She doesn't know how they got here, to this point that their house is an absolute mess with broken glass everywhere and her husband looks like an asshole; she thinks that she's never seen him be more of an asshole than he is in this moment. She's crying, sobbing really. She can barely hear his heavy breathing anymore, the way her husband cannot seem to control his temper anymore.
This isn't the version of Derek she remembers.
He hasn't touched her, hasn't come near her, but he's thrown a lot of things, broken a lot of things. She loves him more than anything in the world, would do anything that he asks her to, but she can't get rid of their child. For days, she's been not saying anything to him, afraid of what he might say to her because she can't handle it if he tells her to get rid of their child again.
"Addison," he finally says in the silence of the room; she can't bring herself to look at him, to give him the attention he's requesting, "I'm going to clean this up. You don't bother with it, I'll fix this."
Part of her wishes he was talking about them, about their marriage, about the way they fit together these days. She wishes she could erase all of the fighting, all of the days they go without talking, all of the ways they barely exist with one another anymore. She pretends not to feel his eyes on her, pretends that she can't feel his pity. His apologies are only just words now; she wonders what's happened to him.
"What's made you like this, Derek?" She asks. She didn't mean to ask, but when she hears the words come out of her mouth she immediately regrets it. She doesn't want to ask him questions, isn't sure that she's ready to hear his answers. All she knows is that he stops moving, hands on hips, and lifts sad eyes to her. "What's made you so…?"
"I can't save him, Addie," he finally says. He's losing his composure and fast. She pushes herself to her feet and crosses the room, careful to avoid broken lamps and shattered glass. Her fingers push into his jaw as she lifts his eyes to hers, a chance she's taking because she can't handle seeing her husband hurt. "There isn't anything that I can do to save him. He's going to die and there isn't anything I can do about it. I don't want to raise a child who will never know him. There's so much about him that we hate, but there's so much about him that we love."
"I know, Derek," she finally agrees, "he has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known. He's the only person I've ever known who can love unconditionally. He's the only person who will drop everything he's doing at one phone call. He's so very human, but he's surprised us so much over the years."
"And he was going to get married. For the first time in his life he was a man," he adds. He's crying now and she hates it that he's crying; she attributes it to her hormones when she feels a tear slide down her cheek. Her thumb brushes along his cheek bone and he sniffs like he can't breathe anymore. "He was in love and he found a woman who he was right to and who loved him."
"You're talking about him like he's already gone," she says quietly.
A sob racks his body; "he's my best friend."
("What's going on?" He asks with a quirked eyebrow as he opens the front door. He shuts the door loudly behind him and laughs a little bit as he spots her behind the counter in the kitchen. The smell of whatever she's cooking hits his nose and he wonders if there's something that she isn't tell him. "What's the celebration?"
"No celebration," she replies with a smile.
"So, is this a special occasion that I'm missing then?" He laughs a little confused. He isn't sure if it's like some anniversary or something special because he can't remember. They've never really put names or dates on anything so it'd be easy for him to miss something. He swallows as he carefully approaches the direction of the kitchen, "whatever I missed I'll make up for it."
"You didn't miss anything," she replies with a laugh, "I'm just cooking. Am I not allowed to cook?"
"Sure, I mean, of course you can cook. I just wasn't really expecting it," he admits with a laugh. He sits on the bar stool at the counter and watches her move around the kitchen like an expert. If he's honest, she's never cooked since they've been together and she's never really been in this happy place. He wonders if she is now, if she's suddenly free of all of whatever was holding her back. "You've never cooked before. I didn't even know you could cook."
"I'm an excellent cook," she declares. She forks some of whatever she's cooking and cups below it so nothing drops onto the floor and offers him a bite. He takes a bite, swallows, and he can't even begin to describe the way it tastes. He just knows that he has no complaints. "What do you think?"
He smirks, "you never cease to amaze me.")
"Where are you going?" She mumbles into the pillow, somewhere into the darkness of the bedroom. She feels his fingertips touch her hair just before they slide against her cheek. She rolls over, her body touching his chest and keeping her from rolling right off of the bed. "It's too early. You're dressed, where are you going?"
"Derek and I are going golfing," he replies quietly.
"Oh yeah," she replies absently as she stretches, "are you sure that's the best idea?"
He sighs. Not in that annoyed way that he's been doing lately because she's been insanely protective over everything that he does, but more like because he's tired. She didn't remember them getting up so early to go golfing because it's been so long. She vaguely recalls a text message from Addison a few days before informing of how much Derek needed a day with Mark.
"Yes, baby. I feel great. I've felt a lot better lately," he replies with a small smile; it slides into a teasing grin, "besides, I'm going to be with my doctor. You don't have to worry about me."
"It's my job to worry about you, love," she replies innocently. She reaches out and lightly touches his face, fingertips lingering along his jaw bone. Her nails drag along his scruff, thumb hooking into the corner of his mouth as she attempts to trace his smile. She doesn't want to forget the way he smiles. "Besides, I like it better when you're in bed with me."
"Who knew you were so sweet this early in the morning?" He teases.
"Like you've ever had the chance to find out," she retorts. She pats his cheek, only just now noticing that he's crouched beside her. He smiles just a little bit wider at the feel of her fingers remaining on his face. "You usually stay in bed until the very last minute."
"Well, how about we start making some changes starting today?" He replies suggestively, "we'll make everything better. No matter what anyone else says, we're going to make the best out of it."
"What are you trying to say?" She asks with a small grin.
"I'm trying to say that I love you and I want to remember everything about you," he says. He offers her a sad smile with a slight tilt of the head. She thinks he knows what he's trying to say but she doesn't want to go there, doesn't want to think he's implying what he's implying. Everything has been all about his brain tumor. "I asked you to marry me, didn't I?"
He engages a question that she can't help but smile about, one that doesn't leave much room for her mind to wonder; "you sure did."
"You haven't changed your mind yet, have you?"
She laughs a little as he leans forward. His lips touch hers, lightly, but her fingers still thread into the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulls back and gives her a smile, sliding his fingertips along her skin. She shivers beneath his touch and it makes him attempt to tuck her in a little bit more.
"And I'm not going to," she adds once she yawns.
"Good. That makes me a pretty lucky guy," he replies, pushing himself to his feet, "get some more sleep."
("When she gets here, you have to be nice," he warns; he takes a quick glance around the entire table, not just leaving his gaze on Derek's mother, "all of you."
"Okay, Mark, I just don't understand how you've been together for six months and we've never met her," Amelia chimes in. He stares at her pointedly and Addison tries to keep her mouth shut. Amelia's always judgmental of the women Mark brings around, not that he ever really does or that they ever really last long; she catches Addison warning glances and lifts her hands in surrender. "Okay, fine. I'll be on my best behavior."
"Dinner's on Mark," Nancy supplies.
"You cannot expect a man to buy dinner for eight people when it's fifty dollars a person," Carolyn says.
"No," he says with a laugh, "it's fine. I'll buy as long as everyone is nice. Don't ask too many questions and do not say anything to embarrass me."
"Oh, please," Addison finally says, "like you can be embarrassed."
"Shut up, Addison. We like Teddy," Derek adds with a laugh. He does genuinely like Teddy, Mark knows that much, he just wonders how long Mark is going to keep up the façade that he's become a one woman man. He nods his head in appreciation at his best friend from across the long table. "I thought she was like, one of your closest friends."
"Definitely," Addison agrees.)
"Nice swing," he comments as Derek sends the ball flying. His friend smiles as he turns his head in Mark's direction and he likes the way it seems to be genuine rather than just an apologetic smile. He doesn't want to think that he's causing so many problems for Derek. He feels like his whole life has begun to center around not what he's doing, but around what's keeping him from doing anything. "You're really on your game today."
"You think?" Derek laughs a little as he lowers his club. He's noticed that Derek seems more like a person today than yesterday. He hates being the cause of everyone's distress, he knows that he is, but he tries to say that he can't help it. They're on the third hole and he's already feeling exhausted, but he's trying to keep his stride. "And here I've been thinking that I've been playing like shit."
"Nah, you're on your game. I'm playing like shit," he counters with a laugh. His chest tightens and he's just trying to breathe. He's been trying so hard to pretend for all of them that he's okay and that they're all going to be okay, so that they can go on living their lives. He's been trying so hard, but he isn't sure how much longer he can keep it up; already, he needs to take a break, needs to quit walking. "Did Archer ever call you?"
"Yeah," Derek replies, tensing up. He doesn't like the sight of that, the way that Derek stiffens at the first mention of anything serious. Derek drops his club into his bag on the back of the cart and leans against it. He smiles apologetically, back to that formality. "He doesn't know yet. He's still trying to figure something out. He doesn't know shit. He's just a neurologist."
Mark gets a small kick out of this because Derek's always had a love/hate relationship with Archer; "fair enough."
Derek tilts his head like he's dissatisfied that's all he can say about no one knowing if he's going to live. In a world whether he could live or die, he should probably consider everything from this point on. He releases a tired breath before he drops his gaze to the ground, leaning gently against his own golf club.
"Listen," he starts; Derek's attention settles on him fully, "if something happens to me, I need you to do me a favor or a few favors. First, I need you to make sure Teddy's okay. I need you to be sure that she doesn't forget how to sleep at night or breathe on her own. I need you to take care of her until she knows how to take care of herself. Secondly, I need you and Addison to have lots of kids. I know you both want to be successful, but you want kids together. You'll make great parents."
Derek lightly shakes his head in protest, but he doesn't allow his best friend to speak. He can see the tears in Derek's eyes and it makes him shift his gaze out on the field because he doesn't think he can handle seeing him cry. He releases a breath as the tears threaten to fall, and with voice shaky, he somehow finds the strength to go on.
"If I die, I need you to be strong. I need you to have the strength to bury me or cast my ashes into the ocean or whatever – whatever Teddy wants to do, but we haven't talked about it much. I won't let her talk about it much but I'm sure she's thought about it," he breathes heavily and looks at Derek again, "and that's her home too, okay? Make sure nobody makes her go anywhere, not unless she wants to."
"Yeah," Derek says, biting back the tears, "okay."
"I'm not going to lie," he adds with a small laugh, "that kind of took the wind out of me."
"Are you okay?"
"You might want to call an ambulance," he admits. Next thing he knows, everything seems to go black and he can faintly hear Derek yelling in the background. So much for feeling great when he woke up.
("I think they liked you," he says with a smirk. He knows that just because he heeds a warning, doesn't mean any of them were ever going to listen. Overall, dinner went well and no one caused any drama; she laughs a little at him. "No, I'm serious. They never meet any of my girlfriends because they are so, they ask a lot of personal questions and never really take interest. I think I even got a thumb up at one point."
"So, which did I need to be the most concerned with impressing?"
"All of them," he replies teasingly. He feels her fingers slide down his arm before they entwine with he's. He slightly wonders when they turned into these people who are so comfortable with each other. He never saw it coming, but he doesn't want to change it. "Amelia, probably, she can be the hardest to impress but she's also the most abrupt one, surprisingly."
"And you think I passed the test?" She asks with a smile.
He smiles and replies, "I think you aced it.")
"What in the hell happened?" Teddy growls. She isn't even all of the way around the corner and her voice is booming like she's trying to scare the life into someone. The entire room jumps like she has. "You two have been out there for three hours and he ends up in the damn hospital."
"Teddy," Derek replies; he's a bit calmer than she'd expected him to be given what Addison had told her earlier that week, "everything's going to be fine. He'll be fine. I'm going to make sure of it. You don't need to worry."
"No, what happened? He left this morning talking about how great he felt and that we didn't have anything to worry about," she counters, "I think I deserve some answers."
"It just happens sometimes. Some days you wake up and you're feeling great only to find out that you really aren't all that great. There's nothing any of us could have done about it," Derek explains.
She isn't satisfied with that answer. All she wants is to know how her fiancée ended up in the emergency room when he was supposed to be out golfing with his friend, with his doctor. She doesn't get it, doesn't understand what happened that brought them here.
"That's a load of bullshit, Derek, and you know it. I trusted you to take care of him and-"
"He's trusting me to take care of you," Derek interjects; she notices the way he seems to suddenly stand a little taller like he's challenging her, "but I don't like you very much right now. I'm taking him into surgery right now and we're going to get this thing."
"Suddenly, you can do it," she mocks with a laugh, "and how can I trust you now?"
"Because, Teddy, if he doesn't make it then my entire life is going to change, my kid will grow up never getting to know him and I am going to be a miserable parent, a miserable person without him," Derek says. His words are bordering quiet and loud. She gets it; she really does, because if he doesn't make it then her entire life is ruined too. He's brought her out of everything that was dark and she doesn't think she can stay out of a dark place without him. "You're going to have to trust me. I need you to trust me. If you won't trust me to do this, I don't think I can do it."
"Okay," she reluctantly relents, "okay, I trust you."