Baby Addek. Derek asks Addison about her family. . . .

F is for Family

"What is your family like?"

Addison's hand pauses over the half-opened lid of her night cream and her eyes move to look at Derek's reflected in the mirror on the nightstand.

"What prompted this question?" she watches as he leaves the bathroom, patting himself dry with a towel.

She doesn't know why he's asking about her family all of a sudden, where this is coming from. He has never minded the fact that he hasn't yet been formally introduced to the vultures that is her family, or so she thought he didn't.

"They don't need to meet you, Derek. I don't need their approval. I love you."

"Why do you assume they won't love me? Parents love me."

"I'm sure they do. But it's not you, it's them."

"I mean we've been dating for almost two years now, you've met my family. Almost all of them. Aunt Jocasta came all the way from North Carolina to meet you, remember?" he folds the towel and places it neatly aside, "And we're living together and I know nothing about your family."

Addison smiles and opens the jar. Aunt Jocasta had indeed drove up to Maine for Thanksgiving last year just to see her.

"But isn't that what everyone would say? To — you know?"

"No, no, no. You don't understand. My Aunt Jocasta don't kiss ass."

No one has ever made her feel so loved, special like she did. It felt as though she was constantly being hugged from within, like she would never be alone in this world ever again, like she is family and that she's a part of one. Because that's what you do for families. You go all and beyond for one another, that was what she had learnt. Also, there was something about Aunt Jocasta that's just so magnetising; she's charming but sly; a little bit manipulative (the appropriate amount) and she's not afraid to speak her mind.

(She needs to be taking notes.)

Why isn't her family normal?

So, they might be going down to North Carolina to see her later this winter.

"My family aren't nice people," she dips her fingers in the cream and starts spreading it on her face, "They're pompous, demanding, selfish, condescending WAPS masking their functional alcoholism with money and charity galas."

Derek frowns.

"My family aren't nice people, too," he corrects her at once and Addison feels a sudden warmth blooming in the pit of her stomach. But she doesn't laugh.

It's so cute he thinks that of his family.

"Sure. They may have their flaws. Whose families doesn't? But they are saints in comparison to mine."

She'd swap hers for his any day. But then again, she isn't selfish to want to leave Derek with her mom or dad; he'd never come out of there alive.

"Well, the more reason for me to get to know your past."

"You know my past," she responds, her hands now applying cream on her neck in long motions.

"But I know hardly anything about your family," he persists, stepping closer to her on the bed, "I know you have a cousin who lives with her family in … Boston?"

"Yup," she finishes her skin routine, massaging the surplus of cream into her palms, and removes the hair tie that's holding her hair up and away from her face. It falls in a cascade of locks over her silk robe, "White picket fence and all. She just gave birth to another boy last month."

"Different lifestyle choices," Derek comments, hearing the slight disdain in her voice.

"To say the least," she smiles and picks up a brush, holding it out. "Three boys, all less than two years apart. Her hair is going to go gray before she even turns forty."

God, she's so happy.

Derek moves swiftly, taking the brush from her hand and sitting next to her.

"What about your parents?" he asks while his fingers slowly separate the strands on her hair.

"It's a rather boring story, really," she closes her eyes as he begins to brush her hair with deliberate care, "To everyone, we were the picture-perfect family. My dad, the doctor. My mom had her little projects to keep her busy. Two kid. A boy and a girl. A dog. A big house, a pool and all. You know, all-American. Behind closed doors, we were cold and distant. My dad was screwing the help, the nannies, my piano and French teachers. You know, that kind of story."

The brush pauses briefly then resumes the languid strokes.

"You weren't close with any of your parents, I'm guessing?"

"My father was always supportive of me in a way, even if he was never really a doting person. My mother —" she takes a deep breath, "Well, we've never seen eye to eye."

Derek says nothing, sensing the tension now slowly settling in her arms. He continues to brush her hair and she sighs quietly, relaxing under his attention, head now heavy on her shoulders. She does not know how much time has passed when he finally sets the brush aside and caps the finished task with a kiss on her temple.

Opening her eyes, she watches him move to settle himself in their bed, leaving the cover lifted, a gentle invitation for her to join him. She peels of her robe and drapes it across the back of a chair, then slips under the sheets, soft cotton skimming across her skin. But she does not rest her head on the pillow, her mind suddenly delving into the memories she had buried a long time ago.

"What it is?" Derek asks immediately, seeing her resting on her forearm, her gaze unexpectedly pensive.

"It's —," she hesitates, lost in her thoughts, "Umm, it's nothing."

Derek's stare does not falter as he observes her more keenly now.

"It's not nothing, Addie," he states firmly, and she knows he will not be swayed.

"I was just thinking about Bizzy — my mom, I told you before that we were not encouraged to call her that," she admits, still reluctantly, "Bizzy always knew how to make it clear that I was not enough and will never be."

The admission burns bitterly on her tongue and she averts her gaze; dwelling on the past was never an indulgence of hers.

"Would you like to tell me about it?" Derek lifts himself up into a sitting position, eagerness to ease her melancholia pouring from his eyes.

"You're not my therapist, Derek," she declares as pieces of her stubbornness surfaces and self-imposed distance rise from their ashes, but they are flimsy and out of place. "I have Dr. Vega for that."

But she hasn't been seeing Dr. Vega since they started dating.

"You're not mine either. But I still talk to you about things," Derek is not dispirited by her defensive words, "You're my girlfriend and I'm your boyfriend. It's what we're here for each other."

He reaches his hand out as though to prove his point, gently cupping her face and caressing her cheek. Addison briefly closes her eyes, melting into his touch, the ghost of her reservations vanishing without a trace.

"My mother has a way with words," she starts quietly while Derek's hand still strokes her skin, relaxing and encouraging, "She would never criticise me in such a direct way, but every remark she makes is always laced with a hidden rebuke."

Her voice trails off as she remembers her mother's tone, fake saccharin hiding the taste of arsenic.

After all I have done for you, Addison, and this is how you repay me. You have bring shame to the Montgomery name.

"She made sure I knew she was the victim and I was to blame for everything. Even when it had nothing to do with me."

Even when she found out about the Captain's lengthy liaisons.

"Did it happen often?" Derek prompts.

"Yes," the confession pains her more than she expected. She has never admitted it to anyone before.

"Does you father know?"

A dry chuckle escapes her lips.

"He does, but it's not in his nature to confront anyone, least of all my mother."

She recalls her father's placid expression and countless hours spent in his office, away from home.

"What about your brother?"

"Well, you've met Archer. He's ..." shrugging, she continues, "He's Archer. He drinks like a true Montgomery. So, to an extent, he too is damaged goods, but he was always the favourite one, fulfilling all of my parents' expectations," new envy resurfaces in her mind. "Except that summer in the Hamptons when he crashed my father Porsche into a tree."

"Perhaps it was appease your mother? Not the whole crashing your father's Porsche but to follow through expectations. Everyone has a different way of dealing with abuse."

The thought has never occurred to her before; she was too busy fighting her own battles.

"I don't imagine your brother, or anyone else for that matter, being as strong and true to themselves as you," he continues, his fingers gently grazing her neck, and both the touch, and his words warm her significantly.

"When she found out I was planning to go to medical school, she didn't talk to me for two weeks, claiming I have ruined her life," her voice breaks, catching in her throat, and she feels Derek's hand squeezing her hand, only now noticing it is shaking. "She didn't have a problem with Archer going to medical school."

"I think ... I think it was because Bizzy was jealous of me," she says in a whisper. A bell rings loud and clear in her head as she finally figured it out.

Bizzy had never wanted her to amount to anything because she was afraid she would be more successful than her.

What kind of mother would feel such a way towards their daughter?

A narcissistic one.

"I'm so sorry," he says softly, holding her hand steadily until the tremble subsides.

Addison feels unexpectedly calm and somehow lighter, as if a heaviness she did not know she was carrying with her has been lifted.

"It's not your fault," she entwines her fingers with his, stroking his hand in turn.

"It's not your fault either," Derek lies down again and pulls her with him.

It feels like it.

She presses her head in the favoured spot on his chest, easing into the familiar embrace.

"I'm not going to say that you're more than enough because I'm certain you already know that," he whispers, placing kisses along her hairline.

Addison lifts her head, pretended reproach in her narrowed gaze.

"When will you grow tired of complimenting me?" she attempts to sound stern, but her smile gives her away.

"When you stop deserving them, which is never," he proclaims with all seriousness.

Despite her best efforts, she feels another blush advancing under her skin and she rests her head anew, trying to conceal it.

"Thank you," she utters, barely audible against his skin and hums in delight as Derek's arms enfold her completely.

This is the only home she has ever needed.

Thank you all for reading this semi-fluff semi-sad fic. I hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you think!

If you would like more Addek Angst, please read Unhinged.

Review!!