October 22nd, 2010

Despite what his mother says, Derek ends up staying at her house for another two weeks and three days. For the first time in a long time, he isn't anyone's boss, or lover, or doctor, or savior, or disappointment, he's just someone's son. He catches his mother watching him carefully as she cooks his meals, collects his laundry, and sits with him quietly on the couch as he stares mindlessly out into space for days on end. She knows he's processing, and he appreciates that she knows him so well.

Living, albeit temporarily, with his mother, implicitly reminds him of another mother-son relationship: the one between his son and his son's mother. Does Addison push Christian's copper tipped black curls off his forehead the way Carolyn Shepherd does to him, even though he has passed forty years of age? Does Addison watch her son fondly as she cooks him macaroni and cheese, asking the occasional unobtrusive question when he's been quiet for too many minutes? Does Christian leave outer space pajamas and monkey socks on the floor the way he abandons old t-shirts and sweatpants?

After the death of his father, Carolyn was the single guiding force in Derek's life besides his own resolve and determination to prove himself. He thinks, all things considered, that she did a fabulous job - not just with him, but with all five of her children. This means that Addison at least has the potential to do just as well with Christian, to raise him to be a good man and a kind human being. His life proves that she does not need him to raise her son, because even though growing up with a father, specifically Christopher Shepherd as his father, could have only been beneficial, it was not necessary.

What bothers him most is a far more selfish aspect of the many-faceted situation: While Addison may not need him, he wants her to, and it's clear she doesn't. The first four years of his son's life have produced a bright and brilliant little boy who adores his mother and cares for animals and has an imagination beyond anything Derek can comprehend, and she did it all on her own. He wants to be that missing piece in their lives, the one part of the puzzle needed for completion. He's upset at Addison for keeping Christian a secret, but he's also upset because if the situation were reversed, he likely wouldn't have lasted 4 days without her, not to mention 4 years.

He mulls over this for several days, and Carolyn, seemingly sensing his inner distress, makes him a cheesecake. He's so upset that he doesn't only eat the last piece, he eats the entire thing. She raises her eyebrows but says nothing.

It finally comes to him when he's lying on his childhood bed, on the navy blue sailboat sheets, gazing up at the ceiling. His eyes fall to the framed silhouette of his high school graduation cap, and he's taken involuntarily back to that day, to the tears in Ma's rich brown eyes, to placing the cap jokingly on Amelia's beaming head, on Mark nearly knocking him down with excitement and taking shots in the back of the auditorium after the ceremony and then making out with one of Derek's ex-girlfriends. What is especially poignant about that day, however, is the missing face in the crowd; his eighteen-year-old self's longing for his father to see him graduate, to accomplish the first of many academic feats.

Behind the fluttering depths of his eyelids, his own young, hopeful face changes into Christian's; they are the same height, but his son's hair is lighter, barely tinged with a bit of his mother's cherry red, and he doesn't have the Shepherd nose, instead he has Addison's rather more elegant one. Even so, the whole scene, the contrast of the scarlet silk graduation robes with his son's clear ocean eyes, the excitement and hope and mini-McDreamy smile, the familiar longing in Christian's eyes as they watch each other, cements what Derek already knew deep down to be true. He may be pretty damn angry at Addison right now, and he might retain questions of what might have been had things gone differently even years later, but he's not going to get a second chance at this. He has the ability, the opportunity to give his son the one thing he always regretted not having, to be what he hadn't had but so desperately wanted.

He can be the father that was taken from him. In the end, it isn't about his mistakes or Addison's mistakes or the incredible amount of times they have fucked up and fucked each other up. It's about his son and the future he can have, not the past he messed up and missed out on.

It takes him less than twenty minutes to gather his things, stuff them in a duffle, and book a flight back to Seattle that night. When he emerges from the depths of his house, tugging his suitcase and struggling with his jacket, he remembers that his mother knows nothing of his epiphanies of the last few hours. When he hurriedly opens his mouth, however, he notices (slightly guiltily) that she hardly looks surprised. She simply plucks the printed boarding pass from his hands, shakes her head at his poor time management, and leads the way out to her car. He's distant during the drive the airport, and his goodbyes are rather rushed, but he can see in her eyes that she understands. Her hand cups his face tenderly, briefly, and brushes his chin. "I love you, Derek," she says, and there is pride and knowing and goodbye in her eyes before she ducks back into the car and leaves him to his fate.

Upon catching a glimpse of Seattle illuminated by nightlife, Derek reflects that he hardly remembers entering the airport, not to mention the obstacle course of security and boarding the actual plane. He's on autopilot as he locates his car in the long-term parking garage and begins the not-so-short drive from SeaTac to the trailer. Raindrops glitter on his windshield in the low city lighting, like stars guiding him home. It's nearly dawn and he's not sure whether Addison is at the Archfield or the hospital or with a friend, but he figures disrupting her son's precious slumber is not the right way to begin working through their situation. He isn't exactly eager to return to his trailer, as he's sure his night will be plagued with thoughts of Addison and Christian and various scenarios and how things could go terribly wrong or maybe if he's lucky, so perfectly, completely, right. As he unlocks the trailer and shoulders his way inside, he figures he might as well at least try to rest for the next few hours and seek out Addison at a more respectable time.

He isn't sure when she was here, but her presence is somehow evident before he sees the letter lying on the tiny kitchen table, though it might have been days or weeks since she had last graced the lonely trailer with her elegant presence. He feels his heart speed up as he scans the letter, disbelieving, desperate, blood rushing to his brain to try and decipher the note before him.

Addison is gone. Addison is back in Africa. And Christian is undoubtedly with her.

Dear Addie,

I guess it was silly of me to assume you would just wait around in Seattle, but life seems to have stood still for me during the past few weeks. Of course, everywhere else it goes on, and I should have known it would for you as well. I shouldn't have expected you to be just waiting around in Seattle, but somehow whenever I thought about going back, in my mind you and Christian were still there, waiting for me. Silly, I know.

Christian.

I still … I have a son, Addie, we have a son. It hasn't sunk in yet, to be honest. He's mine though, and I want to know him. I need to know him. I haven't forgiven you, not yet, but I need to know my son, more than anything. I spent three weeks at my mother's, thinking, and that's all I've come up with. I don't know what will happen between us. I don't know when I will forgive you, or if you'll forgive me. But I need to be in my son's life. I was shocked and angry and I felt betrayed all over again. I won't lie to you, Addison. I hate what you did to me. I hate it and I understand it all at the same time, and I know why you did it but that doesn't make it right.

I may not be making much sense, and I'm sorry. I want you here, beside me, so we can talk about this, and so I can argue with my son about bathtime and find out what pajamas he likes to wear to bed and which bedtime stories are his favorite. I want that more than you could ever know, because you know all those things about him, things that I never had the chance to know.

Sometimes I hate you, Addison. But I love you as well.

We are so fucked up.

Come back from Sudan, Addie. I don't care whether we're in Seattle or New York or L.A. We could be in Kentucky for all I care. Or, if you aren't ready to come back here, I'll come there. I'm sure with all that's going on over there, there are no shortage of head injuries. But either way, I need to be with you. Both of you. Tell me where to be, and I'll be there. I want this. I want us. I haven't handled this in the best way, I know that. Neither of us have. But let's fix this. I finally know who I want.

I want him.

Love,

Derek

P.S. Please let him know that I love him.

It's past midnight before she finds out she even has a letter. In some lights, it's better that way, because being a world-renowned surgeon with more than forty years of life under her belt while at the same time terrified of a single piece of paper is, to be honest, rather pathetic, not to mention embarrassing. She's faced down war and grenades and she's scared of some words her ex-husband and father of her only child scrawled onto a piece of paper. It's downright silly, but that doesn't make it any less true.

She hadn't been sure that Derek would even write, and certainly hadn't been expecting it this soon. She'd been sure there would be months of silence and cold hatred felt from halfway around the world. She'd thought she'd be Satan again in his eyes, and maybe she is, a little bit, but Derek has for once taken the high road.

She doesn't kid herself that it's in any way for her.

No, it's for the boy tangled in a dirty sheet in the hut tent 100 yards behind her, the boy with inky curls and eyes the color of blazing blue fire. It's for her son, who far more deserves it, but she'll take what she can get.

What was she supposed to do? She would have been the villain no matter what action she took. Could she truly be blamed for wanting to avoid the cutthroat Seattle gossip and poisonous glares thrown every which way from colleagues she barely knew? This time around, she'd told herself, she'd leave Derek and Seattle well enough alone, with the woman he'd made clear was all he wanted. Yet she is Satan again all the same.

Her tears hit the dry midnight sand, the only water around for miles, or so it seems. She's cried so much over Derek Shepherd it's a wonder her tear ducts are still functional. Everything she does in regards to her ex-husband turns out wrong. Can this situation, her with his son, him with his bitterness, really turn out well? She doesn't see how, but she has little choice. Derek won't abandon his son to a fatherless existence, which is part of why she'd feared telling him for so long.

She's scared of Derek hating her more than he already does, because no matter how much she pretends otherwise, no matter who she dates or sleeps with or loves, his hatred still hurts.

It's a quiet night, ink spilled across a dotted starry sky, desert stretched out like a canvas before her. She relishes the tranquility and silence, eager to be alone with her thoughts and her tears, to hide away her secret shame from the villagers she cares for but cannot reveal herself to. Her problems seem petty in this war-torn country, ostensibly all of her own doing and ridiculous in the face of death and mutilation and suffering. At night, while all others sleep tucked into the cool desert night, she can be alone with her shame and her damage. While others sleep easy, she must contemplate her sins.

Or so she thinks, until the world explodes into brightness and fire and noise behind her.