Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy, et al.

This is a one-shot split into four pieces from Derek's POV during the weeks after his marriage to Addison fell apart and he began to seek a new life for himself. I'll warn you it is mostly stream of consciousness, but he was really destitute and literally had no one, so he needed to work things out for himself.

The only reason why I wrote this ficlet is because of this beautiful ballad from James Morrison called, "The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore", and for some reason it always makes me think of a heart-broken Derek Shepherd, listen if you have the means.

Lyrics to James Morrison's "The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore":

I've been twisting and turning,
In a space that's too small.
I've been drawing the line and watching it fall,
You've been closing me in, closing the space in my heart.
Watching us fading and watching it all fall apart.

Chorus
Well I can't explain why it's not enough, 'Cause I gave it all to you.
And if you leave me now, oh just leave me now.
It's the better thing to do,
It's time to surrender,
It's been too long pretending.
There's no use in trying,
When the pieces don't fit anymore, Pieces don't fit here anymore.

You pulled me under,
If I had to give in.
Such a beautiful myth,
That's breaking my skin.
Well I'll hide all the bruises,
I'll hide all the damage that's done.
But I show how I'm feeling until all the feeling has gone.

(Chorus)

Ooh don't misunderstand,
How I feel.
'Cause I've tried, yes I've tried.
But still I don't know why, no I don't know why.
I don't know why...... why!

Part 1 of 4

Sitting on the small porch of his brand new GulfStream trailer on his newly purchased forty acres of Seattle's best land, Derek Shepherd was convinced he stark raving mad. This had to be his worst idea yet, who knew so much rain could fall and fall and fall, infinitely from the sky? His land broker knew for sure, but that commission for sure stopped him from heeding a much needed warning. He thought of the idea when he was packing up his most prized possessions from that God-forsaken brownstone – or the pit of hell as he recently started to call it – he shared with his soon to be ex-wife. Of course he wouldn't leave New York without his original, signed copy of "The Sun Also Rises", even if she-who-shall-not-be-named gave it to him as a present when they graduated from medical school all those years ago. Poised for greatness, they were. Yeah, right!

Except, when he ran his hand over the worn leather cover of the book that day, he sought inspiration from Hemingway, who was known for returning to the earth and the country and his roots to combat the battles of deep depression he suffered from throughout his lifetime. Even though Hemingway eventually committed suicide to cancel the pain – an idea that had never crossed Derek's mind – the thought of living a more minimalist lifestyle, slowing down to appreciate life, clearing his head and starting over, sounded more than appealing. So appealing in fact, the first thing he did was hire the land broker to show him around. And he had to admit, even with all the 'coons and other industrious wild life trying to encroach on his hospitality, he was relieved to be here and not have to talk to anyone. About anything. At all.

The nearby ferry boat was an added bonus, what a way to seek clarity, who needed therapy with a ferry boat around? He always had a thing for ferry boats, so did his father. His father always said, 'Nothing can clear your head like a ride on a ferry boat.' Now, in a time when he really did need to clear his head – and hell, he knew he would need a lot of clarity in the coming weeks when he started at Seattle Grace – he relished the thought of those ferry boat rides. They would help him remain focused; he didn't need any added distractions. He would have enough distraction as it and so far he had done pretty well at compartmentalizing his problems from his past. He coached himself now – just smile and be the hot shot neuro-guy from New York everyone is expecting – what could be so hard about that, he was that guy, professionally at least.

Hell, he had pretended for so long with his personal life, he could easily do that too. He once loved Addison enough to marry her – but marriage is work and you have to want to work at it – to keep it interesting and exciting. Derek never thought he was the kind of guy who would look outside his marriage for fulfillment, but that was all about to change. His protective bubble he lived in was popped and eventually he was going to have to deal with Addison, he knew he needed to ask her for a divorce. He just worried what his mother might say, which sounds like he is a Momma's boy, but he really isn't – deep down, he's a good guy who got screwed – who also happens to have a mother who would expect him to work on his marriage. The whole thing was so humiliating, he spent one quarter of his life married to and building a life with Addison, only to have her and Mark piss all over it and him in one night!

With that thought he silently chastised himself for the millionth time since he moved. Even with the new job and the precipitous idea of starting over – what in the hell was he doing – besides running? He wasn't good at running, he had never been, he had been good at dealing with the cards he was dealt – or rather – the house of cards he created for himself and his image of a perfect life with Addison Fucking Montgomery. God, he loathed her! After what she did, what they did … fucking each other like animals with no morals, no common decency. Why couldn't she just level with him? Heartless was the word to describe them, everything about them reeked of sex and heartlessness that night.

Derek would always remember the scene unfold before him, it was like being in the room on a dirty porn set – in an even more ironic twist of fate – Addison sat impaled on Mark's cock, facing their bedroom door, unknowingly facing Derek.

She was chanting Mark's name with each passing thrust – like he was her king, her lover, her mate – her everything. And in that moment – Derek knew he should have moved – he knew he should have been boiling hot because he was seething and his blood pressure was rising by the second. He was still wearing his cashmere winter coat and a three piece suit for Christ's sake! He should have been hotter than hell – except he wasn't because on the inside his blood ran cold and he was shivering – his nerve-endings were closing off to the scene before him. Addison and Mark were closing the space he held in his heart for them – and within those fractional seconds – they all but died a slow, miserable … yet euphoric death.

She was grabbing for Mark's hair, his shoulders – anything to obliterate the millimeters between them – Mark's shoulders had large round red splotches on them from her perfectly manicured fingernails.

Her wedding bands taunted Derek as they sparkled in the dim light.

Her milky white thighs were red where his large hands held her in place.

As long as he lived, Derek would never forget Addison's face when she saw him – still impaled on his best friend's cock, unable to move – and within that moment before her world ended … she had her eyes closed with a tortured look of orgasmic bliss crossing her face, before she grabbed Mark's face to offer her praise in that post-coital bubble we all know.

"Thank God," she mumbled into their heat. She looked up and saw Derek.

Derek choked back the bile that rose in his throat.

Mark froze at the intruding sound.

Time stood still.

Derek sighed and released a breath he didn't realize he was holding, the bile rose again – the smell of their sex, their crime, their deceit hung in the thick air all around them – no, no … he wouldn't take one more breath in that room.

He turned on his heel and walked out.

Part 2 of 4 to follow.