(no subject)
Title: Ready For A Fall (10/?)
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairing: Addison/Mark, Callie/George, Callie/Alex (friendship), George/Izzie (implied) Alex/Izzie
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to fall, but if you're lucky someone may catch you. And they may be falling, too.
One
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Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
*~*~*~*~*~
I've just got to show you how differently I feel
That I can be true that my love is real
But my past will forever haunt me if you say that you don't want me
I'm down on my knees I'm begging you please
- Change of Heart, The Judds
*~*~*~*~*~
Addison found Mark sitting on a bed in the on call room. He had his back against the wall and his knees drawn upward and her heart raced a little when he looked at her. Swallowing hard, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it. His jaw was clenched tight and as she watched him, she saw that his eye was twitching. It was ... adorable. He was jealous.
It was also hot.
"Mark," she began.
"I don’t want to hear it."
"It was before we made the sixty day pact. Karev and I had been working together every day and it happened. I - I was lonely and we kissed. It was nothing."
"Nothing?" Mark scoffed. "This is why you fought with Callie? This is why you got drunker than I’ve ever seen you? This *intern*? He’s a baby, Addison. Pervert."
"I’m a pervert? Do you happen to remember the candle wax incident last New Year’s? Or the handcuffs? Or the-"
"That’s right, Addy. Do that thing you do where you point the finger at everyone but yourself. Go ahead."
Addison sighed and pushed away from the door. She sat next to him, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know I could pull up a hundred and one perfect comments for this situation, but I won’t. I’ll just say that I want to do this. I want to try, Mark. I want us to try to make this work."
Mark glanced at her. The twitch got worse. "If one of your comments was going to be that we’re even then-"
"Okay, skipping past that," she said. "Can you concentrate on the part where I said that I want us to be together?"
"Why?"
"Because I think that we could have something. Something rare." She chewed her bottom lip. "But so help me God, Mark, if you cheat on me again then I’m going to sleep with every man I see, take photos, and send you one every day."
The corner of his mouth lifted a little. "Is that right?"
"You’re either in this the entire way or you’re not. You give up the women, you give up your little black book --- which in your case is probably too heavy to carry anyway --- and you commit. To me."
The twitching in his eye finally fizzled out and he shifted a little so that he was facing her. "And you commit to me. We buy the house, get the dog, and have the babies. We take turns going to PTA meetings, we spend our weekends arguing about whose turn it is to pick up the dry cleaning, and we don’t look back."
Addison’s eyes were wide. "Your long term plan includes arguing over dry cleaning? And babies?"
"If I’m giving up my black book for you then you will damn well give me kids to make up for it."
"You don’t want kids, Mark. You’re just telling me what you think I want to hear."
"You got the abortion. I’m the one who bought the onesie, remember?"
"And then celebrated with your tennis partner. Oh, how vividly do I remember that. Half of the damn country club called to tell me what you were doing. And you call Alex a baby? Was she even legal?"
"What happened to not looking back?" Mark grinned at her. "We can do this, Addison. We really can have it all."
"This was far too easy. I don’t have to grovel?" She returned his smile and leaned a little closer. "Because I was going to tell you that I love you as a last resort."
He kissed her, cupping her face with his hand. It was soft, sweet, but still full of promise. When he finally pulled away she reached for the tie on his scrub pants, but he caught her hand. "No."
"No?"
"No." Mark shook his head. "We’re waiting."
"For?"
"I want to show you that I can go without sex. That you mean more to me than anything else. We’re still doing the sixty days."
Addison looked stunned. "But - wha - we took a shower together at my place! We almost-"
"Almost doesn’t count. We’re doing this right this time. No sex. With anyone."
"That is ridiculous!!!" Addison frowned when he slipped off the bed and looked at her.
He smiled and leaned down, kissing her again. "If my count is right we have thirty two more days."
"I will die."
"Buy a vibrator."
"I have two."
"Then buy some rechargeable batteries."
"Damn you."
"There’s nothing wrong with being a self pleasure junkie. I am." He put his hand on the doorknob and looked back at her. "By the way, Addison, I love you too."
Addison watched, slack jawed, as he winked and left her alone.
*~*~*~*~*~
"Did you tell her?" Izzie asked.
"Who?" Alex glanced up from the chart he was working on.
"Your new best friend," she replied. "Did you tell her that I took her DNR paperwork?"
Alex shook his head, smirking a little. "No. You are. After you apologize to her for cheating with her husband."
Izzie looked aghast. "That will *never* happen."
"Are you in love with O’Malley?" Alex closed the chart and watched her. "Seriously?"
"I thought I was," Izzie replied honestly. "I don’t have one night stands. I just - I don’t. I tried to rationalize that we were drunk and stupid, but after he kissed me in the elevator I just - I wanted to believe. I wanted it to mean something."
Alex pursed his lips. "So, when you left me for Denny ... what did that mean?"
"Alex."
"I’m just saying that I thought we had something. Something good. It wasn’t just the sex for me, Iz."
"You can’t help who you fall in love with."
Alex glared at her, not blinking. Her hair was blond again, but she had gotten it cut much shorter. It curled naturally around her face and he thought she couldn’t possibly look prettier, fresher. "Yeah," he finally said. "That’s something I found out the hard way."
"It just happened. Me and Denny."
"And you and George. You know, a lot of people would say that falling in love twice in less than a year is not possible."
Izzie watched him as he opened the chart again and wrote something inside. "Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"I wasn’t in love with George. I love George. He’s my best friend, but I - I confused love and sex. I confused being in love with being safe. He’s safe. He’s George. And he was married and leaving the house and thinking about going to Mercy West and I hated it." Izzie walked a little closer and lowered her voice. "And I did fall in love twice this year. You should know. You were the first."
Alex felt his stomach drop a little. She had loved him after all. That realization made him madder than just about anything else could have. "And I was there for the last, too. I picked you up off his bed, held you in my arms until you could stopped crying, and took you home. I stood outside the bathroom door the entire night, begging you to let me in."
"I know."
"Did you know that I would have died in his place? For you? To save you from what you became?" Alex felt the color rise into his face and hated himself for the brutal truth that was working its way from his heart. "Because I loved you that much. I loved you enough to want you happy even if it meant that I had to watch you with him. Even if it meant that you got married, had that perfect life, and came to work glowing every day. I wanted you to be happy. And that, Izzie, is how I know that you’re not in love with George because if you were in love with George ... you would have backed off a long time ago and let him have what he wants. Because love, real love, is selfless. And you’re the most self absorbed person on the face of the planet."
"You loved me?" Izzie stared at him with new eyes. "But you - you cheated on me with Olivia and -"
"Yeah. And *that’s* how I know that George understands the magnitude of his mistake and would do anything in the world to take it back. Having both been there and done that myself."
"I never knew. I never knew that you felt that way about me."
"Well, the good news is that I got over it." Alex was shocked at how easily the words rolled off his tongue. "The Izzie I loved vanished. The bad news is that every now and then she makes an appearance. And I fall again every single time she does."
She watched with shock as he gathered up the chart and tucked it under his arm. When he moved to put the ink pen in his front pocket, she caught his hand. "Why didn’t you tell me?"
"And complicate your fairy tale?" Alex shrugged. "I already told you that I wanted you to be happy. I may have given you hell over it, but I left it alone. You could probably stand to learn a thing or two from me. Callie’s not the Devil. She’s actually a decent person and you should be happy that someone loves George the way you loved Denny. Everyone should have that."
She watched him walk away.
Then she went to the chapel, where she spent the remainder of her shift lost in thought.
*~*~*~*~*~
What Callie wanted more than anything was to change into a nice dress, pull out her trusty pearls, and go crawl into her father’s lap and beg his forgiveness. For her entire life she had been a daddy’s girl. He had doted and she had tried to behave in a way that he could take pride in. What she did, however, was go straight to her room, where she locked herself in the bathroom until the hurt over her father’s words had abated enough for her to breathe again without feeling like her lungs would burst under the effort.
"Callie?" George waited fifteen minutes and finally knocked. "Can I come in?"
She opened the door and sat back down on the edge of the tub. "What?"
He had expected to see tears on her face and was both relieved and a little alarmed by the lack. "Are you okay?"
"I really don’t want anyone else to ask me that. Ever again," she replied. "Because I think that for the remainder of my life the answer is going to be no."
He kneeled down in front of her and reached for her hands, but she moved them to her sides. He put his hands on her legs instead. "It kills me to see you like this. I hate it. And it’s all my fault. I can’t think of a worse feeling in the world than to know that I did this to you."
"Having it done to me. That’s a worse feeling." She pushed his hands away. "Having you touch me after what you did? That’s even worse."
"I’m trying. I’m trying in every possible way that I know how. Can’t you just let me in a little bit? Just a little? It’s all I’m asking for."
"You asked to come here and here you are. Under the circumstances I’d say that you’re in much further than you ought to be."
"Do you want me to go?"
"Has it ever mattered what I want?"
"You held my hand in the car! I don’t understand these mixed signals!"
She raised a brow. "Considering that you wrote the book on mixed signals -"
"I’m not fighting with you. I’m not. I can’t and you don’t need the stress." George stood and put his hands in his pockets. "You do need to eat though and that’s what you’re going to do."
"I’m not hungry."
"Well, I ordered room service. We’re gonna eat and then you’re gonna get some rest."
"Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not a child."
"Then stop acting like one." George walked into the bedroom and yanked open the duffel bag. He had gotten a change of clothing for himself from his locker and he pulled the jeans and t-shirt out, laying them on the bed.
"What are you doing?"
"I’m gonna take a shower."
Callie threw her hands up in the air. "Right. Make yourself at home, George."
"This is my home."
"Whatever."
He walked past her and laid his clothing on the sink. After retrieving a towel from the cupboard, he turned and looked at her. "You gonna watch me?"
She turned on her heel and slammed the door. The shower started a moment later and she yanked her cellphone from her purse. She dialed Cam’s number, but it went straight to voice mail. "Fuck," she growled.
Pacing the length of the room, she put her head in her hands and finally slumped onto the bed. She was tired of pushing George away and that realization sat in her belly like a ton of bricks. The dark circles under his eyes indicated loud and clear that he was suffering, but every time she thought about how easy it would be to sink into his arms and let him take care of her ... the mental image of him and Izzie together crept into her brain. She wondered if he had gone down on her, if he had worshipped between Steven’s thighs the way that he had once worshipped at hers. She wondered if, after it was over, he nuzzled her neck in the way that made Callie’s skin pimple with goosebumps. She wondered if he compared the two of them, perfect Izzie with her tiny waist and curvy Callie with the big everything. She wondered ... no, she had to stop wondering.
It nauseated her and she swallowed back the bitter taste in her mouth. Standing, she walked to the small wet bar and pulled open the refrigerator. It had been freshly stocked and she grabbed a small two ounce bottle of Crown Royal. Twisting the top off, she knocked it back and grimaced, then reached for the bottle of Grey Goose that was the same size; roughly two shots.
George emerged just in time to see her drain it. His mouth opened it shock, then his temper flared. "God dammit, Callie!" he shouted, rushing across the room. He slapped the bottle out of her hand and then noticed the empty one that she had set on top of the fridge. He snatched her by the upper arms, shaking her hard. "GOD DAMMIT! DID LAST NIGHT NOT TEACH YOU A FUCKING THING? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"Ow." She stared, wide eyed as his fingers bit into her flesh. "You’re hurting me! George, stop! You’re hurting me!"
"YOU’RE KILLING ME! WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!?"
"STOP YELLING AT ME!" She shoved his hands off. "AND DON’T TOUCH ME!"
He yanked the small refrigerator from the counter and threw it across the room. The contents went flying. She watched in horror as he picked up a glass bottle of wine from the floor and pitched it against the wall. It shattered, staining the yellow paint crimson. Next, he turned to the contents on top of the dresser and angrily swiped everything off, then he attacked the drawers.
"George!"
"THIS STOPS NOW!" he shouted, seizing her by the shoulders and pushing her back against the wall. "Do you hear me!? You’re done! This is not the answer to our problems!"
"Stop!"
"YOU STOP! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?"
"WHAT DO YOU THINK I WAS THINKING? I WAS PICTURING YOU AND YOUR WHORE TOGETHER AND IT MAKES ME INSANE. IT MAKES ME SICK. IT MAKES ME WANT TO ERASE IT THE ONLY WAY I KNOW HOW! I WANT TO NOT FEEL LIKE THIS! I WANT TO BE NUMB!"
George gave into the tears that were stinging his eyes. "You have got to face this with a clear head! Until you do that then you’re never going to be okay, Callie, and I can’t watch you do this! I love you too damn much to watch you self destruct!"
Callie’s chin trembled and she closed her eyes, trying to will her own tears away. It was a futile, but well fought effort. "I don’t know else to survive."
His grip on her loosened a little when he saw her face fall. Reaching up, he gently touched her cheek. "Then lean on me. I’m here. Baby, I’m here and I’m not going away."
Callie did lean. It was involuntary only in that George pulled, but she didn’t struggle. She laid her head on his shoulder, her face against his neck, and let him hold her. Her hands were trapped between them, which had been intentional on George’s part, and she cried. She sobbed for what they’d had, what they had lost, and what she wanted to rebuild.
And he rubbed circles on her back, massaged the nape of her neck, and didn’t let go.
He was whispering that it would be okay, that he loved her, when there was a sharp knock on the door. "Damn it," he said. "I hate room service."
He let her go, pressed a kiss to her forehead, dried his own face and opened the door. It wasn’t room service. It was security. The man, large and overbearing, looked past George at the mess that had been made. "Dr. O’Malley, is everything okay in here? We received complaints about the noise."
"It’s fine, Terrence." George addressed the man by name, having seen him daily for months. "We just - rough day."
"I’d like to see Dr. Torres if you don’t mind."
Callie stepped into view. She saw Terrence’s eyes widen a little when he saw the shape she was in and she forced herself to smile. It felt as unconvincing as it probably looked. "Everything’s okay. I’ll be hiring someone personally to clean up the mess and please give my apologies to Mr. Bishop for the disturbance. It won’t happen again."
Terrence looked back and forth between the two newlyweds. He finally saw how red Callie’s upper arms were and his eyes narrowed a little on George. "Would you like for me to find other accommodations for Dr. O’Malley?"
"Only if they were in Iceland." Callie’s smile was a little more convincing now. "Thank you, Terrence, but I’m fine, and I appreciate the concern."
The room service arrived in the hallway behind Terrence and he stepped into the room, letting the waitress wheel it in. The young girl stared at the mess with undeniable shock. Callie pulled several bills from her wallet and said, "Melissa, three hundred and fifty dollars says that you don’t mention this."
The waitress took the money, tucked it into her apron and said, "Mention what?"
"Melissa Anderson!" Terrence cried.
Melissa darted out of the room and Terrence looked back at Callie. "Dr. Torres, our staff prides itself on discretion. You didn’t have to do that. I’ll report her for-"
"Don’t you dare. She’s a single mother trying to support her family and she’s proud. If she thinks I bought her silence then it’s not a handout." Callie ran a hand through her hair and said, "Now, if you’ll excuse us, Terrence, we’d like to have our dinner in peace."
The security guard tipped his hat at her and glared at George. "Please make sure that’s exactly how you have it. In peace."
George closed the door behind the guard and turned to Callie. He was about to say something to her about how impressive she had been, but he finally noticed her arms himself and swore under his breath. She would have bruises. Reaching out, he lightly touched one of the marks and said, "I didn’t realize that I was holding you so tight."
"I recall mentioning it." She pushed the cart out of the way and bent to retrieve two bottles of water from the floor. She handed one to him and opened the other, taking a couple of sips. The aroma of the food was enticing and her stomach rumbled, causing her to sigh at its betrayal. "Let’s just eat and then I’m going to take a nap."
George looked at her and fought hard not to smile. Small victories were still victories, but to gloat would likely result in his head finding its way onto one of the silver platters the food had arrived on. He grabbed two chairs and set them on either side of the rolling cart and waited for her to sit down. He sat across from her and lifted the lid on her tray, then his own.
"I’ll clean up the mess, Callie. I’m sorry that I -" He gestured at the room. "You just scared me."
"Not talking about it."
"Okay."
Callie picked up her fork and pushed the roast beef around on her plate. It smelled like heaven, looked fit for a king, and yet the thought of taking a bite of it made her throat constrict. She rested her chin on her fist and sculpted her mashed potatoes into a mountain and then dropped several green peas on top of it and watched them roll off. She repeated it a few times and then put her fork down and picked up the roll, squeezing it into a round ball.
George cleared his throat. "Are you four?"
"Asks the toddler who pitched a tantrum and almost got his ass kicked by Big Bad Security Daddy for his troubles." Feeling like a petulant child, Callie dropped the roll on top of the potato mountain and sat back in her seat.
"Will you please eat something?"
Callie looked down at George’s plate, which was almost empty. It seemed wrong to her that he could eat when she couldn’t. That he would want to eat after what he had done. He just kept living, kept breathing. And she was stuck waiting for the drain that she was circling to finally pull her down with the dirty water he had bathed in. Mercifully, the alcohol that she had consumed started to do its job and her head swam a little when she stood and put the lid back over her food.
"Callie." George stood as well and caught her arm. "You’re going to die if you keep on like this."
"That night. How many times were you with her?"
"Don’t."
"Did you - were you careful? She could be-"
"She’s not. She’s on the pill and she’s had a cycle. I asked her. While you were gone."
"What if she had been? Pregnant. Would you still be here with me?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you ask her about it? No. Don’t answer that." Callie wrapped her arms around her belly, which had started to ache. "Wait, answer it. Why did you ask her? Were you hoping? Were you -"
"No," he cut her off. "I wasn’t hoping. I was desperate to make sure it wasn’t a possibility. And I don’t remember enough about that night to tell you what happened or how many times. It’s a blur. The only thing I remember with absolute certainty was waking up and worrying about whether or not I had called you."
"What happened when you remembered? What did you do?"
"Callie-"
"What did you do?"
"I confronted her and we agreed to never mention it, to pretend it didn’t happen. We agreed it was a mistake and I made it very clear that I wouldn’t hurt you. I made it very clear that I love you."
"She told Addison it was God’s plan. That it was right."
"It wasn’t. She knows that now."
Callie bit her bottom lip. "Is there anything else that you’re not telling me? Anything? Did you touch her at all when you were sober?"
The kiss in the elevator sprang into his mind and he pushed it back out, emphatically shaking his head. That kiss, more than anything else could, had convinced him once and for all that Izzie was his best friend, his sister, and nothing more. "No! No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t," he lied.
Callie sat down on the edge of the bed, then lay back, drawing her legs toward her chest in the hopes that it would settle her belly. "I’m tired."
"Can I - would it be okay if I -" He indicated the bed.
"Do what you want. Just stay on your side and keep your hands to yourself." She groaned, wrapping her arms around her middle. "My stomach is killing me."
George lay down, facing her. "It’s empty, Callie. And still raw from being pumped and you put more alcohol in it."
"Shut up."
Her eyes were clenched tight from the paid and George gazed at her. He hated himself. He hated himself more than she possibly could and he found some solace in that. "Are you telling the truth, Cal?"
"About what?"
"You keep saying that you didn’t try to kill yourself and everyone seems to believe you."
"Except you." She opened her eyes and looked at him.
"Give me a reason to believe it."
She took a deep breath and said, "If I wanted to die I could have done it in North Carolina. The cabin was on top of a mountain and the road was dirt. It had been raining so the tires on the truck I rented kept spinning. I almost went over the side twice. It was a straight drop down into Lake Fontana and I could have lost control, but I didn’t."
"Did you drive while you were drinking?"
"I was unconscious after the drinking, George. Every single day."
"What about when you went and got the tattoo? Were you drinking then?"
"I got it a few miles from the airport the first day there. I had two glasses of wine on the flight, but I wasn’t drunk."
"Do you have a problem with alcohol?"
"No, I don’t," she replied sleepily. "I have a problem with the path my life has taken."
"Why do you keep doing this? Why? This isn’t you."
"It makes my soul be quiet. I just need it to be quiet for a while."
George watched as her eyes closed, as she tucked her hands under her cheek. After a few moments, her breathing evened out and he risked touching her. He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek and traced the curve of her brow. She was beautiful like this, her face relaxed, the tension gone. He had always thought she was gorgeous, but now he realized that she took his breath away. He grazed the freckles on her nose and knew that if never left the room again he would be content to look at her. He was seeing her so clearly and it felt like the first time he had laid his eyes on her at all.
A memory flashed through his mind then. His father had kept a trunk in the attic. It was beaten, battered, and the wood had buckled and splintered in several places. George’s brothers had laughed at it, claiming it was the ugliest thing they had ever seen, but it mesmerized George. He had fixed it up, refinished the inside, but left the outside the way it was and given it to his father for Christmas.
Harold had left that old trunk to George in his will and when George opened it, expecting it to be empty, he found a treasure inside. Everything that George had created at school, every time his name appeared in the paper, every report card ... was tucked inside in tissue paper. That should have taught George a lesson ... that sometimes the things that have rough edges and are not ‘classically pretty’ were usually the most valuable. Because they were filled with heart.
He had been an idiot and it had taken him almost losing her to make him realize what he had.
She sighed and he let his thumb trail over her plump, open lips. They were perfect lips. Angelina Jolie did not have the prettiest mouth, despite what people said. Callie did. When she smiled her lips looked like a heart and he wanted to see her smile again, to hear the throaty timbre of her voice when she laughed. Leaning forward, he kissed her softly, smelling the liquor on her breath. It had stunned him to see her drinking again and his face flushed as the anger he felt resurfaced.
He would get rid of the refrigerator. Or at the very least make it plain to the hospitality staff that no alcohol was to come into their room. She was relying on it to stop the pain and that’s how trouble started. Not that they weren’t already in more trouble than they could handle. He prayed that she was being honest about the suicide attempt, but his heart just wouldn’t let him surrender the overwhelming belief that she had wanted to die. He had certainly wanted to die after he found out about Mark Sloan trespassing on what was his.
Kissing her once again, he reached down and pulled a blanket over them. He made sure she was covered and lay back again, studying her features. He wanted her face, sweet and soothing, to be the last thing he saw before he drifted off. Mental and physical exhaustion had taken its toll on him and he was ready to crack down the middle, but sleep proved to be an unwilling partner.
For close to an hour, he lay motionless, listening to her breathing, watching her face. She rolled onto her back and he sat up a little, making sure she was okay. A moment later she rolled into his arms and put her head on his shoulder. It made him cry, it relieved him, it felt like a warm cocoon that he had no desire to fight his way out of. This ... this was coming home. He held her, clung to her, and relaxed.
Finally, he slept and for the first time since he had slept with Izzie ... his dreams were not nightmares. They were a welcome refuge where Callie laughed and danced and told him she loved him again and again.
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairing: Addison/Mark, Callie/George, Callie/Alex (friendship), George/Izzie (implied) Alex/Izzie
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to fall, but if you're lucky someone may catch you. And they may be falling, too.
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
*~*~*~*~*~
I've just got to show you how differently I feel
That I can be true that my love is real
But my past will forever haunt me if you say that you don't want me
I'm down on my knees I'm begging you please
- Change of Heart, The Judds
*~*~*~*~*~
Addison found Mark sitting on a bed in the on call room. He had his back against the wall and his knees drawn upward and her heart raced a little when he looked at her. Swallowing hard, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it. His jaw was clenched tight and as she watched him, she saw that his eye was twitching. It was ... adorable. He was jealous.
It was also hot.
"Mark," she began.
"I don’t want to hear it."
"It was before we made the sixty day pact. Karev and I had been working together every day and it happened. I - I was lonely and we kissed. It was nothing."
"Nothing?" Mark scoffed. "This is why you fought with Callie? This is why you got drunker than I’ve ever seen you? This *intern*? He’s a baby, Addison. Pervert."
"I’m a pervert? Do you happen to remember the candle wax incident last New Year’s? Or the handcuffs? Or the-"
"That’s right, Addy. Do that thing you do where you point the finger at everyone but yourself. Go ahead."
Addison sighed and pushed away from the door. She sat next to him, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know I could pull up a hundred and one perfect comments for this situation, but I won’t. I’ll just say that I want to do this. I want to try, Mark. I want us to try to make this work."
Mark glanced at her. The twitch got worse. "If one of your comments was going to be that we’re even then-"
"Okay, skipping past that," she said. "Can you concentrate on the part where I said that I want us to be together?"
"Why?"
"Because I think that we could have something. Something rare." She chewed her bottom lip. "But so help me God, Mark, if you cheat on me again then I’m going to sleep with every man I see, take photos, and send you one every day."
The corner of his mouth lifted a little. "Is that right?"
"You’re either in this the entire way or you’re not. You give up the women, you give up your little black book --- which in your case is probably too heavy to carry anyway --- and you commit. To me."
The twitching in his eye finally fizzled out and he shifted a little so that he was facing her. "And you commit to me. We buy the house, get the dog, and have the babies. We take turns going to PTA meetings, we spend our weekends arguing about whose turn it is to pick up the dry cleaning, and we don’t look back."
Addison’s eyes were wide. "Your long term plan includes arguing over dry cleaning? And babies?"
"If I’m giving up my black book for you then you will damn well give me kids to make up for it."
"You don’t want kids, Mark. You’re just telling me what you think I want to hear."
"You got the abortion. I’m the one who bought the onesie, remember?"
"And then celebrated with your tennis partner. Oh, how vividly do I remember that. Half of the damn country club called to tell me what you were doing. And you call Alex a baby? Was she even legal?"
"What happened to not looking back?" Mark grinned at her. "We can do this, Addison. We really can have it all."
"This was far too easy. I don’t have to grovel?" She returned his smile and leaned a little closer. "Because I was going to tell you that I love you as a last resort."
He kissed her, cupping her face with his hand. It was soft, sweet, but still full of promise. When he finally pulled away she reached for the tie on his scrub pants, but he caught her hand. "No."
"No?"
"No." Mark shook his head. "We’re waiting."
"For?"
"I want to show you that I can go without sex. That you mean more to me than anything else. We’re still doing the sixty days."
Addison looked stunned. "But - wha - we took a shower together at my place! We almost-"
"Almost doesn’t count. We’re doing this right this time. No sex. With anyone."
"That is ridiculous!!!" Addison frowned when he slipped off the bed and looked at her.
He smiled and leaned down, kissing her again. "If my count is right we have thirty two more days."
"I will die."
"Buy a vibrator."
"I have two."
"Then buy some rechargeable batteries."
"Damn you."
"There’s nothing wrong with being a self pleasure junkie. I am." He put his hand on the doorknob and looked back at her. "By the way, Addison, I love you too."
Addison watched, slack jawed, as he winked and left her alone.
*~*~*~*~*~
"Did you tell her?" Izzie asked.
"Who?" Alex glanced up from the chart he was working on.
"Your new best friend," she replied. "Did you tell her that I took her DNR paperwork?"
Alex shook his head, smirking a little. "No. You are. After you apologize to her for cheating with her husband."
Izzie looked aghast. "That will *never* happen."
"Are you in love with O’Malley?" Alex closed the chart and watched her. "Seriously?"
"I thought I was," Izzie replied honestly. "I don’t have one night stands. I just - I don’t. I tried to rationalize that we were drunk and stupid, but after he kissed me in the elevator I just - I wanted to believe. I wanted it to mean something."
Alex pursed his lips. "So, when you left me for Denny ... what did that mean?"
"Alex."
"I’m just saying that I thought we had something. Something good. It wasn’t just the sex for me, Iz."
"You can’t help who you fall in love with."
Alex glared at her, not blinking. Her hair was blond again, but she had gotten it cut much shorter. It curled naturally around her face and he thought she couldn’t possibly look prettier, fresher. "Yeah," he finally said. "That’s something I found out the hard way."
"It just happened. Me and Denny."
"And you and George. You know, a lot of people would say that falling in love twice in less than a year is not possible."
Izzie watched him as he opened the chart again and wrote something inside. "Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"I wasn’t in love with George. I love George. He’s my best friend, but I - I confused love and sex. I confused being in love with being safe. He’s safe. He’s George. And he was married and leaving the house and thinking about going to Mercy West and I hated it." Izzie walked a little closer and lowered her voice. "And I did fall in love twice this year. You should know. You were the first."
Alex felt his stomach drop a little. She had loved him after all. That realization made him madder than just about anything else could have. "And I was there for the last, too. I picked you up off his bed, held you in my arms until you could stopped crying, and took you home. I stood outside the bathroom door the entire night, begging you to let me in."
"I know."
"Did you know that I would have died in his place? For you? To save you from what you became?" Alex felt the color rise into his face and hated himself for the brutal truth that was working its way from his heart. "Because I loved you that much. I loved you enough to want you happy even if it meant that I had to watch you with him. Even if it meant that you got married, had that perfect life, and came to work glowing every day. I wanted you to be happy. And that, Izzie, is how I know that you’re not in love with George because if you were in love with George ... you would have backed off a long time ago and let him have what he wants. Because love, real love, is selfless. And you’re the most self absorbed person on the face of the planet."
"You loved me?" Izzie stared at him with new eyes. "But you - you cheated on me with Olivia and -"
"Yeah. And *that’s* how I know that George understands the magnitude of his mistake and would do anything in the world to take it back. Having both been there and done that myself."
"I never knew. I never knew that you felt that way about me."
"Well, the good news is that I got over it." Alex was shocked at how easily the words rolled off his tongue. "The Izzie I loved vanished. The bad news is that every now and then she makes an appearance. And I fall again every single time she does."
She watched with shock as he gathered up the chart and tucked it under his arm. When he moved to put the ink pen in his front pocket, she caught his hand. "Why didn’t you tell me?"
"And complicate your fairy tale?" Alex shrugged. "I already told you that I wanted you to be happy. I may have given you hell over it, but I left it alone. You could probably stand to learn a thing or two from me. Callie’s not the Devil. She’s actually a decent person and you should be happy that someone loves George the way you loved Denny. Everyone should have that."
She watched him walk away.
Then she went to the chapel, where she spent the remainder of her shift lost in thought.
*~*~*~*~*~
What Callie wanted more than anything was to change into a nice dress, pull out her trusty pearls, and go crawl into her father’s lap and beg his forgiveness. For her entire life she had been a daddy’s girl. He had doted and she had tried to behave in a way that he could take pride in. What she did, however, was go straight to her room, where she locked herself in the bathroom until the hurt over her father’s words had abated enough for her to breathe again without feeling like her lungs would burst under the effort.
"Callie?" George waited fifteen minutes and finally knocked. "Can I come in?"
She opened the door and sat back down on the edge of the tub. "What?"
He had expected to see tears on her face and was both relieved and a little alarmed by the lack. "Are you okay?"
"I really don’t want anyone else to ask me that. Ever again," she replied. "Because I think that for the remainder of my life the answer is going to be no."
He kneeled down in front of her and reached for her hands, but she moved them to her sides. He put his hands on her legs instead. "It kills me to see you like this. I hate it. And it’s all my fault. I can’t think of a worse feeling in the world than to know that I did this to you."
"Having it done to me. That’s a worse feeling." She pushed his hands away. "Having you touch me after what you did? That’s even worse."
"I’m trying. I’m trying in every possible way that I know how. Can’t you just let me in a little bit? Just a little? It’s all I’m asking for."
"You asked to come here and here you are. Under the circumstances I’d say that you’re in much further than you ought to be."
"Do you want me to go?"
"Has it ever mattered what I want?"
"You held my hand in the car! I don’t understand these mixed signals!"
She raised a brow. "Considering that you wrote the book on mixed signals -"
"I’m not fighting with you. I’m not. I can’t and you don’t need the stress." George stood and put his hands in his pockets. "You do need to eat though and that’s what you’re going to do."
"I’m not hungry."
"Well, I ordered room service. We’re gonna eat and then you’re gonna get some rest."
"Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not a child."
"Then stop acting like one." George walked into the bedroom and yanked open the duffel bag. He had gotten a change of clothing for himself from his locker and he pulled the jeans and t-shirt out, laying them on the bed.
"What are you doing?"
"I’m gonna take a shower."
Callie threw her hands up in the air. "Right. Make yourself at home, George."
"This is my home."
"Whatever."
He walked past her and laid his clothing on the sink. After retrieving a towel from the cupboard, he turned and looked at her. "You gonna watch me?"
She turned on her heel and slammed the door. The shower started a moment later and she yanked her cellphone from her purse. She dialed Cam’s number, but it went straight to voice mail. "Fuck," she growled.
Pacing the length of the room, she put her head in her hands and finally slumped onto the bed. She was tired of pushing George away and that realization sat in her belly like a ton of bricks. The dark circles under his eyes indicated loud and clear that he was suffering, but every time she thought about how easy it would be to sink into his arms and let him take care of her ... the mental image of him and Izzie together crept into her brain. She wondered if he had gone down on her, if he had worshipped between Steven’s thighs the way that he had once worshipped at hers. She wondered if, after it was over, he nuzzled her neck in the way that made Callie’s skin pimple with goosebumps. She wondered if he compared the two of them, perfect Izzie with her tiny waist and curvy Callie with the big everything. She wondered ... no, she had to stop wondering.
It nauseated her and she swallowed back the bitter taste in her mouth. Standing, she walked to the small wet bar and pulled open the refrigerator. It had been freshly stocked and she grabbed a small two ounce bottle of Crown Royal. Twisting the top off, she knocked it back and grimaced, then reached for the bottle of Grey Goose that was the same size; roughly two shots.
George emerged just in time to see her drain it. His mouth opened it shock, then his temper flared. "God dammit, Callie!" he shouted, rushing across the room. He slapped the bottle out of her hand and then noticed the empty one that she had set on top of the fridge. He snatched her by the upper arms, shaking her hard. "GOD DAMMIT! DID LAST NIGHT NOT TEACH YOU A FUCKING THING? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"Ow." She stared, wide eyed as his fingers bit into her flesh. "You’re hurting me! George, stop! You’re hurting me!"
"YOU’RE KILLING ME! WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!?"
"STOP YELLING AT ME!" She shoved his hands off. "AND DON’T TOUCH ME!"
He yanked the small refrigerator from the counter and threw it across the room. The contents went flying. She watched in horror as he picked up a glass bottle of wine from the floor and pitched it against the wall. It shattered, staining the yellow paint crimson. Next, he turned to the contents on top of the dresser and angrily swiped everything off, then he attacked the drawers.
"George!"
"THIS STOPS NOW!" he shouted, seizing her by the shoulders and pushing her back against the wall. "Do you hear me!? You’re done! This is not the answer to our problems!"
"Stop!"
"YOU STOP! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?"
"WHAT DO YOU THINK I WAS THINKING? I WAS PICTURING YOU AND YOUR WHORE TOGETHER AND IT MAKES ME INSANE. IT MAKES ME SICK. IT MAKES ME WANT TO ERASE IT THE ONLY WAY I KNOW HOW! I WANT TO NOT FEEL LIKE THIS! I WANT TO BE NUMB!"
George gave into the tears that were stinging his eyes. "You have got to face this with a clear head! Until you do that then you’re never going to be okay, Callie, and I can’t watch you do this! I love you too damn much to watch you self destruct!"
Callie’s chin trembled and she closed her eyes, trying to will her own tears away. It was a futile, but well fought effort. "I don’t know else to survive."
His grip on her loosened a little when he saw her face fall. Reaching up, he gently touched her cheek. "Then lean on me. I’m here. Baby, I’m here and I’m not going away."
Callie did lean. It was involuntary only in that George pulled, but she didn’t struggle. She laid her head on his shoulder, her face against his neck, and let him hold her. Her hands were trapped between them, which had been intentional on George’s part, and she cried. She sobbed for what they’d had, what they had lost, and what she wanted to rebuild.
And he rubbed circles on her back, massaged the nape of her neck, and didn’t let go.
He was whispering that it would be okay, that he loved her, when there was a sharp knock on the door. "Damn it," he said. "I hate room service."
He let her go, pressed a kiss to her forehead, dried his own face and opened the door. It wasn’t room service. It was security. The man, large and overbearing, looked past George at the mess that had been made. "Dr. O’Malley, is everything okay in here? We received complaints about the noise."
"It’s fine, Terrence." George addressed the man by name, having seen him daily for months. "We just - rough day."
"I’d like to see Dr. Torres if you don’t mind."
Callie stepped into view. She saw Terrence’s eyes widen a little when he saw the shape she was in and she forced herself to smile. It felt as unconvincing as it probably looked. "Everything’s okay. I’ll be hiring someone personally to clean up the mess and please give my apologies to Mr. Bishop for the disturbance. It won’t happen again."
Terrence looked back and forth between the two newlyweds. He finally saw how red Callie’s upper arms were and his eyes narrowed a little on George. "Would you like for me to find other accommodations for Dr. O’Malley?"
"Only if they were in Iceland." Callie’s smile was a little more convincing now. "Thank you, Terrence, but I’m fine, and I appreciate the concern."
The room service arrived in the hallway behind Terrence and he stepped into the room, letting the waitress wheel it in. The young girl stared at the mess with undeniable shock. Callie pulled several bills from her wallet and said, "Melissa, three hundred and fifty dollars says that you don’t mention this."
The waitress took the money, tucked it into her apron and said, "Mention what?"
"Melissa Anderson!" Terrence cried.
Melissa darted out of the room and Terrence looked back at Callie. "Dr. Torres, our staff prides itself on discretion. You didn’t have to do that. I’ll report her for-"
"Don’t you dare. She’s a single mother trying to support her family and she’s proud. If she thinks I bought her silence then it’s not a handout." Callie ran a hand through her hair and said, "Now, if you’ll excuse us, Terrence, we’d like to have our dinner in peace."
The security guard tipped his hat at her and glared at George. "Please make sure that’s exactly how you have it. In peace."
George closed the door behind the guard and turned to Callie. He was about to say something to her about how impressive she had been, but he finally noticed her arms himself and swore under his breath. She would have bruises. Reaching out, he lightly touched one of the marks and said, "I didn’t realize that I was holding you so tight."
"I recall mentioning it." She pushed the cart out of the way and bent to retrieve two bottles of water from the floor. She handed one to him and opened the other, taking a couple of sips. The aroma of the food was enticing and her stomach rumbled, causing her to sigh at its betrayal. "Let’s just eat and then I’m going to take a nap."
George looked at her and fought hard not to smile. Small victories were still victories, but to gloat would likely result in his head finding its way onto one of the silver platters the food had arrived on. He grabbed two chairs and set them on either side of the rolling cart and waited for her to sit down. He sat across from her and lifted the lid on her tray, then his own.
"I’ll clean up the mess, Callie. I’m sorry that I -" He gestured at the room. "You just scared me."
"Not talking about it."
"Okay."
Callie picked up her fork and pushed the roast beef around on her plate. It smelled like heaven, looked fit for a king, and yet the thought of taking a bite of it made her throat constrict. She rested her chin on her fist and sculpted her mashed potatoes into a mountain and then dropped several green peas on top of it and watched them roll off. She repeated it a few times and then put her fork down and picked up the roll, squeezing it into a round ball.
George cleared his throat. "Are you four?"
"Asks the toddler who pitched a tantrum and almost got his ass kicked by Big Bad Security Daddy for his troubles." Feeling like a petulant child, Callie dropped the roll on top of the potato mountain and sat back in her seat.
"Will you please eat something?"
Callie looked down at George’s plate, which was almost empty. It seemed wrong to her that he could eat when she couldn’t. That he would want to eat after what he had done. He just kept living, kept breathing. And she was stuck waiting for the drain that she was circling to finally pull her down with the dirty water he had bathed in. Mercifully, the alcohol that she had consumed started to do its job and her head swam a little when she stood and put the lid back over her food.
"Callie." George stood as well and caught her arm. "You’re going to die if you keep on like this."
"That night. How many times were you with her?"
"Don’t."
"Did you - were you careful? She could be-"
"She’s not. She’s on the pill and she’s had a cycle. I asked her. While you were gone."
"What if she had been? Pregnant. Would you still be here with me?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you ask her about it? No. Don’t answer that." Callie wrapped her arms around her belly, which had started to ache. "Wait, answer it. Why did you ask her? Were you hoping? Were you -"
"No," he cut her off. "I wasn’t hoping. I was desperate to make sure it wasn’t a possibility. And I don’t remember enough about that night to tell you what happened or how many times. It’s a blur. The only thing I remember with absolute certainty was waking up and worrying about whether or not I had called you."
"What happened when you remembered? What did you do?"
"Callie-"
"What did you do?"
"I confronted her and we agreed to never mention it, to pretend it didn’t happen. We agreed it was a mistake and I made it very clear that I wouldn’t hurt you. I made it very clear that I love you."
"She told Addison it was God’s plan. That it was right."
"It wasn’t. She knows that now."
Callie bit her bottom lip. "Is there anything else that you’re not telling me? Anything? Did you touch her at all when you were sober?"
The kiss in the elevator sprang into his mind and he pushed it back out, emphatically shaking his head. That kiss, more than anything else could, had convinced him once and for all that Izzie was his best friend, his sister, and nothing more. "No! No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t," he lied.
Callie sat down on the edge of the bed, then lay back, drawing her legs toward her chest in the hopes that it would settle her belly. "I’m tired."
"Can I - would it be okay if I -" He indicated the bed.
"Do what you want. Just stay on your side and keep your hands to yourself." She groaned, wrapping her arms around her middle. "My stomach is killing me."
George lay down, facing her. "It’s empty, Callie. And still raw from being pumped and you put more alcohol in it."
"Shut up."
Her eyes were clenched tight from the paid and George gazed at her. He hated himself. He hated himself more than she possibly could and he found some solace in that. "Are you telling the truth, Cal?"
"About what?"
"You keep saying that you didn’t try to kill yourself and everyone seems to believe you."
"Except you." She opened her eyes and looked at him.
"Give me a reason to believe it."
She took a deep breath and said, "If I wanted to die I could have done it in North Carolina. The cabin was on top of a mountain and the road was dirt. It had been raining so the tires on the truck I rented kept spinning. I almost went over the side twice. It was a straight drop down into Lake Fontana and I could have lost control, but I didn’t."
"Did you drive while you were drinking?"
"I was unconscious after the drinking, George. Every single day."
"What about when you went and got the tattoo? Were you drinking then?"
"I got it a few miles from the airport the first day there. I had two glasses of wine on the flight, but I wasn’t drunk."
"Do you have a problem with alcohol?"
"No, I don’t," she replied sleepily. "I have a problem with the path my life has taken."
"Why do you keep doing this? Why? This isn’t you."
"It makes my soul be quiet. I just need it to be quiet for a while."
George watched as her eyes closed, as she tucked her hands under her cheek. After a few moments, her breathing evened out and he risked touching her. He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek and traced the curve of her brow. She was beautiful like this, her face relaxed, the tension gone. He had always thought she was gorgeous, but now he realized that she took his breath away. He grazed the freckles on her nose and knew that if never left the room again he would be content to look at her. He was seeing her so clearly and it felt like the first time he had laid his eyes on her at all.
A memory flashed through his mind then. His father had kept a trunk in the attic. It was beaten, battered, and the wood had buckled and splintered in several places. George’s brothers had laughed at it, claiming it was the ugliest thing they had ever seen, but it mesmerized George. He had fixed it up, refinished the inside, but left the outside the way it was and given it to his father for Christmas.
Harold had left that old trunk to George in his will and when George opened it, expecting it to be empty, he found a treasure inside. Everything that George had created at school, every time his name appeared in the paper, every report card ... was tucked inside in tissue paper. That should have taught George a lesson ... that sometimes the things that have rough edges and are not ‘classically pretty’ were usually the most valuable. Because they were filled with heart.
He had been an idiot and it had taken him almost losing her to make him realize what he had.
She sighed and he let his thumb trail over her plump, open lips. They were perfect lips. Angelina Jolie did not have the prettiest mouth, despite what people said. Callie did. When she smiled her lips looked like a heart and he wanted to see her smile again, to hear the throaty timbre of her voice when she laughed. Leaning forward, he kissed her softly, smelling the liquor on her breath. It had stunned him to see her drinking again and his face flushed as the anger he felt resurfaced.
He would get rid of the refrigerator. Or at the very least make it plain to the hospitality staff that no alcohol was to come into their room. She was relying on it to stop the pain and that’s how trouble started. Not that they weren’t already in more trouble than they could handle. He prayed that she was being honest about the suicide attempt, but his heart just wouldn’t let him surrender the overwhelming belief that she had wanted to die. He had certainly wanted to die after he found out about Mark Sloan trespassing on what was his.
Kissing her once again, he reached down and pulled a blanket over them. He made sure she was covered and lay back again, studying her features. He wanted her face, sweet and soothing, to be the last thing he saw before he drifted off. Mental and physical exhaustion had taken its toll on him and he was ready to crack down the middle, but sleep proved to be an unwilling partner.
For close to an hour, he lay motionless, listening to her breathing, watching her face. She rolled onto her back and he sat up a little, making sure she was okay. A moment later she rolled into his arms and put her head on his shoulder. It made him cry, it relieved him, it felt like a warm cocoon that he had no desire to fight his way out of. This ... this was coming home. He held her, clung to her, and relaxed.
Finally, he slept and for the first time since he had slept with Izzie ... his dreams were not nightmares. They were a welcome refuge where Callie laughed and danced and told him she loved him again and again.