Title: What It Is To Burn
Author: VietAngel
Rating: T

Summary: Callie reaches her breaking point.
Warnings: a little smut, a lot of angst, and character death

Author's Note: I'm probably a terrible person for this, and it's one of the most difficult pieces I've ever written…but it just had to be done. I hate how the Callie/George breakup was handled on the show. He was the bad guy, he hurt a person he was supposed to love in a way that is unforgivable, but he was let off the hook unscathed. That sucks. It's horrible and it sucks.

Soundtrack:

Finch – "What It Is To Burn"
The Cardigans – "Last Song"
The Cranberries – "Dying In The Sun"
Aimee Allen – "Silence Is Violence"
The Veils – "Vicious Traditions"
Marc Anthony – "Que Lío"

It was the silence that caused her the most pain. The silence was what made her chest ache and burn as if the air around them was too heavy to breathe. She never thought she would become that woman, but sometimes she wished he would just hit her…yell, scream, choke her, anything other than what he was doing now. The silence was more violent than any physical punishment he could heft upon her. At least that way she'd know he felt something, but this…it felt like she was invisible to him. She was some spectrum of light beyond his scope of vision. He was numb, and she was inconsequential.

There was a stabbing pain in her heart whenever he was around. She felt as if her heart was literally breaking and he didn't even care. She knew she should end it, but she still loved him…and that had been the problem from the very start. She told him she loved him and he couldn't say it back. He didn't feel it then and she realized that he never had. She had never been in love before…had never fallen head over heels for anyone until he came along. It killed her that he didn't feel the same way.

She couldn't remember when she had become one of the living dead…the kind of person that just went through the motions of life. She used to love life—she used to laugh and sing and be happy. Now she haunted the halls of Seattle Grace…a shell of her former self, both mentally and physically. Her body was fifty pounds lighter, but her heart felt like it weighed a ton.

They lived in the same house, worked in the same hospital, but it still felt as if there were a million miles between them. He didn't touch her, didn't look at her—when he passed her in the halls he wouldn't acknowledge her, not even a slight nod or wave. She couldn't remember when they had become like this.

She could vaguely remember a time when they were happy. They had spent eight blissful days in Las Vegas. Eight blissful days of trashy Elvis weddings, pay-per-view movies, and making love. Eight blissful days of him looking at her like she was the best thing to ever happen to him. Now she wasn't even a blip on his radar. When did it happen? When did he start hating her?

Maybe it was the fact that she forgave him. He cheated, and she forgave him even though it went against everything in her to do so. She forgave him because she loved him and she wanted the dream. She wanted the dream with him, and he wanted it with someone else. He stayed anyway…because he didn't believe in divorce, he couldn't be the one to ask for it, because they found out she was pregnant and he was the kind of man that would stay for the baby's sake. Maybe it was the miscarriage that made him hate her. It had been two years, but she remembered that night as if it were yesterday...

They had just returned from their appointment with Addison. George still had a goofy smile on his face. They had gotten to listen to their baby's heartbeat for the first time and it was the most incredible thing ever. Callie yawned and plopped down on the sofa. Pregnancy was taking a toll on her body, she was fourteen weeks along and exhausted. George chuckled and shook his head as she dramatically sprawled across the sofa on her back and closed her eyes. He tugged her shirt up and put his hand on her belly, then leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. She smiled with her eyes closed and yawned again. He chuckled again and suggested that they go to bed. He tugged her to her feet and led her upstairs where she promptly sprawled across the bed.

When she attempted to kick off her shoes, he stopped her and removed them along with the rest of her clothes, leaving her in nothing but her panties. He shed his own clothes and then pulled back the covers so they could crawl into bed. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow and he watched her for a while. Midnight hair, toffee colored skin, warm chocolate eyes…she was beautiful. Looking at her like that, glowing with pending motherhood, he wondered how he could have ever wanted someone else. He sighed and brushed the hair from her forehead, kissed her temple softly. Their relationship had been strained at best, but with the baby came new hope. The baby had given them the chance to start anew and rekindle what had been lost in their relationship. He cuddled up to her and fell asleep.

George awoke a few hours to find himself hovering precariously near the edge of the bed. He looked over to Callie and smiled as he saw she was still sleeping peacefully. Her skin looked paler than he remembered, but he chalked that up to the silver moonlight falling perfectly across her body. She was on her back with the blankets bunched around her waist, leaving her breasts and stomach fully exposed. He hoped that a few hours of rest had given her enough of an energy boost for her not to be pissed about what he was inching closer to do. He snaked his hand into her panties intent on waking her with a mind blowing orgasm, but was surprised at the sticky slickness that quickly coated his fingers. For a second he thought she was just having a really good dream, but he knew something was terribly wrong when he inserted a finger into her and felt a warm gush of fluid.

Panic immediately set in and he ripped the covers from the bed only to find the most horrible sight he'd ever seen. The mattress was soaked in blood. He shook Callie, but she wouldn't wake. Her skin was cold, clammy…her pulse was thready, barely there. He grabbed the phone from the night table and dialed 911. He couldn't believe this was happening. She shivered and he pulled it together enough to dress her…in her Harvard sweatshirt, yoga pants, socks—but her skin was still cold, so cold. While he waited for the ambulance to arrive he hugged her body to his, being sure to place his ear near her nose and mouth so he could make sure she was still breathing. He sobbed as he held her in his arms—mourning the loss of their child, and their marriage.

The paramedics finally arrived and pried her away from him. He rode to the hospital in his boxers because he hadn't thought to get dressed himself when he dressed her. He stared blankly as his friends and colleagues covered their mouths in shock at the sight of Callie being brought in on a stretcher, and George in nothing but his boxers—both of them covered in blood. Addison rushed forward with tears in her eyes at the sight of her friend, but quickly swallowed them back and got to work. George just stood there watching the stretcher get further and further away as Callie was rushed into the OR.

He didn't know how he'd gotten there, but hours later he found himself in a waiting room, dressed in scrubs, with Cristina and Meredith and Alex by his side. He looked up hopefully as Addison finally emerged, but the tears began to flow as her sad, tired eyes met his. She told him what he had already known. Callie was alive, but had suffered a miscarriage. What he hadn't known was that her uterus had been destroyed in the process and an emergency hysterectomy had to be performed to quell the bleeding. At thirty-two years old, Callie had lost her ability to ever bear children. Addison offered to tell her, but he wanted to do it himself…he owed her that much.

When she awoke, he was right there beside her, holding her hand. He spoke softly as if he thought she would break if his voice rose above a whisper. It didn't help. She shattered into a billion pieces right there before him as he finally broke the news about the hysterectomy. How could something like that happen this day in age with all the technology and medical advances? Neither of them knew. Addison sobbed and the rest of the surgical staff cringed as they heard Callie's screams all the way down the hall. It sounded like someone was killing her…but her heart was the only thing dying. George held her in his arms and rocked her—he demanded that Chief Webber sedate her when he could hear the raw pain in her throat as she screamed. That was the last time George ever touched her deliberately.

Neither of them was ever the same after that. Callie felt like a failure and threw herself into her work with single-minded focus. That woman with the sparkle in her eyes, fire in her belly, and infectious laughter died with the baby. Callie walked around like a zombie, and George was always angry. He yelled at everyone except Izzie and rarely smiled. Things got worse for Callie as soon as Addison left. Addison had begged her to leave for L.A. with her…begged her to leave the farce of a marriage that she knew was killing her best friend. Callie refused. George didn't love her and she knew that, but she didn't think any man would love her when they could just as easily find a woman who could give them everything, including children.

She had just completed a ten hour surgery and she was exhausted. Her head was pounding and her whole body ached. As she shuffled slowly toward the exit, she rolled her head to relieve the tension in her neck and something in the conference room caught her eye. George was in there, and so was Izzie Stevens—they were kissing. Callie just stood there, unable to look away until finally…the single, fragile, thread that had been holding the broken pieces of her together snapped. Suddenly she knew…she couldn't do it anymore. For the first time in two years, Callie straightened her back and held her head high.

She passed Mark Sloan on her way out and he smiled at her as if she had just come back from a long vacation. She was almost to her car when she turned around and ran back into the building. She found Mark and she did something she had wanted to do again for a very long time. She grabbed him by the collar and kissed him roughly, purposefully. He was startled at first, but quickly began to follow her lead. It was late and there was hardly anyone around. He easily hoisted her into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. By the time they reached the on-call room, Callie's head was spinning.

He rid them both of their clothes in record time. Before she could register what was happening his tongue was drawing warm, wet circles around the sensitive little bundle of nerves between her legs, and while the fingers of one of his hands found their way inside her, the other was doing amazing things to her breast. It had been too long since she'd been touched like that. Her legs clamped around his head and there were so many sensations assaulting her that her climax hit her hard and fast.

She didn't even have a chance to come down before he was inside her…and it was all pain and pleasure. She gasped, and her back arched so fast she nearly bucked them both off the small bed. He slowed his movements. He knew what had been going on with her and George and he wanted to show her that she was still desirable. He didn't want to fuck her, she had been fucked enough; he wanted to make love to her…to show her that she was loved. He looked her directly in the eyes and what stared back at him was enough to make him cry. As his tears mingled with hers, he knew he had to make every second count…because somehow, he knew they wouldn't be seeing each other for a long time.

He showered kisses across every inch of her skin he could reach. He touched her in ways she hadn't been touched in years. Her body was crying out for him and he was more than willing to answer the call. Her second orgasm was fast approaching and he told her he loved her over and over again as the waves of bliss coursed through her body. His own climax followed seconds after hers and she clamped her legs around him before he could pull out. She begged him not to move because she knew the emptiness would return the second he wasn't inside her, so he carefully rolled them over without breaking their connection. They fell asleep with him still sheathed inside her warmth.

When she awoke on Mark's chest she was sweaty, sticky, and blissfully sore. Mark was still sleeping and she traced his face lightly with her fingers, dedicating every feature to memory. She breathed the scent of him in, kissed his lips lightly, then whispered 'I love you too' in his ear. She quietly got dressed and wrote him a letter that she left on the table under his pager so he would be sure to find it. She looked back at him one last time before leaving. She wished things could be different and she hoped he would find someone who deserved him. Someone who could love him the way she had always wanted to be loved. Maybe they'd meet again in another life.

She ran into Chief Webber on her way out and he stopped her. He gave her a warm hug and told her it was good to see her smiling again. She thanked him and bid him goodnight. She hopped into her car, rolled down the windows despite the cool night, and cranked her favorite song. As she peeled out of the Seattle Grace parking lot, she felt free for the first time since she'd married George. Finally, she felt like she could breathe. She sped through the empty streets as if she didn't have a care in the world. She managed to make it home in record time and without getting pulled over.

She carelessly tossed her purse and keys in the floor, and didn't even bother to lock the front door after she entered the house. She made a stop in the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of red wine and a glass before heading upstairs to her bedroom. She started a bath and poured in bath salts, bubbles, and oils. Setting the wine bottle and glass down beside the tub, she stripped off her clothes and eased into the steaming hot pool. She quickly started to relax and decided to make a few phone calls while soaking and sipping her wine.

First she talked to her parents, and they were a little alarmed that she would call them at such an hour. She assured them that she just wanted to hear their voices because she'd had a rough day and told them that she loved them. She called her brothers, but neither of them answered so she left voice mails. Then she called Addison, who was thrilled to hear from her. They gabbed for an hour and Addison sensed that something was wrong but didn't say anything. For the first time in what seemed like forever, her friend didn't sound like she had the weight of the world resting on her chest and she didn't want to ruin that. They ended their conversation with lots of love and Addison's promise to see Callie soon…which Callie failed to respond to. It didn't click for Addison until after Callie hung up. She immediately called Mark and hoped he could get there in time.

Callie's last call was to George. He didn't answer and she was a little disappointed by that, but she said what she needed to say to his voice mail. She added more hot water to her now tepid bath as she finished the last of her wine. She was more than a little buzzed as she reached up to grab George's straight razor from the edge of the sink. She turned it over in her hands, watched the light glint off of the shiny surface. She opened and closed it a few times, listed to the ting of metal against metal as warm waves sloshed against her skin. She sat back, closed her eyes and just listened. She could hear the water sloshing around her, the occasional swish of the cars whizzing by on the street below, horns blaring far off in the distance.

The faces of everyone she loved flashed before her eyes…every happy moment of her life played in the theater of her mind as she dragged the blade vertically up her right forearm, then her left. There was no pain. She didn't know how, but the face of the child she lost became clearer and clearer as she got weaker, and she smiled…a beautiful little boy with dark hair and green eyes smiled back at her. As her breathing slowed, she could have sworn she heard a little voice calling her, beckoning for her. Then it all faded to black.

Mark knew something was very, very wrong the second Addison had called him in the panic. She was sobbing so hard that he couldn't understand a word she was saying, but all he needed to hear was 'Callie'. Without even telling Addison goodbye, he closed his phone and reached for his keys…and that's when he saw it. There was a letter, written in Callie's perfect comic book-like script. He quickly read it and then raced out of the hospital, nearly knocking Derek down on his way out. There was no time to apologize or explain. He was glad he didn't get pulled over on his way to her house, he wouldn't have stopped anyway.

He was prepared to break the door down and was shocked to find it unlocked. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears as he raced up the stairs two at a time…screaming her name at the top if his lungs. He had never been in her house before. He didn't know why he had been drawn upstairs, but as he saw the faint light coming from the master bedroom he knew he was in the right place. He charged into the room and as he crossed the threshold of the master bath, the sight before him buckled his knees. Someone was sobbing hysterically and it took him a moment to realize it was him. He knew it was too late, he knew…but he pulled her lifeless body from the water and started CPR anyway. He called 911. It was too late. She was blue; she had no pulse, no breath. He cradled her limp form in his arms, brushed her beautiful midnight locks from her forehead, let his fingertips trace her lips and eyes…dedicating her features to memory.

He kissed her softly, hoping to feel the warmth he'd felt earlier, but she was icy cold. Lifeless and cold. He held her tighter, wrapped his arms around her and chanted her name as if he could will her back to life. He was so focused on her that he never heard the footsteps approaching. He didn't realize anyone else was there until George noisily dropped his cell phone and keys at the sight of Mark Sloan still wearing his scrubs, covered in blood and cradling his wife's limp, naked body. He saw Mark stiffen—he could see the rage radiating from the older man's eyes…but he didn't have time to reacting. All he saw was a blur of blue and red—then it all faded to black.

Fin.