Author's Note: This fic is my idea on the phone call between Derek and Addison when Amelia goes to rehab in Private Practice 5x08. Because Grey's ignores all of Amelia's issues in season 8 and we deserved another crossover. All characters do not belong to me.


Contrary to popular belief, it's not Addison who calls him about Amelia, it's Sam.

He, Meredith, and Zola have just finished dinner and they are about to divide the daily chores of bathing Zola and doing the dishes when his phone vibrates urgently from its place on the counter.

He grabs it on his way to the kitchen, and checks his caller ID confused, because none of their friends usually call during dinner and it's his personal cell phone, not his hospital pager or blackberry.

"It's Sam," he tells Meredith, and the confusion must be evident on his face because Meredith gestures for him to answer.

"Hey Sam," he answers tentatively.

"Dude," Sam starts, and his tone is urgent, something fearful in it that Derek doesn't like, "You gotta call Addison."

He starts up out of the kitchen and paces towards his office at a speed that clearly shows his concern.

"Why?" He holds up an apologetic hand to Meredith on his way out, one that promises to get to the dishes done at a later time and waves off her concern. It's one thing for Addison and him to call each other up once in a while, but never does Sam call him to tell him to check up on Addison. "What's wrong?"

"It's Amelia," Sam sighs, and he sounds dejected and tired and sad and Derek knows that tone because it's been his own one too many times. He's heard it in his own voice when Amy crashed his car, when Amy stole his prescription pad, when Amy overdosed and he had to crack her chest in the ambulance to get her heart started again.

"She's fine now," Sam adds, ready for the panic in Derek's answer this time, "She's fine, but she did a number on Addison, and I don't— I can't... I don't know enough to fix it, to fix her."

Derek sighs, hand coming up to rub over his face. It's not that he's annoyed at Addison, but he is, because she's always so hopeful when it comes to Amelia, thinking that Amelia will change, that Amelia will stop using. She's the ultimate optimist when she wants to be, blind to everything else going wrong. That's the way she was in Seattle when their marriage was falling apart. And he kept telling her, especially when they were married, that Amy's a different beast. Amy doesn't change. Amy doesn't care. Amy will take and take and take for her addiction and she'll rob you blind and you have to prepare yourself for that, because you can't suffer through all those heartbreaks she'll bring you, the ones Addison suffers through every time.

"Put her on," he sighs.

He can hear the scuffle that ensues through the phone, Sam not having the state of mind to cover the receiver.

"Addison," Sam starts, banging on what Derek assumes is her bedroom door, "Addison, open up."

Derek almost laughs through the phone. He's been in Sam's position one too many times and "Addison, open up" is a beginner's move if he's ever heard it. Addison needs new information, Addison needs to be shocked, hell Addison in this state shouldn't be left alone, ever, even if she demands it.

But maybe Sam isn't as hopeless as he seems, because his next line, "Derek's on the phone for you," seems to work like a charm.

Suddenly he can hear the door opening as if it's flying off the hinges.

"Derek?" he hears Addison's biting whisper, tone so cold he almost shivers, "You called Derek, Sam?"

"I–" Sam tries to protest.

"What on business on earth," Addison continues, and Derek thinks this even he would shrink away from her tone if he was there in person, "Do you have calling Derek about this? He is the last person you should tell anything to about Amelia. Not until we have it figured out."

"It's not for—" Sam tries again, but Addison is ready.

"What exactly did you tell him? Did you tell him about the rehab, or about Ryan, or god forbid did you tell him about the engagement present , about the—"

"Of course I didn't tell him that!" Sam shouts. He's yelling now, and yelling is a rookie move with Addison, because yelling means she's winning. And yelling at an upset Addison, a grieving Addison, is the worst kind to yell at. How doesn't Sam know that?
Sam sounds angry as he hands the phone over to Addison, "I didn't tell him anything about Amelia. I called him for you, because you've been inconsolable for days and you need to talk to someone about it, Addison. So here," there's a sound of air whooshing through the phone as he thrusts it at Addison, "Talk to him."

There's the sound of a door slam, of someone stomping down the stairs, and then there's a shaky breath into the phone.

"Hi Addison," he starts, seeming like it's the safest route.

"I don't want to talk to you about this," Addison responds, sounding disinterested, "You're the last person I should be talking to about this."

He ignores her, "I take it from that whole fight," he gestures even though she can't see it, "That Amelia's in rehab again."

Addison, it seems, still has a little bit of fight left in her, "What do you care? You never care when Amelia's in rehab."

"Addison," he sighs into the phone, "Do you wanna talk about it? Because Sam called for me to talk to you, and if we're just gonna sit here and argue—"

"It was really bad this time Derek," Addison says, and it sounds as if the tears have finally started coming, "I've never seen her like that, and then she left, and I was so sure she was going to—"

His sigh cuts her off, "It's always like that, Addison. You know it's always like that, we just haven't been around her in a while to remember what it's like."

"I watched her snort Oxy off the reception desk, Derek. I watched her beg and plead and chant around the room about 'What do we want? Drugs!'. And then I gave it to her. I gave her just one, to stop her from going out into the street and killing herself by overdosing on them, and she left—she left anyway."

She's crying earnestly now, loud heavy sobs that Derek feels resonate in his chest, because this is his baby sister, but as sad and hurt and depressed as he is, he can't say he's surprised about the situation, and that helps a bit to desensitize him to it all.

"It's not your fault Addison," he says, because he knows she thinks it is, thinks that because she gave Amelia one pill that she went off the rails, when Amelia's been off the rails for years now. "Amelia was going to run off and start using no matter what you did, because that's what she wants to do. If she doesn't want help, you can't force it, you know that."

Addison's still crying though, and Derek wishes he was there physically, to do something other than just breathe awkwardly through the phone while she tries to gather her breath.

He decides to throw her a breather. The facts are easier than the feelings. "Who got her to rehab? The cops? Was she in jail again?"

Addison sighs and it sounds like she's aged a thousand years, "She called me. She called me, and I found her, half high and sobbing and covered in vomit, in a shitty motel, and she told me she was ready, that this was rock bottom. So I cleaned her up, and I took her."

"I thought she left?" Derek asks, perplexed about the sequence of events, "Why would she call you right after she left? Was she with anyone? What happened?"

"That's not my story to tell, Derek." Addison's tone leaves no room for argument.

"She was okay, though?" Derek asks instead, "When you dropped her off?"

"She was okay," Addison confirms, "But she was so sad, Derek. Not just about the rehab, but…the whole situation, the whole thing. It was so…we've seen her through a lot Derek, but this…this was rock bottom. And I just—" her breath hitches like she can't get the air out to continue, "I just left her there."

"Hey," Derek tries to comfort her softly, "You left her in the best possible place for her. She's gonna be in rehab for a while, but she's gonna get clean. That's the best you can do for her, Addison."

"I just—" her breath is still hitching, but considerably less now and she just sounds tired, "I just thought she was better, you know? She was doing so well with Ginsberg and the case she worked on with me, the cae she worked on with you…I thought she was better."

"Addison," he starts comfortingly, "You and I both know how deceiving it can be when Amy starts using again. You couldn't have noticed earlier, you couldn't have done more. You did everything you could. You did it, Addie."

"Then why does it hurt so bad?" she asks, sounding miserable.

"Because you care, Addie." he says softly, and she's done it now, because there's a lump in his throat and his eyes are pricking with tears, and he swore to himself that the next time this happens with Amy that he wouldn't cry again, but here Addison is, flipping his world upside down once again.

He takes a deep breath, "Do I need—Should I come out there to see her?"

"She's not—" Addison gulps in air, "I don't think she's willing to see any visitors. But I'll let you know, if she starts and if she wants to see you."

"She probably won't," Derek tries to say it while sounding indifferent, but Addison knows him.

"She thinks you'll judge her," Addison tries to comfort him now, "I shouldn't even be talking to you about this, she'd be so mad if she knew."

"Technically Sam called me," he amends, "And all I really know is that she's in rehab again, so it's not like you told me anything sensitive."

"I guess," Addison shrugs.

"Addie," he tries again, his voice is uncharacteristically soft once more, "Thank you. Thank you for looking out for her." The 'when I didn't' goes left unsaid.

"Of course, Derek," she answers genuinely, "We're family."

He doesn't know if she means her and Amelia, who he knows she considers a sister, or if she means him and her, and the way they leaned on each other and planned a family of their own for more than eleven years. It pains him to think of either, of Addison picking up the pieces of his family that he left behind.

"Addie," he tries again softly, "Call next time, yeah? I don't care what Amelia says or Sam thinks, you call next time, ok?"

"Ok," she agrees, and it's so quiet he has to strain to hear it. He's not sure if she's placating his request, or if she really means it, but he hopes she does, because just because he and Addsion left their marriage behind five years ago does not mean that they don't have a novel full of history with several loose ends that are too painful to tie up alone.

"Ok," she says, stronger this time, "I'll call next time."

"Good," he says, because there's so much they haven't said on this phone call, hell, they've said practically nothing at all, but he feels like he just ran an emotional marathon. It feels, not like the closure he was expecting, but like ripping up all the stitches they've used to seal their story and rewriting, opening up all the things they haven't realized were there. It feels like rebuilding.

"Goodbye Derek," she says, tone stronger, and he knows he should be the one to ask her if she's ok again, that was the purpose of this phone call from Sam after all, but it feels so right to leave it here, so exposed and and open for the possibility of more.

"Say hi to Meredith for me," she closes out the conversation and he's jolted back to the present, to the life he has with Meredith and Zola in his study in the house that he built overlooking the water, and not in another life that he once lived with Addison, where they shared the world and first discovered the extent of Amelia's problem.

"Yeah," he responds, "Say hi to Sam for me."

He gulps, unsteady in his wants to end the conversation, "Bye Addie."

And then he hangs up the phone, and sits there in his office chair, staring at the dark bookshelf behind him, lost in thoughts of what once was and what is now. He sits there for a while, just staring, just thinking, until Meredith knocks on the already cracked door of the study and disturbs the thoughts.

"Everything ok in here?" she asks, smiling, Zola on her hip freshly bathed and in floral pajamas.

He thinks of telling her, of saying, 'Amelia hit rock bottom', or 'Amelia's in rehab', or 'It was really bad this time, she snorted oxy off the reception desk, and I think that was the best of it because Addison won't tell me the rest because it's worse and I'm scared to know what worse is and I've left my ex-wife to deal with it all because I can't be bothered to call my sister once in a while.'

But Meredith doesn't know Amelia, doesn't know the before. She's his breath of fresh air, something bright and shiny and new, and the picture of her and Zola, all sweet-smelling, freshly bathed and ready for bed, is one he's not ready to taint with more news of 'My sister is a drug addict.'

So he smiles and says, "Everything's fine. Just some LA drama."

And then he stands from his chair, takes Zola from her place on her mother's hip and pretends to fly her like an airplane, the hallway of their newly built house erupting into toddler giggles, light enough to almost erase the emotional turmoil of that phone call. Almost.


Author's Note: Something about procrastinating my finals brings me such great fanfic ideas. I have two more work in progress fics so we'll see which one inspires me more to finish it. As always reviews, kudos, favorites, make my day :)