It was an odd end of the year, simply because it snowed in Seattle instead of the interminable rain that was Callie's only prior impression of Christmastime on the West Coast. Having come from the hot, dry winds of Phoenix, she wasn't used to the damp greyness of her new home, but anyone can get used to anything, and Callie was no exception.

This Christmas, however, even the snow couldn't lighten her mood. She was feeling grey and wrung out, and not just because her workload had gotten heavier lately. Since Erica had left, two months before, well. It's a cliché to say that Callie had viewed life a little less vibrantly since then. Days had gone interminably on without any end in sight. As the lights went up, people's chatter becoming excited as they discussed upcoming Christmas plans, Callie just felt like pulling a blanket over her head and shutting out the whole damned season.

Christmas is for couples and families, had been her impression ever since she'd been a little girl herself. Granted, a big Mexican family where everyone is married and starting a family didn't really give any other indication that this wasn't the way holidays were supposed to be, but it never bothered Callie until she lived across the country from her parents and getting home took a lot of effort on planes and trains, the temperature changing from damp to hot and dealing with the boisterous, loud questions and comments after a year of quiet became too much.

But she wasn't bothered by it until she had George. And then, she congratulated herself for skipping from the single, depressing stage to the obviously foreordained stage.

However, she didn't realize that marriage doesn't work for everyone. The outward smiles, the family feeling that she'd seen so many times around the Christmas tree – it was fake for her marriage with George. They didn't even last to a first Christmas. They barely lasted through Easter.

So, that could have been a factor. The main thing is, she didn't feel happy until she met Erica Hahn in the suddenly sunny autumn. And then life opened up – to a confusing new set of rules and regulations, but despite her confusion, Callie knew that in her heart, she was ready for this. She was ready to have a dose of real happiness.

But then, Erica left, sweeping out and taking her ideals and passion with her, and Callie was left alone again. And part of it was her fault – she knew that, intrinsically – she knew that she should have given Erica more of a sign; that nothing hurts more than indecision to someone who is convinced they love you more than anyone else.

So now she shuffles through the snow, and kicks up plumes of crystal confetti behind her as she slumps her way into the mall. Despite the depression, the holiday season does indeed go on, and Christmas shopping must be done.

Fingering a Coach purse in the bright lights and glittering piles of merchandise around her, she doesn't expect to meet a long-fingered hand across the colourful fabric . . . or recognize the ivory skin with its slight pink scar, crossing one finger, where a scalpel slipped in an emergency.

Meeting the frank blue eyes, the slight quirk of a smile – it's shocking in more ways than one. Callie feels her legs shake a little, and fights the urge to break Erica's gaze.

"Callie," says Erica, her voice light. "How's it going?"

Considering the way they parted, it's not really easy to look her in the face and pretend everything is fine. Especially since both had been so angry when it happened – Erica had disagreed with Callie's methods and with the way of treating her. Callie knows the onus is on her, but she can't help feeling somewhat that it's also on Erica.

"Hi, Erica." Callie's voice is trembly, like it always is when she's nervous, and she clears her throat. "I didn't know you were still in town."

"Well, they had my old job still open at Mercy West. No point in blowing off one of the only towns I've ever known, my house, everything, just to move away from Seattle Grace."

Callie finds herself fingering the silver hardware on the Coach bag under her hand. "I suppose not."

"Look, Callie. I hope you've been doing well." Her voice is softer now, and Callie drops her eyes so that she doesn't have to show Erica how wrong she really is.

"Well, Erica, you left without really saying goodbye. You left in the middle of a fight with me, and you know? That hurt."

"I had good reason." Her voice comes with a hint of steel, and Callie winces a little, knowing it to be true.

Suddenly, Erica grabs Callie's hand, looking her straight in the eyes. "I don't want to have this conversation here."

"Fine."

The Starbucks in the mall has several children shrieking about hot chocolate at the counter, but Erica manages to find a semi-quiet table away from the noise.

Being forced to look into her eyes hurts. But Callie knows she owes Erica an explanation.

"I didn't know what I wanted then. I can't apologize for that, because you never gave me a chance to find out. You fired on all cylinders, all the time, and it confused me even more. I didn't feel like I could ever live up to what you wanted from me."

"You didn't try."

"But you didn't give me a chance to try. You sat in bed and cried about leaves and glasses and how gay you were and I don't know how to respond to something like that."

Callie finds herself brushing a tear from her eye, and struggles to keep her voice steady. "I do care about you. It was starting to be something for me. But you pushed too hard, and I guess it was my fault for not telling you soon enough."

Erica's face is thoughtful. She's always so closed at times like these; it's so rare she shows any emotion at all. "Please don't tell me that you pined over me." Her voice is clipped, sarcastic.

"What do you want to hear?"

"That you moved on with your life. That it wasn't serious for you."

"Why?"

"Because it would make it easier on me for leaving." Erica's voice drops.

Callie can't lie. It's not in her nature and it's not fair. So she stares Erica straight in the eye for the first time, and shakes her head.

"I think about you every day. I think about you and what we could have had if I had given you more of a chance, if you had given me more of one. And I think about how this would have been the first Christmas we would have spent together, and the fact that we could have been shopping together right now, or even spent time just being together. Taking it slowly."

Erica doesn't say anything for a long moment, and Callie wonders if she's gone too far. Then,

"I'm sorry."

"Well, I'm sorry, too." Callie roughly brushes her eyes and is surprised to find Erica's smooth hand on her own.

"Is there a chance - ?"

"You mean, have we fucked it up beyond repair?"

"Something like that."

Callie studies Erica's beautiful blue eyes – traces her gaze over the deadpan face, the slight quirk of the lips. "Can you wait for me?"

"Can YOU be sure?"

"I can't promise it'll come right away."

"Well, what if we started out as friends, then?"

Callie shakes her head, black curls flying, and gives a bitter laugh. "I'll just want to kiss you all the time. That won't work."

Erica smiles, a real smile this time. "Then why don't we just start with a walk. No strings attached; no expectations."

And Callie can't help but agree.

The white night is opaline with snowflakes falling gently. It's full of the full silence of winter, and Erica says nothing as she guides Callie through the thickening layer on the sidewalk.

Their arms are entwined, and without any words, it's comfortable. And when Callie begins to cry, Erica doesn't have to ask her why.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers into the black hair, and Callie nods.

"I just . . . I'm sorry, too. I should have been nicer to you. Treated you better. Because I do love you. I loved you then, too."

And Erica smiles again.

"I think I knew it, anyway. I just wanted to punish you."

"Well, am I off the hook now?"

Callie's eyelashes have tiny white stars entangled in their shining lengths, and Erica leans down to kiss her.

"Yes."