A/N: In my head this is (highly improbable) backstory, the kind that happens and you never, ever speak of it again. Or...it's just flat out A/U. Either way, dying child. There be your only warning. Also, this is split up because it got long and because no one needs over twenty pages of weird angst. I will have the second half up in a few days. Enjoy-

~-~-~-~-~-~
An Accidental Memory In the Case of Death
- Eluvium
~-~-~-~-~-~

If you asked Addison, not that Mark did, she would say that she has known there was something wrong since the first appointment. The moment she heard her child's heartbeat she knew. On the other hand, if you asked Derek, which Mark also did not, he would tell you that he wasn't certain until he held her for the first time. Five pounds, two ounces, seventeen inches of looming heartache. Lillian, they called her.

"Uncle Mark?" Derek's hair, Addison's eyes and somebody else's nose. He turns to the sound of his name, his goddaughter awake but still drowsy. His smile is small but genuine. She seems to bring it out in him, this calmness. There's no sense in rushing, no point in being overly flirtatious and annoying. It's only him and her, a relationship as odd as any other in his life.

"Where's Mommy?" she asks while he strokes her arm. It's warm to the touch, purple pajamas bunched up to her elbow from a fitful rest.

"She'll be back," he assures her with a firm pat. "They're still at dinner."

And with that she eases back down on the hospital pillows and the straight line in her mouth that she gets from Addison turns sheepishly upward to a tiny grin. "Can we read?"

"Of course," he replies. He lets her do as she pleases when it's his turn on the rotating shift. It's all he can give. The thin pages fall open over his scrub covered legs and slowly he whisks them both away to another land. One with cotton candy colored sand, lapping waves, and children who play under the sun.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself," Derek insists halfway into the meal, fisting the black fabric napkin and shoving it onto his lap once again.

They've gone through the habitual questions, the dealing with what if the nurses don't pay enough attention to her, what if they don't give her the right medication in the right way, and what if she wakes up and no one is there and she's scared. They've dealt with Addison calling to check in, twice. And now he finds they are just at their wits end. He has the same worries, he just believes that at least one person on that never changing staff that they hand picked is capable of doing their job. He's tired of fighting for her attention, and she's simply exhausted and consumed.

She's not enjoying herself, and they both know it.

"How was your day?" she asks instead, resigned and already through with the day.

"Good," he nods disingenuously. It's the same old song and dance, their conversation never veering sharply enough to snatch her out of auto pilot mode. "O'Brien let me assist him and I got to do more than hold a clamp and watch like an intern for once."

"I started reading The Secret Garden to Lilly. I finally remembered to have Savvy-"

"No," Derek interrupts. "This is just us Addison. Just...us right now."

She drops her head and digs her teeth into the red lips that are threatening to quiver. With a brief flash it's gone and she rips a piece of bread with no intention of eating.

Derek takes in the silence and soaks. It's unideal, and he's not happy that it's come to this but he's trying. Attempting to have a normal date with the woman he loves. "I was thinking maybe we could go up to Mom's this weekend. We're both off." He stops when she doesn't even look up at him. "It's Fourth of July. Picnic, fireworks, Nancy's kids driving us crazy, you know the routine."

The red alarm bells begin to swirl through Addison's head, their squeal hurting her ears. Sure, it's potato salad and wagon rides but it's also his family nagging her, giving advice, and throwing hugs every which way. Plus Lillian can't be there, and she needs that shield around those people.

"I already said we'd be there," Derek manages to squeak out.

"Have fun," she nods and orders another bottle of wine.

"Addison," he begins softly, his hand taking hers over the unused forks and smooth tablecloth. "Kathleen says that it's a good idea to get away sometimes. She's not going anywhere-"

"Don't," she warns with a clenched jaw and forced glare. "Don't do this here."

~-~-~-~-~-~

"And we're back," Derek announces as Mark's eyes pop open in surprise and he stretches against the chair Addison is always occupying. He stands guard when she isn't here, an unspoken agreement between friends.

"Hey."

"Hi," Derek replies, Addison bristling by them both to kiss her daughter's sleeping head. She brushes a few stray bangs off of her forehead and then settles into the space Mark just vacated to watch. She sees everything. Every inhale, exhale, sputter, and gasp. Every tear, every word, every threat. It's all hers.

"Say goodnight Addie," Derek instructs, having come to agreement in the cab on the way back. Tonight they were sleeping in their own bed. No on call rooms and uncomfortable chairs. It will be their laundered sheets in the room they haven't seen for more than ten seconds in months.

"Night Sweetheart," Addison whispers, making sure no one who cares can hear her. She feels her heart tug as Derek leads her from the room with a hand on her back, and another playing with her fingers, having something to grasp in case she tries to turn around.

"It's only one night," Derek tells her, working overtime to make his tone appear supportive instead of infuriated, when they enter the magically empty elevator.

"But what if-"

"She won't," Derek says calmly, finding that when his voice is steady and clear Addison follows along much faster. "And I have to be at work again at five-thirty. We won't be gone long. I promise." He kisses her cheek on the way to the car and catches the lingering taste of salt. It seems that's always there these days.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Holstat said they are beginning another clinical trial on Monday. I think we should try and get her in," Addison says flatly after they enter the brownstone, her coat hanging from the rack, Derek's keys dropped into the bowl by the door.

"I looked it over and-"

"Don't say no," Addison pleads, dropping onto the couch. "Please...let's try this one."

"We've tried all of them," Derek grumbles and fixes himself a scotch before offering her one.

"We haven't," Addison refutes and takes a glass of water this time instead. Alcohol clouds her judgment and she needs the few moments of clarity she has lately.

Derek finds a light jazz station on the radio and lets it simmer before deciding it will be suitable background noise. The television tends to startle Addison lately and the foot traffic and commotion outside isn't enough to keep him from feeling like he is suffocating. "I think we shouldn't. It's best for her that we don't."

"No, it's best that we try. We have to try. It's our job to try Derek."

"We have tried. Terminal, Addison, I know you aren't on rotations right now but you have a general understanding of-"

"Stop it," she fights back, taking the bait. "Stop. Stop treating her like she's already gone. You don't even talk to her anymore. You didn't tell her goodnight," she pouts suddenly. It's much more important than it seems.

"I did when we left for dinner. When she was awake. We weren't supposed to go back," he says with a sigh and folds himself onto the space next to her, mindful not to touch.

"You treat her like a patient," Addison whispers and he nods sadly, caught in his game, always unsure of how she can see through him so clearly.

In the end it comes down to survival. It's how he deals, that's how he goes to work everyday. How he gets up in the morning, how he finds sleep at night. They won't save her but there's no reason why maybe they can't learn something from her. And perhaps they'll save the next kid with what they gather. That's his approach.

"She's our daughter. Not your patient!" Addison explodes, breaking his reverie, and inches away her hands jerk up toward her chest when he pulls one in to console without thought.

"I know," he stumbles. "I know that."

"I'm going to bed," she announces and drifts toward the stairs without inviting him, her cell phone already being dialed to call and check with Mark before she attempts to catch about an hour of rest.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"I'm sorry," Derek mutters as he enters their room a few minutes later. "I'm sorry Addison."

She pulls the comforter up to her chin and remains focused on the ceiling.

Lillian wasn't unwanted but she also wasn't planned. She was resented and for that Addison feels guilt. Guilt of epic proportions that tends to tell her this is what she gets for ever having thought that one could wish for a miscarriage when blowing out birthday candles. But then Derek found out two days later and it was too late to do any sort of hoping because he was absolutely over the moon. The way he smiled, the tears in his eyes as he held her tightly, these are the things that come to mind when she's left alone, when there are no monitors keeping them both steady and strong. When there isn't a small child to her left to watch over and stroke and love.

These type of evenings torment her, turn her into an uncontrollable tornado of feelings and memories. It's the one thing she truly loathes about the entire process. She can deal with yelling at incompetent nurses, reading stories to an already sleeping child to keep herself in check, and never sleeping. But being alone with herself is frightening. Focusing on anything other that Lilly is too difficult.

Addison doesn't blink when Derek enters the room and she doesn't acknowledge when he speaks. She knew he'd follow just as much as she knows what comes next. The apology. She lets him kiss down her chin, her lips. Allows his hands to roam under her shirt, thinking he needs some sort of release to deal with the tension. It's distracting and that's appreciated. In truth, she doesn't mind his light moans, his staggered breathing, or the stars that he can still make her see. What she minds is the moments directly following, the afterglow that's dusted with unspoken words.

Derek is intent on taking his time this evening, but his wife is on a different course. Her fingers tug at his sweats impatiently as his sweetly undo buttons. Her teeth imprint his bottom lip while his take pleasure in lulling over collarbone. He murmurs something about going slower but then her hand finds something else to hold and he loses his footing, stumbling down a steep slope of pleasure that is always followed by pain.

It's frenzied when they have hours, intense instead of built up, unsatisfying and yet neither settles down unpleased. Her legs still tingle the same way, toes curling into the sheets. His chest still feels like exploding as his eyes find a way to roll further back. Just like the first time, just like the last time.

But it's different, it's as though she's not really there at all. Her motions on a predetermined path, her moans robotic in their consistency. He pauses only once to try and regain control of the tempo but she rolls them both over and he gives up, letting her do as she pleases.

It's nice to be able to give her something for just a minute, even if it comes at his expense.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Talk to me Addie," Derek presses, wriggling back into his pajamas and sliding closer to his silent partner. "We never talk anymore."

"There's nothing to say," Addison whispers, her throat thick with what just happened. He's playing with her hair, rubbing her spine in that certain way that makes her wiggle away and yet all she can do is curl into a tighter ball and stare at the closet doors. She's locked back in her hell, preoccupied with worry.

"There's plenty," he counters.

"I can't." And she means it. It's become that black and white.

"Kathleen says that sometimes-"

"I would appreciate it," she decides then and there, "if you wouldn't talk to Kathleen behind my back again."

"It's not- that's not what I'm doing. She called me, she asked-"

"Don't say anything then. She's not here. She's not in this, so frankly I don't care what she thinks or says or knows."

"Ok." Derek nuzzles into her neck, taking in her fresh scent. "I didn't do it to upset you. I thought she could help...us. We could use some help."

"I could use my husband. Lilly could use her father," Addison lashes out. "That's what we need. Just you."

And a miracle, Derek tacks on in his head. "I'm here," he mumbles into her ear, the words swirling softly, matched with a tender kiss to her jaw. "I'm right here." He feels her breath catch, hears her chest sputter. "Let it out Addie, it's just me."

This is why she stays in the hospital. There's no one to coerce into letting go, no one forcing her to be in the moment instead of around it, no one pushing her over the edge. Regardless, the tears fall. Rapidly racing through her lashes and streaming down her skin. Her head pounds with pressure, teeth rattle when she shakes, legs freeze when Derek pushes himself impossibly closer and drowns his grief in hers.

Their daughter is dying and he can't fix that. All he can do is hold on. As a doctor it's frustrating, as a father it's unfathomable.

He sniffles once more sending her back over the edge, neither powerful enough to deal with his collapse. They'll look worse for the wear tomorrow but he'll take it because in this moment, though it be anguishing, they are connecting. Temporarily aligned in the muck for the first time during the course of the last few weeks.

However, when he wakes up four hours later and she's already gone he's anything but shocked.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Hey Princess," Derek greets, white lab coat flowing behind him as he sweeps into the room on his lunch. He drops the tray next to Addison, chocolate pudding and an extra spoon for her in case she feels like eating something today, and then proceeds directly to the bed and snuggles with his daughter. He carefully avoids different tubes and cords, pulling her in for a hug. "How you been?"

"Good," she giggles, too young to understand the implication behind the question. Too young to really understand what's happening, but still blessed with an inane ability to understand that whatever it is makes Mommy sad and that they shouldn't talk about it.

"That's what I like to hear. What have you and Mommy been up to today?" He asks, pulling his stethoscope off and pressing it to her chest, listening as she takes deep breaths without being prompted. It's habit.

"We watched Nemo," she tells him, relaxing against him and yawning.

"Without me?" Derek asks, pretending to be offended, to which Addison just scowls. She's watched Nemo every day for the last three months. It's Lilly's favorite. He kisses her dark waves when she offers to watch again, if he'll stay. He explains that he has to return to work but he'll back as soon as he can, just like always.

He reaches a hand out to Addison who shuffles her chair a little closer, and rests her chin on his legs. Though the stops for lunch and other breaks have become more frequent they're still not a ritual and she enjoys just having her family all together in one room. Her tired eyes beg to be closed and she indulges herself, cheek pressed into her husband's warm thigh.

Derek finds himself drifting off to sleep, hands relaxing in the mess of tangled red hair they've found to stroke, before his pager blares next to Addison's ear causing her to jump. He silences it, grimaces at the code, pecks his wife's groggy lips and tells her he'll back shortly. Lilly, who is already fast asleep, gets no goodbye. There's no point. He's said it so many times already.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Can we talk real fast Addie?" Derek questions, poking his head into the room, long after the sun has set. He watches her drop her knitting needles, a hobby she's taken up as something to do. Something quiet and involving. It focuses her mind and allows her daughter rest when her voice gets scratchy from reading aloud all the books she thinks little girls should get to read in their lifetime.

"Yeah," Addison replies and sets the soft yellow yarn down in her chair as she leaves. Her glance lingers momentarily, making certain that Lilly's eyes aren't going to flutter open and notice her absence.

"Maybe we should..." Derek edges off, trying to steer her toward an empty on call room.

"No," Addison tells him sternly. She needs to be here. Right here, outside the door.

"Ok," Derek nods numbly. Today's a gentle day. A day to be easy with her. On a good day she'll leave the room, on the worst days she won't even excuse herself to use the restroom unless he's there to supervise.

"What?"

"I got a chance to talk to Holstat again-"

"Without me," she interjects softly.

"Not purposefully Add, it just happened." He watches her purse her lips and continues in a steady manner. "He looked over the clinical trial again," he pauses as her eyes flicker suddenly with recognition, bringing Addison back from wherever she just was, "and we both think that this one isn't a good fit. Lilly isn't what they are looking for and we think," he stops again while her face drops, his fingers beginning to rub her arm consolingly, "that it's best that we don't pursue this one. There's no sense in making her sicker for something that isn't geared toward ultimately making her better. Okay?"

"But he said that it was...a good fit."

"Maybe he didn't get a chance to really look it over before, when he spoke with you."

"He's her doctor, that's his job Derek."

"I know," he agrees quickly. "Maybe...no, I'll talk to him about it. About doing that. It wasn't fair of him to do that to you and Lilly."

"And you," she adds.

"Right." Derek knows the answer. No one likes talking to Addison about anything to do with Lilly. She's overbearing and heartbreakingly hopeful. No one can tell her no, no one can tell her that something won't work. They all leave it to him. "Maybe there's another one...we haven't found," Derek volunteers a few seconds later. In his weakest moments he finds her despair is contagious, even when he knows better than to fall into it. He's the realist, she shoulders the wishes for a future with their daughter. A delicate balance always threatening to give out.

"Yeah," she grins, lips flipping into a frown that gets her a firm hug from Derek.

"I'm off at seven today...I was thinking maybe we could both stay in here tonight and then go to Mom's tomorrow. I know," he speaks a little louder when she tries to interrupt, "you don't want to be there and it's not the best way I can think to spend the weekend but it'll be good for us. It's good for Lilly too."

"I'm not leaving her."

"I'm not asking you to leave her...we'll go up for the afternoon, take pictures to show Lilly-"

"Of everything she's missing because she's stuck in a hospital bed? How will that be good for her?" Addison asks, pulling out of his embrace hastily, and wrapping her arms around herself.

"She misses her family Addie, she talks about Nana-"

"Who hasn't been here to see her-"

"It's hard...for everyone. Addison, please," Derek begs, as nurses begin to perk up their ears. "We'll talk to her about it. If she's alright with us being gone for a few hours we'll go, just on Saturday. If not, then I'll go out and get some movies and we'll stay here. All weekend, no pager. Let's ask her first though. Please."

"Promise you'll stay tonight?" Addison questions in disbelief. Every time he's said that lately something comes up and she's the one squashing her daughter's hopes of hanging out with Daddy, who incidentally happens to be her do-no-wrong hero.

"I promise," he kisses her forehead soundly, liking the sigh of relief she gives off.

"Okay," Addison nods, slightly uncertain but not wanting to fight with him out in the hall where not only the staff can hear but also her baby girl.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"See?" Derek grins smugly, looping an arm around Addison's waist, pulling her closer. "It's not all bad."

"I guess not," Addison concedes bringing the fruit punch back to her lips. She still wishes Lillian was there, playing with her cousins, trying to keep up with everyone but as long as Derek is right next to her no one will bother asking questions or offering heaping plates full of pity. Together they are indestructible.

"Hey," Nancy smiles and hugs both of them suddenly. "Glad you guys came up."

"Yeah," Derek agrees, keeping his paper plate steady, plastic fork sticking out of chunky macaroni salad.

"How's...how is Lilly?" She asks, eyes facing the rest of the family at the staggered tables out under the brutal sun.

"She's..."

"She's doing well," Addison jumps in, rescuing Derek.

"I promised Mom I'd ask, so Kathleen didn't come over and drive you guys insane." Nancy shakes her head and chuckles. "But you know, if you need anything, either of you, I'd be there in an instant."

"Thank you," Derek gulps, eyes beginning to brim in a manner he isn't comfortable with around his closest sister.

"How's Jack?" Addison asks, watching the group of kids attempt to shovel food into their mouths instead of onto their clothes.

"He's good, busy. Sorry he couldn't be here."

"Yeah," Addison smirks, "I bet."

"Well, maybe he isn't exactly sorry," Nancy explains. "But I know he likes all of our craziness even when he won't admit it. A lot like someone else I know." She pokes Addison in the shoulder and falls easily into medical talk about her new patients, careful not to ask when Addison thinks she'll be coming back to finish up her other fellowship. On behalf of her family she asked what she had to, on behalf of herself she's keeping it cool, wanting to make sure that they have an enjoyable time if it's possible.

Derek excuses himself to answer the vibrating in his pocket a few minutes in, beyond joyous to be pulled from the conversation about uteruses and placental abruptions. "Hello?"

"Dr. Shepherd?"

"Speaking," Derek replies thoughtlessly, dropping his empty plate into the overflowing garbage in the kitchen. His fingers begin to trace over the counters he's known since he was a child.

"Dr. Shepherd, we need you to come in."

"Who is this?"

"Molly," she squeaks, "Molly Walters...Dr. Walters."

"Dr. Walters I'm not on call this weekend but if you page upstairs I'm sure that someone can help you."

"I'm calling about Lilly-Lillian sir," she swallows heavily staring at the child in the other room.

"You aren't one of Lilly's doctors," Derek snaps back, running down the list again. Nurses, doctors, back-ups. No Molly Walters.

"No, sir, I'm not. I'm an intern-"

"Interns aren't allowed-"

"I was passing by," Molly interrupts. "I saw her through the window, the blinds weren't drawn. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"What happened?" Derek demands instantly, not liking the sounds of the finicky intern on the line.

"She was having problems breathing. None of the nurses were around, I paged Dr. Holstat but he was out. I called the code...I-I did..."

"Spit it out," Derek shouts at her, dashing around the back of the stairs so no one outside can hear him.

"I couldn't get the tube in, It-it wouldn't go in," Molly stutters, hands beginning to shake just like before.

"What tube?"

"I was going to intubate her, she couldn't breathe."

"And instead?"

"I-I...preformed a cricothyroidotomoy."

"On my four year old!"

"It was the only thing I could think of, I-I didn't mean to-"

"How is she?"

"She's...stable, sedated. They are running a few tests...sir."

"We're on our way back. Tell Holstat I want him in that room in two hours with a damn good explanation." Derek jams the red button on the phone without a goodbye and then runs to the bathroom, nearly throwing up on the hall rug before he can slam the door shut. The contents of his holiday celebration churn instantly, leaving him crouched over the toilet much longer than he anticipates.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Was her airway-"

"I don't know," Derek cuts her off as they slowly pull out of the driveway, after having made up some excuse so no one would try and come with them for the emergency.

"Is she on a ventilat-"

"I didn't ask," Derek tells her, blinker steadily pounding away the tension.

"Is it still in?"

"Probably," Derek shakes his head gloomily. They weren't there and there isn't a doubt in his mind that she wasn't terrified for the entire experience. God, he should have been there, even if it was just so that he could be the one slicing open her throat.

"Why was that...girl even in there?"

"I don't know Addison." He watches her retire against the seat, shoulders clenched together, fingers beginning to play with her cuticles. He quickly places a hand over them, not wanting to watch her rip her skin until it bleeds. "It's going to be okay. She's stable. We'll figure this out...we'll figure it out."

"You don't know that," Addison whispers and then reaches for the volume dial. Two hours never seemed so long.

"No," Derek concurs. "But...I don't want you to worry. We won't worry until we know." He squeezes her hand tighter, more for himself, not feeling her give off any pressure in return. "Deal?"

Addison feels the air getting thicker with each passing second, every car that Derek speeds around recklessly. She runs through all the possibilities, their outcomes, the treatments that would follow, the recovery time for every scenario imaginable. She's got the best results on one side of her palm, invisible, the worst on the other. Complications envisioned on her left hand, front and back. Then she numbers them, shuffles them in her mind alphabetically and puts them back in their place along the cracks and crevices.

Derek notes that his swearing goes unnoticed by his passenger, as does the aggressive road rage he seems to have picked up from Mark. His heart pumps faster as the clock counts down the minutes to their destination. He replays the conversation over and over. Intonation, pauses, stumbles in speech. She was nervous, she wasn't supposed to be there. It could be nothing, it could be the end. His mind goes wild for the duration.

By the time they arrive Derek's ready to go run a race, Addison prepared to fight a war.

~-~-~-~-~-~