Title Sunlight In Winter
chap 1/3 Hurt
Author Devylish
Pairing Derek/Callie
Words 2846
AN Derek and Callie both a little, okay a lot, tired of life as they know it, they find themselves bumping in to one another and maybe, saving one another.
Warning end of the last season referred to
Disclaimer On my profile.
(((((())))))
Six months in and physically, he'd pretty much recovered.
Six months in and emotionally, he was hollow.
The healing from the gunshot wound? Basically done. He'd forever have a scar, but he was alive. Alive and wanting to live.
Unfortunately, at the same time that he'd been in that physical life and death situation, Meredith... and their baby...
Everything he'd really ever wanted – other than his skill as a doctor – was gone. It was all gone.
The sharp stabbing pain that surrounded him when he found out their baby was... gone, was now just a dull ache. Ever present, throbbing dully with the pulsing of his heart.
… and the loss of Meredith? It sickened him. It made his gut twist to know that she'd chosen to be by herself versus being with him. That she'd withdrawn in to herself - in to that 'dark twisty' place that she retreated to whenever the world was too much for her - it pissed him off.
He understood that she'd lost something.
He'd lost his hope, his dreams too. He'd lost his child too..
Yeah, yeah, he got that it was different for women. When they lost a child it was... different. But he'd lost too.
And she wouldn't let him in.
Wouldn't let him share the pain.
… wouldn't look to him as part of her future anymore.
And he wanted a future. He wanted a wife and... and another child. And a fucking white picket fence.
He wanted it all, because without it? All he felt was that dull throbbing hollow pain.
Living with that? Living like that?
It didn't feel much like living.
(((()))))
She was done with women.
Completely and totally done with them.
And since she'd already previously crossed men off of her list, she was basically left with tequila.
Tequila and her new vibrator.
Which was fine with her.
Who needed women? Or Men?
Women with their 'I love kids too much to bring them in to the world' attitudes. And men with their 'I'll fuck anything that comes within a ten foot radius of my dick' attitudes.
She was done with them. With all of them.
She knew she wasn't perfect. She was probably a little tougher than she needed to be. Slow to share her affections. But she wasn't a horrible person.
And yet... she was always so alone.
George.
Mark.
Erica.
Mark.
Mark.
And now, Arizona.
She fucking left her – left 'them'- and ran off to Africa. To help the starving children of Africa. And, well, 'woo whoo' for Arizona for doing such a wonderful thing, but what about 'them'? What about Callie and Arizona? And what about the future she'd promised her?
'I want to be with you forever. '…. 'But I really don't want to raise a child with you.' …. 'Oh, and when I said forever, I was referring to the immediate foreseeable future... until something shinier and bigger and better [say Africa?] comes along.'
Callie had given up her family, her job, her home, her friends, all in the name of love. And, apparently, it still wasn't enough.
She was tired of being left behind for bigger and better, shinier and newer.
She was so fucking tired of it all.
(((()))))
"You're out of my OR! I don't want to work with someone who isn't 100% focused on their job! What we're doing is too important to mess up because we're distracted or unfocused!" Derek didn't want to keep yelling at the nurse, she was new and it had been a simple mistake, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from barking at her.
His temper and mood had become shorter and darker in the past few months, and while his patients were still getting top notch care from him, his coworkers and staff were getting the short end of of the stick.
Turning to face the ADON, who someone had pulled in to the scrub room, Derek stated, "I want her off of my rotations."
The nurse in question was pale, hugging her frame in an attempt to keep from crying. "I – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"
"If I hadn't been paying attention to the Syliia you handed me I could have perforated his -"
A hand on his bicep caused him to stop the tirade that was ramping up in him. He turned sharply to see who was deigning to touch him and found himself eye to eye with Callie Torres.
"Dr. Shepherd, can I see you for a minute? I need your input on a patient."
It was a fake request. He knew it, and probably everyone in the room knew it. But it worked. Derek could feel his overheated anger starting to drain away.
Glancing, almost sheepishly around the room once, he turned and followed Callie out of the room.
They walked in silence down the hall until they reached an open on call room.
As soon as they entered the room, he slumped onto a chair, his hand moving over his face as he tried to remove the strain and ugliness that he could still feel tingling in him.
In the continued silence he looked up to see Callie leaning against the door, her back and hands pressed against the wood while her legs stretched out before her, crossed at the ankles.
She wasn't looking at him – he was glad, it was embarrassing enough to be caught in the middle of 'losing it' without having someone, a friend, see the downtrodden aftermath of your tirades.
He managed to force himself to mumble, "Thanks Torres."
She shrugged. "What did she do?"
"Wrong size Syliia – 2cc vs 1cc."
Callie glanced at him, and he flushed.
"Yeah,I know it wasn't on purpose, but still, I could have punctured the -"
Callie cleared her throat and raised a brow.
Derek stopped. "Fine. I'm sorry. I went overboard. It was a mistake."
Callie pushed away from the door and as she opened it she offered some advice. "I'm not the one you should apologize to. Later Shepherd."
((())))
Yang settled in to the booth across from Callie, a gin on her face. "So did you here the latest?"
"The latest what?" She stole a fry from Yang's plate.
"Gossip. Not that I follow gossip. But if I did, this would be the latest."
Callie rolled her eyes. "Regarding whom?"
"McMonster."
McMonster was the newest moniker bestowed upon Shepherd by the staff of SGH as he'd slowly turned from mild mannered, kindhearted brilliant surgeon, to explosive asshat. It had been like watching Dr. Jekyll turn into Mr. Hyde... in slow mo.
Callie squirmed in her seat. "What's the latest?"
"He may be reverting back to McDreamy."
She raised a brow questioningly.
"You know that Rn he browbeat after surgery a couple of days ago?" She took a small breath then clarified, "Not Johnson, the other one, um, Amerson? Emerson? Well anyway, he apologized! Publicly! Gave her an 'I'm sorry' Hallmark or some sort of shit card, and in front of like 4 or 5 other staff, told her he'd been out of line!"
Callie's eyes widened. "He apologized?"
"In public." Yang picked up some fries and popped them in her mouth. "Even stated he'd be happy to have her in his OR in the future."
A small smile – part curiosity, part happiness, part 'holy-shit' – lit Callie's face. "Good for him!"
She hadn't expected Shepherd to actually apologize to Emerson, but it was surprising and nice to hear that he'd done so.
She and pretty much everyone who knew him, had begun to think that the loss of Meredith and the loss of their child had completely broken him.
It was nice to see signs that the old Derek Shepherd still existed.
((())))
Two blocks east of Joe's on the south side of the street was a yuppie bar called Appletarts. It catered to brokers,lawyers financiers, etc. There were occasional members of SGH who would venture into Appletarts, have a drink or two, then head out. Appletarts didn't have the dark wood and faded warmth of Joe's; Everything in it was blond wood and impossibly brilliant chrome. Shiny and slick.
It was the place to go to see and be seen.
Derek still wasn't quite certain how he'd ended up in a booth in Appletarts, all he did know was he'd walked out of Seattle Grace at 6pm and found himself hungry – having forgotten to eat once again.
He'd started walking towards Joe's only to find himself stuck, standing in the middle of the street, watching them. They were standing in the doorway – arms around one another – smiling.
It had been ten months since they'd officially broken up. Fourteen months since they lost the baby.
And at this moment, 10 months didn't seem long enough. 14 months didn't seem anywhere damn near long enough.
He'd turned on his heel and headed away from Joe's, his feet leading him moments later to the anonymity and the loneliness of his current corner in Appletarts. A bowl of soup, half a sandwich and a warm bottle of beer sat beside his open laptop.
He'd spent the last forty minutes trying to split his attention between the food, his files and the people milling around the music filled bar. And unfortunately he was failing miserably at all three. His mind, instead, kept wrestling with the question of Meredith. Of Meredith and him. And what had happened to them after the miscarriage.
Or if he were honest, what had happened to them before the miscarriage.
So much drama. And hurt. And misunderstandings.
Logically, because of all of those things he knew they were better off being 'over'. And realistically, he wanted her to be happy... at heart, he really DID want that. But his heart and his brain also wanted to know how Meredith could be happy... fulfilled... unbroken... just fourteen months later.
When he was still so empty. Sad. Broken. Alone.
So yeah, it was petty. But his heart and mind kept pricking and twisting away inside of him. Asking why, if he still hurt, she didn't.
Misery loves company... right?
(())
Shaking his head and reaching for the now warm bottle of beer, Derek took a sip and looked around the bar, his eyes landing on a woman – tall, statuesque, dark-haired – dancing in the middle of the bar. Her back was to him and she held a beer in her hand, ironically the same kind of beer he was drinking – and her hips were swaying, dipping, left and right in time with the bass heavy jazz beat that echoed through the pub.
Derek held the beer to his mouth, his eyes tracking up and down the woman's frame, her curves – he swallowed hard when he lifted his eyes back up from her hips and realized the 'private dancer' he'd been studying so intensely was none other than Callie Torres.
(((())))
Callie was pretty certain she needed to get laid.
It wasn't that she wanted to get laid – she'd crossed relationships and everything that went with them off of her list two months ago.
So no, it wasn't want... what she was feeling now, at this moment, was need.
She was suffering from this need when she walked out of the hospital a half hour later than planned. It had been a long long day. She was tired. And pissy. And horny.
Breathing out, she watched the visible puff of air float into the cool November air, and tugged her leather jacket closer to her frame.
She looked across the street; she could go to Joe's, but... everyone would be at Joe's. And she didn't want to be around 'everyone'. She wanted to get a drink... or two... or five... and she wanted the oblivion those drinks would provide. The oblivion that would lead to sleeping with some random stranger.
And she was pretty certain she was going to end up in someone elses bed tonight.
Pretty damn certain.
(())
five tequila shots and two beers later and Callie was feeling no pain.
Delightfully buzzed she picked up her third bottle of beer and moved out on to the small dance floor. She was alone, but experience had taught her that she probably wouldn't be alone for long.
Sure enough, four minutes in to her solo dancing – tempo and base and treble moving through her - she felt a presence behind her.
Turning around, on beat with the music she smiled at the Nordic blonde who was moving in time with her.
The blonde let her eyes drop to Callie's chest, then trail back up to her face, and she smiled back... and it was all set.
It was there in the stranger's eyes: they would dance and flirt and smile and … get closer... and then, Callie would go home with the woman.
As the lithe blonde stepped in to Callie's space, placing her hands on Callie's hips, Callie suffered the merest, briefest twinge of conscience – a second of self loathing – and then she blinked and threw back the last of her beer, and her conscience was dampened... the loathing blanketed by physical sensation.
The blonde's hands were demanding and her eyes were soft. Callie watched the tip of her pink tongue dart out, touching the edge of her lower lip then disappear again.
"My name's Eden."
Of course it was... "Hi Eden, I'm -"
"Sorry... she's with me."
Callie blinked as she was separated from her evenings entertainment. A familiar face and figure – Derek Shepherd's – moved between her and the blonde.
She opened her mouth in surprise – to complain – but the liquor she'd imbibed seemed to have caused a short between her lips and her brain. The only thing that came out of mouth was "Shepherd?" And then she was being dragged out of the bar.
She tried speaking again, "Shepherd?"
"Torres." He kept walking, pulling her with him down the street.
"Derek!"
He stopped walking and turned around, his hand wrapped around her bicep. "What?"
"What are you doing?" She meant to sound more pissed, more demanding. She failed.
"I'm stopping you from doing something stupid."
Callie jerked her arm from Derek's grip and self-consciously wrapped her arms around her waist. "What if I want to do something stupid?"
"There's stupid, and there's really stupid." Derek reached for Callie's arm again, this time grabbing her wrist and, turning to head back down the street, he kept talking. "Jumping in to bed with a complete stranger? In this day and age? Drunk as a skunk? That falls under 'really stupid'."
Stumbling after Derek Callie muttered, "I'm not drunk... yet. Just tipsy." Raising her voice she added, "And who says I was going to jump in to bed with anyone!"
Derek came to full stop, turned and faced Callie and raised a brow.
"Fine. Fine! So I was going to get laid. Where's the crime in that? I'm a full grown adult."
Derek surreptitiously let his gaze travel down Callie's form. "You'd hate yourself in the morning if you had a one night stand." He turned back around, still dragging her after him.
"But I'd feel damn good tonight!"
He repeated, "But you'd hate yourself in the morning."
Callie fumed silently for a second then asked, "Where are you taking me?"
"Home."
"Jesus Shepherd, who suddenly made you my mother?"
"Sloan. Sloan would be pissed if I let you do something... dumb."
Callie gave a bark of laughter, "Mark? Mark couldn't care less if I slept my way through the Alphabet at Seattle Grace. Not now that he has Addison back." A small twinge of pain followed by a smaller twinge of guilt shot through her. "Fine. Take me home." She stopped resisting him. "But I'm getting laid tonight."
Derek stopped walking and Callie slammed in to him from behind. "Ouch!"
Derek sighed. If he dropped Callie off at her place, she'd simply wait til he'd left, and she'd head out to the nearest bar and pick up some other one night stand.
Hell. He'd given up on being the Good Samaritan. It got you nowhere.
Yet here he was again.
"Sometimes I hate my life." He pulled at Callie again. This time tugging her to the left.
"Join the club." Callie muttered. "Hey, my place's that way!"
"Yeah, well, we're going to my place."