Author's Notes: You guys have no clue how much I value your reviews! Thank you so, so much for reading and for encouraging this story. I am thrilled to be able to share it here and know that there are fellow crazy Addek lovers who read it. I truly, truly appreciate it! Happy weekend and Happy November!

Chapter III

On the twentieth missed call, she considers blocking the number but figures it could be something important, doesn't call back though.

Suddenly the light of her cellphone's screen causes her to squint her eyes. There comes a time of every day, lately, when she gets too light sensitive, sound sensitive. She flips the phone closed and proceeds to sign her name. Surrendered, they let go of the preemie and she didn't see him at all.

Dr. Addison Shepherd M.D.

In

07:02hrs.

Out

21:06hrs.

It's almost embarrassing that she always scans for his name on the atending's section of the daily record book. Every. Single. Day. He's usually too early, which means he's not sleeping well.

Dr. Derek C Shepherd M.D.

In

05:43hrs.

Out

- not yet, but it doesn't make any difference because it's not like they're meeting later or at all. Also, apparently he doesn't leave the hospital for lunch.

She wonders if he has lunch at all. He does look slim. Slimmer, because he always was, not slim but fit. It makes her want to ask around if they know if he works out. Meredith must know. He stopped lifting, no gym. He hykes now, she assumes.

They're both working through lunch though, something else in common.

The vibration of her phone startles her, she glances at the caller ID and sighs in annoyance.

Susan.

She waits until it goes to voicemail. Susan's missed calls badge adds to 21.

A text. Susan, of course.

"Addie, please call me back."

If it were serious she would have mentioned it by now.

Her mother's assistant has always been a person she appreciates and cares for, they're close and she knows how to lay delicate information to Bizzy. Susan has rescued Addison and her brother from their mother's judgement countless times before.

An expert on crisis management.

Works great under pressure.

A problem solver.

She's a gem.

Unfortunately, while she could use talking to someone close, she's not in the mood to give out explanations on her current situation. She texted back in the morning anyway, let her know that she wasn't in New York and that she was fine.

It's late and unlike her, but she goes back to wondering about Derek's sleeping schedule and routine as she starts her car.

...

...

"We officially know you're not.", George O'Malley holds the Jane Doe file they successfully snuck out of lab. A blood test for pregnancy. It's still early enough for them to pass unnoticed.

After weeks of nausea, Meredith was under the shared suspicion that things were possibly going to be even more complicated. George, well, he has been extra attentive, as have been the rest of their friends. First they thought it was because of her and Derek's breakup, then her mother's arrival, then Christina's crash.

It's day 21 since it all started and regardless of her disposal to let it all just go, the drowsiness won't leave her. They all headed earlier to the hospital to figure it out before the morning briefing. Yesterday and today.

"Great, I'm just permanently affected then.", she blurts.

Izzie Stevens, Christina Yang and Alex Karev are going through the lab results over and over. Internship takes such a physical toll on young doctors, even though it's not something they'd admit, any sort of distraction helps as a booster.

"It's not complicated to read, stop being nosy.", ignoring their tease and complaints at his seriousness, George takes it from them and looks around the closed curtain of the furthest corner at the E.R. to make sure they are still alone. He heads to plan B then, "here, at least it'll make you feel better.", he offers comfort in the form of a metoclopramide shot. It takes no genius to know it works and they all have no intention of losing any more time.

She closes her eyes, ready for the slight pinch, but opens them at the sound of the curtain being abruptly slid open.

"What in the world?", Dr. Bailey stands before them.

"Ugh. Out, people." Dr. Yang immediately calls as they start to dissipate, "I'm sorry, but at least it's nothing serious.", she murmurs to Meredith while walking out.

"Exactly. Thank you.", Bailey exhales to the others as they leave.

"Grey, seriously? What happened now? I have been looking for all of you, I am no tutor.", George is quickly retrieving everything on her back.

"She's not feeling well.", he justifies.

"I'm fine. I'm fine.", she speaks over him and sighs at her boss, "we were just trying to get rid of a minor bug I have. I'm sorry. We're sorry."

They intent to walk past her but Miranda is fast to withdraw the file George was holding on his back, she flaps it open. Her eyes drift to both interns, she takes a deep breath in order not to show the annoyance that she gets every time her students keep mixing their personal lives with medicine.

"Dr. Bailey, I was paged.", Addison bursts in but the tension stops her. "Am I interrupting? You can look for me later, or-" she looks over her colleague's shoulder assuming this has to do with what she was reached for and takes no time to put the pieces together. Meredith's blush and stiffness, O'Malley's obvious desperation to be dismissed and Bailey's attempt to keep her from reading. "Was this some kind of joke?", she offendedly glances up, "Not that it'd surprise me at this point,"

"-Off! The kids.", Bailey turns around, stands between the surgeon and her students. "Dr. Grey, Dr. O'Malley, back to work.", she says with her back to them and they obligingly nod. All the while pleading Addison to let it go as much as she can speak without words.

"Dr. Shepherd, I expect you to not let this get to you."

Addison raises her palm exposing lack of interest, she changes the subject, "I hope you have something for me, I got paged. I have very few cases, I'm not supposed to be here at all."

"They brought in a pregnant woman in labor, Dr. Smith was delivering other baby, I paged you but she came right after.", she explains shaking her head at the recklessness of timing, not quite past Addison's eyes that seem to be making a titanic effort not to water. "Look, I-"

"Save it.", the surgeon turns around rolling her eyes at her buzzing phone.

Susan. 28 missed calls.

...

...

Derek walks into Chief Webber's office taken aback by the sudden command.

"You paged me.", he says when Richard only stares at him. He chooses to seat in sight of the solemnity.

After oppressive silence, he speaks. "Take your wife to lunch. Out. I don't know."

"Excuse me?", Derek furrows his brow, insulted at the suggestion. "Richard, I work for you. That's about all you can expect from me. The rest is my business."

"Great, so what was it when you came in here all desperate asking me for a job?"

"That's not fair."

"Exactly. Hey! Sit back, kid." Richards points at him when he fidgets to leave.

"I don't agree with this. I'm not doing what you say."

"Fine. Then you're fired."

"You don't mean that."

"No, I don't.", they look at each other. Respect taking over and preventing an outrage. Richard takes advantage, "Is it really so hard, Derek? Get along," he continues, grateful he's not being interrupted, "I found you crying when she first operated solo.", he says matter-of-factly. "At least end things decently. You owe it to yourself."

Derek hoarsely contradicts him, stating how she disloyal and he's the one forced to be civil, it goes beyond his logic.

"Haven't you ever hurt her at all? Be the bigger person. Man up."

The mutual strain vanishes when Derek, absent minded, nods.

"I want her to stay, I asked her.", at Derek's frightened eyes, he quickly adds, "She said no. And then, she said she would think about it. I'm not threatening you. But you have to face this. You can't avoid everything, there's not enough hospitals in america for you to be skipping your problems."

"I'll-uh, look for her. That's all you get."

...

...

It took a visit to the neonatal wing, a minor interchange of courtesies and 'somewhere with a view', for her to agree to talk to him. He attributes her serenity to the fact that she might finally be fed up and consequently with her guard down to nag him. It should worry him but alternately it works in use of his willingness to clear his mind.

Then it is all erased when she shows up ten minutes after him, dressed in black. Eager and then somehow furious. He can't manage to concentrate on moving on. She confronts him, pushing down his efforts to see ahead; she doesn't permit for them to swim.

There's this question, though, he wants to be honest about it.

"Is there something that you still like about me? Because if there is, I need to know. Now.", she's leaning on a viewfinder, her forearm resting on it. Challenging him with words and posture.

He steps close to her face, studies her. Her hand on her hip, she steadies. Cold weather makes her skin look velvet soft, too white. After years of turning casual talks into nonverbal/non-physical communication, he'd learnt that her upper lip always curled up ever so slightly when she talked to him, the exact way his features would soften, the language their bodies had developed to make distinction, the now unconscious effect they had on each other.

"What are you doing?", he's brought back to the person he's meticulously observing, almost unaware that she is present.

"I'm searching for the something I still like.", he lies to buy himself more time. "I won't say it though.", her eyes shimmer in pale emerald color. The sun is covered in fog, as if everything was a soft black and white, then her lips, hair and eyes would give a hint of vibrance to the picture.

"Why?", if only she were to give him space in silence to reach into their core.

"I'm not here to please you. I'm exhausted. You're exhausting. I was...exhausted.", he stays on surface, reminded of the reason why he might have turnt to distance after all. Five or ten steps past her on the railing. She joins him.

"So you recognize you were avoiding me?", she questions as if she's able to read his mind.

"I didn't know I was doing it", he considers this and tries further, "Why are you fighting for this?"

"Why are you fighting it?"

"Unbelievable. Not one conversation without competing."

"You're right."

"Excuse me? Too late to humor me."

"Is it?", she makes him drop the contest with another real question by letting him ponder the rest of his thoughts instead of blocking them. He's appreciative of the abrupt silence.

Passers by stroll in different directions, very few of them, barely crossing each other. He wishes for distraction. The emptiness of the spacious dock in tune with the weather, in contrast with his confused wife standing before him just as clueless as him.

"I-I don't know, Addie. I'm sorry.", it's his opportunity to dig deeper into the lack of annoyance he's experiencing, it might lead to the next page, "I care. That, I know...What I don't know is if I want," he rephrases. "It's...a lot of work. You are a lot of work. You need reassurance so much. It's just… it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough for you.", when it didn't come out as it felt, he realized it sounded derogatory, like blaming her for a habit he once helped her build. Being absorbing.

"Nothing is ever enough for you either.", surely she wasn't going to permit it.

"You were.", he surprises her.

"Past tense."

"More like a stand by. You don't trust me."

"You may be right."

"Why, though?"

She shrugs. Almost half of her life shared with him and the fear of losing the safety he meant kept blinding her. At their best, it didn't show up to haunt her; in times of doubt, it's no use to wonder where that lead.

"What do you want from me, Addison?"

"You asked me to come here, I should be asking you that."

"I want you to answer."

"Me? Okay, it's simple, really. What I want is for us to just...I wish we could get past this and you know… do the rest at our pace."

"If that were as easy as it sounds," he pauses for long. "Fine.", he murmurs.

"Really?"

He affirms and leans his back on the railing, presses his temples with middle finger and thumb.

"Your migraine."

She takes her chances and places her warm left hand on his nape, he feels the scarcely cold contrast of her rings. When he doesn't wince, she gently massages her way up the back of his skull. Whether they are moving forward or not, staying in Seattle or going back home, doesn't seem important because she's standing close to him and he's not pushing back.

"Go home. Sleep it off-trailer! Sorry.", her cheeks flush, she folds her arms. "Plus, you're on call anyway this weekend. They'll page if they need you."

He can't help but smirk at the correction and turns to her. If only he could pretend nothing ever happened. He pushes down the thought when he realizes he's staring at her parted lips. He could trace their form in the dark, feel them by mere thought. He's suddenly grateful to sensory memory for being able to retain their impression. Otherwise he'd lean closer now and it would have to mean something.

He looks down at the untouched brown bag between them. He chose the spot, she chose what they were having which remains a mystery to him.

"Weren't we having lunch?", he releases the tension.

"Are you hungry?"

He shakes his head.

"Well, go."

She calls his name before he walks. He looks back at her. Relent, is a good term to describe their countenance, but there's a lot more behind it. Truce. Is it truce? The possibility of waving a white flag.

"Thanks for...um… talking to me" they're both looking ahead, their gaze focused on the city, the water, the clouds, whatever that is not each other. "I… didn't know you felt that way.", when he doesn't leave or acts defensive, she goes on, "You were always enough, Derek. I guess. I don't- I didn't consider. I mean, before the practices and… everything. I know that now." she observes his profile, neat and sharp. She's still unable to differ if he is this attractive or that's just how she sees him. "You are enough. I really am-"

"-Sorry.", he completes. "Yeah, you've said that too much already, Addie."

He's about to go past her, his moves are slow. He's leaving, not walking away. Right next to her, his left shoulder merely brushing hers, he turns to emit a sort of goodbye and she risks their closeness by placing a faint kiss near his ear. They exchange surrendered smiles and he's gone.

...

...

The light on Addison's door flashes green for her to push it open and simultaneously her stomach tenses, she dials the familiar number before stepping in.

Voicemail. She must be in clinical session.

This is Dr. Blake, please leave a message after the tone and I will call you back. I appreciate your patience.

She presses the red button to cancel, ignoring Susan's 36 missed calls, turning around and choosing to follow her gut.

...

...

"You could've texted.", with only one eye opened, Derek tries to focus on his wife past his front door.

"You don't reply. I stopped texting you like a year ago.", he opens the door, steps back to let her in. She doesn't attempt to move but hands him a cup of coffee. "I added milk. Lots of it. Well, the bartender, but you know."

He takes it, blinking his eyes. "Are you, do you want to come in?"

"She's been here.", she meant to enounce that with a question mark but ended up stating it.

"You slept with Mark in my bed."

"You live in a trailer."

"You knew."

"I hadn't really pictured it."

"I own the land."

Then this means he plans to stay or maybe it was just impulse. She could tease him about it saying she's supposed to be the impulsive one, but she doesn't want to get an insulting comeback.

He's thinking of offering something, host for her. But he doesn't have much plus she brought her own boiling hot coffee. Holding it with both hands so she has something to cling to.

While they both wander internally he grabs his jacket and walks out, sits on the edge of his porch.

Of what's supposed to be the porch.

He's enjoys the burning sensation each swallow brings. He's more awake thanks to it. It's a gesture they've always had toward each other. Coffee. His with a shot of espresso, evaporated milk; hers black, double shot. Although, he's less complicated, he'll have it almost any other way.

Addison tends to think in plural, they both have since they met. Until they weren't smart enough to put their careers appart. They had never needed to do so.

"I know I was...indifferent.", he takes part, accepting her presence and for once wanting to change how he feels about it. "I was absent. Indifferent toward you."

"Derek.", the way she says his name as a full sentence, most of the time he's able to listen what her tone implies. This time it's a sort of plead not to argue, she needed an excuse to see him after their late not-quite-lunch, he fakes not to read into it.

"I guess, I never thought…I don't know.", that she would betray him in such way he means. He's in need to get past the constantly avoided confrontation. Meredith grounded his actions, she was what he most felt accountable for. The guilt for how he allowed her to think the very best of him, all the while he pretended nothing fatal was going to happen because of a single conversation that he refused to have. It's desperation what's dragging him to act.

"I do. I, I understand."

"Why then?"

"I missed you, I went crazy, I've already said it-"

"Stop putting the blame on me."

"I am taking responsibility but there was a reason, Derek, I didn't plan-"

"Forget it. I really don't wanna hear that he was just there.", he shakes his head at how redundant they remain. "How dare he?."

They mourn together for a moment.

The crisp sound of the wind and far away crickets sets a solemn mood. Everything feels too spacious in Seattle. Perhaps it's the woods right now, but earlier as well, this entire past month. At least it is the opposite of the rush where they crashed. Then again, it's something they could be using to their benefit. Together. She misses him, curses herself for repeating it.

"It wasn't about him."

"What?", he empties his cup.

"It really wasn't about him. I know that. He knew it then. I, he was-"

"Just there."

"No, no. I mean yes, but, I was ranting. I kept asking-", her voice trails off.

"Finish the line, Addison."

"I asked him if there was something wrong with me.", it feels humiliating to have to admit it, she understands her previous level of anxiety but is not able to justify it anymore, "I asked that over and over those days...I'm not proud of that. He said what I, guess, I needed to hear… and then feel."

"You never asked me."

"Oh yeah, in our monosyllabic conversations, I should have-", they're not in the position to stand comebacks and keep on moving, though, she retracts. "I know."

"It wasn't about him.", is all she manages to affirm after they hush, back where they started.

He nods, for some reason he believes it, "And now we're here."

They share an extended silence, it's free of tension, which on both parts is a whole new level of grief. Acceptance.

"But with Meredith, was it.?..That was about her. Still is," she shrugs to minimize her words, in hope that he didn't match them. She's regretful for having spoken without having ordered her thoughts first.

"Unlike you and Mark, I wasn't planning on meeting her, or everything that happened after."

She nods. It's not what a resolution, it's him hurting. At least they're talking, she pushes further, aware of her own pain.

"Would this be different if you hadn't met her?"

"Addison.", there he goes now, using her name as a full sentence. Their intimate language goes beyond their dominance.

"I need to know, I'm sorry.", her voice is hoarse.

"You took too long."

"I was… I looked for you. I... expected you to come back."

"I live here."

"I-I'm trying to do the right thing-"

"Those morals tho.", he raises his eyebrows in disapproval but then looks down, slowly shaking his head. His gesture for implying he's done for the day.

She lets it pass, grateful for the peace of heart and mind she feels when they inch closer.

"Should I let us go?", her words are paused and undemanding.

He slightly lifts his shoulders.

"Derek,"

He locks his eyes with hers to let her know he's planning to answer but needs to take time. He thinks of Meredith, her insistence on being left to move on; Richard, intruding; the urgency he's fighting to ask her if she's cold because her nose is pink at the top; he's still against adjusting to everybody else's timing. Their eyes blink at the same accord. It softens him more than he would prefer. He shakes his head in response and his lips curve close to a smile.

Her heart skips a beat, her knee twitches toward his. It's the cold of her bones, or her unbearable desire to close the distance between them. She stills it with her hand, crosses her right leg over it, and nods returning his almost smile. Whether he meant 'not yet', or 'not at all' doesn't seem to matter, she doesn't ask.

"I hate Seattle," she breaks the quietude in search to shush her inner despair.

"I know."

They both chuckle. He reaches for her thigh but pulls back before she notices, he grabs her coffee cup instead and swallows the last of it, lukewarm. She'd never finish lukewarm coffee.

...

...

"Dear?", Dr. Myrtle Blake crosses the entrance of her husband's office. It's late, he's going through a file.

"Yes, Myr?", he's wholly directed to his reading, it takes a while before he glances up. He's quick to study her rigid form, staring at him with crossed arms and evident deep slow breaths. Her eyeglasses over her carefully blown head. She hasn't moved from the door frame. "Are you okay?"

"Dr. Shepherd's case."

He regards her disapprovingly, "I told you it was going to end up bad, Myrtle. You are too attached, it's very unlike you. What's so deep about it? It's a marital conflict, either they end up together or they don't. Didn't you say she filed for divorce just yesterday?"

"That is the problem.", she walks up to his desk and rests her back on the bookshelf behind it. He's looking at her over his glasses. "Do you remember Susan from Connecticut?, your patient."

"You mean our patient?.", he's fast to reply. Dr. Stephen Blake, he doesn't waste time. Not ever. His expressive dark eyebrows that contrast his silver hair narrow in confusion, "You may have gone too far back in time. But exactly, that is the perfect example. Those are real problems."

"She was just here, Stephen.", her earnestness makes him drop his chaste tone.

"Susan?"

She nods

"What about her?"

"Addison is Adrian Montgomery and Beatrice Forbes' daughter."

Oh.

...

...

Author's Notes: I beg you to review, thank you for coming back! Next chapters are there waiting to be polished, I swear!