"Disappear"
Part: 6/?
Pairings: Mark/Addison, Derek/Addison, Derek/Meredith, George/Callie, and eventually Alex/Izzie.
Rating: Harmless
Disclaimer: This is not necessarily a happy fic. Subject matter will gradually become more difficult before eventually lightening. Canon character deaths.
Additional Disclaimer: I do not own anything about these characters.
Summary: This section contains Addison and Cristina.
Previous Parts can be found in my journal. Enjoy!
Previous parts are here: http://xyliette.livejournal.com/
A/N: This section, or round as I like to call them, takes a slightly different approach and has every character pairing their current lives with their memories of ten years ago. I wouldn't say this round is exactly joyful either but I tried to lighten it a little because I basically made up a whole lot of back-story and guesses on approx. ages.
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She hates that she doesn’t want to be near him. She hates that he would instantly settle for any amount of time that she would give. She hates that he would be ecstatic to go shopping with her, if it meant he could see her. She hates that she feels like the worst wife in the world. She hates being the failure that she knows she is. Tonight, she is avoiding going home. Dreading going home. She spends most of her nights in on-call rooms hoping for a run in with her ex. It is wrong, she knows that. It consumes her. He has always had this effect on her.
She was happy ten years ago. Ten years ago, such a long time, she muses as she shakes her head. It feels like another lifetime. She isn’t that person anymore. Not by a long shot. She was happy once. Every now and then she likes to think about what it was like being married to him. She likes to daydream of the good old days. Days when things were uncomplicated, and carefree. At least, as carefree as the life of a surgeon can be. She chucks aside the thoughts of when her marriage started to landslide. Refuses to think about the night with Mark and everything with him since then. If she can push all of that aside she remembers a time when she was truly happy. Genuinely at her best. Her best was with him. Yet another shameful memory. She shouldn’t remember these things; she shouldn’t like to think of them. But ten years ago she was the happiest person in the world.
She would give both of her hands to go back to that time. She would give both of her feet if she could go back and save their marriage. Try harder, make him talk, figure out what went wrong. None of it is possible, she is well aware. But somewhere along the lines her reality, dreams, and memories of better times got blurred. They are intertwined and tangled with one another. She can’t have one without the others. They are painfully snared and twisted.
Ten years ago they were residents. Happily married residents. They were “Addison & Derek”, or “Derek & Addison” he would always argue. Nothing could stop them; nothing could bring them down as long as they had one another. She felt like she could conquer the world. And she did, at least her professional one. But he struggled and faltered at times in his climb. Every so often she wonders if this was their downfall. She hates to think the thing that brought them together in the beginning ended up being their demise. She always wanted to question when the downhill slide began. She tried to pinpoint the moment but it was too gradual to ever notice. Frustrated with never getting an answer she set out and found her own solution. The cost was high, and the victory short lived. She hurt herself, him, and her current husband. The kind of hurt; the kind of brokenness one does not readily recover from. She can’t fix him or their marriage, let alone herself.
There are things she could do to make it easier on them. Things to make their days go smoother. But she won‘t. He deserves the answers to the questions he asks. It would be the least she could do. Actually the least she could do would be to clean up her act and stop talking, flirting, and staring at her ex. He deserves better than her, and she hates herself for it. Her pit of despair brings on fits of endless depression. But he stays, he always stays with her. At her worst, in her darkest hours he has been there. He has seen it all with her, except happiness. Tonight as she crawls to “her spot” on the edge of the bed and curls into a ball, she ponders giving him joy. What it would take for her to be happy. One can’t stay depressed, bitter, and remorseful all of the time, it is exhausting.
As he reaches for her, she relents for the night and lets him pull her back into his chest. She can’t help but think how wrong it feels in his arms. It felt right once, but not anymore. She was looking to replace someone that was and is irreplaceable in her life. She hates that she has settled for what she now knows is second best. It is a cruel vicious cycle and she feels caught. She is locked in her own hell. As he leans over, kisses her temple, and whispers how much he loves her she wonders if all she ever needed to do was give him a real chance. Maybe she can be happy again, like she was ten years ago. Maybe happier. So tonight as she drifts off to sleep, embraced by his tight hug, she tries to dream of them. Being together, laughing with him, making memories with him, and only wanting her husband. This option proves draining too. So instead she resorts to trying to figure out which is the lesser of the two evils that keeps her awake at night. Which one would be easier to manage and resolve. It will be another sleepless night in his arms. She tries to fend off the feelings of knowing exactly where she would have been sleeping ten years ago.
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She hates her son. She hates her unborn daughter. Hell, she even hates herself. She hates that she hates herself. She hates that she even can have these sorts of feelings. Ten years ago, she wouldn’t have felt like this. Ten years ago she wouldn’t have become hung up on some stupid man who stopped her world and showed her something so much brighter.
Tonight she is giving her son a bath, and trying to breathe through the beginning of contractions. As if pretending they aren’t there changes the fact that she will soon have to give birth. She can’t believe she is even considering believing they don’t exist. Ten years ago she wouldn’t have done that. Ten years ago she was free. Tied and bound only by school. She was excited by the prospect of going. She had been working her whole life towards it. And slowly, after much effort her dream was emerging. She was so close she could taste it. She can’t figure out why she stayed in California to go to med school. She had offers from everywhere. Everyone wanted her, Cristina Yang, to bring what she could to their school. But she gave in to her annoying, and now ever helpful, mother and stayed where she belonged. That would in turn end up shaking her world in ways she didn’t know was possible.
She wonders what would have happened if she would have accepted an offer from anywhere other than Seattle. Sometime she regrets moving to the rain capitol of the world. But at the time it suited her. She needed something as drab and serious as she was. She needed to stay focused, but life had some other plans. Until him, she never believed. Ten years ago she didn’t believe in something bigger than medicine, that sort of thing couldn’t exist. But he showed her, patiently as always, that life does as it pleases and we are only bystanders. She has reverted back to original thinking these days that in this shitty world there is nothing that has anything to do with fate. She chalks coincidences up to stupid mistakes, and unfortunate chains of events. Unfortunate that she found love once again and lost it, painfully. She is beginning to lose herself. She thinks she is losing her mind, but she supposes that it is only part of the grieving process.
If she could, she would take a pill to speed this process right along. As she washes her son’s black curly hair and shields his eyes from the soapy mixture on her hands, she realizes that she has no idea on how to move forward. It has been about a month, and she hasn’t recovered. She hasn’t even come to terms with the fact that he is gone. Breathing through another contraction she thinks, he is gone, really really gone. No more trumpet playing to our son, no more bedtime stories with the three of us, no more stealing his scrub caps, no more anything. She hates the thought so much she can hardly breathe and grips the edge of the porcelain white tub firmly. As her shaking hands dial her mother’s familiar number she knows that the last ten years were not a complete waste. If anything, she has a relationship with a woman she once despised with every ounce of her being. Some things were a complete waste, including the mess she is going to have to deal with sooner or later.
Ten years ago she would have refused to believe that some silly and wonderful man would ruin all of her hopes and dreams. That he would be able to shoot down everything she ever wanted to do and be. That he would change her irrevocably. She winces as they stroll her down the corridor of the hospital where he husband died. The spot where she stood next to elevator completely out of her mind trying not to pass out. Ten years ago she would not have been beside herself with emotion; she would have neatly tucked them away and saved them for another time. This is not one of those times. She lets the tears fall freely as they enter the elevator. She wants to blame it all on the pain of labor, and the emotion of pregnancy. But that is about the furthest she can get from the truth. She cries for him, for herself. She cries because she is finally realizing how permanent their position has become. She cries because she knows that he will never touch her, hold her, talk to her, sing to her, or play with her. As the doors fling open and she is wheeled towards a rather exhausted looking chief she cries because she can’t get any of it back, and the memories of him are beginning to slip her mind. Ten years ago, this would have been the furthest possible scenario she could come up with for her life. So instead she cries because she wants so badly to go back to ten years ago.
Pairings: Mark/Addison, Derek/Addison, Derek/Meredith, George/Callie, and eventually Alex/Izzie.
Rating: Harmless
Disclaimer: This is not necessarily a happy fic. Subject matter will gradually become more difficult before eventually lightening. Canon character deaths.
Additional Disclaimer: I do not own anything about these characters.
Summary: This section contains Addison and Cristina.
Previous Parts can be found in my journal. Enjoy!
Previous parts are here: http://xyliette.livejournal.com/
A/N: This section, or round as I like to call them, takes a slightly different approach and has every character pairing their current lives with their memories of ten years ago. I wouldn't say this round is exactly joyful either but I tried to lighten it a little because I basically made up a whole lot of back-story and guesses on approx. ages.
****************************************
She hates that she doesn’t want to be near him. She hates that he would instantly settle for any amount of time that she would give. She hates that he would be ecstatic to go shopping with her, if it meant he could see her. She hates that she feels like the worst wife in the world. She hates being the failure that she knows she is. Tonight, she is avoiding going home. Dreading going home. She spends most of her nights in on-call rooms hoping for a run in with her ex. It is wrong, she knows that. It consumes her. He has always had this effect on her.
She was happy ten years ago. Ten years ago, such a long time, she muses as she shakes her head. It feels like another lifetime. She isn’t that person anymore. Not by a long shot. She was happy once. Every now and then she likes to think about what it was like being married to him. She likes to daydream of the good old days. Days when things were uncomplicated, and carefree. At least, as carefree as the life of a surgeon can be. She chucks aside the thoughts of when her marriage started to landslide. Refuses to think about the night with Mark and everything with him since then. If she can push all of that aside she remembers a time when she was truly happy. Genuinely at her best. Her best was with him. Yet another shameful memory. She shouldn’t remember these things; she shouldn’t like to think of them. But ten years ago she was the happiest person in the world.
She would give both of her hands to go back to that time. She would give both of her feet if she could go back and save their marriage. Try harder, make him talk, figure out what went wrong. None of it is possible, she is well aware. But somewhere along the lines her reality, dreams, and memories of better times got blurred. They are intertwined and tangled with one another. She can’t have one without the others. They are painfully snared and twisted.
Ten years ago they were residents. Happily married residents. They were “Addison & Derek”, or “Derek & Addison” he would always argue. Nothing could stop them; nothing could bring them down as long as they had one another. She felt like she could conquer the world. And she did, at least her professional one. But he struggled and faltered at times in his climb. Every so often she wonders if this was their downfall. She hates to think the thing that brought them together in the beginning ended up being their demise. She always wanted to question when the downhill slide began. She tried to pinpoint the moment but it was too gradual to ever notice. Frustrated with never getting an answer she set out and found her own solution. The cost was high, and the victory short lived. She hurt herself, him, and her current husband. The kind of hurt; the kind of brokenness one does not readily recover from. She can’t fix him or their marriage, let alone herself.
There are things she could do to make it easier on them. Things to make their days go smoother. But she won‘t. He deserves the answers to the questions he asks. It would be the least she could do. Actually the least she could do would be to clean up her act and stop talking, flirting, and staring at her ex. He deserves better than her, and she hates herself for it. Her pit of despair brings on fits of endless depression. But he stays, he always stays with her. At her worst, in her darkest hours he has been there. He has seen it all with her, except happiness. Tonight as she crawls to “her spot” on the edge of the bed and curls into a ball, she ponders giving him joy. What it would take for her to be happy. One can’t stay depressed, bitter, and remorseful all of the time, it is exhausting.
As he reaches for her, she relents for the night and lets him pull her back into his chest. She can’t help but think how wrong it feels in his arms. It felt right once, but not anymore. She was looking to replace someone that was and is irreplaceable in her life. She hates that she has settled for what she now knows is second best. It is a cruel vicious cycle and she feels caught. She is locked in her own hell. As he leans over, kisses her temple, and whispers how much he loves her she wonders if all she ever needed to do was give him a real chance. Maybe she can be happy again, like she was ten years ago. Maybe happier. So tonight as she drifts off to sleep, embraced by his tight hug, she tries to dream of them. Being together, laughing with him, making memories with him, and only wanting her husband. This option proves draining too. So instead she resorts to trying to figure out which is the lesser of the two evils that keeps her awake at night. Which one would be easier to manage and resolve. It will be another sleepless night in his arms. She tries to fend off the feelings of knowing exactly where she would have been sleeping ten years ago.
****************************************
She hates her son. She hates her unborn daughter. Hell, she even hates herself. She hates that she hates herself. She hates that she even can have these sorts of feelings. Ten years ago, she wouldn’t have felt like this. Ten years ago she wouldn’t have become hung up on some stupid man who stopped her world and showed her something so much brighter.
Tonight she is giving her son a bath, and trying to breathe through the beginning of contractions. As if pretending they aren’t there changes the fact that she will soon have to give birth. She can’t believe she is even considering believing they don’t exist. Ten years ago she wouldn’t have done that. Ten years ago she was free. Tied and bound only by school. She was excited by the prospect of going. She had been working her whole life towards it. And slowly, after much effort her dream was emerging. She was so close she could taste it. She can’t figure out why she stayed in California to go to med school. She had offers from everywhere. Everyone wanted her, Cristina Yang, to bring what she could to their school. But she gave in to her annoying, and now ever helpful, mother and stayed where she belonged. That would in turn end up shaking her world in ways she didn’t know was possible.
She wonders what would have happened if she would have accepted an offer from anywhere other than Seattle. Sometime she regrets moving to the rain capitol of the world. But at the time it suited her. She needed something as drab and serious as she was. She needed to stay focused, but life had some other plans. Until him, she never believed. Ten years ago she didn’t believe in something bigger than medicine, that sort of thing couldn’t exist. But he showed her, patiently as always, that life does as it pleases and we are only bystanders. She has reverted back to original thinking these days that in this shitty world there is nothing that has anything to do with fate. She chalks coincidences up to stupid mistakes, and unfortunate chains of events. Unfortunate that she found love once again and lost it, painfully. She is beginning to lose herself. She thinks she is losing her mind, but she supposes that it is only part of the grieving process.
If she could, she would take a pill to speed this process right along. As she washes her son’s black curly hair and shields his eyes from the soapy mixture on her hands, she realizes that she has no idea on how to move forward. It has been about a month, and she hasn’t recovered. She hasn’t even come to terms with the fact that he is gone. Breathing through another contraction she thinks, he is gone, really really gone. No more trumpet playing to our son, no more bedtime stories with the three of us, no more stealing his scrub caps, no more anything. She hates the thought so much she can hardly breathe and grips the edge of the porcelain white tub firmly. As her shaking hands dial her mother’s familiar number she knows that the last ten years were not a complete waste. If anything, she has a relationship with a woman she once despised with every ounce of her being. Some things were a complete waste, including the mess she is going to have to deal with sooner or later.
Ten years ago she would have refused to believe that some silly and wonderful man would ruin all of her hopes and dreams. That he would be able to shoot down everything she ever wanted to do and be. That he would change her irrevocably. She winces as they stroll her down the corridor of the hospital where he husband died. The spot where she stood next to elevator completely out of her mind trying not to pass out. Ten years ago she would not have been beside herself with emotion; she would have neatly tucked them away and saved them for another time. This is not one of those times. She lets the tears fall freely as they enter the elevator. She wants to blame it all on the pain of labor, and the emotion of pregnancy. But that is about the furthest she can get from the truth. She cries for him, for herself. She cries because she is finally realizing how permanent their position has become. She cries because she knows that he will never touch her, hold her, talk to her, sing to her, or play with her. As the doors fling open and she is wheeled towards a rather exhausted looking chief she cries because she can’t get any of it back, and the memories of him are beginning to slip her mind. Ten years ago, this would have been the furthest possible scenario she could come up with for her life. So instead she cries because she wants so badly to go back to ten years ago.