Derek and Addison reminisce on their memories from medical school.

"C'mon then. Let's talk about the real reason you're in Seattle."

"I'm in Seattle because my patients need me."

Namoi snorted. "You only accepted said patients because you knew it would be a great chance to snoop on Derek after his accident."

Addison sighed. "It was a factor, okay?"

"So, how is he?"

"He's...he is-" Addison swallowed, but didn't use that time to rationally think about what she was about to say. "He is in a wheelchair. Sustained an SCI in the crash and the neurological damage screwed up his legs. Permanently."

"He is what?" Naomi exploded through the phone.

"Paralyzed." Sam muttered besides her, their hands finding themselves conjoined. It was supposed to be a pleasant call about how Seattle was and how well Derek was doing after the accident. That quickly turned when they inquired about their friend from med school. "Derek. Shepherd. Is paraplegic?"

"It's incomplete paraplegia but still...it's- unbelievable. Unbelievably...horrible. I tried to- you know, be good about it. I tried not to react that much or anything but I-" She stopped walking length-wise on the Grey-Shepherd's decking and turned the other way. "It was difficult not to just-"

"Yeah." She sighed. She didn't need to continue for Naomi to know what she meant. "I can only imagine. Or...not. I'm not sure I can imagine that. But- he's okay? I mean- being in a chair permanently, Addie that's-"

"He's happy, like, really happy. Operating, making those stupid quips of his, apparently completely oblivious to anything bad about...it, doing his best for Meredith and their kids, he's...completely fine." She reassured her when she gave up on talking, although she was still pacing.

"He operates?" Sam asked, his voice bordering on something close to outraged, although that wasn't the emotion that he was trying express at all. It was just shock, really. "In a wheelchair?"

"Yeah, his SCI is low so he has no upper body deficits and neurosurgery is one of the few specialties that you can sit for. Still world-class: completed the surgery in less than the average time, no mass bleeder, no codes, you know, standard neurogod Derek stuff. You wouldn't- I mean- you know, I basically forgot all about the fact that-"

"-I can't walk?" The referenced neurosurgeon suggested, his voice coming out of the darkness.

Addison jumped and looked round to see him sat there, just past the doorway, smirking at her. Her red face, to be specific. Its shade was halfway between the light tone it was before, and the colour of her hair. "Derek- I- uh, hi."

"I came to ask you if you wanted a drink. But if you wanna continue, now I know what you're discussing, feel free to come inside and talk instead." He offered. He didn't look offended at the fact that she was taking about him. If anything, he found it extremely funny, judging by the entertained look on his face.

"It's uh- just Nay. And Sam."

He wasn't surprised. Her and Naomi were glued together in med school, sometimes to the point that it was annoying and interruptive in their relationship, and Sam and Naomi had been remarried a couple of years ago; it made sense that they were sharing a call. "Hey Naomi, Sam!" He said, voice raised a little so they would be able to hear him.

Addison placed the phone on the table as she pulled out a chair before setting call to loudspeaker. "Uh- hi...Derek." Naomi greeted.

He exchanged a look with Addison, confused about why she was struggling to get words out. "Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Sam?" Derek inquired at Naomi's stiff response.

"Oh- yeah. I'm good."

"I told them about...the thing like five seconds ago. Like literally five seconds ago." Addison explained.

"Oh, you're in that shocked period. It will wear off soon enough. It always does." He reassured them. He had explained his situation to enough people to know what it was like.

"Mmm. Not sure it will." Sam noted.

"Excuse me?" Naomi asked, intrigued by what he meant by that.

"Naomi has a fear of wheelchairs."

"Sam!" She exclaimed. She shot him a death stare but, of course, neither Addison nor Derek saw that. Derek simply sent a confused look to the woman he was with.

"It's true!"

"That is not true, I do not have a fear of chairs! God, the things you people say to me."

"Still your favourite nerdy neurosurgeon that you secretly hate for breaking Addie's heart a whole ten years ago Nay. Nothing has changed. It doesn't change anything but my ability to access buildings with stairs and play soccer. That's it." He reassured her.

She smirked a little, giving Sam a see-I-told-you look. "I know that, Derek. He's just being an idiot, winding me up."

"He is not winding you up." Addison interjected.

"What?"

"Fife. You had a serious problem with him at first."

"Who?" Derek asked, confused.

"A guy that worked at Naomi's practice." Addison elaborated. "I remember you telling me that you couldn't say no to what he was asking because it felt morally wrong to reject the ideas of a guy in a wheelchair because...you felt sorry for him? You have problems Nay. You have a proper fear of them."

"You joined in! You pulled a face about the idea!"

Derek smirked. "You know you get extra teeth. Sharper nails. And you lose the ability to properly smile, so you always look really angry and threatening. Really, really scary. We use it to scare away people who might threaten us with broken elevators and airports."

"Oh, shut up." She sighed. "I'm over...that. Now. Because of him. He helped."

"Mmm. More ways than one." Addison hummed.

"My husband is listening Addie!"

"He knew. It's not a secret. Besides, I was having Martinis with Charlotte once and she told me about that lovely book you got off of her."

"Maybe Derek wants it now. I could ask her to send a copy over." Naomi suggested. She wanted to get one back on him for his jokes.

"What kinda book?" Derek asked cautiously, detecting suspicious jokes as he looked between the phone which read 'Naomi' and Addison.

"Let's just say that Charlotte is a sexologist. So she...has books on sexology."

"Oh. Yeah. Not in need of that." He said with a smug grin.

Addison eyed him. Because he didn't have sex or because he didn't have any problems with having it? was the question her face was asking. She didn't think he would be smiling like that if it was the former. He didn't go round screwing random people like Mark, but he was always very busy with the person he was with. Sex, in the happy parts of their marriage at least, was frequent and often started by him.

"How many bases do you get to?"

"I don't talk about it. With anyone. Ever. Because I know people are-" He sighed. "You can guess how people are about it."

They thought he was rather odd for that; they always talked about it. Years ago and now. The only reason they stopped with the ultra-spicy gossip was because everyone from the practice settled with someone so there were no shocking partnerships or betrayals.

"I'm talking about baseball; I don't know what you're talking about."

Apparently, they were those nosy people. He sighed.

"C'mon man. Say something."

"Six, if you really have to know." He answered.

"There's only four bases." Sam pointed out.

"Only four bases that you know about, you mean. I have extra ways of- using that baseball bat which you haven't even heard of."

Addison smirked at his use of metaphor. She loved her husband very, very much. But that didn't mean she couldn't remember how earth-shattering sex with him was. "I can confirm that he has at least five bases. But I'm offended you never showed me the sixth."

"It's a new one. See you get this pamphlet that introduces you to your new and wonderful life, and, at the back, there's a page that gives you some new and improved tricks. You know, seeing as you're so scary that no woman would ever want to go near you, when you finally get one, you would probably want her to stay."

Sam snorted. "Just answer me one question."

"Uh- I'm gonna regret it, but okay."

"Have you ever done it...like- in the chair before?"

"No." He refused freely. He had...considered it. He hadn't considering doing it, he had just thought about how. How it would work. If it was possible. What Meredith would think of the idea. Someone at the group had talked about it once and Derek found himself exchanging a look with his wife. He had no idea if that was disgust or intrigue. He didn't even know if the guy was kidding or not when he said it was something he did with his wife.

"No, no, no. Sam he's lying!" Addison exclaimed. "You can't see the face I can see!"

"I haven't!"

"I'm siding with Addie. She never lies."

"She so does." Derek rebutted with a shake of his head.

"Fine, then I'm choosing to take her side because I want the answer to be yes."

"Too bad it's no then!"

"Sure Derek, we believe you." Sam teased.

"Do I get to talk about you yet?" Addison asked as Derek slid a glass of water across the island to her.

He gave a confused hum to ask for an elaboration as he returned to the fridge.

"You said that I had to talk first. And I did that. In surgery and the cafe. It was basically my entire life story from when I last saw you like three years ago to like- yesterday. So, your go."

The fridge slammed and he placed a milk bottle on the side. "I...I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"What do you want me to say?" He asked, putting the down both the bowl and bottle to talk to her just a little more formally. He knew she didn't mind; she had come for dinner and he was the one cooking it. "In an accident, coma for nine days, didn't get out of bed for six weeks, discharged after about ten, recovered at home for another few, started teaching interns, started doing physio, learnt how to walk and stand, had a court trial, the guy had a tumour, van went up the back of our car, lost my mind for a week but it turned out I was also actually dying from pneumonia, recovered from that (eventually), Callie told me that she was wrong when she said I'd walk properly again, gave up my ideals of only trying to be a surgeon again once I was out of this chair and asked for my job back anyway. Webber approved with an awful lot of conditions. That's it."

"That's it?" She repeated at an exclamation, even more aghast as he continued to make their tea as if nothing had happened. "Derek, none of those things are in any way insignificant!"

"My life is just...it's back to what it used to be now. Just...you know, with one absolutely massive difference." He sighed before pulling his lips up. He wasn't frowning before, he was just smiling now. "But I'm fine."

"You always liked saying you were fine."

"Okay, I'm good then." He corrected with a humoured smirk.

"Really?"

"I...I cried. And I shouted. And me and Mer fought. I tried my best to stay happy for my kids and my family, but it was hard...really hard. Callie told me I'd walk again. I disagreed. So the whole time I was just...it was bad, basically. Definitely didn't need Kathleen there to know I was depressed." He elaborated with very little care. It was a story he was used to telling.

"Amelia said you had pneumonia. Again."

He nodded. "It's quite a skill, isn't it?"

"Uh, no. I wouldn't quite call it a skill...but yeah, it's...fun."

"Mmm, yeah, real fun."

"So...that thing you just said. About losing your mind and having pneumonia...at the same time? Did you lose your mind because you had pneumonia? Or for some other reason?" She asked, stabbing in the dark for some kind of explanation for why those two things were linked.

"My mind blocked it. All of it. Then this guy didn't break at a light. And Mer and the kids were fine. They were all completely fine. But I wasn't. I have-" He sighed as he looked over to her, eyes settling straight on hers, dinner abandoned. "I have this distinct memory...of my car's door breaking. Cracking. Folding. Whatever word, I don't really know." He bit his lip and looked away for the next sentence, distracting himself from her by finding a pan from the cupboard. "But I also have a memory of the next noise. That...that was when the door was crushed inwards...and...and bones make a noise when they break."

His eyes flickered up to see her staring at him, rather horrified.

"Oh-" She whispered through an exhale after a good five seconds of processing what he had just said. "Oh, god."

"So I basically locked myself in the bedroom because I couldn't handle it. I didn't talk to anyone or look after myself. And I had just had surgery, cause you know, internally, I'm still a total mess-"

"And you developed post-op pneumonia?"

"And I developed post-op pneumonia." He concluded.

"He uh- he..." Addison tried, struggling to think of a coherent sentence, nevermind say one.

"His name is Derek Shepherd. He's 21. He's been off from uni for the past few days. I...we didn't know it was this bad. He's uh-" Mark swallowed. "Vomiting, dizziness, difficulty breathing, irregular heart rate, he uh- lost consciousness about six minutes ago and he...GCS of like 11. I think. I can't- he's-" He's my best friend, was what he planned to finish the sentence with, if he could. He couldn't do a summary on the possibly fatal condition of his best friend. But at least he could get words out.

"Thank you. It's okay, we can help him from here." He reassured the trio before the two pulled him up into a sitting position. One of them slipped the diaphragm of his stethoscope to his chest. "Deep breath."

Derek tried, only to break into another long cough, phlegm clogging the entirety of his throat.

"Okay, okay. I'll just do one on the back, okay?" The man returned to the choking, slipping the instrument down his t-shirt's back this time.

He didn't cough the second time, and that gave the man an opportunity to hear his 'breath'. It wasn't a breath at all.

"Your friends here told me you've been ill for a couple days. I can tell from listening to your breathing that you've got some problems with your lungs so I'm afraid we're going to have to take you to hospital in an ambulance immediately."

"Mmm." Derek hummed. "What's 'ong?"

"You have some kind of chest infection, but we'll have to wait for an actual diagnosis."

"'ike bronchi'us or 'onia." He mumured.

"You're a doctor...med student?" The man asked as he pulled on the strap of a oxygen mask before placing it over his face.

"Med student. We all are." Sam answered for him.

"I can't diagnose anything myself, you know that, but I'd take a guess at something like that." The man replied, looking a little worried. He hated it when the people he was picking up knew what they were saying. It made it much more terrifying. "So, I'm just gonna get you onto this gurney, then we're gonna take you to the ambulance waiting outside, okay?"

He gave a weak nod before he found two pairs of hands gripping his body and the whole world moved just a little. Then he was pushed back until his upper back and head met pillow.

"Can we come with you?"

"I can take two." He sighed, looking between the trio.

"It's fine, you two go, I'll find you." Sam offered, volunteering himself to be the lone friend. It made sense. When it came to the four of them, they split into an obvious trio.

They made it out of the flat in silence - although Addison had shot a wordless angry look at one of the nosy people on the street with unblinking eyes that spoke about a thousand different words. Swear words, mostly.

The first thing she did when she got into the back was pull out her phone. She could barely hold it, hands sweating so much. Fear flustered her.

"Hey, wondered when you'd call. How's Derek? Gonna be back to school tomorrow?"

Addison didn't answer. She couldn't, despite the fact that she was the one who made the call.

"Addie, are you in an ambulance?" Naomi asked, clearly hearing the sirens. At first, she assumed it to be a passing emergency vehicle. But the noise didn't stop. "Addie? Addie, why are you in an ambulance?"

Mark caught hold of her fear and offered a hand out for the phone. He knew who was on the end of the line. Him, Derek and Addison may have made a great trio, but Addison and Naomi had their own 'girl bestie' thing going on.

"Nai." He greeted as he pulled the phone to his ear.

"Mark. What's wrong? What's going on? Weren't you supposed to be going to Derek's? Why are you in an ambulance?"

He swallowed. "Derek...Derek is really sick."

"So you're in an ambulance?" She asked before her mouth dropped open. Mark could hear her confusion turn instantaneously to dread and fear and anxiety and worry and sadness. "Derek...he's-"

"Nay, he's really, really sick."

"How did Meredith find out? I mean- if- if you didn't talk to her, how did you get help?"

He sighed. He hated this part. "Amy found me. On the bedroom floor."

"Amy?"

"She told me that she's going to fine as long as I stop dying all the time. And that she doesn't care about the chair because I'm fine with it. If I'm honest though, I think it's mostly because she gets good parking spaces when I go with her and no one ever tell her off if she's late." He listed, trying to quench her worries.

Addison snorted. "Of course. Amy. What would I expect from Amy?"

"So she's fine. You know, no-" He swallowed as his voice dropped to whisper. "Uh- she told me she brought something just after the accident, but never took it. So she's still clean."

She smiled. "Good. And can I vote for the no-more-dying bit too. Please?

"But I have a reputation to uphold, you know? Someone threatened my number one spot of world's most unlucky man and I had to find myself another accident to get into." He joked. The first half, however, was not a joke at all. "Couldn't let anyone beat me."

"Right, sure." She returned, but she didn't look entirely convinced.

"She uh- once she told me that she managed to convince herself not to take anything because, before the trial, before we knew why he hit me-"

"It could have been drugs."

He nodded slowly. "She...she wouldn't have wanted to do that to anyone else. Because she knows what it's like. How- bad it is."

"Are you okay? Seriously?" She asked, noting his slight frown. 'Bad' wasn't the right word. It was so, so much worse than that.

He sighed. "I...I miss Mark."

"Me too."

"I mean, Meredith knew Mark but me, you and Mark...we were-" He sighed. He could talk about him and Lexie with Meredith, but he had grown up with the man and Addison was there for quite a lot of that time. "I don't think anything that happened to me would have if he was here. I mean- if it still happened, if I was still in an accident-"

"You would have been better quicker." She summarized to stop his rambles. "Because he was good at getting people to snap out of things."

"Mmm."

"He was good in a Derek-based crisis when he was like twenty, he would have been great at it now."

"Are we talking about the carrying-me-up-the-stairs thing or something else?"

An abrupt smile appeared. "Oh, our poor teacher. He was so confused."

"Mark carried you up the stairs? In your twenties?" Meredith repeated. The pair looked round to see her there, eyebrows raised a little.

Derek smirked. "I'll tell you about it when we have dinner. If was...fun."

"Mmm. I'm not sure I believe you."

"How was the group?"

"Good. Talked to Julianna a bit about...what it's like. Also talked to this guy called Mickey because his wife is the same as you and, you know, Kate is doing better now."

He nodded. "Told you that you wouldn't regret it."

She smiled. "Thank you. For the push."

"What group?" Addison whispered as Meredith disappeared again, wanting to keep her voice down so she wouldn't think she was nosy if she came back.

"We...we've had a lot of therapy. Separately and together. And we also go to support groups. Well, we were going to one for me, where I was allowed to bring someone else, but Meredith went to one as...it's like the people who are close to someone like me. Kate, she's this woman I met in physio, told me that most of the uh- plus ones, I suppose, from the group go there."

"So-" She swallowed. "None of this was easy to accept then."

"None of this is easy to accept. But I think I'm really getting there now."

Addison smiled. "I'm glad.

"Mark, could you take mine and Derek's bag?" Addison asked the man sat in front of them, utterly consumed by the textbook he was reading. She had already walked for what felt like miles and she decided she wasn't going to continue with the sheer weight of both of their bags when she spotted him sat outside their next lesson's building.

"Why?" He inquired, his running eyes falling to the bottom of the page before folding the right-hand corner over the other way. "Can't you carry your ow-" He paused as he looked up, his own bag hanging idly in his hand, zip un-zipped and book still not present inside for more than a few seconds as he looked his friend up and down.

"Hi." Derek greeted awkwardly at his friend's face

"What the hell happened to you?" He inquired, finally dropping his book into his bag as he shook off the surprise of seeing his best friend with what he could only presume was a broken arm and leg, an unhealed but stitched laceration that ran parallel with his nose on his forehead and sitting in a wheelchair being operated by his girlfriend.

"I hate cars." He grumbled.

"Is your bike okay?" He pondered, already knowing what happened despite his vague response.

He shook his head slightly. "Scrap metal."

"Sorry man. But you're okay, alive, I mean?"

"Evidently. And I am fine, really." He insisted, his eyes targeting Addison as he took a quick glance up to her. She chewed on her lip for a second at the glance, waiting for his eyes to leave her figure. "Well, what are you two waiting for? We've got cardio anatomy class to got to!"

Mark paused abruptly as they reached the elevator on the bulling ground floor, right by the back entrance of the rather modern-looking building. "Oh."

Derek looked back up, dragging the eyes that were previously sat in lap as he had attempted to dodge the eyes of other student and teachers through the building back up to look at the man who had just murmured. "What?"

He took a step back from the lift, making sure he was no longer blocking the piece of paper blue-tacked to the front of the metal doors.

It was out of order.

Of course it was out of order. He had used that very lift a hundred times and the time he really, undoubtedly needed to use it, it was inaccessible. He frowned, eyebrows creasing.

"Oh." Addison managed. She wasn't quite sure what else to say, so she simply stole Mark's exclamation.

He looked from Addison, then to Derek, his eyebrows equally as knitted as he attempted to come up with some kind of answer to their newfound problem. "Can you stand?"

He replied with a singular nod.

"Righty then." He expressed, looking at Derek expectantly.

He frowned. "What?"

"Go on." He instructed, his eyes still waiting for him to move.

"Now?" He inquired, his voice a little surprised.

"Unless you want to be late to class." He said with a quick shrug before pulling one arm out of his rucksack, letting it slide to the floor on the other.

Derek pulled himself up, his booted leg touched lightly to the floor, although he didn't dare to put any weight through it. He was thankful when Addison grabbed ahold of him, taking his hand so he could steady himself slightly.

"Now what?" He questioned, expecting Mark to do something after watching him so ardently, waiting for him to comprehend his plan.

"Now…" Mark grinned. "Tell me if this hurts."

"If what hu-" His words were pulled out of his mouth as Mark stepped forward towards him, scooping him off the ground in the process. "Mark!" Derek exclaimed as he found himself off the ground, half the exclamation coming from the surprise at what he did, and the other half from the pain as his left hand pressed against what he could only presume was one of his broken ribs as he adjusted him in his arms.

"What?" He inquired innocently, as if he had done nothing at all.

"There's three flights of stairs!" He expressed, the first thing that came to mind when he considered how ridiculous the idea was.

"So?" He questioned, not seeing the problem.

"So you're seriously going to carry me all the way up three flights?"

"Yeah." He returned, shrugging only ever so slightly despite the weight of his best friend in his arms. "Addie, can you bring our bags and stuff."

"Yeah- sure." She uttered as she watched the pair ascend the staircase, her mouth propped open with disbelief.

"Addison Forbes Montgomery. You're late." Dr Walker barked as she pulled open the door of the theatre. Dr Walker was her, Mark and Derek's cardiothoracic professor. A stern man who either gave her a state that burnt through her soul, or a kind glance. He was the definition of black and white.

"I know sir, I'm sorry. I just-" She paused abruptly, looking from her professor to the door that was still held open just a crack by her lingering hand. "Wait, shit."

"Excuse me?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow as he stood from his chair and stepped around his desk.

"I'll be right back." She said, sliding three backpacks off her back and placing them by the double doors before going through them.

She knew how weird that confrontation was before she even got half way through it.

Number one, she was late. And Addison Forbes Montgomery was never late.

Number two, she swore. And Addison Forbes Montgomery never swore.

Number three, she was wearing three backpacks. She didn't even wear backpacks, she had only just decided that her regular trapeze almost-purse like bag – although it was about three times the size to fit in all her medical textbooks – was never going to work. She changed to a backpack on her way out of the door, seeing as she promised she'd look after him and she needed two free hands to do that.

"Where are you going?" Mark asked as he saw Addison burst back into the stairwell. He was only a few steps away from the floor he was aiming for. It was actually the being able to see where he was going so he didn't trip up bit that was difficult, not holding Derek in his arms. He didn't pause his stepping as he spoke, determined to get to his destination as quickly as possible.

"Well, I can only presume that you're going to need your chair to get around up on this floor, right?"

"Right." He confirmed as he turned to watch her go down the stairs. He looked back up as he took the final step between the stair and the floor itself – the fourth floor – only to see a bewildered Dr Walker stood, staring at him.

"What the hell?"

There were three students in the space in front of him.

Addison was half way down the first flight of stairs, looking as flushed and in as much of a hurry as she was when she left the room, although she had paused at the sound of his voice.

Mark was stood at the top of the stairs, looking a little bit more tired than he did normally.

And then there was Derek. He was lying across Mark's arms, a booted leg folded slightly over where he held him with his right arm, Mark's forearm against the underside of his knee. His left arm was holding onto him on the anterior side of his thorax, hand curled round his middle ribs. Although, he couldn't actually see his hand, considering Derek's arm was folded to a right angle, covering it as he grabbed at his casted arm to, presumably, stabilize it as he was swayed with each step up the stairs.

"Derek was in a car accident." Mark explained as his professor looked him – and by extension, Derek – up and down multiple times in an attempt to absorb the shock of seeing...whatever in the world he was seeing.

"A motorcycle accident, actually."

"But I was wearing a helmet. And it wasn't my fault." Derek felt the need to explain. He didn't want his teacher to think he was some motorcycle obsessed, high, drunk maniac on the roads every night afterschool. Even if he was motorcycle obsessed and loved to drive his bike at night for the atmosphere of dusky lights and darkness. All of it except the high and drunk bit, basically.

"He broke his leg."

Addison took two more steps to reach where they were standing. "And his arm."

"And dislocated his shoulder." Mark added

"And had a grade III conclusion."

"And-" Mark started.

"The lift was broken." Derek interrupted, sick of hearing about his ailments.

"So Mark carried him up the stairs."

"But Addison forgot to bring up his wheelchair."

"So he wouldn't have been able to move."

His eyebrows creased as he looked over to Addison, Derek swinging in his arms slightly. "I could have carried him around."

"I don't think he would want to do that." Addison said pointedly.

"I don't think he would want that either." Derek murmured on third person, wishing his best friend would just put him down now.

"But-"

"Okay, okay. I get it." The teacher said, cutting off Addison's attempts. "Derek, are you okay to be here?"

"Yes sir, I'm fine. I just need to actually get into class." He said as Mark finally put him down, broken leg hovering and unbroken arm grasping at the corner of the nearest wall. Mark had placed him purposefully at a place he could easily hold himself up.

"You sure?"

"I wasn't here yesterday, I took that day to rest." He explained, glad when Addison continued her hurrying down the stairs so he could actually move somewhere. "I'm fine."

"Okay...obviously, you need to wait a minute for Addison. Just try not to disturb the class as much as she did."

"Will do." Mark agreed before their professor left.

The adjective awkwardness, while it was a good word to express embarrassing discomfort, could never describe what it was like entering that room. It was like a gut-clenching pain instead. After class (and a little in class) he was bombarded by questions. Thousands of questions.

Derek made a kind of eye-contact with Mark and Addison that told them he'd rather be tortured by an axe murderer than sit through the interrogation of his peers, but they weren't really sure what they were supposed to do about it. So they just watched. In fact, Mark even asked him whether or not he'd been given a foley catheter and, if he had, what it felt like, like the mean kind of friend he was.

The answer was no, thankfully. That was one thing he would most definitely not be explaining to him or anyone else in the room.

"What's a foley catheter?" Zola inquired as he finished the story.

"Oh." He breathed. Out of all the words she could have picked out. It wasn't dislocated or what RTC stood for or what a concussion was or anything he could give a comfortable paragraph answer to. It was that. "It's just something doctors use to help patients."

"Did you have one when you hurt?"

He swallowed, avoiding eye contact with both his wife and ex-wife. At least he could look into her eyes, she had no idea what she was saying to him really. "Yeah. I did."

Neither of them smirked, but he couldn't help the feeling that they wanted to.

"Addie, did yous know my daddy was hurts? He was away in the hospitals for a long time." She said, stretching the 'o' as she usually did for the word.

"I know. But he's better now, isn't he?"

"Yeah. And that very good. Cause its better when he's here than not here. It makes me happy." She agreed. "Except when he makes mama angry when he does things he's not supposed to. Like play catch. Or sit on the floor." She confessed, looking only to Addison.

"Zola! You know they can hear you, right?" She whispered into the girl's ear before turning her head round to look at the girl's parents.

Her eyes widened as she looked over to them. "It true through mama."

"I know."

"Do you like playing catch Addie?"

"Yeah. In fact, I play it with my own son, Henry, sometimes."

"Is Henry the same me, or older?" Bailey asked.

"You're actually about the same age."

"Oh. He like dinosaurs and space ships? I like dinosaurs and space ships. And catch, but you knows that. He like the things too?" He interrogated, excited at the idea of having a friend with similar interests. Zola was often interested in similar topics, when she wasn't too busy playing with her own independent hobbies, but she was his sister. Sisters didn't – generally – count as real friends.

"He does like space ships, actually."

His elation only grew as he asked, "He here?"

"No, he's in a place called LA." She said with a shake of her head, suddenly missing her son an awful lot more.

"Oh." He sounded a little disappointed, but shook it off quickly enough. "See my dinosaurs?"

"I would love to see your dinosaurs, Bailey." She agreed with a smile. She really could see Derek in the pair. His smile. His convincing, begging eyes. His humour. His intelligence. Just...him.

"And my animals?" She requested.

Her grin grew. "And your animals Zola."