Title: Say So
Author: vietAngel
Pairing: Callie/Mark friendship.
Rating: K+

Summary: Mark takes care of Callie after she breaks her nose.

Author's Note: This is how season 5 episode 9 should have ended.

I hit the button for the floor that recovery is on and tap my foot impatiently as the elevator makes an all too slow descent. She was the first thing I thought about this morning and she's the last thing I think about every day. I know I can't leave the hospital without at least checking on her. I'm a little surprised to find Dr. Bailey leaving her bedside when I walk up.

"Hey, how's she doing?" I ask her.

"Hurt, exhausted…both emotionally and physically, but she'll be ok," she replies. That I already knew. Callie's a lot stronger than she gives herself credit for.

"She will, whether she likes it or not," I reply with a smirk. Dr. Bailey just shakes her head and bids me goodnight. I hear her mutter something about us being fools, but I don't bother to ask for clarification. My focus is on something much more important.

I turn and there she is. Her hair is unruly, her nose is braced and bandaged, and she has two black eyes…but she's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. The drugs are obviously doing their job because she doesn't even stir when I accidentally bump against the end of her bed. I take a seat at her bedside and just look at her. I wish she was as peaceful on the inside as her sleeping form appears to be on the outside. Just so I can touch her, I brush some strands of hair from her forehead and finally her eyes flutter open slowly.

"Hey you, welcome back," I say with a smile.

"Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you would have gone home by now." She asks, her voice hoarse and heavy from sleep and legal narcotics.

"I'm hurt that you think I'd just bail on you like that," I reply lightheartedly, even though I am truly a little offended. "Is that any way to treat the guy who came to bust you out of this joint? I brought you a present and everything."

I pull the bag containing her antibiotics and pain meds from my inside jacket pocket and she laughs, and then winces in pain. I know I shouldn't, but I feel guilty. I was in there, I should have restrained the guy…or switched places with her so I could have taken the hit instead if her. I know it's not realistic, but that's the way I feel.

"So are we doing this legally, or am I going AWOL?" she asks as I start to unhook her from the monitors.

"It's legal, I ran it by the Chief and he gladly approved of me signing you out," I say, helping her into the clothes I raided her locker for. "He mentioned something about you driving him crazy when he admitted you for dehydration a couple of years ago."

"Yeah, I pestered him until he let me go home. I'm a doctor, give me a couple of bags of saline and send me on my way…I can administer my own drip from the comfort of my home," she replied.

"You're crazy Torres, you know that?" I reply with a laugh.

"Yes, but you love it," she shoots back—and I do. "Hey, how did I get in my clothes?"

"I see the drugs haven't worn off yet," I say, laughing again. "Let's go. Yang is waiting for us. She ordered pizza and pay-per-view."

I finish tying her shoe and help her up. She refuses the wheelchair just as I knew she would, so I keep a firm grip around her waist as we make our way out the doors to prevent her from falling over. The painkillers must work well because she doesn't utter a sound as the cold night air whips around her face. We make it across the street and up to her apartment in one piece. I don't even bother fishing for her keys and knock instead.

"Wow, you look like hell," Cristina says to Callie as she swings the door open. "It's kind of kick-ass though—makes you look hardcore."

"Thanks—I think," Callie replies.

"Oh, and your bath is ready."

"My what? You ran a bath for me?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"Aww, you care."

"I do not! I just know you're going to be sore if you don't soak, and I don't want to hear you whining all night. I'm not playing nurse, so shut up and go take your bath, Torres."

"Ok, but I see four of you right now so I'm going to need some help getting out of my clothes."

"Fine, but keep your hands to yourself. I know you have a thing for cardio gods," Cristina shoots back as she takes Callie off my hands. I have the pleasure of listening to them argue the whole way to Callie's bathroom.

"I should be saying that to you…you're the one who said I looked hot in my Darth Vader panties," Callie retorts.

"I didn't say you were hot, I said the panties were hot."

"Whatever, you ran me a bath—you care."

"I hate you."

"You love me," Callie replies, and it's the last thing I hear before the bathroom door slams closed.

I'd rather sit in silence than be alone with Yang, so when she finally makes her way back to the living room I retreat in to Callie's room to wait for her to finish her bath.

I thumb through five of her Buffy the Vampire Slayer comic books and debate whether to bust the door down and check on her when she finally emerges. She doesn't even bat an eyelash at the fact that I'm stretched out on her bed and commandeering her reading materials. It's what we do. We invade each other's personal space. She steals my drinks—I steal the tomatoes off her sandwiches.

She flashes me a small smile over her shoulder as she rifles through her underwear drawer. I try not to think about the fact that she's naked under that towel as she slips her panties on beneath it…it could lead to an embarrassing situation for me. My body is a traitor. It likes her better than me. I know because as soon as she drops that towel and I get a glimpse of the smooth, caramel colored expanse of her bare back before she slips her t-shirt on…that embarrassing situation I mentioned becomes a reality. She notices as soon as she turns around, but she's a proper lady when she wants to be and doesn't mention it.

"Feeling better?" I ask as she takes a seat beside me on the bed.

"I only see one of you now."

"I'll take that as a yes then."

"I need pants," she says out of nowhere, and for a second I think she must still be high. She must know because she clarifies immediately.

"Yang made me promise not to walk around the apartment in my underwear for a week in exchange for her not drowning me in the bathtub," she says.

'Doesn't sound like much of a deal to me," I say.

"I know, but she's taking care of me in her own special—and by special I mean insane—way, so I can resist torturing her for a week."

She stands to go in search of pants and for the first time I realize her panties have "Queen of Sleep" written across her ass. Very cute and very true. She pulls a pair of clean sweatpants out of her laundry basket that I recognize as mine. She must have stolen them the last time she slept over after we had one of our bitching and drinking sessions at the Archfield.

A half an hour later and the three of us have devoured two pizzas and a 2 liter Pepsi. Callie's stretched out on the sofa with her feet in my lap and she and Cristina laugh hysterically every time someone gets killed off in the movie. We're watching Saw. Cristina and Callie both think horror movies are hilarious…they're both insane. I'm sure everyone wonders why and how they are roommates, but all you need to do is spend some time with them together to see. They'll never admit it, but they adore each other.

Halfway through the movie, Callie takes her next round of painkillers and antibiotics—and before we know it she's completely knocked out. I hear Yang snort as a stand and brush the hair from Callie's forehead. She thinks I'm an idiot and at this point I'd have to agree with her. I don't bother with a retort and focus on the task at hand. I hold my breath as I easily scoop Callie up. I let it out when I realize I didn't wake her. Yang jumps up and sprints ahead of me to Callie's room. She's in and out before I get there to see what she's doing, but when I make it to the doorway I see that Callie's bed is turned down. Callie's right, she does care.

I put her down gently and tug her sweatpants off. She doesn't like sleeping in them. I know for a fact that she prefers not to sleep in t-shirts either, but I'm not going there. I think about going home, but in the end I justify staying by telling myself that it's so I'll be around in case she needs anything in the middle of the night. It's bullshit and I know it. I'm there because I love her—I'm in love with her and it scares the shit out of me because I don't know if she feels the same way. I mean, there are signs…but I could be wrong.

I stop thinking long enough to strip down to my undershirt and boxers and crawl in beside her. I check to make sure she's properly covered and asleep before I say what I need to say.

"I love you," I whisper in her ear, sealing my words with a kiss to her temple. I could swear she smiles a little in her sleep, but I could be hallucinating.

I'm a firm believer in telling a person how you feel…

…I'm just not ready to say it while she's awake yet.

Fin.