love was all we had (g)
Title: love was all we had (worth giving)
Characters: Derek, Addison (Derek/Addison)
Rating: G
Spoilers: None. This follows up on the latest two-hour episode of Private Practice without referring to any of the events.
Words: 1,968
Summary: Addison looks for solace and Derek just tries to understands.
First, there is a crash.
The sound of broken glass followed by a stream of profanities.
Two people walking down the street look up and stare. They’re a couple, both recent college graduates and they’re holding hands and talking in hushed tones about their futures. Maybe they’re planning a long-distance relationship or maybe he’s thinking about a proposal but they’ll never know because there is a crash.
‘What happened?’ the boy asks and the girl just shakes their head.
They leave, taking with them the last remaining sounds of broken glass.
-
‘Don’t do this,’ Sam says warningly, an edge of fear creeping in his voice. ‘Don’t do this.’
Addison sits on his bed, her knees pressed together and she’s staring right at the wall like she can make a hole into it. She doesn’t reply when he speaks and he comes to shake her harshly by the shoulders.
‘Don’t do it.’ He repeats again, like he’s in a temple and this is a mantra and this will make everything alright. ‘Don’t.’
She still doesn’t say anything but this time she turns to look at him. Her gaze is cold and maybe she’s a little broken and her emotions have been too much over the place. But she looks at him helplessly and pleads. Sam knows she’s pleading because there’s a weird crease around her eyes and they’re almost brimming with water. He knows she’s pleading because she’s never pleaded before in front of him.
This, her looking at him like he’s God, scares the hell out of him.
He still shakes her again like it means something. ‘Don’t do this. Please.’
But, through her pleading, she’s resolute and he can only stand back and watch as she picks up the phone. He tells her not to but she picks up her phone anyway and dials the number. He knows the number she’s dialing by the way her thumbs move in perfect synchronization.
Like riding a bike, a part of him thinks.
She holds the phone up to his ear and Sam hears him utter a faint hello before he’s out of the room.
-
For her, this is one of those moments. Moments where she isn’t sure if everything is falling apart or arranging themselves back into pieces. She doesn’t know what to expect while she’s dialing and it hits her that she’s speechless after the call is made.
Someone picks up on the other line and her heart stops for just a second. She stutters before straightening up and speaking.
‘Hello,’ she says, and her voice is still faint and downstairs he hears Sam on the phone with Maya, giving an awkward lecture about why tube-tops shouldn’t be worn to school.
‘Addison?’ The voice on the other end is a mix of surprise, concern and happiness. She’s glad that the voice holds the last part, even though she isn’t sure if she’s the reason for it.
‘Derek.’ It’s a statement.
-
They speak in hushed whispers in the dark. Their voices echo around each other and yet they can’t bear to raise them because this is what they have left. The last shreds of their marriage that wasn’t quite drowned along with that engagement ring. In the dark, they have the quiet to themselves and they are free to visualize just that life. The one with the walk-in closet, early morning kisses and pancake batters on their hair.
‘What happened?’ his voice is bordering on being panicky now. ‘Is everything alright?’
She breathes heavily through the silent tears streaming through her face, but he knows already that she’s crying. They were just that them once upon a time.
She hangs up abruptly. She can’t do this, dammit, and maybe, maybe Sam was right all along. All this is going to do is dig up unsolved things of the past.
Downstairs, Sam cooks and she cries herself to sleep.
-
The next part of the story is simple. He is Derek, happily married to a great woman, great relationship with a great best friend and the best half-sister he could ask for. He is the Head of Neurosurgery and, maybe, he’s already the Chief in some ways.
The next part of the story is simple. This is logical, the natural course of progression of events from the point of view of an emotionally content and stable man. There’s no controversy, nothing to be disagreed over.
Forget. Move on.
It’s just that simple.
-
There’s a ticket. A sleek ticket with perfect symmetry. It’s beautiful, if one might look at it from a technological point of view. At the back, there’s a woman smiling under the sun with happy journey stamped across the pine trees.
Except.
The destination reads: LAX. The ticket shakes a little in his hand.
-
He flies across the country. For her.
He shows up at her doorstep against all odds.
(i love you and i love you too and that eternal hug and the kiss that lasts forever? Doesn’t happen.)
-
She doesn’t ask any questions when he shows up. He’s let in silently and someone offers or someone asks for a glass of wine. They sit side by side on the sofa and their shoulders touch briefly as they reach for their glasses.
‘How’s Meredith?’ she asks.
He takes one look at her swollen eyes and the dark circles and unkempt hair and the sneakers and answers the question anyway.
‘She’s fine,’ he replies. ‘She just donated a part of her liver to her father. But, she’s getting back to the work routine slowly.’
She nods her head and tries to smile. ‘How are you?’ It’s his turn now.
She nods again and takes a deep breath. ‘I’m good,’ she tries to smile. ‘Sam and I have become great friends and I just performed a complex in-utero procedure. My patients are doing well and-’
She doesn’t know what she would’ve said next but he cuts her off anyway.
‘You’re wearing my sweatshirt,’ he blurts.
She turns to look at him with some surprise and he elaborates. ‘You got this for me when you went to visit your dad one summer. You,’ he coughs a little awkwardly but that look of affection is back in his eyes, ‘would wear it to sleep when I was on call because you said it smelt like me.’
He turns away a little and concentrates more on the intricate, subtle designs on his glass and the slow whirring of the washing-machine in the background.
But she still hasn’t replied twelve minutes and thirty two seconds later so he turns to look back at her. She has her face in her hands and her shoulders are shaking slightly.
The rest is instinctive. He pulls her towards himself in a quick motion and rubs her back in concentric circles until she’s sniffing and wetting his shirt with her tears.
He pushes the hair back from her face and pulls her tighter towards him. ‘Shhh,’ he whispers into her hair and it soothes her down just a little bit. ‘You’re wearing my sweatshirt, Addie. Everything will be alright.’
She believes him and slowly, her head relaxes on his shoulder and before long, she’s snoring slightly.
He sits there and strokes her hair for the rest of the night.
-
They don’t talk about it the next morning.
He smiles at her on his way to the shower and she silently hands him clean towels.
She washes her face and puts on makeup. Then she takes off the sweatshirt and goes to work.
-
He stays there for two weeks, four days and three hours.
Meredith calls him about fifteen times. There are seven frantic voicemail messages from Lexie and nine sterner ones from the Chief condoning him for being so lax in his responsibilities, especially during the merger.
There’s also an abrasive message from Cristina demanding that he get back right now, before her best friend freaks out and starts doing tequila shots and penises. There are two messages from Callie telling him to stop being a douchebag.
But he searches his phone history over and over again and there’s no call from Mark. If he were to guess, he would’ve bet his life on Mark knowing all along.
-
Their routine, when they’re both at home, is like this:
They have dinner together and talk about their day. She talks about the new patient and Naomi and Sam and how difficult pointedly ignoring Violet is getting. He talks about the sun and the beach and ‘that nice guy’ who tried to come onto him.
They make polite conversation, sprinkled with laughs and awkward pauses and punctuated with coughs.
Then, he goes to shower and she brushes his teeth as she hears him humming softly through the shower curtain.
At night, there’s a perfunctory good-night kiss and he doesn’t hog the blankets. In the morning, he wakes her up with coffee and bread and pancakes.
They fall into the routine. It’s almost like they were never apart.
-
In his defense, he does try to start a conversation once.
‘You can tell me what happened, you know.’
She shakes her head and stares fixedly at the television screen.
‘I’m trying to help. I’m trying to be here, Addie.’
Her fingers curl impulsively around her glass and he lets it go.
-
He decides to leave after the Chief threatens to fire him if he isn’t back in twenty-four hours. She sits on the couch and resolutely looks the other way as he silently packs his stuff and calls the airlines to book the latest flight.
Their last dinner is in silence and she spends the night on her couch while he lies on the bed and paints imaginary designs on the ceiling.
She calls a cab for him to take him to the airport. He looks back at her, facing the sea as the sun rises behind her, and she becomes a tiny speck.
-
People have told them that their story is out of the world. It’s a part of movies. Something about the guy and the girl and love at first sight. Something out of a Mills and Boons novel.
So, he already knows who’s calling when his phone rings ten minutes before he’s supposed to board.
It’s her and he turns back in the airport and she’s standing there, complete in high heels and impeccable make-up and ironed hair and the sweatshirt. Oh yes, the sweatshirt.
‘Come back,’ she says as she brushes off an imaginary speck of dust from his jacket. She isn’t pleading this time; her voice holds authority and layers of experience.
He smiles and nods. She sees at least that much; the promise in his eyes and assurance in his gait and he looks back just one more time before he goes.
She stands there until he’s gone, and then some more.
-
A little girl sticks her head out of the car window and closes her eyes, letting the cool wind brush her hair and make her face tickle.
She nudges her mother, who’s driving the car and points at the car in the next lane. ‘Look, Mommy!’ she exclaims in a high-pitched, excited voice and points out the window. ‘Isn’t that lady beautiful? Will my hair be red like hers when I grow up?’
Her mother tries to look away awkwardly as the lady in the car next to her hears her daughter’s screams and turns to look at them for a moment. The little girl, with flashing hair and dreams in her eyes, is still smiling away and waves frantically. Her mother tries to reprimand her for pointing at strangers but the lady in the next car doesn’t mind.
She looks gently at the little girl. She smiles.
She breathes.
End.
-
Notes: Personally, writing this was exhausting. Which is surprising, since it took me a very short period of time. I'm not sure how it ended up being, though. I tried to show a different side of the characters, and going in-depth in another direction was terrifying. The subtleties are something I'm still exploring, and your comments and con-crit would mean the world to me. There's a lot in it that I think can be explored further. I might go on that path based on your reactions, so hee.
Characters: Derek, Addison (Derek/Addison)
Rating: G
Spoilers: None. This follows up on the latest two-hour episode of Private Practice without referring to any of the events.
Words: 1,968
Summary: Addison looks for solace and Derek just tries to understands.
First, there is a crash.
The sound of broken glass followed by a stream of profanities.
Two people walking down the street look up and stare. They’re a couple, both recent college graduates and they’re holding hands and talking in hushed tones about their futures. Maybe they’re planning a long-distance relationship or maybe he’s thinking about a proposal but they’ll never know because there is a crash.
‘What happened?’ the boy asks and the girl just shakes their head.
They leave, taking with them the last remaining sounds of broken glass.
-
‘Don’t do this,’ Sam says warningly, an edge of fear creeping in his voice. ‘Don’t do this.’
Addison sits on his bed, her knees pressed together and she’s staring right at the wall like she can make a hole into it. She doesn’t reply when he speaks and he comes to shake her harshly by the shoulders.
‘Don’t do it.’ He repeats again, like he’s in a temple and this is a mantra and this will make everything alright. ‘Don’t.’
She still doesn’t say anything but this time she turns to look at him. Her gaze is cold and maybe she’s a little broken and her emotions have been too much over the place. But she looks at him helplessly and pleads. Sam knows she’s pleading because there’s a weird crease around her eyes and they’re almost brimming with water. He knows she’s pleading because she’s never pleaded before in front of him.
This, her looking at him like he’s God, scares the hell out of him.
He still shakes her again like it means something. ‘Don’t do this. Please.’
But, through her pleading, she’s resolute and he can only stand back and watch as she picks up the phone. He tells her not to but she picks up her phone anyway and dials the number. He knows the number she’s dialing by the way her thumbs move in perfect synchronization.
Like riding a bike, a part of him thinks.
She holds the phone up to his ear and Sam hears him utter a faint hello before he’s out of the room.
-
For her, this is one of those moments. Moments where she isn’t sure if everything is falling apart or arranging themselves back into pieces. She doesn’t know what to expect while she’s dialing and it hits her that she’s speechless after the call is made.
Someone picks up on the other line and her heart stops for just a second. She stutters before straightening up and speaking.
‘Hello,’ she says, and her voice is still faint and downstairs he hears Sam on the phone with Maya, giving an awkward lecture about why tube-tops shouldn’t be worn to school.
‘Addison?’ The voice on the other end is a mix of surprise, concern and happiness. She’s glad that the voice holds the last part, even though she isn’t sure if she’s the reason for it.
‘Derek.’ It’s a statement.
-
They speak in hushed whispers in the dark. Their voices echo around each other and yet they can’t bear to raise them because this is what they have left. The last shreds of their marriage that wasn’t quite drowned along with that engagement ring. In the dark, they have the quiet to themselves and they are free to visualize just that life. The one with the walk-in closet, early morning kisses and pancake batters on their hair.
‘What happened?’ his voice is bordering on being panicky now. ‘Is everything alright?’
She breathes heavily through the silent tears streaming through her face, but he knows already that she’s crying. They were just that them once upon a time.
She hangs up abruptly. She can’t do this, dammit, and maybe, maybe Sam was right all along. All this is going to do is dig up unsolved things of the past.
Downstairs, Sam cooks and she cries herself to sleep.
-
The next part of the story is simple. He is Derek, happily married to a great woman, great relationship with a great best friend and the best half-sister he could ask for. He is the Head of Neurosurgery and, maybe, he’s already the Chief in some ways.
The next part of the story is simple. This is logical, the natural course of progression of events from the point of view of an emotionally content and stable man. There’s no controversy, nothing to be disagreed over.
Forget. Move on.
It’s just that simple.
-
There’s a ticket. A sleek ticket with perfect symmetry. It’s beautiful, if one might look at it from a technological point of view. At the back, there’s a woman smiling under the sun with happy journey stamped across the pine trees.
Except.
The destination reads: LAX. The ticket shakes a little in his hand.
-
He flies across the country. For her.
He shows up at her doorstep against all odds.
(i love you and i love you too and that eternal hug and the kiss that lasts forever? Doesn’t happen.)
-
She doesn’t ask any questions when he shows up. He’s let in silently and someone offers or someone asks for a glass of wine. They sit side by side on the sofa and their shoulders touch briefly as they reach for their glasses.
‘How’s Meredith?’ she asks.
He takes one look at her swollen eyes and the dark circles and unkempt hair and the sneakers and answers the question anyway.
‘She’s fine,’ he replies. ‘She just donated a part of her liver to her father. But, she’s getting back to the work routine slowly.’
She nods her head and tries to smile. ‘How are you?’ It’s his turn now.
She nods again and takes a deep breath. ‘I’m good,’ she tries to smile. ‘Sam and I have become great friends and I just performed a complex in-utero procedure. My patients are doing well and-’
She doesn’t know what she would’ve said next but he cuts her off anyway.
‘You’re wearing my sweatshirt,’ he blurts.
She turns to look at him with some surprise and he elaborates. ‘You got this for me when you went to visit your dad one summer. You,’ he coughs a little awkwardly but that look of affection is back in his eyes, ‘would wear it to sleep when I was on call because you said it smelt like me.’
He turns away a little and concentrates more on the intricate, subtle designs on his glass and the slow whirring of the washing-machine in the background.
But she still hasn’t replied twelve minutes and thirty two seconds later so he turns to look back at her. She has her face in her hands and her shoulders are shaking slightly.
The rest is instinctive. He pulls her towards himself in a quick motion and rubs her back in concentric circles until she’s sniffing and wetting his shirt with her tears.
He pushes the hair back from her face and pulls her tighter towards him. ‘Shhh,’ he whispers into her hair and it soothes her down just a little bit. ‘You’re wearing my sweatshirt, Addie. Everything will be alright.’
She believes him and slowly, her head relaxes on his shoulder and before long, she’s snoring slightly.
He sits there and strokes her hair for the rest of the night.
-
They don’t talk about it the next morning.
He smiles at her on his way to the shower and she silently hands him clean towels.
She washes her face and puts on makeup. Then she takes off the sweatshirt and goes to work.
-
He stays there for two weeks, four days and three hours.
Meredith calls him about fifteen times. There are seven frantic voicemail messages from Lexie and nine sterner ones from the Chief condoning him for being so lax in his responsibilities, especially during the merger.
There’s also an abrasive message from Cristina demanding that he get back right now, before her best friend freaks out and starts doing tequila shots and penises. There are two messages from Callie telling him to stop being a douchebag.
But he searches his phone history over and over again and there’s no call from Mark. If he were to guess, he would’ve bet his life on Mark knowing all along.
-
Their routine, when they’re both at home, is like this:
They have dinner together and talk about their day. She talks about the new patient and Naomi and Sam and how difficult pointedly ignoring Violet is getting. He talks about the sun and the beach and ‘that nice guy’ who tried to come onto him.
They make polite conversation, sprinkled with laughs and awkward pauses and punctuated with coughs.
Then, he goes to shower and she brushes his teeth as she hears him humming softly through the shower curtain.
At night, there’s a perfunctory good-night kiss and he doesn’t hog the blankets. In the morning, he wakes her up with coffee and bread and pancakes.
They fall into the routine. It’s almost like they were never apart.
-
In his defense, he does try to start a conversation once.
‘You can tell me what happened, you know.’
She shakes her head and stares fixedly at the television screen.
‘I’m trying to help. I’m trying to be here, Addie.’
Her fingers curl impulsively around her glass and he lets it go.
-
He decides to leave after the Chief threatens to fire him if he isn’t back in twenty-four hours. She sits on the couch and resolutely looks the other way as he silently packs his stuff and calls the airlines to book the latest flight.
Their last dinner is in silence and she spends the night on her couch while he lies on the bed and paints imaginary designs on the ceiling.
She calls a cab for him to take him to the airport. He looks back at her, facing the sea as the sun rises behind her, and she becomes a tiny speck.
-
People have told them that their story is out of the world. It’s a part of movies. Something about the guy and the girl and love at first sight. Something out of a Mills and Boons novel.
So, he already knows who’s calling when his phone rings ten minutes before he’s supposed to board.
It’s her and he turns back in the airport and she’s standing there, complete in high heels and impeccable make-up and ironed hair and the sweatshirt. Oh yes, the sweatshirt.
‘Come back,’ she says as she brushes off an imaginary speck of dust from his jacket. She isn’t pleading this time; her voice holds authority and layers of experience.
He smiles and nods. She sees at least that much; the promise in his eyes and assurance in his gait and he looks back just one more time before he goes.
She stands there until he’s gone, and then some more.
-
A little girl sticks her head out of the car window and closes her eyes, letting the cool wind brush her hair and make her face tickle.
She nudges her mother, who’s driving the car and points at the car in the next lane. ‘Look, Mommy!’ she exclaims in a high-pitched, excited voice and points out the window. ‘Isn’t that lady beautiful? Will my hair be red like hers when I grow up?’
Her mother tries to look away awkwardly as the lady in the car next to her hears her daughter’s screams and turns to look at them for a moment. The little girl, with flashing hair and dreams in her eyes, is still smiling away and waves frantically. Her mother tries to reprimand her for pointing at strangers but the lady in the next car doesn’t mind.
She looks gently at the little girl. She smiles.
She breathes.
End.
-
Notes: Personally, writing this was exhausting. Which is surprising, since it took me a very short period of time. I'm not sure how it ended up being, though. I tried to show a different side of the characters, and going in-depth in another direction was terrifying. The subtleties are something I'm still exploring, and your comments and con-crit would mean the world to me. There's a lot in it that I think can be explored further. I might go on that path based on your reactions, so hee.