Chapter Three: What Can I say?

"Derek—aren't you going to say something?" The question was both irritated and desperate—voicing the pain behind it and the fact that at the very least, she deserved an answer. Deserved something for always coming in second–- and a few words thrown at her, an explanation for the humiliation she felt, yet again, was the prize.

They stood in the almost non-existent kitchen area of the trailer, her back against the cupboard door. She crossed her arms over her breasts and waited for him to speak. He stood in front of her, hands jammed into the pockets of his tuxedo pants, looking at the floor, as if he could find the answer within the linoleum grooves.

Subconsciously she bit the inside of her cheek as she waited, then glanced down at herself and almost laughed. She was the best at what she did; Her professional career couldn't have been better. She was attractive, more than average, she was articulate, passionate and she was standing in front of her husband waiting for him to explain his latest dalliance with his intern.

"What can I say?" He said mildly, still looking at the floor.

If that weren't enough, and it didn't seem to be, the entire staff of the hospital seemed to know that Derek and Meredith were off copulating even before she or the vet Meredith had chosen as her date, did. What she was tired of was the looks. The way people looked at her; like they were sorry for her. Poor Addison, Derek loves Meredith, silly woman. They all looked at her like she was the mistress, instead of his wife.

She regarded him carefully, almost felt sorry for him. He was torn up inside, unhappy. He didn't love her the way he so obviously loved Meredith Grey. She sighed—it always came back full circle to the intern who had stolen her husbands heart and not given it back. Too tired to fault either one of them, for what's done had been done, she reached up and wiped a tear from her eye. "Derek, I deserve an explanation for tonight." She said softly.

He looked up at the ceiling and blew out the air from between his lips then flicked his stony gaze toward her. "It just happened. It wasn't planned." He shook his head and began to loosen his tie. "That's all you're going to get, Addy."

He was dismissing the subject. She felt like she had been slapped in the face. She snorted, contempt building in the pit of her stomach.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she fought them back. She would not cry. Not now. "That's all I'm going to get?" She asked, her voice beginning to climb. "That's all?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Damn you, Derek! Damn you!" She pounded her fist against her shapely thigh. "I deserve more than some shitty excuse—I'm your wife!"

He raised an eyebrow at her—unaffected. The only thing he cared to think about at that moment was the fact that he could still smell Meredith on him, could taste her. He closed his eyes briefly and felt his stomach churn at the thought that she had left without him. Left with her vet.

That knowledge, along with the fact that he didn't want to be with Addison having a conversation that just kept going round and round had put him in a dangerous mood. There was no stopping it; it was like a runaway train. It had no destination and those who were on the train had no where to go, nothing to do but wait. It was long, drawn out and painful. He didn't want to deal with it anymore.

"I don't have anything else to say to you." He replied as he slid the tie from his neck and tossed it aside. "If I did, you would have heard it by now."

"You can be such a prick."

He nodded. "Yes. I can. And I'm sorry."

"Sorry you slept with her and humiliated me in front of our colleagues?" She was starting to get wound up now. Frustrated with his indifference, with the casualness that he was treating the situation, as if what she thought didn't matter. She had a fair idea that her theory was exactly correct.

"I'm sorry that you were humiliated. I wasn't trying to hurt you." He said, his voice soft, yet brittle, his professional voice, she realized. The one you use with strangers, with people you have to give bad news to. "I told you before that just because I stayed with you didn't mean that I was over her. I fell in love with her, Addy. You can't erase that."

"So I've heard."

He ignored the comment and reached around her to grab a beer out of the fridge. On second thought, he grabbed two and sat down at the table. He pulled back the tab and took a long, hard drink.

"I'm tired." He announced. "I'm not talking about this anymore." He took another swig of his beer. "You can take it or leave it."

She stared at him as if he were a stranger, and indeed, for the past year he had been. She had tried to make it work but what was she hanging on for? It was beginning to get her down, down so low that it was hard to get out of bed in the morning. It was a constant humiliation, a dredging pain that never went away and she was tired, too tired to keep Derek in a cage any longer. He was like a beautiful bird who had been captured and never allowed out of his confounds. While beautiful, because his freedom was taken away, he was miserable. She could hold on to him, look at him, study him, but he was unhappy to a point that he was heartbroken with every breath he took. He really wasn't hers anymore and if the truth be told, hadn't been for some time now.

"What do you want, Derek?"

His eyes clashed with hers as she stood up and moved by her, tossing over his shoulder, "You can figure that out I'm sure."

She felt her temper burst at his foul mood, at his indifference. "Just you wait a minute!" She stormed after him into the bedroom and found him taking off his shirt. "Don't you dismiss me, Derek Shepard! " She pointed at her chest. "I'm still your wife, if in name only, and I have some things to say to you and you're gonna listen!" She yelled.

He stared as he unbuttoned the crisp white shirt and pulled it off and tossed it on the floor. For a moment it fazed her, the fact that he wouldn't stop what he was doing for one second to pay attention to her. His hand moved to his zipper. "You were saying?"

She blinked. "I'm sorry, but could you give me a second of your undivided attention?" She snapped.

"I'm taking off my pants. The last time I checked it was still legal to do both at the same time." He snapped right back, as he slid the black slacks off and deposited them to the floor as well. He was left in his blue boxers.

When her eyes bulged and her breathing sped up, he should have known what was coming. He narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"You are such a pig!" She spat between clenched teeth, as she stared at his crotch.

"What is your problem now?" He looked down and groaned when he saw the tiny pair of black thong panties that had somehow landed in the waistband of his boxers and hung on for dear life. How he could not have noticed was beyond him. Meredith's panties. The panties that he had ripped off and tossed aside, and hadn't noticed when they had fell into his own boxers. Although he did zip up pretty quick, but he still should have noticed.

She didn't look at him. Just puckered her lips and shook her head. "I should never have come back here." She mumbled. "I was so stupid. I should have stayed in New York. I should have stayed with—" She didn't continue, but saw a thread of sanity snap before her eyes as his turned bleak, dark. They were finally going to get to it after an entire year of dancing around the subject. It made her angrier than hell that the only thing that could dredge any kind of emotion out of him was Meredith or Mark Sloan.

"Ya. That's right." For some reason, finding the panties made him angry and sad at the same time, more angry than discussing Addison's affair with his best friend–made him want to march out the door and drive to Meredith's house and demand that she give him an explanation for leaving with her vet. And most of all, it reminded him that he no longer loved the woman in front of him.

He almost choked on the overwhelming emotion that he had suppressed for so long. "You should have stayed in New York—with Mark—remember him?" He yelled at her as he grabbed the panties out of the waistband of his boxers and tossed them aside. If she wanted a fight then he'd give her one. "You should have stayed with Mark because then I would still be with Meredith and I'd be happy."

She reached out and slapped his face. Hard. The sound seemed to reverberate off the walls of the tiny bedroom. "Bastard." Her voice was cold, even though she had tears coursing down her cheeks.

He didn't deny it. "I am." He nodded his head up and down. "And I'm a miserable bastard because you keep trying to resurrect something that died a long time ago." He yelled. He picked up his beer and downed the last drop and threw it on the floor. He walked past her and out into the kitchen again and grabbed his second beer. No sense in fighting while sober, he thought miserably.

She followed him out into the kitchen, hot on his heels. "Don't you walk away from me–you think that you're the only one who hurts? You think that I don't feel the way you look at me? Do you think it's easy for me to go to work every day knowing that everyone is rooting for you and your mistress behind my back?" She shrilled.

"She wasn't my mistress—she was my lover and my best friend." He roared, pointing at Addison. "Don't talk about her like that."

She threw back her head and laughed sarcastically and imitated him. "Of course, so sorry for insulting your girlfriend. I'm only your wife."

"Were."

She stopped and stared. "Were?"

"That's right."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry–what does that mean, exactly?"

He drank down the last of can number two and got up to get another. She grabbed onto his arm, which he shook away, giving her a dangerous look.

"Don't touch me."

"Derek—" she struggled to find the words. "What are you saying?"

"You were my wife. You're not anymore." he said, with a surprising amount of calm that he didn't really feel. "I don't love you, Addison. I'm sorry."

"You're just saying that." She began. "You'll feel better in the morning." She didn't know why she was saying it, she should have packed her bags and left him, but she couldn't do it.

"No." He said slowly, this time looking her dead in the eye, giving her his full attention. "I won't. I love Meredith. I'm sorry." He said, his voice gritty with emotion.

Well, it was clear that the only thing Addison Shepard had to do to get her husband's full attention was to talk about his mistress. How sad, how unbelievably sad for her, for him. Sometimes love betrays us, laughs behind our backs, taunts us from the sidelines. On that evening, Addison discovered that she wasn't so sure that she wanted to be married anymore. She had nothing left to give, no longer had the strength or the heart to live with a man who loved someone else.

But just for tonight, she would sleep on it.