"Somewhere, a Clock is Ticking"
by Bleu
:Ways and Means:
He looked like a French film hero.
Tall, lean, tousled black hair, perfectly tailored black and white tuxedo undone at the collar, standing with slightly slouched shoulders and hands fisted in his side pockets as he stared out the glass of the rain-bathed hospital windows.
The only thing missing was the contemplative, melancholy tickling of a solo piano.
And subtitles.
"Derek?"
No motion.
Addison, who had been standing stationary two paces behind him, took a half step forward.
"Derek?" she repeated.
Finally, like the classic Indie film hero, he slowly turned to her with a beautifully tortured expression on his perfectly formed face.
She said nothing, mirroring his silence. She watched him stare through her.
He was pretending to look at her. Pretending. That's all Derek ever did anymore. He probably thought he was the consummate actor, when in fact, she had known all along it was a charade.
How long she had known and how long she had been able to admit it to herself were very different times, but the fact remained, she knew.
"Why?" she said aloud accidentally. His face drained of color and his lips parted in amazement.
"Why…what?" he asked in obvious distress.
"Why…" at the last moment, she faltered. "…don't you take me home?"
…
Of course he didn't say anything on the way back to the trailer.
He stewed. Stewed as he guided the purring Mercedes along the smooth asphalt of the city, and continued stewing even when the terrain roughened, when it was less like driving a luxury sedan and more like commandeering a ship in a storm. The windshield was awash in rainwater, the wipers rendered ineffectual.
Addison reclined her seat slightly, wrapped her jacket around herself protectively, and subtly laid a maternal hand over the exact position she knew her baby to be laying in.
Granted, the baby was a little more than an inch long as this point, but in the weeks she had kept the pregnancy a secret, the child became her only ally, the only one privy to the entire truth about Addison's life. It had been she and that baby against everyone else.
Funny, she thought. Because of her discretion thus far, she never really thought about it as Derek's baby…until just that moment. Remaining immobile, she shifted her eyes to his profile. A good profile. Beautiful. Saved from pretentiousness by his crooked, irresistible smile, and his eyes. Those eyes.
She hoped her baby—their baby—would have his eyes. And, as imperfect as it was, his soul. He had such a good soul, he really did. He was hard on himself—so was everyone else. He'd made mistakes—a lot of them. But Addison knew the goodness of his soul, remembered it, and she hoped desperately he would one day remember when she had possessed that goodness in her soul, too.
Tears, which she damned to the seventh ring of Hell, collected in the corner of her eyes, but didn't fall. She took a deep breath, and in that moment, promised she would not cry again tonight. She couldn't.
Finally, the trailer came into view. She'd never been so happy to see that shack as she was then. It had to be now, and it would be quick. She wouldn't spare melodrama, games, or anything. Not even tears.
Derek guided the car to a crackling, bumpy stop behind her car, and had just silenced the hum of the engine when she said it.
"I want a divorce."
Keeping his hands on the now dormant ignition and face in profile to her for several beats, he nodded slowly, comprehending.
"Okay."
A long moment passed. Only the slosh of heavy rain was audible. No games.
"I'm pregnant."
She might as well have slapped him across the face.
"What?" he choked, his voice a mangled blend of every emotion at once. He turned his entire upper body in a sudden, jerky movement to look at her.
"Addison…" his voice became stern, and his jaw tightened. "Is this a joke?"
At that moment, just in that moment, she hated him.
"No, Derek, no!" she cried, though her eyes were drier than parchment. "Do you think I would joke or trick you with something like this? Do you-do you really think I'm that stupid?"
"How did it happen, then!" he demanded, his hands raised in confusion.
"I don't know, Doctor, where do babies come from?"
"Sarcasm. Excellent." He dipped his head and rubbed his temples with his middle finger and thumb. Addison stared miserably at the gearshift.
She let approximately thirty seconds of infuriating silence pass before she said, "To Hell with this…" threw the car door open, and stomped into the torrential downpour.
Fumbling in her coat pockets for her keys, she didn't hear him get out of the car.
She was reacting instinctively when he put his hands on her shoulders and actually backhanded him with her left hand.
"Jesus Christ, Addison!" he shouted over the din of the rain, holding the side of his cheek that was slashed with blood and rain. She wriggled free and had her hand on the driver's door of her car when he grabbed her arm and yanked her back around, pulling her up against him.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, the blood from his gash almost cartoon-like when it mixed with the rain and ran freely down onto his collar.
"What am I doing? What are you doing!" she screamed in his face, trying desperately to free herself from his hold.
"Come inside, now, Addison!" he didn't give her a choice.
With enough force to physically move her but not enough to hurt her, he managed to half push half carry her into the trailer amidst her rebukes.
When she was in, he slammed the door behind him, and walked slowly to her as she stood with her back against the counter.
He moved slowly towards her, and she slapped him again.
"Eow…" he made a gurgle of odd noises indicating pain as he wiggled his jaw to make sure it was still aligned, his eyes wide with shock. "Is it out of your system yet?" he asked, almost humorously.
"How dare you ask what I think I'm doing?" she nearly shrieked. "What the hell are you doing Derek? Oh, that's right—Meredith Grey!"
After the words were out of her mouth, she felt empty. It was out. The truth had been expelled. In that last sentence, she had drug out every nasty, unspoken secret they had both been attempting to bury in marriage counseling and sugarcoat with old memories the past few months.
"I did." He said solemnly.
Suddenly devoid of all will power to scream, yell, or much else, Addison expelled a heavy sigh.
"I know."
His eyes softened sorrowfully.
"How?"
"I just did." She crossed her arms protectively around herself. "Even if I didn't know you actually had sex tonight, you've been emotionally with Meredith Grey for months now. Assuming you ever actually stopped, which I'm beginning to doubt."
Another silence ensued, this time tension free. It was just miserable.
"You should…you should put something dry on." He said softly, reaching to ease the coat from her shoulders. She allowed him the liberty, more for herself than him. He pulled the soaking garment from her, exposing her beautiful gown. The gown she had bought in secret two days ago, and hid in her locker at work, because it was his favorite color on her, and dipped low on her back, the way he liked her dresses to, the way her wedding dress had.
With gentle movements, Addison went into the bedroom, collected a pair of grey sweatpants and an oversized tee shirt, and in a gesture of modesty, changed in the bathroom.
When she emerged minutes later, Derek was sitting on the end of the bed holding her gown.
"This is a beautiful dress." He told her sadly.
She only stared.
"Thanks. Too bad it got ruined." She didn't gesture to the stain on the edge he already saw, a remembrance of her episode with Callie.
"Come on, drink this. It will help with the nausea…" he trailed off as he handed her a concoction, and looked down, presumably at her abdomen. She moved her hands to lace protectively in front of it. He noticed the gesture of protection, and possession, and moved his eyes back to her, hurt.
"How far along?"
"Eight weeks, four days."
"Have you had…any exams?"
"I performed the initial test and ultra—what?" she asked, when he smiled slightly.
"You're the only woman I know who would have performed her own ultrasound."
"What choice did I have? Should I have called Bailey in? Or maybe Meredith?" She replied with childish pettiness when she drank the drink he offered.
He watched her, tragically handsome and tortured in his rumpled tuxedo in the drab surroundings of the trailer. He had swabbed and cleaned the two-inch gash she had created with her wedding ring when she slapped him, but he hadn't covered it, so the angry red slash made a stark contrast against his skin.
"I…I can't explain that, Addison. I won't…degrade either of us and try." He moved to the side. "Sit down."
She tapped the side of the glass with two fingers, remaining standing.
"Fine." He stood, and came towards her. She backed up instinctively, and he stopped.
"What is this, Addison?" he held his hands out, palms up, confusion and pain and question flickering over his features.
"I…I can't." she said softly.
"Can't what? Stand within five feet of me?"
"Yes. Or five yards. Or five miles. I have to be away from you." She took a final gulp of the drink and set the glass down on the coffee table with a decided thunk.
"You're not serious."
"I am." As she made an attempt to move past him, he made a move to block her. She froze inches from the arm he put in front her, and closed her eyes.
"Please, Derek, don't make this more painful than it has to be. I'm tired."
"I won't let you go, Addison." He told her softly, though it was firm. "I won't."
"Yes, you will. Because you don't love me like you did. You love Meredith. Don't even bother…just don't even bother denying it. It would be ridiculous, and insulting."
He slowly lowered his arm.
She moved by him, maneuvered around the bed, and began rooting in the wardrobe.
"Where…what are you doing now? You can't leave tonight!" he insisted, coming beside her and pulling the suitcase from her hands.
"I can't stay with you Derek, are you not hearing me?" she cried, pleading to him, dangerously close to expelling the tears she thought were dried up. He gently took her into his arms, his eyes determined. Before she could—or would—fight it, he was kissing her.
It was gentle at first, more tentative, but when she began to respond involuntarily by fitting her body against his, it deepened and he sunk his hand into her hair and locked her mouth with his. A warm, liquid feeling rose from her stomach, stinging her eyes, and a tear gushed out in response.
It landed on her lip, and was soon devoured in their kiss. Tasting somehow the sorrow, Derek flinched, but it was Addison who pulled away.
"No." she whimpered.
"Why?" he asked
hoarsely, letting his forehead rest against hers.
"Because…it
would never end. This cycle. You can pretend all you want that you
aren't in love with Meredith, but not for very long. You might
think now that we'll have a baby you could be in love with me
again, but the truth is you won't ever love me like you used to."
This time, it was his
eyes that filled with tears.
"But Addie, I can't just let you
leave. What kind of man would I be? We can work this through."
Tears finally spilled from his eyes, and he pulled her into an
embrace. She worked her arms around him and rubbed his back.
"Derek, you're a good man. You're a decent man. You tried—God, you've tried for all of these months so hard. A lot of other men would have thrown the signed divorce papers in my face as soon as I showed up." She hugged him tighter when he shuddered a sob into her hair. "But it just won't work. We don't work anymore, not as husband and wife. You deserve to be able to be in love, and I deserve to be loved."
A long while passed, and the rain soon reduced to a soft whir on the trailer roof. They stood in a tight, clinging embrace all the while, crying into each other's shoulders.
Finally, Addison pulled away, and for the first time, Derek allowed her to.
"Please just stay tonight." He pleaded, still holding her hands.
"Okay."
She crawled into bed, and he soon joined her, lacing his fingers with hers.
"I do love you, Addie." He whispered in the dark.
"I love you, too, Derek."
They fell asleep like that, lying on their backs, eyes to the heavens, hands linked.
…
"I don't see her."
"She's right there."
"Where? No way, that's the uterus wall!"
"No it's NOT! My uterus doesn't have a head, Derek!"
"Well I certainly hope my daughter's head isn't that wide!"
"You and me both!"
"—What is going on in here?" Miranda Bailey demanded, finally managed to open the door to the exam room after hearing the bickering and laughter. She froze, upon seeing Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Montgomery staring intently at the sonogram machine, both of their faces twisted in concentration.
"Miranda, come over and show Derek, the world renowned brain surgeon, that this," she jabbed her finger at a vague shape on the screen, "is not my uterus wall and is in fact the baby!"
Miranda shuffled over to the screen. "Oh brother. I should know better than getting involved with your domestic disputes."
She studied the screen for a long moment, and then chuckled.
"Uh, actually, Addison, that's just a shadow. You are looking at your uterus wall."
Derek's eyes widened in victory.
"Ha!"
Addison pouted, and furrowed her brows at the screen.
"When then where did she go?" she asked, moving the sensor to the left of her swollen stomach. Miranda laughed.
"Here, allow me. I don't think she went far." She took the sensor from Addison, guided it slightly higher, and suddenly on the screen, a very clear outline of a five-month old fetus wriggled and pulsated.
"There she is!" Addison exclaimed, her eyes softening.
"Yeah, that's her." Derek agreed, unconsciously taking Addison's free hand in a tight grasp.
"She's very mobile for a girl." Miranda observed. "I remember when I was pregnant with Will, felt like he was doing the samba on my stomach every twenty minutes! I was always under the impression girls were a bit more tame."
"Consider her parentage." Derek quipped, earning a loving smack from Addison.
"Good point," Miranda had to laugh. "Did you two pick a name yet?"
"Bella Grace." They answered simultaneously, and then laughed.
"That's beautiful. Bella Grace Shepherd." Miranda tried it out. "Yeah, I like it."
"Well, I always knew if I had a girl, I wouldn't plague her with a stiff, formal name like mine." Addison reasoned.
"It's not stiff or formal!" Derek argued. "I always thought it was sexy."
"Oh I got used to it, but I always thought it would have been nice to have a sweet girly name." Addison touched the screen lightly, outlining the shape of the baby.
"Well, I've got rounds," Miranda handed the sensor over to Addison. "I'll talk to you later, and I'll see you in surgery tonight, Shepherd."
After the door shut behind her, Derek watched Addison watch the screen.
"You're beautiful." He said softly, aching in his chest, an odd sensation that he had been experiencing lately. She turned, and slowly smiled.
"So are you."
He laughed hard.
"Addison…"
"What?"
He opened his mouth, and then closed it. She raised a quizzical brow at him.
He half-smiled, and then replied, "Nothing. Let's print a good shot out for the grandparents."
Fin.
A/N: So I finished this quick today so that I would have it up before the Season Premiere because honestly, Shonda is certainly going to upstage me. Also, it's pretty intense in some parts (I blame iTunes for randomly playing "Moonlight Sonata" while I was writing) so…yeah. Hope everyone enjoyed it! Much love, and enjoy tonight! -Bleu
