April 11, 2010
It's funny, really. She's known for months, for longer even than other people's invitations have been out. But it still devastates her.
The delicate 'save the date', on paper the color of fresh cream and indented with flower patterns, is sent late, as she knows Derek and Meredith are getting married in less than a month. Derek's note, though, on a separate piece of paper tells her that even though he knew she couldn't come, he still felt like he should send it to her, even if it was a little late.
It shouldn't come as a surprise, but it does. It's so hard to let go, harder than she ever could have imagined.
Crying is not encouraged in the desert, as the moisture is required by the body for other more important functions, but common sense does not prevail over emotion in this case. They've been divorced for years, now, and he's been with Meredith for longer than he dated her before they got married. The raw, hard facts do little to ease the pain, however, so she pushes the invitation off the side of her cot and allows her body to mold itself to her sparse blankets as sobs shake her body.
She should've never emailed Derek in the first place, she realizes, because although she often pretends otherwise, she knows her strengths and weaknesses well and she knew that Derek was her one weakness, the one thing she'd never truly let go of. And now, because of a stupid mistake, Derek is entwined deep in her heart again with unbreakable tendrils comprised of eleven years and the subsequent memories.
No, her tear ducts are certainly not too proud today. And she would have been, if not content, resigned to sobbing hours away until she's needed if there hadn't been a knock on her tent flap followed a few seconds later by a narrow beam of light and a honey-gold head.
"Addison?"
She springs up, alarm staining blue-green eyes indigo as she eyes the intruder. The grenades tapered off in frequency and she hasn't heard one in three days now, but there's no escaping that Sudan is a war-riddled country and few things, if any, can be done without caution.
"Oh, sorry," a deep, smooth male voice says, sounding a bit embarrassed, and she recognizes Cailen a moment later, tan cheeks flushed rose because she's a tank top and a pair of embarrassing underwear with little cupcakes. "I didn't know you were … I just wondered …"
"It's okay," she assures him with a quick smile, seizing any distraction from her ex-husband and his impending nuptials. That this distraction is hot bordering on delicious is just a bonus. She grabs the low-rise khaki shorts she's been wearing for the past five days (clothes aren't dirty here until they've been worn for a week, yet another example of something water can't afford to be wasted on) and pulls them over her long legs quickly. "What's wrong? More refugees? I didn't -"
He laughs and flashes her another smile, and his teeth are blinding in the desert sun, whiter than even the pale grains underneath their feet. And for the first time in a long while, practically since she can remember, she feels something, something that causes her heart to contract just a bit faster.
"No, no refugees, nothing like that. I just … things have been crazy lately, and I wondered if you wanted to take a break. There's an oasis about a mile from here …" he trails off and manages to look unsure even though he's nearly as tall as Mark and about as muscular.
"Sure," she agrees, trying to keep her voice neutral. "I'd love to. I just – are you sure you want to get, you know, involved, not that you're trying to get involved, just, well, you know…"
"I do know," he chuckles. "Stop rambling, Addison."
Derek called her Addie.
Derek,
I guess I didn't really see myself staying here for longer either, considering I didn't really like it at first (I'm pretty sure I can't remember what a bath feels like, not to mention what chocolate tastes like) but it's just relaxing. Not in a vacation sort of way, I can't ever remember being more tired, but it's kind of like a vacation from society, I guess. None of that kind of stuff is important here; these people are just focused on surviving.
It's not the safest time here, I guess, but … I just see all these tiny, malnourished babies and I can't leave. The grenade thing makes me nervous, but it's calmed down a bit lately. When I get back, I guess we could go out, but Derek … you don't seem to get that it's too late for you to do all the things you never did. I know you're getting married and you're nervous and you want to tie up loose ends, but there times you don't get a second chance.
Callie finally wrote to me, I think she was afraid to tell me about her and Mark. And I was surprised, at first, but I really hope they can make it work. Callie can keep him in line, and he really cares for her, so it's a little weird, my best friend and my ex-mistress, but weirder things have happened. Make sure he doesn't hurt her, okay?
I'm glad we're talking through all this stuff Derek, and I'm glad we can be friends, but you can't go around saying stuff like that you 'need me.' You just can't, because you don't need me anymore, Derek, and I've been trying ever since the divorce not to need you.
That's why our marriage ended, because we both gave up on fixing it. We were too lazy, too successful, too complacent. And by the time we realized our relationship was in trouble – well, I realized it – we'd grown apart and I didn't know you anymore. My sleeping with Mark was just the last straw, you already had one foot out the door and I put one out there too, just so I wouldn't be pining over someone who didn't want me. I wish things had turned out differently, that we hadn't ended eleven years like that, but it allowed you to find Meredith and me to find someone … someday … and us to be friends. So it all worked out okay.
Please don't say things like you can still imagine us old and wrinkly. You have someone to grow old with, Derek, and despite my best efforts, I don't. If you're going to say stuff, stuff like the old Derek used to say, please don't say it to me. I care about you too, Der, of course I do, but we're not Addison-and-Derek anymore.
I'm being careful, don't worry. We haven't almost gotten blown up in a while, so that's good, plus I actually get to sleep.
Addie
P.S. It wouldn't do any good to reveal it now, Derek. We waited too long; we're just going to have to live with it.
It's time. He's doing this again. Hairspray holds every root in place, his tux is painfully uncomfortable, and he is doused in the unmanly scent of flowers but is spared the embarrassment because everything smells of roses and sweet peas and lilac, so he doesn't stand out.
The world moves in slow motion as he turns his head out over the faceless crowd, all in pale suits and pastel dresses, all smiling widely, proudly, as if he and his bride belong to everyone. He can't see Mark fidgeting behind him, but he can feel his best man's slight unrest as his eyes search the congregation for his girlfriend, Callie, who got tied up in a surgery. Owen, Alex, and Derek's favorite brother-in-law, Dave, flank him, across from Izzie, Lexie, and Cristina. The maid of honor is blonde, but she isn't looking at him.
He can't think who it is, but it doesn't bother him.
His mother is in the front row, looking as if all her dreams have come true, and occasionally glances over shoulder, clearly anticipating Meredith's entrance. His sisters, on the other hand, wear painfully polite but strained expressions, their various kids arranged around them.
She isn't there, though, and he can't figure it out. There's no flash of brilliant red, no strawberry for his eyes to linger on, no crystal blue-green eyes staring at him, empty but somehow full of expression, no dress that is unintentionally more beautiful than the bride's. Addison isn't here.
The thought continues to bother him as the wedding march starts up, notes rising from the organ behind him, saturating the church with promises of the future to come. The bride starts down the isle on the arm of Richard Webber, whose smile exudes pride and adoration in equal measures as he marches beside her at an even pace.
It all happens very fast after that. Richard is placing a slim hand in his, stepping back, allowing Derek and Meredith to face the priest. He glances at his bride, beautiful in what he suspects is Vera Wang, but there's something off. Derek doesn't realize what it is until his vows are said, he lifts the veil over perfectly carved lips, high cheekbones, and hair the color of fire, cinnamon, and pomegranate if their essences could somehow be combined.
Addison. He's marrying Addison.
And then he wakes up, breathing hard, still imagining that he can taste Chanel No. 5 on his tongue. His restless wake rouses Meredith, who blinks sleepily and smooths a few sweaty curls away from his forehead. "You okay?" she whispers and he nods and allows her to kiss him although his mind is miles away, wondering what this latest development means.
