Chapter Text
He hadn’t planned to take the ferry that day.
He usually avoided it now. Too many memories. Too many ghosts. Addison in her white coat, coffee in hand. Meredith in that navy peacoat, eyes on the water but never really seeing it.
But he needed air.
The hospital felt suffocating. The walls seemed to hum with tension—Webber breathing down his neck, Burke acting superior, Bailey glaring like she knew exactly how much of a mess he was underneath the hair and the charm.
So he boarded the ferry, headphones in, pretending the cold didn’t bite.
He found a quiet spot near the railing and leaned over, watching the water churn in the boat’s wake.
He wasn’t expecting to see them.
Meredith’s laugh reached him first.
It was small. Barely audible over the wind. But he knew it. He remembered how it used to come in bursts—unexpected and a little wild, like she was surprised she still had joy left inside her.
He turned toward the sound automatically.
And froze.
They were standing together. Meredith and Addison. Half-shadowed by the ferry’s upper deck.
They weren’t touching. But they were close.
Too close.
Meredith’s face was tilted up, flushed pink from the cold, smiling at something Addison had just said. Addison was leaning in, talking softly, her hand resting casually on the rail right beside Meredith’s.
They looked… calm.
Easy.
Like the world had quieted for them and left him behind.
Derek’s first thought was denial.
No. No, he was misreading it. They hated each other. That was the thing—the constant.
Meredith was sharp and biting and impulsive. Addison was guarded and elegant and so goddamn controlled. They had nothing in common.
Except him.
They had him in common.
Except now they didn’t.
Addison had moved into a hotel three weeks ago. Meredith hadn’t spoken to him since she’d walked out of the exam room after a consult and told him, “I’m not your secret anymore.”
And maybe she wasn’t.
Addison reached up to tuck Meredith’s hair behind her ear.
It was such a small gesture. Intimate. Natural. Like she'd done it before.
Meredith didn’t flinch.
She leaned into it.
Derek’s stomach flipped.
He knew that look in Addison’s eyes—the softness that came when she let her walls down. He’d spent years craving it, then resenting it when he realized it wasn’t his anymore.
Now she was giving it to Meredith.
And Meredith—the intern who once looked at him like he hung the damn moon—was looking at Addison like that now.
He didn’t say anything.
Didn’t storm over. Didn’t make a scene.
He just stood there, one hand gripping the metal railing tight enough his knuckles whitened, watching the two women who had defined the collapse of his life find something in each other he couldn’t touch.
Something warm. Safe. Real.
They hadn’t noticed him.
Or maybe they had—and didn’t care.
And somehow, that hurt more.
He turned away, the wind stinging his eyes, though it wasn’t quite cold enough to explain the burn.
For the first time, he realized Meredith had stopped waiting for him.
And Addison… had stopped trying to win him back.
They had stopped revolving around him entirely.
And they were still standing.
Chapter 2: After
Chapter Text
Meredith felt it before she saw it.
That shift in the air. That pressure on the back of her neck—like someone was watching.
She didn’t turn at first. She was too caught up in the way Addison’s voice dropped when she said something kind. The way the wind pulled red curls loose from her twist. The way Meredith didn’t have to fake it when she smiled around her.
It was terrifying how easy it was becoming to be near Addison now.
A few weeks ago, she’d barely been able to look at her without seeing all the ways her life had fallen apart.
But now?
Addison had seen her bleeding.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
And she hadn’t run.
Hadn’t lectured. Hadn’t pitied her.
She’d just… stayed. Quiet and steady.
So Meredith had started staying too.
Catching lunches with her in corners of the cafeteria. Sharing late-night shifts in silence that didn’t feel empty. Letting Addison stitch the cuts she couldn’t reach without ever once asking why.
Then Addison reached out—gently, instinctively—and tucked a strand of Meredith’s hair behind her ear.
The moment felt suspended. Not romantic, not quite. But tender. Like Addison didn’t know she was allowed to care that much and Meredith didn’t know how to stop her.
That’s when Meredith felt it.
The change.
The burn of a gaze.
She turned her head.
And saw Derek.
Standing on the lower deck, partially shadowed, eyes locked on them like he'd just seen something he wasn’t meant to.
He didn’t move.
Just stood there with that impossible mix of hurt and disbelief written across his face. That look that used to mean something. That used to undo her.
And Meredith’s stomach twisted.
Not with guilt.
But with fear.
Because for the first time, she wasn’t sure she cared what Derek thought.
She looked back at Addison.
Addison hadn’t noticed yet—she was still speaking, something about ferry coffee being the worst in the city. But when she noticed Meredith’s expression shift, she paused mid-sentence.
“What?” Addison asked quietly.
Meredith swallowed. Looked back down toward the railing.
Too late. He was gone.
She blinked.
“He saw us,” Meredith said softly.
Addison didn’t pretend to ask who. She just nodded once, eyes steady on hers.
“Do you want to leave?” she asked, and for the first time it wasn’t a challenge. It was care. It was permission.
Meredith shook her head. “No.”
“Are you okay?”
That answer took longer.
“I don’t know,” Meredith admitted. “But I’m not going to run.”
Addison searched her face for a moment, then nodded again. Quietly proud.
And then—just because she could—Meredith reached out and took her hand.
Addison looked down at their fingers twined together on the ferry rail.
And she didn’t let go.
Below deck, Derek stood near the exit ramp, staring at the water like it had betrayed him.
Up above, the wind blew cold around the two women he’d once broken.
But they weren’t broken anymore.
They were beginning again.