Chapter Seven
He liked her like this.
When he'd gotten out of the shower, she was curled in a lax fetal position, fully dressed including her insane shoes, clinging to a pillow that completely shielded her face from the early morning sunlight, which in turn tangled and wove itself into her hair, exposing shoots of otherwise hidden copper and auburn amongst the rich merlot strands.
He watched for a moment, musing at how love makes you able to watch a person do absolutely nothing and still find yourself completely, utterly enthralled.
After finishing the drying job on his body—not easy with one arm considerably tight from the recent injury—he tossed the towel into the makeshift hamper, pulled on a pair of sweats that he didn't remember packing, and made his way to her side of the bed.
From that angle, her eyes were visible. Scrunched up against the pillow, they were sweetly sealed shut, looking heavy and accented by dark smudges below them. Mascara and tears, he realized on closer inspection. He reached to brush it away with his thumb, but he only got one good brush in before she wrinkled her nose in annoyance without opening her eyes and weakly swatted at his hand with a distracted moan.
He smiled, and moved to the bottom of the bed and placed a hand on the heel of her shoe, easing it off slowly. He did so while watching her carefully, afraid in this primitive state of sleep she might react instinctually in defense of her beloved shoes and kick him for touching the leather without gloves. Fortunately, she was out cold again, her lips parted ever so slightly, her old "tell" for when she was deeply sleeping.
He got both malformed contraptions from her feet without incident, and thought for a few dangerous moments about the stockings he knew came to a screeching halt around her mid-thigh, but decided against it. He didn't trust himself in this depleted state of exhaustion.
Instead, he slid carefully into bed behind her, laying his head on the neighboring pillow and positioning his hurt arm to the greatest comfort. He didn't touch her, just watched her breathe and sleep, respecting her space. At first. When he himself began to drift, instinct kicked in and he moved closer, running a light hand down her side, resting it on her hip. Moments later he realized what he did and went to retract his hand, but she had already murmured another sleepy sigh, rolled over, and fitted herself against him in one smooth, easy motion.
He closed his eyes, relishing in the earliest memories of their relationship when this was how they would fall asleep. They hadn't so much as laid in this position in years, but apparently the fugue of sleep had dulled Addison's memory of being mad at him, of the years of neglect, of the denial, and of the unanswered divorce question. It gave him a strange kind of hope. Deep down at the core, when all of her defenses were literally asleep, Addison still seemed to love him.
He smiled, and pressed his lips to her forehead, which was a movement requiring little effort because her face was inches from his. As soon as he pulled away, her eyes fluttered open, and he saw her smile warmly, with a vulnerability and softness that only lasted a second. Then, her face registered where she was, whom she was with, and what she was doing. She didn't move away or even frown, but under his hand he felt her stiffen.
"It's okay, Addie." He murmured, drawing her a little closer. She blinked, waking up more completely, and stiffening even more.
"No, Derek." She protested weakly. He tightened his grip.
"Don't. Don't shut me out like this. Please." He shook his head, and stopped her from further protests by blotting her words out with his mouth. She was hesitant to respond, at first, but it didn't take long before she returned the gesture, their mouths pressing and kneading heatedly in a familiar fashion. He let this last a good while, relishing in the revived intimacy, but soon found himself winding his hand into her hair and locking her head against his, deepening the kiss. The parts of her that had previously been pliable and soft turned rigid again, and she pulled away.
"No, Derek." She rasped, pressing her lips together.
"Why, Addison?" he asked in frustration, pulling away slightly, just enough to rest his forehead against hers and stare into her eyes.
"Because, it's more than this. We can't just screw the pain away."
"I'm not trying to." He assured her soulfully, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger when she tried to look away. "I love you, Addison. It just so happens that I want you very much, too."
She expelled a sigh and closed her eyes.
"I know it's been…a while. But it neither of those things stopped being true. Not really." He said, a whisper from her mouth.
Her chin quivered, but she kept her eyes shut.
"The only thing left to question," He began carefully, hopefully, "Is whether or not you still love me."
She opened her eyes with a start, as if to stop him from speaking.
"I do…I do…I do…" she repeated, kissing him hard between each utterance. "God, Derek, I do and I did and I will."
For the second time that day, a hot wave of relief washed over him.
"Then that's it. We'll…work this out." He decided quietly. She gasped a tiny sob, and he ran his palm feather-like down her cheek. "We're Derek and Addie. We're still Derek and Addie."
Tears fell, and she sobbed softly again, but she smiled and nodded. At first it was a gentle motion of her head, but then it became emphatic, and she quickly slid her hands up the sides of his face and brought his mouth against hers.
He allowed the control to be hers losing himself in the passion of her gestures, but when she tugged at him meaningfully on his sides with her probing, exploring hands, an unspoken signal between them from years before, he shifted over her, pressing her into the bed, but broke the contact between their mouths.
"Are you sure?" he managed, surprised at his own self-control as he braced himself above her on his sore arms. She blinked, her eyes cloudy and dark and her mouth reddened from the pressure of his, and stared at him for a long second.
"Yes."
It didn't have to be said aloud that her answer was meant in more ways than one.
"The Fray?"
"Check. Plain White Ts?"
"Yup. The Devics?"
"Check. The Postal Service?"
"Uh huh. How about Damien Rice?"
"Of course!"
"Just making sure, you never know with you kids these days."
"Please! I'm not the one with Hilary Duff, not-so-well disguised under a different name."
"How did you find out!"
"It's on your Top 25 playlist."
"Oh. Right. Well, you don't even try to hide your Eiffel 65."
"Can't say that "Blue" isn't an amazing song!"
"Please. Your only saving grace is the ample supply of The Beatles."
"What about Snow Patrol? I've got all of their stuff."
"They help, too. I just hate that television stole them."
"I know. Now everybody likes them."
"Ahem?"
Meredith and Sadie spun their heads quickly mid-laughter as they sat on Sadie's bed, and acknowledged the presence of Addison and Derek with nods.
"Oh, hello, Addison. Hi, Derek." Meredith greeted, tucking her iPod into her pocket.
"Hey, Meredith." Addison greeted easily, with a smile.
"Hi, Meredith." Derek also greeted, and they both entered the room.
"Hi Mom, Hi Dad." Sadie greeted, practically bouncing. She got up on her haunches on the bed to say happily, "Meredith and I were comparing our libraries, since she finally got her iPod fixed."
Addison stood in front her, adjusting her new pink top and smoothing it down over her jeans. She then tucked the girl's substantially longer hair behind her ear, and replied, "Ooh. Does she have any Coldplay?"
"Please, Mom, it was the first thing I asked!" Sadie said with a snort and a smile at Meredith.
"Well, then I suppose she's allowed to keep her medical degree." Addison decided, taking Sadie in an embrace and winking at Meredith, who feigned relief saying, "Gee, thanks."
"So, honey, are you ready to go?" Derek asked, though enjoying the women's interaction.
"Yeah…I guess." Sadie replied, thumbing her sweater and peering at Meredith.
"What do you mean, you guess?" Meredith asked incredulously. "You need to get back to New York and keep the East Coast up on the good music and movies. I'll hold down the fort out here."
A smile crept across Sadie's face.
"…okay. I will. I have been gone a whole three months. Paris Hilton might have made another single." She said with a grave shake of her head. The adults in the room laughed heartily.
"Okay, let's go." Derek resigned, picking Sadie up and situating her in her new wheelchair. "There we go."
"Daddy, would you let Mom push me?" She asked sweetly.
"Sure…why?" Derek asked with a raised brow.
"Well…you do it really slow. I know Dr. Burke just got done saying I should take it easy, but jeez, Dad, I'm not made of glass!" she said with an exasperated sigh. Derek blinked, bewildered, and Addison leaned to Meredith.
"It's going to be interesting when she's eighteen instead of eight." She muttered. "Here, I'll take over."
When they reached the elevators, Meredith bent down to Sadie's eye level.
"Good-bye, Sadie." She held out a hand, but Sadie wrapped her arms around her neck.
"Good-bye, Meredith." She said into her ear.
In that moment, Meredith's eyes stung with tears. When Sadie broke the embrace, she blinked back those tears to face Addison and Derek.
"Thank you, Dr. Grey." Addison said, taking her hand in a womanly grasp.
"Yes. Thank you…so much." Derek said, choked up slightly.
"It was a pleasure." Was all Meredith could think to say, because it was true.
The elevator arrived, and Addison proceeded to edge the wheelchair inside. Derek put his hand over the door to hold it for her, but turned to Meredith.
"About that…thing. Your story?" he said softly.
"Yeah?" she asked, curious as to why he brought it up after three months of not doing so.
He took a deep breath, trying to decide the right words. Finally, he managed,
"Life has a funny way of making up for the bad parts…by giving us a better last couple of chapters." He tilted his head to the side. "Eventually. You have to get that far. Sometimes, you have to take matters into your own hands."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Good to know."
She watched them go, and sighed heavily. She hoped…well, she hoped, in that moment, for a lot of things.
"It won't be as satisfying around here anymore, with him gone." Izzie observed from behind Meredith.
"Seriously? He was the only satisfaction you've been getting for the past few months?"
"No…but he sure as hell didn't hurt."
Meredith rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless."
"No, you are. You haven't gone to Joe's, or anywhere else, in weeks."
Meredith shrugged noncommittally.
"Well," Izzie persisted, "You have to come tonight. Now. You're off, aren't you?"
"Can't." Meredith called over her shoulder, walking away. "I've got a date. Sort of."
She hoped Izzie didn't follow her and bombard her with questions, and she didn't.
Meredith managed to make it all the way to the locker room undetected, and changed into her carefully chosen outfit, then taking even more care applying her make-up.
She muttered to herself occasionally, wondering what she thought she was doing, but Derek's words seemed to win out over the doubt.
When she emerged from the hospital almost a half hour later, her stomach was uneasy with an intense case of the butterflies, and her eyes were teary with nerves as she scanned the crowd out front on the walkway hurriedly.
Then, she saw him. Her date. Sorta.
He was nervous, too. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot, chewing his lip, and his hands were bunched in either of his khaki pockets. He had a dark brown tweed blazer on, very much the academic look, and his hair was damp from the moisture outside and curling at its short ends. He looked different, but somehow the same. He was older, of course, but his eyes were the same. That was how she recognized him.
"Hi, Dad."
"You may put your trays back into their unfolded position and resume use of electronic devices. We are now at six thousand feet and climbing. Welcome to Delta Air New York."
Addison fiddled with her mocha.
She ventured a glance as Sadie, absorbed in her iPod. She found herself watching Sadie more, these days, sometimes just to make sure she was still there. It had been so close...She quickly averted her eyes back to the whipped cream and syrupy swirls on her coffee.
New York. In a few hours, they would be home. Back on the same streets, in the same jobs, in the same house, in the same bed as…before. She hadn't said anything to Derek, but in the past week, she had grown increasingly more and more nervous.
Life in Seattle as Sadie recovered had been surreal, nearly dreamlike. They had each contributed some to the hospital, transferring their privileges temporarily from New York, but not very much. They focused almost all of their attention on Sadie's recovery, which progressed with amazing speed.
And maybe it was the isolation from their normal social activities, the lack of pressing medical work, or just the nice hotel room, but they had become the Derek and Addie of before, and better, in some ways.
They held hands in elevators.
He played with her hair when she fell asleep with her head on his chest.
She wore his shirts when she was hanging around in the hotel, and his socks when her feet got cold.
They finished each others' sentences.
He stared at her when he thought she wasn't looking.
She lightly traced circles with her fingernails on his back as he drifted to sleep after they made love.
They had kissed with shameless excess on the Space Needle, not even noticing the stares of disapproving—and jealous—onlookers.
He would let her have the extra blanket on the cooler nights.
She would let him snuggle particularly close on those nights, to share the heat.
They played stupid pranks on each other, like his "accidental" spraying of her face with whipped cream and her revenge—painting his toenails red when he fell asleep.
He helped her get the knots in her hair out of the places she couldn't reach.
She massaged his shoulders whenever he was tense—even if he didn't ask.
And every night, just after the lights would go out and sleep would begin to pull its cooling veil over them, they never fell asleep without some kind of contact with the other, whether it be a full embrace or simply linked hands.
But that was Seattle.
Now they were going back to New York, where just the act of spending the night in the same bed had one time been remarkable.
She couldn't deny she was nervous—or outright frightened—that the contentedness and comfort of Seattle wouldn't translate into New York.
She chewed her lip, and drummed her fingers. She stared down at them, freshly buffed and polished. She focused all of her mind on them. She watched them continue, seemingly independent of her body, to rap and thump on the plastic tray until a bigger, masculine hand steadied them.
She looked slowly at Derek, who had been watching her. And, as a result of their rekindled and improved unspoken understanding of each other, he knew.
She only watched his eyes, feeling her face flush with shame for doubting.
For a long moment, they simply locked eyes.
Then, he smiled his heartbreaking half-smile, titled his head.
"Oh, Addie."
Her face stretched into a grin.
"Of Addie and Derek."
A/N: This chapter was much fun. I got to indulge in some Derek/Addison fluff, which is just great fun for me. And I guess this is done. I'm really sad to see it end, but it's just gotta.
Just because it's over, though, doesn't mean you shouldn't tell me what you thought! I'm always up to hear your opinions: good, bad, and ugly.
I owe an enormous, deeply appreciative thanks to everyone who read this, and also those who gave me criticism, praise, and just general feedback. It made me ever so indescribably happy. 3
Also, a thanks to those who stuck with this fic, even though you weren't necessarily "Addek" fans. I really appreciate that, and I'm sorry I didn't cater to your respective "ships." Maybe next time? ;)
xo Bleu