Addison and Alex:
He did a double take when he saw her at the news stand, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her less than ten feet away. Even then, months after she'd moved to Los Angeles, she had the power to steal his breath, her beauty causing his lips to part as he hovered in the doorway.
Her hair was shorter now, pulled back into a ponytail and falling just passed her shoulders. Her usual red tresses were lighter than they'd been when she'd lived in Seattle, sprinkled with subtle blond highlights that softened her features. She stood tall, wearing a deep blue wrap dress that hugged her every curve, her feet adorned with pumps that accentuated the slender muscles in her calves. The leather toe of her shoe was tapping impatiently against the ground, almost as if she had somewhere she needed to be, despite the fact that she was idly flipping through a magazine as she leaned against the wall.
He took a hesitant step toward her, and then another and another, and before long, he was right beside her, standing so close that he could smell the familiar scent of her Chanel fragrance. The simple whiff of it had his thoughts whirling back in time, his mind conjuring up a vivid image of her pressed against the wall of the on-call room, her long legs wrapping around his waist as he placed hungry kisses against her fiery skin.
The memory made him want to reach out and touch her, to run his fingertips over the creamy skin of her exposed neck, but he restrained himself, forcing his hands to remain tucked into the pockets of his slacks. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves as he rocked back and forth on his heels, and then he cleared his throat, watching her casually lift her eyes from the magazine spread.
Almost instantly, her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him. She squared her shoulders, standing just a little straighter as she dropped the magazine by her side. "Alex."
At first, he merely lingered in his spot, unsure how to respond to the staggered expression covering her face, but the tentative smile spreading across her lips caused his confidence to grow, and he took another step forward, wrapping his arms around her waist. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that their meeting should probably feel awkward, that it probably shouldn't feel so right to pull her toward his chest like they were the dearest of friends, but the feeling of her arms slipping around his neck caused such thoughts to vanish like magic. "Hey, I thought that was you."
They both lingered in the embrace a moment longer than necessary, their body's hesitating to break apart after being separated for so long. "What're you doing in Chicago?" she finally asked, pulling away from him to study his face.
He glanced around, his eyes darting across the bustling airport before resettling on hers. "I'm going to visit my mom in Iowa. Chicago's just my layover."
He couldn't help but notice that she'd changed, that there were subtle differences in her that he might not have even noticed had he not been so keen on finding them. Her skin was darker than it had been, probably from the California sun, and it glowed as her cheeks puckered from the force of her smile. She looked less tired, more relaxed as she stood before him with a renewed sense of confidence. Clearly, LA had been a good move for her. "What about you?"
She pursed her lips. "I'm here for work. I had to give a lecture on Candida sepsis in neonates at Northwestern Med."
He nodded, unable to overlook how sexy she appeared when she so easily slipped into her role as a Neonatal surgeon. He was about to ask her if she wanted to grab a drink when his eye caught sight of the magazine poised between her fingertips. He frowned, his chest humming as he brought his eyes up to meet hers. "You're getting married?"
For a moment, she looked completely caught off guard, but then she followed his gaze back down to her hand, her eyes settling on the copy of Modern Bride magazine. "Oh, um . . ." She stuttered, her cheeks reddening as he continued to stare at her expectantly. "Uh, no. No, I'm just looking at this. You know, just because . . . um, well . . ."
She was completely flustered, and he didn't think he'd ever seen anything so strikingly charming. "Why do chicks do that? Get so obsessed with weddings, I mean?" He shook his head, grabbing the magazine from her hands and blindly flipping through the pages. "Izzie does that sometimes. She'll go to the grocery for a pint of ice cream and come home with Rocky Road and a bridal magazine."
Her breath caught in her throat, a frown forming on her lips as his words sank in. "Oh. So, so you're with Stevens now?"
He couldn't help but feel slightly satisfied at the look of jealousy that crossed her face. "No, we're just friends. We live together." He handed the magazine back to her, shoving his hands into his pockets. "We both rent rooms in Meredith's house."
She smiled, her lips curling upward as she hesitantly met his eyes. "Oh."
There was a tense moment of silence as they stared at one another dumbly, neither knowing exactly what to say. Then he shifted, reaching behind him to grab a small bag of peanut M&Ms before glancing at the magazine in her hand. "Do you want that?"
Her cheeks flushed once again. "No, that's okay."
He smirked at her embarrassment, swiping the magazine from her fingers and placing it onto the checkout counter before she could protest. He paid for the items, pocketing the M&Ms as he handed her the new copy of Modern Bride. "Just think of it as something to remember me by."
She smiled despite the look of affliction that sprang to her eyes. "Thanks."
"United Airlines flight 7390, service to Cedar Rapids, now boarding at gate C17."
The announcement booming over the intercom caused him to frown. "Um, that's me." He pressed his lips together, fiddling with the loose change in the depths of his pocket as he anxiously met her gaze. For a moment, he thought about just leaving, about turning around and ending their meeting with as little awkwardness as possible given the situation. He couldn't walk out, though; not without telling her what he'd been wishing he could say ever since she'd left for California. "Listen, Addison, about what happened in Seattle. Between us, I mean . . ."
She shook her head, placing her hand against his arm. "We don't have to do this, Alex. It's all in the past. We should just leave it there."
"No, I need to say this," he argued, glancing around them to ensure their privacy. "I was an ass. No one deserves to be treated the way I treated you, and I'm sorry." He sighed, licking his lips before he continued. "There aren't a whole lot of things that I regret doing in my life, but that? That I regret."
She nodded. "It's okay, Alex. Really."
The quickness with which she forgave him only served to intensify his guilt. "You scared the shit out of me," he admitted. "I mean, I . . . well, I think I was falling in love with you. And I wasn't very good at that, you know?"
He laughed nervously when her lips parted in surprise. His heartbeat was increasing, thudding nervously against his chest. "I guess I should go. I don't want to miss my flight." He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against the side of her cheek. "It was great to see you, Addison."
She stood frozen, unable to move as she watched him exit the store. To say his words caught her off guard would be the understatement of the year. With heavy feet, she moved toward the doorway, her heart humming with nervous expectancy. "Alex, wait. . ."
XXXXX
Years later, she would walk through the door of her newly purchased condo in Seattle, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion after a twenty hour shift. She wouldn't even realize that it's Valentines Day, not until she noticed the low lighting of the candles flickering down the hallway, the crimson path of rose petals leading her toward the bedroom that they now shared.
He would be waiting for her when she crossed the threshold, his back to the door as he gazed out at the city's lights. She would feel tears springing to her eyes as she studied their room, her heartbeat quickening in knowing anticipation as her eyes swept across the area bathed in warm candle light. "Alex?"
He would turn around, his smile nervous as he moved toward her. "Happy Valentine's Day, Ad."
His lips would feel soft against hers, tasting faintly of the glass of red wine he consumed to calm his nerves moments before she arrived. When they eventually break apart, she would allow her eyes to shift toward the bed once again, settling on the magazine that would be lying against the cotton duvet. "What is that?"
He would smirk, suspecting that she knew exactly what it was despite her whispered question. He would pick it up, handing it to her as his cheeks dimpled against his smile. "I thought you might be able to use this now."
She would glance down at the cover, her throat swelling with emotion as she remembered the day he bought it for her. It would feel like a lifetime ago, that seemingly nondescript afternoon in the airport that had changed her life forever.
When her eyes shift from the magazine to him, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from gasping, seeing his questioning expression as he balanced below her on one knee. He would be holding a velvet box, the top opened to reveal a sparkling diamond that would cause her breath to hitch. He would smile, his eyes not leaving hers despite the obvious nervousness floating beneath the surface. "Addison Montgomery, will you be my wife?"
And she would nod, tears clinging to her eyelashes as their lips collide.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Izzie and Mark
The bell over the door chimed as he thrust it open, announcing his arrival at the newly opened smoothie shop on the outskirts of Discovery Park.
He immediately noticed her; it was hard not to. She was dressed in black running shorts and a fitted, grey University of Washington t-shirt, the back of her shirt darkened as a thin line of sweat ran down the center of her spine. She was outfitted in athletic shoes, some off-brand he didn't recognize, and her calf muscles sprang forth every time she rocked onto her toes.
He walked across the shop, moving to stand directly behind her in the line that wrapped around to the back wall. He could hear the faint sounds of music streaming from her earphones, which she had left strung around her neck instead of in her ears. Her lips were unconsciously moving to the words of song of a trendy pop artist, her head bouncing rhythmically as her eyes scanned the menu largely sprawled onto the wall behind the counter.
They both moved forward as the line progressed, his eyes glued to her every move as they edged toward the counter. She smiled brightly at the pimply-faced kid when she finally got to the front, causing him to blush and mumble a stuttered greeting. "Hey, can I get the Blastoff Berry?" she asked, switching off the Ipod that was strapped to her arm. "A large, please."
He smirked when she said it, knowing that he wouldn't be able to hold his tongue any longer. "Seriously? You're ordering off the kid's menu?"
She turned around at his question, her face surprised when she found him standing behind her. "Dr. Sloan," she faltered, the smile disappearing from her face. It was promptly replaced with a scowl, followed by a timely roll of her eyes. "I happen to like sherbet, and that's the only smoothie that has it."
He grinned as she turned her back to him. "Oh, okay, Stevens." He glanced down at her body once again, appreciatively noting the way her athletic shorts framed her long, shapely legs. "I didn't know you were a runner."
She shrugged, watching the kid behind the counter in an effort to avoid his face. "I'm not, really. Well, not yet." She grabbed the smoothie as he placed his order, shifting to the checkout line. "I'm training right now. I've decided that I want to run in the 5K next spring."
He whistled appreciatively. "That's quite ambitious of you," he commented. "Let me know if you need help getting in shape."
She glanced back at him, her face curious. "You run?"
A grin spread across his lips. "Of course. Can't you tell?" he asked teasingly, grabbing the smoothie from the envious looking kid. "But I was actually thinking of a few other ways that I could help whip you into shape."
She groaned at his predictable response, shaking her head as she pulled her credit card from the pocket of her running shorts. "You're such an ass."
Her sharply delivered insult didn't surprise him. In fact, he'd always found her impertinent nature to be particularly attractive, perhaps even rivaling her breathtaking physical beauty. He chuckled, moving to stop her as she placed her credit card on the counter. "No, I'll get it."
His kind gesture was rewarded with a scowl. "I can get it myself."
When they walked across the threshold of the shop, entering the warm autumn afternoon, he glanced at her, moving toward the wrought iron tables outside of the building. "Well, I'll guess I'll see you around, Stevens."
She nodded, looking behind her as she moved toward the sidewalk. The image caused her to pause: he was crouched to the cement, stroking the russet-colored fur coat of a chocolate Labrador. It surprised her, mostly because she had never envisioned him to be a dog person; she had never envisioned him to be anything but a woman-person. She furrowed her brows, taking a step toward them. "Is that you're dog?"
He nodded, shielding his eyes from the sun as he glanced up. "Yeah," he answered, untying the bright red leash from a chair. "This is Delia."
She smirked, a quiet giggle escaping her lips. "Delia? You named your dog Delia?"
He couldn't help but think how strikingly beautiful she look as her cheeks flushed with laughter. He watched her crouch down to scratch beneath the dog's ears, laughing when the pup rewarded her with a suitable lick to the hand. "Aww, you're such a cutie," she mewed.
He was still frowning from her earlier comment, his lips turned downward as he watched her playfully rustle the fur on the top of the dog's head. "What's wrong with the name Delia?"
She shrugged, still smiling when she met his eyes. "No, nothing. It's a nice name. It's just . . . you know, kind of girly."
He frowned. "Well, Delia is a girl."
"I know, I know," she mumbled, laughing at his offense. "I would just picture you naming her, like . . . I don't know. Rogue, or something."
Her laughter seemed to be contagious, affecting him instantaneously. His lips curled upward as he watched the Labrador lick the side of her cheek, her wispy blond ponytail blowing in the soft breeze as a throaty laugh belted from her mouth. He smiled, thinking he could listen to that laugh all day. "So, um, we're heading over to the park if you want to come."
When she glanced up, her face was laced with surprise. It struck him with an instant bout of nervousness, a new feeling for him when it came to women, and he chewed on his lip, his eyes glancing across the street where kids were running across the open grass. "I mean, you don't have to. It was just an idea."
She shook her head, giving the dog a final pat before standing to her feet. "Well, it's just . . . I need to get home. It's my only day off this week, and I have a lot I need to do."
He nodded, trying to seem understanding despite the instant feeling of disappointment that left him ambushed. "Maybe another time, then."
She smiled. "Sure."
As she watched him lift the leash, urging the dog toward the sidewalk, she was surprised by her hesitancy in walking away. She thought perhaps she should leave; knowing what she did about him, she could only imagine the possibility of heartbreak if she chose to stay.
Somehow, though, that possibility didn't seem to be an important consequence because, as she watched him sprint across the street, the dog running ahead of him in sheer delight, she saw something that she had never noticed in him before, something that made her want to get to know him better. Moving quickly, she jogged to catch up with him. "Mark, wait . . ."
XXXXXX
Years later, she would be lying in their bed, fat down pillows stuffed behind her back. She would appear relaxed, absorbed in her book while her hand rhythmically stroked Delia, who would be stretched out on the bed beside her. He would grin as he walked into the room, watching her thumb through a copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting, her face pinched with concentration. "You've read that thing three times. The words aren't going to change, you know."
She would glance up, a smile covering her face as he sat down on the edge of the mattress. "Shut up, Mark," she would tease. "You're just jealous because I'm going to know what I'm doing and you're not going to have a clue."
He would edge further onto the mattress, watching her eyes flutter closed in pleasure as he picked up each of her feet, stroking the bottoms with his thumbs. She would sigh, settling further into the pillows. "How was work?"
And he would tell her, not leaving out a detail because he would know how much she was missing the hospital, how much she was missing the surgeries. She would frown as he described the extensive skin graft he performed that afternoon, a childish mock-frown meant to make him think she was jealous, despite the fact that, given the option of holding a scalpel or carrying their child, she would never hesitate in choosing the latter.
He would grin at her after he finished his story, crawling across the bed and placing a quick kiss on her lips. "I'm going to take a shower."
Just as he had internally predicted, she would smile sweetly, wrapping her hands behind his neck so that she could keep him close, her lips lingering on his. "I'm really hungry, actually. Do you think you could get me a snack first?"
The way her lips turned into a plump, pleading pout would make him grin, and he would worry that their daughter would someday have the same effect on him. He would nod, standing up from the bed. "What do you want?"
She would smile triumphantly, chewing on her lower lip as she sat in deep thought. "I don't know; surprise me."
It would be ten minutes before her impatience would get the best of her as she laid waiting in their master bedroom. She would frown, looking at the empty doorway. "Mark?"
He wouldn't answer her call, nor the one she bellowed two minutes later, and then two minutes after that, and so forth. She would start to grow worried, her heartbeat quickening a little as she envisioned him accidentally engulfing the kitchen in a whirling pillar of flames as he attempted to whip up an omelet. She would be throwing her feet onto the floor, about to break Addison's order of strict bed rest in an effort to find her husband, when he would appear in the doorway, a cup balanced in one hand, a small brown paper bag in the other, and a proud grin stretched across his face.
She would scowl at him. "Where the hell have you been? We've been worried about you."
He would smirk at the way she included Delia in her claim, knowing that she thought it would be less prejudicial to have someone share her neuroticism. "I went to get you a snack," he would innocently reply, handing her the paper bag. She would peak inside, finding the moist sugar cookie from her favorite bakery in Seattle, and the grin on her face would tell him that he was instantly forgiven. "And this, too."
She would take the cup from his hand, meeting his eyes after she read the label from the smoothie place located on the outskirts of Discovery Park. He would watch her take a sip, her eyes fluttering closed as the cool liquid melted onto her taste buds. "I told them to put in extra sherbet," he would tell her.
The sweet taste would instantly remind her of the day they had truly met, the day they stopped judging one another based on appearances and rumors, and gotten to know each other for who they really were. It would remind her of the day that her life had actually begun. "Thank you," she would whisper, her eyes shining as they met his.
And when their lips would meet, she would feel the same spark that she had felt the very first time they had shared a kiss in the middle of Discovery Park, and, not for the first time, she would marvel at just how right it was.
XXXXXXXXXX
Meredith and Derek
It was a nice day outside, too beautiful to spend indoors without feelings of guilt setting in. She gripped the iron railings of the ferry, her eyes sweeping across Elliot Bay as the vessel whipped through the water, churning waves onto the side of the boat.
It was a short journey from one point to the other, and before she knew it, the ferry was docking in its slip. She returned to her car, waiting patiently for her turn to edge off the ferry, and then she was speeding down the curving roads, her hair whipping behind her against the breeze coming through the opened windows as music rained from her car's speakers.
She parked her SUV far enough away that she was sure she wouldn't be caught, climbing up the side of the sloped driveway and veering off along the path, making her way toward the clearing that overlooked the water.
When he saw her, she was crouched to the ground, humming a nonsensical tune as she hovered over the gravesite that was marked with stones in the shape of a cross. Her hands were busily arranging a bouquet of flowers, flowers which he recognized as having come from the wild patch growing at the base of his driveway. He smirked as he noticed the roots still hanging from the ends, littering the dark denim of her jeans with smudges of dirt as she laid them across the hardened surface of the earth.
He crossed the distance between them, paying special attention so that his boots wouldn't crunch against the recently fallen leaves scattered about the ground. He stopped directly behind her, his eyes sweeping over the water before glancing down to her figure, watching her wipe her tiny hands along the seams of her jeans. "He was a great dog," he commented, smiling apologetically when she nearly jumped out of her skin. "I still miss him."
She stood up immediately, looking almost guilty at being caught as her eyes darted across the clearing. "I thought you had surgery today."
He couldn't help but feel a twinge of pleasure at knowing that she still checked his schedule, that she still cared enough about him to want to know where he was during the day. "I had to reschedule it for later this afternoon. Hahn needed my OR."
She nodded, swallowing nervously. The discomfort that hung between them was undeniable. It made her heart ache, and not for the first time since finding out about Rose. About the kiss. She looked down, wishing like hell she was still holding those flowers because, for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what to do with her hands. "Well, I guess I should be going."
He licked his lips, his hand jutting toward her before he could quell the movement. "You don't have to." He was searching her face, searching for some indication that she wanted to stay as much as he wanted her to. "I came up here to fish. You can join me if you want."
She looked down, her eyes staring sightlessly at her black and white Converse shoes peaking out from the ends of her bootcut jeans. "I don't know, Derek. I should probably get going."
He could hear the hesitancy in her voice, and he took it as a cue to push forth, smirking as she looked up at him. "Oh that's right," he teased. "You never were much of a fisherman."
She narrowed her eyes, her expression flashing with amusement at the challenge. "Excuse me? Need I remind you that I caught a phenomenal Blackmouth last year?" she asked, a grin spreading across her lips as she rocked forward onto her toes. "If I remember correctly, you were absolutely green with envy."
He laughed, the sound ringing through the denseness of the surrounding woods. "I'm pretty sure that I'm the one who caught that fish. I just happened to be holding your fishing pole at the time."
It felt good to laugh with him again, and she found herself unconsciously moving closer, standing so near that she could feel his body heat permeating the thin cotton of his flannel shirt. "I think you've let your mind rewrite history," she told him with a laugh, "to make yourself feel more like a man."
It took no further convincing, and within minutes they were situated side by side on the large boulder at the base of the lake. She didn't hesitate to dig into his tackle box, choosing a metallic green lure. "I like this one the best. It's the one I used to use."
He grinned. "Strange. That's the one I was going to pick."
Their fingers brushed together as he reached to take it from her grasp, and her heart fluttered at the contact, her pulse quickening as their eyes met. She smiled, a shy, hesitant smile that reminded him of the way she'd looked at him when they first started dating, her eyes devoid of the jadedness that she'd developed after months and months of heartbreak. "Can I cast the line?" she asked, holding her hand out for the pole.
He nodded, handing it over. Out of habit, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, placing his hands over hers. Together, they pulled the pole back, releasing the line at the perfect moment and sending it sprawling in the air, the lure sinking to the floor of the lake.
When a fish tugged on the line twenty minutes later, he couldn't help the smirk that covered his lips at the sight of her excitement. She grinned the entire time he turned the reel, her eyes glued to the water as it began to ripple at the movement of the fish being pulled to the surface.
She laughed as he reeled it in from the lake, shaking her head. "It's a Blackmouth."
He nodded, pulling the hook out of the jaw of the flailing fish. "It's breakfast." He grinned, his eyes sweeping over her face. "You have to help me eat it, you know. It's tradition."
The ease with which he said it caused her grin to falter. It was almost as if they'd temporarily forgotten about the months they'd spent apart, the months that she'd spent alone. It was as if they were caught up in a delusion that they were still Meredith and Derek, the one entity that had seemed to exist before they proclaimed that they couldn't do it anymore.
She sighed, shaking her head as they both stood up. "No, I should really get going."
He heard the quiver in her voice, and he reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Meredith . . ."
She backed away from his touch, her eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry, Derek. I can't."
She was halfway down the path before she left the tears flow, her hands rising so that she could place her palms over her eyelids. A shuddering sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against a tree, taking deep breaths as she glanced down the narrow path.
It was then that she realized that the growing ache in her chest was not because he'd touched her; it was not because he'd gazed at her with a passion that she knew was reserved solely for her. The ache was increasing because she had run. Yet again, she had run when he'd reached out, and the distance between them was suddenly far more frightening than the close proximity.
Almost instantaneously, she found herself backtracking, her legs moving in a near run as she treaded toward the clearing. When she found the area empty, her heart sank, but the rustling of leaves had her head whipping around.
A tiny grin formed on her face when she saw him walking down the lane that led to his trailer, his rod and tackle box in one hand and their fish in the other. It surprised her how sure she felt as she began moving towards him, her feet following the trail that he was walking, the trail that led home. "Derek, wait..."
XXXXXX
Years later, they would be walking down that very same path, side by side except for the tiny girl planted between them. Her small hands would be wrapped between each of theirs as they made their way toward the water, her expression full of excitement as she skipped with each step. "I want to catch a big one," she would proclaim, "just like Mommy!"
They would both smile at her. "Well, you can do it, Abby," he would tell her, "but you have to have patience."
The sun would be shining brightly on that late summer morning, rays of light bouncing off of the child's wavy brown hair that cascaded passed her shoulders. She would nod, her expression suddenly so serious that they would want to laugh. "Oh, I do! I have patience. I really do."
When they came upon the boulder at the surface of the water, they would all sit down, the young girl perched on her father's lap. "Can I pick it, Daddy?"
He would nod knowingly, grinning down at her as he opened the tackle box. "Of course you can."
When her fingers wrapped around the metallic green lure, he would smirk. "That's a lucky one, you know." He would glance up at his wife, his deep blue eyes shining as she snuggled closer to his side, the fishing pole balanced in her hand. "It's the one I caught your mom with."
The little girl's eyes would widen, her mouth falling open in surprise. "Really?" she would ask in wonderment, glancing to her mother.
She would smile at her daughter, thinking about everything she would've missed if she'd kept on running that day, if she hadn't turned around and altered the course of her life. "It's true, baby. Right here on this very rock."
When he met her eyes, they would share a look, one of many passion-filled looks that would pass between them over the years. He would smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he gazed at his wife. "Sometimes, Abby," he would say to the little girl, "the hardest ones to catch are the greatest ones out there."
And she would grin, a soft laugh passing through her lips as she gazed at her husband, feeling a sense of safety that she never thought possible until she'd finally allowed herself to be caught.
XXXXXXXXXX
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