A/N: Now I can officially say it: Happy QPQ Sunday! Nothing like hitting that deadline two weeks in a row. If you're just tuning back in, this is the third chapter in two weeks, so make sure you're caught up. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed so generously. I'm going to update my other WIPs too, but for now I hope you enjoy another ridiculously long chapter of QPQ.
PS - you may recognize some lines from PP that I never liked in the episode, but decided to repurpose for good instead of evil.
Seeing the Light
Gestational Age: Nineteen weeks, five days
Baby is the Size of a: mango (do they make mango muffins? … they should make mango muffins)
Number of Shepherds in Seattle this week: more than one hospital can contain
Number of Baseball-Sized Cafeteria Muffins Baby Has Consumed this Week: fewer than baby's mother would prefer
Calories Per Baseball-Sized Muffin: never mind
Remaining Days to the Midpoint of Pregnancy: two
Fetal Echo News: relieving
So Things Are: stable
But Things Are Not: static
And in Baby's Mother's Experience, Things in Seattle Tend to Be: unpredictable
..
Post-echo, the mood of sheer relief colors the rest of the day.
The relief itself is intimate enough that a group celebration or even acknowledgement feels wrong, but the general lightness seems nonetheless to spread over everything they touch.
There's an extra spring in her step as she strides through the hospital on almost-as-high-as-usual heels.
And she could swear Derek looks almost jaunty as he makes his way toward a patient's room.
Even the sight of Mark on the catwalk, standing just a little too close to a blonde resident – and then snapping to attention as the Chief passes – can't dampen either of their spirits.
Improving, that's the word of the day.
And how.
..
Nancy knows enough of the results to hug her, hard, when they reconvene for a harborside dinner. The girls are full of stories about their Seattle tourist afternoon, and Carolyn is tired enough from helping to wrangle them that she doesn't ask questions.
Addison does catch her mother-in-law looking at the blue-beaded necklace around her neck—they exchange a private glance of understanding.
" … and ice cream, too." Lilly is finishing a long story, and draws breath she was apparently holding through the climax.
Derek is smiling at her. It's pleasantly balmy by the water, not like the densely humid summer they left behind in Manhattan. A slow breeze moves her hair as she leans back in the cushioned chair, one hand resting on her bump.
I could get used to this.
The thought flashes through her mind before she can analyze it.
And then the baby is kicking, Lilly and Claire both delighting in feeling it to the point that they're actually willing to take turns.
"It's nice here," Nancy says, sipping her after-dinner espresso, summing things up rather well.
Addison is feeling sated and peaceful, full from delicious seafood and the fresh bread she's fairly certain was her breakfast-loving baby's idea.
Across the tables, Carolyn is listening to Lilly sleepily plan the next morning's hotel breakfast … and looking rather tired herself. Claire is already asleep on Derek's lap, her head lolling against his chest. Addison feels that warm curl of hope again, of expectation: one day soon, that's going to be our baby.
" … it's nice," she says simply, echoing Nancy, since no words can truly make her point anyway.
..
After dinner plans are anything but simple, though. Once they've loaded their two sleepy nieces, plus Nancy and Carolyn, in the car back to the hotel, Derek and Addison are alone.
Just the two of them.
Well: two surgeons, one (unborn) baby, two overnight bags, one car.
… and one good-sized elephant in the room.
Derek opens the passenger side door for her, waits until she's settled, pulling the seat belt carefully around her new shape and looking over at him.
And then he turns over the ignition.
And then he turns to her.
"Where, uh, where am I taking you?"
Oh, if only the answer were simple.
He seems to get that and his tone lightens: "Left side? Right side?" he asks instead, in passably impatient imitation of a thousand shared cab rides.
They're both smiling at this and then the car falls silent.
"I'd like to check on Doc," Derek says finally.
"Of course. He's been – "
" – the same, says the dog walker," he assures her. "He might be a little disappointed Lilly and Claire won't be back to fuss over him, though."
"I think he'll be happy to see you," she says.
"Yeah." He looks at the wheel for a moment, then back at her. "Are you – do you want to go with me?"
His face is very young in the low seaside light and for a moment she's back on a sunny cobbled path, canvas backpack slung over her shoulder, looking at her lab partner of two weeks instead of her husband of almost twelve years. Hey, Addison … we could study together, he said with that same boyish smile, one part bashful to one part hopeful to one part I-already-know-you-want-to. She recalls that she smiled back, but she made him work for it. We could, she said neutrally. After only two weeks, she had a feeling from his expression that he knew exactly what she meant. So he took a deep breath and tried again: Do you, um, do you want to study together?
She said yes.
Now here they are, sixteen—almost seventeen—years later, in the jeep he bought without her, another question hanging in the air.
And somehow the answer feels almost as important as that long-ago summer afternoon. If she hadn't said yes then, none of them would be here now.
She draws a deep breath.
..
He recognizes the inhale that proceeds something – a phrase, a speech – to which she's had to give some thought.
(You don't spend sixteen years with someone and not notice that the way they breathe can say as much as the words they speak.)
"I'd like to go with you," she says carefully, her fingers toying with the beads of her necklace. She looks up: "Yeah, um … even to the trailer." And she laughs a little, self-consciously. "I just, uh … ."
He should help.
He should make this easier for her.
He draws his own breath and then they speak over each other, thisclose to unison.
"We should wait."
"We should wait."
She laughs a little again and he touches her hand where it rests on her necklace, still fiddling with the beads.
He nods; maybe he already knew the answer.
She needs space.
He needs to choose.
More importantly, she needs to know that he chose. He might not understand fully what that means, not yet anyway, but he understands how important it is to her and that's enough for now.
"I guess we shouldn't tempt fate," he says, keeping his tone light.
"Yeah, one sleepover … ." Her voice trails off.
"In my sister's hotel room." He pauses. "It sounds very strange when you put it like that."
"It was you who put it like that." But she's smiling a little, and he smiles back before he focuses on putting the jeep in reverse and getting them out of there.
Because even in the dim harborside light, he recognized that smile: it's the wide but rigid one she pastes on so she won't tear up.
Not visibly, anyway.
..
He insists on walking her up to the room.
"I'm not going to try anything," he says, both hands lifted in the air.
"Where have I heard that before?"
He looks amused. "I'm not 22 anymore."
"Well, neither am I." She leans against the closed door, her resolve waning a little. "Derek … ."
He takes the key out of her hand – key, not key card, it's the Rustic or Whatever Innafter all – and turns the lock for her.
"Good night, Addison."
" … good night."
She stands in the foyer of her room for a while after that, staring at the closed door, the brass key still warm in her palm and her cheek still warm from his chase good night kiss, wondering why it feels so confusing when he did exactly what she asked.
Baby … your mom might be losing it.
He calls later, to say good night to the baby. It's so normal by now she doesn't even pause to wonder anymore what someone might think if they saw the scene: a quite visibly pregnant and rather tired looking not 22-year-old, who's only taken off half her makeup before taking a break to rest, propped against a rustic-or-whatever whittled headboard and holding the telephone receiver against her bump so her unborn baby can have privacy to hear from his father.
It's normal for them, anyway, and isn't that what matters?
..
"You're having coffee with Nancy," she clarifies the next morning, accepting the decaf he's holding out for her. "You."
"Me."
"Whose idea was it?" she asks.
"Who's asking?"
He takes advantage of her silence to leans in and kiss her cheek. "I'll see you later. Oh, Addie – "
She glances up.
"My mother was disappointed not to meet all our … friends … yesterday, so she's stopping by the hospital after she takes the girls to breakfast."
It's a sign of how concerning this prospect is that Addison doesn't even stop to marvel at his mother consenting to pay for breakfast.
(Nancy convinced her it was part of the John's-million-frequent-flier-miles room credit, but still.)
"Our friends?" she repeats weakly.
"Our friends."
..
"You asked me on a date."
"I didn't ask you on a date." Derek frowns at his sister. "I asked you for coffee."
"You asked me on a date," Nancy continues, "which means something's up, which means you should stop asking me how my coffee is and tell me why you asked me on a date."
He shakes his head a little to clear it. "Did that make sense?"
"I always make sense."
"Nancy … ."
"Just spit it out, Derek. –not the coffee," she clarifies, lifting an eyebrow, and it shouldn't be amusing except they both remember Amy's prolonged spitting-milk-on-her-siblings phase.
Fine.
He sighs.
"She wants me to choose her." Derek looks down at his coffee cup for a moment.
Nancy is quiet—actually quiet! – for long moments.
"I know."
Derek glances up.
"I get it. It's the thing. You don't get it, you're a guy, and guys are stupid."
"Nancy." He shakes his head. "Remind me why I asked you for advice?"
"Before or after I remind you that you asked me to fly out here?"
"I did." He sips his coffee. "I appreciate it. That you came here."
"Okay, then." Nancy studies his face for a moment. "The thing, Derek. The thing."
"Just saying the thing doesn't mean I know what you're talking about."
Nancy sighs. "Fine. Just – listen, for once," she says, unfairly. "Addie wants you to choose her. Because of course she does. We all do."
"All," he repeats doubtfully. "All of you all want me to choose Addison?
"No. Well, maybe. But that's not what I mean."
"What do you mean, then?"
"I mean … it's not just love. Love is the easy part. We want to … be the center of someone's world. Have them be the center of our world. Someone to sacrifice for us … and with us, too."
He takes it in. "This is what women want, is what you're saying?"
"It's what Addison wants."
"She said – "
"No. Not here, to me, or anything like that. Just … things we've talked about. We used to talk all the time, you know."
"I know." He looks into his coffee cup again. Another reminder of how much they left behind in New York.
"And I get it," Nancy continues quietly, "because we're alike in that way, Addie and I."
He doesn't respond.
"Look, maybe it seems silly to you that I'm saying this when my husband couldn't sacrifice the minimal effort it takes to have the nannies watch all five of the children I pushed out of my . . . anyway." she pauses. "When John was first promoted to MD, I was pregnant with Matthew and Kyle was still a baby and they offered John a spot in Hong Kong. A better offer, a bigger deal."
Nancy pauses to study her left hand where it rests on the handle of her cup.
"I didn't want to go," she says, looking up again. "It was too far from Mom and from Kate and Lizzie and from the kind of practice I wanted and from shoe stores that actually carry my size. John wanted it, though. He wanted to go to Hong Kong. But we didn't go."
Clearly, but he doesn't interject.
"We didn't go," she repeats. "For me. John stayed in the New York office for me. He chose me."
Derek listens. He's listening, and processing what's really none of his business but he's listening just the same. He's hearing that sacrifices come in all sizes and marriages are sometimes different below the surface … and no one really knows what goes in another couple's life.
..
"You had coffee." Addison rests an arm on the nurses' desk as Derek and his sister approach, scanning both their faces to see what she can discern of their conversation.
(She's just curious. That's all.)
"We had coffee," Derek confirms. "And now I have patients." He leans in and kisses her cheek, then nods to Nancy. "I'll see you later."
Nancy waits a moment before she turns to Addison, propping a hand on her hip.
"You had coffee," Addison says approvingly.
"We had coffee. Derek has been . . . impressively tolerant, on this trip." Nancy smirks at her.
"Derek loves you," Addison says automatically.
"Of course he loves me." Nancy adjusts the collar of her blouse, which was already perfect. "He just prefers to love me across the country."
"He called you," Addison reminds her.
"Oh, I know." Nancy lifts an eyebrow. "It's his own fault I'm here. Which I suppose means … it must have been worth it to him."
It's more or less what Savvy said on the phone, and Addison takes it in.
..
"Your mother-in-law is in the hospital."
Addison whirls around, two patients later, to see Miranda Bailey looking up at her with a combination of interest and suspicion.
What was that Derek said? That his mother wanted to meet their … friends?
"You, uh, you noticed?" she asks smiling weakly.
"I noticed." Miranda's eyebrows lift. "And how is it … having your mother-in-law in the hospital?"
"It's fine. It's great." She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear." … it's weird."
"There it is." Miranda looks amused now.
"She wants to meet our friends. What good can come of that? Who even are our … ." Her voice trails off. "You don't look surprised."
"I have a mother-in-law." Bailey studies her face for a moment.
Ah.
"So you understand."
"So I understand. And I met your mother-in-law."
It's a pleasing inference, is Miranda their friend? She'd like to think so.
"Now you're talking." Bailey points the chart in her hand in Addison's general direction. Her pager goes off then; she glances at it and then executes an impressively exaggerated eye roll. "Excuse me while I go try to find out why it's always one of my interns … ."
..
This is a work day.
Which is a good thing, because she's good at work.
People respect her at work.
She's a professional at work.
(And if she sometimes semi-loses it at a …. work prom … and tells a hundred people about her pregnancy, that's recoverable.)
But right now the hospital is full of Shepherds. Three generations of Shepherds.
Shepherds who want to meet their friends.
Which is why, rounding the corner and seeing Nancy pinning Meredith Grey, and Cristina Yang in her intimidating sights … she should just turn around and walk the other way.
Leave them alone.
Let them be.
She has enough to worry about.
Except Meredith glances up and – damn it.
It's too late.
She's going to be the subject of a brand new pregnancy book. Psychic Bonds with the Husband's Former Mistress: Are They the Key to a Painless Delivery?
(Fine, that second part is just wishful thinking.)
But she can't have made up the expression on Grey – Meredith's – face, caught in Nancy's snare.
So she speeds up, heels clacking the floor, one hand protectively over her bump – sorry baby, Mommy's got to hurry to save some not-that-innocent interns from Aunt Nancy – but when she gets there, to her confusion, neither Meredith nor Yang seems to be in imminent need of rescue.
On the contrary, they appears to be deep in conversation with Nancy.
Maybe her psychic mistress-clairvoyance needs some work.
" … which is another reason Burke's mother hates me," Yang is saying as Addison approaches, while the other two nod knowingly.
"Before we got married, John's mother said I was too skinny and not set up for birthing." Nancy makes a dismissive gesture, but her expression makes clear what she thinks of that term. "I showed her, though, wouldn't you say, Addie?" she adds, turning to her sister-in-law.
Addison nods. Yang looks suspicious but there's no reason why she would know . . . "She has five children," Addison explains.
And now Yang looks as nauseated as Addison felt during the first trimester.
"There you go, Cristina. Just have five children, and Burke's mother will come around."
"Bite your tongue." Yang turns to Meredith, who laughs, then back to Nancy and Addison. "I'm not having children."
There's a fraction of a second in which Addison, Meredith, and Cristina – because she was Cristina when she was a patient on the table in Addison's OR – share a memory no one will tell Nancy.
Then it's Yang who breaks the silence, glancing at Addison's no longer subtle at all bump. "No offense," she says in the bump's general direction, then glances up at Nancy. "But yeah, five, really? Like, on purpose, really?"
Nancy smirks. "Truly."
Yang shudders again.
"But you weren't an intern … ." Meredith's voice trails off as Addison glances at her sister-in-law.
"I wasn't," Nancy assures her. "I would have been, with my first, but I wasn't. I took a year," she explains. "I did postgraduate research. My internship was waiting for me when I finished."
Yang's face is white. "You postponed your internship?" she asks with horror, in the tone one might expect to hear you sold your firstborn to pirates?
"My internship could wait." Nancy shrugs. "My baby couldn't wait. It was my choice," she adds.
The key word: choice, but Addison isn't sure Yang can hear her over the sound of her own disapproval of said choice.
"I wasn't the only OB in my class who got pregnant during residency. You can't always wait for the right time."
Addison swallows. It's not Nancy's fault that that particular aphorism – true though it may be – was tossed around in more than one unpleasant marital spat on the topic.
You can't always wait for the right time, Derek warned her as their when-will-you-be-ready conversation turned more heated. That's Nancy's line, Addison retorted, and Derek just shrugged. Maybe Nancy has a point. Addison was irritated, she recalls this, pushed away the glass of wine that wasn't really helping: So marry Nancy, then. I'm sure the fishing's great in Appalachia. She's not sure what happened after that – more arguing, more pushing, one in many loaded back-and-forths that turned a topic that was once exciting into something incendiary.
And not in the good way.
The kind that can burn down a marriage.
Nancy gives her a sidelong glance, maybe remembering.
Of course, an OBGYN residency isn't the same as a surgical residency, which is obvious enough to everyone present that no one brings it up. Addison rests a hand over the spot where her own unexpected pregnancy is developing. There's no question that the right time, by any objective measure, would not normally involve two barely-getting-along adults living in a trailer in the woods, keeping secrets from each other and keeping their distance, too.
But that was then … and this is now.
"But then you started your internship," Yang prompts, apparently still stuck on Nancy's unconventional career path. "Uh, you did actually finish it, right?"
"No, I bought a medical license online." Nancy raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell my chief."
Yang looks like she finds sarcasm far more reassuring than anything to do with choosing babies over internship.
Meanwhile, Meredith is looking at Nancy with an expression Addison can't quite identify. "How did you manage it? Internship and residency and then … did you ever see your kids? I'm just asking," she says hastily, perhaps seeing Addison's face. "My mother was a surgeon," she adds, presumably for Nancy's benefit.
"Surgery is different," Nancy says after a moment, Yang nodding in vigorous support.
"Nancy saw her kids," Addison adds, letting a note of defensiveness creep into her voice. "She's a wonderful mother."
"I'm an adequate mother," Nancy corrects her, spots of color on her cheekbones. "And I had help, of course."
Nancy's husband – he was never the warmest, but he always seemed supportive in his way. He certainly wasn't the most hands-on when it came to childcare, but in all the time Addison knew them, he never begrudged Nancy her professional obligations or accolades. In a world of bankers whose wives stayed at home or dabbled in part-time vanity careers, he never minded Nancy's commitment to medicine. If anything, he seemed proud. And at the beginning, certainly, his far more lucrative career supported their growing family.
"Burke's mother didn't need any help," Yang says darkly.
And we're back to that.
"… which is one of the many reasons I'm not good enough for her perfect son."
"Without help? Oh, please." Nancy waves a hand dismissively. "My mother was a single parent for years, working nights, and even she wouldn't say you're supposed to do it without help."
Meredith is looking curiously at Nancy. "I didn't know your parents were divorced."
"Divorced?" Nancy looks confused now, then glances at Addison. "What do you – oh. No, she was widowed."
Meredith's eyes widen. "I'm sorry," she says quickly, glancing at Yang. "I didn't know."
"Yes, well. It was a long time ago." Nancy clears her throat, then her expression changes. "Speaking of the devil … " she says, very quietly.
With good reason: Addison turns to see Carolyn Shepherd making her way toward them with her characteristic walk: part drill sergeant, part mama duck.
Great.
..
"Shepherd!"
He turns around to see Richard striding toward him. His face is more no-nonsense boss than warm mentor, so Derek responds accordingly.
"Chief?"
"Shepherd, is your … family … in my hospital again?"
Derek considers the question. "You mean in addition to the ones on your payroll?"
… okay, maybe not his best respectful tone, but he did try.
"Shepherd."
"Chief. My mother and sister are still in town. I'm sure they're not bothering—"
"Your mother came to my office."
"Oh," he says faintly. "Was she, uh, was she looking for me, or … ."
"She was looking," Richard says stiffly, "for me."
"Oh." He glances at the chart in his hands. "Actually, Chief, I have a patient, so –"
"She seemed to think," Richard continues as if Derek hasn't spoken, "that I needed a lecture on how to select the next chief."
Derek feels his face flush. His mother has always been supportive of his career, but seeking out the chief to push her son's promotion? That's a bridge too far even for Carolyn Shepherd.
"I'm sorry about that. She's, uh, I'm sure she was just trying to help."
"To help by telling me who should replace me as chief of surgery?"
"I'm sure she didn't mean –"
"Competition wastes time," he recites, and Derek flushes again as he recognizes some of his mother's favorite lines when she lectures her children. "Competition just encourages your people to compare themselves to each other, and if you spend your time comparing yourself to others … "
" … then you'll never be happy," Derek fills in. "Yeah. She's, uh, she's – "
"And I assume you do want happy people to work for you?" The chief pauses. "Happy people, Shepherd! Happy surgeons! Do I look like I want happy surgeons to work for me?"
"You do not look like you want happy surgeons to work for you. Sir," Derek says quickly when he realizes an answer is actually expected.
"Thank you." Richard clears his throat. "And then to go so far as try to tell me who the best candidate it. Me! The current chief. Telling me who the best candidate is!"
Derek smiles weakly. "I'm sorry, chief. My mother … she supports her son."
"Her son?" Richard's brows lift. "Shepherd, are you under the impression that you are your mother's first choice for chief?"
..
"Mom!" Nancy smiles broadly and Addison does the same, praying that meet your friends won't extend so far as to make things worse with the two interns.
Her mother-in-law seems to have other business, though, intent on catching them up.
"Well. I had a very interesting conversation with your chief of surgery." Carolyn gives Addison a meaningful look. "And I think he may have seen the light about his little … competition."
Addison's heart sinks. "You, uh, you talked to Richard about the chief's race?" she asks faintly.
"Someone had to." Carolyn pats Addison's arm. "He doesn't have his own mother anymore to advise him, so I did my best. Now," she says briskly, turning to the two interns, "aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?"
Nancy and Addison exchange a look.
"They're actually …."
"We're not … " Yang starts.
An awkward silence falls.
"She's getting married," Meredith blurts, pointing to Yang, who glares at her.
"Are you? How wonderful! Congratulations, dear!" Carolyn smiles at her. "When is the wedding?"
"Um." Yang looks pained.
"Soon," Meredith offers vaguely, "but actually, we don't –"
"Weddings are wonderful," Carolyn says brightly, "but the marriage is far more important, of course. A wedding takes a moment, but a marriage lasts a lifetime. Marriage isn't always easy, but few things that are truly worth it in life are easy."
"Who died and made her a fortune cookie?" Yang mutters to Meredith, just loud enough for Addison to hear but not the others, and she frowns in response.
"Thank you," Meredith says volubly, turning toward Carolyn. "That's, uh, that's very good advice. I know Cristina appreciates it."
Yang, for her part, seems to be trying to smile, but it comes out looking more like bared teeth.
"Well. I'm glad to hear it." Carolyn looks at Yang. "Then I hope you'll forgive me for speaking plainly –"
Addison braces herself. In her experience, this usually heralds something awkward.
" – but I hope you'll remember how important it is to start a family sooner rather than later."
Awkward.
Addison rests a hand on her own geriatric pregnancy and wonders how hard it would be to fake an emergency page.
Yang, for her part, is staring suspiciously at Derek's mother.
"Did Burke's mother pay you to say that?" she demands.
Carolyn frowns. "Who's Burke?"
"Her fiancé," Nancy offers, glancing at Yang. "He's very handsome," she adds, which understandably doesn't seem to satisfy her mother.
"His name sounds familiar … ." Carolyn purses her lips.
Addison crosses the fingers of one hand behind her back.
"I'm not sure where I've heard it before … ."
And then, for good measure, she shoves her blackberry into the pocket of her white coat so she can cross the fingers of her other hand too.
"That's it!" Carolyn snaps her fingers. "He's the other doctor competing for chief," she says triumphantly, looking to her daughter-in-law for confirmation.
Weakly, Addison nods.
Carolyn is silent for a long moment; Addison can just see the wheels turning in her head.
But all she says is: "How exciting. suppose you have a busy year ahead, then." Carolyn pauses, looking at Yang.
Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it.
"I'm just saying, dear … you won't always be this fertile."
She said it.
"I hope not," Yang says, so deadpan that Carolyn actually seems unsure what to say next. Meanwhile, Addison toes the floor with one pump and prays it might be willing to swallow her up – not a lot, just enough to get her out of this conversation and maybe down to the cafeteria, since she wouldn't mind sharing one of those baseball-sized blueberry muffins with her carb-hound of a baby right about now.
But hey, the thing about a conversation this awkward?
At least it's rock bottom.
At least it can't get any more awkward.
… and then Carolyn turns to Meredith.
"What about you, dear? Are you seeing anyone special?"
Yang coughs meaningfully.
Nancy clears her throat.
Addison closes her eyes.
"Ooh, Mom, look at the time." Nancy gives her wristwatch a perfunctory glance. " – we really should get going." She takes her mother's arm. "Addie?"
"Coming."
Sorry, she mouths over her shoulder as she follows her sister- and mother-in-law down the hall, thinking that at the very least she might no longer be the Shepherd who made the most awkward Seattle entrance.
..
"Tell the truth. You'll be glad to see us go."
Nancy's dark eyes are sparkling mischievously.
"You know how much I've missed you." Addison leans forward, giving her sister-in-law an impulsive hug. "And the girls. All the kids."
"And Mom?" Nancy raises an eyebrow.
"Mom too."
"Except maybe she didn't need to log quite so much hospital time."
"Exactly." Addison tucks her long hair behind her ears. "But I'm going to miss you," she says quietly. "All of you."
"Well." Nancy pats her neat rolling suitcase. "It's not such a long flight."
They smile at each other, and then Nancy pauses.
"She didn't know about Dad."
Addison nods; no need to define she.
"And I don't even mean the store –" the tactful Shepherd euphemism for what happened that terrible day – "I mean that he died at all."
"I know."
Addison saw the expression on Meredith's face – confusion, neatly covered, and a little embarrassment when she realized her incorrect assumption of divorce. Not that it's Meredith's fault – of course it's not.
She never really gave it thought before, is the thing.
It's just that when she arrived in Seattle, Addison was so much more focused, when making a play for her own husband's affection, on how little Derek knew Meredith … that she never really pondered just how little Meredith knew Derek.
The thing is time. The decades and decades of a life that can't be siphoned out in a fling.
Derek and Meredith dated, charitably speaking, for a period of months. Three months. Addison has spent more than fifteen years with Derek: from intimate one on one time where they learned each other better than she's ever known anyone, to crowded, clamoring family time that knit her up irretrievably into the larger Shepherd clan. Three months into Addison's relationship with Derek, they still hadn't taken final exams their first year of medical school. There were four three-month periods in each year they'd known each other. She doesn't do the math – doesn't need to – she's just struck by the sheer comparison.
She didn't learn about Derek's father right away. By the time he brought her home with him that first Thanksgiving, she was aware that Derek's mother was a widow, that Derek lost his father at thirteen, and she didn't pry beyond that. A month or so later, when a nightmare woke first Addison and then Derek in the chilly dawn hours … he gripped her hand tightly under flannel sheets and admitted the truth behind it.
That was just the beginning. A secret rarely has one telling—certainly her own life has shown that. As Amy's addiction began to spiral out of control, Derek admitted his fears that he didn't protect her sufficiently from the trauma that attended their father's death. Years later, after losing his first patient, she held him closely on a narrow call room bed while he whispered to her, in tears, the fear that he could have done better not just in the OR but that long ago day in his father's store. Could have somehow been faster, smarter, better, and fixed it. She cried too—she always cried, if he did, she couldn't help it—and told him he was wrong. You're not perfect, no one is perfect, you did everything you could.
How many times has she repeated those words over the years?
He was hers, from the perfectionist medical student to the perfectionist intern to the perfectionist resident to the perfectionist attending to the perfectionist department head. Always hard on himself, always somewhere between a guilt complex and a god complex, and always hers.
It takes years to know someone that well.
It takes tears and fights and sweat and determination and aggravation and fears and not quitting, anything but quitting.
She fell in love fast, too. She gets it. Three months in, Addison already loved him too.
But she didn't know him. She couldn't.
Now … she knows him.
To Nancy she just shrugs a little. "Well, he hasn't been in town that long," she offers vaguely, and her sister-in-law accepts it.
..
Alone in the lobby with a cup of herbal tea and the few crumbs of blueberry muffin her son allowed her to leave over, she ponders this … knowing.
And what it means to know things about someone that no one else does. The thing is, there's a spectrum, from the most mundane to the potentially humiliating to the dark and the deep. There's seventeen years and the vast assortment of things she's acquired.
A lifelong listmaker, she lists a few.
One. The motorcycle thing. That is, the real reason he doesn't ride motorcycles anymore. He likes to say it's the scar and sound all – rakish and daring or whatever, and the truth is she doesn't care as long as he never rides another motorcycle. Which is why when she stormed into the exam room to yell at him for the accident that caused the scar, and he told her defiantly that he wasn't going to stop riding for a little scratch, she wasn't having it. She took a deep breath and told him if he ever rode another motorcycle, he was never going to see her naked again. She was just angry enough to keep her promise, too, and he must have believed her because he never called her bluff.
Two. The hockey thing. Rakish? Not so much. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes. He told her, second year of medical school, about what happened on the hockey rink years before. About the brain injuries that inspired him toward a career in neurosurgery and the restitution he hoped to pay one day. As soon as student debt started translating into salary, he set up a fund. He didn't have to … but he did.
Three. The other scar thing … The chicken pox scar, small but easily located when you spend as much time learning each other's naked bodies as they did. On the back of his ribcage, left side, the result of finally giving up on oatmeal baths that intensely itchy kindergarten summer and just scratching the hell out of it with a wire hanger. Secretly, she thinks it's cute. Maybe their son will be resourceful like that. Determined. (She'll hide the hangers just in case.)
Four. The underwear thing. This one she knows he's never shared and she's not sure which of them it makes look worse but it's a memory that still makes her laugh and cringe in equal measure. It involves far too much vodka after far too little sleep and some ill-advised rounds of strip poker … followed by a dare (hers) for him to try on a pair of her underwear. It was red and lacy and he started to do it when she panicked and realized she'd never get over it if they actually fit him. So she snatched them back so quickly he fell over and that scar is somewhere no one else will see it.
Five. The uncle thing. The niece and nephew thing. The kid thing. His uncle persona is public but she's not sure anyone else knows it as well, because who else watched it so closely? Addison is a baby person, always has been, but even the cutest blue-eyed Shepherd eight-pounder is no match for how soft Derek's face looks cradling a newborn. So yeah, he was distracting, and yeah, she noticed things. Derek rocks left, probably so his right hand can cradle a small skull against his shoulder. His go-to rhythm is shh shhhh, not the more popular shh shh shh. In Old MacDonald, he always starts with frogs, ever since it made Katie laugh a hundred years ago. Frogs, then dogs, then back to the basic boring ones like horses and cows. But first frogs.
Six. The shark thing. He snuck into Jaws in the theater with Mark when they were kids (of course it was with Mark). And was so freaked out he slept under Lizzie's bed that night. And a couple nights after that. He got over that (which is good, because there wasn't room enough under there for both of them). The shark thing didn't vanish, though. He stuck rigidly to the water alerts every summer they spent together, refusing to go in the ocean when the sightings were too close to their beach and refusing to let her go in either, no matter how many times she tried to present her normally logical husband with statistical risk evidence.
Seven. The ferry thing. Seattle has a ferry system and she's surely not the only person who knows he has a thing for ferries. The only person who knows what he did on the ferry, back in New York? God, she hopes so, because she's pretty sure it's illegal in like … four different ways.
Eight. The doubt thing. Surgeons doubt themselves sometimes. Even great surgeons. They do it behind closed doors and maybe most of them do it alone but they did it together. They held onto each other and reminded each other that they were never, ever going to quit. Surgery was scary and failing was scarier and they were just kids the first time someone put a scalpel in their hands. They had doubts. Everyone has doubts. But they hid it because you have to and they told the world they were a hundred and one percent sure. Alone, together, they sometimes whispered those questions: what if? What then? But they were only for the two of them, and no one else.
Sixteen—almost seventeen—years of knowledge.
She could no more quit him than she could medicine, and if she did, would all those years of study and practice just disappear? They'd have to go somewhere.
He called Nancy.
He called Nancy, but he didn't tell her he did. He didn't want credit. He must have wanted something else, something that mattered more to him than the tension headache at the bridge of his nose Nancy was infamous for causing.
I need you to choose me, she told him.
The thing is, she knows him.
After all these years, she knows him.
She should have known that when he chose her … it wouldn't be with an announcement.
..
Three hours.
His sister's flight takes off in three hours.
Surely they can make it three more hours without any unpleasant surprises or finding out that his mother dropped into OR 3 to advise Burke on a complex CABG.
What he needs is focus.
What he needs is an intern, actually, to offload the charts he's holding. He can hear a gaggle of them behind a mostly-closed exam room door.
Don't you have work to do?
Oh god, he's getting old if that was his first thought.
He's not surprised that that interns are snatching rare downtime moments to catch up—certainly he and Addison and Mark were guilty of that, many times, so he's wiling to let it slide until he hears his own name.
Then he stops, fist half-raised toward the door, to listen.
"So you both met Derek's mom," he hears someone says—Stevens, he's fairly sure.
"We both met Derek's mom," says another voice. That one was Yang.
"Well? What's she like?" – Stevens again.
There's a moment of quiet.
" … we both met Derek's mom," Meredith says then, and he hears quiet laughter.
"Sounds like you dodged a McBullet there," Stevens says as Derek finally, pointedly, raps on the not-quite-closed door.
"Dr. Shepherd!" Stevens is blushing visibly. "We were just, um . . . . " She gives Meredith a desperate look.
"Well, don't let me keep you, then," Derek says pleasantly. "I was looking for an intern, but I think O'Malley might be free."
..
Two hours. Their flight leaves in two hours.
He thinks about what his sister said this morning, about his wife: she wants someone to sacrifice for her and with her.
And Addison, last night, in the car: I'd like to go with you. Yeah, um, even to the trailer.
He's kept his hands to himself and his kisses chaste—for the most part.
He's kept his word.
But Addison wants to be chosen?
Addison wants to be the center of someone's world?
What has he been doing, waiting for her to notice?
She's nearly twenty weeks pregnant. Almost at the halfway point.
And he doesn't want to waste another day.
If she hasn't seen it, if she hasn't realized it, then he's just going to tell her.
And if that's not enough, well, then he'll figure something else out.
He's not waiting any longer.
..
She's pacing the linoleum floor, half an eye out the sliding glass doors for the familiar faces of the extended Shepherd family.
He called her anyway. And he pretended he didn't.
"Addison."
She looks up, her cheeks coloring. It wouldn't be the first time she thought he could read her mind.
And then she draws a deep breath. Here we go.
"Derek. I, uh, I want to talk to you – it's nothing bad," she adds quickly.
Derek tilts his head, his eyes very soft. "Yeah … I want to talk to you too."
"Okay, then." She takes another deep breath, feeling almost shy. Glancing down at her watch, she realizes the time and sure enough – she recognizes Nancy's familiar walk heading up the path. "We should, um, we should probably meet Nancy and the others first. Say goodbye."
"Right." He nods.
"Right," she repeats. "Yeah. It can wait."
Derek nods again. "Well . . . I'm not going anywhere."
In spite of herself, a curl of warmth threads right through the middle of her. She swallows hard, looking at her husband. "And neither am I," she says.
..
Divide and conquer, Shepherd style. While his wife exchanges prolonged hugs with their nieces and promises to send them postcards with the Space Needle, to Nancy's smirking amusement, Derek follows his mother to a quiet bench just past the cafeteria.
"We have a little time," Carolyn announces, clearing her throat a bit. "I left a little time. I wanted to talk to you, son."
He nods, not sure where this is going.
"I wanted to tell you … that I'm proud of you."
Derek studies the view over his mother's shoulder, across the sound. He's a little embarrassed. He feels … undeserving.
"You didn't run from your problems," she continues.
"What about Seattle?"
"You ran here. And I did think you were running from your problems," his mother admits. "At first I did. But I was wrong. You did run here, but then . . . so did Addie. Even Mark ran here."
"Don't remind me."
His mother pats his arm. "Take your time, son. There's no rush. But I think Mark will still be there when you decide to forgive him."
"Who says I'm going to forgive him?"
"Just a feeling from an old woman."
"You're not old," he says automatically.
"I'm old," his mother corrects him. "And who says that's a bad thing, growing older? You always wanted to grow up."
Up, not old, but he doesn't make the distinction. Not out loud, anyway.
"You can't have one without the other," his mother announces, as if she's read his mind again like she used to when they were small and she had to figure out which one of them left the ice cream half-melting on the counter or forgot to take out the trash.
"It's not easy, what you're doing." She studies him for a moment. "Fighting for something important. Your family . . . your wife and your child . . . there's nothing more important." She pauses. "Your father would be proud of you too."
He feels heat building behind his eyes and can't quite bring himself to look at his mother's face. There's a particular way she's always looked when she talked about his father and he's not sure he can handle it right now. Not when his own fatherhood has been hanging in the balance these last months.
"Derek," his mother says gently, and he forces himself to look at her.
"Your father was a fighter." She fishes a handkerchief out of her handbag, dabbing at her eyes. "And so are you."
He swallows hard, letting his mother embrace him.
She draws back. "Well, then – oh, one more thing, before I go." She reaches into her pocket. "I want to give you something."
"I thought only Addie got the presents on this trip," he teases her, happy to lighten the mood.
"My children always keep score." Carolyn shakes her head ruefully, and then Derek sees she's holding a small velvet box.
He takes it from her when he realizes it's what she wants, and looks inside.
"It's a ring," he says, confused.
"It's a ring. Well. It's not just a ring," she corrects herself. "It's . . . your father always wanted you to have it," she continues quietly. "I was saving it for when you met the right girl."
..
" … but that's just for vet Judy," Claire is explaining, ticking accessories off on her little fingers. "And Lilly has the puppies, but not the gerbils. Maddy has the guinea pigs, though." Claire pauses. "Gerbils are not the same as guinea pigs," she says gravely.
"See, Addie, all the fun facts you miss being on the other coast?" Nancy grins at her. "Claire, honey, finish up so we can get –"
"I'm not done with my snack!" Claire cries, outraged. Lilly throws a hand over her own snack in case it's also in jeopardy.
"My mistake. Can you forgive me?" Nancy rolls her eyes. "Addie … you sure you want one of these?"
Addison looks at her nieces' sweet faces—scowling as they guard their snacks with their lives, but still … sweet.
"I'm sure," she says.
..
His mother's words are echoing.
Your father wanted you to have it. I was saving it for when you met the right girl.
Derek tilts his head, confused. "I don't understand."
"I was saving it," his mother repeats, sounding defensive.
"Saving it for what?" Derek turns the ring over in his hand.
"Your father wanted me to – "
"I heard you the first time," he interrupts, not bothered when she lifts an eyebrow at his tone. "I've been married for eleven years," he reminds her.
"I know that."
"Almost twelve."
"I know, dear. I was at the wedding."
"But this ring wasn't at the wedding." He stares at it.
He knows his wife and his mother are cut from different cloth, but he's never thought, as Addison sometimes laments, that his mother doesn't like her.
And yet –
"I was saving it," Carolyn says now, looking resolute. "And I know you've been married eleven years, honey, of course I know that, but this is different. Things are different now. This is your first child."
Derek's eyes widen. "So it's not the right girl until you have a baby?"
His mother looks unconcerned with this interpretation. "It's a lovely ring, you know."
"I already proposed with a lovely ring."
She's still wearing it, too. She showed up back in Seattle wearing and she never stopped wearing his rings. Not after Christmas when he admitted his feelings for Meredith or after Mark showed up the first time or after Mark showed up the second time, not when she packed her things over his wan objection and moved out of the trailer, not when she told him with what he knew took immense strength of will that she couldn't let them drift back together again until he actively chose her.
The rings were a constant. She already chose him.
And the absurdity of a ring showing up nearly thirteen years after he proposed to his wife . . . a ring waiting for him to find the right girl?
"I don't mean anything against Addie," his mother says quietly. "I love Addie, you know that, I just – "
She doesn't finish the sentence.
He just stands there, trying to make sense of all of it. He wants to say thanks anyway, to hand it back for the insult that his mother thinks she needs to tell him Addison is right for him.
(And he realizes he's been anything but certain in the past, that his mother knows some of the ugliness between them – though not all of it – but she also knew them when they were young and in love and had the world in front of them, and still . . . no ring.)
Swallowing hard, he offers the ring back to her. "Thank you," he says. "But I already bought a ring, when I met the right girl. I don't need another one."
His mother's expression is hard to read. "Son. Don't be hasty – "
"I'm not."
She sighs. "I should have . . . described it differently."
Describing something differently doesn't change anything.
But his mother's shoulders are faintly stooped, her voice husky with emotion and guilt washes over him. His elderly, widowed mother – as much of a pistol though she may be – offering him something from his father, and watching him turn it down?
His pride is keeping him from reaching out for it again, even as a small part of him he's ignoring whispers what should have been obvious: Addison wouldn't want you to give the ring back. She'd want you to have something of your father's. She'd want you to have it more than she'd be insulted by what your mother said. More than she'd want you avenging her feelings.
There's a tickling ache in his throat when he realizes the truth of it. Of course she would accept it. And yet . . . his job should be to defend her anyway. He swallows.
"Mom – "
"Forget what I said." His mother's eyes are bright with tears. "It's an old – but forget it. Forget the reason. I'd still like you to have the ring, Derek. To have something of Dad's."
Derek doesn't say anything.
"You don't have the watch anymore," his mother reminds him gently.
He looks down. His mother gave the watch to him; he, in turn, gave it to Amy when she was recovering, to give her strength.
There was history behind that watch, painful history, but Amy never questioned the gift of it.
Wordlessly, he holds out his hand, and his mother puts the ring in his palm. It feels warm, as if someone has been wearing it, and he stares at the metal shape of it.
"Your son won't get to meet his grandfather," Carolyn says quietly. "But he will meet the right girl, one day … and you can give him this ring then."
He looks up. His mother's face is slightly blurred.
"I think your father would like that."
..
Finally, it's time.
The hours have ticked down to minutes and final goodbyes are taking place in the pleasantly balmy air outside the hospital.
"Christmas," Carolyn prompts, "I know you couldn't make it last year, but I want everyone home for Christmas next time."
Derek and Addison exchange a glance. "Mom . . . the baby's due the second week of December. I don't think Christmas in New York is in the cards this year."
"Which means Thanksgiving is out, too," Carolyn sighs.
"Maybe we can visit earlier in the fall," Addison blurts, not really sure why – something about her mother in law's sad expression and the fact that she's missed east coast foliage more than is strictly sensible for someone who spent much of her time indoors.
Derek raises an eyebrow at her. What, she mouths, and he just smiles.
"That's a wonderful idea, dear." Carolyn beams at her. "You know, I spoke to – girls, Grandma is trying to talk to Aunt Addie," she interrupts herself as Lilly and Claire clamor at her side, talking over each other about the upcoming airplane ride.
"Sorry," Lilly says, sounding medium-sincere, Nancy in miniature.
Claire, undeterred, tugs on her grandmother's hand. "Will you sit next to me, Grandma? And can I eat your snacks?"
Addison exchanges an amused glance with Derek. To her credit, their niece did pause for breath between the two requests, though it didn't make them seem any less linked.
"We'll see, sweetheart." Carolyn seems to be failing at sternness as she readjusts Claire's dark curls, then looks fondly at Lilly, whose arms are folded and whose small Nancy-esque face is set in a scowl. "Maybe we'll all take turns," she says, and Lillian brightens at this better offer.
Nancy bustles up then, apologizing for the delay and hustling everyone toward the waiting black car.
"John's miles," she mutters quickly, presumably for Derek and Addison's benefit, before they can say anything in front of Carolyn.
And then there are hugs and kisses – "come back soon, okay?" Claire whispers over Derek's shoulder as he holds her off the ground, loudly enough for Addison to hear and to have to blink back tears.
"Addie . . . it was good to see you," Carolyn says when she stoops a little to embrace her mother-in-law and Addison is a little embarrassed to find herself emotional again.
It's not her fault. It's the necklace, and the picture, and the little girls beaming up at them, and the way her mother-in-law is already casting the same fond glances at the bump concealing her latest grandson that Addison has watched her give all the others, in- and ex-utero. The fear that her son would be ostracized or less than in the Shepherd family wasn't one she'd articulated fully to herself, much less to Derek. Nor had she prepared herself for Carolyn's surprise visit.
Yet somehow, after the surprise and the stress and the scattering of secrets in the hotel and the not-quite-perfect news at the fetal echo and the decidedly awkward insistence that her mother-in-law meet their friends … the visit was positive.
And Addison feels more positive than she has in a long time.
Not just positive.
Something else, something warmer.
Something that's not unrelated to the all too brief conversation with Derek. The one they're going to pick up once the family leaves for the airport. Once they have nothing to distract them.
Well . . . I'm not going anywhere.
And neither am I.
A smile that she can't quite control spreads across her face.
And then Carolyn is bustling the girls toward the car while Nancy hangs back for a moment, readjusting her oversized purse on one narrow shoulder.
"Everything is going to be okay," she tells Addison quietly, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
"With the baby?" Addison glances at her.
"That too." Nancy squeezes her arm lightly. "I missed you, Addie."
"I missed you too."
She'll miss her again, she knows she will, it's just –
There it is again, that feeling.
Positive.
She feels . . . good.
Nancy is saying something to Derek now that Addison can't quite make out; she tunes back.
". . . and don't forget, Mom wants everyone to come over in September."
"She does?" her husband looks like this is news to him. "What happened to Christms?"
"She's turning 70 in September, Derek," Nancy reminds him bossily. "And how did she put it . . . now she has one more reason to celebrate."
Addison is touched all over again, resting a hand on her bump; without discussing it, the warmth of Derek's palm fits over it too. He gets it.
She opens her mouth to tell Nancy they can't possibly agree to fly across the country.
"Well, sure . . . we can do that," she finds herself saying instead. "Right, Derek?"
"Uh . . . yeah. If that's, uh, we'll talk about it." Derek glances at her.
"Just let me know, and I'll send you a link to my favorite compression stockings for the flight." Nancy makes a face. "Really, though, I hope you'll come. You know Mom isn't much of a party thrower."
"So this is Kate's idea, then."
Nancy nods. "But Mom isn't going to pass up a chance to have all the kids and grandkids and everyone in one place. She's inviting the world. All the in-laws. Everyone." Nancy sighs, then glances at Addison. "Including your parents, Addie."
"My parents?" Addison laughs a little. "That's, uh, that's sweet of her. I hope she won't mind when Bizzy sends their … polite regrets."
Derek nods.
"Actually, Mom told me Bizzy liked the idea," Nancy says.
Addison blinks, confused. "When did she ask her, at the wedding?"
"No, she said she spoke to her about the party just a couple of weeks ago. When Mom called Bizzy to congratulate her on becoming a grandmother."
Who was it who said we were all waiting for the other (expensive, very high-heeled) shoe to drop? #sorrynotsorry for the cliffhanger I've been waiting for. I hope you'll review and let me know what you think of the whole chapter rather than just throwing rainbow trout at me for the cliff. (Or at least, like, one non-cliff point.) Things are happening! Things are progressing! And as for that bomb Nancy dropped on the way out of town ... well, tune in next QPQ Sunday to see where that goes. Thank you as always for reading, I appreciate every one of you. See you next week!