A/N: Ages on Grey's are not my forte, they seem to change or not make sense in canon so I made up my own (I think).

"Jesus!"

Callie slammed the door to the on-call room; shutting her eyes while she took a deep breath. Running a hand through her hair, she stepped toward the nurse's station trying to wash her mind of the scene she'd walked in on.

Seconds later Lexie burst from the room, straightening herself as she darted down the hall. Grinning Mark walked out behind her. Fixing the lapels of his coat, he dropped beside Callie who stood staring intently at the front page of a day old newspaper.

"Don't be shy Torres," Mark snickered as he leaned closer, "people have gotten crazier shows. If I remember correctly, you and," he quieted before finishing his thought.

"Yeah," Callie laughed uneasily, raising her hand to stop anything else Mark might think if saying. "Just remind me never to use that on-call room again."

Sliding away from her, Mark settled against the front desk. Sending a quick side glance toward his best friend, he watched as she subtly shifted away from him, her eyes searching for anything that might help release her from their conversation.

Things between them had been slightly off, awkward even, since the night of his bachelor party. Tossing out a wistful smile, images of their unmentioned kiss ran through his head like some forbidden slide show. Sighing, his thumb hit the clean metal of his wedding band.

"I think I'm-" Callie started, breaking his focused inner monologue.

Loud beeping hit their ears before she could finish forming her getaway. Smiling, she looked down at her hip and grabbed the pager. Biting her lip, she glanced up and titled her head apologetically.

"I have to go."

Mark nodded and watched her turn away quickly. Shaking his head, he dropped his elbows against the counter top, standing there for only seconds before his own pager blared.

"Mr. Andrews, I'm Dr. Torres and I'll be," Callie paused looking up from her chart to the patient waiting in the room. His face was tightened in an effort to take control of the pain inflicted by his injury, but that wasn't what caught her attention. The three piece pirate suit, complete with eye patch and shoulder bird was far more distracting.

"I know," the man chuckled embarrassedly, staring across the way at Callie. "It was my nephew's birthday; he's a big Jack Sparrow fan."

Nodding, she expressed her understanding, knowing through experience how difficult it could be to satisfy children. Moving forward, she came around to the arm he was nursing.

"No need to explain, I've got two nieces and a nephew of my own."

"Ah," the man winced as she slowly touched the tender area, "you know what's it's like then."

"I do," Callie smiled and continued their chat, trying to keep him distracted while she finished the examination of his arm. "How did it happen?"

Chuckling, he squeezed the bottom of the seat with his uninjured arm before starting. "Do you want the real story or the less embarrassing fabricated one?"

"The real one." She smirked at him.

"I got a little carried away during a play sword fight with my niece." Callie quirked a brow and motioned for him to continue, "I climbed a tree in the yard, trying to get to higher ground and didn't make it all the way up. My foot slid when I was almost to the top and I fell on my arm after I finally hit the ground."

Glancing over at him sympathetically, she offered him a quick smile of comfort. Biting her lip, she leaned closer. "Well Mr. Andrews-"

"John, call me John."

"John," Callie continued, cheeks flushing a little as she began to notice his chiseled features and attractive smile. Mentally shaking her thoughts, she started again, "I'm sorry to say this, but you're going to need a cast for that arm."

"Well," John scanned the room and laughed as he met her eyes, "I'm kind of glad. I'm leaving this whole thing with a few battle scars and a cast."

Snickering at his assessment, Callie shook her head in amusement. "There is that plus."

"And meeting you. That's a plus too."

Eyes widening slightly, Callie gave him a side smirk as she pulled away.

"Too soon for the cheesy pick up line?" John quipped shyly.

"Maybe," she smiled slowly pulling a stand of hair behind her ear subconsciously flirting.

"Maybe," the word dragged slowly as he eyed her hopefully, "I could take you to dinner, as a thank you for fixing my arm."

"I don't think that-"

"You should get involved with me." He finished her sentence nodding. "I get it, doctor and a patient might kind of weird."

Biting her lip, Callie eyes furrowed apologetically. She knew her hesitation hadn't come from what he'd suggested, but she kept quiet, deciding to let the details remain unknown.

"Are you single?"

"Yes." Callie answered truthfully.

Squinting, he furrowed his brows in deep thought, then looked up at her again with a charming smile and a nervous chuckle. "There's really nothing I can do to change your mind?"

Callie grinned at him, shaking her head she turned to gather her tools. "Tell you what," she began, "you wear a pink cast for the next six weeks and I might consider meeting you for a cup of coffee."

Grunting, John smiled at her, "humiliation, the key to every woman's heart."

"Is that a no?"

"Oh no, I'm going to sport that baby proudly," his eyes crinkled handsomely when he spoke, "hell if it gets me a cup of coffee and conversation with someone as gorgeous as you, I might mount the thing on my wall."

"Are those from your stalker?" Cristina asked as one of the front desk employees of the hospital presented her with a small bouquet of flowers that had arrived while she was in surgery.

"His name is John and he is not a stalker." Callie retorted, sniffing the small bundle of lilies handed to her. Smiling, she thought of their sender, the handsome and surprisingly quirky column writer who'd donned a pirate costume to make the children in his family happy. He'd kept in contact after their initial meeting, occasionally calling on her to ask about his 'injury', leading to the exchange of numbers and more in depth conversations. She enjoyed their late night chats, his odd sense of humor made her laugh, something she felt incapable of only months before.

"Ugh now you're smiling, when is this guy's cast coming off so you can get laid?"

Turning sharply at Cristina, she rolled her eyes at the expectant glance. "I am not going to sleep with him Cristina. I'm not even sure I'm going out with him."

Scoffing, Cristina bit into the apple in her palm. "Like you could seriously keep your legs closed to Mr. Wonderful."

"Mr. Wonderful?" Callie chuckled, placing the flowers on the table.

"Somebody call for me?" Mark came up to the women, smirking at Cristina's mocking snort .

"Because when anyone uses the term 'wonderful' they must be referring to you," Cristina retorted, picking up her files from the desk. Smirking at the duo, she decided to stir the pot before walking away. "Anyway Torres, I say sex up pirate boy. He's earned it."

Enjoying the seriousness that bloomed over Mark's face, Cristina smiled uncharacteristically and danced down the hallway.

Glaring at the retreating form, Callie tucked her hands in her coat, waiting for Mark's inevitable opinion.

"You're not seriously going out with this guy are you?"

"I might," Callie eyed him with disdain as she answered his accusatory question.

"He's a creep Cal." Mark huffed, irritated with the fact that she was strongly considering dating the eye patch wearing nerd he'd seen her fixing up nearly a month ago.

"He is not creepy." She defended firmly, tightening her jaw.

"Callie, the guy sends flowers to your work."

"I know the weirdo," Callie responded with a flat tone.

"It's…" Mark paused, searching for the right words, but he floundered, "There are plenty of other people who'd be happy to go out with you. Like that nurse in surgery with us the other day. She was flirting, you two looked pretty good-"

"Mark shut up," Callie stopped his rambling with biting tone. "I like the flowers. And I like him."

'That's the problem,' Mark thought bitterly.

Over the past few weeks he'd noticed the change in her, she smiled more. The twinkle in her eyes, the one that had been missing for longer than it should have been, had slowly resurfaced. She was happy; and it had nothing to do with him.

Turning he pulled the Blackberry from his pocket; while completely rude, he didn't have it in him to listen. Nothing she said would convince him to give the guy a chance.

Grunting at the thought, Mark's fingers nimbly scrolled through his cell phone. Shoving the device into his pocket, he made a scene of shrugging the kinks from his shoulders.

"You're really going to ignore me?" Callie asked annoyed at his indifferent display.

"Are you done singing Captain Hook's praises because I really did come up to you for a reason Torres."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Callie looked up at the ceiling, biting her bottom lip in frustration. Taking it as cue, Mark continued.

"I was actually wondering if you might want to head out to Joe's with me tonight." His voice softened as he released a small chuckle. "To hang out, like we used to."

Guilt residing over her, Callie turned sympathetic eyes on Mark. Over the past few weeks she had been secretly dealing with the thoughts and images her mind had painted of her and her best friend, analyzing everything little detail, trying desperately to tie the whirlwind of emotions she felt to something logical. She had pushed the large gap between them; not with bad intentions, but their friendship had suffered.

Titling her head, her eyes scanned him slowly. While the pace of her heart still quickened and warmth flowed through her body, the feeling hadn't been as intense as before.

Her gazed dropped to the band on his finger, a symbol of his marriage, promised fidelity and love to another woman. The piece of jewelry didn't bother her anymore; out of the corner of her eye, she caught the faint purple of the lilies by her elbow.

She was finally moving past the unexpected kiss in her apartment; it didn't rush her mind with possibilities anymore, it was fading into a memory, an on the fly incident induced by fear.

Breaking into a smile, she met his stare and nodded. They could now repair any unease that still remained between them. Their friendship and the man in front of her, who'd worked so hard for his happiness, deserved at least that much.

"You're buying."

"Just like old times." Mark smirked, bumping his hip against hers.

She laughed and grabbed the bundle of flowers affectionately.

"Just like old times."

Stepping out of the shower, Mark huffed at the clothes left in a trail through their bedroom. Irritated with the mess, he bent grabbing each article of clothing and tossed them into the laundry basket beside the bathroom door. Running a hand over his damp hair, he pulled open the top drawer of his dresser. With a less than enthusiastic grunt, he looked down over the rumpled and disorganized shirts. Tightening his jaw, he snatched a worn NYU shirt and slammed he drawer shut. Covering himself, he made his way to the kitchen.

Pausing in the doorway, he watched as Lexie danced around the room, wearing one of his shirts, pulling milk from the fridge and a measuring cup from one of the cabinets.

He waited for the familiar clawing sensation in his chest, for the instantaneous smile, but neither came. Frowning, he realized the image no longer held the same effect as it once had.

Before he could dwell on what it meant, Lexie spotted and ushered him to the table. Seconds later, a bowl of macaroni and cheese was placed on front of him and Lexie plopped herself across the way. Sending her a fabricated smile, he lifted his fork and surveyed the meal.

Sighing, he let some of the meal droop back onto his plate before taking a bite.

He'd always had an idea of marriage, where him and his wife would be hopelessly in love, where they'd be able to sit around the table and talk about everything, where he'd smile willingly every time she entered a room.

Day after day he'd come to see how faraway from fantasy his reality had become.

The loud ringing of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. Smiling as he recognized the familiar jingle, he grabbed it and walked into the living area.

"Torres," he greeted her amusedly, grinning into the receiver despite her inability to see him.

"He cooks!"

"What are you talking about?" Mark questioned, dropping onto the couch. Chuckling he could imagine her pacing the floor of whatever room she was occupying. "And stop pacing."

"I'm not pacing." She answered quickly.

"I know you Torres, and don't glare into the phone."

"Shut up," She shot back agitatedly.

"Don't be mean Cal. What were you rambling about?"

"Mark he cooks," Callie whispered back harshly, "really, really well."

"I cook," Mark grumbled interrupting her, remembering exactly where she was at the moment. Earlier, he'd barged into her apartment with Rocky and The Godfather, ready to have a mini movie marathon with her before Lexie got back to the apartment. But she was gliding around the room, getting ready for her big date with the pink casted boy wonder he never stopped hearing about.

"Microwaving left over burritos from your favorite Mexican restaurant hardly counts as cooking Sloan."

"Were you hungry afterward?" He inquired and waited for one of her witty responses.

When none came, he smiled, "I rest my case."

"I think I'm going to break the rule." Callie finally spoke, sighing into his ear.

"No you're not." Mark spoke sharply, sending her his best authoritative tone.

"I think we're going to have sex tonight."

"No you're not," he repeated, moving from his relaxed posture and settling into a straight back no nonsense sitting position.

"Mark," she started, "he's doing everything right, he's been amazing and…he's got potential."

"You don't even know him Torres, he could be some psychotic serial killer."

"We've got potential," she spoke into the phone, though he was sure she was no longer speaking to him. Instead she was coming to a realization.

"Callie…" He started, attempting to foil her train of thought.

"Good night Mark and don't try to call me."

"Cal, you're not…" His words ended when the sound of the dial tone reached his ear.

Griping, he redialed her number, only to be greeted with her answering machine. Tossing his phone carelessly onto the couch, he rubbed his hair before getting up from his seat.

"What was that about?" Lexie asked, shoving a spoonful noodles in her mouth. Mark caught the slightly riled implication in her question and the fact that she hadn't needed to ask who was on the other line.

"Nothing important," he replied, taking his seat across from her, hoping that his words held a bit of truth. The date really wasn't all that important, Callie's adoration of the Seattle journalist would die down soon and things would shift back and become completely normal again.

"Lexie we're going to be late!" Mark yelled from the kitchen counter, where he sat nibbling on a pair of Saltine crackers. Flipping his wrist, he checked his watch and began tapping his foot on the wooden floor.

Mumbling, Lexie came through the hallway that led to their bedroom. Slipping on one shoe, she straightened her dress and glanced up at him.

"You look beautiful."

Skipping the awkward blush and stuttered 'thank you' he'd come to expect, Lexie sent a tight smile and strode past him to retrieve her coat. Sighing, Mark watched as she walked out the door. Grabbing his keys from their hook, he twirled them on his index finger and followed behind her.

Close to an hour after leaving their apartment, Mark sat staring across the table at his wife of a little over half a year.

Their date had been quiet and more uncomfortable than anything else he'd experienced. It was a far cry from the celebration most went through for their own anniversary dinner.

Flicking the tips of the fork on his left, Mark thought back over the past months. He and Lexie had drifted apart, each spending more time with friends and patients at the hospital than each other. When they were together, casual conversation was a struggle; neither opened up to the other as effortlessly as they did with friends and co-workers.

He looked down at the table grimly after watching the diamond of her ring flicker beautifully against the restaurant lighting.

The first few weeks of their marriage had been perfect. They basked in their newly wed glory, holding each moment together as a significant piece of their lives. He was happy, not completely content, but happy nonetheless.

However, after the initial fondness of living together began to wear off, their differences came bubbling to the surface and became clearer to anyone who took the time to observe them.

"This is a nice place." Lexie spoke pulling him from his musings.

"Yeah," he nodded, brushing his fingers anxiously against the table cloth. "We're lucky they kept our table 20 minutes after the reservation time."

"I got over excited. It's not everyday my husband actually wants to spend a night with me," she spoke in a defensive tone, grabbing her wine glass and whispering before taking a sip, "and not our neighbor."

Clenching his jaw, Mark bore his eyes into hers, "What exactly does that mean?"

"You know what it means."

Snickering, he shook his head at the turn of conversation. His relationship with Callie had been the center of most arguments they'd had in the last several weeks.

"Are you two sleeping together?"

Stunned at the bluntness of her question, Mark leaned back from the table. Sighing, he looked up at the ceiling, asking the higher power he'd never particularly believed in, to grant him patience. Sneering at her accusation, he returned his eyes to his fuming wife.

"She's dating someone Lexie and I'm married, to you," he paused and sniffed indignantly, "or have you forgotten that little fact."

Snorting, Lexie sat back in her chair, curling her upper lip scornfully. "Sometimes I wonder if you remember. And neither of you are strangers to having sex while with other people."

Knowing the situation she referred to, Mark ran the tip of his tongue over the top row of his teeth, gaining composure and staying as collected as he could. "You don't know what happened between any of us, you don't get to judge anyone. Especially her."

"Of course I don't. You still haven't answered my question." Lexie continued, fiercely tugging a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, glowering as she waited for a confession.

"No," he answered firmly, "we're not having sex, we're not sleeping together, we're not having an affair. We're friends, I thought you understood that."

"I'm your wife, not her."

Shutting his eyes tightly, he groaned in displeasure at her response. "Don't make this about her, she's not the problem."

"Then explain to me, what is the problem?" Lexie mumbled glancing around the room at the other customers in the restaurant.

"You're 25, I'm turning 40. At some point in the near future I want a family, you've got a set life plan that prevents you from even thinking about it for another 10 years. We can't hold a decent conversation, you flip flop constantly, sometimes I feel like I'm arguing with a child."

"What about you?" She rose instantly, raising her voice and drawing the attention of others. "You moped about me not moving in with you and now I play second fiddle to a woman you never intended to let go!" Calming she began to breathe loudly, lowering her voice she met his eyes with command and determination. "You have to choose."

Not waiting for his response, she grabbed her handbag from the table and stormed out the door.

Mark sat quietly, inhaling and exhaling slowly, trying desperately to calm every nerve in his body. Waving a hand for the waiter, he laughed at the gossip and quick glances sent toward him. His idea of marriage couldn't have been any farther from reality.

Pacing, Mark glanced down at his watch again.

She'd be down in a few minutes.

Sliding a hand down his face, he looked around the busy hallways, watching people rushing past open doors and empty chairs.

He really hadn't known why'd he ended up in the middle of it all. He should have been home, trying to make amends or salvage what was left of his dangling thread marriage.

The elevator doors slid open loudly, capturing his attention instantly. She was the first person he spotted, peacefully searching through her phone, completely unaware of his presence.

"Hey."

Callie jumped back, startled by the unexpected call of her name. Pulling the strap of her purse back onto her shoulder, she stepped off the elevator and into the hospital lobby. Furrowing her brows, she clutched her chest and looked over at Mark.

"What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering Mark gave an indifferent shrug before he stared absentmindedly at the ground. His left hand began to clench, tightening so much that the force of his strength began pushing his wedding band off his finger. Moving quickly Callie grasped his hand with hers, clasping them gently, sending him comfort and stopping him from completing his mindless task.

Gazing down at their intertwined fingers, Mark glanced up and met Callie's concerned face. Squeezing her hand affectionately, he tugged her through the automatic doors of the hospital.

"I need a drink."

Watching her send a small wistful smile his way as she followed behind him, willingly offering her ear and shoulder, made his stomach flip with emotion.

Dropping Callie's hand, Mark stuffed his own into a coat pocket and let her walk ahead.

Looking up he saw her glance at him again, biting her bottom lip in worry and tilting her head in genuine sympathy. And as she turned to continue in the predetermined direction, a familiar clawing sensation joined the whirling emotions of his core.

Now her understood why he'd gone to her first.