February 8, 2010

"Mer! Mer!" Derek calls after his fiancée, but she isn't talking to him, again, and he's getting fed up. Technically, he did nothing wrong, technically, pouring his soul out to his ex-wife in letters doesn't leave any vows unsanctified, at least as far as he knows. Technically.

It's immature and he's growing weary of the constant fights, the underhanded tricks and unspoken words. He's done that, he's been an intern and a resident, he's been petty and screwed people over but now he's done. He wants to hold a child or three in his arms, wants to come home to stability and not insecurity. He's tired of having to prove himself to Meredith because all Addison asked was that he love her and stay with her 'til death do them part.

Not that he was able to uphold those most simple vows, in the long run, but he hopes that his mistakes have taught him to value what's in his life. Conflict isn't necessarily his thing but Meredith seems to thrive on it.

Giving up, he checks on a sixteen-year-old patient, post-op after the successful removal of a brain tumor, and Mrs. Nicolas, whose craniotomy had been a nightmare the night before. Last, he visits Mr. Atherton's room. Weeding his memories of Phoebe from his decaying mind hasn't been easy, but Derek feels an inexplicable draw to the story.

"Met your fiancé earlier today," Edward tells Derek as he shines a light in his eyes and glances at his impossible CTs. He doesn't know how to fix the old man, who furthermore doesn't want to be fixed, but he can't let go, not yet.

"Oh, yeah, Meredith's interested in neuro," Derek says neutrally. "She's also not talking to me."

"Well, why the hell not? If you're gonna marry her, do it right."

"She's not speaking to me because … because she found out about the letters I've been sending to my ex-wife," Derek states slowly, unsure why he's telling this ancient relic of WWII.

"Your …"

"Yep."

"Well, letters are the way to win a woman's heart. You just need to decide whose heart you want to win," Edward says wisely, pointing one gnarled finger at Derek.

"Alright, Mr. Atherton, thank you, but I think we should discuss your surgery now."

The question posed by his patient causes him unforeseeable confusion, but it doesn't stop him from penning a new letter to Addison the first chance he gets.

Dear Addison,

Believe me, I was just as embarrassed as you about the discovery of our old … uh … stuff. I didn't offer it out by any means, but Izzie asked and I was so flustered that I guess I agreed. Next time you pack a box like that, though, you might want to label it a bit more clearly.

By the time you get back you'll probably be angry at me about something else anyway, so no use reminding you. And you've threatened to kill me more times than I can count, so I don't think another time is going to make much of a difference.

Callie is more likely to stab Arizona at this point than me. They broke up a week ago. I don't know exactly why, but they've been having problems for a long time. Mark says to tell you he's taking care of her as best as he can.

What I've been trying to tell you, Addison, is that I don't know how to leave it all behind. I'll try, if that's what you really want, but I simply don't know how. I guess people do this all the time when they break up, I just don't understand why it's so hard for me. Maybe because I suppressed all memories of you for so long that now I'm paying for it.

You don't need to remind me that I slept with Meredith. I know that, okay? I'm reminded of it every time I wake up to blonde hair instead of red. And I've tried to let you go, Addison, but does letting you go mean we can't be friends? What was the point of it all, then?

You're not going to die alone. I promise.

You should know that Meredith found your last letter. I didn't mean for her to, but she did, and now, well, you know how Seattle Grace is. I'm sorry. The gossip will die down at some point, but I'm already sick of it. Plus Meredith isn't speaking to me, except when she has to.

I know we were messed up, and I know before Mark it was my fault – all my fault. But why, after you slept with him, did you beg me to stay if you were just going to leave me? Why did you come after me and endure my indifference, as you called it, if you were going to leave first? Does that mean we were doomed from the beginning?

I'm glad you had a good, albeit unusual, Christmas. Mark says he doesn't appreciate the idiot comment, although he did tell Karev that it was him you called an idiot. He's still in neonatal, by the way, and said to tell you he delivered conjoined twins earlier this week, all by himself. I can't believe it sometimes. How the hell did you turn Alex Karev into a neonatal surgeon?

I don't think I've stopped falling. Not since I left you. Everything has happened so quickly and I haven't had the time to get back up, so I don't know how you do it. I'm sorry for everything that happened between us.

Derek

P.S. Happy Valentine's Day

P.P.S. You don't regret it? Because no offense, Addison, but refusing to talk about it doesn't exactly scream no regrets.

"Okay, seriously, what is wrong with you, Addison? You've been strange and distant for the last month." Naomi's voice is lightly accusatory and Addison glances at her bare feet guiltily, studying the sand between the bright red toenails instead of answering her friend. She painted all the girls' toenails last night and used the last of her favorite nail polish, but she has learned over the past five months that there are more important things than Fifth Avenue Red #5.

"Nothing's wrong, Nae," Addison claims as she hands a plastic bowl of sliced cantaloupe, bananas, and strawberries to the next child in line. Addison watches as the vivid fruits are practically inhaled by the starving girl before looking at Naomi.

"Don't lie to me, Addison."

The thing is, she is lying. The fantasy she'd had about Derek three weeks ago has been eating at her; somehow happiness in the hands of someone else can become poisonous. Not to mention the other secret she holds close to her heart. Or the fact that she's thinking of not returning to LA at the end of the month, but instead staying in the barren desert to deliver babies sans glamour.

"Is this about Derek?" Naomi prompts when Addison's lips do not pour fourth enlightenment.

"Isn't everything, to me?" Addison laughs bitterly. Sleeping with Mark, moving to LA, wanting a baby, leaving Noah, it was all about Derek, in the end. His power to influence her life has not faded, instead he acts as a guiding presence, memories of him offering guilt or reason or encouragement when needed.

"What does that mean?"

"He's everywhere, Nae, okay? You might not know what it's like, because divorced or not, Sam has always been there for you. But Derek? He's here in all the wrong ways. I can't hang a freaking ornament without thinking of him, and I can't kiss a guy without comparing him to Derek, and I can't even have a freaking sex dream about anyone else!"

"Addison!" Naomi chastises, and she bites her lip, remembering the innocent children surrounding them. She rests her hand on the head of a small boy at her side and then quickly scoops some of the juicy, melting fruit into the next bowl. Hunger being the prevalent emotion in most of the gathered kids (she has learned that hunger can in fact be an emotion, a consuming, greedy, desperate one), they don't notice her slip up.

"You had a sex dream about Derek?" Naomi mutters a few minutes later.

"Well we didn't exactly get to the sex part," Addison mumbles, "but yeah, basically."

"Maybe you should -"

"Don't say talk to Violet. Please. I talk to Violet as a friend, and I enjoy her company, but I don't want her going all psycho-babble on me."

"You've been divorced for nearly four years, Addison. You haven't been in another real, healthy relationship, much less dated for more than a month or two at a time. And then there's -"

"Don't -!"

"I know, I know, don't say it," Naomi rolls her eyes. "But seriously, no wonder you can't let go of him."