A/N: You are the most wonderful readers who ever reed-ed (get it? Reeds? Island humor ftw?). Thank you for staying interested in this story, for your feedback and your general awesomeness. Updated in less than a week, so not too bad, plus it's another long and meaty chapter. I hope you enjoy. Back to the island...


.-.-.

Some Bright Morning
15. lay we every burden down

.-.-.


Everything after the shower feels like a dream.

Not a pleasant dream, or a nightmare either, just – dreamy, soft, with blurred edges, from the thirsty towel he wraps around her shivering body to the feel of his arm around her guiding her inside. He rubs her hair from sodden to damp while she sits on the antique marriage bench and rests one hand on the empty place inside of her.

His hands are gentle, even caring, when he touches her, but she knows now not to read too much into it. He's a decent person, with an obligation to her after her medical crisis; that's why he's solicitous as she dresses, slowly, in soft and comfortable clothes, in the kind of lightweight fabrics she associates with the Island.

"You should lie down, Addison. Get some actual sleep."

"The funeral…"

"I know. You have time to rest for a few hours first, at least."

She wants to argue with him – not even sure why, maybe because she's not really tired. Her nerves feel alive and tingling, her insides cramping where she didn't even know a pregnancy was starting to grow.

The funeral is timed for sunset. It's already Tuesday, which is surprising in that particular Island way: part of her feels like she only traveled out here from Beaufort Grove five minutes ago; another part feels she's been here a lifetime. Something twitches in her stomach when she thinks about leaving.

Derek seems to read her mind. "Are you going to feel up to traveling on Thursday? That's just two more nights, and it's an early flight."

"I'm staying until Sunday, actually," she says quietly. "You know, to help Savvy with some things."

"Oh. Right. Well, that should be … good." He pauses. "Why don't you get into bed, Addie, and try to get some rest."

He's being gentle with her in tone and touch – so gentle it's hard to remember he's the same person who was yelling at her last night, who accused her of selfishness, of abandoning Savvy, who's been sparing no words in blaming her harshly for the end of their marriage, with brief interludes of kindness, since they arrived on the island.

How can he be the same person?

But maybe that's part of their problem. He is both of them, just like she's the woman who drove a stake through their marriage … and then all but threw herself at him in the shower. Reconciling their different parts is part of what they do. Or did. Because she hasn't parsed we shouldn't, not completely, except that she's fairly sure it has something to do with an intern waiting for him in Seattle. Or, if she's more fair to him, with what he walked in on in New York.

And even if some part of him cares – because he must care, to do what he did last night, she's almost certain of that – there are many ways to care.

She nods slowly.

He turns down the covers of the neatly made bed.

"Can I get you anything?"

She shifts, curling her legs in toward her middle. "I wish I had a heating pad."

"Actually … " He looks at the top of shelf of the closet. "There's one right here." He shakes his head. "Magic, or Savvy's family thinking of everything?"

She smiles a little. "Maybe both. How did you think to look?"

He shrugs, then plugs in the heating pad and she watches him move it from hand to hand, worrying the fabric between his fingers. His hands always have to be doing something and she misses the times when she would be what they were doing – playing with her fingers, stroking her hair, exploring the fabric of cuffs and collars.

She misses his touch.

"Are you, um …" She glances at the other side of the bed.

He shakes his head. "I think you should stretch out, Addison. You'll be more comfortable."

She won't.

"I don't want to sleep alone," she says before she can stop herself. "You said I would never have to." Her voice catches on the last word and when she sees his face she knows he's remembering too.

All he says is her name before she interrupts him.

"Derek, I'm not going to jump you," she tries to make it sound like she's joking, like she doesn't need him beside her.

If she needs him and he turns her down … it would be so much worse.

She takes a ragged breath and he flexes the heating pad in his hand, then rests it over her abdomen, moving his hand lightly over the material, ignoring the question hanging in the air.

"Are you in pain?" he asks finally.

"Not really. Not … not physically." She swipes a hand across her eyes, hearing her breath starting to come faster. She's not going to cry.

"Okay," he says quietly. "It's okay, don't get upset."

"Why not?" She pushes herself up to a seated position, his hand on the heating pad falling aside as she does. "Maybe it's not so bad to get upset. Maybe you should get upset more often."

"Addie…"

"Just leave me alone," she mumbles, squeezing her eyes closed – not even caring that it's the exact opposite of what she said before, and if it's unfair after all he's done for her.

He doesn't listen, anyway, he's still next to her when she opens her eyes.

"You know, the doctor said your hormones would be in flux as they reset…"

"Really? You think I don't know that? Did you forget my specialty?"

Her stomach feels hollow, there's a heaviness in her throat, and she thinks she'd like to provoke a fight to make herself feel better.

It's better than crying. Anything's better than crying.

But he's very calm when he replies. "I didn't forget your specialty. But it's different when it's you."

She doesn't respond.

"I'm going to get you some water, Addie. Just … try to relax."

She sips the water from the mug they've been sharing. "I'd rather have white lightning."

He smiles at her a little nervously. "Maybe hold off on that for now."

The water feels nice on her throat, cool and soothing. "They left us food, Addison. Are you hungry? Do you want me to-"

"No. I ate before we left the hospital."

"Not much, though."

"I ate half of that bagel," she reminds him.

"That wasn't a bagel. It was white bread with a hole in it."

She smiles a little. "What are the bagels like in Seattle?"

"Better than that." He takes the mug from her hand and straightens the pillows underneath her. "Lie down."

But she flinches when she tries to settle again; the heating pad helps but cramping spreads through her body nonetheless. But when he offers her the amber bottle from the hospital she shakes her head.

"Take the painkiller. Addie, don't be a hero."

She shakes her head ahead. He sits down on the side of the bed, the warmth of his body reaching her even though they're barely touching. She knows she'll be cold when he stands up again.

"Addison." He studies the pill bottle in his hand. "Alcohol and sex aren't the only things that numb the pain you know. They make actual medicine for that."

"Look who's talking," she mutters without any real malice, but when Derek holds out the pill bottle a second time she shakes one into her hand and swallows it.

She studies his familiar profile; he looks … like himself but she can see the exhaustion in the skin around his eyes, in the set of his jaw. "You must be tired," she says.

He shrugs a little and then takes the mug of water from her hand, indicating with a slight wave of his fingers that she should lie down.

We don't even need words. Eleven years of marriage and five years before, too. All that history.

She can't help chewing her bottom lip, just a little, as she glances at his empty side of the bed. "Are you going to … rest here?"

She hasn't yet ended the sentence if he says no I'll … but he doesn't, he just nods and for some reason he looks a little sad.

They've just been holding each other naked in the shower – like they have so many times before, she probably knows his bare skin better than her own – but they're back in the room now and decorum seems to have settled in, so she's not surprised when he pulls a soft t-shirt on before he slides into bed.

She's glad she took the painkillers, because her muscles are cramping uncomfortably as she shifts a little bit, trying not to be too obvious.

"Give the meds a few minutes to kick in," he tells her quietly, even though she didn't say anything.

He's mostly on his back next to her, one hand behind his head now, looking in her direction. The hand behind his head is the one on his other side; the arm closer to her is … empty, resting on the bed, softly curving around nothing. It's not an invitation, exactly, but she inches over with some effort and settles against him anyway. For a moment she holds her breath, waiting for him to move away, but he just closes his arm around her carefully. For a few familiar moments of shifting inhale and exhale they move in minuscule adjustments without discussing it, until her head is resting on his chest and the hand that was behind his head is lightly rubbing her arm, his other hand meshed in her damp hair.

She's exhausted.

She's suddenly, bone-deep exhausted, and her eyes are as difficult to prop open as they were on the boat. She says his name, quietly – not even sure why, to warn him? That she's going to sleep? But she feels him shushing her from somewhere inside his chest, an indistinguishable rumble that is nonetheless soothing. He doesn't say don't and he doesn't say we can't and she doesn't do anything except let sleep overtake her in his arms.

.-.-.

He must have drifted off, because a soft knock – on the window, not the door – wakes him. He blinks back to reality, which currently includes Addison's warm sleepy body curled around his, breaths soft and even against his neck.

Very carefully, so as not to wake her, he detaches her grip and moves her back to her side of the bed, then adjusts the covers around her shoulders.

He pulls open the door and isn't particularly surprised to see Savvy.

"What happened? Is she okay?" Savvy asks immediately.

He pauses.

"You don't want to tell me," Savvy correctly surmises.

"I'm sure Addie will tell you." Just … it's not his story to tell.

She nods. "Okay. But she's okay?"

"She's okay."

Savvy nods, looking relieved, then a smile crosses her face. "You took Beau's runaround."

Derek grimaces. "How mad is he?"

"He's not," Savvy says. "surprised, maybe a little concerned you two could have drowned, a fair bit impressed that you made it … "

Derek's face must show his disbelief because Savvy hastens to reassure him. "He is. I mean … that was a pretty crazy stunt. Beau respects crazy when it's for the right reasons."

"He doesn't seem to like me much."

"He's protective of Addie."

So am I, that's what he wants to say, but he can't. Not when he's just starting to understand how it wasn't always true.

"Derek," Savvy says gently. "You don't have to tell me what happened. But … you handled it all yourself. You didn't have to, you could have woken someone up –"

He shakes his head. He doesn't specifically say he couldn't leave her, but Savvy seems to get it.

"You didn't have to do it alone, is all I meant."

"She's my wife," he says softly.

"Yeah." Savvy studies his face for a second and then, impulsively, leans up to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm so glad you're both okay."

"…and not at the bottom of Three Rivers? You and me both." He smiles at Savvy. "I should go back in and check-"

But the door creaks open then. Addison stands in the open door, her hair loosely curled around her face from sleeping on it wet, cheeks rosy from sleep.

"Hey," Savvy says softly.

"Hey," Addison repeats.

"I'll … let you guys catch up," Derek says, glancing from one to the other.

"Derek," Savvy says quietly, resting a hand on his arm. "Weiss wants to talk to you. He's up at the cottage." She gives him directions, briefly, smiling. "I guess you can find pretty much anything after last night."

"Yeah." He glances at Addison. She looks more rested from her nap, her face less tense – the painkillers must have kicked in.

"You're okay?" He can't help asking it, waiting for her to make a face or even snap at him but all she does is nod, her expression mild.

"Okay. I'm going to go …" He gestures in the vague direction of the Beaufort cottages.

"See you later?" Addison's tone is just uncertain enough to make him consider staying behind. Which is strange.

"OF course." He says a quick goodbye to both of them. For some reason, as he walks up the reed-lined path, he can sense that Addison is watching him leave.

.-.-.

It takes all of her self-control – which her husband likes to tease her is more or less nonexistent anyway – to refrain from grabbing Addie and demanding to know everything that happened.

Because something happened. Something obviously happened. She's as certain of this as she is that her overnight sense that something was off was Addison. Was she sick? Injured?

Whatever she was, Savvy didn't know and couldn't help her.

But Derek knew. And Derek helped.

"You're okay now," she says softly, needing the answer to be yes.

"I'm okay," Addie responds.

Savvy can't help but notice how tired she looks.

"Do you want to go back inside?"

"No. The fresh air is nice."

"You didn't get enough of that on the boat last night?"

Savvy's not trying to be flippant, but it makes Addison smile a little so she's glad.

"I'm so sorry we worried you," Addie says softly. "It's the last thing I would have wanted. I … Derek probably overreacted…"

Of course. Addison always thought people were overreacting when they tried to help her. Savvy figured out years ago that that's a logical response to spending your formative years without any help at all.

"Thank you for checking on me."

"Please. Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

Addie smiles at the image. "Wild horses, or wild Weisses?"

Savvy smiles back. "He did his best," she admits. "Addie, I don't want to pry…"

"You couldn't pry."

"What happened?" Savvy asks quietly. "I know you didn't want to worry me, you never want to worry anyone, but I'm worried."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just – if you can, if you want to, tell me what happened?"

"I had a miscarriage." She says it matter of factly and Savvy flinches, remembering the last time. She said it the same way. Flat, no emotion.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."

Savvy moves forward to wrap her arms around her old friend, more loosely than usual to make sure she doesn't hurt her.

"I didn't know I was pregnant," Addison says, drawing back. "I didn't realize it until I … until I started…"

Savvy leads her to the porch swing and they both sit down.

"I'm so sorry, Addie."

"No, it's okay."

"And with the phone lines down. You must have been so scared."

"I was, until … well." she stops talking, then looks up at Savvy with tears in her eyes. "He stole a boat," she says softly.

"I know."

"It was raining and the phone lines were down and … he was there, Sav. He showed up."

"He showed up," Savvy agrees. "Addie…"

"But it wasn't like that," Addison says softly, as if she knows exactly what Savvy is thinking.

Savvy studies her friend for a silent moment. Addie's eyes are hazy with something – exhaustion, memory? She's fingering the bands on the fourth finger of her left hand. Maybe it's habit. But maybe not. Savvy glances between Addison and the closed door of their room at Reeds. Her gaze drifts to the dock where in the middle of a storm Derek piloted both of them to safety across unfamiliar waters.

She thinks of the two of them somehow making it through storm-tossed waters unscathed but not through a round of dishes at the Warehouse.

Why do they have to make it so hard?

Something her mother used to say pops into her head: sometimes the hardest things are the most worthwhile.

She and Augie used to elbow each other with gleeful immaturity when they heard that one, but beyond its potential for double entendre … Savvy thinks there's probably something to it.

She draws a deep breath.

"Addie," she says gently, "have you tried … talking to him?"

"To Derek?"

She nods.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Addie says after a moment, not meeting her eyes.

Savvy waits.

"It's not like that," Addison says finally. "He … doesn't want to. You know."

"You hurt him," Savvy offers quietly.

"I know that."

"Talk to him."

"I can't. I, uh, I shouldn't. We shouldn't." The ring-twirling increases in pace. She looks like she wants to say something else, but then she falls silent, and Savvy decides not to push. She just leans back in the porch swing, and then something occurs to her.

"Hey, Addie … you know what you need?"

"What?"

"Goat's Head."

Addison frowns. "You think?"

"I'll let you know. When we know when."

If Addie has a problem with this cryptic conclusion, you'd never know.

"Sav –"

"Hm?"

"What you guys did – you know, in the room – cleaning it and the heating pad and … thank you so much."

Addie's eyes are shining and Savvy rests a hand on one of her arms. "We didn't do anything."

"Your family is … incredible."

"You're one of them," Savvy reminds her. "But yeah, I agree, on both counts."

.-.-.

The solo walk along the path with birds calling above him and the breeze moving his hair is peaceful, even calming, after the turbulence of the previous night and the confusion of this morning. Weiss is on the porch of the cottage that must be theirs, and he waves when Derek approaches.

"What are you doing up here?" His question is friendly, but he seems confused.

"Savvy said you were looking for me."

"She did?"

"She said that you wanted to talk to me…"

"I did want to talk to you. I wasn't looking for you." Weiss furrows his brows. "Or maybe I was and I didn't realize it."

Or maybe Savvy wanted them to talk to each other, Derek realizes.

With good reason.

Weiss joins him on the patchy grass outside the cottage, and together they walk, without discussing the route, down to the closest dock. It's thin and rickety but they walk out far enough that the water surrounds them.

.-.-.

Weiss shifts on the rickety old dock, water moving gently around them in all directions. It's clear Savvy put him up to this, but Derek needs to take the lead.

And then he does, looking slightly ashamed and speaking quietly.

"Thank you," he says, "for taking care of Addison, you know, when-"

"You don't have to thank me," Weiss says abruptly, "and I didn't do it for you."

"Okay, I deserved that." Derek pauses. "I screwed up. I get that."

"Do you?"

"I do."

Weiss waits for Derek to say but she screwed up too or but she screwed my best friend, but he doesn't, he just stares out at the water.

"I wish I had known earlier."

"About Ethan, you mean?"

Derek's face changes slightly. "Is that his – she didn't mention his name." Derek pauses. "She said it wasn't that bad," he adds finally, his tone almost hopeful.

"She said that at the time, too." Weiss looks out at the water, images of a younger Addison, a younger Savvy. Savvy's teary face, it's my fault. "As in, when we found her."

Derek looks chilled. "When you…"

"I thought you said she told you what happened."

"She did, but –"

"She told him she was pregnant, and he threw her down a flight of stairs."

Derek's mouth is slightly ajar, and he shakes his head. "She said she fell. I mean, she said they were arguing, but…"

"He said he was only trying to push her off him, not down the stairs," Weiss says uncomfortably. "Uh, I guess maybe Bos believed him since he left in an ambulance and not a body bag."

"Jesus. And you …"

"I guess he was scared, ran off, he said he was going to get Health Services but Savvy found her first. She was hysterical, Sav. You know, she blamed herself."

"Why-"

Weiss doesn't answer. "And Addie, she said it wasn't that bad."

Derek flinches. "Was she…"

"Okay? Yes, actually. You know, banged up, but apparently being drunk protects the body a little. You probably knew that already. She healed up, took the MCATs, aced them, and Ethan withdrew, quit the program. It was spring break; he never came back to campus." Weiss pauses. "She told you about …"

"When he came back. Yeah." Derek frowns, looking concerned. "She said he didn't talk to her, it was just seeing him that …"

Weiss nods. "Yeah, that was enough to do it."

Derek is still looking at him. Maybe he wants to know more. Maybe he needs to know more. Weiss continues.

"It wasn't even five o'clock. It was just luck I got the message, I was calling the machine to see if the contractor had … it doesn't matter. It was early and she was … when I got there, they'd propped her up in this booth and there was some girl who worked there keeping an eye on her – thank god, because she was a mess, and the manager was trying to call 911."

Derek is silent.

"I'm no doctor but it was bad, Derek. We didn't wait at all, at the hospital. They pumped her stomach. And I guess that wouldn't have been a big deal for you since you crack skulls open for a living but I'm not a doctor and I guess I'm not very tough because I'd never seen someone get their stomach pumped before." Weiss shudders at the memory. "It was horrible."

Derek looks pained. "Weiss, I'm …"

"Sorry you didn't show up?" He can't summon any real anger, not at the man in front of him who actually seems to want to talk about this, who seems like … maybe he cares. Like maybe he cared all along.

Like maybe that night was an exception, not the rule.

He's not going to forget that phone call anytime soon. They pulled him out of surgery and he was breathless at first, what happened? And then when he said, Derek, you should come home, he asked it a different way: why, what's wrong. Weiss remembers that his fingers were shaking a little where he clutched the phone, that he still felt faintly nauseated from what he'd witnessed at the hospital … though he had no doubt Addison felt worse. You need to come home. It's Addison. And then there was a pause and Derek asked, what happened now?

And when Weiss said she needs you, Derek said, why. He didn't ask it; there was no question mark. Weiss who was trained to read inflection and demeanor and look beyond the verbal surface couldn't have missed that if he tried. She's upset, Weiss said. She's always upset, Derek said. Derek, Weiss remembers that he raised his voice slightly at this point, she was drunk. She was really drunk, and-

But Derek cut him off. –and let me guess, now everything's a crisis. Weiss, I'm sorry you're involved in … whatever this is … but I'm working right now. And she's fine.

Weiss remembers he removed the phone from his ear and just stared at it for the moment, as if a fuzzy connection could be responsible for what he heard. Derek… But before he could say anything else, Derek spoke again: Thanks for helping her, but you don't need to stay with her. If Addison needs me she can call me. And Weiss retorted before he could stop himself: Really? Because that's not exactly the impression I'm getting. And then he tried one more time, Derek, come home. She needs you.

There was a moment of silence that stretched on and Weiss remembers that for a brief moment of hope he thought Derek was about to agree. He heard his friend inhale and then he said: Just leave her on her side so she doesn't choke.

And then he hung up.

Derek's face looks pained at the recollection, his eyes soft and faraway. "I'm not proud of that," he says. "I was in the middle of surgery and I … I didn't realize how serious it was – not that that's your fault," he adds hurriedly. He's silent for a moment. "She deserved better," Derek adds quietly.

"Yeah, she did." Weiss can't bring himself to sound too angry – even though anger is less than what he felt the night of their phone call. There's recognizable pain in his friend's eyes, and it makes Weiss soften his own tone. "This is … is this really the first time you've talked about it with her?"

Derek nods slowly.

"But they were gone for-"

"I know. She told me. It just – the days blended together, I don't remember where she told me she went or …" or if she told me anything, Weiss thinks he can hear that unspoken conclusion.

"You never asked her … about that night? What happened, why I called you?"

Derek looks distinctly uncomfortable. "I thought she'd bring it up if … I mean I figured she just had a few too many, and then I guess at some point … I probably forgot," he says this last part as if he's embarrassed to admit it and Weiss is actually somewhat impressed he does.

"It was a hell of a lot more than just a few too many."

"I know that know." Derek pauses. "I, uh, I apologized," he says weakly. "When she told me, I mean."

Weiss nods. "Good."

"But," Derek says, "she, uh, she seemed to think I never spoke with you. Never called you back, I mean. That night. I guess that means you never told her about … our call."

Weiss stares out at the water. "No, I didn't."

He'd looked at Addie's pain-filled face and Savvy's set jawline and he couldn't tell them. Just leave her on her side so she doesn't choke. Those words echoed in his mind the next day when he put both women in a cab to the airport.

"Thank you," Derek says tentatively. "For not telling her. I think."

"Don't thank me. I'm not sure it was the right call, I just … couldn't tell her. Not that night. I figured you'd fix it, get past it, and it wouldn't matter anymore."

Derek's foot moves in the reeds, the rustling sound interrupting by a bird calling overhead.

"Are you going to tell her the truth?"

"I don't know." Derek looks pained. "I should. Shouldn't I? How can we … she can't forgive me for something she doesn't know I did. And besides…" his voice trails off. "I'm not sure it matters now, anyway."

Weiss stares at him for a moment. "Does that mean that-"

"Too much has happened," Derek says quietly.

Too much? More like not enough, Weiss thinks, and he's about to say it when Derek starts speaking again, glancing around as if considering the island as a whole.

"What did they do when they came here? Addie and Savvy, I mean. After."

"I wasn't there," Weiss says, but he can tell Derek has known him long enough to know when he's sidestepping a question. He didn't say I don't know.

"There's this … healing ritual," Weiss says finally, wincing slightly at how he knows it sounds. "Um. For lack of a better term."

Derek's eyes widen.

"I know how it sounds, but … ask her about it. Look, Addie's been an honorary Beaufort longer than I have," Weiss shrugs. "Maybe it's about time you signed on."

Derek seems to be considering this.

"You were quite the hero last night," Weiss says, changing the subject. "Even Bos was impressed."

"Are you sure you're not confusing impressed with annoyed?" Derek smiles a little. "I don't think Bos thinks very much of me at all."

"He's protective," Weiss shrugs. It's the same word Savvy used, earlier.

There's a gnawing feeling in his stomach. Nineteen-year-old Addison, hurt before he knew her … he couldn't have protected her then. But after that … he could have.

Or should have.

He wants to think it's would have, if he had known, if he had understood how deep the wounds ran and why she needed him.

But unfortunately, whatever word he chooses to talk about protecting her, the result is still the same.

He didn't.

.-.-.

Savvy watches the ceiling fan rotate lazily above the big white bed in her room at the cottage. The windows are flung open to the mobile island air, that familiar clean, green scent floating into the room at breezy intervals. She left Reeds when Derek returned, noticing a glance passing between him and Addison that she didn't quite understand. And then she was caught up in the island again, in the preparations for tonight, until she needed a break – space.

Which she found in her bedroom at the cottage. Weiss, lying next to her and seeming to pick up on her mood, glances at her.

"What are you thinking about, Sav?"

"Would you forgive me if I slept with your best friend?" She asks it abruptly, surprising herself a bit.

Weiss looks like he's considering the question. "You mean Ty from law school? He did pay his way through college as a Chippendales dancer…"

Savvy grins mischievously. "Ooh, I was thinking about Danny from high school. Ty is a definite upgrade."

"Take it back," Weiss demands, trapping her hands.

"Upgrade from Danny, I mean!" she says quickly. "No one's an upgrade from you, baby …"

They wrestle playfully for a few moments, and she appreciates the distraction, the way his touch has always made her feel.

Then she turns onto her side, serious again. "Really, though. Could you forgive me?"

"Objection … calls for speculation." He brushes a strand of long hair away from her face.

"Weiss."

"Sav. What do you want me to say, baby? Of course I think I would,I want to think I would, but you never know how you're going to react until something happens. Right?"

She shrugs.

"You think Derek knew he was going to steal a boat and Lancelot him and Addie across Three Rivers in a storm?"

"No … I guess not." She pauses. "Anyway, I have zero interest in Ty and you know it." She kisses the side of his neck. "All those muscles … ugh."

He pushes her away from him gently, making a face. "You do realize that's a backhanded compliment, right?"

"It was a real compliment!"

"I'll show you real compliment…"

She's been craving the distraction of his touch all day, needing it, and she now she falls into him gratefully. He always knows just how to make her feel better. It's slow and gentle, like the breezes wafting through the open windows of their room at the cottage, and when she's lying in his arms afterwards and the sun slants across the crewelwork on the blanket she's flooded with a sense of peace.

"I love you."

"I heard," Weiss teases her, and she moves to swat him, but he catches her and kisses it.

"Honey," she starts, "… about Derek…"

"Hey, you know what, babe? Talking about Derek kind of kills my afterglow."

She giggles. "Sorry."

He closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly summoning memories from a few minutes ago. "Ah. Much better. Okay, Sav … go on."

"You talked to Derek."

"You did too, didn't you?"

"Yeah." She pauses. "And Addie. I just wish they'd talk to each other."

"Why can't they?"

"That is the question." Savvy pause. "I think … I think she's angry."

"You mean about what happened two years ago?"

"No. I mean because she's still in love with him."

"She told you that?"

"Oh, honey, I've known her for twenty years … she didn't have to tell me."

"What about him?"

"He stole a boat." Savvy pauses. "Beau's boat. He navigated Three Rivers. You saw what he did to the bathroom door."

Weiss looks vaguely offended. "I've driven that boat."

"You're so cute when you're jealous," she teases him, twining a dark curl around one finger.

"I am not jealous," Weiss says firmly. "I'm just saying."

"That you'd break down a door for me? But I already knew that."

Weiss looks confused.

"Addie didn't," Savvy says softly. "You see? So it's different."

"Oh."

"He showed up. And, Weiss," she adds urgently. "The island welcomed him back."

"Sav…"

"You know that's –"

"-a myth. Savvy, not all the lore is real, and that one is-"

"-true," she says stubbornly. "In all the years you've been coming here, have you ever seen anyone arrive on the island without a Beaufort steering?"

"No," he says uncomfortably. "But … that's because you all believe the … "

" … truth?"

"I was going to say the traveler's curse."

"Same thing," Savvy says firmly. "Weiss … the island welcomed him back. You know what that means. He's supposed to be here."

"So that means he's … still in love with her, too?"

Savvy nods.

"Even after everything? You think they're both still … ?"

"Still. Again. More, I don't know."

"Well if she's still in love with him and he's still in love with her, then what's the problem?"

"They're the problem," Savvy sighs. "Addie and Derek and their thick skulls and their … stubbornness and … they'd better figure it out, Weiss, I swear, or the traveler's curse will be the least of their problems because I'll drown them both myself!"


To be continued. Let's hope Savvy isn't provoked to murder, but if anyone can do it, it's our beloved frustrating Addek. Thank you for reading. I love reviews like Weiss loves dorky lawyer jokes and Bos loves yanking Derek's chain. So please review!