A/N: Alright, well this is just a little something I've had sitting in my computer since January. I started it then but got stuck halfway through and just got around to finishing it. It's just a little character study of sorts focusing on Callie that takes place after Arizona leaves but before she comes back and before Callie sleeps with Mark. Anyways, here it is. Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy in any way, shape, or form.

Will You Be Here When I Wake?

Stepping off the elevator, Callie Torres dragged her tired feet down the hall to the familiar blue door on her left. Considering the past 17 hours, she wanted nothing more than to curl up on Mark's couch, a.k.a. her bed, and knock out until the end of the century. It had been one hell of a day and as far as she was concerned, not one she had any intention of repeating any time soon.

It had started at 6:00 with the harsh, glaring light of day filtering through the curtains of the apartment. Knowing what awaited her once her day at work began, she buried her head under her pillow, refusing to emerge until Mark threw off her covers, lifted her into his arms, and unceremoniously deposited her in the bathroom with a stern order to get ready or he'd see to it that all her surgeries for the rest of the week would be cancelled.

30 minutes later, and not without a considerable amount of near hysterical tears shed on her part, they walked through the doors of Seattle Grace-Mercy West, Mark making sure to keep a firm grasp around her shoulders to prevent her from bolting in the other direction. After clocking in and changing into their navy blue scrubs, her best friend proceeded to escort her to the lecture hall which was already filling with people. Ushering her backstage, he pulled her into a fierce hug, all the while murmuring words of encouragement into her ear, before planting a soft kiss on her forehead and backing away into the hall to take his seat.

Damn that M&M. She was no public speaker. She spent her life going out of her way to avoid speaking in public and when she had been forced to put herself in front of others, it often ended in disaster. Her nearly failed presentation on her reconstructive surgery on the man with the clubbed foot was a dismal reminder of that. And yet, there she was, having to explain to all her peers why a perfectly healthy 43 year old man who came in with a broken leg died on her watch. She had spent the last few days panicking over the M&M, the sudden loss of her patient coupled with the continuing heartbreak over her recent break up and her aversion to public speaking causing her to tip precariously over the edge.

But somehow, through the grace of God, Buddha, Allah, or whatever other higher power that existed, she managed to get through her presentation with considerably fewer misfortunes than her previous attempts. Still, that did little to ease her nerves and the moment she concluded her lecture, she all but ran off the stage, bolting to the nearest on-call room to calm her racing heart. Mark had followed several minutes later to ensure that she hadn't passed out somewhere but left soon after, seeing that she just needed a moment to herself.

She had just managed to get down from her adrenaline high when her pager alerted her to a massive MVC situation down in the pit. The driver of a tour bus had fallen asleep at the wheel, sending the bus tumbling several times through the highway before crashing into the center divider. All in all, 34 people were injured, 23 of whom were sent to Seattle Grace-Mercy West. With injuries ranging from minor lacerations and dislocated shoulders to traumatic amputations and impalements, the accident was both an orthopedic surgeon's worst nightmare and dream come true.

For the next 12 hours, she worked non-stop, moving and sometimes sprinting from one OR to another as she set, repaired, and, on two occasions, removed the shattered bones brought her way. Despite the fact that she had several ortho fellows working along side her, she was still up to her ears in surgeries, the magnitude of the accident requiring her skill and experience.

But all that was over with now and the 23 crash victims were now lying in the safety of Seattle Grace, all very much alive and on their way to making a recovery, and she, after a nerve-racking M&M and an impressive total of 11 surgeries, was finally let go for the day.

Making her way down the hall, she fiddled with her keys, unable to help herself when her eyes started to wander over to the other blue door across the hall, the door that reminded her everyday of just how pathetic her life was. She scoffed and turned away. She already had enough on her mind. She didn't need to add to that.

Finally unlocking the door, she stepped inside the darkened apartment. Mark had gone home several hours ago, the ENT and head of plastic and reconstructive surgery having finished his surgeries a while back. Considering the stillness of the room, Callie had no doubt that he was sound asleep, exhausted from the day's traumas, and if it hadn't been for the constant grumbling of her stomach since sometime after her fifth surgery, she too would've collapsed on the couch right then. But the hunger won out and after setting her purse down on the counter and kicking off her shoes, she started rooting around for something to eat. Fortunately for her, she didn't need to look far as a small note propped up on the fruit bowl caught her eye. Written in Mark's messy scrawl:

Cal,

There's some take-out in the fridge. I figured you'd be hungry.

-Mark

She smiled. He would kill her if word got out but Mark Sloan was one of the sweetest men she ever knew. Opening the fridge, several Chinese take-out boxes met her gaze so she took them out and started to make herself a plate. A few minutes later, she settled herself on the couch with a plate pilled high with food and a beer for good measure. She dug in with abandon which, considering that her last actual meal was well over 24 hours ago, was completely appropriate. As the food slowly soothed the angry grumbling of her stomach, she allowed herself to glance around the silent apartment.

Even with one quick scan, it was obvious that the flat was a bachelor pad through and through. The gleaming stainless steel and chrome in the kitchen, the darkly painted walls, the severely cut mocha sofa sitting in front of an immaculate 72 inch high-def plasma screen. As bent as Mark was over Lexie, who had yet to acknowledge the extent of his heartbreak, he liked his apartment the way he had always liked it: with not a hint of femininity in sight. Chuckling softly in spite of herself, she considered the irony of her situation.

She always considered herself to be headstrong. All her life, she had valued her independence, her autonomy more than anything. She didn't need someone else to tell her that her life was worth something especially if that someone was a man. Sure, she had more than her fair share of boyfriends but when the relationship had run its course, they had always left her with the feeling that she had been better off without them. Fairytale endings were for the dumb, desperate, and deluded, she always said and she never backed down from that.

That was, until she met George. In all honesty, she really did believe she had her fairy tale ending. George O'Malley may not have been the handsomest man on earth and if she had been judging based purely on looks, that would've been made very clear. But he was cute and sweet and nervous, a combination that had her independence flying out the window and her heart flying into his arms. He made her happy and that was enough for her.

He made her happy then threw it back in her face when he admitted to sleeping with Izzie. She tried so hard to see past it, forgive him, live with the knowledge that he had betrayed her with his best friend because her parents had raised her to be a good Catholic and that was what you were supposed to do. But she knew she was lying to herself. He left her broken and missing a piece of her heart she knew she would never get back. As brief as their relationship had been, she did love him and a part of her always would.

Getting back on her feet after the divorce had been hard but only because his betrayal still stung whenever she saw him and Stevens which was nearly everyday. With the whole hospital buzzing about her business, she swore off any relationship and kept her walls up as a result which worked fairly well until Mark decided that Erica Hahn was becoming a little more than just a "friend." Of course, with him fanning the flames, she couldn't help herself when her thoughts started to stray to the blond cardio surgeon. To say that she was confused would've been the understatement of the century. Relationships were not on her agenda and a relationship with a woman definitely didn't even come close. She'd always acknowledged beautiful women but Erica was the first she'd actually been attracted to. Still, the thought of actually acting on her conflicting feelings remained nothing more than that.

Until Erica kissed her. It was the point of no return and, at Mark's encouragement, she found herself throwing caution to the wind. It was awkward at first and definitely more than a little humiliating but she started accepting the fact that this was who she was. Of course, her newfound confidence was short-lived when Erica up and left without so much as a good-bye, once again leaving her alone and hurt and turning to Mark for comfort.

But then Arizona Robbins came tearing through her life like a hurricane, sweeping her off her feet with those infectious dimples, stunning sapphire eyes, and that kiss that all but made her brain melt. Still reeling from Erica, it took her awhile to sort out her feelings towards the perky peds surgeon but once she did, she went after her with all she had and however heartbreaking their relationship would turn out to be, there was nothing she would've changed about it. Whatever she'd felt for George and Erica, Arizona was the one, that was quickly made clear to her. Despite her family's initial rejection, despite her and Arizona's opposite views on having children, despite everything she had been raised to believe, Arizona was the one and she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with her. She would do anything for her even if it meant dropping everything in her life to move to a continent halfway across the world and she had been prepared to do just that even with all her reservations.

And then Arizona left her, walked away and boarded the flight to Malawi as she stood in the airport staring after her girlfriend's retreating back. It was amazing what such a simple action as walking away could do and for the fourth time in her life, Callie watched as a piece of her heart was torn apart in front of her.

And now here she was, alone, sitting on Mark's couch in his apartment because she and Arizona had sublet their own, having not taken into account any last minute fights and breakups. She was alone and heartbroken and damn her if she was going to let Arizona come waltzing back into her life if she even dared to show up at her door. She was done playing this game, tired of having her heart ripped apart. If God never meant for her to be in a lasting relationship with anyone, man or woman, then all the power to him. She'd become a freakin' nun if she had to.

She scoffed. You're losing it, Torres. You can rival Mark with your horniness, how do you expect to survive in a convent? Okay, so maybe she wouldn't be a nun but she was definitely done wearing her heart on her sleeve.

With her musings coming to a close, she rose from the couch, having finished her meal and satisfied her stomach for the time being. With the careful hands of a surgeon so as to avoid the clinking of silverware, she did the dishes silently then dried her hands. She yawned, one of the many that had been plaguing her all day, and headed for the couch to settle in for the night. Out of habit, she glanced down the hall at the door that stood just slightly ajar, the sight causing a small smile to creep onto her face. On the other hand, maybe she wasn't quite as alone as she thought. He would kill her if word got out for this too but an open door always meant that Mark was sleeping alone, a practice that had undoubtedly formed as a young boy left alone at night by his wealthy, preoccupied parents. She had noticed this years ago but had opted to keep her silence both with him and everyone else for there were things that were just meant to be left alone.

Without even realizing it, she found herself walking towards his room, her bare feet padding softly on the wood floor. Gently, she nudged the door open and found him sprawled on his stomach under the covers. She knew she should leave him to sleep and get some rest herself but she couldn't help herself from taking a careful seat on the edge of the bed, his creaseless face turned towards her. The whisperings of his soft snores occasionally pierced the silence of the room and she smiled fondly at her best friend. She raised a hand and gently, almost shyly began stroking his prematurely graying hair.

Mark stirred and blinked open one of his icy blue eyes. "Hey." he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. Noting the thoughtful look on Callie's face, he frowned. "What's wrong?"

She smiled softly. "Nothing."

Mark, seeing that there was more she wanted to say, kept silent.

She studied her best friend, the man who had stood by her side when the rest of the world had abandoned her, and laughed silently at the thought that it had all started as a shallow one-night stand.

"Thank you." she said quietly after a moment.

Still slightly foggy from sleep, Mark furrowed his brow, confused. "For what?" he asked as he sat up to look at her properly.

Callie looked down at her twisting hands. "Everyone I ever cared about left me at some point. George, Erica, Arizona. Even my family left for a while." Fighting the tears that prickled her eyes, she slid her gaze over to Mark. "Except you."

His heart all but broke. His best friend, the fiery Latina and rock star orthopedic surgeon, was strong but there was only so much she could handle. He knew that and he hated seeing her like this. "Come here." Shifting beneath the covers, he scooted over to give her room on the bed. She slid under the sheets and allowed Mark's strong arms to wrap her in a tight embrace, her head resting snugly on his chest.

"I will never leave you, Torres." he murmured firmly as he held her close and placed a soft kiss on her vanilla-scented hair. "I promise."

She smiled into his shirt, feeling safe and loved in the arms of her best friend. There weren't too many promises she was willing to believe at this point in her life but this was an exception.

"Now, can we please go to sleep?" he added a moment later, yawning.

Chuckling quietly, she nodded and shifted to find a more comfortable position, allowing her tired body to relax into Mark's.

"Goodnight, Mark." she whispered.

"Goodnight, Callie." came his response, his voice already fading with sleep.

And as her eyes slowly began to close, finally giving in to the stress and chaos of the day, she found comfort in the thought that even if everyone else had left her in a heartbeat, Mark would still be here when she woke.

A/N: Feels good to finally have this done since it's been sitting unfinished since January. One of the things I love about summer break. I got a little carried away with Callie's thoughts about her relationships but there you go. Anyways, leave a review and tell me what you think! I really appreciate them. :)