Note: This is a desperate one-shot attempt to overcome my writer's block.
It was Derek's turn to collect his things in the Brownstone. The moment he entered, he knew he had to leave as soon as possible, as the memories of that fateful night started to haunt him again.
He gripped the empty hand-carry tightly, taking two steps at a time on the stairs, ready to get things done.
He stopped in his tracks when he noticed something in passing, something oddly wrong yet familiar around the house—
Their photos were still up, as if Addison hadn't just packed her things. The photos left were mostly the two of them, and he felt as if he was literally punched by a decade-worth of relationship now fading in front of him.
He was stuck, attempting to pacify the overwhelming need to hold on to these memories, to step back and try to redo it all over again.
It was a thousand times harder, yet he forced himself to continue up stairs.
Meredith was waiting by the hotel, and he should come back to her. After all, he was adamant for her not to go and help him. A part of him cannot accept the idea that he didn't want any trace of his and Meredith's relationship anywhere near the Brownstone, as this place was his and Addie's.
He told Meredith he wouldn't take an hour.
It took him more than an hour.
There were still some left, but the longer he spent inside the walls of the Brownstone, the closer he got to a full breakdown.
Signing off their marriage in a different state was like a moment in a dream, and now he's faced with the reality of their haste—his haste to end everything. He kept closing his eyes minute by minute, trying to force Meredith and their first 2 months in his mind, trying to fight off the overwhelming memories with Addison.
Trying to match months-long relationship over a decade-long one.
All the ever-changing smiles and laughter, all of their shared triumphs, all of their low points...
He looked around, regrettably unsatisfied with how empty their once bedroom looks.
Before he could leave, his eyes caught something by the bottom of their cabinet, a glistening ribbon peeking out from the one drawer Addison claimed to herself, the one he shouldn't touch if he wanted to keep his hand.
He thought of how Addison told him she's done with the Brownstone, that after he packs up his things it would be up for sale.
So he knew she wouldn't come back for it.
He pulled out the drawer, revealing a neat brown box with the ribbons unlatched. He picked it up and sat on the bed, opening the box.
Inside was filled with different trinkets and notebooks, all seemingly unused.
Happy 30th, Dr. Shepherd!
Merry Christmas, honey.
Here's 10 years' worth of memories…
Five years of marriage and counting…
It was seemingly filled with Addison's "gifts" to him, on every occasion, over the years. Yet, he could clearly remember receiving different ones, designer store-bought. All of what was in the box, he had never seen before, and they were all completely unusual gifts compared to the ones Addison would normally give him.
What he was currently looking at were personalized necklaces, photo albums, handwritten letters, filled out notepads… and a gift-wrapped one dated 06-16-02, picking his curiosity.
Happy Father's Day, Dad!
Inside was a positive pregnancy test, in a sealable plastic.
He felt the world crumbling before him once, when his father was shot.
And now he felt it again, as he stared at the two lines, feeling lost over something he did not know he almost had.
Five. Years. Passed. And he had no clue.
He felt his phone vibrate, snapping him out of his trance. He answered the call, despite not being able to take his eyes off the white stick, standing out from his many unreceived gifts from his ex-wife.
Hey, Derek. Thank god you answered! Are you heading to the Brownstone? Please tell me you haven't packed yet… I'm on my way, I forgot… something. I know you don't want to see me there—
"Addison." He cut her rambling off, fully understanding what got her so rattled, out of breath… the very reason was sitting right on his lap. "When you get here, we need to talk."