AN: I know, it took such a while! I'm so sorry. I had the worst case of writer's block + dealing with COVID-19 surges where I am. It's been a really eventful year, but I was determined to get this out before the year ends so here it is. I rewrote this chapter so many times. Addison and Derek's emotions never felt rightly conveyed in all the versions. I don't think this final version is perfect either, but I think it plays well with the rest of the story. On to the final chapter!
"You've been avoiding me."
Addison sighed, feeling a headache already coming with four words from a very familiar voice at seven freaking thirty in the morning. Much too early for a conversation of this sort.
"I haven't," she denied flatly, pulling out a chart.
Derek leaned on the counter at the Nurses' Station. "Really?"
"Really," Addison replied, forcing herself to look and flash Derek a smile.
"So that's not why you always walk out of the room when I come in, suddenly sit in the front row at staff meetings like it was the most interesting meeting you've ever attended, or have been paging Dr. Frost for your neuro consults instead of me."
She made a face. "No, Derek. Those are all purely coincidental."
Which was a lie, obviously. She was definitely avoiding him. Not because she had nothing to say, because she had a ton to say. But because she didn't know where to start. When she left him on the dancefloor on Thanksgiving, she was almost certain she had broken the man. There was absolutely no way Derek would persist—he just wasn't that kind of person. And she meant to talk to him, truly she did. She just needed some time to think about things. Never mind that she was also purposely trying not to think about things, hence the delay in the talking part.
Derek hummed before he plucked the chart from Addison's hands and pulled her to an empty hallway. Addison didn't even protest, just resigned herself to the fact that today was the day Derek decided he was done waiting for her to come to him.
"I should be mad at you," he said when they were finally alone.
"Excuse me?"
He nodded. "I should be mad. You left me on the dancefloor after I confessed my undying love for you. That wasn't very nice," he said, a hint of a smile in his tone, teasing, completely unexpected.
That threw Addison off. "Derek."
"Look, I understand," he said. When Addison gave him a very skeptical look, which meant to say she wasn't convinced, he gave her a half smile. "Well, I wasn't okay then. It felt like I got dumped," he continued honestly. "But I gave it a lot of thought, and yeah, I probably blindsided you that night. No preamble, no nothing."
"It seems you've made a habit of blindsiding me," she retorted blandly, avoiding his gaze.
He ignored her. "So I gave you space. I gave you time to think about things. It's been a week, and I think we can talk about it."
"Now?"
Derek shrugged. "You've got nothing on the board until 10am, and you already made me wait a week."
"Derek, now is hardly the time and place. We're at work."
"Addison, I love you."
"Here we go," she said under her breath, closing her eyes in frustration because she already knew that. He'd already said that, and she got it the first time. Really she did.
He ignored her again. "And I want to be with you. I said as much on Thanksgiving. But I think I need to elaborate."
"It's not necessary," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Derek placed a soft hand on her arm, willing her to meet his eyes. "Addie, I love you," he tried again. "I've loved you since I was 21, and I will love you until I'm 702. We found the right love at the wrong time, so said Barry Manilow, and I agree completely. I knew you were the one from the day I met you in Anatomy lab, and I've made a lot of stupid decisions that cost me you. But I'm here, and you're here. By some miracle, we are here again and we have a chance. And I'm in it. 100%. I'm so committed to making things work."
"It's not that simple."
"What's not simple Addie?"
"This. Us. You and me," she said, gesturing between the two of them. "There's so much history between us. And I have so much baggage behind me. I'm not ready to commit to anything."
"Then take your time," he replied with understanding. "Honey, I'm not going anywhere. I love you. And you love me. I'm sure of it."
"Really."
"Yes."
She shook her head. "Derek."
"Unless…" he said, trailing off and suddenly looking at her with new eyes.
"Unless what?" she sighed tiredly.
"Unless I've been reading you wrong this whole time," he continued slowly, like a lightbulb had just turned on in his head. His brow furrowed in deep thought, as if he was trying to wrap his mind around a possibility he was only just considering.
"What do you mean?"
"You don't love me, do you? At least not like that?" he asked softly, all of the lightness he had coming into this conversation suddenly draining out of him in waves. "Did I just make it up in my head?"
Addison shook her head. Of course he didn't. She knew she was good at hiding her feelings, but she didn't think she was that good as to look as if Derek was just a friend. "Derek…"
"How could I have been so stupid," he muttered to himself, taking a step back from Addison. A million thoughts about why she didn't say it back on Thanksgiving had entered his mind, but somehow he never considered this—that she probably didn't love him the way he loved her.
"Derek, it's not like that," she pleaded with him, hoping he would understand. She loved him. Of course she loved him. But it wasn't as simple as telling him that.
"Then what is it? I don't think there's any other rational conclusion," he said, pacing. "You're avoiding me. You don't want to commit. You keep making excuses. You're just… it's not that you're not ready. You're not trying to hurt me. You just… don't feel the same way," he trailed off. He looked at Addison with so much sadness in his eyes, not expecting the realization.
Addison felt like she had been slapped. And the way Derek was looking at her… god those eyes. "Derek."
"You don't love me, do you? At least not like that."
Addison shook her head again, desperate to get more control over the situation, which was rapidly spiraling out of control. Derek was making all of these stupid assumptions, and she couldn't even get a word in. "No, Derek, I don't—"
"Okay," he said cutting her off, as if he had heard enough, exhaling slowly.
"You didn't even let me finish!"
"It's fine, Addison," he answered quickly, starting to walk away and shaking his head. "I'm sorry for bothering you," he finished, before he rounded the corner and was out of sight.
Well. She huffed angrily. That went splendidly.
…
When Addison left him on the dancefloor, he felt like he had been slapped. Like a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown over him. The image of Addison's retreating form was engrained in his memory in the following days, it was hard not to draw his own conclusions.
Funny enough, he didn't think she didn't love him. He was mad at first—because he felt like a fool for baring his heart out to her and having her leave him in mid-air. He felt as miserable as he did on the day he and Addison broke up. But with a lot of thought, he realized he was probably too forthcoming, came on too strong, and probably shocked her to the point of inaction. So he generously decided to give her time, to let the events of Thanksgiving simmer in her mind so she could collect her thoughts. But as the days passed and she gave no indication of speaking to him, even going so far as to refer all her surgical neuro consults to Seattle Grace's second rate neurosurgeon, he decided it was time to intervene.
He thought he was reading her right this entire time. But the look she gave him when he cornered her made him second guess everything. He had hope. Mark had spoken openly about the possibility of Addison still loving him. Matthew came and treated him in a manner that he construed as protectiveness over Addison. And Addison gave him these looks—looks that were hardly platonic, like she was longing too. He thought that after all the years of knowing her, and with the dust finally starting to settle around them, that it was time to make a move. He thought the move would be well-received. He either overestimated his capacity to read Addison, or underestimated the power of his own words. Either which way, the end was the same. Addison had slipped through his fingers.
He felt rotten. He hadn't felt this rotten for a while now. The hurt from the years prior dulled, and he carried its constant thrumming with him wherever he went. This ache was different though. It was sharp, begging to be noticed, begging to be heard, consistently reminding him of how much he had failed her, failed them. So he left. Retreated into his shell. Became the recluse he usually was when things became tough. He wasn't sure it would be any easier bouncing back from this.
….
After a few days of unreturned phone calls and absences, Addison was done. She was sick and tired of playing this game with Derek, and she was going to take matters into her own hands. Derek had stupidly drawn conclusions, and it was, to her, the most childish thing in the world. They were adults—they were supposed to talk things through. Admittedly, she hadn't been open to talking much since his confession, but she thought he had grown up enough and knew her well enough to realize all she needed was time.
Sheepishly and a little begrudgingly, she missed him. Missed his constant presence in the hallway, his jovial smile just around the corner, his comforting company and eyes that saw straight to her soul. How could he ever think she didn't love him?
Once she had decided she was fed up with the way they were both handling the situation (like children!), he coerced Mark into telling her where he was, and she looked incredulously at him when he gave her directions to a place that seemed sketchier than the ghetto.
But with a little bit of trust (probably a lot more than she was willing to give Mark seeing that the directions were to some uncharted land in Seattle), she drove all the way down. To a piece of land where a trailer stood. In her entire year in Seattle, she had never been to Derek's home. She had naively assumed he probably lived downtown, maybe close to Mark. But apparently in Seattle, he was a woodsman. Which was the precise way to define him as he sat on the deck of trailer, his fishing vest on, a bottle of beer in his hand.
Steeling herself, she parked her car next to his jeep and stepped out, her stilettos protesting as the gravel hit the sole of her shoes. The leather would no doubt chip.
He looked up at her, and if he was surprised to see her, he didn't show it. He just raised the bottle to his lips to take another sip. For lack of better term, Derek looked miserable. He had the unshaven look he apparently sported when he was emotionally distraught, and Addison could tell, with just one look, that he wasn't any better on the inside. That his heart probably felt trampled on, and she felt absolutely terrible.
Biting her lip, she walked carefully to the edge of the deck, slipping her hands into her coat at the unexpected chill in this part of the city. She had practiced what she was going to say a number of times in her head. Some variation of "I love you, you stupid jerk, you just didn't let me finish talking". But seeing him look plaintively desolate made something in her chest constrict uncomfortably.
"You're trespassing on private property," Derek broke the silence, meeting her eyes.
She shrugged and then shook her head. She stared at his blue eyes for a second before she sighed. "I saw you that day," she said quietly.
"On what day?" he asked in confusion.
"August 22nd," she explained. "In 1998," she half-smiled. "I called in sick and drove four hours to Boston to beg you to take me back."
This confession was new. He stared at her wordlessly, as if trying to make sense of what she was saying, marveling at the idea of a younger Addison Montgomery driving four hours when she never liked driving past 40th Street, except to go to the Empire State Building. He blinked, trying to check if he was hallucinating or if Addison was really there, really saying the things she was.
"I got to Brigham and I parked that old Corvette Grandpa Forbes gave me and I sat in those tacky red chairs in the lobby," she said self-deprecatingly. "I didn't know what I was going to say to you—much like today," she admitted. "I just knew I had to see you."
He took a deep in breath. "Did you see me?"
"In those blue grey scrubs and your white lab coat?" she asked flatly. "I did." When he didn't say anything, she continued. "I didn't work up the nerve to talk to you, but I saw you."
"Yeah?"
She nodded, shifting her weight between her heeled feet. "There was so much I wanted to say. Like how much I wanted you to come home to New York with me. How I was sorry I didn't want to try the long distance thing. And how I really really really fucking loved you," she said, looking up at the sky the keep her tears at bay. "In like, a stupid, pathetic way. I loved you so much."
Derek looked at the wooden panels of the deck, unable to watch Addison almost lose her composure in front of him. He listened to her intently, allowing her to share a side of their story he had never heard before.
"When I saw you… you were working on a case. I could tell, you know, because you had CAT scans in your hand," she said, gesturing with her hand before putting it back in her coat. "And you looked so focused, so concentrated. And mostly, you looked so held together. Like you knew exactly what to do with the patient. You looked every bit like the neurosurgeon you always wanted to become." She shifted again, casting her gaze to the ground. "I knew then, in that precise moment when you stood waiting for the elevator, how selfish it would be to ask you to move back to New York with me. You were growing into this very skilled and dedicated doctor, and I had no business getting in the way of that." Finally she looked up and gave him a sad smile. "It hurt so much, you know? But it was when I knew just how much I loved you."
He met her gaze, eyes softening. "I didn't know that," he settled hoarsely.
"You weren't supposed to," she shrugged. "I never told a single soul that I had… brief reactive psychosis… and drove four hours up to see you and didn't even talk to you. At least, not until today."
"Why are you telling me now, then?"
"Because," she responded, finally uprooting herself from her position and climbing up the deck, taking the camping chair next to Derek. "You had that look the other day, like you really believed I didn't love you. I did, Derek. I do," she said, looking straight into his eyes. "You just didn't let me finish talking."
He smiled at her slightly. "You love me?"
"Yeah," she replied, returning the smile. "I love you. I don't think it was ever a question of that." She paused. "But is it enough to start a relationship? Is it enough that we love each other?"
"Addie," he sighed. "I'm done wasting time. Haven't we wasted enough time as it is?"
She seemed to consider that and then nodded, turning her gaze to the land in front of her, so peaceful and serene. She could tell why Derek was drawn to this part of the wilderness.
"I love you," she repeated. "But I don't know if I'm ready for anything," she said honestly. "It's not you. Which sounds totally cliché, but it really isn't you. It's me. I have a thing… like fear… or something."
"What are you scared of?"
"Getting hurt again," she replied simply. "Do you get that?"
He nodded. "I do get that." He reached across and offered his hand. Addison took it without hesitation, the warmth of his palm so comforting in hers.
"Do you hate me for not wanting to move to Boston?"
"Addison—"
"When we fought, you said you wanted to stay together. And I figured, you know, that all these years you probably held on to so much hate because I didn't want to move out of New York."
"I don't hate you Addie."
"Really?"
He sighed. "I really disliked you. And I really disliked you not even wanting to try long distance," he replied honestly. "But it's not hard to see that it was the right choice for you to stay in New York. It's not bullcrap. I know I said we feed other people bullcrap about ending on mutual terms—maybe to some extent it's BS. But there's also truth to it. I realize that now." He paused. "Do you think I should have stayed?"
She shook her head. "No. Boston was what was best for you." She felt him squeeze her hand before he pulled away, digging for something in the back pocket of his jeans. Addison watched him carefully.
"I never got over you," he said as he fiddled with his pocket. He pulled out his old leather wallet, one that folded right in the middle, worn and used. He handed it to her.
Addison raised a brow at the proffered item. "Are you giving me… money?" she asked with a hint of amusement in her tone.
He laughed. "Just go take a look."
"I'm almost scared to. Will there be a photo of me in there in some weird 90s updo that you've held on to for the past 8 years?"
He laughed harder at that. "No," he said, but his eyes were soft. "Just take a look."
Still looking at him dubiously, she tentatively took his wallet and opened it. She frowned. It was nothing out of the ordinary. His credit card, a couple of singles mixed in with a couple of receipts.
"Check the side," Derek instructed her gently.
She did as she was told, peering open the side flap to reveal none other than…
"My ring," she whispered in amazement, pulling out her silver engagement ring from Derek's wallet, the one she had given back to him the night before he drove to Boston. She didn't expect the emotions, and her vision was suddenly clouded with unshed tears. "You kept it."
"Of course I did," he said. "It was in my wallet the entire time."
She met his eyes. "Derek…"
"I think it's why I never moved on completely," he explained. "You were always with me, wherever I went."
She sniffed, laughing lightly. "This is so freaking cheesy," she said, "but god, isn't this the sweetest thing?"
"I'm glad you think so," he laughed, eyes still soft and open.
"I hope you're not proposing," she warned jokingly, fingering the metal and relishing in its long forgotten weight. She held on to it, but couldn't try it on for size though. Didn't think she or Derek could take.
"Not yet," he replied. "But we'll get there, I think."
"You're sure of yourself."
"Addie, I'm sure about you," he said earnestly, with those McDreamy eyes she couldn't resist.
She held his gaze for a moment longer before she carefully slipped the ring back into his wallet and handed it back to him with a soft smile. "Keep it, Derek."
He nodded, taking his wallet back and putting it back in his pocket. There were long moments of silence between them, both of them lost in thought.
"Where are we, Addie?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
She exhaled briefly. "I don't know," she answered with truthfully. "I'm sorry, Derek. But I really don't know yet."
He nodded once, understanding all that she meant. "Take your time," he said. "I'm right here."
….
"There are options," Addison told her patient seriously. "We can do radio and chemo and buy you some more time."
Addison's patient, a slight 33-year old with Stage IV cervical cancer, just shook her head in response. "I don't want it," she said resolutely.
"Anna, I know this is a lot to process. But you don't have to decide right now. You can take a day or two to think about it."
"I don't want to think about it," she replied. "I'm just… done." Anna looked out the window, the Seattle sky grey, a tiny bit of snowfall on the windowsill. "I don't want to be stuck here in the hospital over what could possibly be my last Christmas with my family, Dr. Montgomery. I don't want to be here, killing myself through chemo that probably won't even work."
Addison nodded understandingly. "Do you have family, Anna? You shouldn't be alone right now."
She shook her head. "No. I mean, I have my parents. But I'm not married. I don't have kids of my own."
"I think your parents would like to be here. You know, to support you."
Anna was quiet, her gaze still on the light snowfall. "I'm 33 and I have cancer," she chuckled humorlessly.
Addison wanted to say it wasn't uncommon—that she'd seen patients even younger get diagnosed with cervical cancer at such a late stage. But she was sure it wasn't information her patient wanted or needed to hear at this point. It wouldn't make a difference. So she kept quiet.
"33 is so young," Anna said. "I thought I had my entire life ahead of me. People used to tell me, life doesn't begin 'til you're 40 anyway," she continued, still not looking at Addison. "There are so many things I wish I did."
"There's still time," Addison replied gently. "You have a little more time."
"Not enough time," Anna said sadly, shaking her head. "Not enough."
Addison nodded. There really wasn't much she could say. Anna was only stating the truth, and she could only just imagine how it felt like to be so young and have the rest of life snatched so suddenly from your hands.
"Are you married, Dr. Montgomery?" she asked, finally meeting Addison's gaze.
"No, I'm not," Addison replied. Well, she wasn't. She was a divorcee. But it didn't seem like the time to make it about herself.
Anna nodded curtly. "Anyone special?"
Addison frowned, trying to decipher her patient's train of thought. "You could say that."
Anna smiled. "I had someone special," she said. "I thought we'd have a bit more time to sort things out, but I guess now… now there won't be enough time for it." She laughed a little. "Damn, I didn't know how hard this was going to be," she said as a tear escaped her eye. "This is what regret feels like."
Without speaking, Addison stood up and took a box of tissue from the table and handed it to her patient. She didn't know what else to say. She was familiar with regret—too familiar in fact. This wasn't the first time she's broken news of a terminal illness to a young patient, but Anna was different. She was so full of life when she first started seeing Addie, and the diagnosis extinguished all of that in front of Addison's own eyes. It wasn't fair.
"Don't let time pass you by, Doc," Anna said. "I'm sure you've heard this from all of your dying patients, but it's absolutely true. I don't think anything sucks more than knowing you've reached the finish line and you still haven't done everything you ever wanted to."
"Anna…"
"I heard the nurses talking," she interrupted, changing the topic mind-blowingly fast, pivoting hard. "At the waiting area, I heard them talking. About a certain Dr. Shepherd waiting in the wings for you."
"That is… astute of you but also… kind of inappropriate, isn't it?" Addison chuckled with a shake of her head, but still without any idea where Anna was going.
Anna smiled at that. "I guess so, yes. But they weren't exactly discrete, and I really like you Dr. Montgomery. So is this Dr. Shepherd the 'someone special' you have?"
"It's complicated," Addison replied with a wave of her hand.
"They said he was dreamy," she giggled. "The nurses here seem to have too much time and not enough work."
"I agree with you on that a hundred percent." Addison laughed. The Seattle Grace grapevine was truly one for the books—a beast of its own, more than anything Addison had ever encountered in any hospital she'd worked in. It was the most efficient gossip mill.
"Anyway, this dreamy doctor… he's the special one?"
Addison nodded slowly. "Yeah, he's pretty special," she admitted slowly.
"Good," Anna declared with a nod. "He makes you happy?"
"Anna, I don't think—"
"Oh come on, just answer the dying girl's question."
Addison made a face at that. She was almost certain Anna was going to play the "dying girl" card with her, and she did. "Fine, yes. He does."
"Then go for it. Stop wasting time. Don't think. Just do it. Just go for it. Trust me when I say there is nothing worse in the world than thinking you have the time and then God telling you time's up." She paused. "I really like you, Dr. Montgomery. So this is me imparting some sacred wisdom only a dying chic would know," she said, a glint in her eye, a flicker of the spunk Addison recognized in her from their early days as doctor and patient.
"And what is that?"
"Go get him and don't look back. We don't know how much time we still have, and you don't want to be wasting it overthinking or regretting. They say this in that musical Rent—are you familiar?"
"Yes, actually," Addison replied. "I'm familiar." She saw it on Broadway with Derek in 1996, when it had just opened and people were in absolute applause over it.
"Forget regret—"
"Or life is yours to miss," Addison finished with a smile.
Anna returned the smile. "Your dying patient's dying wish? No day but today, Dr. Montgomery."
No day but today.
….
Christmas Eve. Definitely not how anyone would have thought to celebrate the impending holiday. Code Triage. 12-care pile up on the freeway. Bad weather. All hands on the freaking deck. From 5pm when Addison was supposed to go home, to 2am when she was dead tired, she was in one OR after another, begging the gods that be to please, please send the patients over the Mercy West. She was exhausted.
She exhaled a tired breath as she stretched her limbs and massaged the back of her neck, walking out of the scrub room to check the board. Her neck felt especially sore after operating on a severely challenging patient. The patient pulled through, thank god. But Addison was absolutely dead tired.
"You too?"
She looked up to see Derek standing in front of the board, a sympathetic expression on his face. The OR Complex had calmed down enough that there was only the two of them, with most of the surgeries having finished an hour ago, and only a few still ongoing. He looked exhausted too.
"3 surgeries back to back," Addison replied. "Running on so much adrenaline."
"Weren't you just on a 16-hr shift?" Derek asked with concern.
She shrugged. "I was about to leave when I got paged. Call of duty."
Derek nodded, walking to the board and then unceremoniously sliding down to sit on the ground, his back to the wall. They used to assume the same position, when they were overworked interns who savored every minute they weren't on their toes.
"Come on, let me help you with your neck. It must be killing you."
Addison didn't even have to think twice. She made her way in front of Derek, who in turn made space so she was sitting between his legs, her back plush on his chest. Just like in internship. Gently, he ran the pads of his fingers on the sides of her neck, down to her shoulders, massaging the knots that had formed, knowing precisely where she usually got tight. Addison closed her eyes, let Derek deftly maneuver his fingers to relax her, pausing once to kiss her temple lightly.
As Derek continued his ministrations, she was struck by a thought, memory of long past—of Derek running his hands through her bare back over a particularly difficult Christmas with her parents.
"Do you remember that one Christmas?" Addison asked quietly.
"Which one?" he replied, a hint of a smile in his tone. "We've had so many together, Addie. You're going to have to be a bit more specific."
She frowned. "The only Christmas we spent at my parents' house in Hartford."
Derek didn't pause, but he nodded. "Yeah, I remember," he confirmed.
That was a terrible Christmas—the one that made them decide never again to spend the holidays with Addison's family. It was the year they had gotten engaged, and they decided to spend Christmas at Addison's and New Year's at Derek's. Addison had felt it was a terrible idea from the get go, but Derek had always been more optimistic than she was, and assured her it would be a relatively tolerable evening as long as they were together.
"Bizzy was so drunk," Addison replied. "She said all these horrible things…"
"I remember," Derek said, squeezing her shoulders and then wrapping his arms around her waist. He didn't really want to reminisce over that. Bizzy had been absolutely terrible that evening. She had thrown thinly veiled insults and subtle backhanded comments disguised in sweet tones or carefully thought out phrases that played on Addison's insecurities from childhood. Addison had mommy issues and daddy issues, and she would never admit it but she wanted desperately to please her mother. So when Bizzy made comments about Addison's dress, the way she wore her hair, how tiny her engagement ring was or how lowly Derek was—they all played at her deep-seated need to impress Beatrice Forbes Montgomery.
Derek remembered Addison being unusually quiet. Bizzy kept talking, and Addison, the woman who had the strongest fighting spirit he'd ever seen, had been reduced to mere silence. It was unnerving, and it made Derek immediately uncomfortable. He had spent little time with Addison's family before then—insignificant amounts of time, at least. But that Christmas dinner, he had seen the side of Addison's family that she so often spoke brokenly about. He could scarcely believe that someone as loving and kind as Addison could come from such a dysfunctional family.
Bizzy had been on an absolute roll. They were subtle at first that Derek didn't even realize they were insults until he started paying more attention. Addison just sat there and took it all in stride, quieter and quieter as the evening grew. He watched her fidget in her seat, only to be told it was unladylike to fidget. And she would frown, only to be told that the furrow in her brow would make her look 10 years older than she really was by the time the wedding came. Absolutely nothing Addison did that evening went unnoticed, and it amazed Derek how Addison just swallowed everything down in an attempt to keep the peace.
And then Bizzy threw a series of punches that made Derek angrier by the moment.
Addison, dear, are you going to drink another glass of wine? That's going to go straight to your hips. And when that happens, Derek will only stay because you're a Montgomery, but he'll find someone else to bed. Let me tell you, your appeal is only sadly superficial, dear.
Derek's face went red, not just because Bizzy had insinuated that he was only marrying Addison for her physical attributes and for her money (which was absolutely absurd!)—but more so because he had reduced all of Addison's larger than life achievements to nothing. She viewed her so worthlessly, it was difficult to fathom why.
Derek, dear, are you sure you want to marry Addison? None of my friends' sons from the Women's League seem to be interested. They've all declined a dinner or two.
It was no secret that Bizzy wasn't absolutely thrilled that her daughter was marrying outside of high society. But it surprised Derek that, in her drunken haze, Bizzy had somehow implied that he was better off marrying someone else. It was the most confusing thing he'd ever encountered. And when he turned to look at Addison, she was deathly pale, fidgeting with the table napkin on her lap, eyes shifting away so that Derek didn't have to see the loneliness in them. He recognized immediately, without so much as a second glance, the defeat that sat so unnervingly on her shoulders—defeat she never would have stood for outside of that house. Away from Bizzy. It made Derek's blood boil.
Addison sighed at the memory. "I still can't believe you stood up for me," she said.
"Addie, anyone would have stood up for you," Derek replied. "It was character assassination—and one you completely did not deserve. I wasn't going to let anyone, not even your own mother, talk to my fiancée like that."
It had come to a point where Derek couldn't take any more of it. He had tried taking his cue from Addison, trying his best to match her perfectly stoic face and to take it all in stride. But when Bizzy had so obviously belittled Addison in a way that was severely unjust, Derek could not hold his tongue any longer. It unnerved him that Addison could just take it all in without saying a word.
You don't know her. You don't know anything about her. Addison is the sweetest, smartest, most competent human being I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. It's unreal that you guys are related to her, because you're all so obviously indifferent. But if you opened your eyes and gave even an ounce of care, you'd see that you're hurting the best thing that could have ever happened to your lives.
Derek had fumed, ignoring Addison's admonishments about leaving the matter.
Derek, dear, there's no need to be so crass. Addison isn't hurt. It's just how we are in this family.
If that's the case then you have lost all respect I ever had for you.
Bizzy stood up to slap Derek in the face, but Archer, quick as a fox, had held her back while Addison pushed Derek aside. Derek had promptly pulled away and took Addison by the hand. We're leaving, he had declared, and Addison could only send Archer a pleading look before she followed Derek out the door. It was a miracle wedding plans even took shape after that evening.
"Did I ever thank you for that?" she asked curiously, her heart suddenly filled with emotion. No one had ever stood up for her against Bizzy. Not the Captain. Not even Archer. But her fiancé, who knew full well Bizzy never liked being wrong, had the gall to call her out on her insults and defend his fiancée. And in her own house, for that matter.
Derek paused, reliving that evening. "You were really quiet in the car," he recalled.
She nodded in agreement. "You were seething. I remember you were clutching the steering wheel so tight, I was worried about your hands."
"Bizzy didn't see what you were worth," he murmured into her hair.
"But you did."
He inhaled sharply. He did. Until he didn't. Until he let his career take the front seat and forgot all about the worthiness of Addison Forbes Montgomery.
"Were you mad that I yelled at Bizzy?"
"I think I was, for a bit," she replied thoughtfully. "But after a while, I realized your intentions. I thought it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me."
"Bizzy was out of line."
"She usually is." She paused, and then looked up to meet his eyes. "Thank you… you know. For that. For telling Bizzy off. I knew I chose well after that night. If my boyfriend had the balls to yell at Bizzy, he was probably a keeper."
"Well, don't mention it," he replied lightly, kissing the top of her head. He hadn't thought about that Christmas in ages. It was so horrendous that both he and Addison had buried it in the deepest recesses of their minds. He was surprised she had even brought it up. But something about the memory triggered a primal need in him to protect her, to love her, to make sure nothing and no one would ever hurt her.
Before she could reply, one of the OR doors opened and the team wheeled out the last patient from the car wreck. Taking it as a cue to leave, Derek stood up and then extended a hand to Addison.
"Will you be driving home at this hour? You look exhausted."
Addison shrugged. "I don't know."
"Stay in an on call room, Addie. I don't think you're fit to drive in this state."
Addison made a face. "Thanks."
"Don't do that," he smiled, leading her out of the OR and to an empty call room. "Rest," he said.
"What about you?"
"I have to check on a patient," he said. "But you go get some rest. You've been up on your feet more than 24 hours at this point."
For a moment, she looked like she was about to argue. But then her exhaustion made itself known, her eyes suddenly drooping, craving for sleep. "Okay," she acquiesced, giving him a short kiss on the cheek and then disappearing behind the door.
Derek watched her longingly before he turned on his heel and left.
…..
Addison very rarely slept well in on call rooms. As an intern and resident, she was okay. But as an attending who had the luxury of actually going home at night when she wasn't on call, call room beds felt less hospitable than they did when she was younger.
It was why, despite being bone tired, she woke up way too early, after only a few hours of sleep. She was disoriented at first, blinking her eyes and trying to recall where she was. And then it came back to her—the pile up, 3 ORs, and Derek giving her a delicious back massage before leading her to sleep. She looked around the room. She was alone. She hoped Derek would have made an appearance somewhere in the middle of the night to rest, but from the looks of it, she'd been alone the entire time.
She sighed, her mind drifting to the conversation she and Derek had about Bizzy. She doesn't remember ever thanking him properly for that, or telling him how much it meant to her that he defended her. All her life she had been plagued with insecurities Bizzy had brought on, believing she could never shake them off. All the men she had brought to meet her parents didn't seem to know what to do about it. Matthew, who was used to the same treatment from his own mother, just kept his mouth shut the way Addison kept her mouth shut around Marsha, his mother. It was standard WASP protocol. But Derek? Derek dared to break the mold, to defy the rules and talk back—refreshing and infuriatingly cavalier. In retrospect, it was straight out of a soap opera.
Staring at the drab ceiling overhead, Addison wondered why that memory surfaced to begin with. She had conveniently put that in a box and labelled it with a huge "DO NOT OPEN", not trusting herself to be emotionally stable enough to recall any of Bizzy's uncharitable comments towards her. She surmised it was the unfortunate mix of a lack of sleep, sheer exhaustion, Derek's intoxicating nearness, and a yearning in her heart she was slowly trying to make sense of.
Ever since she had admitted to Derek that she loved him, driving all the way to a piece of land that was so far from civilization she wondered if she was going to get nabbed, she couldn't get Derek out of her mind. And with Anna reminding her that there was no day but today, she had steadily confronted the reasons she was fearful of a relationship with Derek, taking them apart in her head, playing around with them, finding answers to some questions and only more questions to some.
The first and foremost fear was the fear of getting hurt. She had put her heart on the line for Derek once before, and he had unwittingly squashed it so that it was hard to put the pieces back together long after it happened. With the benefit of hindsight and a whole lot of experience, she seemed to think the fear could be ungrounded—Derek had said he was serious and ready to commit, and they were both absolutely miserable when they ended the first time that she was certain they would do the best they could not to go through it again.
But she was also scared of loving Derek. Or, more specifically, the magnitude of her love for him. It scared her that she had the capacity to love someone so ferociously, space in her heart to care for someone with a fierceness she had never imagined. It was a power she did not know how to harness without hurting herself. Would she love him blindly? Would she lose herself in loving him? She didn't know. On the one hand, she was Addison Montgomery—independent and feisty and her own person through and through. No man could ever define her. But the past few months had taught her that she had the capacity to love without limits, sometimes to her detriment, that she was uncertain she'd know where to draw the line to keep from hurting herself. Besides, she had changed so much in the past 10 years. So had Derek. They weren't the same people as they were back when they were maddeningly crazy about each other.
She supposed that was what relationships were for. Partnership. Give and take. Check and balance. Constant change and constant devotion despite all that. Derek loved her enough to let her know if she was being unfair to herself, and she loved him enough to let him know the same. So what was holding her back, really? What was the valid reason for skittering around a relationship with him, when all the answers seemed clear as day?
The door to the call room softly opened, and her eyes drifted to see who had opened it. In the small gap was Derek's cautious face, checking to see if she was awake.
"Derek?"
The door opened wider.
"Hey," he said. "I thought for sure you'd still be asleep."
"I could say the same for you," she replied, sitting up on the bed. "Did you get any sleep at all?"
"I got a cat nap," he said, handing her a steaming cup. "Juju," he explained.
She accepted the paper cup graciously, the blowing out the steam and then smiling at him. "Merry Christmas, Derek."
"Merry Christmas, Addie," he smiled, leaning in slightly. Addison acquiesced and met his lips in a short but sweet kiss. The first after more than 8 years. It sent lightning through their bodies.
She pulled back, smiling shyly and then taking a sip of the hot chocolate. "Do you at least feel rested enough to drive?" she asked.
He nodded in return. "I should be okay. I'll probably spend all day sleeping though."
"What a way to spend Christmas," she answered ruefully. The holidays this year approached much too fast. She had sent out presents and made sure to get Derek's nieces and nephews something nice from the catalogue. But somehow she didn't even think about what she would do on the actual day, didn't have any plans except maybe to watch The Sound of Music on cable and wrap herself up in a blanket.
"It's been an eventful night," he said.
She nodded in agreement. "Much too eventful for Christmas."
"Will you be okay to drive?" he asked, eyes narrowing and assessing her current state. "You don't look like you slept all that well."
"I didn't," she replied flatly. "But I'll be damned if I have to stay in this hospital longer than I have to. I'll be okay to drive," she assured him.
"If you say so," he answered skeptically, giving her another once over before taking a sip of his juju.
"You and Mark have anything planned today?"
"Mark is on call today," he said. "Not the most ideal holiday season, to be honest."
"Poor Mark."
"He'll be fine. He doesn't celebrate much anyway—not unless it's with my family."
Addison nodded in understanding. "Mark may as well be Mark Shepherd since you guys have nearly adopted him anyway."
He laughed. "He's an honorary Shepherd."
"He is," she agreed, ignoring the small voice in the back of her head telling her she could be a Shepherd too.
They finished their juju in companionable silence, relishing in the nearness of the other but not wanting to interfere with the reverence of the moment. It felt like a flashback to internship and residency, camping out in an on call room with a drink in hand, no words needed, their presence enough for the other. Addison wondered how she ever lived without it after Derek left.
When their cups were empty and there was nothing more to be done, Derek quietly led Addison to the locker room where they both got into their street clothes. He walked her to her car, gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, wished her a Merry Christmas, and watched her drive home, a little hope bubbling in his chest.
….
When Addison awoke a few hours later on Christmas day, after collapsing on her bed right when she got home from the hospital, she was filled with a newness she couldn't quite describe. Outside, there was light snowfall, far lighter than Manhattan on Christmas day, and after the conversation with Derek in the OR, she felt… well… magical.
She remembered the way Derek had held her in his arms, massaged the knots on her upper back, held her close and whispered only reassuring things to her ear. She remembered how much she missed all of that—how safe she felt. There was nothing quite like being loved by Derek Shepherd.
It was late afternoon by the time she rolled out of bed and bundled herself up in winter clothes. She wasn't entirely certain why she felt a magnetic desire to seek Derek out, but it was Christmas. And the magic of Christmas coupled with the magic of finally admitting to herself and to Derek how much she loved him urged her on.
And just as she did a couple of days ago, she pulled her Mercedes next to Derek's jeep out on Derek's land. He was on the porch, dressed warmly and cupping what she could only assume was a cup of coffee.
"You're trespassing on private property," he declared as she stepped out of the car. "I wouldn't take you for a repeat offender."
She rolled her eyes as she walked to the deck, this time wearing more sensible footwear than the last time she came.
"I didn't think it was trespassing if I was coming to spend Christmas with my boyfriend."
There was a short pause between the two of them, Addison feeling self-conscious and inside loathing the term "boyfriend" for she felt much too old for it. But she had said it anyway, because it was a start. Derek stared at her for a short moment before realization struck and he smiled widely. Addison was never one for big and grand gestures. She savored nondescript, quiet moments that spoke volumes without saying too much.
"Well then," he replied, recovering from the shock and clearing his throat. "Said boyfriend is indeed in need of some company for the holidays."
She grinned then, a mutual understanding passing between them as he helped her up on the deck. He pulled her close as she got her balance, inhaled the scent of her hair and relished in her warmth as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I think this is the best Christmas gift I've ever received," he murmured into her hair.
She laughed lightly. "You're sappy."
"It's the truth," he replied as she pulled away. She only smiled in return, contentment settling comfortably in her bones as he led her inside the trailer.
….
"Do you really have to go to work today?" Derek asked, comfortably snuggled under the warm comforters of Addison's bed, watching languidly as she prepared for her day.
"I have an important meeting with the board this afternoon," she said as she held up two almost identical white blouses. "This one, or this one?" she asked.
Derek looked between the two alarmingly similar white tops and pointed to the one on the right. "That one," he said, hoping he sounded surer than he felt. "Classy, but also a beat of a tease. The board and Mr. Von Hapsburg can't resist that I think."
She smiled at him gratefully, nodding in approval as she pulled out a black pencil skirt.
"What time will you be home?" he asked, shifting so he was sitting up against the headboard, bare chested.
"The meeting is the last thing on my agenda today," she answered distractedly. "But it's your day off, honey. Don't plan around me. Go. Fish. Chop wood. Wear flannel."
"Maybe I'll come see you at the hospital," he said, watching her neatly tuck in the white blouse into her pencil skirt.
"Don't," she warned, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. "You get one day off every 10 years or so. Don't spend it at the hospital."
"Maybe I just want to see you," he pouted.
She rolled her eyes, walking over to him to give him a slight peck on the lips. "That's sweet, honey, but we've been together 27 out of the 24 hours of each day since Christmas, and a little space would be okay."
"I'd spend 30 out of the 24 hours—"
"Stop."
"I'm just saying," he grinned. "We've lost enough time already. The only reason you should be out of my sight is when you're operating."
"I know you intend to be sweet, but that's incredibly unhealthy," she laughed, taking a hairbrush and running it through her red locks.
He paused for a moment, just watching her. Brushing her teeth, combing her hair, putting on her work clothes, fixing up her face. He was struck by the ordinariness of it all—this domestic life, a routine they had mastered so many years before. It felt surreal to be living it all over again.
They were inseparable since Christmas day, little words needed to convey the direction in which they wanted to go towards. It was the beauty of their relationship—mutual, respectful understanding rooted firmly in love and commitment. He didn't have to ask what had changed or her mind or what had convinced her to finally give them both a chance. After all, it didn't matter. What mattered was her, them, their shared future founded on the lessons they had learned from their past. Nothing else had to be said. It was what made them Addison and Derek.
Lightly, he stood up and made his way to Addison's kitchen, pouring himself and Addie a cup of coffee she already had running before she hopped into the shower. He added a splash of milk in his and kept hers black, the way she liked it, and carried the mugs carefully into the bedroom.
Addison was in the middle of putting her hair in a bun when he set her coffee mug on the dresser next to her.
"You're an angel," she said gratefully, angling so that Derek could kiss her lightly on the lips.
"Anything to keep my girl happy," he winked, sitting on the edge of the bed behind Addison, their eyes meeting briefly through the dresser mirror.
"Coffee is definitely the way to a girl's heart," she said as she took some hairspray to tame a rebellious strand of hair. "At least a surgeon's."
"That's true," he conceded, taking a sip of his coffee.
From his vantage point, Addison looked beautiful. Her hair was neatly arranged, her clothes were well pressed, and her face seemed brighter even without any make up. Admittedly, he preened at taking some credit for that. He was almost certain he had something to do with the way Addison seemed happier in the past few days—something he hoped would last.
He and Addison, they weren't a sugar high. They were the real thing. He wasn't fooling himself into thinking it would always be sunshine, because experience had taught him that it never was. But at least now, they had sturdier anchors, stronger foundations, that it was almost guaranteed they would make it. Call him optimistic, but to him it was only the truth. He savored the bliss, the newness of their newly established relationship, but also looked forward to the times when things would be less blissful, more ordinary, safe in the knowledge that they were stronger together.
"Honey, if you find the time today, do you mind grabbing those single origin coffee beans that Paul recommended?"
Honey, don't forget to run the load in the washer.
Honey, turn the AC off. It's freezing here.
It's too bright, honey. Why don't you turn that lamp off and we can go to bed.
I ran the bath for you, honey.
"I will," he promised.
She smiled at him from the mirror and then proceeded to clasp on a simple gold necklace. The lipstick would go last, Derek was certain. She'd have to finish her coffee first before she did that.
He stood up to help her with the necklace, kissing the top of her head lightly as he finished the task.
"I love you," he said meaningfully.
"I love you, too," she grinned, throwing her head back so Derek could kiss her on the lips.
In less than a week since Christmas, his toothbrush was next to hers in the bathroom. She was buying the kind of milk he liked in his coffee. He was picking up fruits for her at the grocery. The cereal he liked was in Addison's pantry. The trailer had fresh sheets and more pillows and a coffee maker that could make more than one cup of coffee at a time. There was no doubt in his mind that this was where exactly they were supposed to be. He and Addison were always meant to be together, in every lifetime they found themselves in. It might have taken a while for it to happen in this one, but it was always bound to.
AN: And we've come to the end! Thanks for sticking around until the final chapter! I have a lot more Addek story ideas in my mind, but they will probably have to wait until the rest of the world calms down. Hoping you all have a happy and healthy new year! Keep safe, everyone!