A/N: Thank you so, so much for the feedback on this story. I'm honestly blown away in the best possible way. I'm sorry it's been so long between trips to the island, but we're back with a nice long chapter, the longest yet, and one that - for once - might just have some answers for those of you who've been clamoring. Starting off with a flashback, as you do...

.-.-.

Some Bright Morning
14. when the clouds have passed away

.-.-.

"How's she doing?"

"She's ... okay." Addison seems to be mostly asleep, her head resting in her friend's lap while Savvy strokes her long hair. Between the two of them they've managed to clean her up and she's clad in some of Savvy's lounging clothes.

Addison's eyes flutter open at Savvy's words, then closed again as she speaks in a raw, husky voice. "He's not coming, is he, Sav."

Weiss exchanges a look with his wife. Very slightly, he shakes his head.

"We're here, Addie," Savvy says gently. "We're here and you're going to be fine. Weiss, can you … can you get me another blanket, honey?"

It's less than an hour before she finds him in the kitchen pouring himself a drink.

"I know," he says ruefully when he sees her in the open archway, "but it's just one and I really need it."

"I didn't say anything, except … can I share?"

He smiles at her as she takes a sip.

"Addie's asleep?"

"Yeah."

"I really thought Derek would show," Weiss admits quietly.

"You did?" Savvy smiles sadly at him. "Well. You're the optimist, we know this."

He takes the tumbler from her hand and sets it on the counter, pulling her against his chest. "I didn't feel like an optimist at the hospital, I can tell you that."

"I'm so sorry I couldn't make it in time."

"Don't be. I'm sorry I don't have a stronger stomach."

She smiles a little into his shirt. "Can you believe they see that and worse every day? Aren't you glad we didn't go to medical school?"

"No, and yes, in that order." He's stroking her hair absently. "She's going to be okay, right?"

"Right," she says, with enough firmness to try to convince them both.

"Sav, she was so…"

"I know." She pulls back and touches his face. "I know."

"But you don't think she was … that she meant to …"

"No. I don't. I don't think. Savvy sighs. "She's a WASP. WASPs drink a lot."

"I know this. I judge this," he adds, "but I know this. But it's still … even for her. And I've been drinking with her for twenty years…."

"Weiss?"

"Yeah, baby."

"What about Derek?"

"What about him?"

"You're worried. I'm worried. But he wasn't worried."

"He doesn't know the whole story, Sav. She never told him, did she?"

Savvy's silent for a moment. "That's different," she says finally.

"Look, he didn't seem to be worried, okay, but …"

"…but you want to think the best of him still?"

"I was going to say 'but I'm not sure he understood,' but … yeah." He nods.

"I told you – I married an incurable optimist." She smiles sadly at him and he leans in to kiss her. She responds, then pushes him back gently.

He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and sighs. "You want me to call him again, or-"

"No. I'll make the call this time."

"To Derek?"

"No," she says again, glancing at him. "WebCom is settling, and I can afford a few days off. Especially now, with the new tower…"

"The new tower," he says, getting her meaning. "You think –"

"I think she needs it."

He nods. "What do you want me to tell Derek, if he calls?"

"If he calls," Savvy repeats, resting a hand on his chest. "I don't know. I'll ask Addie in the morning."

"He might already be here by then."

"He might … but he won't."

"Pessimist," he scolds gently.

"Optimist."

She leans against him once more and he wraps his arms around her. For a moment she just drinks in his strength, feeling a combination of love and gratitude that sustains her. Then she pulls back. "Weiss … keep an eye on her, will you?"

"Of course. Where are you going?"

She tilts her head up to kiss him. "I'm going to call my brother."

.-.-.

For a few moments of silence as they drift across the open water the question hangs in the air between them.

Was it mine?

Derek steals a glance beside him; Addison is still looking out at the horizon. Her hair is wild from the storm the night before, untamed, and it's whipping around her face. They've been going almost full throttle, the engine is louder than a purr and he wonders for a moment if she even heard his question. He reduces their speed, finally just cutting the engine and letting the boat sit.

Addison turns to him, looking anxious.

"The motor was loud," he says lamely. It sounds like the excuse it is.

She doesn't respond. The boat bobs quietly and other than birds calling overhead, and a dragonfly who seems intent on riding back to the island with them, they're alone in the newly calm sea.

"Addison…"

"I'm sorry," she says softly, and there's no need for more words.

He understands what she means.

So it wasn't his. He feels … something, but he's not sure what, yet, and realizes he'll have to wait to analyze it.

"I was, um, it wasn't even six weeks LMP," she continues, offering medicine like an apology.

Addison was meticulous about birth control, like most things, in his memory. He'd expect her to notice a missed period under almost any circumstances – he can recall her panic when she was late once during their intern year before she figured out it was down to the insanity of her work schedule. With some discomfort he realizes how … insane, for lack of a better word, the last month must have been for her to miss this.

Still, there was so much blood. He makes tentative reference and she shrugs a little.

"It's, uh, it's like that sometimes." She's looking down at her lap now. "It was like that the last time, too."

The last time. He freezes. "What do you –"

"Derek … "

He stops talking when she says his name.

"…let's go back to the island," she finishes softly. "Please?"

He glances at her white, exhausted face, the trembling hands in her lap, and nods his assent. Releasing the throttle, he guides the boat back to its traveling speed. As little bits of spray dot his face like tears, he finds himself extending one hand over the divider between them. After a moment, her fingers find his, and they enfold.

.-.-.

There's a tall, broad-shouldered man waiting on the dock as they approach the island; he's just a silhouette at first and Derek can't tell if it's Beau, Boswell, or one of the dozens of other cousins and cousins-in-law whose names he hasn't learned. The blond is shading his eyes as Derek pulls the runaround into shore, one hand gripping a walkie-talkie.

"I've got 'em," Derek hears the man say into his device. "Just got in. Yeah, they seem okay."

Then he gives Derek and Addison a smile that creases his tanned face. "Welcome back," he says simply, and Derek recognizes him as man who was talking to Boswell in the shelter the previous night, though which cousin he is among the many Beauforts he has no idea.

"Thanks," he says, grateful for the assistance. Derek helps Addison out of the boat while the other man holds the vessel still, then helps him get her secured again.

Addison is still holding the blanket he made sure not to leave on the mainland, the one he wrapped her in the previous night in their room at Reeds. Derek leads her to the bench on the dock, unclips her life jacket when she makes no move to do so, and encourages her to sit. She sinks silently on the bench, arms folded around herself and staring at the water. She's wearing an uncharacteristic pink sweatshirt with a cat on it that screams something's wrong even louder than her stiff posture and pale face. Derek glances down at his own red Atlanta Falcons sweatshirt – the options in the hospital's small gift shop were limited, to say the least.

When he returns to make sure the boat's secured, he sees the other man's gaze drift to Addison.

"She okay?"

"She will be."

The other man nods. "Good. You really went all the way to the mainland in the storm, huh?"

"Yes."

"Helped yourself to Beau's runaround?"

Derek shifts his stance with some embarrassment. "It was the strongest-looking boat at the dock."

"Even with curfew … and the weather … "

Derek looks over at Addison's hunched form. "What else could I have done?"

The other man shakes his head. "You're crazy enough to be a real Beaufort, I can tell you that," he says, and his tone is admiring.

Derek absorbs the unexpected praise for a moment, then takes a half step closer even though they're fifteen feet from a distracted Addison.

"Look … she, uh, she really needs to rest. I know the others have probably been worried, and she didn't want to cause any problems..."

"Got it. Well, you know Savvy's like a dog with a bone but I'll do my best to get y'all some privacy."

"Thank you so much."

"It's nothing. Glad y'all made it back in one piece."

Derek realizes he still hasn't caught the man's name, and if he lets the moment pass he may never recognize him again in the sea of Beaufort cousins. "You've been so helpful, I'm sorry but I can't remember your name. There are just so many –"

"So many blonds? That's the truth, for sure." The other man smiles, holding out one large, tanned hand. "No problem. I'm Casey."

And Derek finally puts two and two together as he reaches out to take the proffered hand.

"Casey," he repeats as they shake hands. "I've, uh, I've heard a lot about you."

"Don't believe a word of it." He winks. "Go on and get some rest now and I'll do my best to keep the Beauforts at bay."

Addison doesn't move as he approaches, or when he sits down on the bench next to her.

"Let's go inside," he suggests carefully.

She nods, but still doesn't make an effort to get up. He stands first, offers her his right hand out of habit and then can't help a brief hiss of pain as she lets him pull her to her feet.

"I'm sorry!" Both her hands are on his shoulder now, cold fingers manipulating his sore muscles. "I forgot."

"So did I." He covers her hand with his left. "Don't worry about it, I'm fine."

Her arms drop down again to fold over her chest.

"Let's go back to the room."

.-.-.

Dread creeps in as they approach the door to their room at Reeds. Last night was such a blur he's not sure what the state of the room will be, other than … not good. He's trying to decide whether it makes sense to sit Addison on the patio to give him a chance to clean up first when he realizes he doesn't have a key.

"Here," Addison says as if she's read his mind, and she bends carefully, lifting the cushion to snag a flash of metal from the wooden slats of the porch swing.

He pushes the door open reluctantly, bracing himself for a mess.

But there's no mess.

Someone has cleaned up the room: the bed is made with a fresh blanket at the foot, there's no sign of the wet towels he left strewn around, not a single bloodstain to be seen. The hastily scrawled note he left on the knotty pine dresser in case anyone looked for them is gone; in its place are fresh flowers in a vase.

He turns to Addison. "Does the island magic include elves?"

She smiles a little at that, but she's practically shaking with exhaustion.

"Why don't you lie down, Addie?"

She nods and lets him help her toward the bed, then pauses. "Wait. I want to clean up first."

"Okay." He's not sure how best to handle that. "Um…"

Then he's saved when there's a knock on the door. So much for privacy. He gets Addison situated on top of the bed first, assuring her he'll help her clean up soon, and then opens the door.

And doesn't see anyone.

Until he lowers his gaze to see a small blond head. The little boy standing outside the door - tan and sunburn fighting for control of his face, bright blue eyes - holds up a covered picnic basket that seems to be heavy enough to require both hands.

"Mister Derek, I brought some food 'cause y'all didn't get breakfast."

"Oh. Thank you. That was nice of you," Derek says, accepting the tray.

"There's more in the fridge, too," the boy continues. My daddy said y'all would be hungry after your trip."

"That was nice of him."

"He said you wouldn't know where to find food 'cause you're a-"

"That sounds like it might be a little less nice," Derek interrupts quickly, "but it's probably still fair." He smiles at the little boy, who he realizes now must belong to Beau. "Thank you, uh…"

"Christopher."

"Right. Thank you, Christopher."

Derek shakes his head after he's back in the room. "Five kids."

"Your mom did it," Addison points out.

"True. We were a handful, too."

"Yeah." She draws her knees up on the bed, the word kids seeming to make her pensive.

He sits down next to her, carefully so as not to rock the bed too much. She's tracing the fabric of the quilt, not looking at him.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know." There's no inflection to her tone. "What good would it do?"

"You live with him," he says tentatively.

"I don't. I'm just … sleeping there," she mumbles, then raises her head. "You know I can't - and he feels guilty, I think, about what happened with you, but it's not …" Her voice trails off.

Mark feels guilty? Derek considers this. He had plenty of missed calls from his former best friend, early on, but he ignored them just as he ignored Addison's. There was no survival without blocking their existence, not then.

Addison winces instead of continuing and he rests a hand on one of her legs. "Are you in pain?"

"Not really."

He checks the time; she's not due more painkillers for another hour and she's always reluctant with meds anyway. "You should rest." He pats her leg and stands.

"Derek –"

"Yeah."

"Will you stay?"

"Of course." He sets himself on the marriage bench, where they shared a jar of white lightning what seems like a lifetime ago.

"I'm not tired," she complains softly when a few moments have passed. She's sitting propped up in her clothes – typical Addison, refusing to get under the covers until she's had a chance to clean up, but he's in no hurry to try to figure out the logistics of that.

"Try to rest," he suggests. "You need-"

"I know," she sighs. "It's not my first time."

So she hinted in the boat. He supposes this is as much an indication she wants to talk as anything. He waits for her to go on, thinking of Weiss's increasingly intense calls a couple years back. No … that doesn't make any sense. Weiss didn't say anything about a miscarriage; he would have told him.

"It was a long time ago," she murmurs in response to his unspoken question. "Before I met you. It's, uh, it's ancient history."

Ancient history. Before they met. College? Weiss's protective stance the first time they met, the way they teased him, papa bear, is it related?

"Tell me," he suggests gently.

"It was no big deal." Her voice sounds faraway and quiet. "I was … seeing someone Sav and Weiss didn't like. In college, when I was a junior."

He nods; it doesn't sound familiar so far. He knows Addison dated around in college, nothing serious, or at least that's what she's told him before.

"It was no big deal," she says again.

"Such a no big deal that it's –" He breaks off at her expression and softens his tone. "Look, Addie, can you just tell me?"

"Can you not look at me?"

"Addison."

"Please."

"Okay, fine."

But the distance between them suddenly seems like too much. Taking a chance, he crosses the room and takes a seat on the other side of the bed, careful to focus his gaze on the flowers across the room instead of on the woman next to him. There. He's not looking at her.

"Go on," he prompts.

"Savvy and Weiss started dating junior year," she says quietly, apparently accepting his new position and turning her own head to gaze out the window. "It was serious right away, you know, they were together constantly and I went from seeing her all the time to … not."

He nods without looking, as she requested. So far the story sounds a lot like his early courtship with Addison in medical school, and Mark's concurrent complaints.

"I was lonely," she admits, her gaze still focused out the window. "I had other friends and … dates, you know, but it wasn't the same. Sav and I used to do everything together. And dates aren't boyfriends, you know?" She pauses. "So I, uh, I found a boyfriend."

Derek is looking away from her still, with some effort, and doesn't interrupt.

"He was my TA, actually, he was a PhD student. He was older, you know, and smart and … things moved quickly and then I wasn't lonely anymore."

She stops talking and he sees the anxious movements of her hands in his peripheral vision. Tentatively, he reaches across the quilt separating them, still not looking, until he feels her take his hand. He gives her palm an exploratory squeeze and she returns it.

And then starts talking again. "He, uh, you know, I was young, our relationship was … well, you know how girls are at that age, drama."

He's not sure what she means but doesn't want to interrupt.

"I guess you could say we … fought a lot," she says quietly. "Savvy didn't like it, and she got Weiss involved, and they were … so yeah, he was protective, when you met him."

"Because he didn't like your boyfriend," he prompts gently.

"We used to fight a lot," she repeats, and he hears something different in her inflection that makes his blood feel cold.

"Addison…"

"It's fine, believe me, we've both seen much worse," she says tightly.

"Addison."

"Stop. It wasn't a big deal, I told you." Her voice is wooden. "It's fine."

"Addie..."

"I had a miscarriage," she says bluntly, switching topics in a way he knows is designed to get him off her back - it's an old strategy, but he accepts it.

"I'm sorry."

She waves a dismissive hand. "It was … very early, like now. And they said, you know, some women have extensive bleeds even early in the first trimester, and it was coupled with – "

She stops talking.

"Coupled with what?"

"I, uh, I fell," she says quietly and his stomach cramps at her tone.

"Addie…"

"No, it wasn't like that, we were just fighting in a … stupid place, and I fell."

I fell. How many times did he hear that from a battered patient in the ER? His body is aching as if he's the one who fell or as if it's finally feeling the strain of the last twenty-four hours.

"It's not a big deal," she says again. "It was just … it was an accident, it was stupid, blown all out of proportion."

"How does the island fit in?"

She glances at him and he sees her head turn, and turns to look at her.

"How'd you know?"

"Hints," he shrugs. "So…"

"When I was in the … when I was recovering, Bos flew up, you know, he used to come every other spring break and we were supposed to go to this festival. And, um, he found out what happened and he took it hard."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what Bos is like."

Derek waits.

"Bos, uh, I guess he put him in the hospital. And we left, went out to the island."

"Who's we?"

"Me. Savvy. Bos. We drove down to Beaufort Grove and Beau met us there."

Derek tries to absorb all the new information at once.

"That's why you're so secretive about Boswell?"

"I guess so." Addison's back to playing with the quilt edge. "I was kind of a mess after everything that happened and ... Bos, he … helped put me back together, you could say."

"You had a relationship with him?"

"No, it wasn't like that. We didn't have those kinds of feelings for each other. It was just …"

"Island magic," he suggests gently, and she nods.

"So that's it." She pauses, worrying a bit of quilt between two fingers. "I didn't see him again for ... years, not until almost two years ago."

He can't tell whether she means Boswell or her ex-boyfriend, but suddenly the connections in time and almost two years ago click into place.

He takes one of her hands in his, letting it anchor him. They're talking and he doesn't want to lose the opportunity, even if he's concerned he'll scare her off. He decides to take a chance.

"Almost two years ago. That's when Weiss calls me."

She blinks. "And you didn't call him back," she recalls ruefully. He flushes in response, a little confused. So she doesn't know …

She's drunk, and I don't mean just drunk, I mean …

"I, uh, I saw him that day," she says quietly. "He was … I was treating a patient who'd been in a minor collision and her husband was on his way and then he was there, he walked in and I – it was him. He was the father." She shakes her head. "And I – Derek, I don't even know if he recognized me but all I needed was that look that one look and – "

"And?"

"And I left. Told my resident to tell Chief Drake I was sick and wouldn't be back and ... I left."

"Where did you go?"

"To get drunk," she says, shame coloring her tone. "I don't remember that much of it, to be honest, except I do remember the bartender giving me the house phone and telling me to call a friend or he was calling 911."

He swallows. That's more than drunk. That's ...

"You called Savvy."

She nods. "I don't think I knew what time it was, it was early, she was working, I guess and I don't really remember but they told me I left a message. Messages. Maybe a few. I guess Weiss showed up and I don't remember anything else except waking up in the hospital after they pumped my stomach. Savvy was standing there and she was crying and I thought – I thought it was like the last time."

He shakes his head, trying to make sense of it all. "How did all this happen and I never –"

"I never wanted you to know about what happened in college. I wanted to start over, in medical school, and I met you, and … I didn't want you to know. It felt good, your not knowing. I felt normal."

He's still holding her hand, moving his thumb across her soft skin. "But after, when ..." he stops talking for a moment. "You didn't call me."

She doesn't respond.

"You called Savvy," he prompts.

"I guess I didn't think you'd pick up."

"And then … you came here?" The words slip out slowly as the last puzzle piece falls into place. "You came to the island, didn't you."

She nods slowly.

"You never told me."

"You never asked."

"Addison…"

"It doesn't matter. I had a story prepared," she tells him. "But … I didn't need it."

He thinks back. They routinely wouldn't see each other for a day or two by that time, between the demands of building their practices, the additional work each of them took on, and the unpredictable nature of both their work. He'd crash at Mark's sometimes, which was closer to the hospital, and he knew she'd do the same with Savvy.

Her hand is still folded into his and he just sits, absorbing all the new information that feels like a wave crashing over his head. It takes time, to process.

And that's something he's not sure he has.

.-.-.

She this close to actually stamping her foot and she might have if not for her concern about the loose floorboards on the old cottage's porch.

"Casey Eugene White, I don't care if you're my brother-in-law, I will kill you and dump the body in Three Rivers right now if you don't tell me what Derek said!"

"Sav, take it easy with the threats." Weiss's hands are firm and soothing on her shoulders. "You have witnesses."

"Just tell me, Case," she pleads.

"Savvy, I already told you," Casey says patiently. "Derek said she'll be fine and she needs to rest. He said they want privacy."

"Privacy," Weiss repeats before Savvy can protest, "so no, you don't need to go traipsing over there right now."

"Addie might need me," she says stubbornly.

"Addie has Derek," Weiss counters softly.

For a moment she's quiet.

"You check on them," she offers quietly. "Please, honey. Man to man, whatever. I won't go, all right? But just – make sure they're okay."

Weiss looks torn. She touches his stubbly cheek.

"Please," she repeats, and then he nods.

"Hey, Case." Weiss turns to his brother-in-law. "You going to be okay here with a potential murderer?"

Casey grins from his vantage point a head above both of them. "I like my chances," he jokes, wrapping an affectionate arm around Savvy.

"I wouldn't really kill you, you know," she says as they watch Weiss leave, tilting her head up to see Casey's face.

He smiles down at her. "Thanks, Sav … I'm touched."

.-.-.

Derek is starting to drift off himself, still sitting up against the headboard, when he hears a hesitant knock on the door. It's quiet enough not to wake a dozing Addison, and he crosses the floor quickly so the noise won't disturb her.

"Weiss." Propping the latch open, he slips outside to speak to his friend on the patio.

"Sorry." He spreads his hands. "I'm here on Sav's orders. How's Addie?"

"She's … okay. She's resting."

"Derek." Weiss's eyes are dark with concern. "I know Addie doesn't want to upset Savvy but she's freaking out in the dark over there. We saw the note, and-"

"I'm so sorry. I tried to call."

"But the lines are still down. I know. Derek, what happened?"

"A lot more than I ever realized," Derek says grimly. "A hell of a lot more."

He sees understanding register on his old friend's face. "You know, don't you."

"I know," Derek confirms.

Weiss shoves his hands in his pockets. "Then, uh … I guess maybe we need to talk."

"Yeah." Derek nods slowly. "I guess maybe we do." He glances toward the room, out at the beach, and then back at his friend when something catches his eye.

"Weiss – can you do me a favor and stay here, just for a minute, keep an eye out in case she wakes up?"

"Sure," Weiss looks at him. "Where are you –"

"Just down to the beach for a second. I, uh, think I saw something." He's embarrassed but Weiss doesn't question it, and he doesn't know if his old friend is watching when Derek's guess is confirmed and his hand closes, briefly, around a starfish marooned on the beach as the tide pulls out. It's Addison's voice he hears in his head.

They wash up on the island very rarely, um, and when they do, you can make a wish on them and put them back in the ocean. 'Give to get.' They say if it's meant to be it will come true.

He looks down at the starfish resting in his flat palm and hears Weiss's voice, down the phone line again. Derek, listen to me …. He hears his own cold words, the ones that fill him with shame to remember, the ones Weiss apparently never shared with Addison. Their old friend, looking out for Derek, or for Addison? Or for both. He should tell her himself, he knows this. He should, and he will, but as his fist starts to tighten automatically his throat tightens too with the realization of how much he hurt her.

It wasn't a big deal. It doesn't matter.

They're the phrases of someone who doesn't think their pain is important. And he's forced to reckon with the fact that he himself is part of why she tells her story that way. And when their brief time on the island is over, when he stops hurting her again, that must be how she'll tell their shared story.

He'll be one more thing that hurt her.

There's nothing he can do about it now, he reminds himself, the breeze picking up and moving his hair as he stands at the shore with the starfish in his hand.

Nothing except make sure he never hurts her again.

Closing his eyes, he blocks out any thought of someone being able to see him. Give to get. He whispers his wish into the wind before he throws the starfish back into the endless water.

.-.-.

"Not a peep," Weiss assures him when he returns to the patio.

"Thanks." He reaches for the door, but the other man is still blocking it.

"Derek," he says quietly, "look, I don't want to … but it's not too late, you know. To fix things."

"To fix …" His voice trails off and he shakes his head. Weiss doesn't understand. Derek can't fix a problem that's him. "No, I was, uh, I'm just trying to help her last night."

Weiss studies the floorboards for a moment. "Okay," he says mildly. "Did you want to … talk?"

I guess maybe we need to talk.

Derek hears a rustling sound from inside the room. "Not now," he says ruefully; Weiss nods and then he's gone and Derek's back inside the room with a slowly rousing Addison.

"How are you feeling?" He brushes back some of her hair when he gets to her side. She's still sitting propped up on top of the covers; it looks awkward, not that comfortable, but she refused to get under the covers without showering.

"Grimy," she says, wincing. "I want to take a shower," she adds, her tone starting to border on desperate, and he nods immediately.

"I'll help you." He glances toward the bathroom and sees concern flicker across her face.

With a sinking feeling, he understands. The tub in the bathroom may have been cleaned, the bloodstained towels and mat removed, but it's still too fresh. Too raw.

Then he remembers the outdoor shower and sees in her expression that she does too. It's chilly, though, in the calm after the storm.

"Stay here," he orders her gently. "I'll get some steam going so it's warm and then come get you when it's ready."

.-.-.

She waits by the window.

True to his word, he comes back in a few minutes; she's ready for him in the fresh robe someone left in the room. The same person who cleaned up her blood, probably, and she shudders a little to think of it.

He leads her by one terrycloth-covered elbow; her balance is fine but she's loathe to tell him to let go. She's never been in the outdoor shower here. As soon as she turns the large wooden latch the door gives way to another world.

What looked like a small wooden cube from the outside is comfortably large, yet small enough to be intimate and retain warmth. Steam from the hot spray billows around her, darkening the teak doors and bringing out the rich scent of the wood. The top of the shower is open to the bright blue sky, cool air and warm sunlight battling for control. Under any other circumstances ... it would be glorious. Now, sore and tired, the hands that are carefully supporting her remind her of a hundred showers of the past and it fills her with a powerful rush of longing and regret.

"Derek…"

"Are you okay?" He's not looking at her, she realizes, he's looking past her, and she swallows hard and then nods, slowly.

"I can stay…" he offers.

She nods again, shrugging out of her robe and hanging it on one of the hooks at the far wall; after a moment's hesitation, he sheds his clothes too and joins her under the spray. The teak boards supporting their feet have taken on water, she slides a bit and he rests his hands on her hips to steady her.

Then, for a long moment, they just look at each other. Water is pouring onto both of them, dripping down his soaked hair and spraying off the familiar muscles of his shoulders where her hands slowly rise to rest.

"I miss you," she confesses, and bridges the rest of the distance between them to press her lips to his.

He seems surprised for a moment and then he responds, lips moving gently at first and then more fiercely capturing hers. Her hands slide into his wet hair, and the kiss is intoxicating, she drowns in it, the cool skin of his face contrasting with the warmth of his lips, the heat of his mouth when she sweeps her tongue and the steam of the shower rolling around both of them.

Water flows between them, around them; the teak scent overpowers and the shower is a fragrant waterfall. She presses closer to him – they fit so perfectly, they always have; he's hard where she's soft, he yields where she pushes against him and his hands are sliding down her back, cupping her to hold her close as she melts into him.

And then the contact disappears with no warning, she's shivering a little without his warmth despite the steam, gooseflesh rising on her arms. She looks up at him questioningly, feeling the loss of his closeness like a physical ache.

"We … shouldn't," he says softly. She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to get her breath back; when she opens them she's looking directly into his eyes and they're bleak under the square of bright sky overhead ... a muted, painful blue.

"Derek," she whispers. "Derek, I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay."

"I'm sorry about everything. All of it."

"I know," he repeats. "I'm sorry too, Addie. I'm so sorry." His hand reaches out to touch her cheek, as gentle as it was in the boat, in the hospital, but she realizes she must have been wrong to read more into it. He was just concerned about her then, he thought her life was in danger. He's a good person. That's all. There was nothing else behind it.

Exhausted, disappointed, feeling too weak to hold up her own weight, she leans just her head against him, his bare skin comforting even as she keeps a chaste distance from the source of his heat. After a moment his arms come up to hold her, one hand tangling in her long, wet hair, and the other sinking into the curve of her lower back that might as well have his name stamped on it. They stand there for a long time under the water in the fragrant steam, just holding each other and breathing quietly.

To be continued (of course). Faster than the last update, I promise. That one was shameless. So ... some answers, maybe a couple more questions, and maybe a little bit of a twist as my babies never make it easy to make it work. I mean, Derek thinking Addison is better off without him is too sad to last forever. They did talk, though! And they will talk more. Especially if you review. #shameless

Oh, and who guessed what was coming with the mysterious Casey, Bos's spouse? Remember, only Derek referred to Casey as his "wife," the rest was pure assumption. See, Derek, you just need to open your mind a little and you can fix all this. Please.

Did I mention I'm a shameless review hound? Just saying, it sure does keep me going on those finger-exhausting journeys through this story. So throw me a solid and review, pretty please!