(no subject)
Title: Ready For A Fall (18/?)
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Rating: NC17 (vaguely)
Pairing: Addison/Mark, Callie/George, Callie/Alex, George/Izzie, Meredith/Derek
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to fall, but if you're lucky someone may catch you. And they may be falling, too.
A/N: I cried writing this. I don't know if you will, but I'm saying there's a tissue warning to be had. So ... you're warned.
A/N 2: I almost didn't post this at all. I'm skerrred.
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Nine
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Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
*~*~*~*~*~
Don't think "I'm sorry" is what we need to say
Don't think forgiveness is why we're here today
Guilty, we're both guilty, let's walk through that door
A second chance is what I'm talkin' about
Let's take the hurt and turn it inside out
Lay it on me baby until I can't take anymore
No mercy, show me no mercy
Love me all night long and don't hurry
Take it slow and easy, no mercy tonight
Hold me baby, you know I've been hurtin
Love this love back to life cause it's worth it
Love me strong baby, show me no mercy tonight
- Ty Herndon
*~*~*~*~*~
Callie sailed the yacht just off the Farallon Islands before she dropped the anchor and sighed. Her hands trembled as she took the key from the ignition and she envisioned the shark again. She had come close to dying. So had Alex. They had practically looked the Grim Reaper right in the eye. When she had woken up in the hospital and was told that she could have died, she had taken the news with a grain of salt. She genuinely didn’t *care* either way. Life and death had become interchangeable things in her mind that left her all alone either way ... whether it was in the ground or in her marriage. In Vegas, George had been a good husband. In Seattle, George had not been a husband at *all*. She was alone. Whether it was six feet under or over was of no consequence to her at the time.
It didn’t really feel like a suicide attempt. Not exactly. She had just wanted to rest for a while ... but waking up had been ... well, a disappointment. She had been honest with her parents. She wouldn’t have minded dying. Even by her own hand. Life had stepped out of her control and she wasn’t willing to fight for it. She was exhausted. The thought of everyone knowing that Izzie Stevens had stolen her husband, the thought of women looking at her the same way she looked at *those* women who let a man walk all over them ... all of it ate at her every waking moment. Maybe a little part of her had figured that if she died in the parking garage ... she wouldn’t be a laughingstock. She’d still be pathetic, but no one would laugh.
Maybe.
‘No, it’s not a maybe. You knew. You wanted it to end,’ she thought. ‘You knew it when you bought the second bottle.’
The truth settled into the pit of her stomach like a ball of acid when she finally admitted it to herself and she put a hand over her mouth, her eyes welling with tears. She had wanted to die. She knew that she had consumed enough alcohol in the first bottle to do it, but she still opened the second and poured more down her throat. She had been thinking about death, about ceasing to exist.
She had also been thinking that she wanted to go ahead and take George back that day, but not for the reasons she should have. George had the endearing family and Callie had loved Harold very much; she had talked to Harold about love a million and one times. George was adorably awkward and so cute at times that it hurt. George had been the heart in the elevator guy, but that didn’t mean he knew how to handle the heart of a woman who had never given hers away before. And Callie *had* loved him. With all she had. She had loved him enough to settle into second or third place just for a moment of his time.
Callie was not built for second or third place, though. Her entire life ... she had refused to settle for less than the best for herself. In medical school, even though she didn’t want to be there, she had excelled effortlessly. She had refused to *do* less than that. Her father had instilled a sharp sense of integrity and unshakeable dignity into her. She put her mind to something and she succeeded without fail. She wanted to fly planes so she did. She wanted to scale mountains so she did. And she did it to be best of her abilities.
She didn’t know HOW to fail.
She had taken George back simply because she couldn’t stand the thought of losing the war.
To Izzie Stevens.
It shocked her now ... how easy it was to think of George doing God knew what with Izzie. Or anyone else for that matter. A part of her love had died with his admission of infidelity and he had taken the little that remained and threw it back at her by lying to her again. Seeing him with Stevens in the stairwell had been the eraser she needed. He was gone from her heart, from her mind, and she was sad and relieved. She was hurt and elated. She was shocked and soothed.
She could breathe without him just fine because the air was cleaner.
And Calliope Iphegenia Torres wanted to breathe. She wanted to live.
It had taken a fifteen foot shark to truly wake her up enough to take stock, but it had worked. She wanted to *live*.
She didn’t have to wonder why.
Her reason was on the yacht with her.
Alex listened to her and heard what she was saying even if he had to read it between the lines. He had conversations with her that weren’t always about his friends or himself. He asked her questions, he laughed at her quirks instead of questioning them, and he never made her feel bad about herself. If she did gain weight again ... he would *like* her curves the same way she had made peace with them because it was a Torres thing and he seemed to like that she was a Torres. And she knew, better than she knew how to fly, that Alex would have stood up against her parents and shot down the rehab idea. George, once again, had sided against her, this time choosing her parents over her. She was perpetually last with George ... or as close to last place as she could get and still be on the scoreboard.
Alex, she realized, gave her roots and wings ... just like her plane. He supplied her with the inner-strength and support to take flight, but gave her a safe place to land when she was tired. Or when she needed two strong arms around her. He had seen her at her best and enjoyed the hell out of the view, but he had also seen her at her worst and never once looked the other way. He looked into her when she hurt and knew how to fix it. He didn’t run, didn’t push her away, and he knew when to give her space.
Alex *knew* Callie more than George had ever attempted to know her.
And she had shot him down.
Standing, she gazed down at the water. He had jumped in to save her even though he knew that a shark was present. He had been willing to die with her the same way she had been willing to die with Cambyses all those years ago when they had sank the yacht. She had been willing to die with Cam because she loved him. She knew what love felt like and she had lied to Alex by saying she didn’t believe anymore.
Callie believed.
She believed with every fiber of her being that the heart she had taken back from George was tattered and torn, shell shocked and scarred, but it belonged to Alex Karev and there was nothing she could do about it. He had gotten into her and she couldn’t, wouldn’t, push him back out.
Making up her mind, she nodded her resolve and headed below deck. The door of the starboard bedroom was shut and she knocked lightly. "Alex? Can I talk to you? Please?"
She knocked again when he didn’t answer. "I didn’t mean what I said to you earlier and - and I don’t want to have Disneyland. Not that Disneyland wasn’t perfect because it was and I loved it, but, I want San Francisco, Alex. And I want Seattle, too. With you. I - I didn’t try to throw my life away by going in the water, but I know that I’m throwing it away if I don’t take this chance. I want to take a chance with you because I *do* trust you and I do lo-"
"Don’t say it. If I can’t then you can’t." Alex spoke behind her, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. He had to fight hard not to smile, but somehow he managed.
She turned quickly and looked up at him. "You can say it. I won’t freak out again."
He walked past her and sat on the leather sofa in the salon. He was going to make it very hard on her because almost dying for someone gave you the *right* to bust their chops. Especially when they deserved it. Besides, it could be fun to watch her squirm. "No. I don’t think I’ll be saying it again."
She had been walking toward the sofa as well, but his words made her pause. "You mean ever? Or right now?"
"I don’t know."
"You don’t know?"
"Wasn’t that what you said to me when I asked you what was left if I couldn’t love you?"
Her eyes widened. "Please don’t throw my words back at me. I know you get off on the quoting thing, but can you say something original? I’m trying here. I’m trying to meet you halfway and explain that I get it. I finally get it."
"What do you get?"
"Us."
"What exactly were you getting when you asked me to come on this trip? What were you getting when you had sex with me? Besides off, I mean." He waited for her to answer, but she didn’t. "You don’t want to talk now? I can’t say that I mind. So far you haven’t said anything I really want to hear."
"That would be because you won’t stop running your mouth, Jock Strap! I am trying to tell you that I’m ready! I am ready to do this with you!" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Though your attitude is making me contemplate tossing your ass back in the water."
He narrowed his eyes. "I’d like to see you try."
"I can’t think of a better thing to say than fuck you."
"We’ve covered that already. Many times and many ways." He tilted his head a little, trying to hide his amusement. "Are you going to apologize for almost getting me killed?"
"No, smart ass, I’m not going to apologize because *you* are the one who jumped. Not me."
"Oh, right. You just fell off the boat and-"
"I was *playing* with dolphins."
"Can you explain to me why you would choose to go *play* with dolphins instead of coming down here and apologizing to me? We had a fight. It was a bad one." He opened his arms wide. "And I know that my dramatic exit was Oscar worthy and that was your cue to follow me and talk to me."
"I didn’t know what to say!"
"How about an apology? The one I’m still waiting for."
"I’m sorry that you don’t have any common sense and almost killed yourself for me."
He put his hand over his heart. "That was so touching. You know, if you’re into being rubbed the wrong way."
"I’ve been sleepwalking, Alex. Okay? And I finally woke up."
"Could you make sense? At least a little?"
Callie glared at him and then took a seat beside him, crossing her legs. She angrily waved her foot back and forth and said, "I am not a stupid person. Granted, the past few months have been an orgy of stupidity for me, but I am not a stupid person. I know that it’s idiotic to leap from one failed relationship into a new one without so much as a backward glance." She met his eyes. "But I’m not looking back and I don’t want us to fail because as much as it pains me to admit that a jock could make sense ... you do. So I’m in this. All the way."
Alex couldn’t hide his smile any longer. He smirked at her, but it faded when she picked up a pillow and hit him with it. "WHAT?" he snapped, catching it before she could hit him again.
"Do not laugh at me!"
"Laughter is out loud. I didn’t make a sound."
"I take it back. I don’t like you. At all." She shot to her feet and was headed for her bedroom when he caught her around the waist. He executed a wrestling move that had her on her back with her arms pinned over her head in less than three seconds and she tried to buck him off. "Alex, so help me God-"
"You better pray, Cal, because the things that I’m going to do to you will secure your ticket to Hell. Save me a spot." He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head. He devoured her neck instead. "You like me, Gothika, you really, really like me. You pretty much told me so."
Callie glared at him. "You know, I think I’m going to get the fish out of the freezer and chum the water before I push you in."
"You’re not in any position to push, baby," Alex replied, grinding his hips against her center. "But I am."
She finally smiled up at him and shook her head. "No. We’re not having sex of any kind until we finish this conversation."
"Nothing says ‘I’m sorry’ like multiple orgasms." Alex leaned down to kiss her and this time she didn’t pull away. He put everything into it and when he pulled back, he was breathing hard. "I’m sorry, by the way."
"For which part?" she asked. "There are so many things you should apologize for."
"For telling you we’d always have Disneyland."
"It was a nicely executed breakup. Oscar worthy."
"That wasn’t a breakup." He rubbed his nose against hers. "You’re so cute when you’re pissed."
"Well, you seem to be keeping me that way."
"You’re even cuter in the throes of passion."
"You seem to be keeping me that way as well."
"We do need to talk." He kissed her neck again and let her arms go. She hugged him and he rolled them slightly so that she was lying in the crook of his arm. "I thought that shark had bitten you, Cal. I’ve never heard anyone scream like you did."
"I thought it had bitten me, too." She put her hand on his lower stomach and rubbed the tight muscles there. "That was a scream for life. I didn’t want to die. Not this time, Alex."
He tensed up beside her. "But you did last time? No ... don’t answer that. Because if you say you did then I’m going to get pissed and -"
"Then you’ll have to get pissed because I need to tell you this. I knew what I was doing. I knew it was enough to end it. I - I wanted to." She pushed herself up on her elbow and gazed down at him. His jaw was tight and he was staring at the ceiling. "But you called and I answered. My phone rang twenty times and I only answered you."
He took a deep breath and looked at her. "Death cannot stop true love. It can only delay it for a while."
"You’re a great Westley." She smiled. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Knowing what you know now about what I did," she said. "Would you have agreed with my parents and told me to go to rehab?"
"No." He studied her face. "What you did - you don’t need to be shut away from the people who love you. What’s that gonna do besides make you feel more alone? You’re not alone. I’m here. I’m always here. And I would have told your parents to kiss your ass and then mine."
"That’s hot."
"What is it with rich chicks and that phrase?" Alex held her a little closer. "It’s my turn to ask something."
"Go ahead."
"When we get back to Seattle and go to work it’s going to be weird for a while. People are going to talk and have opinions and judge us. Are you okay with that?"
"I’m fine with it. Are you?"
"I don’t give a shit what people think, but it won’t be as hard on me. I’m not married."
"I told my dad to get the divorce started. He will."
"And you’re going to sign it and be done. Just like that?" He was looking at the far wall now.
Callie turned his face so she could see him. "Izzie once told me that my marriage was just a piece of paper. Truer words were never spoken. I hate her and she’s always been a bitch to me, but she was right. And I’m going to shred that paper myself and then sign whatever I have to so that I can be with you with nothing hanging over us."
"That works for me." He pulled her on top of him and put his arms behind his head. "So, we’re going to Alcatraz tomorrow. What else are you gonna show me?"
"The future," she replied, leaning down to kiss him. When she sat back up, she peeled her bathing suit off her shoulders and down around her waist. "One mind blowing orgasm at a time."
"That actually works for me too."
"I thought it might. Wanna see just how flexible I am?"
He nodded.
And was amazed.
*~*~*~*~*~
George sat at the Emerald City Bar. He looked at Joe and nodded, holding up his shot glass. The folder that contained his divorce papers sat in front of him and he had looked at them enough to burn the image into his brain. The Torres family had decided to buy him out. As Joe filled his glass, George said, "They’re offering me twenty-five thousand and her car. And everything we bought while we were married. Which ... wasn’t much. You know? Mostly room service and clothes and stuff."
Joe heard the way George slurred his words and set the bottle back behind the bar. "I’m cutting you off. That’s your last drink of the night."
"She’s with Alex. Did you know that? My wife is with Alex Karev. I stopped counting the days and how many times they’ve probably -" He trailed off and grabbed his head. "I’m not drunk enough to think about it."
Tossing his towel over his shoulder, Joe reached out and gripped George’s shoulder. "You need to eat something. You want a sandwich? Some hot wings?"
"I want to go back in time and erase what I did."
"I can’t help you with that, buddy."
"Do you know what it’s like to be left?"
"Yeah."
"Did you cause it?"
"I was left for someone else. That’s about as low as a person can feel, I think."
George emptied his glass. "I never thought about leaving her for Izzie. I just - I never thought. You know? It was meaningless sex."
"You drunk dialed me that night. You and Izzie. Izzie said that you were mad at Callie and needed her to make you like her again, but she couldn’t because Callie was a fat insecure bitch. You agreed with her, George, but you added that she was a psycho mistake and a ferret loving whore."
"I don’t remember that!"
"I’m not surprised. Alcohol loosens the tongue. I see it every night and most of the time the things that get said are brutal, but they’re still a reflection of how you feel."
"I - I didn’t mean whatever I said." George put his head in his hands. "What do I do, Joe?"
Joe leaned on his elbows in front of the other man. "I can’t tell you what to do. I can only tell you that in my opinion you got married really fast and it was right after your dad died. And I have witnessed first hand the way that Izzie treats Callie and you never said a word to stop it when it happened. I know that you saw it, too."
George had to nod. He held his glass up and said, "Just one more?"
"How are you getting home?"
"I’ll drive him."
George glanced to his left. Nurse Olivia had taken a seat beside him and was gazing at him with sympathy. "Hey," he said.
"Everyone knows," she told him. "Good news travels fast."
"What is that supposed to mean?" George asked her, then noticed that Joe had walked away without filling his glass again. "Damn it."
"You’ve had enough. You’ve had enough of Callie, enough of a dead end marriage, and enough to drink. So, stop." Olivia put her hand on his. "Just stop."
George looked at her, leaning his chin against his palm. "You hate her, too. Everyone hates her."
Olivia shrugged. "I didn’t hate her until she stole you."
"I wasn’t stolen. I went willingly."
"No, you didn’t. She forced your hand. Everyone who knows you saw that she was overbearing and clingy. She’s toxic, George. She is. And you’re better off without her."
"Don’t call my wife toxic."
"Don’t call her your wife. Nurse Tyler saw her making out with Alex in an empty room the other day. They were all over each other."
George blinked. "No. No, you’re wrong."
"I saw them in the stairwell myself."
George felt his stomach turn over and laid his head on the folder. "Are you sure?"
"I’m positive. It was - it was right before they confronted you and Izzie. Right before they left town. They came into the stairwell and I was a floor above them taking a break. I looked down in time to see them kissing."
George looked at her. "Do you have a pen?"
"Yeah." She dug through her purse, found one, and then watched as he scribbled in the file. "What’s that?"
"Divorce papers."
She patted him on the back and her hand lingered over his neck. "I don’t have to take you to Meredith’s house."
George closed the folder and looked at her. "Good, because I was going home with you."
"Then let’s go."
He stood and wobbled on his feet.
Olivia linked her arm through his and he stopped her, kissing her roughly in the middle of the crowded room.
They had sex in her car in the parking lot of the bar and again at her apartment.
And he didn’t lose his erection once.
*~*~*~*~*~
"Good morning, Jock Strap." Callie kissed Alex softly on the forehead and put the tray over his legs. "I made waffles. Belgian ones."
"Good morning, Morticia." Alex rubbed his eyes and pushed himself upward, looking down at the elegant spread of food she had brought into the bedroom. "You get that I’m over our fight, right?"
"I do." Callie sat between his outstretched legs, the tray of food between them. She smothered the waffles with syrup, cut into one, and held it out to him. "Go ahead. Tell me I can cook."
"You proved that last night with the pork chops. You think I could lick the syrup off your belly the way I did the barbeque sauce?"
"If we do that we’ll never see the city."
He grinned at her, his mouth still full. "Is that why you’re up so early?"
"I sailed us a little closer. If you eat fast we can see the sunrise." She took a bite and savored it. "I want to kiss you when we go under the Golden Gate. My daddy said that any kiss under that bridge is a forever kiss."
"I thought we covered that kiss with our first one." He took another bite that she offered and then sipped his orange juice. The food was amazing, but the smile on her face was even more satisfying. Her cheeks were rosy and she was eating again so life was good. "You’re happy. I love seeing you this way."
"I love feeling this way. It’s more than happy." She fed him a slice of apple. "You should think about going into cardiology. You fixed my heart and I didn’t think it could be done."
"I’m only interested in hearts that talk to mine."
"You’re repulsively cheesy."
"And you love it."
"I do. I really do."
"What are we doing today? Besides Alcatraz?"
"I was going to suggest the aquarium, but I’ve had enough marine life to last a lifetime." She made a face. "If we do the night tour of the prison then we have all day to explore. The trolleys go everywhere important and they’re fun as hell to ride. I do want to go to Chinatown for sure. They have a place that cooks fresh fortune cookies that makes all of Ross Alley smell like heaven."
"There’s a Ross Alley in Chinatown."
"There is. There’s also a huge theme park over in the bay area, Paramount’s Great America, that has some kick ass thrill rides."
"Yesterday was a big enough thrill ride for me. And nothing is competing with Disneyland."
"Nothing, huh?" She gave him a knowing look. "Because I’m pretty sure that -"
"Stop it. Because if you start talking the way I think you’re going to start talking we will *never* leave this boat again."
"I won’t mind."
They missed the sunrise, but when they finally made it topside, Callie got her kiss under the Golden Gate.
They docked at a small marina and headed into the city, hand in hand.
And heart to heart.
*~*~*~*~*~
"It is too early in the morning for a cesarean. I’m boycotting for a while." Addison put a cup of coffee in front of Mark and sat down, arms over her chest. "I can’t do it. I can’t finish the sixty days."
"Yes, you can," he replied, flipping the page of his magazine.
"Oral sex is still sex, Mark. Unless you’re Bill Clinton. We had sex in my room. So ... let’s stop this nonsense and go to the nearest empty on call room where you can have your wicked way with me." Addison watched him hopefully. When he didn’t look at her, she yanked her glasses out of her pocket and shoved them on her face, then snatched his magazine. "Are you reading porn?"
He watched her flip to the cover of the Newsweek and picked up the coffee she had brought him, sipping it. It took all of his resolve to swallow it because it was the nastiest thing he had ever tasted. "Addison?"
"What?"
"We can have sex."
She pulled her glasses off and smiled triumphantly. He caught her arm when she started to stand. "Addison? We can have sex when you can make me a cup of coffee the way I like it."
Addy slumped back into her seat. "How do you like it? I’ll do it right now."
"That’s for me to know and you to find out."
"Oh, yay, we’re playing kindergarten and I didn’t get the memo."
He took his Newsweek back. "You didn’t get many memos at all, apparently. You don’t know me the way I know you. You’ve never cared to learn. If you had, you would know that I like to read a magazine, this particular magazine, before I head into a huge surgery. If you had checked the date when you looked at it then you would see that it’s the coverage of September Eleventh and you’d remember that Derek and I helped out at Ground Zero that day."
Addison chewed her bottom lip. "I do know you."
"Do you? What did I do after my dad died?"
"You - you went to Martha’s Vineyard with Derek’s family and skipped the funeral."
"Why did I do that?" He watched her, waiting for her response. When she didn’t reply, he added, "I went to Martha’s Vineyard because my mother planned a party instead of a funeral. She was dancing on his grave before it was even dug and she had all of her boyfriends lined up as dance partners."
"I didn’t think you were close to your father."
"I wasn’t close to any of them, Addison, but I’ve still got a heart. It would have destroyed him to see her parade her lifestyle right out in the open." He rolled up the magazine and clutched it in his hand. "Today is the anniversary of his death. I don’t remember dates as a rule, but this one is seared into my brain. My mother had Adam Teller over for dinner and I watched them go upstairs, knowing what they were going to do. I fixed my father something to eat and took it into the study, where they had set up a hospital bed for him. He was already gone. And she was laughing upstairs, she was always laughing."
"Oh, Mark." Addison took his hand. "I’m sorry."
"I went upstairs and caught her having sex. I called her a whore and left home. I never went back." He rubbed his thumb on the back of Addy’s hand. "I’ve always treated women as someone to enjoy and discard. I’ve always used sex to make me feel alive and, I guess, to punish all women because in a way, all women are just like her in my head. I’m the manwhore my mother made."
"Don’t. Don’t say that."
"You’ve said it. More than once. And you’re right, I am." He pushed a lock of hair off her cheek. "Only not with you. For the first time in my life I want the shackles and chains, Addison. I’ll even buy them myself because I love you."
Addison moved forward and kissed him. "I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time."
He grinned at her. "We’re still not having sex, but if you want to go to a movie later I’d like that. I don’t want to be ... you know, alone. Not today."
She nodded. "You’re not alone, Mark. Ever."
Mark kissed her again. "I hope you can figure out how I like my coffee by tonight because if you do ... you will be rewarded handsomely."
She traced the stubble on his face with her hand. "I already have been."
*~*~*~*~*~
George awoke with a warm, soft body pressed against his side. He opened his eyes and regretted it immediately. The light from the windows sent pain shooting through his temples and he groaned, clutching his head. The warm body shifted a little and then there was aspirin and a bottle of water and George looked up to thank Cal ... livia. It was Olivia.
The shock on his face was evident and Olivia rubbed his back. "It’s okay, George."
He took the pills and drank the water when he could think of nothing to say. He looked around her bedroom and spotted his clothing, which was tossed on every available surface. When his eyes found the folder ... he remembered signing the papers. Every last one of them. His eyes blurred with tears and he stood. "Where’s the bathroom?"
"Down the hall and to the right."
"I’ll be back in a minute."
George picked up his boxers and slipped them on. In the bathroom, he splashed water on his face and gazed at the pale, drawn man that stared back at him in the mirror. His eyes were red, rimmed with hollow shadows; the ghost of what had been had hung years on his face. He hated himself more in that moment than he had ever hated anything before. Self loathing was a small comfort, however, and he needed more.
After rinsing his mouth several times and wondering how anyone could pee as much as he did, he went back to Olivia’s room and grabbed his jeans. Olivia sat on the bed, watching his every move. He finally looked at her after he pulled his shirt over his head. "We’re late for work," he said.
"I called and told them you were sick and I was taking care of you." She let the blanket fall from her chest and crawled to the foot of the bed, naked. "I *can* take care of you."
George let her hug him, let her whisper in his ear that she had never stopped caring for him or wanting him. It felt good to hear it, to feel her hands on him, to feel her breath against his ear. He didn’t love her, he didn’t even like her very much, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered when you were at the bottom of the world.
He stayed for the entire day, blowing off work entirely.
And as he watched her ride him, felt her clench around him, he knew that he could never go back.
He wouldn’t let memories of raven hair or a tribal tattoo or a very bendy body take anything else from him.
There was nothing left to give up ... except his ring.
When Olivia drove him to Meredith’s later on in the day, his wedding band was in his pocket. He could feel it there, against his thigh. He kept brushing his hand over it. He kept rubbing the indentation on his finger and the flexing the digit as if it could make it go away, but he was relieved when it didn't.
Izzie came home and forced him to eat, forced him to talk to her about everything that had happened the previous day. She had cried with him, held his hand, and listened. It felt good to be Izzie and George again: friends without any complications.
She stood beside him a while later, as he sobbed over the toilet, vomiting, shaking ... because he had flushed his ring down the drain in a fit of rage.
And it was as lost to him as Callie was.
There would be no getting it back.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Rating: NC17 (vaguely)
Pairing: Addison/Mark, Callie/George, Callie/Alex, George/Izzie, Meredith/Derek
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to fall, but if you're lucky someone may catch you. And they may be falling, too.
A/N: I cried writing this. I don't know if you will, but I'm saying there's a tissue warning to be had. So ... you're warned.
A/N 2: I almost didn't post this at all. I'm skerrred.
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Nine
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Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
*~*~*~*~*~
Don't think "I'm sorry" is what we need to say
Don't think forgiveness is why we're here today
Guilty, we're both guilty, let's walk through that door
A second chance is what I'm talkin' about
Let's take the hurt and turn it inside out
Lay it on me baby until I can't take anymore
No mercy, show me no mercy
Love me all night long and don't hurry
Take it slow and easy, no mercy tonight
Hold me baby, you know I've been hurtin
Love this love back to life cause it's worth it
Love me strong baby, show me no mercy tonight
- Ty Herndon
*~*~*~*~*~
Callie sailed the yacht just off the Farallon Islands before she dropped the anchor and sighed. Her hands trembled as she took the key from the ignition and she envisioned the shark again. She had come close to dying. So had Alex. They had practically looked the Grim Reaper right in the eye. When she had woken up in the hospital and was told that she could have died, she had taken the news with a grain of salt. She genuinely didn’t *care* either way. Life and death had become interchangeable things in her mind that left her all alone either way ... whether it was in the ground or in her marriage. In Vegas, George had been a good husband. In Seattle, George had not been a husband at *all*. She was alone. Whether it was six feet under or over was of no consequence to her at the time.
It didn’t really feel like a suicide attempt. Not exactly. She had just wanted to rest for a while ... but waking up had been ... well, a disappointment. She had been honest with her parents. She wouldn’t have minded dying. Even by her own hand. Life had stepped out of her control and she wasn’t willing to fight for it. She was exhausted. The thought of everyone knowing that Izzie Stevens had stolen her husband, the thought of women looking at her the same way she looked at *those* women who let a man walk all over them ... all of it ate at her every waking moment. Maybe a little part of her had figured that if she died in the parking garage ... she wouldn’t be a laughingstock. She’d still be pathetic, but no one would laugh.
Maybe.
‘No, it’s not a maybe. You knew. You wanted it to end,’ she thought. ‘You knew it when you bought the second bottle.’
The truth settled into the pit of her stomach like a ball of acid when she finally admitted it to herself and she put a hand over her mouth, her eyes welling with tears. She had wanted to die. She knew that she had consumed enough alcohol in the first bottle to do it, but she still opened the second and poured more down her throat. She had been thinking about death, about ceasing to exist.
She had also been thinking that she wanted to go ahead and take George back that day, but not for the reasons she should have. George had the endearing family and Callie had loved Harold very much; she had talked to Harold about love a million and one times. George was adorably awkward and so cute at times that it hurt. George had been the heart in the elevator guy, but that didn’t mean he knew how to handle the heart of a woman who had never given hers away before. And Callie *had* loved him. With all she had. She had loved him enough to settle into second or third place just for a moment of his time.
Callie was not built for second or third place, though. Her entire life ... she had refused to settle for less than the best for herself. In medical school, even though she didn’t want to be there, she had excelled effortlessly. She had refused to *do* less than that. Her father had instilled a sharp sense of integrity and unshakeable dignity into her. She put her mind to something and she succeeded without fail. She wanted to fly planes so she did. She wanted to scale mountains so she did. And she did it to be best of her abilities.
She didn’t know HOW to fail.
She had taken George back simply because she couldn’t stand the thought of losing the war.
To Izzie Stevens.
It shocked her now ... how easy it was to think of George doing God knew what with Izzie. Or anyone else for that matter. A part of her love had died with his admission of infidelity and he had taken the little that remained and threw it back at her by lying to her again. Seeing him with Stevens in the stairwell had been the eraser she needed. He was gone from her heart, from her mind, and she was sad and relieved. She was hurt and elated. She was shocked and soothed.
She could breathe without him just fine because the air was cleaner.
And Calliope Iphegenia Torres wanted to breathe. She wanted to live.
It had taken a fifteen foot shark to truly wake her up enough to take stock, but it had worked. She wanted to *live*.
She didn’t have to wonder why.
Her reason was on the yacht with her.
Alex listened to her and heard what she was saying even if he had to read it between the lines. He had conversations with her that weren’t always about his friends or himself. He asked her questions, he laughed at her quirks instead of questioning them, and he never made her feel bad about herself. If she did gain weight again ... he would *like* her curves the same way she had made peace with them because it was a Torres thing and he seemed to like that she was a Torres. And she knew, better than she knew how to fly, that Alex would have stood up against her parents and shot down the rehab idea. George, once again, had sided against her, this time choosing her parents over her. She was perpetually last with George ... or as close to last place as she could get and still be on the scoreboard.
Alex, she realized, gave her roots and wings ... just like her plane. He supplied her with the inner-strength and support to take flight, but gave her a safe place to land when she was tired. Or when she needed two strong arms around her. He had seen her at her best and enjoyed the hell out of the view, but he had also seen her at her worst and never once looked the other way. He looked into her when she hurt and knew how to fix it. He didn’t run, didn’t push her away, and he knew when to give her space.
Alex *knew* Callie more than George had ever attempted to know her.
And she had shot him down.
Standing, she gazed down at the water. He had jumped in to save her even though he knew that a shark was present. He had been willing to die with her the same way she had been willing to die with Cambyses all those years ago when they had sank the yacht. She had been willing to die with Cam because she loved him. She knew what love felt like and she had lied to Alex by saying she didn’t believe anymore.
Callie believed.
She believed with every fiber of her being that the heart she had taken back from George was tattered and torn, shell shocked and scarred, but it belonged to Alex Karev and there was nothing she could do about it. He had gotten into her and she couldn’t, wouldn’t, push him back out.
Making up her mind, she nodded her resolve and headed below deck. The door of the starboard bedroom was shut and she knocked lightly. "Alex? Can I talk to you? Please?"
She knocked again when he didn’t answer. "I didn’t mean what I said to you earlier and - and I don’t want to have Disneyland. Not that Disneyland wasn’t perfect because it was and I loved it, but, I want San Francisco, Alex. And I want Seattle, too. With you. I - I didn’t try to throw my life away by going in the water, but I know that I’m throwing it away if I don’t take this chance. I want to take a chance with you because I *do* trust you and I do lo-"
"Don’t say it. If I can’t then you can’t." Alex spoke behind her, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. He had to fight hard not to smile, but somehow he managed.
She turned quickly and looked up at him. "You can say it. I won’t freak out again."
He walked past her and sat on the leather sofa in the salon. He was going to make it very hard on her because almost dying for someone gave you the *right* to bust their chops. Especially when they deserved it. Besides, it could be fun to watch her squirm. "No. I don’t think I’ll be saying it again."
She had been walking toward the sofa as well, but his words made her pause. "You mean ever? Or right now?"
"I don’t know."
"You don’t know?"
"Wasn’t that what you said to me when I asked you what was left if I couldn’t love you?"
Her eyes widened. "Please don’t throw my words back at me. I know you get off on the quoting thing, but can you say something original? I’m trying here. I’m trying to meet you halfway and explain that I get it. I finally get it."
"What do you get?"
"Us."
"What exactly were you getting when you asked me to come on this trip? What were you getting when you had sex with me? Besides off, I mean." He waited for her to answer, but she didn’t. "You don’t want to talk now? I can’t say that I mind. So far you haven’t said anything I really want to hear."
"That would be because you won’t stop running your mouth, Jock Strap! I am trying to tell you that I’m ready! I am ready to do this with you!" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Though your attitude is making me contemplate tossing your ass back in the water."
He narrowed his eyes. "I’d like to see you try."
"I can’t think of a better thing to say than fuck you."
"We’ve covered that already. Many times and many ways." He tilted his head a little, trying to hide his amusement. "Are you going to apologize for almost getting me killed?"
"No, smart ass, I’m not going to apologize because *you* are the one who jumped. Not me."
"Oh, right. You just fell off the boat and-"
"I was *playing* with dolphins."
"Can you explain to me why you would choose to go *play* with dolphins instead of coming down here and apologizing to me? We had a fight. It was a bad one." He opened his arms wide. "And I know that my dramatic exit was Oscar worthy and that was your cue to follow me and talk to me."
"I didn’t know what to say!"
"How about an apology? The one I’m still waiting for."
"I’m sorry that you don’t have any common sense and almost killed yourself for me."
He put his hand over his heart. "That was so touching. You know, if you’re into being rubbed the wrong way."
"I’ve been sleepwalking, Alex. Okay? And I finally woke up."
"Could you make sense? At least a little?"
Callie glared at him and then took a seat beside him, crossing her legs. She angrily waved her foot back and forth and said, "I am not a stupid person. Granted, the past few months have been an orgy of stupidity for me, but I am not a stupid person. I know that it’s idiotic to leap from one failed relationship into a new one without so much as a backward glance." She met his eyes. "But I’m not looking back and I don’t want us to fail because as much as it pains me to admit that a jock could make sense ... you do. So I’m in this. All the way."
Alex couldn’t hide his smile any longer. He smirked at her, but it faded when she picked up a pillow and hit him with it. "WHAT?" he snapped, catching it before she could hit him again.
"Do not laugh at me!"
"Laughter is out loud. I didn’t make a sound."
"I take it back. I don’t like you. At all." She shot to her feet and was headed for her bedroom when he caught her around the waist. He executed a wrestling move that had her on her back with her arms pinned over her head in less than three seconds and she tried to buck him off. "Alex, so help me God-"
"You better pray, Cal, because the things that I’m going to do to you will secure your ticket to Hell. Save me a spot." He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head. He devoured her neck instead. "You like me, Gothika, you really, really like me. You pretty much told me so."
Callie glared at him. "You know, I think I’m going to get the fish out of the freezer and chum the water before I push you in."
"You’re not in any position to push, baby," Alex replied, grinding his hips against her center. "But I am."
She finally smiled up at him and shook her head. "No. We’re not having sex of any kind until we finish this conversation."
"Nothing says ‘I’m sorry’ like multiple orgasms." Alex leaned down to kiss her and this time she didn’t pull away. He put everything into it and when he pulled back, he was breathing hard. "I’m sorry, by the way."
"For which part?" she asked. "There are so many things you should apologize for."
"For telling you we’d always have Disneyland."
"It was a nicely executed breakup. Oscar worthy."
"That wasn’t a breakup." He rubbed his nose against hers. "You’re so cute when you’re pissed."
"Well, you seem to be keeping me that way."
"You’re even cuter in the throes of passion."
"You seem to be keeping me that way as well."
"We do need to talk." He kissed her neck again and let her arms go. She hugged him and he rolled them slightly so that she was lying in the crook of his arm. "I thought that shark had bitten you, Cal. I’ve never heard anyone scream like you did."
"I thought it had bitten me, too." She put her hand on his lower stomach and rubbed the tight muscles there. "That was a scream for life. I didn’t want to die. Not this time, Alex."
He tensed up beside her. "But you did last time? No ... don’t answer that. Because if you say you did then I’m going to get pissed and -"
"Then you’ll have to get pissed because I need to tell you this. I knew what I was doing. I knew it was enough to end it. I - I wanted to." She pushed herself up on her elbow and gazed down at him. His jaw was tight and he was staring at the ceiling. "But you called and I answered. My phone rang twenty times and I only answered you."
He took a deep breath and looked at her. "Death cannot stop true love. It can only delay it for a while."
"You’re a great Westley." She smiled. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Knowing what you know now about what I did," she said. "Would you have agreed with my parents and told me to go to rehab?"
"No." He studied her face. "What you did - you don’t need to be shut away from the people who love you. What’s that gonna do besides make you feel more alone? You’re not alone. I’m here. I’m always here. And I would have told your parents to kiss your ass and then mine."
"That’s hot."
"What is it with rich chicks and that phrase?" Alex held her a little closer. "It’s my turn to ask something."
"Go ahead."
"When we get back to Seattle and go to work it’s going to be weird for a while. People are going to talk and have opinions and judge us. Are you okay with that?"
"I’m fine with it. Are you?"
"I don’t give a shit what people think, but it won’t be as hard on me. I’m not married."
"I told my dad to get the divorce started. He will."
"And you’re going to sign it and be done. Just like that?" He was looking at the far wall now.
Callie turned his face so she could see him. "Izzie once told me that my marriage was just a piece of paper. Truer words were never spoken. I hate her and she’s always been a bitch to me, but she was right. And I’m going to shred that paper myself and then sign whatever I have to so that I can be with you with nothing hanging over us."
"That works for me." He pulled her on top of him and put his arms behind his head. "So, we’re going to Alcatraz tomorrow. What else are you gonna show me?"
"The future," she replied, leaning down to kiss him. When she sat back up, she peeled her bathing suit off her shoulders and down around her waist. "One mind blowing orgasm at a time."
"That actually works for me too."
"I thought it might. Wanna see just how flexible I am?"
He nodded.
And was amazed.
*~*~*~*~*~
George sat at the Emerald City Bar. He looked at Joe and nodded, holding up his shot glass. The folder that contained his divorce papers sat in front of him and he had looked at them enough to burn the image into his brain. The Torres family had decided to buy him out. As Joe filled his glass, George said, "They’re offering me twenty-five thousand and her car. And everything we bought while we were married. Which ... wasn’t much. You know? Mostly room service and clothes and stuff."
Joe heard the way George slurred his words and set the bottle back behind the bar. "I’m cutting you off. That’s your last drink of the night."
"She’s with Alex. Did you know that? My wife is with Alex Karev. I stopped counting the days and how many times they’ve probably -" He trailed off and grabbed his head. "I’m not drunk enough to think about it."
Tossing his towel over his shoulder, Joe reached out and gripped George’s shoulder. "You need to eat something. You want a sandwich? Some hot wings?"
"I want to go back in time and erase what I did."
"I can’t help you with that, buddy."
"Do you know what it’s like to be left?"
"Yeah."
"Did you cause it?"
"I was left for someone else. That’s about as low as a person can feel, I think."
George emptied his glass. "I never thought about leaving her for Izzie. I just - I never thought. You know? It was meaningless sex."
"You drunk dialed me that night. You and Izzie. Izzie said that you were mad at Callie and needed her to make you like her again, but she couldn’t because Callie was a fat insecure bitch. You agreed with her, George, but you added that she was a psycho mistake and a ferret loving whore."
"I don’t remember that!"
"I’m not surprised. Alcohol loosens the tongue. I see it every night and most of the time the things that get said are brutal, but they’re still a reflection of how you feel."
"I - I didn’t mean whatever I said." George put his head in his hands. "What do I do, Joe?"
Joe leaned on his elbows in front of the other man. "I can’t tell you what to do. I can only tell you that in my opinion you got married really fast and it was right after your dad died. And I have witnessed first hand the way that Izzie treats Callie and you never said a word to stop it when it happened. I know that you saw it, too."
George had to nod. He held his glass up and said, "Just one more?"
"How are you getting home?"
"I’ll drive him."
George glanced to his left. Nurse Olivia had taken a seat beside him and was gazing at him with sympathy. "Hey," he said.
"Everyone knows," she told him. "Good news travels fast."
"What is that supposed to mean?" George asked her, then noticed that Joe had walked away without filling his glass again. "Damn it."
"You’ve had enough. You’ve had enough of Callie, enough of a dead end marriage, and enough to drink. So, stop." Olivia put her hand on his. "Just stop."
George looked at her, leaning his chin against his palm. "You hate her, too. Everyone hates her."
Olivia shrugged. "I didn’t hate her until she stole you."
"I wasn’t stolen. I went willingly."
"No, you didn’t. She forced your hand. Everyone who knows you saw that she was overbearing and clingy. She’s toxic, George. She is. And you’re better off without her."
"Don’t call my wife toxic."
"Don’t call her your wife. Nurse Tyler saw her making out with Alex in an empty room the other day. They were all over each other."
George blinked. "No. No, you’re wrong."
"I saw them in the stairwell myself."
George felt his stomach turn over and laid his head on the folder. "Are you sure?"
"I’m positive. It was - it was right before they confronted you and Izzie. Right before they left town. They came into the stairwell and I was a floor above them taking a break. I looked down in time to see them kissing."
George looked at her. "Do you have a pen?"
"Yeah." She dug through her purse, found one, and then watched as he scribbled in the file. "What’s that?"
"Divorce papers."
She patted him on the back and her hand lingered over his neck. "I don’t have to take you to Meredith’s house."
George closed the folder and looked at her. "Good, because I was going home with you."
"Then let’s go."
He stood and wobbled on his feet.
Olivia linked her arm through his and he stopped her, kissing her roughly in the middle of the crowded room.
They had sex in her car in the parking lot of the bar and again at her apartment.
And he didn’t lose his erection once.
*~*~*~*~*~
"Good morning, Jock Strap." Callie kissed Alex softly on the forehead and put the tray over his legs. "I made waffles. Belgian ones."
"Good morning, Morticia." Alex rubbed his eyes and pushed himself upward, looking down at the elegant spread of food she had brought into the bedroom. "You get that I’m over our fight, right?"
"I do." Callie sat between his outstretched legs, the tray of food between them. She smothered the waffles with syrup, cut into one, and held it out to him. "Go ahead. Tell me I can cook."
"You proved that last night with the pork chops. You think I could lick the syrup off your belly the way I did the barbeque sauce?"
"If we do that we’ll never see the city."
He grinned at her, his mouth still full. "Is that why you’re up so early?"
"I sailed us a little closer. If you eat fast we can see the sunrise." She took a bite and savored it. "I want to kiss you when we go under the Golden Gate. My daddy said that any kiss under that bridge is a forever kiss."
"I thought we covered that kiss with our first one." He took another bite that she offered and then sipped his orange juice. The food was amazing, but the smile on her face was even more satisfying. Her cheeks were rosy and she was eating again so life was good. "You’re happy. I love seeing you this way."
"I love feeling this way. It’s more than happy." She fed him a slice of apple. "You should think about going into cardiology. You fixed my heart and I didn’t think it could be done."
"I’m only interested in hearts that talk to mine."
"You’re repulsively cheesy."
"And you love it."
"I do. I really do."
"What are we doing today? Besides Alcatraz?"
"I was going to suggest the aquarium, but I’ve had enough marine life to last a lifetime." She made a face. "If we do the night tour of the prison then we have all day to explore. The trolleys go everywhere important and they’re fun as hell to ride. I do want to go to Chinatown for sure. They have a place that cooks fresh fortune cookies that makes all of Ross Alley smell like heaven."
"There’s a Ross Alley in Chinatown."
"There is. There’s also a huge theme park over in the bay area, Paramount’s Great America, that has some kick ass thrill rides."
"Yesterday was a big enough thrill ride for me. And nothing is competing with Disneyland."
"Nothing, huh?" She gave him a knowing look. "Because I’m pretty sure that -"
"Stop it. Because if you start talking the way I think you’re going to start talking we will *never* leave this boat again."
"I won’t mind."
They missed the sunrise, but when they finally made it topside, Callie got her kiss under the Golden Gate.
They docked at a small marina and headed into the city, hand in hand.
And heart to heart.
*~*~*~*~*~
"It is too early in the morning for a cesarean. I’m boycotting for a while." Addison put a cup of coffee in front of Mark and sat down, arms over her chest. "I can’t do it. I can’t finish the sixty days."
"Yes, you can," he replied, flipping the page of his magazine.
"Oral sex is still sex, Mark. Unless you’re Bill Clinton. We had sex in my room. So ... let’s stop this nonsense and go to the nearest empty on call room where you can have your wicked way with me." Addison watched him hopefully. When he didn’t look at her, she yanked her glasses out of her pocket and shoved them on her face, then snatched his magazine. "Are you reading porn?"
He watched her flip to the cover of the Newsweek and picked up the coffee she had brought him, sipping it. It took all of his resolve to swallow it because it was the nastiest thing he had ever tasted. "Addison?"
"What?"
"We can have sex."
She pulled her glasses off and smiled triumphantly. He caught her arm when she started to stand. "Addison? We can have sex when you can make me a cup of coffee the way I like it."
Addy slumped back into her seat. "How do you like it? I’ll do it right now."
"That’s for me to know and you to find out."
"Oh, yay, we’re playing kindergarten and I didn’t get the memo."
He took his Newsweek back. "You didn’t get many memos at all, apparently. You don’t know me the way I know you. You’ve never cared to learn. If you had, you would know that I like to read a magazine, this particular magazine, before I head into a huge surgery. If you had checked the date when you looked at it then you would see that it’s the coverage of September Eleventh and you’d remember that Derek and I helped out at Ground Zero that day."
Addison chewed her bottom lip. "I do know you."
"Do you? What did I do after my dad died?"
"You - you went to Martha’s Vineyard with Derek’s family and skipped the funeral."
"Why did I do that?" He watched her, waiting for her response. When she didn’t reply, he added, "I went to Martha’s Vineyard because my mother planned a party instead of a funeral. She was dancing on his grave before it was even dug and she had all of her boyfriends lined up as dance partners."
"I didn’t think you were close to your father."
"I wasn’t close to any of them, Addison, but I’ve still got a heart. It would have destroyed him to see her parade her lifestyle right out in the open." He rolled up the magazine and clutched it in his hand. "Today is the anniversary of his death. I don’t remember dates as a rule, but this one is seared into my brain. My mother had Adam Teller over for dinner and I watched them go upstairs, knowing what they were going to do. I fixed my father something to eat and took it into the study, where they had set up a hospital bed for him. He was already gone. And she was laughing upstairs, she was always laughing."
"Oh, Mark." Addison took his hand. "I’m sorry."
"I went upstairs and caught her having sex. I called her a whore and left home. I never went back." He rubbed his thumb on the back of Addy’s hand. "I’ve always treated women as someone to enjoy and discard. I’ve always used sex to make me feel alive and, I guess, to punish all women because in a way, all women are just like her in my head. I’m the manwhore my mother made."
"Don’t. Don’t say that."
"You’ve said it. More than once. And you’re right, I am." He pushed a lock of hair off her cheek. "Only not with you. For the first time in my life I want the shackles and chains, Addison. I’ll even buy them myself because I love you."
Addison moved forward and kissed him. "I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time."
He grinned at her. "We’re still not having sex, but if you want to go to a movie later I’d like that. I don’t want to be ... you know, alone. Not today."
She nodded. "You’re not alone, Mark. Ever."
Mark kissed her again. "I hope you can figure out how I like my coffee by tonight because if you do ... you will be rewarded handsomely."
She traced the stubble on his face with her hand. "I already have been."
*~*~*~*~*~
George awoke with a warm, soft body pressed against his side. He opened his eyes and regretted it immediately. The light from the windows sent pain shooting through his temples and he groaned, clutching his head. The warm body shifted a little and then there was aspirin and a bottle of water and George looked up to thank Cal ... livia. It was Olivia.
The shock on his face was evident and Olivia rubbed his back. "It’s okay, George."
He took the pills and drank the water when he could think of nothing to say. He looked around her bedroom and spotted his clothing, which was tossed on every available surface. When his eyes found the folder ... he remembered signing the papers. Every last one of them. His eyes blurred with tears and he stood. "Where’s the bathroom?"
"Down the hall and to the right."
"I’ll be back in a minute."
George picked up his boxers and slipped them on. In the bathroom, he splashed water on his face and gazed at the pale, drawn man that stared back at him in the mirror. His eyes were red, rimmed with hollow shadows; the ghost of what had been had hung years on his face. He hated himself more in that moment than he had ever hated anything before. Self loathing was a small comfort, however, and he needed more.
After rinsing his mouth several times and wondering how anyone could pee as much as he did, he went back to Olivia’s room and grabbed his jeans. Olivia sat on the bed, watching his every move. He finally looked at her after he pulled his shirt over his head. "We’re late for work," he said.
"I called and told them you were sick and I was taking care of you." She let the blanket fall from her chest and crawled to the foot of the bed, naked. "I *can* take care of you."
George let her hug him, let her whisper in his ear that she had never stopped caring for him or wanting him. It felt good to hear it, to feel her hands on him, to feel her breath against his ear. He didn’t love her, he didn’t even like her very much, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered when you were at the bottom of the world.
He stayed for the entire day, blowing off work entirely.
And as he watched her ride him, felt her clench around him, he knew that he could never go back.
He wouldn’t let memories of raven hair or a tribal tattoo or a very bendy body take anything else from him.
There was nothing left to give up ... except his ring.
When Olivia drove him to Meredith’s later on in the day, his wedding band was in his pocket. He could feel it there, against his thigh. He kept brushing his hand over it. He kept rubbing the indentation on his finger and the flexing the digit as if it could make it go away, but he was relieved when it didn't.
Izzie came home and forced him to eat, forced him to talk to her about everything that had happened the previous day. She had cried with him, held his hand, and listened. It felt good to be Izzie and George again: friends without any complications.
She stood beside him a while later, as he sobbed over the toilet, vomiting, shaking ... because he had flushed his ring down the drain in a fit of rage.
And it was as lost to him as Callie was.
There would be no getting it back.
~*~*~*~*~*~