Derek found Addison sat at the kitchen table, cradling a glass and tapping her fingers on it nervously. He moved without hesitation to stand behind her, not certain of what to say but certain of his need to be closer to her, and stroked her hair, letting the messy curls fall through his fingers like they had done a thousand times before. Unconsciously Addison stopped her tapping and leaned back into his touch but was jolted back to reality at the sound of his voice. Despite constantly worrying about the lack of real conversation, real connection, with her husband, for once Addison longed for silence. In the silence, with her tired body and her tired mind, she could almost forget the present; instead, she could slip gratefully into some near-distant memory of when Derek's touch was just about love, rather than being a desperate attempt at salvaging something from their wreck of a relationship.

"I kept all that stuff for a reason, Addie. Even though it doesn't count for much."

"In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really count for anything," Addison said, meeting her husband's gaze as he sat down opposite her. "It shows us what we've lost, but I think we knew that already, hm?" She smiled weakly and drained her glass.

"It shows us what we could have, what we could get back again," Derek replied.

"Can't you see how pathetic this is Derek? It gets to a point where enough is just…enough."

"We aren't at that point yet," he said, reaching emphatically for his wife's hand and squeezing it. She rolled her eyes.

"Thousands of arguments, countless nights sleeping apart, endless silences, broken promises, flying across the country to be away from each other, a big fat helping of infidelity and three drafts of divorce papers. How on earth are we not at that point?"

"Because you've never once said you've stopped loving me," Derek whispered, releasing his grip on Addison's hand as she stood up to stand by the window. He sensed that he was fighting a losing battle. Once Addison had convinced herself of something, it took a lot to sway her.

"It's late, Derek. I'm tired, and I know you probably have early surgeries so...let's just leave it. For tonight."

"You're right," he sighed, defeated. "I should go."

"Or not," Addison said, turning from the window as Derek went to grab his jacket.

"Meaning what?" he questioned.

"Meaning it's your house too. And it's late. And I think we are mature enough to stay under the same roof without one of us killing the other in their sleep." Addison tried to stop herself from smiling. All of the wine that evening had definitely taken hold.

Derek nodded, pleased to see the softer side of his wife returning, despite everything.

"But you will be on the couch," she said.

"Ah, of course," Derek replied, grinning, before walking over to Addison and standing in front of her. His eyes flitted to her lips, and his mind flitted to thoughts of kissing her, but she bowed her head quickly. Brushing a curtain of hair back from her face, he touched his lips to her forehead.

"Derek," she pleaded, "Don't." Addison's pulse was racing faster than she would have liked and having him so close was making her head reel. She shut her eyes.

"Night, Addie."

Upon hearing him walk away she released the breath she had been holding.

"Night," she whispered, to an empty room.