Title: Learning How to Survive

Paring: Callie/Arizona

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Callie's life falls apart. Will she spiral out of control and loose all hope, or can she still be rescued? (The summary will get clearer with later chapters, I just don't want to reveal too much just yet.)

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their owners.

Basically, I own nada, just creating random events for fun :)

A/N: Because you are all so incredibly awesome, I have decided to put up a new story despite the sabbatical that I promised myself.

Okay, so this isn't one of the three stories that I talked about, this one popped up over night.

I'm not 100% sure that I like this story or where I have planned to take it, so pretty please review and let me know if I should scrap it or continue it.

P.s. I know it's a bit confusing, but it will all be explained soon...

Ch 1:

Mark Sloan pulled away from his long-time girlfriend once the irritating, little, electronic machine next to him started vibrating and beeping. Lexie tried to distract him back into the kiss, however, the constant blaring of the pager beside their heads made distraction near impossible. Reluctantly Mark rolled off of Lexie's petite body, onto the bed beside her.

'911 ER, Bailey'

"Shit." He climbed off of the bottom bunk and hastily yanked his discarded scrubs back on. "Sorry babe, we'll have to carry on with this a bit later." He planted a soft, chaste kiss on the brunette's lips before running out of the room and down to the ER.

"Took your time getting here, Sloan." Bailey firmly stated, as she angrily pulled her yellow gown off. "I thought I might have to send a search party out for you."

"Nice to see you too." He smiled cheekily. "What have we got?" Down to business now, he noticed how her expression changed. Her anger and irritation turned to hurt and pity, maybe even worry. "Bailey what happened?"

"Torres came in with the last one. She's a wreck. You need to find her. I can't have some blood soaked zombie walking my hallways, scaring all my patients."

His heart sank. Callie. She wasn't meant to be working today. "What happened to her?"

"I don't know. We opened up the ambulance and she was sitting there with..." Bailey paused unable to mention the name. "With... She was covered in blood from head to toe. She's out of it Mark. I tried to talk to her but she looked straight through me like I wasn't even there, carried on walking. You need to find her and get her home or to Psych."

Every part of him wanted to ask who it was, a small part of him already knew, but he needed to get to Callie first. She was the most important person in the world to him, other than Lexie.

Mark paused as he neared the OR board. The name jumped out at him. He went cold, he felt sick and shivers ran up and down his spine. A renewed sense of urgency filled him as he darted along the passages of Seattle Grace, more desperate now than ever to find Callie.

Callie stood stock still in the middle of the empty hospital corridor. Her dark olive skin tone was pale in comparison to her better days. Tears streamed down her hot cheeks, her blood covered hands shook, and she felt like she was going to pass out.

The petrified surgeon walked over to the wall on jelly legs. She turned to lean against it just as her legs gave out beneath her. As she slid down the cold brick, blood from her jacket turned the sterile white a startling scarlet.

Calliope Iphegenia Torres looked down at her red hands. She couldn't count the fingers before her due to the tears that blurred everything into one. There was no skin, there was no bone, and there were no nails, just blood... Red blood... Rivers of red blood...

Her head fell back against the scarlet stained wall. She couldn't breathe. Her heart pounded faster than any that she had ever heard in all her years of wielding a stethoscope. Her pulse pounded angrily in her ears, telling her that she was still alive.

Blood... Scarlet rivers...

Her eyes refused to close. Her brain knew what it would see. What it would be forced to relive. Her heart knew it would suffer another blow.

Would seeing it again maybe kill her? Wouldn't that be better?

The metallic smell of fresh blood filled the medicinal air. A smell that was normally comforting. The smell that signified that a life was being saved, that a bone was being put back together, a future being realigned. Not today. No, not today.

The pale woman, sitting against the wall in the middle of a deserted corridor, forced out a slow shaky breath. She pulled her long legs up to her chest, noting the blood that covered her pale jeans. Her head dropped down onto the blood patches on her knees and she wrapped her arms protectively around herself, finally giving into the sobs. She still refused to close her eyes.

A shuddering sob wracked the woman from her core. Her whole body shook furiously. She didn't care anymore. The Latina let herself fall to the side, so that she was curled up in the foetal position with her head tucked up against her chest.

She was oblivious to everything around her. She was numb, she was broken. Callie didn't feel the strong arms that pulled her up and enveloped her rigid form, and she didn't hear the deep husky voice whispering soothing words into her deaf ears.

All she felt was the drying blood crusting on her hands, on her face, in her hair. All she heard was the blood pounding behind her ears. All she saw were the blood patches on her stained jeans. Her senses were fine-tuned to the life lost, the life's blood that she wore. The blood... Red blood... Scarlet rivers...

Mark Sloan noticed the brunette curled up into a ball, shaking, lying against the wall of the corridor. He had never seen her like this. He had never witnessed his best friend die.

Mark wasn't afraid of the blood. He couldn't help but shrink knowing whose it was, knowing whose life's essence coated his best friend's skin, her clothes and even her hair. He walked over to the broken woman and scooped her limp body up into his arms. He held her tightly against his broad chest.

He had expected her to look up at him, to wrap her arms around him. He had thought that she would have sought comfort from him. He realised sadly, that he might as well have not been there.

Sloan looked down into her eyes. He saw that they weren't closed, but they might as well have been. The woman was looking dead ahead, the warmth that he would normally find behind them done, replaced by an icy vacant stare. He knew that she was gone, he knew that she was dead inside.

He thought back to the name that was written in large capital letters on the OR board. There was no way that Callie would be able to survive the loss. She was dead now, but at least he knew that there was a chance that she would recover. For now.

Mark pulled Callie up with him as he stood in the passage. He didn't know how no one else had noticed her yet, Bailey wasn't exaggerating when she had said that Callie was covered in blood from head to toe.

For the first time since he got to her, he felt Callie acknowledge him. Her shaky arms wrapped around his strong midsection, her head nuzzling into his chest. He pulled her closer into himself. He knew better than to say anything to her right now, she would pull back into herself. He clung to the unstable woman and led her slowly towards the Attendings' locker room where he knew that she would have a spare change of clothes.

Mark pushed the door open with his free hand, not wanting to let Callie go in fear that she would just collapse back onto the floor. They had had a few stares from curios passersby, but the small woman was oblivious to them, she remained with her head tucked into Mark's chest all the way to the safety of the room.

He put her carefully onto one of the benches directly in front of the brunette's locker. He retrieved a pair of dark jeans, a purple three-quarter length top and the black Hoodie that she had stolen from him a few months ago. He searched for her toiletry bad and pulled that out too before picking up a towel and leading the distant woman towards one of the showers.

He didn't find it awkward stripping and showering the woman. It was like she wasn't even there. It was clinical and heartbreaking for him. She followed all his directions without even blinking. She looked straight ahead, seeing straight through the walls, through Mark, through life.

Mark didn't notice Bailey there until she spoke to him. "How's she doing?"

"She'd dead inside. You were right when you called her a zombie. She hasn't closed her eyes, she hasn't cried, she hasn't spoken." Bailey looked over at Callie who was once again sat on the bench. She was blood free, but she still wore a vacant, heart shattering stare.

"You're taking her up to Psych right?" Bailey put her hands on her hips and looked up into the eyes of the cocky surgeon. She already knew his answer, but she still had to ask.

"I can't do that to her. I'm taking her home with me. I won't take my eyes off her. I promise Bailey, she'll be okay with me."

Three hours later and Mark was lying in bed spooning Callie. She was yet to say anything to him. He had led her across the road from the hospital, opened his door and watched as Callie walked directly into his room and lay on her side in his bed. That was over two hours ago.

He had tried to get her to eat. She hadn't responded. She just lay in the same position on the bed, staring straight ahead. He felt his eyes getting heavy. He leaned up on his elbow, looking over Callie's body into her dead eyes. He knew that it was unlikely that she would sleep.

Mark awoke startled. Something wasn't right. He ran his hand across the bed next to him. The sheets were cold, Callie wasn't there. His cell phone rang on the nightstand next to him. He looked at the caller ID before answering it hastily.

"Get over here right now!" Lexie shouted into the phone.

"What, Lex what happened?" He jumped out of bed again, panicking. "I have to get Torres first. She's probably watching TV or something."

"Mark she's here. I don't know how she got here, but she's here. She's gone nuts. She's not the zombie Callie that everyone's been talking about. She's in the Attending's lounge screaming and throwing things."

"I'm on my way Lex." He snapped his phone closed and shoved it into his pocket, grabbing his keys and sprinting out of the door. How the hell did I let this happen?

About an hour or so earlier...

Callie looked over at Mark. He was fast asleep. She sat up on the edge of the bed and slipped her shoes back onto her aching feet. Her whole body ached.

She felt numb. She knew that she needed to see what had happened. She walked across the road with the hospital in mind. She felt like she was in a trance. Like there was something in the hospital that was calling her.

No one noticed her. She slipped into the ICU ward and made a beeline toward the room. She didn't know how she knew that was the room, but it was drawing her, pulling her like opposing magnets.

She looked through the window. Her heart dissolved, there was nothing inside her. She felt knives stabbing into her, she stopped breathing momentarily. Her legs begged to give out, to give up. Her lungs begged her to sob. She shook her head and tightened her hands into fists.

There was no one there. The world had left her alone. The lights of the passages blared down on her. They hurt her tired eyes. They buzzed loudly against her aching ears. She needed darkness, she needed silence. She needed an end.

She found herself throwing the door to the Attending's lounge open. Her body was on auto pilot, every time she had walked into the lounge, she walked to the coffee machine and poured herself a hot, steaming cup. Her body knew this pattern and forced her brain to comply.

Before she registered what was happening, she saw the small coffee machine flying out of her hands and across the room. She started to feel, but it was anger instead of pain.