Callie was exhausted.

Mentally. Physically.

Nothing she had been taught in medical school could have prepared her for operating on her best friend's broken penis, but there it was. Four hours of bending over Mark Sloan's groin, trying to repair the damage caused by the eighty pound intern who, up until a few days ago, had been following Callie's ex-husband around like a lost puppy ... had taken a toll. Even the indulgence of a thirty minute shower, with the stream of water pulsating against her aching neck, failed to revive Callie. As she trudged towards Mark's private room on the fourth floor of Seattle Grace, she pulled out her phone and ordered a pizza for the two of them. It was time to return the favor. He had brought her Starbucks while she recuperated from her broken nose.

She knocked lightly on the door and pushed it open, then wrinkled her fully mended nose. Lexie, the eighty pound intern who had obviously failed anatomy 101, was lying on the bed next to Mark, her mouth open, snoring like a little old man. "I - I'll come back later," Callie said, holding up a hand in defeat.

"Oh, thank God," Mark called out. "You're here to check the bandages, right? Dr. Torres? I paged you because I'm in a lot of pain."

Callie instinctively reached for her pager, but she remembered leaving it in her locker. Being off duty meant being off duty. She started to shake her head and tell him that she hadn't received a page, when Lexie stirred and Mark continued, saying, "Little Grey, if you would excuse us ... Dr. Torres needs to, uh, follow up -"

Eyes wide, Callie finally caught on and regrouped. "Right. Follow up. Serious injury."

"I can stay," Lexie said, sitting up. She ran her hands through her brown hair and yawned, stretching like a cat. "I should stay. And ... Sadie was supposed to be guarding the door."

Callie shrugged. "Your guard dog must have gotten sleepy. I saw her heading into an on call room on my way in."

"Great," Lexie said, hopping off the side of the bed. She stuck her feet into her shoes, not bothering to tie them. When she looked back and Mark, she reached out and rubbed his chest. "Can I get you anything? Food? Something to drink? Anything?"

Mark's groan was one of exasperation, but he was able to feign discomfort. Callie knew the difference. She dropped her purse in the chair and made a show of plucking a pair of gloves from a nearby box. "I think I may need to adjust your medication, Mark. What's your pain level right now?"

With gritted teeth, Mark said, "Ten. It's a ten."

Callie snapped her gloves into place and raised a brow at Lexie. "Will you excuse us, Dr. Grey?"

"Yeah. Sorry." Lexie gave her an apologetic smile and then lifted Mark's hand, pressing a kiss against the back of it. "Call me if you need me."

"Thanks," Mark told her, his eyes closed tightly against the 'pain'.

Callie moved to the side of the bed and gathered the blanket in her hand. When Lexie looked back from the doorway, Callie lifted it, peering under. She kept her eyes downcast until the door shut and then she dropped the blanket and glared at Mark. "Let me guess ... your hot, talkative, forbidden affair with Little Grey has become a relationship?"

"Relationship? Not exactly. It's a hot mess." Mark shook his head. "Callie, she broke my *dick*."

"Accidents happen."

"Accidents?" Mark felt around until he discovered the hand held pain medication dispenser. He rammed his thumb against it three times before he let his head flop back against the pillow. "Her pubic bone is a lethal weapon. I can't even pretend to be shocked. Girls ... girls like that don't need to do the backward cowgirl."

Callie made a face. "Please ... spare me the visuals, Mark. You didn't want to hear about my dirty lesbian not sex sex so I really don't want to hear about Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm's pubic bone."

"I'm mortified."

"You should be. The only operating room available was the gallery. All the interns were up there watching the rise and *fall* of Don Juan."

Mark hit the pain button four more times. "Can you turn this thing any higher? I need to be in a coma."

Callie pressed a few buttons on the PCA machine. "You're at your max already. Ease off."

"Rub my hair."

Callie clasped her hands together under her chin, staring at him like he had grown a second head. "Huh?"

"Just do it."

"Why?"

"It's my turn to test a theory!"

"I'm suddenly terrified."

"The kid came in here and rammed her hands in my hair. 'I'm gonna stroke your hair' ... she said. 'Cause that's what I like when I'm hurt' ... she said." Dropping the pain dispenser, Mark shoved his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "She actually *sang* to me, Callie! Something about sugar plums, cupcakes, and pumpkins! My skin was crawling!"

"Are you saying that you finally realize she's the Doogie Howser of Seattle Grace and you're officially a pervert?"

"This is all your fault!" Mark exclaimed, pushing himself up on his elbows. "If you had not gotten *broken* by Erica Hahn and her disappearing vagina then we would still be having sex and I wouldn't have cared that Little Grey was reciting the periodic table to me or that she smelled like Juicy Fruit gum."

"Run on sentence, much?" Callie glanced at the pain medication again, then eased the pump off his bed, hanging it over the IV stand. "I'm cutting you off. You're clearly stoned."

"I am not stoned. I'm insane. I'm certifiable. What was I thinking?"

"I don't know, buddy. You lost me at periodic table and Juicy Fruit."

"The first girl who ever gave me a blowjob had a mouth full of Juicy Fruit." Mark's face lit up at the memory. "We were in seventh grade and she followed me into the boy's locker room. I was shaving gum out of my crotch for a month, but that smell ... gah! It's wrong! Oh my god! I need electro shock therapy. You know whose fault this is?"

"I thought we established that it was mine," Callie said.

"It's Mrs. Shepherd's fault. Derek's mother. She caused this."

"YOU SLEPT WITH DEREK'S MOTHER!"

Mark's eyes narrowed. "I do have *some* integrity."

"You slept with all her daughters and her younger sister. Do you *really* want to talk about integrity when it comes to the Shepherd family? You also slept with Addison. While she was married to Derek."

"Okay, fair enough. But she told me that I had the emotional maturity of a fifteen year old so it was okay to be with ... Juice Box Barbie."

"Barbie?" Callie shook her head. "That's reaching. At best ... she's maybe Skipper. Or a Bratz doll. She does have very odd fashion sense and oddly disproportionate eyes."

"No .. .she's a Cabbage Patch Kid. Just hatched. I need to leave her alone."

"I hate to say this, because I don't like Derek based on his hair alone, but he did warn you."

"That's right! It's HIS fault! He planted the seed! What am I gonna do?" Mark reached out, clutching Callie's hand. "I can't do this. I can't sleep with a girl who wear panties with the days of the week on them. And if I just ... shun her ... she's gonna break. She's fragile."

Callie shook her head. "Fragile? My ass! Fragile girls don't do the backward cowboy. Fragile girls 'make love' and then send you sonnets via text."

"How do you know that?"

"Erica sent me one. Once." She looked out the window, at the endless darkness that was swallowing the hospital. "And then she left a couple days later. Fragile girls leave you before you can leave them."

Mark studied her for several seconds, then smiled. "I really did improve your nose."

"I really did improve your dick. I got rid of the curve."

"You *liked* the curve."

"You liked my nose the way it was."

"Yeah." His eyes moved over her face. "I did."

Someone tapped on the door and Mark closed his eyes, feigning sleep. Callie chuckled, crossed the room, and paid for their pizza and Cokes. Kicking off her shoes, she put the box on the rolling table, raised the back of the bed, and then sat down facing him, the box between them. She dug in, plucking a pepperoni and closing her eye while she savored it.

Mark did the same and then they lifted a slice each, tapped them together, and ate in silence.

Finally, when only two slices remained, Callie closed the box and wiped her fingers on a napkin. "I should go. I have a surgery bright and early."

"Anything good?"

"Hip replacement."

"Carpentry. All the fields of surgery and you chose carpentry."

Callie pulled the cover up to his chest and patted it into place. "Someone has to put people back together."

Mark caught her hand. "Thank you."

She winked at him, then unraveled the pain pump and handed him the dispenser. "Sleep well, Mark."

He watched her move across the room and called out, "Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"You're good at it. Putting people back together."

"And you're a good man. Too good to let anyone *break* you. Remember that."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

*~*~*~*~

Cristina was sitting on the sofa when Callie opened the door to their apartment. Glancing down at her watch, she frowned, toed off her shoes, and dropped her purse next to the door. Padding across the room, she flopped down next to Yang and took her wine glass, draining it of the mouthful that remained. She grimaced, rubbed her mouth, and refilled the glass. "So? Did you talk to Owen today or not?"

Cristina took the bottle from her and turned it up, drank deeply, then belched. "Meredith went to watch the serial killer die. And then Derek brought her here because she couldn't stop crying. He thought I could help her."

"Did you?"

Yang shrugged. "I don't know. I talked to her about Owen. It's the first time in weeks that I've said anything to her that mattered. And she was sitting there sobbing ... and all I could tell her was that Owen has issues. And I don't know what to do about it."

"Are you okay? I mean, did you and Owen -"

"No offense, Torres, I know that we shoot the shit and make fun of everyone, but there's just something about a best friend. Mark is the person that you talked to about Erica. And Meredith is the one that I talk to about Owen."

Callie took a sip of wine. "Fair enough. Speaking of Mark ... I just spent the past couple of hours dealing with his broken penis."

Cristina choked on her wine. "Can you believe that Sadie was boasting about her skills like that? Like, breaking a dick is something to be proud of. You break a dick by doing it *wrong*. I hate her."

It was Callie's turn to choke. "Sadie!?"

"I had my money on you. I was convinced that you had rendered the man whore flaccid."

"Excuse me! I *know* how to do the backward cowgirl!"

"Oh! Ew!" Cristina rubbed her eyes, then yawned. "Callie?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just ... I mean ... well, Erica left. And Mark's messing around with Sadie ... so ... are you okay?"

Callie licked her lips, studying the other woman for a second. "I think I have a crush on Sadie."

The bottle in Yang's hand slipped to her lap, splashing a liberal amount of blush on the cushion and her pants. "SADIE! My God! I'm convinced she has beer flavored nipples. Hello?! She broke Mark. Do you really want her MOUTH near anything you have?"

"Shut up."

Cristina laughed. "Oooh, I struck a nerve. Hey, do you know what everyone was saying? They were saying that you and Mark were perfect together. You know, when everyone thought that you had done him in. Because you broke him, but you could put him back together. He needs someone like that."

Callie pursed her lips, staring past Cristina at the DVD Mark had given her a few days prior. He had presented her with 'Walking Tall' in the cafeteria, gave her a smile, and then snagged her chocolate cake and strode off.

"Oh my god," Callie murmured, her face slack.

"Is it finally sinking in that Sadie is psycho?"

"I have to go back to the hospital."

"Now?"

"NOW!"

Cristina grabbed Callie's glass before she could spill it and watched her rush out.

*~*~*~

Mark was flipping the channels on the television when Callie opened the door. She caught him dropping the remote and falling back against the pillows 'asleep'. "It's me," she told him, tossing her jacket on a nearby chair. "I've been thinking and after the week I've had maybe it's a bad idea to start talking now, but ..."

"Callie-"

"Maybe it was my fault that you wound up with Lexie. I mean, what I did to you ... and Erica ... the waffling, the going back and forth, the theories and all the sex. Mark, we're good in bed. We know that. But you're also my best friend and you make me laugh. And I think that we're -"

"Callie-"

"What I'm trying to say is -"

"I told her that I was done. I told her that I couldn't keep doing this ... thing ... with her."

"Oh."

"I told her there was someone else."

Callie moved to the side of the bed. "And what did she say?"

"She said that she hopes we're happy."

"We -"

"Torres?"

"What?"

"You put me back together." Mark sat up, grunting a little for his effort. He reached out, running his finger over the bridge of her nose. "And I put you back together, too."

"I was way more humane. You shoved a needle up my nose."

"I did, didn't I?" His hand moved over her cheek. "You booked the gallery OR to repair my penis. I'd say I'm hurting worse."

"What are we doing, Mark?"

"What do you want to do?"

"The other day ... you kissed me and we didn't feel it. We ... we laughed. It wasn't there."

"Maybe we should try again."

Callie nodded and let him pull her forward. Their lips touched as she leaned into him and a moment later, her hand moved through his hair, her nails against his scalp. When he hissed, she eased away, bewildered. "Wh-"

"Ow."

"Ow?"

He nodded. "Your rubbed my hair. When *you* rub my hair ... certain parts of my body want to stand up."

She laughed. "Well, that's nice."

"Tell me about it."

"You do realize that you won't be using that part of your body for a while, right?"

"We already know we're good in bed. Maybe it's time we work on the rest." He reached through the bedrail, flipping the release and lowering it. Resting against the pillows, he motioned for her to join him and sighed with contentment when she did. "That's better."

"Everyone thinks that Sadie broke you."

"Sadie!?"

"She said it was her."

"God." Mark rested his cheek against the top of Callie's head. "I hate interns."

"You know something? So do I."

"We're cured."

"Completely."

*~*~*~

The End