"This Ruined Puzzle"
Part: 2/?
Pairing: Derek/Addison.
Rating: R-ish...again.
Authors: A group effort by Hannah (
escapismrocks) and Sarah (
xyliette).
Description: We start with some history, then weave carefully around cannon, and finally head completely A/U.
Disclaimer: None of the characters within this fiction are ours.
Give it a shot because we can't reveal too much within the description.
A/N: So we may have confused some of you but as we progress things will become clearer. Hope you enjoy it, let us know what you think!
~~~~~~~~~~“It's the way she fills my senses
It's the perfume that she wears
I feel I'm losing my defenses
To the color of her hair
She's the puzzle of my heart”
-Westlife- “Puzzle of My Heart”
Ten years ago, if someone would have told me that I would be rushing to their house after work for this specific purpose, I would have laughed in their faces. But I am, and as I sit in the taxi and try to figure out why, the answer seems simple. I have always loved her. Maybe she had a hunch that the innocent flirting that had been going on for years had meant more than it seemed. But I never expected this. They were both so in love, so wrapped up in each other, and then it happened. Someplace in that decade of togetherness something changed. They evolved, we evolved, morphed into work driven creatures as life outside the hospital began passing us by. One day Addie woke up. She began fighting to get back what they were losing; it all fell on deaf ears. And again, I’m not quite sure but I would guess that it was truly six months ago when she gave up. Actually, I know it was six months ago because that was the first night we kissed as more than just friends. Over one hundred and eighty days ago she broke and poured her heart out to me. She thought she was disappearing, that nobody could see her anymore. I told her she was wrong, she wasn’t the one disappearing, Derek was. And as quickly as that spilled out of my mouth, the rest followed in liquid motion. Hands touched, lips interlocked, and the more intimate parts of my best friend’s wife became common knowledge to me.
Six months almost exactly to the day, and I was late. I knew how she hated to be kept waiting, that’s how their downfall started, and she was scared it would happen again. Twenty minutes later than planned I trudge through the downpour up their steps and use the spare key she has given me to open the door. The house is in relative darkness, except for a flickering light in the dining room. She doesn’t make a sound, but I know she’s in there because I can see the shadow of her hand reaching for a wine glass against the wall. I shake off the remaining rain, kick off my shoes, and follow the iridescent silhouette to where she sits. I stand close behind her and she never even acknowledges my presence except for an adjustment in posture. I want to tell her I’m sorry that I’m late, I was stuck in an emergency surgery on a little boy who had been burned in a house fire. Even though it is the truth and she would undoubtedly believe me, I know that she is so sick of waiting for life to happen to her that this won’t make a difference. I wrap my arms around her shoulders hoping to relieve some of her pain but as the words slip out of my mouth she pushes me away with her own harsh retort, placing an empty wine glass on the table.
I just can’t stand it anymore, watching her hurt behind the front of an icy exterior, praying that the smallest amount of my love might just thaw her at the edges. I pull her chair back swiftly and kiss her with everything I have; every feeling in my being that I want to show her. It’s heated, and hungry, because it’s been days since I last touched her. For days I watched him kiss her cheek in a hurried goodbye and for years I’ve watched him ignore the love that I would so deeply cherish. So things move fast and before I know what’s happening we are at the bottom of the stairs. My hands are running up her sides, our bodies as close as we can possibly achieve, in hope that maybe the contact will show her how much I care. We both need this intimacy. Her fingers run through my hair, and it makes every other follicle on my body stand on its end. We do this dance until we reach the bottom step, and I manage to regain enough control of my senses to remove her skirt, because God knows this woman intoxicated me years ago.
I hold my warm breath in the back of my throat because beneath it she’s naked and I briefly wonder how she would explain the absent panties to a husband who hasn’t shared a bed with her for a little over two weeks never mind a husband who hasn’t had the pleasure of lifting her up and carrying her to their room in maybe months. So I relish the moment as she pulls at my jacket, and then my shirt, devouring my mouth with her own. It’s all become almost second nature, but she’s still as breath taking as that very first time she allowed me to see her this way. Together we gently descend as I lay her back on their bed. A pang of guilt hits me as I shed my remaining clothing but I quickly forget it. It’s his fault that he lets her slip through his fingers, and my good fortune that she happened to fall into mine. The rest of it becomes a blur because all I see is her ivory skin, all I hear are her soft gentle moans, and she smells like nothing on Earth. The touch of her hand on my face as she locks eyes with mine is almost enough to make me lose it right then. I pull back slightly and it’s a relief to sober up for a brief moment as she slides herself into my lap, and I guide myself into her, as she gasps out my name.
“Mark!”
~~~~~~~~~~
Part 3. Pick up the fragments and piece them together.
Pairing: Derek/Addison.
Rating: R-ish...again.
Authors: A group effort by Hannah (
escapismrocks) and Sarah (
xyliette).
Description: We start with some history, then weave carefully around cannon, and finally head completely A/U.
Disclaimer: None of the characters within this fiction are ours.
Give it a shot because we can't reveal too much within the description.
A/N: So we may have confused some of you but as we progress things will become clearer. Hope you enjoy it, let us know what you think!
~~~~~~~~~~“It's the way she fills my senses
It's the perfume that she wears
I feel I'm losing my defenses
To the color of her hair
She's the puzzle of my heart”
-Westlife- “Puzzle of My Heart”
Ten years ago, if someone would have told me that I would be rushing to their house after work for this specific purpose, I would have laughed in their faces. But I am, and as I sit in the taxi and try to figure out why, the answer seems simple. I have always loved her. Maybe she had a hunch that the innocent flirting that had been going on for years had meant more than it seemed. But I never expected this. They were both so in love, so wrapped up in each other, and then it happened. Someplace in that decade of togetherness something changed. They evolved, we evolved, morphed into work driven creatures as life outside the hospital began passing us by. One day Addie woke up. She began fighting to get back what they were losing; it all fell on deaf ears. And again, I’m not quite sure but I would guess that it was truly six months ago when she gave up. Actually, I know it was six months ago because that was the first night we kissed as more than just friends. Over one hundred and eighty days ago she broke and poured her heart out to me. She thought she was disappearing, that nobody could see her anymore. I told her she was wrong, she wasn’t the one disappearing, Derek was. And as quickly as that spilled out of my mouth, the rest followed in liquid motion. Hands touched, lips interlocked, and the more intimate parts of my best friend’s wife became common knowledge to me.
Six months almost exactly to the day, and I was late. I knew how she hated to be kept waiting, that’s how their downfall started, and she was scared it would happen again. Twenty minutes later than planned I trudge through the downpour up their steps and use the spare key she has given me to open the door. The house is in relative darkness, except for a flickering light in the dining room. She doesn’t make a sound, but I know she’s in there because I can see the shadow of her hand reaching for a wine glass against the wall. I shake off the remaining rain, kick off my shoes, and follow the iridescent silhouette to where she sits. I stand close behind her and she never even acknowledges my presence except for an adjustment in posture. I want to tell her I’m sorry that I’m late, I was stuck in an emergency surgery on a little boy who had been burned in a house fire. Even though it is the truth and she would undoubtedly believe me, I know that she is so sick of waiting for life to happen to her that this won’t make a difference. I wrap my arms around her shoulders hoping to relieve some of her pain but as the words slip out of my mouth she pushes me away with her own harsh retort, placing an empty wine glass on the table.
I just can’t stand it anymore, watching her hurt behind the front of an icy exterior, praying that the smallest amount of my love might just thaw her at the edges. I pull her chair back swiftly and kiss her with everything I have; every feeling in my being that I want to show her. It’s heated, and hungry, because it’s been days since I last touched her. For days I watched him kiss her cheek in a hurried goodbye and for years I’ve watched him ignore the love that I would so deeply cherish. So things move fast and before I know what’s happening we are at the bottom of the stairs. My hands are running up her sides, our bodies as close as we can possibly achieve, in hope that maybe the contact will show her how much I care. We both need this intimacy. Her fingers run through my hair, and it makes every other follicle on my body stand on its end. We do this dance until we reach the bottom step, and I manage to regain enough control of my senses to remove her skirt, because God knows this woman intoxicated me years ago.
I hold my warm breath in the back of my throat because beneath it she’s naked and I briefly wonder how she would explain the absent panties to a husband who hasn’t shared a bed with her for a little over two weeks never mind a husband who hasn’t had the pleasure of lifting her up and carrying her to their room in maybe months. So I relish the moment as she pulls at my jacket, and then my shirt, devouring my mouth with her own. It’s all become almost second nature, but she’s still as breath taking as that very first time she allowed me to see her this way. Together we gently descend as I lay her back on their bed. A pang of guilt hits me as I shed my remaining clothing but I quickly forget it. It’s his fault that he lets her slip through his fingers, and my good fortune that she happened to fall into mine. The rest of it becomes a blur because all I see is her ivory skin, all I hear are her soft gentle moans, and she smells like nothing on Earth. The touch of her hand on my face as she locks eyes with mine is almost enough to make me lose it right then. I pull back slightly and it’s a relief to sober up for a brief moment as she slides herself into my lap, and I guide myself into her, as she gasps out my name.
“Mark!”
~~~~~~~~~~
Part 3. Pick up the fragments and piece them together.