A/N: When I thought of this it was going to be Mark/Addison, a pairing I'm comfortable with, but when I tried to write it- well it's Mark/Callie and there could be no other way. This is only my second attempt for this pairing (the other being just a one shot) and I would appreciate any and all feedback as I am still not really feeling like I am getting Callie in the right light. Thanks to my beta. Here goes nothing-
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You May Emerge From This More Dead Than Alive
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Darren Alexander Sloan will never take his first steps. He will never mutter his first words in a high pitched voice to a room full of open hearts who love him more than they love themselves (which considering…is kind of a feat). He will never kick a ball, toss a ball, catch a ball or get hit in the face by a ball. His small life will never know the difference in between colors and shapes, letters and numbers. That's not his story; not our story.
His story began seven months ago with a pair of doctors who were hurting, alone and more than anything else angry with themselves. He is a quintessential accident, a slip up, a faux pas and has now left two people to fight for a relationship that frankly should be questioned at every level.
It started long before Addison arrived back in town, fresh from Los Angeles (the land of perpetual smog and sun) but to say that she didn't help spur the event would be a lie. She came back for work but everyone knew she was back for Derek and he was more than happy to oblige. After the Meredith saga and the Rose drama the forty-something decided to pull his head out of his ass and invite his wife back; invite his lover back (who Mark thinks is out of her damn mind). He made a hasty proposition and Richard declared that he would do everything in his power to have the swaying redhead clicking along the heels of the Seattle Grace within weeks.
There she stood eight or so months ago, tapping a blue pen on the hard countertop deep in thought when Mark confronted her and subsequently drug her into an on call room to finally have the conversation he was certain would change her mind about everything. The impact was a far cry from what he was hoping to achieve and in the end he was left with the realization that once again she wanted his dark headed best friend nothing to do with him or his plans for their life. He sought refuge in the newly divorced bone crusher and they spent many a night cursing both Addison and George, damning them (though not collectively as Addison and Callie remained friends) to hell and back.
What they didn't know was that their own personal tour of the fiery underground was about to begin.
She decided (after too many margaritas that Joe was not a genius in making balanced and light) that she needed to be screwed senseless. It wasn't asking much. All she wanted was to be slammed into a dresser, wall or mattress (seriously, she was not going to be picky) and Mark was just her man. They tangled tongues and danced lips along slick flesh until it could be contained no longer.
The explosion fizzled and the one night stand wasn't spoken of after her hair was drenched across his sculpted chest, his legs intertwined with hers under the hotel sheets. They returned to work to watch George make Izzie his girlfriend (and then with glee watch that dissipate into nothingness) and to view the growing soap opera that was, "The Shepherds, - Wedding Round 2." Darren was bore out of the pain and anguish of knowing that neither parent could have what they really wanted out of life (not that Callie was wanting George back anytime soon more nonetheless). It would be pointless to say, his conception was less than glamorous.
Through the months they came together, even moved into an apartment, and decided to convince everyone (including themselves) that they could do this. That two friends can manage a stable, growing relationship - which neither was sure they actually wanted - with the impending arrival of their first born. He will arrive three weeks early to his father's pleasure (as his mother is driving the man literally out of his mind) and to his mother's disapproval (the day will be February 14th). And the events that precipitate this monstrous event don't so much matter.
When he makes his grand debut- head full of black hair, smooth eyes of his mother- the fact that Mark doesn't exactly know if Callie is the type of woman that can tame his wild ways (still) and the idea that Callie doesn't understand if what she feels with Mark is real love won't make the least bit of difference.
"I look fat." Callie announces, straightening her knee length black dress, "I hate Addison for doing this while I am almost eight months pregnant. It's like she planned this on purpose-"
"Cal…" Mark grumbles, having heard entirely too much about their fixing of wedding vows and there's still a shooting pain he feels when Addison giggles at Derek in the hallway, "You look amazing." And he's kind of tired of saying it. It's become a daily routine since about the fourth month and he thinks that maybe given any other father Callie would actually be excited and bursting at the seems with joy. But as it is she's scared and he can tell and it tends to frighten the shit out of him.
"You have to say that."
"True." He mumbles while fixing the knot in his tie and looking in the mirror. Today is the day he gives up on her again. Her. And he hates that it always comes back to Addison…and everything they could have had together.
"Shoes?" Callie asks, perched one foot in a tall black heel and the other dangling in the air with a ballerina flat.
"Baby you can't keep wearing heels." He kisses the top of her head in passing and nods towards the flats trying to keep his mind off how easy it is to pretend everything is okay and that they are truly invested in one another. He doesn't even know who they are fooling anymore; themselves or the entire free world.
"I just want to look good."
"You always look good. You look good at four in the morning when I wake up to your snoring, you look good at eight in the morning with crazy bed hair, you look good at midnight- eyes half awake and our son refusing to let you sleep." Her eyes light up at the mention of their child and he grimaces internally. She gave him a choice. Told him that she would do this on her own; that she was perfectly capable and it's not that he didn't believe her- it's that if there ever was a person that he thought he could love besides Addison- it's Calliope and for as much as he is scared, he wanted a child when he had the chance the first go around. There's no way he's going to let this slip out of his grip as well.
He's tired of his life happening to him instead of with him.
"Now you're just trying to stay on my good side."
"Can you blame me?"
"No." She smiles warmly, placing her soft hands over his silver tie and fixing imaginary mistakes. Capturing his lips she rolls her tongue forward and leaves him gasping for air and smirkless in their sunlight bedroom. "Ugh, at least you can drink at this thing! I'm going to be stuck listening to the resident's bitch about their interns because our idiot friends thought it would be a good idea to invite the entire hospital- didn't they already have a big wedding once? Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"Addison and Derek- haven't they already done this crazy huge, people you don't know from anywhere giving you useless shit thing once?"
"Y-yeah. I guess. I don't really remember, it was a long time…ago." He stammers choosing not to recall the day he pretended to be standing in Derek's spot through the vows. It's stupid and petty and maybe only because he wants what he can't have but it still hurts like a bitch.
"I don't know why anyone would want to do this two times let alone one. The idea is just-" She drags out as he disappears into the bathroom to run a comb through the hair that hasn't needed brushing in years. Sometimes it's like talking to a wall. A gorgeous, talented, blue eyed wall. Her second trimester nearly killed them both and she decided then that even if they weren't one hundred percent ready for this whole child thing, they could definitely pull it together in time. But now, now with the stupid ivory colored flower petals and silver shoed bridesmaids (she vehemently opposed the idea of being one no matter how much Addison whined) it feels like things are going in reverse.
"I want to get married one day." He announces, waltzing back into the red themed room. Deep crimson sheets, curtains and flowers on the dresser accentuate the otherwise boring white walls and at first made him think that Callie was way more into blood than she let on but now knowing her he wouldn't pick any other theme to suit her…except maybe something tastefully black.
She likes beer, pizza and can speak intelligently about their line of work and fucked up football rulings during an anticlimactic game. Yet, she still smells amazing and her figure drives him absolutely insane. She's the best mix of everything and he doesn't know what his deal is that he can't just love her already.
"I don't." She retorts and slips the other shoe on with her bare hand, nearly toppling over onto the bed in the process. He slips in at her side and holds her steady when she grins sheepishly, "Thought that would be easier."
Two walks down an outdoor aisle on the only sunny day Seattle has seen in the last two years, what felt like ninety drunken speeches to the glowing bride and her smiling buffoon of a husband, three glass of punch, two and a half pieces of triple berry cake and one round trip car ride lands them right back where they started. Alone and quiet in the third floor apartment.
She pulls the pins from her tightly wound hair and tip toes out of the dress (choosing a pair of his boxers worn low on her hips and a light cotton Knicks tee) and slowly saunters into bed begging the baby to just knock his antics off for once and let her sleep peacefully. Mark likes to tease her and tell her all about how big of a trouble maker he will be in his teens and transition ages but neither of them knows that those days will never come. He unbuttons his white dress shirt slowly and strips down to nothing, relishing in the coolness of the fabric on his bare skin. He lightly strokes Callie's stomach, telling stories to their child while she laughs and faults her redheaded friend for ever thinking this man could be a horrible father.
He may not be loyal, he may still look at long legs and short shirts, he might forget her birthday next year and they may never even have an anniversary to celebrate but there is one thing he is dedicated to and it is his son. "Mark."
"Cal." He whispers low into the crisp air of autumn filtering in their cracked window because his woman is always too damn hot these days.
She opens her mouth to say the three words but chokes and swallows, "I can't wait until he gets here."
"I hope he looks like you." He says softly kissing the silky skin of her neck. He's said it a hundred times and he'll say it a hundred more. Callie is absolutely stunning and he feels blessed that's she's even willing to give him a shot- regardless of how uncommitted and scary it all feels. She's patient and understanding and nothing that he deserves.
"I was awkward and dorky and fat, we don't want him to be like me. We want him to be like you." She flips her head over and scoots into his arms, watching the goose bumps pop as his fit body is subjected to the cool atmosphere.
"He'll be a good mix; he'll be a good kid." Mark reassures her draping his arm beneath the covers around the tumbling soon to be infant.
"Let us pray."
"Praying isn't going to get us anywhere Cal. I haven't been to church in years and the fact that I am now having a kid is probably some sort of cosmic joke."
"I'm happy it happened…," she takes a chunk of his scented air in and continues, "…I know it wasn't planned or really even thought of but I'm happy with what we've got. I'm happy with you."
"I'm happy with you too- even though you're crazy and make me answer the door when we both know it's Chinese takeout at three in the morning and I am half awake and seriously less than armed and dangerous." He jokes and lightly tickles the sides of her caramel skin.
"Well you're free to show me armed and dangerous anytime after I've recovered from this big headed child of yours."
"Callie the carpenter likes a little dress up? Kinky."
"I dressed up for you. Fair play and what not."
"Oh, I see. You're a crazy woman Torres."
She always laughs when he calls her by her last name. It seems so formal for people who are insanely intimate and have heard the worst of each other from Mark cursing at the TV when the Yankees botch their wild card chances to Callie wanting to rip her tangled hair out and literally being frustrated to the point of tears because neither party has managed time off to buy a crib or decorate anything.
He quickly remedied that and now he repeatedly finds her standing in the small, powder blue and mocha colored room with a silly smile as she straightens the old fashioned race car themed sheets and bumper pads. He catches her when he gets home from work - she's already on maternity leave - folding little blue socks over one another, stock piling diapers into nearly every room and washing bottles that won't be used for weeks.
He drifts off to sleep that night feeling the light taps of his boy beneath his palm and the sound of Callie trying to relax in his embrace. Every once in awhile he is struck by how lucky he is in all of this. She could've taken the baby and ran and no judge in their right mind would have faulted her. On occasion he feels okay, content in what they have going on, even if it's not perfect and too complicated to explain to the closest of their friends. Tonight is one of those nights where even Derek remarrying Addison and the idiot intern spilling champagne all over his pants can't rain on his parade.
Darren will be bathed in a warm blue blanket after his birth. He will be cuddled and cooed at. He'll peer up at the pair with unsteady eyes and scream to his heart's content. There will be days where Mark will find Callie crying with the baby because he refuses to eat, refuses to sleep and refuses to be set down. He will test everyone's patience and endurance in the long dark hours of night where the headlights drift up from the street and mix with neon signs floating in past his sheer window drapes. His guttural cries will echo off the hallway walls and drive the neighbors insane but there will be fleeting moments of happiness that overshadow the rest.
There will be smiles and laughs. He'll get that. No words, mind you, but laughter and in those moments he will set the world right. He'll stop it dead and show both Mark and Callie something so much more; the important things in life.
His life will influence everything it touches and in the end he will die.
His death will be an unarguable accident but no one will be blameless. Human nature dictates that someone must own up to darkest hours and days of this couple's life. There will be silent screams in busy hallways and sobs that no one can quell. There will be unparalleled anguish when their son is buried on a rainy mid-morning in early July, enough guilt to feed a third world country and in the end someone will walk away forever.
A/N2: I'm basically laying it out here for everyone and I understand if anyone feels like this is not their cup of tea. I'm not promising magic and rainbows and I will kill this child and if that's too uncomfortable for you I want to say thanks for giving the first little part a chance and no hard feelings. My goal is to try and shed light on a situation where two people have a child and aren't stable and crazy in love but at the same time want to make it work because I feel that's more true to life. Oh and all titles are derived from Hammock songs.
