Broken Promises for Broken Hearts
The title for this story is taken from the song "Broken
Promises for Broken Hearts" by GW Childs.
The title for this chapter is taken from the song "One Night is Not Enough" by Snow Patrol.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I'd do all sorts of inappropriate things to them. Particularly to one Patrick Dempsey. Sadly, they are not.
Chapter 10: One Night is Not Enough
"So I'll see you on Saturday?" Addison asked, hoisting her strap of her carry-on up her shoulder and pushing her sunglasses on top of her head.
"Yep," Derek replied, pulling her wheeled suitcase out of the trunk and extending its handle. "I'll pick you up at the baggage claim." He slammed the trunk closed and pulled the keys from the lock, spinning the keychain on his finger and stuffing his other hand into the pocket of his jeans. "You sure you don't want me to come in with you?"
His wife shook her head and nodded toward the clear blue sky above them. "This is probably one of five days out of the year that it's pretty much guaranteed my flight won't be delayed. Go. Your shift starts in half an hour. I'll call you when I get in to JFK."
He nodded. "OK." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Safe trip."
"Thanks." She watched him walk around the car and sink into the driver's seat. She stepped back from the curb as he started the engine and watched as he put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. She grabbed her suitcase handle and wheeled it into the airport behind her, pushing away the vague sense of disappointment at the fact that he hadn't turned around or waved before driving off.
---
"Dr. Shepherd, where's Addison? I've got a woman at 31 weeks with twins who may be going into early labor."
Derek lifted his gaze from the case study he was reading on the computer monitor to see Miranda Bailey gazing at him over the counter. "Her old practice in New York called last night to see if she would fly in for an emergency consult. She took off an hour ago."
Bailey's eyes narrowed. "What, them fancy doctors in New York can't find a neonatal surgeon on their own coast to do a consult?"
Derek shrugged. "Well, the consult will probably end up being a surgery. And they wanted the best."
"Of course they did." She sighed and turned away, mumbling under her breath.
Derek returned his gaze to the screen, found what he was looking for, and swiveled around in the desk chair to see Meredith standing on the opposite side of the counter, filing a chart. "Hey," he offered after a moment.
She turned to face him. "Hey."
"How you feeling today?"
"Great. Much better."
He nodded. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."
She nodded in return and toyed with her fingers – a nervous habit that told her she'd never make a decent poker player. She cleared her throat. "Oh, I uh, don't think I said thank you yesterday. For… well, you know. Saving me." She felt the heat creep up her neck and silently cursed herself, embarrassed at the cliché of her words.
He smiled, opting not to increase her embarrassment by pointing out the flush in her face. "You don't have to thank me. Besides, if I had been quicker to answer my page, you might not have needed help in the first place."
She dismissed his culpability with a quick shake of her head. "It's OK. Call it even?"
He nodded. "Deal."
He watched her walk away, wondering how many more times he could apologize for causing her pain before she would stop listening.
---
Derek stared across the street at the lights glowing in the windows of Joe's bar. He ran his thumb over the worn leather of his briefcase handle and weighed his options. He could go home to an empty trailer, which was only slightly better than going home to a trailer he was sharing with his so-called wife, or he could walk across the street and into the bar, where he knew Meredith would be unwinding with her friends. He had overheard the interns making plans to meet up after their shift, and while he always felt slightly guilty at Meredith's obvious unease whenever he was near, it was overshadowed by his simple desire to be near her. Even if being near each other was nothing more than awkward, it came nowhere near the awkwardness that had grown between Addison and him. And, frankly, the awkwardness with Meredith was tinged with something that made it worth it. He pulled his coat closed around his neck and headed toward the bar.
---
Meredith launched the dart and winced as it landed in the wall about four inches from the dartboard.
"Thank God you're better with a scalpel than you are with a dart," Cristina snickered, stepping up to the line and throwing her own dart, smiling in smug satisfaction as it landed mere millimeters from the center of the board. She turned to Meredith. "Your round. I'll take a Jack and Coke."
Meredith rolled her eyes and headed toward the bar, hesitating when she saw Derek sitting on a stool, watching her approach. She attempted to maintain a steady pace as she neared him, silently cursing the fact that the only opening that wasn't next to him was on the complete opposite side of the bar. Unless she wanted to make it obvious that she was trying to avoid him, she would have to place her order in the vacant space beside him.
"Looks like she beat you pretty soundly," he offered by way of a greeting as she leaned against the bar at his side.
She shrugged. "Darts never was my game," she replied as she tried to catch Joe's eye.
He finished what was left in his glass and returned it to the bar top. "Try flicking your wrist," he suggested, holding up a hand to get Joe's attention. The bartender approached him, his eyebrows raised in question. "One more, and whatever she wants," Derek said.
"Oh, no, it's OK. I owe Cristina a drink – we kind of bet on the game."
"OK." Derek turned back to Joe. "One more and whatever she and Dr. Yang want," he amended.
"You don't have to—"
"You know, usually when I buy a woman a drink, she says 'thank you,'" he interrupted as he faced her, his lips curving into a hint of a smile.
"Oh? And how many women have you been buying drinks for lately? Besides your wife, I mean."
The smile vanished from his face as he faced forward once again, accepting the glass that Joe slid across the bar. "Not many," he replied, raising the replenished glass to his lips.
Meredith sighed as she took the vacant stool beside him. "Sorry."
"No, you have a point."
"Well, maybe. But still."
"What'll it be, Dr. Grey?"
"Shot of Jose and a Jack and Coke," she replied, grateful for his interruption. He nodded and set about filling her order. "So… flicking my wrist?"
Derek met her gaze for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Flick your wrist when you release it. It'll fly straighter."
"OK. I'll give that a try." She paused, fiddling with the cocktail napkin in front of her. "So you play darts?"
He shrugged. "One of my roommates in college was English, spent a lot of time in pubs as a kid. He taught me how to play." The small smile returned to his face. "Won more than our share of drinks during those years."
This time she offered a smile in return. "Yeah, I'll bet." She took the drinks Joe slid across the bar and rose from her stool. She paused momentarily before extending an invitation. "Want to show me this technique of yours? Cristina's really kicking my ass."
He studied her for a moment before nodding, grabbing his glass, and following her toward the dartboard.
---
"Dammit!" Cristina pounded her fist on the tabletop as Derek and Meredith high-fived.
"Cristina, it's just a game," Burke soothed as she glared at the gloating pair.
She grumbled as she plopped into the chair, draining what was left of her Jack and Coke, glaring at Meredith and Derek, who joined her at the table. Meredith eyed her, amused, as she sipped the Tequila Sunrise she was using as a chaser for the shots that had resulted from dartboard betting. The two women gazed at each other in silence for a few moments before Cristina rolled her eyes. "Fine. My turn. Orders?"
Meredith held up a finger. "Jose." She pointed at Derek and held up another. "Double scotch, single malt."
"How retro," Cristina sneered, leaving the table and heading for the bar.
Burke suppressed a smile as he leaned down to retrieve his wallet from the pocket of his coat, which was draped over the back of a chair. Meredith smiled in approval as he nodded toward Cristina, who was sulking as she tried to catch Joe's eye. He left the pair alone at the table, hoping that paying for Cristina's round of drinks would ease the sting of defeat.
"Will you watch my drink?" Meredith asked after a moment of silence. "I need to pee."
Derek nodded and raised the glass to his nose, sniffing before making a face and returning it to the tabletop. "I should have known."
She frowned as she unhooked her purse from the back of her chair. "What?"
"Tequila," he replied. "I never understood how someone with your frame could spend an evening downing shots – and apparently mixed drinks – of Jose Cuervo and still function."
She shrugged, rising. "You build up a tolerance. I'll be right back."
He nodded and took a sip of his own drink, leaning back in the chair as she made her way toward the back of the bar.
---
She gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It never ceased to amaze her how you could feel totally sober in the bar, but as soon as you entered a bathroom and tried to adjust to the fluorescent lighting, the edges of things tended to go slightly fuzzy. In college it had been her litmus test; she would periodically go to the bathroom to gauge just how drunk she was getting. Tonight's test told her she was approaching a nice buzz, but that slowing down now would ward off any serious hangover. Or worse, serious embarrassment. She ran her hands through her hair and rummaged in her purse, hoping that a wayward tube of lip gloss might be lurking in its depths. She sighed when all she uncovered were a few loose coins, a hair tie, and a slightly fuzzy Life Saver, minus its wrapper. She glanced at her reflection once more, pinched her pallid cheeks to bring some color to her skin, and pulled open the bathroom door. She stepped out of the bathroom and froze as the door slammed shut behind her. There, leaning against the opposite wall, was Derek. She glanced at the closed door to the men's room and then nodded toward the door behind her. "You could just use the ladies' one." She offered what she hoped was a friendly smile. "I won't tell anyone." He nodded and returned the smile. He said nothing, but she noted that he made no move to enter the women's restroom. She grew uncomfortable under his gaze and her eyes narrowed in question. "What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing." He inclined his chin in the direction of the door behind her. "So it'll be our little secret."
"Our little secret," she repeated, turning away from him and maneuvering her way back to the table.
---
"This… this is ric—red—this is stupid," Cristina waved her hand at the dartboard and at the multitude of glasses that now covered the tabletop. She frowned as she tried to manipulate the words on her tongue, which was growing heavier and less cooperative as the night wore on.
"What?" Meredith finished what was left of her drink and added the empty glass to the collection.
"You can't play dartboards when you're drunk." She hiccupped, as if to prove her point.
After a moment's contemplation, Meredith nodded at her friend's sage advice. "Yep. You're right." She turned to Derek, who eyed her in amusement. "She's right. You can't play dartboards when you're drunk." Derek nodded in silent agreement and Meredith turned to Burke. "She's really smart." Burke mirrored Derek's nod. "No, really. She's really, really smart." She paused, as if a sudden realization had struck her. "Like a doctor! We're all doctors! 'Cause we're all SMART!" She punctuated this declaration by grabbing her empty glass and clinking it against Derek's half-full one. "Here's to the smart, smart doctors!"
"Cheers!" Cristina half-yelled, slamming her glass into Meredith's so hard that the men silently marveled at the fact that the glasses hadn't smashed in their hands.
"OK, I think that's enough 'cheers' for us for the evening," Burke said, extricating the glass from Cristina's hands. She turned to face him, debating whether or not to argue, before smiling and leaning her head against his shoulder and running her finger up his chest. "Let's go… we'll get a cab," he said, stilling her wandering fingers.
Cristina straightened suddenly and pointed toward Meredith. "Wait! Meredith needs a ride, too."
"I got it," Derek said, glancing at Meredith.
Cristina's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, right, McDeem— Mc—" She frowned. "Whatever." She jabbed a finger in his direction. "You're not allowed." Derek raised his eyebrows and glanced at Burke, who took hold of Cristina's arm and attempted to guide her out of her chair. "No! He can't! I haven't chopped his penis off yet!"
Burke dropped her arm and stared at her, mouth open slightly, before switching his focus to Derek, who waved his hand and shook his head. Burke nodded and took Cristina's arm again, guiding her toward the door. She pulled away once more and leaned in toward Meredith, her face mere inches from her friend's nose. "Juss say NO," she whispered. "NO," she repeated, louder, straightening and jabbing a finger in Derek's face.
He held up his hands to convey his innocence and smiled as Burke escorted Cristina out of the bar. He turned to face Meredith, who was gazing at their retreating backs, a small smile on her lips. "I take it back," he said, smiling as she turned to face him.
"What?"
"What I said about you and Jose," he replied, gesturing toward the empty glasses on the table. "You don't hold your liquor as well as I thought."
"Yeah, well—" She pointed at his glass. "You've been nursing that for like a half an hour." She stopped and giggled to herself. "Nursing. You're a nurse."
"Your point?"
She shrugged. "Juss sayin'."
He chuckled. "OK. Let's get you home." He rose, her coat in his hands, and made a move to help her into it. She rose, swaying only slightly, and faced him for a moment before taking her coat from his hands.
"I can do it," she said, shrugging into the coat and pulling her hair from its collar.
He nodded. "OK," he said, placing a hand on the small of her back and guiding her out of the bar and into the cold.
---
Derek stood beside his car, holding the passenger door open for Meredith, who stood a few feet away.
She gazed at him, standing by the open door, and she was hit by a memory: Derek opening the door for her after she had waited in the rain with a bottle of wine and invited him to watch the sun rise over the ferry boats. The sudden memory and its vividness brought a minor amount of clarity to her booze-addled brain, and she reconsidered for a moment.
He noted her hesitation. "C'mon. You can leave your car here and get a ride with George or Izzie in the morning."
She said nothing and stood in the cold for a few more moments before approaching him and sliding into the passenger seat. She pulled her coat inside as he gently slammed the door shut and walked around the car. She leaned across to open his door for him the way she always had, but caught herself at the last minute and leaned back against the cool leather of her headrest. If he noticed, he said nothing as he opened the door and slid into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition.
"Home, James," she murmured as her eyes fell closed and she prayed that the combination of liquor and motion wouldn't turn her stomach.
He glanced at her. "Home," he echoed softly, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the hospital parking lot.
---
"Meredith. Meredith, we're here." She was dimly aware of him brushing her hair off her face as he unbuckled her seat belt and gently lifted her ankles and swiveled her in the seat so that her feet met the concrete of the driveway. "Mer."
She opened her eyes, relieved that the 20-minute drive from the hospital and her nap had taken the edge off her buzz somewhat. She looked up to where he stood, holding his hand out to her. She took it, pulling the lapels of her coat around her frame as she rose from the car, making every effort not to sway. He slammed the door closed behind her and guided her up the driveway and up the porch steps, where he reached out and opened the front door, smiling to himself at the realization that they still didn't lock the door until all three of them were home. Not that it had anything to do with him, but he was thankful that there were things that hadn't changed.
He nudged the door open as he guided Meredith inside, closing it behind them and taking hold of her coat to help her out of it. There was a question in her eyes as he moved to stand in front of her, but she opted not to voice it as he took hold of her elbow and guided her to the kitchen.
"Where are we going?"
"We need to get something in your stomach," he replied.
She shook her head. "Derek, honestly, I just want to go to bed. And you shouldn't even be here." She paused before speaking again, her voice slightly harder. "I'm sure Addison will be wondering where you are."
"Addison's out of town. And you need some coffee and something to eat." He guided her to a chair at the kitchen table and started the coffee pot before going to the fridge and surveying its contents. "Wow. You guys don't exactly have a stocked fridge." She shrugged as he grabbed the milk and turned and surveyed the counters. "You do, however, have an extraordinary amount of baked goods."
She shrugged again. "Izzie's an emotional baker. Or something."
He nodded and grabbed a muffin from beneath a layer of saran wrap and placed it on the table in front of her. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured the coffee, adding milk and placing it beside the snack before sinking into the chair beside her.
She sighed. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I'm planning on asking you to scrub in on a bilateral cingulotomy tomorrow, and I don't want you hung over. So get to it."
Meredith fell silent and sipped the coffee, wrapping her hands around the mug to warm them. "So where is she?"
He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his temple on his fist, watching her pick at the muffin. "New York." He noted the way she tensed slightly and added, "On a consult. She'll be back this weekend."
She nodded and tried to swallow around the chunk of baked goods that suddenly tasted more like cardboard than an Izzie Stevens delicacy. For a split second, the mention of New York brought flashes of divorce papers and Derek back in her arms, but his clarification erased them as quickly as they had come. She pushed the muffin away and took another sip of the coffee, realizing as she swallowed that he had remembered how much milk she liked, and the fact that she never took sugar. She met his eyes, trying not to feel anything at the small, familiar smile that played on his lips. How many times had they sat in this kitchen, drinking coffee and snacking, talking about everything and nothing? How many times had she focused on a newspaper, or a textbook, or something other than his face? How many of those small smiles had she missed? She cleared her throat and moved her gaze from his face to the steaming mug.
"So is that why you're here? Because your wife is in New York, and might be hanging out with your ex-best friend?" She was immediately sorry for the words, although the resentment helped her reestablish a distance between them. The buffer space that she so desperately needed.
She could hear in his voice that the smile was gone. "No."
"Then why?" she challenged, taking a small sip.
He was silent for so long she wondered if he was going to answer her at all. She chanced a glance at his face. "It wasn't enough," he said, his voice little more than an apologetic sigh.
"What?" she asked, feigning confusion.
"New Year's. I told you – it didn't work. It wasn't enough."
"So… what? You drove me home hoping to get lucky?"
He sighed. "No."
"Then what?"
He was silent for a moment before he shrugged. "I don't know."
It was her turn to sigh. "Derek, I know. I get it. You said it all. You're trying to make your marriage work, trying to be the good guy." She paused, and tried to make her voice gentle. "But you're trying to be the good guy to her." He met her gaze and frowned, confusion in his clear blue eyes. She sighed. "You can only really be the 'good guy' to one of us, because by definition, being the 'good guy' means not hurting someone. When you made your choice, you chose who you were going to be the 'good guy' for. And it was her. Not me."
"I'm sorry," he said, and her chest tightened at the dejected tone of his voice. He dragged his eyes up to meet hers, at once pleading and apologizing. "I don't know what to say. I don't have any answers. I don't have anything more to give you than I had last time. I just—I just need you." She remained silent, wanting him to stop almost as much as she wanted him to keep talking. "I don't know anything else. I just – need you. I miss you. I miss just being around you. It's not about the sex, it's just about – us. I miss us. I miss what we had. Don't you?"
"Of course I do," she replied, her voice neutral. "But I'm not the one who chose something else. Someone else."
"I'm sorry. I know you're probably sick of hearing it, but I am. I'm sorry that I wasn't totally honest with you. I'm sorry that she showed up here. I'm sorry that I opted to work on my marriage. But most of all…" He faltered, searching her face for some indication that his words were going in. "Most of all, I'm sorry that she's not enough. I'm sorry that one night with you… one night will never be enough. And the nights we had before she came will never be enough, either."
Meredith felt her throat tighten, knowing that she was in dangerous territory. She met his eyes, blue meeting blue, a question in hers and no answers in his. She shook her head, almost imperceptibly, as she raked her teeth across her bottom lip. "This isn't going to make things any easier," she whispered.
"But they can't get much harder," he replied, leaning in toward her. His lips met hers, at first tentative and then more boldly when she didn't pull away. He opened his mouth slightly, lifting his hands to cradle her head as she sighed into his kiss. She let it continue for a few moments before she brought her hands up between them and gently pushed him away.
"Mer—" She looked at his face, her chest tightening at the mix of uncertainty and vulnerability painted across his features.
She weighed the possibilities in her mind for a moment before a small smile curved her lips. "Now who's taking advantage?"
He met her smile, relief plainly displayed on his face as he captured her lips with none of the earlier hesitation and deepened the kiss, running the tip of his tongue along her lips. She opened her mouth, granting him access as she pushed all thoughts of Addison, New Year's resolutions, and divorce papers from her mind. After all, with all the promises she had broken to herself, and all the promises that had been broken between them, what was one more?
She sighed as he ran kisses down the side of her neck.
One more kiss, one more night, one more broken promise. But from now on, she would be the one doing the breaking.
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