A/N: Hi all! I'm back, with more angst for you. But at this point, would you expect anything less? Anyway, I never get tired of saying this, but thanks to all of my reviewers. You guys just … are amazing. Really.
So enjoy!!
Chapter 11
Looking around, it occurred to Derek that the situation he suddenly found himself in was one that most people would not consider to be entirely appropriate. In fact, if circumstances had been much, much different, he would definitely not have considered it appropriate either. After all, here he was, sitting fully clothed in a shower of a hotel with Addison, his ex-wife, naked in his arms, except for the plastic-bag-covered cast on her left arm.
But then Derek also knew that at this moment appropriate didn't really matter. What mattered was Addison and making sure she felt safe and secure.
He wasn't at all sure that she felt anything even remotely close to that, but she was letting him hold her, and letting him see her cry, so that was something.
Derek had always felt really conflicted every time he had seen Addison cry, from the time they were dating to the time their marriage fell apart, and this was no different. Mostly, he knew, it was because Addison didn't cry. At least not in front of people. She always wanted to be so strong and so independent and so tough. She always wanted everyone to think that she was so in control. She never wanted to let them see that she was actually really vulnerable or insecure or even that she could actually be hurt.
He had use to hate that, thinking she didn't trust him enough to let him help her when things were bad, that she maybe didn't trust him to take care of her. But then there were the moments that she did let him in, that she did confide in him, and those were the moments that usually ended up breaking his heart even more, because somehow he never could figure out quite how to help her.
Right now was one of those moments. He wanted her to trust him, he wanted her to talk to him, but he was terrified that she would, because he had no idea what to do next. So instead he just held her, trying desperately to think of the next step he should make.
He wanted to at least take his jeans off – the rational part of his brain told him if he got all his clothes any wetter than they were already that he would have nothing else to wear – but he was afraid to let go of her. He thought if he made the wrong move, she might realize exactly what was going on and retreat into her shell that she so often built up around herself.
So instead he settled for inching them both forward until, making sure he was holding her tightly enough against him that she wouldn't slip, he could lift himself up enough to grab the faucet and turn it back on.
A blast of hot water hit him directly in the face, and he spluttered, instinctively cupping a hand over Addison's face so the water wouldn't hit her.
"Hotter!" He heard her whisper against his chest. She reached up to try and bat Derek's hand away from her face.
Derek shifted them both so the water was hitting the back of her head instead. She seemed okay with that as he felt her relax once more against him.
Looking around again he saw a bottle lying just outside the shower door, which was still wide open; water was spraying everywhere.
Derek ignored that – he could clean water up later – and instead leaned over as far as he could. Instantly, Addison's hand was gripping him ever tighter than before. He could feel her nails digging through his shirt into his chest, but he kept going, leaning forward until he managed to get his fingers around the bottle and pull it toward him.
He squinted at the label. It was a bottle of vanilla-scented bath gel, not shampoo, but he figured for now it was good enough.
He squeezed out a decent amount on to his hands, then reached up to run his fingers and the soap through Addison's hair. Even with the water, her hair was still knotty, and he was afraid to hurt her so he went as slowly and carefully as he could.
"Harder!" Addison's face was nestled in his chest, and he could barely hear her over the sound of the water. Her one hand was still gripping his shirt, and her knuckles were white. He was careful to keep his hands strictly in her hair and on her back, no where else, so she wouldn't be scared. Plus, he knew she was sore from her bruises and other injuries, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her more.
"Harder!" he heard her say, this time louder. "Derek, please!"
"Addie …" he started.
"Please!" She lifted her head off of his chest and stared at him. She was crying again, and she looked terrified. "Please!"
"Okay, okay," he said, as she choked on a sob. He rubbed his hands through her hair a little harder, watching as the blood-tinted water rushed down his fingers, down to the bottom of the shower, where it swirled a little before disappearing forever down the drain.
"Harder!" She cried again. "It's not hard enough! It's not coming off!"
"Addie. It is coming off."
"It's not!"
"Yes, it is, Addie. Yes, it is."
He turned them both around then, maneuvering her so she could see the blood washing down the drain.
"See?" He pointed. "It is."
"But it doesn't … it doesn't feel like it." Addison choked on another sob, and a fresh round of tears dripped down her cheeks, mixing with the water from the shower.
"I know it doesn't," he told her gently. "But it is, Addie. It really is."
She looked unconvinced as Derek resumed running his soap-coated hands through her hair.
Then he had an idea. He picked up the bottle of body wash again and, with Addison watching, squeezed another gigantic portion into his hands, one that was at least four times the size of what would normally be needed, then rubbed it into her hair. This he repeated over and over, never stopping what he was doing until he felt Addison softly tug on his shirt.
"Will you get the rest off?" she asked when he looked down at her.
"Of course," he said.
There was a wash cloth on the floor of the shower, the only object Addison hadn't managed to throw out, and Derek picked it up, carefully coating it with as much soap as possible as Addison watched. Slowly, he began rubbing her back with it. He repeated this process time and again, scrubbing her back, her arms, her legs.
He covered it with soap once more and handed it to her when it was time to wash her chest. He didn't want to touch her anywhere that might make her feel even a little uncomfortable.
"It's okay," he told her when she hesitated. "I won't watch."
And he didn't. He stared at the water beating down on them, his arms loosely around her back, as he felt her fidget in his lap. She let out an occasional cry, and Derek didn't know whether it was from frustration or pain – Bailey had given her medication for her fractured ribs before they'd left the hospital but Derek knew they were still really tender and must hurt a lot – but he didn't let himself look at her.
Instead he just whispered, "You're doing really good, Addie," and waited until he felt her resume her scrubbing.
Finally she was still, her body resting heavily against his.
"Is it off?" he heard her ask, and Derek took that as his sign to look down at her. She was watching him, her face red from the steam and the water, and she looked exhausted. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, and he found himself hoping that maybe she might be able to get some rest after all.
"It's off."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"It doesn't feel off."
"It is off, Addie."
"Why doesn't it feel off then?"
"I don't know, honey, I don't know. But it is off. I promise."
With that, Derek reached up again toward the faucet and carefully turned it off. The second the water had died Addison was crying again. Derek could feel her suddenly shivering against him.
Not wanting to wait any longer, Derek shifted his arms, placing one securely behind her back and the other beneath her knees that were still draped over his leg.
He managed to lift her up enough so he could pull himself to his knees. Once there, he was able to lift her in his arms and stand.
Addison let out a cry when he finally got to his feet, and he knew she had realized that he had picked her up. The idea that she was not in control of her movements scared her, and she jerked in his arms.
"Addie! It's okay!" Quickly Derek set her legs down so she was standing. The second she was on her feet she yanked herself out of his arms, backing up so fast she hit the faucet and let out another cry.
Instantly, her arms were wrapped around her chest and she was falling to her knees, her cries getting louder and harder.
Derek grabbed for the nearest towel he could find and quickly held it out to her.
"Addie," he said gently. He had no idea if she could hear him over her cries. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
He inched a tiny bit closer so the towel was touching her. "Here you go. I'm so sorry, Addie. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.
"I'm so sorry."
It took awhile, but finally she lifted her tear-streaked face up and very cautiously reached for the towel. As soon as she took it, Derek stepped back. He needed to find a towel of his own.
He turned his head to scan the bathroom.
"Don't leave me!"
He whipped back around. Addison was clutching the towel he had just given her, her eyes wide.
"I'm not leaving you, Addie. I just …" Derek trailed off. He had no idea what to do or even the slightest clue how to handle Addison's shift in moods. One second she wanted to be in his arms, the next she was scared of him, then the next she was worried he was leaving her.
She seemed to understand that Derek was confused. She dropped her eyes and stared at the towel.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispered. "Don't hate me."
Derek felt a pang of guilt in his heart.
"I don't hate you, Addie," he said gently. "I just want to help you. … I want you to let me help you."
"You don't hate me?"
"I don't hate you. I want to help you."
"Okay." She nodded. She lifted the towel closer to her, so it was covering her chest.
"I need clothes," she whispered. "Can you get me clothes?"
Derek nodded. "Of course I can."
Addison's pajamas were just where Derek expected them to be. Right side of the dresser, second drawer down, the same place she had kept them for the eleven years they were married. He pulled out a long-sleeve red top and a pair of red bottoms that were dotted with little white stars.
Derek figured she probably wanted underwear. Not stopping to think about how he shouldn't be digging through Addison's undergarments, he pulled open the top right drawer, knowing he would find them there.
His mouth fell open a little as the drawer opened. He had been right about the underwear, but what he hadn't expected was the ratty gray t-shirt that lay mixed in with them. A ratty gray t-shirt that belonged to him. A ratty gray t-shirt that he had often found Addison sleeping in when they were married and he had gotten home late more times than he could count.
He stared at it. She had kept it. What did that mean?
"Derek? Where are you?"
Addison's tremulous voice broke through the air, and Derek's head snapped up.
"I'm coming, Addie," he called, quickly stuffing the t-shirt back in the drawer and grabbing a pair of underwear for her.
She was standing by the sink, wrapped in her towel, when he walked back in the bathroom, careful this time not to slip on any bottles that were scattered every which way. Water was everywhere. It almost looked like a flood had hit.
He handed Addison her clothes.
"Do you need any help?"
As expected, Addison shook her head.
"Okay," Derek said. "Well, why don't you get dressed out by the bed? It's really wet in here. I don't want you to fall. I'll clean up in here, okay?"
Derek waited until Addison nodded, then he reached for her elbow. She shuffled the clothes in to her good arm and let Derek lead her out of the bathroom and back over to the bed.
"Let's get this off you first." Derek pointed to her cast, safely ensconced in its little bag. Addison obediently held her arm out, and Derek removed the hair band, then slid the wet plastic bag off her arm.
"I'll be right in there if you need me," he told her, before heading back to the bathroom.
Sighing, Derek grabbed some towels and began sopping up water. His jeans were stuck to his legs and his shirt was stuck to his chest. He was in the middle of contemplating whether it would be appropriate to take them off when he heard Addison calling him.
He raced back into the room. Addison was sitting on the bed. Her pajama bottoms were on, but her shirt was twisted. She had her good arm in one sleeve, but it appeared to be inside out.
"It won't go on." She looked defeated.
Derek moved quickly toward her. She held out her arms and, carefully, he slid the shirt off of her, making a pointed effort to keep his eyes solely on her face and not anywhere else on her body, straightened it out, then helped her slide it on correctly this time.
"Are you hungry?" he asked her once she was dressed.
Addison shook her head.
"Are you tired?"
Addison bit her lip. "I don't want to sleep." She stared at her hands when she said this, as though embarrassed to let Derek hear her confession.
He squatted down so he could look up into her lowered eyes.
"Why not, Addie?"
"I'm scared."
"What are you scared of, Addie? Talk to me, honey," he said, when she kept chewing on her lip.
"What if I dream about it?" She looked directly at him, and her eyes shone with tears. Instantly, Derek put his hands on her knees.
"Whatever happens, Addie, I'm right here, okay? I'm going to take care of you. No one's going to hurt you."
"But I'm scared."
"I know you are. But I'm right here." He tried to smile at her. "I think you should try to get some sleep. Bailey gave us pills that will help you. Is that okay?"
"What if I don't want to?"
"I think you should."
"But what if I don't want to?"
"How's this?" Derek reached one hand up to grab her good one, squeezing her fingers in his. "Why don't you take the sleeping pill and lay down for a little while, and we'll see what happens, okay? I'll be right here the whole time."
"You will?"
He nodded. "I will."
He squeezed her hand again. "I promise. I'll be right here when you fall asleep, and I'll be right here when you wake up. I won't go anywhere, and I won't let anyone hurt you."
"Will you wake me up if I have a bad dream?" she asked softly.
"I will wake you up if you have a bad dream."
Derek waited. He saw her hesitate, and then Addison nodded. Derek let go of her and stood up. He took a couple of steps to the top of the bed and began to pull back the covers. When he was ready, he turned back to Addison.
She scooted up the side of the bed and let Derek help her get in. He pulled the covers up over her and made sure she was tucked in completely.
"Let me go get you your pills," he told her.
"Can I have the pain ones, too?" she asked. "My stomach hurts." Instinctively, she rubbed her hand over her bruised ribs.
Derek reached out to stroke her hair. It was still soaking wet, but he figured drying her hair was the least of their worries at the moment.
"It's not time yet, Addie. Soon though."
She didn't answer, sighing deeply instead.
Quickly, Derek made his way to the table by the door where he had put down the pills Bailey had given him. He took two of them out, then opened the little refrigerator. As expected, there were a couple of bottles of water inside. He pulled one out, and grabbing a glass from the dresser just next to it, poured some water into it.
Addison took the glass and the pills he handed her without question. He waited while she swallowed them and handed him back her glass.
"Good girl," he said softly. "Now try and get some sleep."
Derek turned to re-enter the bathroom, but no sooner had he turned away then Addison called him back.
"Derek?" She sounded panicked.
He whirled around. "Addie?"
"Don't leave me!"
"I'm not leaving you. I'm just going to clean up."
"But I want you here!"
"Addie, I'm not going anywhere."
"But can't you just lie here?" Addison reached her good arm up and pointed to the bed next to her. Her eyes were pleading. "Please?"
"Addie, I'm all wet."
"Please?"
Derek didn't have the heart to argue with her.
"Give me one second."
In the bathroom, Derek found a couple of unused and unwet towels. Quickly, he stripped out of all his wet clothes except for his boxers and wrapped himself in the towel. Making his way back into the room, he found Addison lying exactly as he had left her, watching for him wide-eyed.
He edged on to the bed beside her, careful to remain a safe distance away. He tried not to think of what Meredith might say if she knew what he was doing.
But a moment later, Derek discovered it didn't really matter to him what Meredith would have said because the second Addison saw that he had made himself comfortable, she let out a breath and he saw her visibly relax.
"Close your eyes, Addie," he said softly, but she didn't. She just kept watching him, almost as though she were waiting for something.
Derek watched her in return. Her breaths were still a lot more shallow than normal, and he could see the worry lines etched on her face as her eyebrows scrunched together.
Very slowly Addison moved her good hand toward him, stretching her fingers out in his direction. Just as slowly, Derek moved his own hand forward, stopping only when his fingers came to rest over hers.
He saw her sigh.
"Close your eyes, Addie."
Then, with their fingers mingled together on the blanket, she finally did.
