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Twelve by socalwriter
He woke to the feeling of her eyes on him.
Derek could always tell when Addison was watching him. He didn't need to know she was even in the same building as him
to recognize the pull he felt when his wife's gaze was fixed on him.
He turned onto his side, eyes still closed. Then he felt the bed shift as Addison climbed out of it. He knew she was
pulling on her robe from the "swoosh" of the fabric in the silent room. He knew she was trying not to wake him
because of the quiet whisper she used to bid Doc to come with her.
When the door closed behind his wife and their dog, Derek opened his eyes.
She was nervous. The worry had been a palpable presence in the room. She didn't want to have any expectations for today,
but knowing Addie, it was hard to imagine she didn't. And knowing their situation, the bottom of the range probably started
with the simplicity of him remembering. The far end of the spectrum was a hope for some romance, a grand gesture perhaps
on his part.
Her lowest expectation was met. He remembered. Derek wondered what she'd think if he told her everything he remembered.
[i]Talking Weiss into taking her ring shopping for Savvy so he could get an idea of what she might want.
Buying the ring... then opening the box every five minutes while he waited to give it to her to reassure himself it was
just right.
The look on her face when he'd asked.
The way she had looked in her grandmother's gown.
Making love on the beach in Bermuda until the sun rose on their honeymoon.[/i]
There were a million other specific details of their life together "pre-Mark" that Derek cherished as memories,
that he should've thought to talk about more with her before the chasm between them had become so big and things had gotten
so bad.
They had spent 11 sets of birthdays together as a married couple, 11 Christmases, 11 Thanksgivings. But they had not
spent their 11th anniversary together. By then, Derek had been in Seattle trying to figure out where he was going to live
as he tried to start life post-Addison.
Funny thing about marriage vows, though. They didn't just disappear because you willed them to. If you didn't do something
to end the marriage, it was still alive. It was there, waiting for you to turn back, pay attention, evaluate how you felt
about it and then make a decision on whether it stayed alive or perished.
It should have told him something that he'd never even called a lawyer to discuss filing for divorce. But Derek had been
so determined not to think about his wife "post-Mark" that he'd blamed his inaction on avoiding her. God forbid
it be that he wasn't ready to let go, that he didn't have it in him to hate his wife. Worse yet, he couldn't even entertain
the thought that what had held him back from drawing up papers, from filing them, from signing the ones that Addison herself
had presented him was the most painful possibility of all...
He still loved his wife.
Yes, he had found Meredith somewhere between New York and Addison's return to his life. And what he felt for her seemed
to him very real. But when he'd been confronted with the choice between his new romance and his marriage, what had he chosen?
His marriage.
They had spent their 12th Thanksgiving together, their 12th Christmas, their 12th set of birthdays.
And now it was their 12th anniversary, and his wife was terrified he wouldn't care, and Derek was wondering how to show
her he did.
They weren't ready for the big gesture. They weren't ready for an overdone night of romance. But they were married,
and it was their anniversary, and it mattered.
[i]It mattered because he still loved to look up in the O.R. and see her watching him work, feeling her admiration for
him as a doctor and a man simultaneously.
It mattered because even though he had been obsessed with finding out if Meredith was okay or not after the Code Black,
later, as he'd been driving home, he'd recalled the look on his wife's face as she had raced toward him in the hallway when
the emergency was over. Relief like that only came from true, intense love. It came from a woman who had been terrified
for hours that she would lose the man she loved.
It mattered because sometimes there was nothing Derek wanted more than to come home and crawl into bed and lay beside
her to give himself something beautiful to look at after an ugly, painful day at work.[/i]
Derek rose from the bed and walked to the dresser. The top drawer was messy--a sure sign that he, and not Addison, had
put away the last load of laundry. But he knew the box would still be in the back of the drawer.
He pulled on his robe and dropped the box in his pocket. Then Derek Shepherd headed out to the kitchen and started a
pot of coffee. The brew was half done when Addison opened the door and Doc trotted back in, racing to Derek for some affection
before he moved to his water dish.
"Wanted some quality outside time this morning, huh?" he asked. Addison shivered and shook her head.
"He was obsessed with finding the exact stick I threw, which happened to land in a group of sticks. It took him
a bit of time."
She smiled nervously and sat down at the table. Derek watched as she pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest
on the bench seat.
"Thanks for doing the coffee."
He smiled. "No problem."
Derek took two cups and used the delay function on the pot to fill them both. Then he moved to the table and joined his
wife. She took the cup of coffee he offered and added sugar from the bowl on the table. He took a sip of his dark, plain
java, then he reached over and took her right hand in his. The green eyes that had been focused on her coffee cup now lifted
anxiously.
"So... happy anniversary."
Her smile at his words made his heart leap a little. And again, Derek remembered why he was here, why there was a 12th
year. You can't let go of a woman who still does that to your heart with a smile.
"Number 12 by the skin of our teeth."
He nodded in agreement with the honesty of her statement. "Indeed."
"I, uh... I got you something," she admitted, her teeth nipping at her lower lip. "I know we aren't really
ready for a big to-do, but I just... I wanted to get you something, so..."
Addison stood and pulled her hand away to go back into the bedroom. She returned with a medium-sized box that was wrapped
in her usual elegant fashion in navy blue paper with silver and white ribbon on it. She placed the box in front of him.
"Happy anniversary."
Derek opened the package carefully, enjoying doing so more than he had expected to. He loved that she had gotten him
a gift. He loved more that they were on the same page... that they were ready to commemorate but not quite ready to celebrate.
"Antique lures?"
He was truly surprised. Addison shrugged and grinned.
"I know I'm not the biggest fan of your fishing, but... I can tell you've really fallen in love with it, and I called
my dad and he said that a fisherman needs some quality lures, and that antique lures were better than new ones. So... there
you go."
He chuckled, knowing his smile was wide and bordering on goofy as he looked at the gift, truly touched that she'd taken
notice of something he loved even if she didn't.
"I can't wait to use them," he said. "But no fishing today, I promise. No fishing on anniversaries."
She laughed. "Okay, that is a deal."
Derek lifted his right hand from the fine antique wood that encased his gift and he reached into his pocket. The box
he had placed their earlier came easily into his fingers and he pulled it free.
"I didn't buy you anything," he said. "But I do have something for you."
Addison looked at him curiously as he pushed the small, simple metal box toward her. She opened it slowly, but Derek
knew the exact moment when she realized what was inside. He lifted his left hand then, and he extended it toward her.
"Happy Anniversary, Addison."
12 years after she had done it the first time, Derek's wife slid the simple platinum band onto his ring finger, working
it just a little to get it over his knuckle. Addie held firmly to his hand as she stood and moved over to ease her body onto
his lap.
"For better or worse," she said, her eyes locking with his.
Derek sighed as she wrapped her arms around him and he sank against her body, finally confessing to her what he'd come
to terms with in his own analysis of their marriage.
"More better than worse, Addie. That's why we're still here."
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