A/N: It took me a ridiculous amount of time to update... so sue me! I hope you enjoy it!
Addison heard Derek pull into the clearing in front of the trailer. She heard him kill the engine of the Range Rover. And then she heard the silence that followed. It wasn't necessary to walk to the window of the trailer to know that Derek was sitting in the vehicle alone with his thoughts.
In her mind's eye, she could see him, his eyes closed, his head back against the headrest and his breath coming in unsteady bursts. Addison's breath had stopped. She didn't know exactly what was running through Derek's mind, but her mind was assuming the worst. Was he thinking about how much of a mistake having a baby was? Was he thinking about how much of a mistake staying with her was? Was he wishing Meredith was with him? Was he trying to figure out how to sign the divorce papers? Was he trying to accept Addison… as an obligation?
Addison's mind filled with every possible scenario of what Derek could be thinking. And it literally felt like ages before she finally heard him slam the door to the Range Rover.
Though she was still holding her breath and anxiously waiting for him to appear, Addison had not forgotten her vow of indifference. She could not give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain, of seeing her anger. She was stronger than that; at least that was what she wanted him to believe.
Derek stepped into the trailer, and Addison let out the breath she had been holding since she'd heard him arrive. Her feeling of relief was short-lived. He couldn't look at her. His back was turned, in a not-so-subtle effort to avoid her. From over the rim of her glasses, she watched him walk around the trailer tending to Doc and other things.
She would not say anything. She would not grovel. She would not burst into tears and tell him how much she loved him. She would not yell. Derek didn't deserve any of that. She knew it was his turn, and yet it still took everything out of her to remain silent.
Finally, Derek leaned against the doorjamb. His eyes were empty and his expression unreadable. She lifted her attention from the magazine and watched him. Just as she was preparing to open the conversation, Derek finally spoke in a near whisper.
"You weren't there. During my surgery, you weren't in the gallery."
Though Derek's voice was soft and almost afraid, it didn't stop a surge of anger from rising in Addison's chest at his words.
Who was he to accuse her of absence? Who was he to expect her to do anything? Where did he get that idea in his head? He had lost the right to make accusations when he had spent so long ignoring her.
His statement made her want to scream. It made her want to fight. She wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of him. She wanted to tell him exactly how much of an ass he had been. She wanted to push him away. She wanted to set him straight.
But she was indifferent. She raised an angry eyebrow and shrugged, "I wasn't aware watching your surgeries was my obligation."
"You always watch my surgeries," His voice was still as quiet as before, and it still felt like an accusation.
"Apparently I don't," Addison tried to put as much acid behind her words as she could manage before realizing that hurting him with sarcasm wasn't keeping with her vow of indifference.
Derek inhaled deeply before speaking again. "Well, excuse me for expecting some support from my wife. Obviously that's too much to ask," His tone was biting and sliced into her like a knife.
Addison didn't wince when his words hit her. She didn't change her expression at all. Even though it took everything out of her, her eyes remained steady and focused. She couldn't let Derek see her pain, her weaknesses. She needed a response to prove that to him. She couldn't snap and hurt him; that would negate everything she was trying to prove.
So, Addison, the indifferent, shrugged in response.
Derek closed his eyes, frustration was written across his face. Addison knew this was a sign of her indifference taking a toll on him, and she knew she should be feeling a surge of pride that she was able to make him feel as lost and hurt as he had made her. She couldn't muster any feelings of satisfaction in Derek's turmoil.
It wasn't fair at all. Turnabout was supposed to be fair play. Revenge was supposed to be sweet. But as she sat there watching him, Addison began to doubt the old clichés. Making Derek feel as horrible as she had been feeling for years didn't make her feel vindicated. It didn't make her happy. It didn't make her even.
It made her hurt. It made her sad. It made her want to cry just so he would hold her. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to absolve him of his sins. She just wanted to be Addison and Derek, again.
Addison was absolutely revolted with herself that she felt that way. She knew she wasn't the one who should be groveling or hurting. Yes, she knew that. But she was. Her indifference was supposed to be hurting Derek, and it was only succeeding in hurting her.
If she hadn't been so used to pain, Addison would have abandoned her indifference then and there, but pain was a constant in her life. She had learned to be stronger than the pain. She had learned to ignore it. It didn't control her life; she was Addison and way too strong for it.
Derek finally broke the silence, "I just—I just—I expected you to be there is all."
"And when was the last time you bothered to watch me work?" The words had flown from Addison's mouth before she even had a chance to realize what she was saying or that she was breaking her vow of indifference.
He gaped at her, and Addison could tell he was trying to formulate a response. It was as if an internal battle was raging inside him. And, when he responded after a few moments of silence, Addison wasn't sure whether he had won or lost.
"Fine," He punctuated the word and took a definite pause while he observed her face before turning away from her.
She watched as he sat on the edge of the bed, his back turned to her, and she knew he wanted her to call out to him. He wanted her to break down and put him back in control. She sighed, softly, wishing Derek would remove his clothes quicker because then she wouldn't have to watch him. And watching him almost killed her; it made the fact that she wasn't in his arms all the more real.
When Derek had stripped to his boxers and pulled a Columbia University T-shirt over his head, he turned and faced Addison. His mouth was open slightly, like he'd started to say something but suddenly couldn't find the words. Addison took this as a cue to remove her glasses and set her magazine aside, providing her a chance to avert her eyes from him. While she was doing this, Derek crawled across to his side of the bed.
Addison terminated the lights before rolling on her side away from him. It took Derek significantly longer to lie down. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew he was watching her. He didn't have to say or do anything for Addison to know that he was miffed by her turned back. Even in some of the toughest times of their marriage, they had always slept together. Not necessarily in each other's arms, but they had always slept turned into each other only inches apart.
He lay down, mimicking her actions by turning his front away from her. Addison could feel the distance, and she had to bite her lower lip to stop a sob from escaping. She knew Derek was feeling her indifference just as she had originally wanted him to. Addison had believed that Derek deserved it. That he deserved to be hurting, too.
But Addison knew what it was like to have someone treat her with indifference, and she knew exactly how painful it was. The fact that he cared meant something, but it didn't make her feel any better. She didn't want him to hurt. She wanted him happy. She wanted them both happy.
Addison's mind continued to race. Her heart continued to hurt. And the space between her and Derek seemed insurmountable. But exhaustion finally overruled any of her troubles, and Addison slowly drifted to sleep.