A/N: "Broken Promises for Broken Hearts" may or may not still be a work in progress; the jury's still out. Another as-yet-untitled piece is also in the works. This idea, however, just wouldn't go away.

My City of Ruins

The title for this story is taken from the song "My City of Ruins" by Bruce Springsteen.
The title for this chapter is taken from the song "Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning" by Cowboy Junkies.

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything "Grey's"-related. I'm working on it.

Chapter 1: Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning

"So what do you have scheduled today?" Addison said, frowning at a page in the Style section of the Times. She sipped the decaf latte Derek had picked up from Starbucks after his run through Central Park and flipped the page. "Ugh. I am so not going to start wearing Capri pants again. I don't care what Calvin Klein says." She looked up from the page and placed both elbows on the table, taking another sip of her latte. "So?"

"I think you'd look good in Capris," Derek replied scanning the Sports section for the box score from Sunday's Yankee game.

Addison suppressed a smile. "Thank you, sweetheart. But I meant 'so what have you got scheduled today?' Not 'so what do you think of the pending return of cropped pants?'"

He glanced up, a sheepish half-smile on his face. "Sorry." The sheepishness morphed into mischievousness. "The idea of you baring a little leg got me distracted."

She chucked. "More like the all-consuming need to see the Yankees beat the Red Sox got you a little distracted."

He grinned and closed and folded the paper, placing it on the table beside them. "Sorry," he repeated. "I didn't get a chance to check yesterday's paper. They don't have the game result from two days ago, anyway." He paused, taking a sip of his own coffee and shrugging. "Nothing interesting today. The usual. How about you?"

"I have that conference downtown, remember?"

"Right. The girly conference."

She feigned offense. "The 'Issues in Women's Health' conference."

He nodded, smiling slightly. "Right. Wasn't that what I said?"

She smiled in return and rose from the table, bending over him and placing a hand on his cheek. "You're lucky you're cute, Shepherd, you know that?"

He nodded again. "I do. Although I'm guessing that I have some other redeeming qualities besides my insanely good looks."

She scrunched up her nose and looked at the ceiling. "You would think," she replied.

"If memory serves, you seemed excessively convinced of my 'qualities' last night. Qualities, I might add, that had nothing to do with looks." He raised an eyebrow, smiling smugly as his wife blushed.

"OK, fine, you're right, you're the man." She tossed her empty coffee cup in the trashcan as she grabbed an H&H bag from the marble countertop. "Are you going to eat the last bagel?"

"Nah," he replied, shaking his head as he rose from the table. "You take it. I can grab something on the way to the office." He kissed her temple. "Besides, with all that estrogen flying around, you're going to need your strength. The only thing tougher than a room full of women is a room full of women with MD's."

"You know, on behalf of my gender, I should be offended."

"But you can't. Y'know… on account of my good looks. And my… qualities." He wiggled his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes and ignored him. "Besides, I'll have you know that not all the doctors at the conference are going to BE women. It's a conference about women's health. There will be plenty of male doctors there. Mark's even going."

"Mm," he replied, finishing what was left of his coffee and disposing of the cup in the trash. "Right. He did tell me he'd be out today. I forgot." He opened the fridge and handed her the butter as she popped the bagel into the toaster. "So how long is the conference?"

"Well, it starts at 9 and there are sessions all day until 5." She shrugged. "Rush hour, subway… I'll probably be home around 6:30."

He nodded. "OK. Well, you said you wanted to see that movie… what was the one? The scary one with Nicole Kidman?"

"The Others."

"Right. I thought maybe we could grab some dinner at Masa and see it afterward."

"Oooh, Japanese. I could so eat Japanese tonight." She paused and leaned against the counter. "But can we see a different movie?"

He shrugged. "OK. Which one?"

"Bridget Jones's Diary?" She had the good sense to look sheepish.

"Are you serious?"

She smiled. "If you say yes, I'll show you some of my … 'redeeming qualities' when we get home."

He sighed. "OK, fine." He shook his head. "Honestly, I've never known such a smart woman who loves cheesy chick-flicks like you do."

"Thank you." She pecked him on the lips as the bagel popped up and she grabbed it, hurriedly spreading a thin layer of butter on each half and glancing at her watch. "Damn. I told Mark I'd meet him at the subway station on 59th at 8:00." She tore a piece of paper towel off the roll and wrapped the bagel in it. "I'll see you later?"

He nodded. "Yep. Oh, don't forget to ask him about those tickets to the next home game, if you still want to go."

"Got it," she replied, grabbing her briefcase and keys as she blew him a kiss and pulled the door closed behind her.

He smiled slightly to himself as he wiped the bagel crumbs off the counter and into the trashcan before heading upstairs to shower. He climbed the stairs and passed through the master bedroom, entering the bathroom and turning on the shower. He returned to the bedroom while he waited for the water to heat up, grabbing a pair of clean boxers and socks from the bureau before switching on the television and changing the channel from Addison's beloved Food Network. As he headed back into the bathroom, he glanced at the clock: 8:05. He hoped his wife hadn't missed Mark; the trek downtown from the Upper West Side could take awhile during the morning rush hour, and the subway was far less tedious when you had company. He could hear the voice of the New York 1 channel's news anchor opening the news show with the standard greeting.

"Good morning, I'm Pat Kiernan and today is Tuesday, September 11, 2001."


Sun comes up, it's Tuesday morning
Hits me straight in the eye
Telephone's ringing, but I don't answer it
'Cause everybody knows that good news always sleeps 'til noon