It wasn't because you wanted to stake your claim to Callie. It was never about that.

You may be astute, and you may have called it like you saw it, but that's not why she's standing in your office right now. You're pretty sure that she's not here to challenge your friendship with Callie, accuse you of taking sides. And if she is . . . then why?

You met Erica Hahn long before she started anything with Calliope Torres, and her reputation preceded her before that. She's awkward, cold and even now, doesn't know what to say, but she made the time to find you, and you know that she's not a woman who crosses the country to engage in idle chitchat.

But as you lean forward, remembering that cold, grey day in Seattle when your hair was just a little darker and your tan looked odd against the rough white lab coat that you haven't worn in four months, you wonder what exactly DOES inspire a woman who normally hates people to find someone she's only met a few times.

And so you ask her.

"Sorry, Dr. Hahn, but I'm a little confused. Why are you here, again?"

She doesn't say anything, but she fixes you with steely blue eyes that show a shield – a shield against what?

"Uh, Dr. Hahn?"

When she does speak, her voice is firm and no-nonsense. "I want some answers."

"About?" You can't imagine anything that you could possibly know better than Hahn. And then you suddenly realize.

"About Callie?"

She simply sits down and stares at you, and for once, you're completely at a loss of what to say. You simply gape at her until she tosses you an annoyed look.

"Close your mouth, Montgomery."

You snap out of it then. "Look, Dr. Hahn . . ."

"Erica, please."

"Erica, I'm not sure how you want me to help you. I'm not really in the position to dish on my friends. If it didn't work out between you two, I'm sorry, but . . ."

She gives you another scornful glance and you shut up.

"Actually," she says, "I'm here because I want to know how you knew that she would date women. And I want you to tell me why she is . . . the way she is."

You shake your head in confusion. "That can't be the reason why you came down here."

"Look, I left Seattle Grace last week. I left because it's just . . . well, the main thing is, I'm gone. And I left because she broke my heart, and I couldn't imagine working with her day to day."

Erica Hahn's face is impassive, but something gives a little in her eyes. "You knew her best."

"I never knew the side of her that you know."

"But you saw her go through relationships. Surely, something must be similar?"

You push a hand through your red hair, dyed back to its brilliant shade and watch Erica's eyes catch it as it sparkles in the sunshine through the window.

"She was married briefly to George O'Malley. And she jumped into it without really thinking. I think she was in love with the idea of being in love."

Even as you say it, you wince. Best friends don't tell each other's secrets. But you didn't mistake the look in Erica's eyes when she looked at Callie, all those months ago.

"She was in love with the idea of being in love?"

Comprehension dawns on the other woman's face, and you suddenly feel bad. "It's not that she didn't care. She does care. She just . . . it was new, and novel, and it probably scared her. Like marriage scared her . . ."

"It did?"

"I think it did," you say honestly, and Erica suddenly drops her eyes.

"I never got it. I never got why she couldn't commit. And now I do. I mean, I get it. She wasn't trying to lead me on."

"No. Callie's not like that. She can be impulsive and blind, but she doesn't deliberately go out to hurt people. When you've been hurt so many times yourself, you don't exactly go out to make other people's lives hell on purpose."

Erica raises her eyes, and they're bitter. "Really? You honestly believe that?"

"It's been my experience."

"Well, it hasn't been mine." She says nothing else, but you touch her arm anyway, making your characteristic sympathetic pout.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time," she says awkwardly, not meeting your eyes.

But you get it. You get why she came down. "When you love someone, you want to figure out a way to fix what's broken. I get that."

Something dawns on Erica's face. "Yes. You came for Shepherd, way back when."

You frown. "Not the same thing."

She grins a little. "Whatever you say."

You shake her hand, feeling its roughness on your soft palms, and look her in the eyes. "I hope you find what you want with Callie. I think you both deserve to be happy. Callie hasn't been happy in a long time."

"Yeah, well." She shrugs. "We'll see."

You walk her to the door and she turns back, honey-blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. "I don't think either of us know her well. But you saw a different side. Thanks for that."

//~//

When you open your eyes, you're not quite sure where you are until the walls of your bedroom fill in and you realize that you're not actually in Seattle, it's just raining. So, you pick up the phone.

Callie answers, sounding much more awake than you. "What, Addison?"

"Call Hahn. Just do it."

"What?"

"Seriously, Cal. Just call her. I know there's a bunch of backstory, even though you won't tell me much, but just do it."

"You've officially gone nuts."

"Yeah, but I don't think this is the end."

She's silent for a few moments, and you take the time to think over your stance, until she replies.

"Okay, but I'll be hitting you up for therapy later."

You laugh and suddenly miss her desperately.

"I don't mind. I sort of miss you all at Seattle Grace."

"California's turned you soft."

"Cal, life is full of simple joys. Just do it."

And she finally gives, for real this time.

"I trust you."

"That's all I ask."