A/N: The writer's block, she burns. I'm struggling with this story even though a lot of the back half is written (so to speak). Encouragement helps, hint, hint.


.-.-.

Some Bright Morning
6. shadows of this life

.-.-.

"Well." Big Randy looks from one of them to the other; Derek finds himself shifting a little under the other man's penetrating gaze. "I think I'm going to go take care of a few things. I'll see y'all at dinner – you know who's on tonight?"

"Hank and Morgan, I think," Savvy says, tucking some of her hair behind her ears. "We take turns with the cooking on the island," she explains to Derek. "Everyone pitches in for different meals."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone," Addison confirms. "Even us."

"But you can't cook," Derek reminds her.

"Well, neither can you. Microwaving hot dogs doesn't count."

"I'm sure I can figure it out, Addison."

"Well, as luck would have it," Savvy says, "the two of you are scheduled for breakfast tomorrow."

"Breakfast?" Addison says as Derek repeats, "the two of us?"

Savvy nods. "The two of you. Breakfast. Just be at the hearth in the morning. Beau and Lily are on for breakfast tomorrow, too. They'll help you out."

Great.

"What time?"

"You'll know," Savvy says vaguely, waving one of her hands.

Big Randy is looking back and forth between Derek and Addison. "What's that you said about hot dogs?"

"Oh, it was a Thanksgiving years ago," Savvy says. "Derek sprung on Addison that his entire huge family was coming to their place and stuck her with cooking a thirty-two pound turkey – which, let me tell you, isn't exactly fun to track down in Manhattan the day before Thanksgiving. And then Derek let everyone blame Addison when the meal didn't turn out perfectly. Including his mother, who just loved having an excuse to pick on Addie and accused her of trying to kill everyone instead of what she should have done … which was thank her profuselyfor pitching in at the last minute and then give her son the smack he deserved for letting it all go down that way."

Savvy exhales, having told the whole story in one breath, and smiles.

But Derek frowns, confused. He's never heard the infamous Hot Dog Thanksgiving described quite that way – and he's heard it plenty of times. In fact, Savvy hasn't even mentioned hot dogs yet, and the absence of the key phrase apparently hasn't escaped Big Randy's notice either.

"But how do hot dogs figure in there, honey?"

"Oh." Savvy makes a dismissive gesture. "Derek nuked some hot dogs for his family later on after he made Addison do all the work and take all the blame."

Big Randy gives Derek a very unimpressed look before he says goodbye and heads off down the path.

Derek can't help but notice that Addison looks almost pleased.

"You know, usually when that story gets told, I come out the hero," Derek says mildly.

Addison rolls her eyes at this.

"What?" He spreads his hands innocently. "Addison, you know it's true."

"Well … things are different on the island." Savvy laughs a little and links her arm through his. "Oh, Derek, you know I love you."

"Really," he says, but his tone is light, and he smiles at her.

"Truly," Savvy assures him. "You wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"No?"

"No." She shakes her head firmly. "The island is special … don't you get it? No one comes here if they don't belong here."

"How do you know if someone belongs here?"

"They come here."

"That's circular," he protests.

"So's the island." Savvy grins at him. "Now go and get ready for dinner."

Derek glances toward Addison. "I'm keeping your wife for a few more minutes," Savvy says lightly, gesturing for Derek to go ahead of them; it's phrasing she's used many times, but it sounds different here.

.-.-.

Savvy tugs her friend closer as soon as they're alone.

"Addie … what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"With you and Derek."

"Oh." Addison pauses.

"Last time I saw you, you were crying over him and he wouldn't call you back," Savvy prompts her.

"Yeah." She studies her hands.

"And now he's here and you're … what?"

"I don't know."

"Kidding around about hot dogs?"

"No. Actually, that was you and Derek. Ooh, you know what? You can have him."

Savvy laughs. "I don't know if Weiss is into threesomes."

"Didn't you tell me senior year that-"

"Anyway," Savvy interrupts quickly, "we're talking about you and Derek."

Addie doesn't say anything.

Savvy sighs. "Look, you don't have to put on a thing with me, Addie. You know that. We don't do that with each other."

"But Savvy, your-"

"-mother just died? Yeah, I know. That's not going to hurt any less just because you don't tell me the truth, you know."

Addison nods slowly. "Okay. You're right."

"So?"

"So … I didn't see him until Charlotte."

"And then…"

"And then he wouldn't sit next to me on that tiny plane until the flight attendant forced him to."

Savvy can't help laughing at this. "Oh, I can't wait until the next time my brother goes drinking with Eaves so I can hear what that was like from the other side." Then she gets more serious. "So … what does that mean? You're separated?"

"Right now … we're very much together. Red Fox has one bed, Sav."

"It does?" Savvy knits her brows while tilting her head just slightly, the expression of mild and innocent confusion she's perfected when she's trying to get something from a busy court clerk. "I could have sworn I set you up in one of the double rooms. Do you want me to try to juggle people around? It would be hard, but-"

"No, of course not, it's fine. I was just saying – but no, we're not – lawyers aren't involved. I mean, other than you and Weiss."

Savvy smiles at that. "Okay." She takes the information in. "So he hasn't – "

"Filed?" Addison shakes her head. "No."

"And you haven't either."

"No."

"Okay." Savvy nods. "Because …"

"Huh?"

"Why hasn't either one of you filed, I mean."

"I don't know."

"Is it because you…"

"He hates me, Sav."

"What about you? Do you hate him?"

"What do you mean?"

"You weren't too thrilled with him before … everything happened in New York, Addie."

"He's seeing someone," she says abruptly. She's facing the river so Savvy can't quite make out her expression. "In Seattle – he's living in Seattle, by the way, which I only found out right before we came out here, and … he's seeing someone."

"Oh. Okay. Well, it's only been a month, right, and –"

"It's over, Sav. He can't even look at me." Addie straightens up, guilt flashing across her face. "Oh, god, I can't believe I'm talking about this when you – I'm sorry, Savvy, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Savvy grabs her in a quick, impulsive hug. "I asked, remember?"

Addison nods, looking pensive when they separate.

Savvy sighs. "You know what my mother would say, if she were here?"

Addison shakes her head.

"Marriage is complicated. She loved that one."

"Is that what we have, you think? A marriage?"

"You're still married, Ad. You have a marriage until you don't."

"Yeah. I guess that's right."

Savvy studies her old friend for a few moments.

"Addie … do you remember the starfish?"

"Yeah." The word is so soft it sounds almost like a sigh. "I remember the starfish. But Savvy, that's just –"

"-meant to be? I know." Impulsively, and before Addison can contradict her, Savvy wraps her arms around her friend again. And this time, she hangs on. She's not sure which of them needs the hug more, but she has a feeling they could both benefit.

.-.-.

Derek is sitting in the large wooden swing on the verdant patio outside the door to their room at Reeds. His head is turned away from her as she approaches; he's watching the water.

"Hi," she says quietly when she's reached him and he still hasn't turned around.

Then she remembers that they have only one room key … and it's currently in her pocket.

"Oh … sorry," she says. "I, uh, I have the key."

He nods, but doesn't stand up, not does he look at her.

"It's … pretty out here, isn't it?" She shifts her weight, feeling strange to be … hesitating over small talk with the man she was married to for eleven years.

Is. Is married to. They're still married. She takes a deep breath.

"Can I…" She gestures to the empty spot on the swing next to him.

"Yeah," he says, and for a moment she thinks they're going to talk, that this is a good thing, but then he pushes off from the wide wooden boards and stands up.

"Key?" He holds out his palm.

She looks from the empty swing to his empty hand, then puts the key in the lock herself and opens the door.

"Are you changing for dinner?" she asks as the door closes behind them.

He turns halfway into the room to look at her. "You're really worried about what I'm going to wear?"

"Not worried, just … never mind. I just meant so you can be comfortable."

"Nothing about this is comfortable, Addison."

She stands where she is, on the green and gold hooked rug by the bed. A hundred images flit through her mind, too quick to see, too disjointed to hold onto.

"Derek…"

She's not even sure why she calls his name, and she's somewhat surprised to see him step out of the bathroom to answer her. When did she move to stand right by the door, anyway?

"What is it?"

He smells clean from washing his face, and like mint toothpaste, and everything about this, about getting ready for dinner together, just feels so normal. It's hard to remember everything that's happened, sometimes. He's freshly shaven and she would put one of her hands up to his cheek and say now this is how I like it and he would tease her and say don't get used to it and buff her with whatever scratchiness he still had left to make her laugh. She used to love kissing him when he was freshly shaven, right after so she didn't end up with beard burn on her lips, her chin, except even when she did, it was worth it.

"Addison..."

"What?"

"What's the matter with you?"

He doesn't say it aggressively; he looks confused, even curious. Was she staring?

"Nothing. Sorry."

He shrugs and puts the toothbrush back in his mouth.

There's something about the gesture, so familiar and sort of vulnerable the way it hangs between his teeth, that compels her to walk toward him.

Derek takes the toothbrush out of his mouth. "Now what?"

He spits in the sink, rinses his mouth – twice – and then rinses away the glob of green foam in the porcelain.

He always rinses twice, and she's suddenly curious whether the girl he's been seeing in Seattle knows that. Whether she's seen him brush his teeth with a damp towel around his waist or pressed the flat of her hand to his freshly shaven cheek and received a minty-flavored kiss in return.

He's dating. He's dating. They were AddisonAndDerek for so long she's not sure what it would be like to date someone new.

Mark is …

Not a date. Not someone she's dating. Mark is Mark, and … and he's left her a message that sounds concerned. And she gets that, because Derek was angry when he walked in on them – very angry – but Mark didn't see Derek the next morning when he was just … calm and blank and indifferent. When he stepped over her and then stepped out of her life.

"I, uh, … I need to brush my teeth too," she says meekly, gesturing toward the sink. She's wondering if he'll put toothpaste on the brush for her like he used to mornings when they were awake together for the same shift. They'd talk about their days, stumbling around sleepily…

"Fine. I'll be finished in a minute," he says, and closes the bathroom door, leaving her on the other side of it.

The sun has almost set by the time they make their way back to the hearth; the path from Reeds is dim, the waving reeds casting eerie shadows between their feet. There's a low breeze rolling in from the convergence of the rivers; it smells fresh, green and rich. The hearth looks very different when they get there: a fire is burning in the pit, and fragrant smoke is wafting up from an old-fashioned looking cauldron. Two people Derek doesn't recognize are stirring whatever is in the pot with long wooden spoons. Glass lanterns on the rock ledge provide some extra light.

Savvy walks up to them quickly. "Derek, your first dinner at the hearth – it's island stew." The man standing nearest Savvy chuckles, and Savvy elbows him. "Okay, fine, it's always island stew, but it's always a little different. Just go with it."

So he does, and when it's dished up in tin bowls and they're scooping it out with chunks of fresh bread, it's … surprisingly good.

Derek counts about thirty people gathered around the hearth, though it's hard to keep track since so many of them look alike and keep milling around, changing places. The mood shifts as the diners eat their fill, growing quieter and more pensive.

Savvy, who is sitting on the rough-hewn log bench next to them, is leaning back against Weiss, who has his arms around her.

Beau, across from them, is surrounded by blond children – one of them asleep in his lap, his wife cuddled up to his side. Bos has his arm through Big Randy's. Savvy's cousin Augusta – Derek recognizes her, he's been out with her in New York a few times and she looks a lot like Savvy – is holding a small blonde girl he assumes is her daughter on her lap with an arm resting across her husband's knees.

Derek can see Addison out of his peripheral vision as he watches the flames. Her dish is sitting in the grassy dirt next to her; she hasn't made much progress on her stew. She seems distracted by Savvy, who's whispering something to Weiss. She seems almost nervous when she meets Derek's eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Light from the fire is flickering over the faces of everyone gathered. When he turns fully to look at Addison he sees reflected flames dancing in her eyes. She doesn't seem bothered by the rough-hewn log bench, the ticklish reeds that poke up behind them, or the quickly crisping night weather. Apparently she only objects to camping out when it's his idea…

Conversation turns to Catherine, and stories murmur like waves up and down and around the circle, with family members talking sometimes in pairs or small groups, sometimes drawing in everyone.

When Big Randy starts to talk, the rest of the family falls silent. His voice is deep and loud, carrying over the sounds of the moving waters, the hum of crickets and the chirping of marsh frogs. "It's no secret to anyone here the island is special," he says. "Magical, even. I proposed to Catherine here. I needed the island's luck – well, after I got her daddy's permission, which was a whole other story."

"Tell them about the snakes!" Numerous cousins prompt.

"No, that's for another time. But I proposed to Catherine here, right there on the beach, in fact and, well …"

"…she said no," Bos teases, lightening the moment. Big Randy cuffs him playfully on the back of the head.

"She said yes," Savvy corrects. "Right over there, right, Daddy?"

"That's right, honey." Big Randy sighs. "If the island is magic … so was Catherine."

Murmurs of assent move around the circle; Derek is reminded of a quieter version of call-and-response in churches.

"Catherine, she … could always tell when someone needed something: a hug, a conversation, little extra space, white lightning, a slap … mainly this one here …"

He indicates Bos, who grins ruefully at this and rubs the back of his blond head.

"She had this way of figuring out what people needed and just … giving it to them. And if she chose you … well, you knew you were one of the lucky ones."

Addison sniffs audibly at this.

Derek glances uneasily at her. Addison doesn't break down in public – she barely breaks down in private – and he's not prepared to deal with it if she's changing the game.

"The first time she invited me out to the island and I was trying to make sense of it all, and I said to her, the island belongs to your family?"

Derek can tell by the murmur starting to run through the crowd that this is a familiar story.

"And she said, you've got it backwards … my family belongs to the island."

A few of the gathered relatives recite the words along with him.

"Right, Jack?" Big Randy turns to a muscular man with thinning blonde hair who looks to be around his age.

"Right." Jack nods. "My sister knew what she was talking about. Legend used to be that you could take that same curve on Black River that most of y'all did to get out here and not even see the dock to St. Cera's. Only if the island wanted you back. Then you'd see it. Otherwise … she wouldn't take you."

Addison's elbows are resting on her updrawn knees, she's holding her face with both hands. She seems surprisingly small in that position, or maybe it's just the number of very large Beaufort relatives taking up the space around them.

"If you're here right now," Jack continues, "…then my sister loved you, that's a given, but if you made it onto the island then there's a reason for that too."

Derek glances at Addison, who seems to be focused directly on the flames dancing in the firepit right now. The air feels heavy and sleepy, with many of the children dozing on their parents or playing quietly just outside the pit.

She doesn't look back at him, but a soft sound escapes her as the relatives continue to share stories. Awkwardly – which is strange considering that even after all that has happened between them, he has still been married to her for eleven years – he places a hand on her back. Her muscles tense at the contact but she doesn't push him away.

She's still holding her face in her hands, he can feel her breath hitch and moves his hand to her shoulder, gripping gently. What's strange is that she feels the same. She should feel different, because everything is different … but she feels the same.

The stories seem to last for hours, one relative picking up where another leaves off. Derek's aware some of them – or even most – are embellished, but the love with which they discuss Savvy's mother and banter about their own bonds and their connection to the island is clearly genuine.

The man he recognizes as Jack now finally calls the evening to a close, and sighs and a few popping joints provide background music as the crowd slowly starts to dissipate. Derek pushes himself off the log bench and then turns automatically to offer Addison a hand up; she takes it, and he pulls her to her feet.

And then he realizes what he did, and drops her hand quickly.

"Derek…"

He's already half-turned away.

"Wait," she calls, catching up to him and holding a lantern. "You don't want to walk back without this."

He doesn't acknowledge her further, but lets her light their way back down the path to Reeds. It gets quieter and quieter as the majority of Beaufort relatives drift toward the other side of the island where the family cottages lie. The few staying at Reeds enter on the other side of the complex.

Finally, it's just the two of them. Addison turns to him with one hand in her pocket.

He speaks before she can: "Are you planning to open the door?"

She's twisting the sleeves of her shirt, not looking at him. "You were … nice, almost, at the hearth…"

"I didn't want you to make a scene, that's all."

"Oh." Her face closes. "Yeah … I figured," and she turns the key in the lock.

.-.-.

Once they're inside their unfortunately shared room, he sidesteps her to sift through his luggage. Putting this day to bed sounds like a good idea.

…though he'd prefer a larger bed, or better yet beds in two different rooms, to do so.

Addison has the dresser drawer open – she always insisted on unpacking immediately when they checked into a hotel, for both of them, and he used to tease her about it. Now he's asserting his independence by not doing so, which is good. Except that his clothes are going to be wrinkled, and it's hard to find what he needs. But still … good.

He sees her hands go to the hem of her shirt, clearly preparing to -

"Addison!"

She lets go of the shirt. "What?"

"Do you mind?"

She sighs loudly. "You don't have to act like you've never shared a hotel room with me before, Derek."

He doesn't respond.

"Is this because of your girlfriend? You didn't tell her you were spending the weekend with your wife?"

"Addison." He turns back to her, massaging his temples. She's been all over the place since they got to the island – bitchy, then distant, then angry, then sad.

She props a hand on her hip, studying him. "Derek, she does know you have a wife, right?"

… and then bitchy again.

He exhales heavily. "Oh, would you just shut up."

He glances over when she doesn't respond. Addison never drops a fight if she can help it, but she's gone silent and actually looks rather small and hunched on the side of the bed.

"Now what?"

She doesn't say anything.

He's not going to play games with her. Not anymore. He tosses down the lid of his suitcase – all his clothes are going to be wrinkled, but he'll just have to deal with it – and heads into the shower.

When he gets out of the shower – or rather, finishes standing in the clawfoot tub spraying himself with a hand-held showerhead, he wraps a towel around his waist and then pauses with a hand on the doorknob. It's ridiculous – they've seen each other naked countless times at this point, but for some reason he feels more naked than usual. He pulls on one of the cotton robes hanging on the iron hook instead. No, not a hook, a – he looks closely – a finely wrought reed shaped in a curve to hold the fabric. It's another example of the odd combination of intricate handiwork and rustic roughness that seems to characterize Reeds, as if the place were built by two teams with totally different values.

Addison is still sitting in the same spot on the bed when he pads out of the bathroom, seemingly staring into space.

"Addison…"

"I cared about Catherine," she says stiffly. "I've known her since I was seventeen and … and she always … I cared about her, okay?"

Not enough to pick up the phone, but he's not so angry with her to say it out loud, just angry enough to file it away to use against her later, if necessary. Looking at the lost way she's staring out the darkened window makes him feel a little less angry.

"Okay," he says quietly. She doesn't move until he takes a half a step toward her; then, she turns away from him.

"Forget it," she mutters.

"You haven't changed, then." He's annoyed all over again. "Still as passive-aggressive as ever."

"You've changed, though." She turns back toward him, tears in her eyes now. "You've changed, Derek. You used to care if I was upset."

He doesn't take the bait, and she doesn't say anything else, just continues staring into space. He can tell by the set of her jaw that she's trying not to cry.

"Addison …." He studies the floorboards. "It's been a long day. And we have to … cook breakfast, tomorrow. I'm done in there, why don't you go get ready for bed."

He peels back the covers on his side –

No, on the side he happens to be sleeping on. His side sounds possessive, like they're still a couple.

But she's still sitting on the bed.

"It was just so fast," she says softly. "Here one minute, gone the next."

They've seen it countless times in the context of medicine, but he knows it's different when it's personal.

"How can something change so quickly?"

There's nothing he can say to that.

Slowly, Addison stands up and starts to walk toward the bathroom. When she passes him by he makes the mistake of eye contact and for one unblinking moment … he's lost.

It's like the water he was watching before, on the patio, when he was locked out of the room: there's so much to see below the surface that he's sinking. Then he sees the moment her lips part to speak to him, and he thinks he can see the shape of the word that's forming sorry, I'm sorry, and he doesn't want to hear it.

Not again.

So he turns away from and fluffs the pillows a few times instead of engaging. They have to sleep. They have to sleep because they have to wake up in the morning and get through the next few days. And he needs to go to sleep alone before he's reminded that they have to share a bed.

But when he looks up she's still standing in the open bathroom doorway, one hand resting on the doorframe. Her posture is quizzical.

"Derek … what are we doing?"

"What are we doing?" He echoes.

He moves the covers again, refolding the top of the quilt. Her expression is making him uneasy, something about her stance, the set of her face. Her feet aren't planted for battle like he expected, more just … trying to stay steady, it seems. Trying to hold herself up.

"We're … going to sleep," he says, investing the answer with as much finality as he can even though he knows he's not really answering her question.

She doesn't take his cue to stop talking, though. She actually takes half a step forward, toward him. "Listen … I know how this might … sound, but can I just-"

"Good night, Addison." He speaks over her last few words, pulling the chain next to his bed to send the room into darkness before he has to see the expression on her face.


TBC. Steps forward, steps back, oh, you two can't you just talk (no, they can't, or they wouldn't be in this mess). But they'll get there. Don't forget tomorrow morning they have to cook breakfast for everyone ... still enjoying, still reading? Review and let me know; it's good for my writer's block!