Chapter 10
The Only Thing I Can Remember

A/N: The title for this chapter is taken again from If There's a Rocket, Tie Me to It which also happens to be the song that inspired this whole project. So, if you've not heard it, check it out ASAP. :)

Derek,

It's my seventh night here, and I'll start by saying that it is of course, nothing like I expected. I thought that I had built up a decent picture in my head of the condition people would be in, how their temporary "homes" would look. In my head I thought I knew the sort of "food" they would be eating, the color their water would be... Nothing could have prepared me for this. To be honest, I don't know whether I can really tolerate it. You come from places like Boston and Seattle, and you think you can at least grasp what life must be like in a war-torn third world country, until you actually visit one for the first time. Then it hits you in the face that you didn't have a clue.

Other than that, though, things are okay. I had a terrible layover in Cairo before landing in Nyala—even the internet was out, or I would have contacted you before now. I share quarters with an affable woman named Marie LaFayette. She's a French-Canadian general surgeon, and she's promised to help me improve my French. That's another thing; more natives here than doctors speak English. Many of them are French.

Oh, my internet access time is nearly up. Give James a kiss from me. Stay safe traveling.

Love,

Meredith

Derek hesitated before navigating his browser from Meredith's brief letter and back to his inbox. He sighed heavily. It had been two weeks since his arrival in California, yet this was the first he had heard from his wife. Honestly the first time he had wondered where a letter was, had been the instant he saw her name in his e-mail. Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach at this realization. His wife, her whereabouts, and safety status should have been rather high up on his internal list of priorities. He hated himself for realizing that those things were hardly even on the list al all, that he had taken them all for granted to be okay. He hated himself for the fact that all of his time lately had been spent throwing back could ones over games of poker and blackjack with new friends, and finding excuses to spend time with his ex-wife and daughter. But, no, came another realization, he didn't hate himself for those things at all. Though that thought alone was enough for him to feel quite deplorable.

Derek stood up from his laptop, closing the lid as he did so, and stretched. It was eight a.m. on November twentieth. Yesterday had been long and, admittedly, exhilarating. He had held a scalpel in his hand for the first time in what felt like months, and had actually saved a woman's life with it. That kind of high never got old, and Derek's tolerance for it was currently low. So low, that even this morning he was still feeling the effects. He strode out to Sam's deck, allowing the cool, salty air to tangle his fresh-from-the-bed hair. Almost reflexively, he turned his head slightly to the right where his eyes landed on what they had been hoping to see.

He waved to the robed redhead, who returned the gesture with a raise of the mug she was carrying. Derek all but suppressed a grin as he held up a finger and darted back inside. Sam had left early that morning for his daughter's home in San Diego, so the house belonged to the Shepherd men until after Thanksgiving.

Derek found James in front of the television watching The Magic School Bus. "Hey, Jamie, how would you like to go see Aunt Addie and Carson?"

James whipped his head around at this suggestion. "Yes, please." He made to get up, but hesitated. "Carson has Magic School Bus at her house too, doesn't she?"

Derek smiled, shrugging on a jacket over his pajamas. "I'm sure she does. Get your shoes and a jacket on, now."

James did as he was told, as always he did, and within five minutes Derek and his miniature were knocking on Addison's front door.

"Oh—coming!" came a small girl's voice from the other side.

"Check the peep hole first, honey." Derek heard the sound of a patio door sliding shut before the door swung open and a young girl with dark, somewhat tangled curls stood before him.

"It's okay, Mommy, it's just Uncle Derek and James!" she shouted, moving aside so the two Shepherds could come inside.

"Inside voices, Carson. And did you comb your hair like I told you?" said Addison as she came to stand behind her daughter. She fidgeted with the lapel of her silken robe, bringing her eyes up to meet Derek's, seeming to have grown used to Carson ignoring her questions. "If you had said you were coming over, I would have at least changed..."

Derek stepped across the threshold, smiling as James and Carson ran off to watch their Saturday morning cartoons. "Addison, we occupied the same cage for eleven years. You don't need to dress up for me." His smile turned wry, his words a little drier than normal.

Addison scowled at him, but he knew her well enough, even now, to know the expression was not to be taken seriously. "You don't have to remind me," she responded in a monotone.

"Didn't enjoy our time together?" he quipped facetiously, hands behind his back and a mock look of seriousness on his face.

"Oh, please. Let's be normal. Just this one day. Can we be normal?"

"You do realize that there is absolutely nothing normal about our friendship?"

She paused, dropping her free hand from her lacy lapel to her hip. "Is that what we're calling it now? A friendship?"

Derek grinned, a little mischievously. "Let's don't be awkward, now, Addie." The pet name was off his tongue before he could stop himself. What sort of game were they playing right now, anyway?

She threw back her head, looking desperate. "Ugh, why, why do you have to be so weird?" And she began walking away from him at that.

"Oh, I apologize. Let's try some 'normalcy,' as you said, then. What's for breakfast?" He asked pleasantly, following her into the kitchen, where she began rinsing out her mug.

"Oh, well, I hadn't given it much thought. I suppose it's just a cold cereal kind of morning." She placed the mug back on the hook by the coffee mug as she spoke, then turned to face him, both hands on hips now.

Derek laughed. "Addison Montgomery! Cereal? On a Saturday morning?" He shook his head patronizingly and moved to the refrigerator, feeling at once in his element.

He heard a groan from behind him as he sifted through the contents within. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like? Making breakfast." He retreated from the icebox with arms full.

"No way! Go home and make your own breakfast!" She glanced around, and found a copy of yesterday's paper by the sink, which she proceeded to swat him with, laughing buoyantly.

Derek joined in with her contagious laughter as he spread the ingredients for pancakes and eggs on the nearest counter top, ducking easily out of her reach. He spun around, lunging for the paper, but she was just quick enough for his hands to come up empty. He made another swipe as she made another swing at his shoulder. This time, he caught her hand, causing the redhead to spin toward him. Both laughing hysterically at this point, their bodies crashed together. A silence fell rather abruptly, eyes meeting like two pairs of blue magnets. And there was something in Addison's gaze that Derek recognized, something he had not seen from anyone, let alone her, in a long time. It would later be this look on which he blamed his next action.

A hand was cradling the back of her neck in an instant, eyes fluttered closed and lips met, a little forcefully. A hand was snaking around his waist, pulling him closer as her lips parted. Derek responded without hesitation, without thought, deepening the kiss he had so sorely, so terribly missed. He felt her free hand gripping at the back of his T-shirt. The hand not at the moment tangled in auburn hair gently placed fingertips upon her abdomen, began tugging at the knotted belt on her robe—

"Derek." The kiss was broken with a sharp intake of air. Her hands flew from him as if burned. "Derek, the kids—" She broke off distractedly. "You're married, and I—Carson... We can't do this. I can't do this. This isn't right and it isn't fair for you to do this again." She met his eyes, and where he expected to see anger or at least sternness, there seemed instead to be a certain pleading look. "It's not fair to me, or to Meredith. It's not fair to those children in the living room who would be... so confused. And honestly, Derek, it's not fair to you. You deserve so much better. You deserve one good woman. Constantly going between the two of us is... well, it can't be healthy." She paused and swiped at her watery eyes. "Pancake mix? That sounds like a great idea."

o0o0o

Addison knew, after breakfast and after Derek and his son had returned to Sam's, that she had brought that on. That near miss had been entirely her fault because she had been, well, flirting with her ex-husband. But that look had been in his eye again. That same look she was sure she had seen beneath her porch light as she had said good night after their day at the beach. The worst part—or perhaps the most easily excusable part—was that she hadn't been able to help herself. And judging by the way he touched her, he hadn't been able to, either. It had been a long time since she had been with a man, and she felt a pang of painful sympathy when she realized that, married though he was, Derek was probably sharing the same sentiment. That explained it, then. It wasn't a matter of old feelings returning like some cheesy Barry Manilow song, it was simply human physiology working against them; an itch they both couldn't help wanting to scratch.

But, Addison thought as she arranged the breakfast ware in her dishwasher, they would have to scratch their itches with someone (or something, even) else, because she, for one, was not going to allow herself to end up in the same position as last time.

o0o0o

Meredith,

I'm glad to hear that you're well, and sorry to hear that you don't like it there. I'm sure that you'll get used to it. Your room reads like an interesting person. It's good that you're making friends, at least. I hope you're staying safe over there, that you've not done anything terribly silly. I'm joking, don't bite my head off.

James and I are doing well stateside, though I don't believe you actually asked. But who am I to blame you for that, when you've obviously got a lot on your mind? We're spending Thanksgiving in New York with my mother and sisters. Amelia is due to any day now. God help my mother, having to deal with sixteen grandchildren! I hope you have someone to celebrate with over there.

There are some things that we need to discuss when you find the time.

—Derek

He leaned back, away from the computer screen, unsure whether to press "send." The letter seemed so dry, so forced. When had that happened? Could he not stay in lovewith one person? Was there something wrong with him? But a small voice in the back of his head answered, But there is someone you've always been in love with, someone you've neve stopped loving, not really.

Derek pressed send.

A/N: Thoughts? Suggestions? Updated quickly enough for you? I'm thinking we'll do Thanksgiving next, what do you lot think? Also, sorry for the length. Next chapter should be longer!