Hey," She didn't look up from the chart she was perusing.

"Hi," Derek slipped his shoes off and gave Doc a pat on the head before heading back to their so-called bedroom.

In the bedroom, he took an abnormally long time changing into lounge pants and a gray T-shirt from NYU in hopes that Addison would be heading to bed by the time he finished, and they wouldn't have to have a talk. He had no such luck for Addison's head was still bent over a chart as she scribbled notes.

"I'm going to heat up some of that trout," Derek opened the refrigerator, "Do you want some?"

Addison glanced up and wrinkled her nose, a slightly sick expression on her face, "No thanks, I'm not feeling so wonderful."

Derek took a moment of concern to observe Addison, but she didn't look too ill so he thought nothing of it. With a shrug, he placed part of the filet on a plate and slipped it into the microwave. He set it up to heat for a few minutes and hopped onto the counter to wait.

The smell of the trout began wafting through the trailer, and as the strength increased Addison leapt to her feet and scurried to the bathroom. It took Derek only an instant longer than his wife for him to slip from the counter and follow her. He instinctively kneeled beside her. He placed one hand supportively on her back and used the other to hold her hair from her face as she leaned over the toilet.

A while later, Addison sat back and glanced pitifully at Derek. He stood and reached for a cup they kept by the sink and offered it to her.

"Are you okay?" He'd thrown away all of the resentful feelings toward her, at least for a moment.

Addison took a cautious sip of the water before answering with a nod, "Yeah, I'm fine. Seriously."

He kneeled in front of her and placed his hand on her forehead, "Do you have a fever?"

"No, I'm fine, Derek," Addison repeated adamantly.

Derek nodded, "I believe you because people usually puke because they're fine?"

Addison rolled her eyes and stood slowly, "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, "Would you humor me and just go to bed? You look exhausted."

Not that she would ever admit it, but Addison was exhausted. She shrugged, "Okay."

"I'll be there in a bit," He watched her exit the bathroom and returned to the kitchen.

The smell of the fish was still in the apartment so he took the plate outside and set it on the ground for Doc to eat. As he searched through the refrigerator for something with a less offensive smell, his mind drifted to the episode he had just witnessed.

Seeing Addison rush to the bathroom to be sick had activated some primal desire in him to care for her. It didn't matter that he didn't feel exceptionally close to her lately, Addison needed him, and he wanted to help her. Maybe it was just a natural instinct to want to take care of and comfort someone in need, but he also couldn't help but wonder if maybe it had a little bit to do with his feelings for Addison.

- -

"Grey, I need you to run the labs on Mrs. Frakes and bring them to me as soon as they're available," Addison walked from the exam room and handed the chart to Meredith.

Meredith nodded, "Is that all?"

"Put a rush on them," Addison walked away briskly in the direction of the bathroom, leaving Meredith alone without a goodbye.

It had been two days since Derek had come home and induced a bout of sickness by fixing trout. The nauseous feeling from that evening had not ever really subsided, though she had only gotten physically sick two other times. She knew she wasn't sick, as she didn't have a fever and had no symptoms other than occasional nausea, but she was definitely feeling exhausted from her hectic work schedule.

These thoughts were all running through Addison's head as she threw herself into a stall in the bathroom and leaned her head over the toilet bowl. Once she had finished emptying her stomach she sat back slowly and stood. When she turned to approach the sink she came face to face with Miranda Bailey, standing hand on hip glaring at Addison.

"Miranda," Addison made her way past the "nazi" to the sink.

"Are you sick?" Bailey followed Addison to the sink but didn't soften her glare.

"I'm not sick," She cupped water in her hand and rinsed the taste from her mouth, "Just a little nauseous."

Bailey cocked and eyebrow and appraised her friend, "Exhausted?"

Addison, who was fixing her hair, looked at Bailey in the mirror, "I'm fine, Miranda. Between you and my husband I'm feeling a little bit smothered."

The other woman would not be deterred, "You're exhausted. Am I right?"

"Fine, I'll admit it. I've been a little more fatigued than usual," Addison grabbed a paper towel to dry her hands.

Bailey observed Addison for a moment, her mind working overtime. When she finally spoke again, Addison was impatiently standing by the door waiting for her friend to end the conversation.

"Are your breasts sore?" Bailey finally asked.

Addison was taken aback by the question, "Miranda! We are not having this discussion."

Bailey shrugged, but her eyebrow was still raised quizzically.

It was no wonder her interns called her the nazi. Her methods of interrogation and guilt matched that of any experienced military operator. Addison gave an overly dramatic sigh and answered begrudgingly, "Fine. Yes, Miranda, my boobs are sore."

At that, Bailey crossed her arms over her chest and flashed Addison a satisfied and cocky smile.

"How can you get satisfaction out of the tenderness of my boobs?" Addison accused and turned for the door, "I'm leaving before this conversation can get any stranger."

With a self-assured walk, Addison left the bathroom confidently. She was halfway to the nurse's station, intent on retrieving a patient's chart, when she stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly she turned around and looked to Bailey who was now standing in the hall watching Addison.

"Do you need something?" Bailey had a gloating grin on her face.

Curiosity was getting the best of her, and she sighed. Her words came out slow and controlled, "Why, exactly, were you asking me those questions?"