August 16, 2010

He knows they're just simple, perfectly square specks in a variety of colors, but when stacked up and piled together they make beautiful, breathtaking – albeit digital – pictures. However, he feels he could be looking at the world's greatest masterpieces, splayed out on across his laptop screen in pixels for him to see, and still they would not be able to steal an iota of attention from the little black words he's staring at.

They happen to be in a confirmation email sent by his favorite airline, verifying that he is indeed taking several connection flights to Sudan in less than a month's time.

Sighing as he downsizes the page once again (because he's being paid to take care of patients right now, after all) and pulls himself out of the chair, popping joints and straining tendons as he stretches, he finds himself facing a very large, very fierce, and very pissed off Richard Webber.

"Richard," he greets with perhaps a little bit too much glee (if this is what it feels like to go to Sudan, maybe he should go more often. Then again, if Addie's hell bent on staying there, he might be going a lot more often) as his boss and former mentor glares. "What can I do f -"

"A leave of absence. A leave of absence, Derek? Seriously? Do you have any idea what's going on in my hospital right now? Obviously not, because you nearly gave me a heart attack. My star neurosurgeon taking a leave of absence?"

"The merger was months ago," Derek argues, folding his arms resolutely in front of his chest. He should have done this years ago and if he has to choose between his job and Addison again, his decision is already made. "And I thought Addie was your star."

"This hospital -"

"- Isn't my primary concern anymore. I'm sorry, Richard, but I will be taking time off in a month and probably more after that."

"Are you going back to New York?" Richard asks aggressively.

"Wait – what?"

"God dammit, Shepherd, after all the effort I expended to get you out here and now you're going to …"

"I'm not going to New York," Derek interrupts. "I'm going after Addie."

"After … Addie," Richard repeats slowly. "Well, I … I guess that's all right then. Just don't … don't screw it up again, because if you hurt her a third time …"

"I know," Derek interrupts with a grin. "Don't worry, Richard."

Addie,

You did have me worried there, as I remember you saying something about grenades. But I know you, Addison, and when I thought about it more, I told myself not to be surprised if you didn't, uh, get back to me right away. I ran, you avoided, Mark slept with whatever was nearest. That's how it was.

I swear I never wanted to make you the other woman, and really, you weren't. Talking to you made me realize I was making some wrong decisions, but whether I had been sending you letters or not, marrying Meredith would have never been the right decision for me. So please don't feel guilty, especially on my account.

I think you're right about Meredith. It's easier to see it now, alone in my trailer, bottle of scotch in hand, which is how I spend most of my nights these days. She was new and exciting and different, and, I have to admit, I always did love a challenge. I didn't know when I was chasing you that you would eventually give in, but I was determined because I could see you walking down the aisle toward me someday. Meredith was a challenge as well, I could never resist fixing things, playing hero. I became carried away and yes there were feelings, but not enough to last a lifetime.

I told Sam when you visited with Archer that Meredith wasn't a mid-life crisis, but now I'm not so sure. That wasn't all she was, because I did love her, but … when you compare it to what we had, and all the time we had … I just can't believe I was such an idiot.

I have no answer to why I couldn't forgive you in Seattle. It wasn't fair, because you did everything you could to save our marriage and I was so busy being angry and not forgiving you that I guess I didn't see it. If I could somehow change one thing, I think it would be that. All I can say is that I'm sorry. I don't know what the catalyst for the destruction of our marriage was, what originally caused me to become absent and our life together to disintegrate, but whatever it was we hit rock bottom – there's no where to go but up from there and we've made it to friends again.

We've been writing letters for almost a year now, did you know that? I want to see you. I would trade anything for just a glimpse of you over there in the sand, pushing sweaty hair out of your eyes as you save someone's baby. I can imagine it, but memories don't do you justice, Addie. And just so you know, I don't suddenly love you again. I've always loved you, and I won't break you again.

And I know you're not going to come back to me just because Meredith and I are over. I get that there are other guys out there – ones who have never hurt you and who could give you everything. But we're right for each other in a way that means we'll never truly fit with anyone else. I'm confused as well but I want to try us again. And even if you say no, even if you just want to be friends, I'll keep writing to you, Addie, because I can't lose you again.

Derek

P.S. My mother threatened to de-man me before I reminded her that if she does, there'll be no one to carry on the Shepherd name.

P.P.S. I love you

She steps down from the dirty doorway of the truck and down into the dust, which swirls around her ankles before being swept away by a tropical night breeze. Her shirt, which was once butter-yellow, is now mud brown and sticking to her back, but that minor details pales in comparison into what is in front of her eyes.

Once, she worried if there was even a tiny wrinkle in silk, if even one strawberry strand misbehaved. Now she's in a country with virtually no government, no laws, and no economy and she's kind of forgotten what a shower feels like and she's worn this shirt for five days now (not to mention these panties).

"What happened?" she shouts in Cailen's ear as he helps her down from the truck, and as she assesses the chaos, she wishes she hadn't ever left to spend a week and a half in another village, although her help was badly needed there. Now she doesn't know what happened but the people she's spent the last eleven months caring for are swarming around in complete panic.

She has other, personal reasons to be afraid but he would have said something, surely, if that had happened … she would know. He wouldn't withhold such information from her.

She trips over something that sends her sprawling into the sand, and as she quickly pushes her body back up so as not to get trampled, she discovers what she stumbled on: a human arm.

"What … happened?" she gasps to Cailen again because he still has a hold of her hand.

"Guerrilla fighters passing through, or so we think. They about to pass us by, but they saw all the malaria vaccines we just got in, and …" he doesn't need to finish the sentence as they run. "They didn't say where they were headed, but … there were a lot of them, Addison, all fully armed. They took food, medicine, fired a few shots, and left."

"When did they -"

"Less than an hour ago. It's good it was getting dark, or, well, they would have seen the truck."

"So?" she inquires as he stoops to pick up a frightened child. "There wasn't anything valuable on the truck."

"They harassed Eileen," he tells her softly, eyes reflecting the moonlight eerily. "They didn't end up doing anything because they were in hurry, but she was pretty freaked out." Addison shuts her eyes, picturing slender, tiny, blonde Eileen, who was one of the best trauma surgeons she'd ever met and who faced down grenades fearlessly but flinched at tiny spiders.

"Is she …?"

"She's okay," Cailen assures her. "But if they had found you …" he leaves the statement to hang in the tense air as shouts ring out among them and the few doctors they have (the camp has swelled with a couple hundred refugees over the last year) rush around, trying to instill calm and save the injured at the same time.

Her mouth is dry.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks as they weave through conflict.

"Where do you think?" he returns cryptically.

Her heart pounds. They reach a collapsed hut. He would have told her already. He was safe. He promised. "He didn't -"

And in the swirls of inky midnight, she hears the call, "Momma!"