Confessions

We laughed the other day. Derek and I, we shared a genuine laugh. At least, I hope, he was laughing with me and not at me.

In those eyes, I saw the man, the man from 11 years ago, before we lost ourselves in the dazzling lights of New York.

He apparently thinks I'm from Hell now.

New York may have a light pollution problem, but I'd say the temperature was only tropical compared to any shades of Hell.

He still has a thing for Meredith, I know.

I, Addison Shepherd, made many stupid mistakes; but assuming he'd crawl back into my arms? We'd be fine?

Never.

I have long stopped using the rights of being his wife, assuming he'd always be there, perhaps even before Mark came along.

When was it that we started to drift?

It must be the lights; I shall continue my rail on the lights of New York.

Maybe that's why Derek chose the trailer, the land, and the place that gave me the poison oak: he wanted the anti-Addison.

Actually, Derek may have wanted more than the anti-Addison. He probably wanted no Addison at all.

But then again, who am I to complain?

He said, "As is your right" to my hate of the trailer, the wilderness and the whole acrimonious web of a love life that we have; that he has, that I had.

What right?

The rings? The vows? The 11 years of our marriage?

We are at peace, Derek and I; I personally think it's the calm before a storm.

Yes, he stayed with me, the Addison Forbes Montgomery Shepherd.

Of course, he no longer remembers the Addison Forbes Montgomery, he only knows the Shepherd.

I think we got lost, somewhere on the path that we were supposed to have traversed through together, when the vows bounded us to one last name.

I feel like he's finding the way home again, slowly, but surely.

We shared "Juju" yesterday.

I called him babe when we shared the Juju. He didn't object.

I had to summon a lot of courage to start using pet names again, but the incident that it rolled off my tongue, that was natural.

When I first extended my evil wrath to Seattle, and landed on my dingy little broom with the darkest of New York fashions, I called Derek honey.

Derek went unleashed all hostility at that "honey".

But it was also during that day, that moment in the NICU, when Derek read into my defeated glance, that I realized. This was still Derek.

He may have turned into a wood-chopping, flannel wearing fisherman, he still is my Derek.

The Derek that could see me for who I am, beyond the ostentatious lights that belonged to a successful neonatal surgeon in New York.

I kissed him that day, left him to ponder over the complexities of our existence.

And that ends me up where I started.

Nowhere.

Am I out of my mind?

I don't know.

I do know that Mark, still immersed in the din of New York City, is waiting for me, to go back.

But this is Derek.

Not Mark.

I want Derek.

Not Mark.

They may laugh at the same jokes, drink the same over-priced scotch, heck, even have the same taste in women.

Mark will never be Derek.

Ever.

So.

This is why I'm here.

Because there will never be another Derek Shepherd.

Without him, how can I still be who I am?

My glorious name, Addison Forbes Montgomery Shepherd, just won't be complete with out Shepherd.

I don't even answer to Dr. Montgomery anymore.

Okay, it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the trailer, and the dog.

I hate the trailer.

Hate. Hate.

I like the dog though, even if he is from Meredith, to Derek, as a symbol of their "affection".

Doc likes me; he actually spends time with me.

I'm rambling.

I should stop rambling.

Oh.

Derek is home.

Finally.