A/N: Writer's block, I'm comin' for ya. I've been feeling stuck on a bunch of my WIPs but I'm gritting my teeth and powering through. Or trying, anyway. So here's the next installment of Addison and Derek and the Magic Island... I'd call this long chapter the other half of the middle. Enjoy.
.-.-.
Some Bright Morning
8. sit down by the river
.-.-.
In addition to the many adjectives he's heard about the Beauforts so far, Derek learns that they're resourceful too. Someone digs up dried oats and uses the cleaned and already heated pan to make enough porridge for the group that the ruined eggs are forgotten. One of the cousins is a professional pianist who uses her nimble fingers to scrape the most inedibly burned part off the sausages.
And so, the group is fed, if not exactly how they planned, and then the crowd thins out with blond heads darting off in every direction. Derek, who is in no hurry to go fishing with Beau and Boswell, lingers around the hearth to help clean up.
"Derek." Weiss gestures to him. "Come help me get the cart."
Derek follows his friend. "What cart?"
"You're seeing someone in Seattle."
Derek stops in his tracks. "Okay, that ... doesn't really answer my question about the cart. But … yeah. I'm seeing someone in Seattle. How did you know?"
Weiss shrugs. "Small island. Not sure anyone within fifty feet of breakfast doesn't know."
"Oh. Sorry." Derek holds open the swinging door of the shed Weiss has led him to, watching his friend wrestle a dolly from the tangle of equipment. He waits for judgment, follow-up questions, but they don't come.
"She's still with Mark," Derek says anyway. "She stayed with him after I left – did you already know that too?"
"Actually, no." Weiss seems to be considering this as he blinks in the daylight. "I guess you're louder than Addison."
"I can't believe anyone is louder than Addison."
For a moment both men smile.
Then Derek's face drops. "Weiss, did she say – I mean …?"
Weiss pauses. "I can't talk about it. Chinese wall, man."
"Excuse me?"
"You know. A conflict screen." When Derek still looks puzzled, Weiss sighs. "I don't tell Addie what you tell me, and I don't tell you what she tells me."
"What makes that Chinese?"
"We use a lot of outdated terminology in my line of work. Actually … I should probably look into that. Look, Derek … all I'll say is we love both of you. And Addison … she was a mess after you left. Sav had to make an emergency appointment to get her hair colored because she bleached it blonde."
"Addison dyed her hair blonde?" He tries, and fails, to picture it.
Weiss shrugs. "People do crazy things when they're heartbroken."
"Heartbroken?" He shakes his head. "Please. She slept with my best friend."
"Which was a lousy thing to do, and it's on her. I get that. Doesn't mean she wasn't heartbroken. You didn't see her, after," he adds.
He sees her now: a brief flash of her, sitting numb on the floor outside their bedroom door, ignoring his outstretched hand as he set his wedding down beside her.
"You're on her side."
"I'm not on anyone's side," Weiss says patiently, "and why do there need to be sides anyway?"
Derek shrugs this time.
"Fine, then I'm on both your side. She's … look, Derek, I've known her for a long time. Both of you, but Addison longer."
He glances at Weiss. "She didn't sleep with you too, did she?"
For a moment Weiss just stares at him and Derek tastes regret on his own tongue. He opens his mouth to apologize but Weiss speaks first.
"You get that one, Shepherd. One. I know you've had a hard month, and I know you two have been trying to keep it together for Savvy, but don't insult me, and my wife, and yours like that again."
"Sorry." Derek looks down at the reeds.
"Hey." Weiss claps his shoulder, dragging the dolly noisily along behind him. "You've got nothing to worry about with me, my friend. I'm not stupid enough to step out anywhere. If her brother didn't murder me first … Savvy would cut my junk off."
Derek snorts at this.
"The last time I let someone near it with a knife was almost forty years ago," Weiss adds, "and I have no desire to repeat the experience, no matter how tasty the Zabar's spread was afterwards."
Derek smiles a little.
"So. You're going fishing with the Bs, huh?"
"The Bs?"
"Beau and Bos." Weiss shakes his head. "You're a brave man."
"Is it … too late to back out?" He's only half joking.
"Definitely." Weiss gives him a little smile. "I'd come with you, but Savvy needs me to stick around."
"Of course." Derek sighs. "Look, Weiss, we didn't mean to … neither of us wants to drag our problems here. You and Savvy have enough to deal with."
"She wanted you here. We both did. Your problems are … part of who you are right now, and Savvy wanted you here."
.-.-.
Addison shades her eyes with her unbandaged hand, watching Derek and Weiss stroll down the path with a rolling cart behind them.
Most of the cousins have already scattered and the last few are carrying crates back toward the refrigerated storage unit. Derek lifts an eyebrow when he sees her.
"Why are you still here? You got off cleaning duty with that … wound," he says lightly, gesturing at her hand.
"I know, I'm just getting fresh air." It sounds like what it is: an excuse.
In truth she's lingering, dawdling, trying to soak up anything that remains from the moment they shared when he was bandaging her hand.
Because she wants to know how to recapture that moment. She wants to laugh with him again.
She wants to ask whether he's ever going to forgive her – not to rush him, not for ultimatum's sake, but so she can organize the confusion in her mind. So she can find a working order for the regret, the disappointment, the anger … and the worst part, the missing him. She doesn't know what it all means. Not when it's jumbled up like this. Not when she's busy taking the temperature of his shifting moods.
She needs him to decide first.
There's one brief moment where she wonders if he's waiting for her to take the initiative, and then another moment when the futility of that game of … emotional chicken … strikes her. She doesn't want to live in emotional détente.
"You missed a plate down here in the reeds," she says, pointing.
He glances over. "Can you put it in the bin?"
"I'm injured." She makes her face purposely innocent, wondering if she can get him to smile.
"Pick it up with your good hand," he suggests.
She does, and when she brings it over to the bin she pauses, close enough to Derek to see his face.
"You don't have to go, you know," she says nervously, watching him. "With those guys, I mean. Fishing."
"You volunteered me."
"I didn't! Beau said-"
"Not at breakfast, on the boat over here. With Beau."
She thinks back, then hears her own purposefully innocent tone. Derek loves to fish.
Was this what she had in mind? Goading him into heading out on the river without a buffer?
"You do love to fish," she says faintly. "And anyway, you don't have to go."
"Why do you keep saying that?" He studies her for a moment. "Do you not want me to spend time with Savvy's family?"
"Why wouldn't I?" She leans back a little toward the firepit, startled when he suddenly grabs her arm.
"Did you really just try to use a firepit that was lit until ten minutes ago as an armrest?" He's shaking his head as he moves them both a few steps away and then releases her arm. "How have you stayed alive for forty years?"
She points a finger at him. "You won't stay alive much longer if you're going to be implying that I'm forty."
He catches her finger like he used to when they'd tease each other, gripping it in his warm hand. "Don't point at me," he says and she swallows hard, because she can see the moment it registers in his eyes.
It meaning everything. All those things she can't organize either. The whole confused mess their marriage has become.
She wonders if he teases the girl he's seeing in Seattle. If she teases him. The intern. Does she point at him? Does he catch her finger in his hand if she does? She thinks about all the time they've spent over the years talking about medicine. They've spent their entire career together, from fresh-out-of-college, barely-out-of-their-teens all the way through medical school, residency, fellowship. Through publications and presentations and departmental takeovers. Parallel lines, train tracks running alongside each other.
Or into each other, maybe.
But really – what could he have to say to an intern?
He releases her hand and steps back. "I'm going straight to the dock after this," he says woodenly, starting to push the cart toward the path.
"See you later," she tells his back.
.-.-.
"Not bad for a New Yorker."
Beau and Bos are looking at him appraisingly as sorts through his gear.
"I'm not a New Yorker anymore. I live in Seattle."
"I thought New Yorkers were required by law to hate every place outside the city."
"I guess I'm unique."
Bos snorts at this, but not in a particularly unfriendly way.
Their attitudes are puzzling. From the moment they climbed into the little white boat, somewhere between a motorized skiff and a seafox, it's as if some kind of island truce took over the boat.
Maybe it's that the boat, while small, is roomy for three, with comfortably beat-up seats. They're the only ones out as far as Derek can see and Bos, a visor shielding his eyes from the sun, manages to join the conversation while he helms.
Derek realizes with a start that he hasn't been out in a boat with another man who loves fishing since his father died. Remember that Beau took his sons fishing the previous day is making him feel almost choked up, which he hides by aiming his face toward the sea spray. Bos hoots approvingly and speeds up.
"Big shot." Beau rolls his eyes, then focuses on his line.
"You hangin' in there?" Bos turns to Derek, who can't imagine that the line is directed to him, so free from malice is it.
"Yeah," he says finally. "It's, uh, pretty great out here."
"Isn't it though?" Bos leans back, one hand behind his head, the other guiding the wheel. "Feels like you're the only boat in the world."
And then he slows down and cuts the motor and they're floating, peaceful and quiet. The gulls are few and far between, there's little plink of tiny fish surfacing, water droplets being displaced, and that's it. The sun slices down between them; the cracked leather of the seat heats up under their legs. The air is still cool, even crisp, with a breeze blowing in from the island side; Derek keeps his barn jacket on, and the combination of chilly breeze and heated sun is undeniably pleasurable.
"Sometimes I wish we could just live out here," Bos says, Beau murmurs assent and, in spite of himself, so does Derek.
Bos studies him for a moment. "It's just little ones out here," he says finally. "We can go deeper tomorrow maybe, get out in the ocean and hit some of the big ones."
Derek's still not quite sure of the geography of the island, except that multiple rivers seem to be dumping verdant sheets of water into the path to the island, and the vast empty ocean waits on the other side with the kind of large catches he's not used to making.
Shading his eyes from the sun, he tilts his head back to catch a view of the island, a little smudge. He sees a second smudge, in the distance.
"What's that?" He points.
The men exchange glances. "Don't worry about it," Boswell says finally, which isn't particularly reassuring, but Derek drops it, assuming it must be some kind of Hatfield/McCoy situation.
"You want to talk about it?" Beau's question comes as such a surprise that Derek just stares at him in response.
"Or you just want to blame her for it," Boswell suggests.
Here it comes. He knew he wouldn't be able to escape unscathed. He's still sure how much, if anything, they know.
"We know," Bos says as if he can read Derek's mind.
"You know and you still think it's my fault." Derek shakes his head. "Unbelievable. Of course you don't think she did anything wrong."
"What she did was more than wrong," Beau says bluntly. "It was terrible."
He doesn't have anything to say to that.
"We know what she did. What we don't know is what you did."
"What I did – that wasn't until after." He's thinking of Meredith.
"No … I mean before."
Derek glances at Beau. "I don't understand what you're asking."
"It takes two people to make a marriage. It takes two of 'em to break it too. You must've thought about your part in it."
"She broke it," he insists.
"She's responsible for her part," Beau confirms smoothly. "Is she taking responsibility?"
He thinks of her apologizing, the way she chased him down the stairs the night he caught her, I'm sorry for everything, she said on the patio last night, but he's also thinking of her flippant tone, her seeming entitlement to his forgiveness.
"I don't know," he admits.
"Were you a good husband?" Bos asks a question now, head slightly cocked.
"I don't know," he says again.
"You don't know?"
"How can I…?" His voice trails off. He turns the question around, directing it to both men: "Are you good husbands?"
"You'd have to ask Lily," Beau says.
"You'd have to ask Casey," Bos agrees.
Derek exhales a frustrated breath. "That's what I just said … never mind." He turns to Beau, realizing he hasn't met Bos's wife yet. "What if Lily slept with your best friend?" He says it boldly, bluntly, half expecting to be punched or shoved off the boat, but Beau seems to be considering the question seriously.
"I don't know where she'd find the time, with five kids. It would be pretty impressive, actually."
"This is funny to you." Derek shakes his head. It was a mistake to think these men were anything but-
"Sorry," Beau says quickly, and actually sounds sincere. "It's not funny. It would be horrible," he admits. "The broken trust … and hearts … and look, no man can say what he would do, only what he's done, but I'd like to think I'd try to work it out. At least try to figure out what happened, if nothing else."
"For the kids, you mean?"
"No, for us. We married for better or for worse. The for better part is the easy part. Anyone can be married for better. I'm speaking from experience," Beau adds.
Derek glances at him. "Your wife…"
"…didn't cheat on me, no, but … well, our first two boys, they're only a year apart. We had Tatt first – that's junior, and when it was just him we thought we had it made. We were tired but we had each other and we had a sweet baby and things were … good. Then we had two babies and the second had colic and the both of them seemed to need us every single second. Six months later she's pregnant again and you can imagine how popular that made me at home. We never slept, we were hardly ever alone … it was hard. It was bad."
"What happened?" Derek looks from one man to the other. "You didn't … ?"
"…leave her? Hell, no. Her daddy would've chased me wherever I went and disemboweled me, and that's if he was feeling generous. And my folks would have been right behind him. But I did talk to my parents. They got married and stayed married and had all four of us pretty close together. I said, when are things going to go back to the way they were?"
Derek nods, waiting.
"And they said never." Beau lets that sink in for a minute. "There's no going back. Babies … they change things. You can't get the marriage back you had before. You can get a new one, if you work at it, maybe even a better one, but it takes time and effort and all that not-easy stuff no one wants to do. So," Beau pauses, leaning back on his seat and looking at Derek. "Maybe you need a new marriage."
"A new marriage." Derek shakes his head. "We're not … this isn't reconciling, we're just … "
"Okay." Beau shrugs. "If you're giving up, you're giving up. Look, we don't really know you. But we've known Addison longer than you have."
"Hell, even Weiss has known Addison longer than you have," Beau adds.
"He has?"
"Yeah, remember? Weiss vetted him and then he said-"
"Vetted me?"
Beau frowns. "He was protective, after-"
"Beau." Bos interrupts him.
"Weiss is a protective guy," Beau says smoothly.
Bos starts talking before Derek can. "When y'all got engaged, Savvy said you were good for her. That you loved her."
"I was. I mean … I did."
He hasn't thought about their engagement in a long time. He thinks of it now instead of wondering why Savvy's brother and cousin seem to have been informed of his and Addison's engagement.
As for his proposal … perhaps unfortunately, he can still recall it as quickly as dispensary shorthand. The locker room, strung with Christmas lights. The other interns were in on it; only a month was left of their first year anyway. He didn't care what their resident said, didn't even care when Richard scolded him – he had a twinkle in his eye anyway, Richard loved Addie and no one was happier than Addie. Unless it was Derek. A thousand tiny white globes of light playing on the pink of her scrubs, the blue of her eyes, her long bright hair. If you marry me it will be like our favorite season all year long, that's what he said, and I promise to give you Christmas every day of the year.
He's gazing out at the water; when he turns his head Boswell is studying him.
"You weren't supposed to hurt her," Bos says quietly.
He opens his mouth and then closes it a few times, feeling like one of the fish on the line. Caught in a hook. The whole island is a hook that's trapped him.
"What about you?" It's Bos's question this time. "Did you break any marriage vows?"
Fidelity isn't the only vow, you know. You also took vows, Derek, and one of those was to love me.
"When do I get to ask a question?" Derek looks from one Beaufort to the next.
"Not until you earn it," Bos says, and Beau nods in agreement.
"I didn't … cheat on her," Derek says finally.
"Don't you have a girlfriend in Seattle?"
"How do you –" He breaks off before either man can say it's a small island. "I'm … seeing someone, yes. But I went to Seattle after … what she did," he clarifies.
"But you're still married."
"Separated."
The men exchange a glance. "So you're getting divorced?"
"I don't know," he grinds out, adjusting his line. "Look, we didn't want to bring our problems to the island. You've had a loss, and we came to support you."
Bos studies him for a moment. "My mama loved interfering in other people's marriages," he says, and his cousin laughs.
"It's true. Someday after a few beers maybe you'll find out what Aunt Kate told Lily at the wedding." Beau looks out at his line. "You must be hurt," he adds.
"Hurt?" Derek leans forward in his seat. "Why?"
"It would hurt," Beau says simply. "If it were Lily. If it were me. I would be hurt. I would be sad."
"Well, I'm not," Derek says, staring out at the water, trying to pin the horizon with his eyes.
"Okay," Beau says.
"We believe you," Bos adds."
All three men will swear later they have no idea what happened next, some combination of Bos reaching out to gesture as he speaks, Beau pulling back on his line, and Derek glancing down into river.
But the next thing that happens is cold, cold, surprisingly so very cold surrounding him as he plummets into the water.
"Derek!" Both cousins are shouting his name as he surfaces.
"You pushed me overboard!" He spits this, swiping soaking hair out of his eyes. He took off his life jacket to get more comfortable and now he's expending energy treading water. Somehow the line stayed in the boat. And the other two men didn't capsize. Maybe the island really is magic.
Bos holds out a large red and white flotation device. "Well?"
"I'm not getting back in the boat," Derek pants angrily, treading water in sweeping, furious gestures.
"You want to use up all your energy when you're dumb enough to take off your PFD?" Beau turns to his cousin. "Bos, maybe we should just let Darwin have this one."
The sun is glinting off the water and his clothes are heavy.
"Derek! It wasn't on purpose, you maniac." Bos is glaring at him and his voice sounds more far away now. "Take the buoy or drown, it's your call."
"Addie won't be happy if we drown him," Beau warns Bos. "Even if she should be."
"Admit that you did it on purpose," Derek challenges, his teeth chattering as he circles his arms and legs, trying to stay afloat and stay reasonably warm at the same time.
"You're not really in a position to negotiate right now, are you?" Beau's tone is pleasant. "You have no boat, no life jacket, and no idea what's in that water."
Derek forces his face to remain neutral.
"Just get in already." Bos chucks the pellet-shaped flotation device harder this time, so that it bounces off Derek's half submerged shoulder; on instinct, he grabs it.
And then Bos, who is alarmingly strong, hauls him in single-handedly.
A sopping-wet Derek perches on the bench, attempting to hold his head high while dripping streams of water down to the bottom of the boat. Dignity seems as far away as New York City right now.
Neither of the Beaufort cousins is laughing, though.
Bos studies Derek for a moment. "Okay," he says finally. "You've earned a question."
Derek asks it quickly, before he can change his mine.
"When was the last time my wife was here, on this island?"
There's a long moment of silence. "I … think it's about time to head back," Beau says finally, unnecessarily, since they've already turned the boat.
"You said I earned a question."
"Not that one," Bos says darkly. "You haven't earned that one."
.-.-.
"You talked to Derek."
Savvy's voice is a quiet hum that blends perfectly with the sounds of the tree frogs and the scattered scampering noises that are somehow peaceful instead of ominous. The unsettled land around the cottages is unexpectedly soothing, serene, as if the wildlife and the Beauforts struck a deal long ago not to interfere with each other.
Come to think of it, Weiss wouldn't be shocked if they did.
He's sharing a quiet moment on the porch swing of the old cottage with his wife now, mostly not even rocking, just slowly drifting when the breeze moves them. Savvy's legs are in his lap but she's leaning back against a worn cushion on the other side of the swing, and she's been determined since they sat down to talk about what Weiss thinks of as Other Things.
Other Things – one of the talking points around a funeral. There's also Keeping Busy, that's an important one.
They spent almost forty minutes dissecting a thorny evidentiary issue, and now that they've hashed out a rough solution, she seems to be moving on to talking about Addison and Derek.
"I talked to Derek," he confirms.
"But you didn't tell him."
"I told him about the blonde hair."
"You did?" She makes a face, apparently remembering the blonde hair.
"I did."
"But just about the blonde hair," she clarifies.
"Right."
"Honey..." He's been resting his hands on her shins while they talk, and he moves them now, starting what he hopes will be a comforting massage.
"I'm not just trying to distract myself," she says immediately, anticipating what he's going to say. "I care about them. Addie and Derek. You know I do."
"I know you do."
"I can think about more than one thing at once, you know. Rumor has it I'm actually fairly intelligent."
"I know that too."
But her breathing is quickening.
He reaches across the length of the swing to cup one soft cheek; she closes her eyes and then a tear splashes onto his hand.
"I just miss her," she whispers. "I miss her so much already, and it's only just begun."
He rearranges them both then, moving her legs off his lap so he can pull her into his arms. Gathering her close, he lets his shirt and his shoulder absorb her tears while he murmurs soothing sounds into her silky hair.
She cries for a while as they rock, purposefully now, and when her tears have stopped falling she stays in his arms for a while, resting against him. He strokes her head, not rushing her, letting her break away on her own timeline. Finally she pulls back and just gazes at him sadly.
He is reminded when she does that up close, her eyes aren't purely blue – they're mostly blue, but with a narrow golden ring around the pupil. The first time he kissed her and noticed that shade of hazel she was hiding, he decided he was in love. What other woman had a secret eye color, one that was just for him?
"Savvy." He strokes her wet cheek. "Grieving … it's a process. There's no rush. You have all the time you need."
She closes her eyes and he feels their absence.
"I thought he would show," she says quietly when she opens them.
And we're back to this.
"I know, Sav. You said it, then, too."
He can hear her small voice, see her see her slumped against the wall. I just really thought he would show.
"Maybe if we had called again…"
Derek, you should come.
"Sav … it wasn't our fault."
It's Addison. She needs you.
"I know."
He hears Derek's voice, slightly muffled down the line. She needs you, that was what Weiss said. Why. That was Derek's reply. There wasn't even a question mark at the end. Just one flat, expressionless word. Weiss remembers feeling slightly taken aback.
If Addison needs me she can call me, Derek said then. That was when Weiss had to struggle to keep his patience. Really? Because that's not exactly the impression I'm getting.
He considers himself a straightforward guy – blunt, even. Many an opposing counsel would sign on to that characterization, and Derek too probably, but Weiss didn't usually lose his patience with his friend. Not like this. And thinking about the words Derek said just before they hung up … there's a prickle on the back of his neck, still.
"He doesn't know," Savvy says softly, her voice a little husky from crying. "He still doesn't know. Maybe, if you talk to him…."
"We tried that, remember? Didn't work so well." Gently, he brushes her hair back from her face. "You're not going to be happy until he eats crow, are you?"
"Honey." She smiles, bright blue eyes crinkling. "You know we haven't eaten crow on the island in at least a hundred years."
He can't help smiling back, feeling emotion start to thicken his throat. No matter how bad things get, everything is better when she's in his arms. When they're together. He opens his mouth to tell her that when he hears a rattling sound from the low smoked glass table in front of them – Savvy's phone, buzzing.
He releases her so she can reach for the phone.
"I hope it's not Bos calling to say they pitched Derek overboard," she says ruefully, turning the device over in her hand to see who's calling.
Her face changes.
"Oh, it's Bertie. Let me just take this."
She pushes off the swing and starts pacing the porch, automatically skipping the loose floorboard on each circuit.
Her secretary. Weiss is confused for a moment. Bertie has worked for Savvy for years; she's been sensitive and attentive since Savvy's mother's sudden illness and decline. Savvy painstakingly reassigned all her cases and filed everything necessary for leave; it's not like Bertie to call without warning unless …
Shit.
.-.-.
Addison is waiting for them on the dock with her hands on her hips and her eyes widen when she sees the state of him. He's reminded, inexorably, of how his mother looked when he and Mark tried to come back in the house after spending a glorious kindergarten afternoon jumping in every mud puddle in the backyard.
"You're soaking wet!"
"I'm fine," he assures her as Savvy's cousin guides the boat in, but she's already glaring at Bos and Beau.
"What did the two of you do?"
"We didn't do anything!" Beau raises his hands innocently, letting Bos take over. "You heard the man, Addie, he's fine."
She's still glaring as Derek prepares to exit the boat; she extends a hand and he takes it, confirming it's the uninjured one first. There's no time for dignity when he's soaking wet and very cold. Very, very cold in certain places that don't like the cold at all.
"Your hand is freezing. You must be freezing."
He can't exactly tell Addison she's off base; the sun is hitting the dock right now and it's wonderfully warming but not enough.
"Derek." Addison is tugging at his wet barn coat, trying to push it off his shoulders. "You need to take off your wet clothes."
"I guess we should give them some privacy, Beau." Boswell winks at Derek and he sighs, backing away from Addison's hands.
"Do you mind?" He ducks as she reaches for his coat again. "I'm not stripping on the dock."
"Derek … what happened out there? You fell out of the boat? Was it okay, I mean –"
"Addison, it's fine, I just want to go change."
She doesn't push it, just nods, but she grips his sleeve in her hand as she tugs him toward the path that will lead them from the dock to Reeds.
"Addison … I'm wet, not injured. I can walk just fine."
He sees a flush rise in her cheeks; she releases his coat, nodding decisively. The walk back to Reeds is all small talk along the path, the kind that would be normal with anyone else except Addison. He tells her what they caught, she tells him what she did in his absence. They're perfectly polite, formally friendly, casually cold.
It's all wrong.
But they're not fighting, so maybe that's something? He's not sure, really. The only thing he's sure about is that he's cold, and that walking in sopping wet clothes … is extremely uncomfortable.
She blocks the door with her body when they get to Reeds.
"Addison…"
"No, you'll get the floors wet and they'll be slippery. Leave your clothes out here."
"Are you just trying to get me naked?"
He says it without thinking, his brain or his mouth or both forgetting that they're not in a position to tease each other anymore, and her face flushes deeply this time.
"Just … go in and bring me a towel, will you?"
She does, and waits until he stares at her pointedly before she ducks back into the room. He strips quickly and efficiently on the flat patio surface, wrapping the towel around his waist and draping his wet clothes wherever seems the least damaging. He'll worry about wringing them out later; now he needs to wash three rivers off him.
There's an outdoor shower – or at least a cube of teak open to the sky with a visible silver arc of faucet, but he's too cold to consider that, so he pushes open the unlocked door to Red Fox and makes the best of the claw-foot tub and the hand-held shower head, trying to warm up.
Wrapped in his robe, he towel-dries his hair while staring at his face in the mirror. He got some sun out on the boat, despite how cold he was by the time the fishing ended; there's color to his face that wasn't there when he left Seattle.
He thinks about Beau and Boswell, the cousin shorthand they exchanged on the boat that seemed like something more.
They know something I don't.
It's a disconcerting feeling. They judged him, on the ride. They criticized him, they asked difficult questions, they demanded answers he's not sure they deserved.
But they were almost … decent. Like they weren't taunting him for sport. Like they actually cared what happened to his marriage.
Why? Why did they care so much? Why did they have their own opinions of the Shepherds' engagement? He has no recollection of meeting Beau before the wedding; if he concentrates hard he can recall seeing Bos a time or two in the city, when he was visiting Savvy, but he would no more expect them to be dishing out relationship advice than for Nancy to weigh in on Savvy's marriage to Weiss.
Okay, that's a bad example, since Nancy weighs in on everything. But it's not the topic that's bothering him – it's how familiar they seem. He's missing something.
You weren't supposed to hurt her.
He remembers the question they wouldn't answer – the last time Addison was on the island. With one last towel rub to his drying hair, he steels himself
"Addison." He pushes open the door, a cloud of steam following him into the cooler air of the main room. "We should … talk."
She doesn't respond; she's facing away from him, toward the wide windows that look out on the water.
"Addie, did you hear me?"
When he crosses the room, he sees she's holding her cell phone with a dazed expression on her face.
He tilts his head, trying to catch her eyes. "Addison – what's wrong?"
She draws an audible breath before she focuses her gaze on him. "It's Savvy."
TBC. You hate me - just admit it. SORRY! On that note, who thinks Derek fell overboard of natural causes? I haven't decided. As for enjoying seeing him get dunked ... I imagine that's a higher percentage. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. I promise everything will make sense/happen eventually (tm bastardization of Bones). But distractions abound ... speaking of distractions, pretty please review and distract me from my work so I recover from my block? Thank you bunches and happy Friday!
