In Every Lifetime

by BlossomOfSnow

Addison & Derek broke off their engagement right after residency, when Derek is accepted to a fellowship in Boston. Fast forward to the present and they're both accomplished surgeons. Addison, newly divorced, finds herself in Seattle Grace where Derek is an attending neurosurgeon who may or may not be over a certain redhead. ADDEK AU, with some MerDer and Mark. COMPLETED 12-31!

6. June

AN: Hello! Sorry this took relatively longer to post. The past week has been so busy, and with the delta variant pretty rampant all over, there's just so much work. Hope everyone is keeping safe and getting vaccinated!

This chapter is the longest so far. I'm sorry- I didn't realize until I uploaded. The word count is so much more than the usual. But it offers a glimpse of Addison and Derek in the past. The chapter is all Addison and Derek, with a bit of Mark, which I think is cute. Mark is one of my favorite characters, definitely.

To all those and read and reviewed the previous chapter, THANK YOU! Really and truly! I'm surprised by the interest in Timothy- you'll definitely see more of him in future chapters. :)

As usual, hope you guys take care!

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Manhattan, 1998

Addison knew there was something wrong the moment she walked into the door of their Manhattan apartment. She couldn't quite place if it was the thickness in the air, the way it was harder to breathe, or the invisible cloud of melancholy that seemed to infiltrate every corner of the home she shared with Derek.

She found him sitting at the dining table, looking so stricken and confused, Addison had to shift her eyes away. Quietly, she set her purse down and shrugged off her coat, sitting across Derek at the table.

They had had many immensely difficult conversations about Boston. Six weeks ago they found out that Derek had gotten into a neurosurgery fellowship at a Harvard-affiliated school in Massachusetts, and one at Weill Cornell in Manhattan. He had applied to Weill Cornell because it was Addison's first choice for MFM. Addison didn't even know he applied for the one in Boston. And that it was his first choice.

When they were applying for fellowships, they didn't really think the details through. Addison had maybe naively presumed they would stay in Manhattan. She loved New York and had no interest in moving. She was extremely blindsided when she found out Derek was very seriously considering Boston. He had mentioned it once or twice, in passing, without weight, perhaps only too keen on avoiding what could possibly be a taxing conversation. But he never gave any real indication that it was what he wanted.

And then the acceptance letters came, and there was no other choice but to confront the issue. He admitted he had applied to Brigham and Women's Hospital aside from Weill Cornell. Addison had applied to one hospital and one hospital only. Not only did she consider herself excellent enough as to apply for just one fellowship, but she was also determined to stay in the city. Her friends were there, Derek's family was within driving distance, and Weill Cornell arguably had the best MFM fellowship. But Derek? Derek wanted Boston. And when the acceptance letter came and he exhibited a confusion that nearly ripped Addison apart, it was clear they were not on the same page.

So they did talk. Angrily at first, and then maturely. Addison set aside her surprise and anger over Derek keeping the application a secret. They talked about the merits of staying in New York, where Derek's mom and sisters were. Where Mark was going to be taking his own fellowship. Where their lives were rooted and established and all the best opportunities would be. And they talked about why Derek wanted to move to Boston, what that fellowship program had that New York didn't, what Boston had that New York didn't. And more importantly, what was in Boston for Addison.

And then there came harder conversations after that. What would it mean for their relationship if Derek moved and Addison didn't. They were set to be married in two months. All the wedding preparations were coming through nicely—the venues were booked, the caterers were ready, the flowers and the dress and the tux were all underway. Were they willing the spend the first five years of their marriage shuttling back and forth between New York and Massachusetts? Addison was certain it wasn't how she envisioned married life to be—miles apart, tethered only by occasional weekends together, longing phone calls in the evenings, and maybe the occasional random weekday. Holidays weren't even guaranteed because their schedules were erratic. And what if Derek stayed in New York? Would he be happy? There was no doubt Weill Cornell's neurosurgery fellowship was just as prestigious, but Boston was his dream. Was he willing to give that dream up for the woman he loved?

And then there were talks that were less than mature—those where hurtful words were flung around. Like, you're being selfish Derek, answered swiftly by a you ever think you're being selfish too, Addison? And, you kept this a secret from the woman who is supposed to be your wife. Followed by, you're going to keep your future husband from going after his dreams? And it was in those fights which bared them both open that it was made clear they wanted different things. The magnitude of the difference was stark, clear as day. Addison wasn't interested in waiting another year to apply for a fellowship in Boston to be with Derek, nor was she even remotely interested in leaving New York behind. And Derek? Derek believed profusely that he would bloom the most in Massachusetts, where he wasn't constantly competing with Addison.

Derek's mother put that idea in his head. That Addison's skills were far too advanced that Derek was always going to be in her shadows, consistently competing with her to be the best at everything. In the beginning, Derek had no interest in outshining his amazing girlfriend. That just wasn't their dynamic. But in internship, when Addison exceled at nearly everything and he and Mark had to keep up, the competition began. Maybe subtly at first, and then it was full blown between the three of them. It was friendly, healthy competition—one that pushed them all to be the best surgeons they could be. But that competition planted a dangerous seed in Derek's mind—one that was unnecessary and immensely destructive.

But just as their previous conversations highlighted their differences, it also made abundantly unquestionable that they loved each other passionately. The hardship of deciding rested on Derek—New York and stay with Addison, or Boston and follow his dreams?

When Addison sat in front of Derek that day, she knew even without him speaking that things were about to shift dramatically between them.

"You're choosing Boston, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

Derek couldn't meet her eyes. He breathed slowly, carefully, as if too harsh a breath would betray him, open the gate he was trying desperately to keep closed.

"Boston has the best program," he rasped just as quietly, simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—all of their lives wrapped up in 5 short words.

Addison took in a sharp breath, biting her lip. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotions that were suddenly rushing at her—anger, hurt, denial, betrayal, an immense loss of direction and focus she didn't think was possible at this point in her life. She was ready—to settle down, to build a career, to share every moment, every little thing of her life with Derek.

There were many moments of tense silence after that, the only sounds filling the room were Addison's ragged breaths, a sorry attempt to calm herself down. They had fought about this many times before, with Derek oscillating between choices, unable to decide what he wanted. And here he was now, declaring his intent, telling her in not so many words that he was choosing himself. All the fight drained out of Addison completely.

"What does that mean for us?" she finally asked, eyes fixed on the wooden table and resolute on keeping her tears at bay.

Derek sighed. "Addie, you know I want to be with you. We're getting married. It will only be five years, and in between we can still see each other."

Addison shook her head incredulously, as if his suggestion was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. "Five years may as well be a lifetime," she replied. "Five years in Boston, and then what? Who's to say what comes next? That you won't want to stay in Boston, or move to another city?"

"Why do we have to know what happens five years from now? Why can't we just let our lives play out?"

"That's exactly the point, Derek," she said in frustration. "It's our lives. We're supposed to get married. We're supposed to be together. And you're telling me you want to spend the first five years of our married lives apart? Does that sound even remotely appealing to you? Does it even sound right?"

"But why does it have to be mutually exclusive?" he challenged. "Why can't I have both a career and a wife?"

"Are you even hearing yourself, Derek?" she asked in vexation. "You can't have your cake and eat it too. We are sharing our lives together, that means I matter too."

"I'm not saying that you don't," he answered indignantly. "Of course you matter, too. But we're both going to be making a huge adjustment—not just you."

"You think you'll be making a huge adjustment? You're the one who's going to leave—you're going to leave me here alone while you're off pursuing a fellowship you didn't even bother telling me about until last minute. You want to talk about who between us is making a bigger sacrifice?"

"It's not a competition," he shook his head. "Addison, we're going to get married. Our shared life is beyond the physical distance between us. And it most definitely goes beyond the next five years."

"That's another point. Shared lives. We're going to get married, share our lives together as husband and wife. But you went behind my back and made plans without telling me. How is that sharing our lives? How would you feel if I did that to you—planned my life out and didn't factor you in? Made such a huge decision without thinking of how it could affect us?"

They had been through all of that before. It was a recurring argument. Nothing they said was new. Derek never had anything placating to say because it was the truth. He did go behind her back. He did apply without telling her. He never mentioned or gave any inclination that he was serious about Boston. But he argued that he wasn't even sure he would get in—it was a prestigious fellowship and there were many applicants. He didn't want to cause friction when there was no need to.

When Derek didn't answer, Addison sighed. "I think… it's clear we aren't on the same page about what marriage means," she said slowly.

He shook his head. "Addie…"

"I don't want to have to ask you to choose between me or Brigham. That's not the kind of partner I want to be," she said tiredly. "But I won't wait around for you to choose me either. My career matters too. I matter too."

"Of course you matter," he responded helplessly. "Of course you do."

"Then why wasn't it important enough for you to mention to me that you wanted to move?"

"You were so excited about Weill Cornell," he answered lamely. "And I knew even before that you wanted to stay in the city. I thought if I mentioned it to you, you'd be disappointed."

The truth was he didn't want Weill Cornell. People at Weill Cornell already knew who Addison was, no thanks to the Captain and Bizzy's generous benefaction. But they also knew her because every attending they had worked with raved about her talent. She topped all of her exams and was a force in the OR. He was amazing too, but at Weill Cornell, he was going to have to get out of the shadows of his future wife. He'd never admit it to her, but he didn't believe his ego could take that. Boston was a fresh start for them both—a place where no one knew either of them and they were on equal footing.

"So you think I'm not disappointed now?" she asked rhetorically. "Derek… I think you severely underestimated my ability to understand… to give… And you underestimated my love for you."

"It's not like that."

"Derek, if you only knew how much I love you, you'd know I would never stand between you and your dreams. But you didn't… you just… you underestimated me," she replied, the sadness so consuming in her voice it made the air thicker between them.

Derek hung his head low. He did underestimate her. And perhaps, out of all the issues that arose from him wanting to move to Boston, it was the knowledge that he didn't trust her enough with his dreams that hurt her the most.

"When I agreed to marry you," she said gently, "I promised you I would make your dreams my own as well. That I would stand by you."

"Then stand by me," he replied quietly, unable to meet her eyes.

Addison sighed. "Standing by you can also mean loving you enough to let you go, so you can follow your dreams."

"Addison," he said looking up, suddenly alarmed.

She shook her head, trying to talk around the dryness in her mouth and the heaviness in her chest. "Derek, I could never forgive myself if I was the reason you didn't become all that you wanted to be in life. I just couldn't bear the thought." She looked up and fought to keep her gaze steady as she looked into his eyes. "Derek… your dreams are mine too. And if Boston is your dream, then… you should go for it."

"And what about us?" he asked worriedly, his foot fidgeting nervously under the table.

She bit her lip, eyes watering. "I want to be right by your side, I do," she assured him. "But I want Weill Cornell too."

He sighed, feeling his throat tighten and his stomach weigh heavy like lead. "Addie, we can make this work."

"Fellowship starts next month. You and I both know it will consume our time. It's hard work straight away. We get married two months from now—will you even make it to your own wedding?"

"Of course I will," he answered defensively. "Addison, you're acting like you're not important to me, too. You are. And I want you to be my wife, spend the rest of my life with you. It's only going to be five years. We can make it work," he repeated.

"And what if we can't?" she challenged. "Do you want to be a divorcee at 30?"

"Do you have so little faith in us?" he asked brokenly.

Addison sighed, her breathing hard, like there wasn't enough air in the room. "In 5 years, we'll be different people Derek. So much could happen in that time. We could grow apart. We already want different things now, who's to say what will become of us then?" She was already so used to having Derek around in her life, to go home to, to have breakfast and coffee and random moments in the hospital with. She didn't want to learn what it would be like without him—which was infuriating in itself because she was raised a Forbes Montgomery and she didn't need a man. But did she really want to learn to live her life without Derek?

"You know what I think? You're scared. You're scared to make such a huge commitment with so much uncertainty," he said. "But Addie," he continued, reaching out to take one of her hands. "We're DerekandAddison. We can make it through anything."

"How do you propose we get through the next years then?" she challenged. "Tired phone calls in the evenings? Maybe a weekend once a month? Driving back and forth between Boston and Manhattan for birthdays? Is that the kind of life you want, Derek? Is that even a marriage?"

"It's only five years," he said weakly, but he knew she was right. She was right to ask those questions, and right to assume that life would be immensely unpredictable during fellowship. And possibly beyond that too. But he had always assumed they could take on the world as long as they were together, that their relationship was strong enough to handle the distance, or anything else for that matter.

"Those five years can make or break us. It can destroy something so beautiful, so sacred—is that something you want to risk?" she asked in a tone so defeated, Derek had to remind himself to breathe.

"Addie, I would risk everything for you," he said swiftly, if a little harshly. Doesn't she know by now he would do anything for her? When she didn't reply, he exhaled slowly. "Ask me, Addison. Ask me to stay," he said urgently.

"Derek."

"Ask me and I'll do it. I'll confirm my slot at Weill Cornell and we can be together. All you have to do is ask."

"But I don't want to have to ask," she answered timidly. "I want you to do that of your own accord—and freely, at that. Wholeheartedly. Without question. Without regret. Can you do that, Derek? Can you choose to stay in New York and say with certainty you wouldn't hold it over my head? I know you Derek—you will sulk about this and in the end, it will destroy us. I don't know if I'm strong enough to watch what we have, something so pure, be destroyed."

Her relationship with Derek—it was the purest form of love she'd ever known in her life. She couldn't bear it if she allowed them to go the path towards destruction, a path that was so uncertain and painfully beyond her control. While it broke her heart many times over to even consider letting Derek go, to her, it was better to take control of things while it was early, while they could part ways on a lighter note than if they had allowed the distance to destroy them. She knew long distance relationships were possible, but she didn't believe it was a set-up she was willing to try, least of all as a newlywed.

Derek was silent. If she asked, he would do it, in a heartbeat. She could ask for the moon and he would give it to her. She could ask him to turn down Boston, and he would. But he wouldn't be happy. He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it wasn't what he would have wanted. He would never be able to find true happiness, or fulfillment, if she had asked and he had acquiesced. And then it was clear to him then what Addison was trying to say—that his dreams, his happiness, was paramount to her. And she loved him enough not to ask. Even if she desperately wanted to. Even if it was taking all of her not to beg.

"Standing by me… also means loving me enough to let me go," he repeated her words quietly, physically hurting to do so. He looked up then, his own eyes watering at the defeat in Addison's face. "Addie… what are we doing?"

Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "We're doing what's best for both of us."

"We can… postpone the wedding. We can take a step back. We can try the long-distance thing out, Addie, but please, don't give up on us so easily," he nearly begged.

"You think this is easy?" she whispered harshly, wiping away the rebellious tears that were flowing from her eyes.

He moved swiftly to her side of the table, taking the seat right next to her and then pulling her to him. "Addie. This cannot be how we end."

"Do you want us to end up resenting each other?" she asked, finally unable to keep the damn tears in check.

"I could never resent you. I love you."

"I love you too," she sighed, burying her face in his chest, waiting for the ache to ease but it was futile. "But maybe we need to love each other enough to know where to draw the line, to let the other go."

"Addison… I can't." This was his fiancée, his future wife, the woman he was so certain he was going to spend the rest of his life with. He couldn't even fathom breaking up.

But Derek also knew the gravity his career held. His and hers. And neither of them would have been content with compromising. If he asked her to move to Boston, to wait a year and apply for a fellowship there, she would most probably do it. But not without heartache. Not without doubt. She would follow out of love for him, and that was something he couldn't let happen. It would dull her sparkle, hurt her profoundly, and she didn't deserve that. Addison had watched as her mother loved her father blindly, looking the other way at the string of women he had in his bed. And he had promised he would never let Addison turn into her mother. He wanted her to be strong. Independent. Unafraid and unapologetic in the pursuit of her dreams and her career and anything else she wanted out of life. Never letting a man dictate how her life would go. If he asked her to move to Boston, he would, in a way, be just like the Captain. And oh, what little respect Derek had for that man. All the things he loved about Addison—her fierce loyalty, her confidence, her humor, how unapologetic she was to be who she was—they would all be severely compromised if he asked her to move.

"Derek… I don't want you to be afraid to go after the things that you want," she whispered. "Your mom didn't work two jobs to have you compromising on what you would have wanted out of life. Please don't let me be the reason you don't get what you've always dreamed of."

"I want you," he answered brokenly.

"I want you, too. But more than anything, Derek—I want you to be happy. Choose what will make you the happiest. I won't stand in your way. Whether it's with me, here in New York, or down there in Boston, go and don't look back."

"Maybe Weill Cornell's neurosurgery fellowship will—" he tried but she cut him off.

"You want Brigham. And they want you. You've said it yourself—it's a tough fellowship to get into. And you got in," she said, voice watery. "Derek," she continued, pulling back and cupping Derek's face between her warm hands, "I am so proud of you. So so proud of you, like you couldn't imagine. You said you've always dreamt of Brigham and now you got it. It's hard and it's painful, but believe me when I say that I am happy for you. That I'm proud of you."

He held on to her hands still cupping his face, eyes now brimming with tears. "Do you mean that?"

She nodded, smiling a little. "I do, Derek. I mean it. You work harder than anyone I've ever known. You deserve that spot. And you deserve to be the best damn neurosurgeon in the world."

He exhaled, his right hand unconsciously finding the ring he had placed on her left ring finger, fiddling with the reminder of so much promise, a shared future. He looked down, closing his eyes and breathing heavily. Was this really the right thing to do? Was he choosing right? He had agonized over this decision so many times. It had kept him awake most nights. He didn't think Boston would come at the expense of his relationship with Addison. He had naively believed she would play the supportive wife, not be her own person, not follow her own path. When he decided he wanted Boston, it was with the thought that Addison would probably be mad and disappointed as hell, but she would come around. But now, Boston without the safeguard of his relationship with Addison felt like a dirty choice, the wrong one. It felt like he was wrong to have dreamt. But here was Addison, assuring him that it was okay. Well, not okay—but that he was allowed to dream and follow those dreams.

"So what now?" he asked slowly, his finger still fiddling with the ring on Addison's hand.

Addison looked sadly at her ring, Derek's hands grazing over it gently. Nothing in the world was harder than this decision, this conversation. Was she letting the love of her life go? Should she just wait a year and follow him there? Was Weill Cornell worth it, if she was going to lose Derek?

"We need to make this decision together, Der," she answered quietly.

"If we… call the engagement off," he managed around the tightness in his throat, "will I still have you in my life?" he asked tentatively.

She smiled at him through the tears. "Derek, you will always have me. I'm your number one fan. And I will be rooting for you every step of the way. That won't change."

"So we'll still be friends?"

"If you'll have me," she answered, doing her best to muster a smile that she hoped looked moderately reassuring. "Derek, I love you, so much. Just so we're clear. Whatever we decide on tonight, we do it out of love for the other."

He nodded. "I love you, Addie."

Addison pulled her hands away from Derek's face but they held on to each other. They were quiet for many moments after that, both lost in thought, both pondering on a life without the other. Between the two of them, there was an immense amount of doubt and fear and longing. They had spent so much of their lives together. From their first year of medical school and ten years hence—they reached every milestone side by side. What would life be like without their solid, constant partner?

"Derek," she said finally, softly. "The ball is in your court."

He looked up and watched her, saw her attempts to school her face, to look braver than she felt, stronger than she felt, more reassuring than she probably had to be. He saw her eyes, filled with so much sadness, but also with pride and love and support he knew he didn't deserve. He was so imperfect; he didn't deserve Addison Montgomery. But for some reason, she loved him with a ferocity he had never before encountered in his life. Her love was a stronghold, a shield that protected him from the world. And he loved her the same way. He knew it was why the choice was so hard to make. But ultimately, it was the strength of her love that made him believe he could be anything, and it was the unconditionality of that love that allowed him to believe things would work out in the end, no matter the choice.

He bit his lip, eyes shining, his face so painfully contrite that in a moment Addison knew his choice.

She smiled at him through her tears. "You'll do great at Brigham," she whispered hoarsely. "They better get ready—Boston won't know what hit them."

Derek's tears fell then, and then he pulled Addison close for a long embrace, knowing it would probably be one of the last times he would hold her as his fiancée.

There was still so much left unspoken between them.

---

PRESENT DAY

Over lunch one day, Derek and Addison figured out they had the same day off that week. Derek offered to take her around the city, a feat he thought was timed well considering Meredith's recent let up on her crackdown on Addison. The ulterior motive, however, was to get her alone, so that they could finally talk.

The days leading up to their excursion, his mind flickered mercilessly to the night they decided to end things. In retrospect, it was a little anticlimactic. There were no glass vases broken or hurtful words flung around. It was civil and mature and filled with the kind of love they didn't think existed until then. He always thought his and Addison's love was mature, deeply rooted—it was only a natural conclusion to come to because they were together for so long. But love took on an entirely new meaning when they had to let each other go. Breaking off their engagement when he was so sure Addison was the one was hands down the hardest thing he'd ever had to do in his life, after burying his father. It was so hard that he had rarely spoken about it since it happened. Boston became a clean, fresh start, where no one knew he was licking a big wound and nursing a severely aching heart. He was under no obligation to talk about what he had gone through, and there was no one who asked. With the exception of his family who called and prodded constantly, and whom he ignored completely, no one in that city knew what he had to give up to get there. It wasn't a story he was willing to share with anyone.

For the first time in eight years, he was going to purposely open that big box of hurt and frustration and anger, and he was going to be doing it with the person who had made that box to begin with. It seemed only apt.

Derek took Addison to the Space Needle, took her up, let her see the view, and made small talk. If he was radiating an energy of anticipation, Addison was tactful enough not to point it out. But when they made plans for that day, it went without saying that this was the day. So they did the mandatory touristy things before Derek led her to the park just outside the Space Needle and took a seat next to her on a bench.

"Did you ever come to Seattle before moving here?" Derek asked.

Addison shook her head. "No. But I've been… invited… once or twice to come out."

"Yeah, by who?"

"Nancy," she said dryly. "She's blunt as ever, but she never once mentioned you were here. Looking back now, all those subtle hints to see the Space Needle was probably her way of getting me out here to see you."

"I'm guessing you weren't convinced she developed a sudden interest in observation towers."

"Nancy has a fear of heights," Addison replied with a roll of her eyes. "Remember she never took us up on any of our offers to brown bag it at the Empire State? So no, I wasn't convinced."

"Even if she said there would be viewfinders?" he teased.

"There are viewfinders in New York." And in her mind, at least at that time, everything was better in New York.

He nodded in agreement before he turned serious. "But… if she said I was here… would you have come?"

Addison was quiet, pondering the question. She didn't know Derek moved to Seattle, but if she did the math in her head, he would have moved right when she and Matthew announced their engagement. Derek had mentioned he moved to Seattle right away, after fellowship, so there was no mistaking the timing. Would she have come if she knew Derek was there?

"I don't know," Addison answered truthfully. "I mean… by the time you were here…"

"Matthew was in the picture," he finished for her. She nodded a little. "So you wouldn't have come?"

Addison bit her lip. When she agreed to marry Matthew, she wanted desperately for it to be the real thing. She believed he was the one—their 2 years of dating paling in comparison to the 10 she spent with Derek. But she couldn't handle another break up, and Matthew seemed to really love her. So she put on blinders and decided there would be no turning back. She ignored the voice in the back of her head that constantly reminded her of a certain dark-haired neurosurgeon who she still loved, and who she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

"To be honest, I still wouldn't know. I was engaged by the time you finished fellowship. And I was at this headspace where I couldn't take another broken engagement. I focused all my effort on making it work with him even if in retrospect, there were a lot of red flags."

"Like what?" he asked.

She smiled at him wryly. "Like how I constantly compared wedding preps with the one we had—the cake, the dress, the tux. The vision of our wedding was clear in my head, but with Matt… I just kind of went with it. He had his own vision, and I was willing to go along."

Derek nodded, taking it in. He could understand that. Addison didn't like failing, and a broken engagement was considered an immense failure on her part. And if he knew her, he knew that she was obsessed with coming back stronger after a fall.

"Did you… did you know I was engaged, when you finished your fellowship?" she asked tentatively.

He took in a sharp breath. "I did," he answered shortly. He had every intention of moving back to New York after his fellowship was done, to maybe test the waters out with her again, but decided against it when he found out about Addison's engagement.

Addison bit her lip and then nodded. "How did you know?"

"You'd think Nancy would have told me first. Or even Kathleen. But it was Mark, actually. He told me."

Addison nodded again. "And how did you… feel?"

He paused. "Devastated," he replied simply. Honestly. It felt like he was reliving the moment he found out again, the hurt so raw in his chest.

Addison had to suck in a breath at the intensity of Derek's answer—all of his feelings balled into a single word that pierced through her in a way she didn't know was still possible.

"Addie," he continued hoarsely. "You have to know what it was like after I moved. It was hell. The break up was a huge deal to me, and it took so much strength to get out of bed every morning. You don't know how many times I questioned the sanity of my decision to move to Boston, how many times I thought about quitting and coming back to New York to beg for you to be mine again. But I had hope, you know? I had hope that maybe, we'd cross paths again and we could make it work out. It was a small hope, but it was there. And when Mark called to tell me you were going to get married, it felt like all the life was drained out of me. I loved you so much, still—through my entire time in Boston. It was only you."

"If you loved me… why didn't you make any contact when you found out I was engaged? Why didn't you fight for me?"

He looked away. "For the very same reason you pushed me to Boston. I loved you enough to let you go."

Addison was stock still then. It seemed like a recurrent theme in their relationship—loving and letting go.

"I um…" she started. "When you left, I was a mess," she admitted. "You and I… we were together for so long, made too many memories. Every corner, every inch of New York held a memory. You were everywhere. You infiltrated every nook and cranny of that damned city that it was hard to just breathe sometimes. I wanted you in my life Derek, and I did what I thought would do that—even if it physically pained me, I called and I emailed and I messaged and I tried to reach out to you when you moved. You said we would be friends. But then you stopped responding, and I guess the message was quite clear. You didn't want me in your life anymore."

"It wasn't like that. It was so hard to talk to you, to think of you and not think about what could have been between us."

"It was so hard living in the city after you left," she admitted. The spark New York had, once electric, had dulled after Derek moved. "When everyone found out we had called off our engagement, it took everything in me not to pull my hair out from all those pitying looks I got. And people called. Constantly. Nancy and Kate and Liz and your mom and my mom and Amy and Archer and…. God. It was hard to keep relaying the story. You never answered their calls, and the job of explaining fell on my shoulders."

He nodded. He did pass off that job to her. The more irrational part of him was angry, too. Angry at her for not wanting to try. And if she didn't want to try, then she could do all the explaining. He knew it was difficult—just telling one person, Mark, about the break up was hard enough. He could imagine telling a hundred other people was no walk in the park.

"I'm sorry," he answered finally.

She shook her head. "You said you thought about quitting. About coming back to New York. Why didn't you?"

Derek sighed as he ran a hand through his thick hair. "Pride, maybe."

"Derek…"

"I didn't want to believe I had thrown away our relationship for nothing. That all that heartache we put each other through would be in vain. There were so many times I wanted to swallow that pride, Addie. But, I don't know. Maybe I was scared too. Scared that you'd moved on, that you wouldn't take me back."

"If you came back, you know I would've…"

He shook his head. "What about Matthew?"

She sighed tiredly. "I didn't date him until 3 years after we broke up. He'd been trying for a while, but I just couldn't. I wasn't ready. I was still hung up on you, and yeah maybe, just like you, I thought we'd end up together at some point."

"I didn't date anyone seriously," he admitted. "I would go on one or two dates but I wasn't really interested."

She nodded. "I still loved you, for years after you left."

"But then you found Matthew," he replied, unable to keep the twinge of bitterness in his voice.

"It just seemed like the right time to pick myself up from the gutter. I had been living in a lot of denial and regret and sadness, and one day I just decided I had to get over it and move on. So when Matthew asked again… I said yes."

"I was so hurt after the break up," he replied. "But I was also a lot of things aside from hurt. I was sad, and I was angry and frustrated. I was mad at myself for letting you go. Mad at you for not trying to fight for us. And just… mad at the world. I really, honestly thought we could have worked it out, you know? Long-distance wasn't impossible. And you didn't want to try at all. I was so angry at you for letting me go so easily. I questioned whether it was right for me to have wanted to move to Boston, and I wondered so many times, if I had told you I applied, if we could have come to a more rational decision where we wouldn't have to be apart. I was wrong for keeping that application a secret. Even if I didn't think I'd get in, I should have told you. You were right—we were going to be husband and wife, and I should have told you everything."

"Do you regret it though?" she asked quietly. "Moving, I mean."

Derek sighed. "Back then, I regretted it the moment I got into the jeep and started driving down to Boston," he answered truthfully. "But looking back… I don't know. Maybe I always will, to some extent. But I won't deny Boston opened many doors for me and I grew while I was there."

She nodded in agreement. "You shouldn't regret it," she said. "There's no need to. You've earned the most amazing skill while you were there. And you have Meredith now. You're happy with her. You'd never have moved to Seattle and met her if we got married."

"And you'd never have married to Matthew if we didn't break up," he supplied. And then he sighed. "Do you regret it? The break up, I mean."

She licked her lips. "You said I let you go so easily, but I didn't. It wasn't easy. I wanted to beg you to stay. But begging has always been beyond me, and I didn't want you to compromise on your aspirations. But I'll admit I'd never felt so betrayed in my life than when I found out you applied to Brigham without telling me."

"I blindsided you."

"You did," she agreed with a rueful smile. "I think if you gave me more time to warm up to the idea, things would have played out differently. But you hid it from me, like you didn't trust me, and that hurt me lot."

"I'm sorry," he managed.

She sighed. "I'm sorry you thought I let you go without a fight. That I wasn't willing to try the long-distance thing. I just… at that time, I trusted you so much, and then when I found out you did that thing behind my back, a seed of doubt was planted and it just became this ugly thing where I didn't think we could survive the distance because we didn't trust each other. I didn't trust you not to lie to me again, and you didn't trust me enough to disclose to me your very life-altering plans," she continued wryly.

"But did you regret it?" he asked again.

"Every single day," she answered. "I was mad at you too. But I loved you so much and I wanted us to work it out. But then you stopped answering my calls and it was hard to pine for you when you didn't seem like you wanted me in your life anymore." She paused. "But I don't regret it now. Or, I don't know. Matthew was good to me, and I loved him too. If we didn't break up, I wouldn't have had those years with him."

Derek was quiet then, thinking of Addison's words, thinking of how the past played out, how it had affected their future. If he and Addison didn't break up, it's true he wouldn't have moved to Seattle, wouldn't have met Meredith, wouldn't have blossomed outside of her shadow. And Addie? She wouldn't have met Matthew, wouldn't have married him and made beautiful memories with him. But she wouldn't be going through this kind of heartache too.

"You were so hellbent on Boston," she continued on a sigh. "I understand it was your dream, but I still don't understand why. What did Boston have that Weill Cornell couldn't offer you?"

Derek shrugged, unable to meet her questioning gaze. "The chance to be a surgeon of my own accord."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. He was finally going to admit it. "Addie, you were amazing from the get go. Attendings were talking about your skill as early as internship. You were a prodigy. And I was proud of you, I was, but I don't know. It also felt like I was in your shadow. We weren't on equal footing, Addison. You came from a prominent family and you had your privileges, but more than that, you were so smart and so good. I wasn't jealous, but I wanted to be more than just Addison Montgomery's boyfriend."

This was news to her. She had never before heard of Derek's insecurity. He had never opened up to her about his need to break free from her.

"Boston would have been a clean slate for both of us," he continued. "If you had moved with me, no one would know us and we'd establish ourselves from the ground up. But in New York? People already knew of you even before you applied for residency and fellowship. You were a sure in wherever you applied. I wasn't. And I wanted to be worthy of you."

"So, what? Boston was a way to feed your ego? To feel better about yourself? Derek, you're amazing. How could you even think I thought of you in any other light? Or that I cared about what other people thought? I never thought of myself as better than you—in my eyes, you were Derek Shepherd. Not Addison Montgomery's boyfriend," she sighed, feeling a little frustrated, like it even mattered now what she thought. "I have always been your number one supporter—I believed in you so much."

"Yeah but… you were really good. And maybe that ate at my self-esteem," he admitted sheepishly, regretfully. "I guess, in way… I needed Boston for myself."

She shook her head. "I won't apologize for the level of proficiency I had at that time, Derek," she said disapprovingly, knowing she wouldn't have purposely failed just so Derek could feel like he won. "But in my eyes, you were just as good, if not better. I never saw you fail—I don't understand where this all came from."

He shrugged. "I never told you because I couldn't admit it to myself either. That I was insecure about how far you've come, how smart you were, how skilled you were. That you were afforded so much privilege in life, with the captain on faculty and Bizzy doing what she does."

Addison sighed. She did have those privileges, but she would trade all of that for what Derek had—a family who loved him, who cared about him, who cared enough to call and say I love you, who expressed genuine interest in what he did and what he dreamed in life. He had a mother and a father and sisters who all loved him in their own ways. Modest though his upbringing may have been, it never mattered to her, and it never occurred to her it was an issue to him. But more than that, she worked just as hard as the next person. She never allowed life's privilege to make her complacent. If any, it pushed her harder—so that no one would ever think she was only successful because she was a Montgomery.

"If you had told me… I don't know. I mean, I wouldn't have purposely failed just so you'd feel good about yourself. But Derek… if you only saw yourself the way I saw you," she looked at him earnestly. "You were the most hard-working person I'd ever known. You put yourself through college, through medical school, started working the paper route so you could buy Amy that bike she's always wanted. Derek… I looked up to you so much. You balanced all that out and still managed to top your exams, to answer the attendings' questions, to read books and operate. Derek," she said, turning to take his hands in hers. "I always believed in you. I wish you'd told so me, so I could have told you exactly what I thought, quelled those insecurities you had." And she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind Derek's ear. "So I could have told you just how amazing you were. And still are."

Derek swallowed against the intensity of Addison's gaze. "I guess I know that now," he answered hoarsely. A little too late, he wanted to add.

Addison sighed, dropping Derek's hands and looking away. And then she nodded slowly. "Well, Boston definitely brought you out of my shadow," she chuckled humorlessly. "You learned and you trained and you grew to be one of the best damn neurosurgeons in this country. And I'm proud of you."

A rush of pain coursed through Derek. She had said that, the night they broke up.

"And I don't think you should regret it," she continued.

They were quiet for long moments after that, both lost in thought.

And then after a few minutes, Addison turned to look at Derek. "I hope you know… that what I felt for you was real. That I loved you so much. With all my heart," she said. "And while letting you go was the hardest thing in life, I loved you so much, so much Derek, that now, I can't bring myself to regret anything. You turned out to be the doctor you've always wanted to be. You got everything you ever wanted in life."

"Not everything," he said, looking at her meaningfully. "You were always part of the dream."

"Dreams change, I suppose," she shrugged. "We adapt. Matthew certainly wasn't part my plans, but he happened, and I don't regret any of it."

"Even if you divorced?"

"Even if we divorced," she confirmed. "I'm still licking a real big wound right now because he blindsided me too, but I'll be okay."

He took her hand in his. "You will be okay," he said with certainty. "And for the record, I loved you too. More than I've ever loved anybody in my life. And in a way… I always will," he said wistfully. "But I think… we're really ready to be friends now. Last time we tried we were both not ready—it was too soon after the break up. But now? I think we're there."

"You think so?"

He nodded. "It's a new and improved version of DerekandAddison."

"AddisonandDerek," she corrected with a smile. "Thanks for being honest, Derek."

He still had a lot he wanted to say, but it seemed like this was a good point to end the already heavy and exhausting conversation. The box was still half-full, waiting to be unpacked. But it would have to happen over time, in due course. At least now they didn't have to skitter around the past anymore. It could be out in the open, a wound nearly healed. Or so they hoped.

---

Addison was busy going through a box of stuff she had shipped to Seattle, trying to get everything unboxed so she could finally feel at home in her apartment. Her apartment was mostly done. All the essentials were out of the boxes and she was comfortable. But there were still a few trinkets in boxes that severely ruined the aesthetic of her living space, so she decided she'd go through them on her day off.

She pulled one of the boxes, ripped off the tape, and started rummaging to see which ones were worth salvaging and which ones were going to goodwill.

Inside the box was a framed wedding picture of herself and Matthew. Her breath hitched. When she packed those boxes, she just threw everything in without much thought. She didn't realize she'd accidentally packed up perhaps one of the hardest reminders of her broken marriage.

Sighing, she took the framed picture and brought it with her as she sat on the couch, her finger tracing the outline of her younger self. She looked happy. And she looked hopeful. And maybe, if she squinted hard enough, she could see that she also looked relieved—which was probably not a feeling you'd quite expect from a newlywed but it was there anyway.

The ache in her chest went from sharp and jolting to constant, thrumming, dull—always there. Quiet enough to ignore when she had to, but present enough that if she so much as thought of it, it was loud and persistent. While she was willing to give Matthew the freedom he desperately wanted and needed, there was no denying that it left a gaping hole in her heart.

Addison, I don't want to hurt you, he had said that night. Funny how that line has never resulted in any less hurt. But I kissed someone at work. I'm not sure what's going on between us, but there has been something going on for a while, he continued.

Addison had to close her eyes at the memory. She remembered that it felt like an out of body experience. She sat in front of him at the kitchen island, but she felt like she was floating. Like none of what was happening was real. She remembered that his words floated above her head, things like I kissed someone, and going on for a while. It was surreal until he said it. Addison, it wasn't a girl. It was John, from psychiatry. Addie… I think I'm gay.

Those words brought her out of her trance. She had snapped out of that daze and all of a sudden the air in the room felt thick. He kept talking, but she couldn't hear anything. All she could think about were the words—I'm gay I'm gay I'm gay.

To this day, she doesn't know how she got through that conversation. Or how she found herself agreeing to a divorce. She doesn't know how he asked, how she said okay, but she could imagine she just nodded numbly at that. She remembered though that he kept reassuring her, telling her that this newfound identity didn't change what they had—that his love for her was real, that their marriage was real, that she would always have a friend in him no matter what. But she felt numb to the bone. She didn't start crying until her first night out of the brownstone.

Addison sighed then. She loved Matthew and she was willing to give him anything he asked, anything within her reach. He had pulled her out of the proverbial gutter, saved her from drowning in a sadness of a magnitude she didn't know existed until she broke up with Derek. And though it physically pained her to sign those divorce papers when they came, she knew it was the right thing to do. Matthew was the most kindhearted person she knew—soft, generous, truly a heart of gold. He deserved the freedom he was asking for—freedom from their marriage, from the expectations of his family, from the bonds within himself when he suppressed who he truly was.

She took the framed photo and set it up for display on the coffee table. Yes, she didn't need a reminder of her broken marriage, but to deny that Matthew was a good part of her life would be a disservice. She could deal with a reminder or two of that. And a wedding picture was one of the more tolerable ones. Her rings were kept in a safety deposit box in Manhattan. Her wedding dress was somewhere in one of the boxes in the apartment she left. And all her memories of him were slowly being boxed, waiting to be tucked away for good.

She had found peace with the divorce. After all the phone calls—Bizzy who demanded for an explanation, Archer who offered to castrate him, Savvy who wanted to comfort her, Nancy and Derek's other sisters hinting about a possible reunion with him, and after all the side comments and pitying looks she received from people at the hospital, she had found some sort of peace. She still wasn't over it, and it would be a way to go before she was ready to be in another relationship, but she had accepted it and decided she could move forward. There were moments when she still felt lost, but that was on her. She was on her way to forgiving Matthew; she just needed to find direction for her life. She hoped moving to Seattle would give her precisely that.

---

The door to the gallery creaked open and Addison turned her head to check.

"Did you get the popcorn?" she asked.

Derek held his right hand up, holding a bag of popcorn. "I got it," he grinned, taking a seat next to Addison. Mark was doing a facial reconstruction on a patient mangled by a bear, and they decided to watch together. Meredith was assisting Mark on the case, which gave Derek the perfect excuse to be there. And Addison had some time on her hands. By some miracle, no one else was watching. A code triage was called after an entire party's attendance got food poisoning, and all the interns were called to assist.

Addison smiled at him and took the popcorn from his hands, opening the bag and popping a few pieces in her mouth. Her eyes were on Mark as she held the bag out to the side so Derek could get some.

"I can tell this surgery is going to be long," Addison commented as she chewed.

Derek nodded. "I never liked assisting in ENT surgeries. You stand there for so long and work on a field that's so little and so delicate."

"Isn't neuro kind of like that?"

"It is," he agreed. "But ORs are ever rarely long. This one though? I'd say 12 hours, give or take."

"Yeah, but it's Mark," Addison replied. "I think he can do it in 8."

"There's a mandibular reconstruction, Addie," he said as he took some popcorn from the bag. "That alone is, like, 5 hours."

Addison shrugged, gesturing lightly at Meredith. "You think she'll be okay?"

"She's a trooper," Derek answered. "Besides, she's an intern. Interns are programmed for long hours."

"I guess," she agreed dubiously, eyes on Meredith as she assisted Mark. "How long have you guys been together?" she asked.

Derek gave her a questioning look before he shrugged. "A bit less than a year," he replied.

Addison put a piece of popcorn in her mouth, turning to Derek. "Is it serious?"

He thought about for a moment, taking some popcorn and chewing it to buy some time to answer. "It's the most serious since you."

She nodded. "Did it just happen or…?"

"It was supposed to be a one-night stand," he answered dryly. "And then she turned up an intern the following day. It got serious pretty fast."

"She seems like a great girl," she said honestly.

"She is," Derek agreed.

"And smart too. I would expect nothing less from Ellis Grey's daughter."

"She's trying to break out of that," Derek said. He knew how that felt. It was one of the reasons they had hit it off—a shared trauma of trying to be out of someone else's shadows.

Addison shrugged, unaware of Derek's thoughts. "Well she's doing a great job of that. I heard some of the other attendings talk about her and Yang. They're outdoing themselves."

"Cristina and Meredith are both very talented doctors."

"They're also both sleeping with attendings, but that's entirely coincidental right?" she said, flashing him a teasing grin.

He chuckled. "Purely coincidental."

Addison smiled and then turned her attention back to the OR, occasionally taking a mouthful of popcorn. She looked like she was watching the surgery intently, but really she was studying Meredith. Meredith was unassuming. She looked plain on the outside, but she was a real force, Addison could tell. She was smart and driven, but she was also compassionate. Addison had seen her bedside manner, and patients usually immediately warmed up to her. She seemed sweet. And save for the misplaced attempt at marking her territory the first time they worked together, Addison thought she was great. She seemed to really like Derek, although sometimes it seemed to her like she was just immensely awestruck by the fact that Derek was a neurosurgeon.

"What do you like most about her?" she asked suddenly, turning her head to look at Derek.

"About Meredith?" he clarified with a little confusion.

She nodded. "You said she was the first one since me. What about her made you want to try again seriously?"

Derek shrugged. "Well, everyone else before her were… I don't know how to explain it. Mark says I compared everyone else to you, so I was easily disappointed by everyone I tried to date."

"Were you… looking for someone like me?" she asked slowly.

"I was looking for someone who wouldn't remind me of you," he said with a shrug.

"The anti-Addison?" she smiled in amusement.

"Maybe. Everyone I've dated has had one small quality that was just like you—driven, independent, feisty. Couldn't even date anyone with red hair," he continued dryly.

"And Meredith is the anti-Addison?" she asked curiously.

He shrugged again as he fished for some popcorn in the bag. "You're nothing alike."

Addison raised a brow at him. "Nothing?"

"Well… you're both really determined," he answered after a thought. "But that's the extent of it."

Addison nodded. "Matthew was nothing like you, either," she admitted.

Derek turned to her, an inquisitive expression on his face. "No?"

"He's… silly. Wasn't afraid to make a fool of himself in public. Never took himself too seriously."

"Am I too serious?"

She frowned. "It comes with the job I think. And I think your line of work says a lot about you. You're a neurosurgeon—you're genetically programmed to be competitive and serious and fast on your feet. And you never did like failing," she said thoughtfully. "But Matt… he's a pediatrician. He's nowhere near as competitive as you, me or Mark. He's patient—never yelled at me, not even once. I guess you have to be that way when you're working with children."

"I guess you chose the anti-Derek, too."

"I didn't really mean for that to happen," she answered. "It just kind of did."

He nodded. "Where'd you meet him?"

"I told you we were distantly related."

"So you met him at like a family reunion?"

"I guess you could call it that," Addison replied with a half-smile. "Bizzy and her cousins threw this huge thing in Nantucket for the Bradford side. And I was coerced into coming because I was, according to Bizzy, living a dreadful life alone and had nothing better to do with my time. So I went, because I didn't want to argue with her, and then he was there."

"How distant is distant again?" he asked with a smile, taking some popcorn from the bag.

"Like… my 4th cousin."

"Did he try anything immediately?" he asked curiously.

She shrugged. "That weekend happened a year after you moved out. I was downing copious amounts of champagne during the welcome dinner and Matt was there too, also coerced by his father to come."

"He wasn't too pleased to be wining and dining in Nantucket?"

"He put up with it just like I did. And it was nice, you know, finding someone with a mutual distaste of that lifestyle that weekend. And we laughed a lot about how ridiculous the whole thing was. But to answer your question, no, he didn't."

"So when did it become serious with him?" he asked. He thought it might be too painful to listen to Addison talk about Matthew. But he had to come accept that he had been a part of Addison's life, and was also the reason she was in Seattle and back in his life. There was a time he probably wouldn't be able to stomach the thought of Addison and Matthew. But, he can admit a little shamefully, it was easier now knowing they weren't together anymore. Not that he didn't want Addison to be happy—because he did, really and truly. But maybe not with the guy immediately after him? He wasn't sure.

"He tried like a month later," she answered. "But I wasn't over you, and I turned him down. Told him I had just come out of a really long relationship and wasn't ready for anything serious. He was nice about it."

"It seems he persisted," Derek observed neutrally.

"We'd catch up for dinner once in a while. He was my cousin for crying out loud, and of course there was a part of me that detested that. But he did persist, and the dinners we spent really did help me forget. He's a funny guy—makes the best jokes. Has the most perfect comedic timing."

"The funny guy gets the girl," he commented tightly.

"Oh, don't be like that," she said, nudging him a little with her elbow. "He tried for 2 years before I finally agreed to date him."

"And then he proposed."

"Two years later," she argued. She sighed then, turning to face Derek. "He pulled me out of a really dark place," she told him seriously. "I was drowning in so much self-loathing and regret and sadness. He was like… coming up for fresh air."

Derek stared at her for a moment before he exhaled and nodded. "Meredith was my breath of fresh air too."

Addison smiled at him. "I'm glad."

"Have you… had contact with him since the divorce?" he asked tentatively.

"He called me once after I moved, to ask me if there was anything else I needed from the brownstone. I still had some things there, and I guess he wanted to know what to do with them."

"What did you say?"

She shrugged. "I sent Savvy to take care of it. Sav's a good friend."

"She is," he agreed. He was thoughtful for a moment, chewing on some popcorn before he swallowed and continued. "How did you get through it?"

"Get through what?" she asked distractedly, watching Mark take a skin flap and position it over a portion of the patient's face.

"The divorce. Him coming out."

Addison turned to look at him and sighed. "I'm not through it yet," she answered honestly. She sat up straight. "He came home one night and told me he had something to tell me. He'd been distant for a while, and I could tell there was something going on, but I didn't want to push. Matt's always been the kind of guy who would come to you when he was ready. And I wanted to give him space and respect him."

Derek nodded wordlessly, watching as Addison set the bag of popcorn down and started fiddling with her fingers.

"He told me that he was really sorry. That something had happened. That he had kissed a colleague."

Derek grimaced but said nothing. He might not know what it was like to be cheated on, but he could imagine it wasn't easy.

"I asked him who it was, if he was in love with her. And then that's when he dropped the bomb. It wasn't a her. It was a him. And he'd known all his life there was a possibility he was gay, but he never dared explore it because of the shame it would bring his family."

He watched her continue to fiddle with her fingers, sadness across her features. His heart went out to her. Addison had been blindsided by a man she loved yet again.

"And… I mean I was really surprised. But after much thought, I felt bad for him, you know? I know what it feels like to be suffocated by your family—to have to put up pretenses to preserve the family name and all that stuff. And he just didn't want to be stifled anymore. He assured me he loved me, that the last few years with me weren't a lie. But he had to start living his life the way he wanted to do because he was tired of hiding and denying who he truly was."

"Were you… mad?"

"Mad?" she asked, finally looking up. She shrugged. "I don't know if mad is the right word for it. But I can tell you I wasn't happy."

"I can't imagine… what that was like…" he said, unable to find the words to comfort her.

"He asked for a divorce. And well, what's the use of staying in a marriage if the other person doesn't want to be with you anyway? So we made it as quick and painless as possible. He told me one day, and within a month, the papers were signed. That month just zoomed right past me—packing my stuff, moving boxes, not having the time to really process things until I moved out and spent my first night at the apartment he gave me after the divorce. That's when things really sunk in."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said honestly.

She shrugged defeatedly. "One minute I had a husband, the next I was all alone. And then I had to deal with my family, his family, and people at work. And it got so much worse when he decided to come out to the entire hospital. That's when I realized I had to remove myself from the equation. Richard's call came just in time." She sighed then, taking a handful of popcorn from the bag and toying with a piece without eating it. "But at the end of the day—he was a dear friend to me. He helped me through some difficult times and supported me when I took my second fellowship. He was a sturdy anchor when I really needed him. My best friend," she said, smiling at Derek. "And he looked so painfully sorry when he came out to me that my heart went out to him. My best friend needed me to support him. It was my turn to be the sturdy anchor. How could I deny him that?"

Derek stared at her sadly. She looked so young and vulnerable in that moment, eyes brimming with unshed tears, the weight of an invisible load so obvious on her shoulders as she tried to piece together how her life was playing out.

And then she sighed. "But the important thing is he's happy," she continued, a small smile on her lips. "You love someone so much, all you want is their happiness. And he… he deserves it. I'm not completely okay now, but I can safely and surely say that I'm happy for him and that I only wish the best for him."

"You did a good thing, Addie," he assured her.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just wish that I could be enough," she answered wistfully. "I wasn't enough for you. And I wasn't enough for him. I hope, you know, one day… I can be enough for someone. I'm just tired of feeling so inadequate."

He swallowed at that. He supposed his actions did make it seem like Addison wasn't enough for him. The life they had together immensely inadequate. Like he wanted more. He wanted to tell her that she was enough for him. That she had always been more than enough. But how could he say that if he packed his own bags and moved to Boston and stopped all communication with her soon after?

She gave a quick exhale before she finally popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth. "I hope Meredith is enough for you, Derek."

He could only smile at her sadly before grabbing the bag of popcorn and stuffing his mouth. After a moment, he turned to look at her. "For the record, I'm glad Richard called at the perfect time."

She chuckled at that. "Me too."

---

Derek liked to fish. He didn't think he did until he moved to Seattle and bought a piece of land with a lake right by it. Fishing was quiet—a safe space to just be himself, alone with his thoughts. And while some would argue that being alone with your thoughts, especially if you were one named Derek Shepherd, isn't exactly a bright idea, he still liked to fish. On days that were especially brutal, he would drive his jeep to the property and take a few hours to himself. It wasn't a lot, but it was therapeutic for him.

These days his thoughts were often filled with Addison—her face, her voice, memories of their past that usually made him nauseous with regret. Today, as he sat and fished in the lake he loved so dearly, it was still thoughts of Addison filling his head.

Since they had spoken openly about their relationship, it was all that consumed him. The events immediately before and after they broke up came rushing back at lightning speed, assaulting him with tremendous amounts of doubt and regret and love.

He remembered the night he told her about the application to Boston. Well—the night she found the acceptance letter before he could get to telling her. He's still not sure why he kept the application a secret. His excuses sounded flimsy then, and sounded even flimsier now in retrospect. But the acceptance letter came, and Addison looked at him with fire in her eyes but spoke to him with ice in her tone—do you want to tell me why there's a letter of acceptance to Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston, Derek? He couldn't formulate words then, he just stared at her in a mix of fear and trepidation. She had walked out soon after, claiming she needed to clear her mind, came back two hours later with the same fire in her eyes, but more willing to listen.

So he told her. Told her he had applied 2 months ago. That the application form was in his locker for half a year. Told her it was always his dream to go to Harvard for fellowship. And she looked at him with plain disbelief across her face. How could it have always been your dream and yet never once mentioned it to me, not in the ten years we've been together, she had asked, the frustration and the disappointment evident in her voice. And then came the inevitable question—why didn't you tell me? She asked why it wasn't important enough to mention it to her, his future wife, why he had to go behind her back to mail in his application.

Fellowship applications have interviews, Derek, she told him. How in the world did you get in without an interview? How could he lie about that? He told her he drove down to Boston on one of his days off, when Addison was on a 24-hour shift. He drove in early, went for the interview, and drove back the same day—4 hours in and 4 hours out. It was too easy. And Addison looked at him with so much betrayal, he didn't think he could ever forget how it felt to have caused her that pain. She was speechless after that. Addison—the woman who had something to say about just about everything—reduced to absolute stunned silence.

She didn't speak to him for days after—reeling from the hurt. And when she finally did, they spoke clinically about it. Why Boston? Why not New York? Back then, he couldn't admit to her that he needed Boston for himself—that he needed to shake off the insecurity he felt, the insistent need to be the best. In the end, lying by omission hurt their relationship more than he thought it would, and they had fallen.

He remembered his drive to Boston. He packed up his things, loaded all of them into the jeep, and bid Addison goodbye with a heavy heart. The four hours to Boston was the longest four hours of his life. Her engagement ring, the one he slipped on her finger over a year ago, sat heavily in his pocket throughout the entire drive. It didn't weigh much—it really only amounted to his entire life, his entire future. And it sat in his pocket, his mind hyperaware of it, a loud, ringing reminder of what this decision had cost him. It taunted him, and there were many moments in those four hours that he thought about turning back and putting that ring right back on her finger where it belonged. But he forged through—through the 4 hour drive and eventually through the 5 years that came after it.

Derek fiddled with the fishing rod between his hands, biting his lip as he continued thinking of Addison. Everyone called, demanding answers. All of his sisters, Mark, his mother, even Archer. All of them called. And he ignored each and every one them. The only phone calls he ever took were those from Addison, but at some point, those became difficult to get through, too. He could hear the longing in his own voice, in her voice, in the gaping distance between them. He wanted to admit he was wrong, but he couldn't. His pride wouldn't let him. He had gotten into the best neurosurgery fellowship and he was going to stand by that. Eventually, his pain grew into anger and resentment too, and after it did, there was no way he could keep contact with her. For a while he hated her—hated her New York elitism. Nothing in the country was better than what New York could offer. And he hated how much she loved him, enough to let him go. It was just too much.

So he buried himself in work. Told himself he would be the best neurosurgeon in the world—make all the hurt count for something. He lost track of the number of times he went through the stages of grief, oscillating between denial, anger resentment and back again. But then, he did it. He made it. He was now one of the most sought-after neurosurgeons in the country, all thanks to Addison's freeing love.

Sometimes he couldn't help but think that he had caused her great pain by leaving, because not only did they break off a perfectly healthy 10-year relationship, but he also set the stage for all her future heartbreak. She wouldn't have married Matthew if he didn't leave. She wouldn't be going through a divorce if he just stayed in New York. But Addison seemed to have no regrets—she felt they wouldn't have been truly happy if either of them compromised their dream for the other. And in a way, he agreed. Career-wise, they both got everything they ever wanted. They were both world-class surgeons, Addison now double-board certified even. But at the end of the day, who do you come home to? Who holds you and tells you you're doing a good job? Assures you that there is love to be found, a safe space to run to? They may have achieved everything they ever wanted for their careers, but it couldn't be denied that there was a gaping hole elsewhere in their lives.

---

"Pizza's here!" Mark called as he shut the door of Addison's apartment, carrying the pizza boxes to the dining room. Addison and Derek, who were watching TV in the living room, followed him to the dining table.

"Addison's first taste of Seattle pizza," Mark grinned, setting the boxes down.

Addison caught sight of the boxes and then stuck her tongue out at him. "You told me this would be just as good as Roberta's."

"I didn't say I was being truthful," he said as he opened the boxes from Pizza Hut.

"I can't believe you ordered Pizza Hut and told me it would be better than Roberta's."

"Addie, we all grew up in the tristate area. Brooklyn pizza is hands down the best pizza in the world. Why'd you even believe there could be anything on the planet to rival that?"

She shrugged as she took a bottle of beer Derek had passed on to her. "Trust."

"Trust is overrated," he said to her teasingly.

"Of course it's overrated to you. How many women have you even led on?"

Mark shrugged, opening up one of the boxes. "I don't know, I've lost count."

Addison rolled her eyes as she took a seat at Mark's dining table. "You're terrible."

"You love me," he grinned at her before playfully planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Fine, I do, but Mark—"

"Yes, yes. Don't lie to you about pizza, I get it," he smiled, sitting down next to Addison. "You're awfully anal about pizza. I seem to remember you hated it when we ordered pizza back in med school. Right Derek?"

Derek laughed. "Addison hated anything with carbs."

"Apparently not since we moved out of New York," Mark laughed. "What happened to you?"

Addison shrugged. "I just found the kind of pizza that I liked," she answered, taking a bite of pizza and suppressing the urge to gag.

"Oh yeah? And what kind is that?" Mark asked.

She groaned. "Anything that is made with New York City's dirty tap water."

"It's the same with the bagels," Derek commented, looking at Mark. "She's anal about those, too."

"I can imagine," Mark answered him, taking a bite of his own pizza. "She anal about the cream cheese too, or just the bagels?"

"Probably not cream cheese, but I'm guessing it's the same way with cheesecake," he said with a grin. "New York cheesecake is—"

"You know I'm right here," Addison cut them off with an eye roll.

"We know," Derek answered, leaning back on his chair and taking a swig of his drink, eyes twinkling.

"We're just waiting for you to get more than one bite of pizza, is all," Mark added teasingly, gesturing to the pizza in Addison's hand, the slice almost full except for the measly bite she took. "Can't have you starving to death in your own apartment."

"This is cardboard," she said petulantly.

"This is great pizza," Derek argued, taking a big bite and raking in so much delight in the way Addison's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Weren't you the one who absolutely refused to order pizza on that trip we made to Florida because 'the pizza's better back home Addie'?" she mimicked.

"Well… Florida isn't exactly known for their pizza," Derek replied as if the answer was obvious.

"So is Seattle," she said, but she laughed at him anyway. "This is crazy. You guys are giving me so much crap about missing New York. Don't tell me you don't miss anything about it too."

"I miss the girls," Mark said with a shrug. "I miss teasing you," he continued. "Remember that one time she and Savvy got so mad at us for getting the wrong wine?"

Derek laughed. "I had never heard of Riesling in my life until that day, how was I supposed to know any other white wine wouldn't go with that charcuterie board they were making?"

"Savvy was madder, I think," Mark answered. "She's the wine expert."

Addison groaned. "Yes, Savvy was definitely madder than I was. I wasn't mad at all, in fact I thought it was kind of funny how she almost clawed your eyes out for ruining her dinner plans."

"Well, I don't recall you coming to our defense," Derek pointed after taking another bite of his food.

She shrugged. "I'm sorry I didn't hasten to your defense," she said, "but it's kind of girl code. You're supposed to support your best friend 100%."

"You were also supposed to defend your boyfriend," Mark replied, "and your boyfriend's best friend. And your best friend's boyfriend."

"Yeah, I don't think Weiss was too pleased with you that evening," Derek laughed.

"For the record, I liked the wine you guys chose," she answered as she took another tentative bite of her pizza.

"Oh yeah? Did you ever have it again?" Mark asked, setting his beer bottle down on the table.

She raised a brow at him as she swallowed. "I did."

"When?" Derek asked curiously.

She rolled her eyes. "We had it at the wine tasting," she explained, pointing at Derek, "you know, for the wedding. We were pairing wine with the dinner course, and because your mom didn't want us serving 'cholesterol-ridden steak' because she didn't want Uncle Ron to have a heart attack, we opted for the salmon."

"Which meant white wine," Derek guessed. Things he picked up after dating Addison for so long—white wine with seafood, red wine with red meat. Or maybe it was Bizzy who taught him that? He wasn't quite sure anymore. If it was Bizzy, it was probably a lesson taught through an underhanded insult.

She nodded. "The caterer put out that same wine for us to try, and we chose that."

"We did?" he asked, blinking, not seeming to remember. He remembered trying out wine with Addison, but he blanked out on what they had sampled.

She shrugged. "I didn't point it out, because that dinner with Savvy wasn't all that memorable until tonight," she laughed. "But yes, we were going to serve Savvy's wrong wine at our wedding."

Derek looked at her with a weird expression. Mark laughed. "You crazy lady. You have, hands down, the best memory. I mean, assuming this is all true."

Addison smiled. "Not that you can verify it because I doubt you guys even looked at the wine you pulled it out from the shelf that day, but it was a Sauvignon Blanc from Napa Valley. You would have known that if you listened to anything Savvy yelled at you guys that night."

"So that's how you know it was a Sauvignon?" Derek asked curiously.

She nodded. "I thought it was good and read the label after we tried it. Didn't think much about it until we were wine tasting for the wedding," she said casually as she took a sip of her beer.

Derek was a little awed by the way Addison casually mentioned their would-have-been wedding. She did that before, too, when she mentioned the cake Meredith had been sour about. If getting married to someone else wasn't proof that she had moved on, the way she lightly mentioned details of their wedding preps proved it well. But this lightness in Addison was one she rarely showed while in Seattle, and he relished these moments. It reminded him of simpler times—just him, Addie and Mark hanging out after a long day of lectures, so much still unknown about the future but equally determined to succeed.

"Well, I'm impressed," Mark complimented. "Let it never be said that Addison Montgomery wasn't stellar at absolutely everything."

She rolled her eyes, unaware of Derek's thoughts. "Not everything. Apparently, I can't keep a husband," she answered, taking her bottle of beer and tipping it towards Mark before taking a sip.

"It's his loss," Mark reminded her lightly.

"Actually, it's his gain," she responded. "But I did lose my husband. Two of them, actually. Well, a husband and an almost husband," she amended. "But hey, who's crying about lost husbands when you have the best pizza in Seattle," she laughed.

Mark shook his head, a soft smile on his face. "You're okay, Addie."

"I am," she confirmed. "This pizza though? Not okay."

Mark reached out and patted her hand lightly. "We'll get you the real best pizza in Seattle next time, I promise. Right, Derek?"

Derek seemed to startle of his thoughts, looking between Mark and Addison and then nodding quickly. "Yeah, the best."

Addison gave him a curious look and then shrugged. "Nancy would have thought this was disgusting too."

"Nancy is a snob just like you," Derek answered her. "It's why you got along so well."

"Yeah, I don't think we bonded over our mutual dislike of subpar pizza," Addison commented flatly, taking another bite.

"I agree," Mark said. "That sounds more like a Lizzie trait. She's the foodie."

Addison nodded. "She recommended that caterer, right Derek?"

"She did," he confirmed. "Lizzie loved that caterer so much, she was so mad at me when we cancelled on her and she had to refund."

Addison laughed. "That salmon? Divine. Would have gone so well with the wine from Napa."

"Is she still in business?" Derek asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't been wedding planning in like… 3 years." She paused and then, "And I don't plan to for another… 100 years maybe."

"Addison has been scarred for life," Mark announced. "Welcome to the singles club. The bachelor life has the best perks."

"Oh, like free gonorrhea?" she laughed.

"Not if you're careful," Mark said defensively. "I have never had an STD scare in my entire life."

"What about a pregnancy scare?" she asked. "You had one of those—with Joanna, in internship. Remember?"

Derek laughed at that. "Oh, I remember that. I'll never forget how pale you got after Joanna puked all over the linoleum floor."

"I won't be surprised if someone turns up one day claiming to be your child," Addison commented. "42 nurses."

"You can laugh at me all you want, but Derek was no saint either," Mark said, gesturing towards Derek with a bottle of beer in his hand. "Derek, maybe you'd like to regale Addison with your exploits."

"I'd rather not," Derek answered dryly, flashing Mark an annoyed look before gauging Addison's reaction.

She seemed nonplussed. "I'm sure Derek is careful."

"Yeah, how do you know that?" Mark asked with a raised brow.

She shrugged. "Have you guys never talked about the theme of our sex life?" she asked.

"I don't kiss and tell," Derek said defensively.

"Yeah, and I didn't want to hear about it. You were my friend too," Mark said, shaking his head with a smile on his lips.

Addison hummed thoughtfully. "Derek is a no glove, no love kind of guy. At least when we were together."

Derek scowled. "Thanks, Addie."

She shrugged. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about," she placated. "I think it's good you're being safe."

"Addison, I'd rather not," Derek frowned.

"Yeah, let's not talk about Derek," Mark agreed with a nod. "I'm curious about Matthew though. If he was gay all this time, did he—"

"Alright," Addison interrupted suddenly. "I walked into that one but I won't kiss and tell."

Mark laughed. "I'm still curious though."

She looked at him but took a pointed bite of her pizza. "Nope."

"I'll needle it out of you one day," Mark answered with a grin.

"Oh, I've no doubt of it. Like how you needled that girl Priscilla to go out with you even if she hated your guts all through med school."

Mark paused for a moment, trying to recall who Priscilla was and then chuckled. "Every girl likes a guy who makes an effort," he retorted between bites.

"And what was that effort?" she asked with a raised brow.

"He wrote her a song," Derek supplied with a smirk on his face, briefly recalling the blonde girl in their Physiology class named Priscilla.

"You went through all the trouble," Addison answered in disbelief, "of writing her a song?"

Mark shrugged. "I never said it was a great song. Besides, I'm not the only musical genius here," he said, gesturing to Derek. "This one has written you a song too."

Addison looked between Mark and Derek, a blank expression on her face. "No he hasn't."

"Yes, he has," Mark insisted, ignoring Derek's scowl. "He just never got to sing it for you."

Addison's brow furrowed. "You wrote me a song?" she asked, turning to Derek. There was something in her voice Derek couldn't quite tell.

He sighed. "It was for the wedding."

"The wedding," Addison repeated dumbly. "You wrote me a song. For the wedding."

He nodded, taking a long sip of his drink. "And thank god I never had to sing it because it was a crap song."

Mark chuckled. "He rhymed gross anatomy class with your fine ass. It was Pulitzer Prize winning."

Derek groaned. "First of all, you wrote that line. And second of all—Addison was never supposed to find out."

"Well what's the use of keeping it a secret now?" Mark asked. He turned to Addison. "It was a great song. Too bad you never got to hear it."

"I wanna hear it," Addison stated plainly.

"Too bad you never will," Derek replied with finality, taking a swig of his beer. "Besides, I don't remember all the lyrics."

"I remember," Mark supplied, earning himself another glare from Derek. "Our eyes met over the cadaver," he started. "And I knew I had to have her."

"Shut up," Derek said with an eye roll.

Addison grinned, leaning in closer. "Go on," she replied, casting a quick glance at Derek and winking at him.

"Sing it with me Derek," Mark teased. "Had his mitral valve grown too thick? Is that what made our cadaver so sick?"

"Your love song for me… talked about cadavers?" Addison asked, perplexed, but also amused.

"It's the greatest love song of all time," Mark said mock-seriously.

"That's because you haven't gotten to the chorus yet," Derek answered Addison defensively.

Addison shrugged. "So let's hear the chorus then," she replied simply, looking at Derek with expectation.

"Your name starts the chorus," Mark winked, taking a bite of pizza and looking at Derek. "Addison Montgomery, he met her in the summer," he laughed, nudging Derek playfully as he chewed.

Derek looked at Addison who was grinning with amusement. There was a certain radiance to her in this light, smiling and laughing. Derek couldn't help but smile back.

She grinned at Derek. "How does the rest go, Derek? Come on and sing it," she said, a small pout on her lips.

Derek shook his head with a smile. He could deny her nothing if she kept smiling at him that way.

"She was cutting up a very dead body," Mark continued between bites.

Addison rolled her eyes. "All I've heard so far is a lot of dead bodies, I'm not sure I'm convinced this is a love song."

Derek smiled. "And in her eyes I saw my life," he said, choosing not to sing, but repeating the words he meant so completely when he wrote them. "I knew that she would be wife. And she would breathe the life back into me," he continued.

Addison's expression immediately softened, eyes suddenly so tender as she looked at Derek meaningfully. His gaze was intense for a brief moment, like he was professing wedding vows instead of reciting lyrics to a poorly written love song.

"From everyday until eternity," Derek continued, a playful but earnest look on his face.

They stared at each other for a moment, Addison still sporting that tender look and Derek watching her intently. Mark looked between the two lovers, feeling nostalgic, thinking of all the times they had been so in love that a single look carried so much weight. He cleared his throat then.

"Or until I'd be as dead as that body," he finished, hitting the low note with a bit of effort and earning himself a loud laugh from Addison.

"Always about the dead bodies," she said with a shake of her head, grinning at Derek who only laughed in response.

---

AN: THANK YOU for reading this far! Currently writing the latter chapters (the Ber months are killing me- I'm trying to give it justice. Hope you guys stay tuned.

Thank you and stay safe!