(no subject)
Title: Oh Rest Beside the Weary Road and Hear the Angels Sing
Rating: PG
Summary: For GA Holiday Flashficathon, Prompt: Derek, "A Midnight Clear"
You have no idea why you’re here.
You'd left Meredith at the interns' party, claiming you were tired and that you'd wait up for her. That was over an hour ago, but you didn’t go back to the trailer.
You lean back against the pew and run your hands along the bench beside you. The church is empty and the choir is long gone, but the hidden speakers are playing Christmas carols.
It came upon a midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold
The music triggers memories that you try to brush aside.
After all, it’s Christmas. It’s Christmas and you have Meredith and, well, last year all you’d wanted in the world was to be with Meredith. So you got your wish, didn’t you?
You look up at the altar, at the nativity set illuminated by spotlights and the flourishing display of bright cherry-colored poinsettias.
You’d brought Meredith home a potted poinsettia, and she’d looked at you blankly. You’d wanted to explain, explain how it was the Christmas flower and in New York your house had been overflowing with them, but you’d ended up giving some lame remark about how you’d thought it was pretty and left it out on the porch.
It’s hard to believe that it’s been two years - to the day - since you last sat in a church. You wonder if that makes you a bad person.
The stained glass windows here don’t look quite as impressive as the ones you remember. But then again, this is just a little church in Seattle, not Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing
The tranquility of the music is interrupted by footsteps approaching from the side entrance, and you wonder who else would be crazy enough to come here at eleven thirty on Christmas Eve.
And now Addison is paused in the middle of the aisle, staring at you incredulously.
Neither of you says anything for a moment, and then she slides into the pew next to you, being sure to keep a safe five feet away.
“Merry Christmas,” you offer.
She nods. “Merry Christmas.”
You watch her out of the corner of your eye as she closes her eyes and leans back against the bench, tucking back a stray strand of hair the color of the poinsettia leaves.
“What are you doing here?” you ask finally, even though you already know.
She shrugs slightly. “Saint Patrick’s midnight mass.”
“They don’t have a midnight service here.” You state the obvious because you’re not sure what else to say.
“Nothing’s exactly the same here anyway,” she murmurs. “But it’s a hard habit to break.”
“We went for eleven years,” you reply.
"Fourteen,” she corrects you automatically, and gives an apologetic smile. “So aren’t you supposed to be at that party?” she asks, and only Addison has enough tact to ask about something she wasn’t invited to without sounding bitter.
“I left. I was going home but then I passed by here and it just…”
“I know.” She looks up at the altar. “I just felt like going to a church. Pretty pathetic."
“Of course not,” you say, and for the first time the realization hits you like a block of ice - she’s alone on Christmas, and it’s really nobody’s fault but yours.
As if reading your thoughts, she stands up and smoothes down her skirt. “I should get home. It was just a silly idea, stopping by here. Have a nice Christmas, Derek.”
Before you can respond, you’re watching her walk in her black dress back down the aisle of the church, towards the door.
The irony is not lost on you.
For lo! The days are hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold
“Addie.” You’re moving towards her before you realize it.
She freezes and turns to face you. “What?”
You wordlessly pull her close, and she lets out a tiny gasp as your lips softly meet hers.
“I miss you,” you whisper when you finally pull back for air. “It’s just… it’s Christmas, and I miss you.”
“Derek.” She closes her eyes momentarily. “Derek, please don’t do this to me again.”
“I had no idea why I was here. But now you're here and Addison, I still love you.”
You swore you’d never say those words again - you swore it more than once. But now the bell is striking midnight, and really, nothing’s ever seemed so clear.
Rating: PG
Summary: For GA Holiday Flashficathon, Prompt: Derek, "A Midnight Clear"
You have no idea why you’re here.
You'd left Meredith at the interns' party, claiming you were tired and that you'd wait up for her. That was over an hour ago, but you didn’t go back to the trailer.
You lean back against the pew and run your hands along the bench beside you. The church is empty and the choir is long gone, but the hidden speakers are playing Christmas carols.
It came upon a midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold
The music triggers memories that you try to brush aside.
After all, it’s Christmas. It’s Christmas and you have Meredith and, well, last year all you’d wanted in the world was to be with Meredith. So you got your wish, didn’t you?
You look up at the altar, at the nativity set illuminated by spotlights and the flourishing display of bright cherry-colored poinsettias.
You’d brought Meredith home a potted poinsettia, and she’d looked at you blankly. You’d wanted to explain, explain how it was the Christmas flower and in New York your house had been overflowing with them, but you’d ended up giving some lame remark about how you’d thought it was pretty and left it out on the porch.
It’s hard to believe that it’s been two years - to the day - since you last sat in a church. You wonder if that makes you a bad person.
The stained glass windows here don’t look quite as impressive as the ones you remember. But then again, this is just a little church in Seattle, not Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing
The tranquility of the music is interrupted by footsteps approaching from the side entrance, and you wonder who else would be crazy enough to come here at eleven thirty on Christmas Eve.
And now Addison is paused in the middle of the aisle, staring at you incredulously.
Neither of you says anything for a moment, and then she slides into the pew next to you, being sure to keep a safe five feet away.
“Merry Christmas,” you offer.
She nods. “Merry Christmas.”
You watch her out of the corner of your eye as she closes her eyes and leans back against the bench, tucking back a stray strand of hair the color of the poinsettia leaves.
“What are you doing here?” you ask finally, even though you already know.
She shrugs slightly. “Saint Patrick’s midnight mass.”
“They don’t have a midnight service here.” You state the obvious because you’re not sure what else to say.
“Nothing’s exactly the same here anyway,” she murmurs. “But it’s a hard habit to break.”
“We went for eleven years,” you reply.
"Fourteen,” she corrects you automatically, and gives an apologetic smile. “So aren’t you supposed to be at that party?” she asks, and only Addison has enough tact to ask about something she wasn’t invited to without sounding bitter.
“I left. I was going home but then I passed by here and it just…”
“I know.” She looks up at the altar. “I just felt like going to a church. Pretty pathetic."
“Of course not,” you say, and for the first time the realization hits you like a block of ice - she’s alone on Christmas, and it’s really nobody’s fault but yours.
As if reading your thoughts, she stands up and smoothes down her skirt. “I should get home. It was just a silly idea, stopping by here. Have a nice Christmas, Derek.”
Before you can respond, you’re watching her walk in her black dress back down the aisle of the church, towards the door.
The irony is not lost on you.
For lo! The days are hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold
“Addie.” You’re moving towards her before you realize it.
She freezes and turns to face you. “What?”
You wordlessly pull her close, and she lets out a tiny gasp as your lips softly meet hers.
“I miss you,” you whisper when you finally pull back for air. “It’s just… it’s Christmas, and I miss you.”
“Derek.” She closes her eyes momentarily. “Derek, please don’t do this to me again.”
“I had no idea why I was here. But now you're here and Addison, I still love you.”
You swore you’d never say those words again - you swore it more than once. But now the bell is striking midnight, and really, nothing’s ever seemed so clear.