A/N - Sooo, this is a rather long chapter. But I tend to love long chapters, so hopefully you guys won't mind. I wanted to say thanks so much for the great reviews I got for the first chapter. It helped me feel a lot less nervous about this story. I'm glad people are enjoying the two POVs, and that Derek's is at least somewhat believable. (He is tricky, lol) Anyway, this is an angsty chapter for both Meredith and Derek. I've always pictured Derek as the type to sit there, all dark and brooding. So yeah, I'm letting him brood a little. That's all, ready away and review!

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Meredith

I never realized how much Izzie's incessant baking helped make my house feel like a home. It's cheesy, and I better make sure I never admit it to Cristina, but there was something really nice about waking up to cupcakes on the counter and Izzie fussing about. Because now, when I walk inside the kitchen, it's always dark and empty. There aren't any dirty mixing bowls rinsing in the sink, and the room smells of nothing except maybe a vague hint of leftover coffee. It's cold and empty, and it makes me miss Izzie.

I don't even bother to check the other rooms when I come home. She's always in her bedroom. I just hurry up the stairs and knock on her door. There's no answer. (As usual. I'm getting good at how we do this.) "Izzie," I call gently. When she still doesn't answer, I knock again, louder this time. I pretty much do it because it feels rude to barge in. She never bothers to answer, but she never bothers to lock her door either.

I open the door and walk in, squinting to see in the suddenly darker space. She's laying on her side, with her back to me. Her hair is splayed out behind her, a tangled, pale mess against the darker shade of her pillow. "Izzie…" I say again. "Izzie I know you're awake." Cristina thinks it would be better just to leave her alone, but Izzie's eyes have turned blank and glazed. I'm seriously afraid to leave her alone too long. "Iz, come on," I beg, walking around to the other side of her bed. She's not even pretending to be asleep. She's just laying there, staring off at nothing. "How are you doing?" I ask, kneeling down into her line of sight. She blinks and shifts, seeming to just now notice me.

"Meredith…" she mumbles quietly. Alright, progress. She usually just turns her head the other way. I nod hopefully.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing," she sighs. Great. So much for progress. She starts to turn her face into the pillow, but I reach out and grab her wrist.

"Come on Izzie. You've got to do something," I press. (I really want to get to Joe's already, so hopefully we can hurry this along a little bit.) "Have you eaten anything?" She just gives me an empty shrug. "Want me to order you some food? What about that really good Mexican place? You liked them." Izzie just continues with the blank stare. "Or…I could microwave you something," I offer. I can't cook. With me, microwaving seriously is the best option.

"Umm…" says Izzie softly. Her voice barely qualifies as a whisper. I nod again, watching as she slowly sits up. It's hard to describe just how slowly she's moving, but it's at a speed that makes the elevator ride I had with Derek this afternoon feel like a ride on a jet plane. Or a cheetah. Or anything really, seriously fast because wow…Izzie is still only halfway to sitting up. I didn't think it was humanly possible to move this slowly. "Microwave," she finally says once she has leaned herself comfortably back against the pillows.

"Microwave," I agree. Before she has a chance to change her mind, or shift into crying instead of reluctant conversation, I give her shoulder a squeeze and hurry back downstairs. The cabinets are pretty empty. I think both George and I have been feeling too overwhelmed to deal with grocery shopping lately. Although, unless Callie's secretly married and George is also potentially dating a vet, I think George should get to do the shopping. I'm definitely the one who's more overwhelmed out of the two of us. To convince him though, I'd have to tell him about sleeping with Derek. Not a good idea. Once you've burst into tears while a guy's on top of you, all future conversations about your respective sex lives become incredibly awkward. Yeah…it's best not to say anything and just take my turn with the shopping. Unless Callie already told him. Crap. But I don't think she did. I am pretty sure that I would have gotten a well meant George-lecture by now if she had. But I don't know for sure. Double crap. See…this is why you shouldn't sleep with your married boss/ex-lover (who broke your heart) where just about anyone can catch you.

I mean…it's why you shouldn't sleep with him at all.

Yep, no sex with Derek.

Ever...

I wish I sounded more convincing. This would be a lot easier if either one of us were bad in bed. (Which we aren't. Obviously.)

Anyway, I'm supposed to be cooking for Izzie. Or microwaving, whatever…same difference. We've got cereal, Ramen noodles and leftover pizza. Wow, this is actually worse then college. Ramen noodles it is then. This stuff actually smells pretty good. It's reminding me that I haven't eaten anything since five o'clock this morning. I'd make another bowl but I really want to get to Joe's already. Besides, I can eat there. Joe serves peanuts after all. Yeah I know, hardly sensible. But seriously…why start with sensible now after all this time?

So instead, I hurry back upstairs again, trying not to spill any of the broth on the floor as I make it to Izzie's room. She's still sitting there, just as I left her. "Here Izzie," I say as I sit down on the bed next to her and pass her the bowl. She looks closer to crying then she did when I first came up, but she actually manages a little half-smile.

"Sorry…" she mumbles. She says it so softly that I almost don't hear her.

"Why Iz?" I ask, shifting around so that I'm facing her. She shrugs her shoulders, her expression growing almost childlike. But after a moment, she lets out a short bark of a laugh, and when she speaks she sounds more like the Izzie Stevens I remember then she has all week.

"For being so pathetic." I actually smile as she says that. I was starting to think that there was nothing at all left of Izzie within her, that Denny dying had so devastated her that she'd become a new person. A new, empty, lifeless person, but still a new person. But that there…that was a little like Izzie. And so I'm smiling.

"It's okay," I say quickly. "We understand." But even as I speak, I can see her slip back into silence. She gives a weak shrug and stares down at the noodles floating in the bowl. "You know you can talk to me if you need to," I add. "I'm here for you Iz." I want another glimpse of the old Izzie, but I don't get it. She simply gives a very vague nod and absently stirs the soup. I sit there for a good five minutes, and she doesn't move at all. Finally I sigh and get up off the bed. "I'm going to Joe's, but George should be home soon," I say, as I glance back down at the untouched food. "You should try and eat that before it gets cold," I add. Izzie sighs but takes a halfhearted bite as I head towards the door.

I almost feel guilty for leaving Izzie alone. But as I step outside, purse clutched between my knees as I struggle to simultaneously pull on my jacket and lock the front door, I hear two familiar voices. George and Callie. Excellent, I'm not actually leaving Izzie alone.

"Umm…Mer, what are you doing?" asks George, eyeing the admittedly bizarre angle I've twisted my body into.

"Locking the door." I straighten up and turn around, avoiding meeting Callie's eyes. I'm not exactly sure where the two of us stand now that she knows I'm an evil dirty mistress. She hasn't said anything about it, and the looks I've caught her giving me don't exactly qualify as dirty. But, I wouldn't call them sympathetic either. Basically she makes me nervous. And guilty. Definitely very guilty.

"Hello Meredith," she says evenly. Great, now I've got to look at her. I was hoping we could pretend to not see each other. Sort of how Derek and I were pretending, until today that is. I've had to pretend a lot since the dirty prom sex. And…look at that, my mind is back on what Derek and I did. See Callie really is fabulous at inducing the guilt, and all she's said so far is hello. I wonder if she's met my mother. That could explain things.

"Hey Callie," I say, hoping that George isn't picking up on all the weirdness. I glance up at her, and she raises an eyebrow. However, she doesn't say anything else which must mean she hasn't told George. Thank you Callie! Seriously, thank you! That's one less problem for me to drink away tonight. "I made Izzie soup," I continue, turning to look fixedly at George.

"You cooked?" he asks skeptically, grinning at the idea.

"Yes, I cooked," I say sounding slightly defensive. His eyebrows shoot up even higher at my words, and I can't help but smile somewhat sheepishly. "Fine…in a microwave," I admit. "Just check and see if she eats it, okay? She was being, well…you know."

George frowns sadly, his eyes instantly growing wide and worried as he nods. "The same."

"Yeah, the same."

"I'll check on her," he agrees. His shoulders slump dejectedly as he speaks. This has got to be even worse for him then it is for me. I mean, Izzie is his Cristina after all. I nod and start to shuffle past the two of them, when George looks back at me. "Where are you off to Mer?" he asks.

"Meeting Cristina at Joe's." I cringe slightly at Callie's expression. She's probably just decided that I'm not only a whore, but an alcoholic whore. Although actually, any of the nurses at work would've been happy to tell her that long before now. Apparently my life is one of their favorite topics. At least, that's what Izzie's always said, and she's a much better gossip then I am. "I've gotta go," I say quickly. And I turn and hurry down the porch steps to my car before George can get in a reply.

Even though it takes me awhile to get to Joe's, I still beat Cristina there. "Long time no see Dr. Grey," calls Joe teasingly as I walk up to the bar.

"Yeah. I know." I just sigh and sink down onto a stool. Joe takes one look at me and reaches beneath the counter. I smile as he sets a shot glass full of tequila down in front of me. "You know, I love you Joe," I say before swallowing the shot. I really do. Love him, that is. He's so nice and he's got tequila.

"Aw Mer, I love you too." I look expectantly at my now empty glass, and he refills it for me. "McDreamy again?" The tequila burns as it rushes past my lips and down my throat. I just nod, feeling slightly dizzy for a moment.

"And McVet."

"And McVet?" he asks curiously, leaning forward on the counter. "There's a McVet?"

"There is," I agree. Well there is now that I've finally called him back. I'm still not sure if that was a good idea or not. I wish it wasn't so crowded in here tonight. Then Joe could listen to me instead of wandering away to fill other orders. As it is, he gives me another sympathetic smile and pours me a third shot before turning away to get some guy a beer.

I also wish Cristina would get here already because my mind is starting to drift, and that is definitely never a good thing. It always drifts straight back to Derek. He's got this bizarre control over my thoughts, especially all my dirty thoughts. Like right now, I'm thinking about this excellent thing he did with his tongue at prom. That was new. (I seriously hope he didn't learn it from Addison.) But Derek has always commandeered all my dirty thoughts. I never seem to manage any about Finn. Which could be a problem, since I'm apparently seeing him tomorrow night. Or the fact that I'm upset about that could just be yet another sign that Derek's right and I'm a whore. I'm not sure which it is. What I really need is an objective third party to help me figure it out. Oh perfect…Cristina's here. Except I'm not supposed to be bothering her with my boy problems right now. Nope, I'm not going to say a word.

"I finally called Finn," I say as she sits down next to me. And that's why you don't down three shots in five minutes when the only food you've had all day was a single slice of cold pizza. Your lips get loose and all kinds of things start to slip out.

"Seriously? I thought you'd been ignoring him." Well yes Cristina. That's why I said that I finally called him. She needs to pay better attention to my story here.

"Well yeah," I say. "I was. But then I got stuck in the elevator with Derek today." I sigh heavily and lean forward, waving Joe back for more alcohol.

"I knew this had to do with McPrick," she says proudly. She turns to look at me, a very obvious smirk on her face. I just down more tequila. "What'd you do now Mer?" Me? Why does it have to be me? It could very easily be Derek who did something.

"We," I begin pointedly, emphasizing the word. "We had sex." Her eyebrows shoot straight up and she nearly spits out her drink.

Crap. This is what I meant about alcohol and spilling secrets.

Cristina is just looking at me incredulously. "In the elevator?" She shakes her head. "Mer, wow. Seriously. You just set a new record with that one."

"Not in the elevator," I snap. "At prom. In an exam room." I don't know why I'm acting as if that makes it any better. Well, I suppose it is slightly better then an elevator. But it's still bad. I can tell because Cristina's eyebrows haven't lowered a single centimeter. "We didn't mean to," I offer hopefully. "It just happened."

"Right. Accidental sex. Yeah, I've heard that's a real common problem." Something tells me she's not buying my explanation. It could be the sarcasm that her voice is just dripping with that's clueing me in. Or maybe it's the fact that she's actually set down her drink and is rolling her eyes at me.

"I know…it was stupid," I moan, letting my head fall down into my hands. She doesn't say anything, and after a moment, I look back up. I think I might be glaring at her. Oh well, secret's out. No use pretending to be fine with everything now. "Cristina this is bad," I say. "Not just kind of bad. But really, seriously bad. I'm freaking out here!" I slam my shot glass down on the counter, shaking my head as I speak.

"Alright," she says at last. I can't believe it. She's actually nodding, all traces of sarcasm gone. "Give me the whole sordid story. I'm being supportive." Aw Cristina. This is why she's my person. I would seriously hug her right now if I didn't know that that would be likely to end with her elbowing me in the ribs.

And so I start to tell her. Everything. Finn and Derek and the prom. Doc dying and all of the arguing. Derek looking at me. I can't leave that part out because seriously, what type of person forgets to mention eye sex? Of course, my whole story is punctuated with frequent glasses of tequila. By the time I get to what happened today in the elevator and then the lobby, I'm pretty sure I'm not completely coherent anymore.

"So Shepherd gives you some sex.." she begins, but I quickly interrupt her.

"Not just sex Cristina. It was really, really good…seriously good sex. Amazing sex," I say. I think I'm actually shaking my finger at her. Yep, I'm definitely drunk right now. Tomorrow morning is not going to be fun. I really wish I could manage to stop talking though, because I have this sinking suspicion that I'm about to start describing everything to her. And I mean everything. "Cristina, seriously…I mean Derek's always been good. But at prom, well he had me up on…"

"Meredith," interrupts Cristina immediately. "I do not want details. I do not need to know just what you and Shepherd think up to do to each other."

"Fine." My mouth listens to her but not to my own brain? That's not fair, but it's not actually that surprising either. She is Cristina after all. I have been building a very impressive pyramid out of my emptied shot glasses, but as I go to put the top glass in place, my hand slips. Or maybe I completely miss the top row and just plow my hand through the middle of the pyramid. I'm not sure. Either way, I wince as the whole thing topples over. "Fine," I grumble again, glaring at the messy countertop. Cristina's just smirking at me. I don't know why she gets to be less drunk then I am. It's not fair.

"So basically, now you're freaking out, and you're going to go running back to McVet so you won't have to be lonely while you try to ignore McDreamy?"

Wow. She just summed up all of what I spent the past hour explaining in a single sentence. And she got it right. I nod my head in agreement. Except no…I'm not running back to Finn. That sounds horrible. I'm simply ready to enjoy his plans. I try to shake my head, but the room is pretty blurry by now, and I'm not sure if I'm actually shaking my head or still just nodding it in agreement.

"Not running Cristina. Enjoying." She just frowns at me. I don't think she's getting my point. "He has plans," I try again.

"He didn't care that you ignored him for a week and ditched him at the prom?" I bite my lip, trying to remember how our conversation went.

"Not really. I told him about Izzie, work, the heart, the Chief, Izzie, stuff," I say, listing things off on my fingers as I speak. "He understood. He's understanding." I frown and shake my head because Cristina still doesn't seem convinced. "Derek's not understanding," I explain earnestly. "He called me a whore. Finn's nice."

"He's too nice," says Cristina at once.

"No he's not…" I say. I think that came out kind of slurred. I frown again, trying to focus. Derek used to be nice. At least, before he decided I was a whore and that Doc should get shot. Poor Doc…I miss him. I wonder if Finn still has the body…or if Derek took it. I should find that out. Why is Cristina looking at me like that?

"What body?" she asks. Oh crap. Not only are my thoughts rambling but they're now spilling randomly out of my mouth. I need to step away from the alcohol.

"Nothing…my dog," I stammer. "Finn's a nice amount of nice," I add, as I finally remember what we were talking about. Cristina actually snorts at that.

"Nobody's that nice Mer," she says. "It's freakish." I just shrug. "Since when do you like happy people?" she asks incredulously.

"Hey I like happy, and nice. Nice is good for me," I say defensively. "Maybe it's just what I need."

"Right, and transferring from surgery to obstetrics would be just what I need," she says, shaking her head. Damn. She was supposed to be my objective third party. And when I say objective party, I mean a party that completely agrees with my decision to call Finn. I'm starting to feel pretty nervous about tomorrow night's dinner plans with him. "Seriously Mer," continues Cristina. "Are you forgetting what happened the last time you tried nice?"

Oh no…

She just…I don't believe it. She is actually alluding to the George incident. She is bringing up what was arguably the worst sexual experience of my life now? While I'm too drunk to form anything resembling a coherent sentence?

"Person," I state angrily. "You're supposed to be…how could you…you say you're my friend," I stammer.

"You're supposed to be my person. That is not good person behavior!" Cristina shrugs. She doesn't even say anything. She just shrugs and sits there looking incredibly smug. "Cristina!" I insist, hoping that she'll take it back. (Wishful thinking, I know. Cristina doesn't take things back.)

"It's true," she says at last. "I'm not saying you should keep screwing McMarried, but you don't do nice, Meredith." I hate that. I can do nice. I'll show her. And Derek. He probably doesn't think I want nice either.

And I don't.

I mean… Crap. I do. I want nice. I definitely want nice.

"Shut up," I mumble dejectedly as I stretch my arm out towards Joe. I need another shot. And then maybe another one.

I have a feeling tomorrow's going to be a very long day.

Derek

I sneak glances at Addison on the ride home. They're quick, furtive glances that avoid the possibility of eye contact. I'm pretty sure all of my stealth is for nothing though because every time I look at her, her eyes are trained on her lap. She's playing with her wedding ring, twisting it nervously around on her finger. The way she's staring at it, her fingers lingering sadly along the diamond's edge, should probably make me feel like a first-class asshole. Addison's my wife afterall, and she's staring at a ring she used to be ecstatic over without even the slightest hint of a smile on her face. That should make me feel miserable. Only, I don't feel any different then normal. The way I see it, that pretty much means one of two things. Either miserable, guilt-ridden bastard has become such a constant state of mind for me over the past week that I can no longer register slight changes in its intensity, or I've simply stopped caring about everything that I've spent the last eleven years of my life working for. (I'm kinda hoping it's the first option, but honestly I don't really like either choice.)

Either way, I don't come out looking too great. It almost makes me want to talk about what's happening to the two of us. Usually it's Addie who's pushing for us to talk, but tonight she's being resolutely silent. "Addie…" I try as I follow her into the trailer. "What's wrong?" She stops dead in her tracks and turns around, raising an eyebrow as she looks at me.

"Nothing Derek," she says flatly. "Nothing's different, so why would anything be wrong?" Well technically, everything's different. But I can't point that out without swinging the conversation straight towards Meredith. And talking about Meredith with Addison? That takes a hell of a lot of energy. Even before I slept with Mer again, those conversations were nearly impossible to get through. I don't want to think about what it'd be like now, trying to explain prom, or even just what she saw in the lobby. So I simply sigh and nod my head. If Addison doesn't want to talk tonight…I'm certainly not going to force it.

She pivots around and marches straight into the kitchen. I'm not sure exactly what she is doing in there, but she keeps slamming the cabinets, opening drawers and banging things down on the counter. I try to ignore the noise, but by the time I've changed into a pair of sweatpants, it still hasn't died down. "What are you doing?" I ask, glaring at the open cabinets as I stumble into the kitchen.

"Dinner," says Addison flatly. She looks so incredibly out of place, standing in the tiny kitchen in her designer suit and ridiculously tall heels, holding up a half of a bagel in each hand. I almost smile at the sight of her like that, but the smile fades before it reaches my lips because my mind conjures up a new image. Well, not new exactly. It's an old image, a memory of Meredith sitting cross-legged on the counter, laughing as she hoarded an entire pot of coffee for herself. She never looked out of place in my kitchen. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because she's so small. She just fit perfectly into the tiny space. I don't know… Maybe it's simply because she's Meredith. I sigh and look back at Addison, trying not to remember that Meredith is probably with Finn right now.

"Dinner…" I echo quietly. The sudden mention of food reminds me that I haven't eaten since right before my four o'clock surgery. I eye the bagel she's holding hungrily, and am about to head over to the fridge, when Addison turns to study me.

"You hungry?" she asks. I give a slight nod, frowning at her confusedly. "Well sit," she snaps as she turns back towards the cabinets. Addison rarely cooks, even when she's in a good mood. The way she's been acting tonight doesn't come close to resembling a good mood. However, I sit down at the table, watching as she hoists herself up to reach the top shelf of one of the narrow cabinets. "There. Enjoy your dinner." I just blink as she slaps a bottle of scotch down on the tabletop, closely followed by a mug. A mug. She didn't even bother grabbing an actual glass.

Cute Addison, very cute.

I sigh, shaking my head as I pick up the mug. It's a deep burgundy color, with a chip on the handle exposing the white porcelain surface beneath. As I rotate the mug, I realize that she didn't simply choose it at random. It's an old anniversary gift from several years ago, one that I didn't think had made the move to Seattle. At the time, Addison had given it to me because she knew it would get me to simultaneously cringe and smile at its cheesiness. Now, I just cringe as I rotate the mug some more, revealing the fancy gold script that proclaims "Husband of the Year!" Well I'm glad to see my wife grasps the concept of irony.

Addison doesn't even wait for my reaction. By the time I look back up, she's already headed over to the far end of the trailer. I shrug and uncap the bottle, pouring a stream of alcohol into the mug. I alternate between staring into the dark hollow of the mug and taking long, bitter swallows, until finally the glass is drained dry. The silence from the car ride has returned, only now it feels heavy and thicker. "I'm sorry," I blurt out before I even realize I'm speaking. Addison shuffles back towards the kitchen. She's half dressed now, all loose red hair and pale skin beneath her black slip.

"What?" she asks softly, her hands on her hips. Her tone startles me. I was expecting more of the same sharp bitter Addie who'd served me scotch for dinner. But she's just standing there, leaning her head against the doorway, looking exhausted. She looks exactly how I feel.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, and her mouth opens slightly as she stares at me.

"For…" she prompts. Her voice sounds hesitant, her fingers going once again to play nervously with her ring. I sigh and look down at the table, shaking my head. I'm not sure what exactly I'm sorry for. I know things are going wrong all over the place, but they're going wrong so close to me, that I can't even begin to make out where wrong turns into right. I need a way to step back and look at things, to gain perspective. So that I can try and figure out what I should fix and what I should apologize for, and what I should just accept. The only thing is, I don't know a way to step back from my own life. Addison's still watching me expectantly though, so I shrug and say, "for the lobby." That at least I know was obviously inappropriate.

Apparently Addison was hoping for a different apology though because her expression starts to harden as soon as the words leave my lips. She straightens up, shaking her head as she glares at me.

"Seriously Derek," she shouts. "That's seriously all you're sorry for? Seriously!"

I blink and look up in astonishment. She sounds suddenly so much like Meredith that I find myself fighting the urge to just grab her and kiss her. I take a shaky breath, pinching the bridge of my nose, as I look away from Addison. I don't need to add screwing my wife while thinking of Meredith to the list of things I've done wrong this week.

"And you know what Derek?" she continues, her voice rising and turning bitter. "That's not even true. You've never been remotely sorry for anything that has to do with Meredith!" I risk a glance in her direction, but she's already turned and walked away, shoes smacking hard against the floor as she makes her way towards the bed.

"Addison…" I say placatingly. I can't think of anything to say besides her name, because I don't know how to deny what she said. My mind is racing, trying to come up with a reply. However, the only regret I'm coming up with that's associated with Meredith is not telling Meredith about Addison. My only regret is hurting her. I don't think Addison would be happy to hear that, but how am I supposed to regret someone who makes me feel alive? All of those clichés written on cards in the drugstores? Somehow, Meredith makes all of them true. I don't know how to not want her.

But Addison's still speaking. Well, she's still yelling actually. "What I want to know though Derek," she shouts across the trailer. "What I really want to know is…if you'll touch her like that in the middle of the freaking lobby, then what the hell have you been doing when nobody else is around?"

I look up and find myself staring straight into Addison's eyes. She's trembling visibly, but her gaze doesn't waver. She's crossed back over to lean against the table, her hair falling in her face as she looks down at me.

Something tells me this is one of those rare, ideal moments.

As in, this would be the ideal moment to finally be honest, to confess to prom or at the very least to still loving Meredith. To maybe let the word divorce roll off my tongue. Addison's bracing herself for it, I can see it in her eyes. But what I can also see are the silent tears that are slipping down her cheeks, one long, glistening trail winding down from each eye. She just looks so shaken. The longer we stare at each other, the more the moment slips away.

Until finally, I can't do it. I can't break her when she's looking at me like that. And so instead, I shake my head and lie. "Nothing," I say quietly. "Nothing…" She nods slowly, and that fragile, shaken look vanishes from her eyes. It's replaced with something that I think might be relief or possibly resignation.

"Nothing," she echoes. She's still eyeing me somewhat warily as she speaks. "Nothing's going on?"

"Nothing." The word rings false before it even leaves my tongue, but the moment is already gone. That means it's time to pretend again. We both smile at each other, empty smiles that don't quite make it to our eyes. Smiles that try to paint everything okay again, and pretend our argument has just been solved.

Addison nods one more time, and she seems to pull away, folding into herself. "Goodnight," she whispers, before turning abruptly and shuffling towards the bed. After a moment, she turns the light out, and the darkness seeps forward, shadowing the kitchen. I get up and toss the empty mug into the sink, but leave the bottle sitting there on the table. I can hear Addison twisting about in the bed, tugging on the blankets and struggling to get comfortable. However, as I walk towards her, her movements still. Her breathing quickly turns soft and measured. I lean against the bed, squinting to make out her face in the shadows. Her eyes are closed just a little too tightly.

"Addison," I say gently, reaching out and resting my fingers against her arm. She doesn't move at all. I know that she's pretending, but I let the accusation die unspoken on my lips. I turn from Addison, and let the words fade away to join everything else I should have said tonight, but didn't.

I can't lay down next to her. Not now, while we're both still awake. To lie there and pretend everything is fine while we both pretend to sleep…somehow, tonight that would be stretching the charade too far. So instead, I walk away from the bed and let myself outside. I sink down onto the porch steps, tilting my head back to take in the blanket of stars against the night sky. They're beautiful, but like everything else, they fail to occupy my thoughts for long. Everything always turns to Meredith, and she drifts back now into my mind. I can imagine her sprawled on her back in the grass, eyes wide as she stares at the sky. She loves the stars, and has no trouble picking out constellations that I can't even begin to see. She belongs out here.

The air is cool and clean, and I inhale it deeply as I think of her.

At least out here, all the lies have room to breathe.