Author's Note:

Author's Note:

As always, thanks for the reviews and whatnot- they're what keep me writing this. I'm going to give you a quick heads-up though. Since I'm not really sure how far I want to take the story, I might be ending in a few chapters. But again, that's a MIGHT. We'll see. And if I do end this story, then the incredible temptation to write more Callica may win out and compel me to write a sequel- of sorts. Or even write a lemon….I have never, EVER written one of those though, but we shall see. And sorry about the wait- I must've re-written and re-started this thing a million times, but it still doesn't match exactly how I want but…yeah. When I have more time I'll try again and see what's what.

Anyways, you know the drill- read and review! Thanks!

Disclaimer:

Still not mine…sigh heh

She was floating in a void, where occasionally an image or two would pass by. There were scenes from her childhood and life: first bike ride, first dance she went to, first car she got. And there were current things as well: a scene from the elevator ride when she and Erica were after the night of drinking and they shared a laugh at Mark's expense, the nights spent with her, drinking wine and laughing until their sides split, THE elevator when Erica kissed her and many, many more. Seeing my life flash before my eyes…, Callie thought distractedly; her thought was like a fluff of cotton floating on the wind currents of a balmy summer breeze.

She rather preferred this state; there was no intense dagger of pain in her chest like God had cruelly speared her heart like a fish in the water; there was no need to see the pure pain and anguish in Erica's eyes as she carried her inside; there was no need to know that yeah, she'd probably die. It was…calm. Just calm. And so she floated.

………………………………………..

The graveyard shift at Seattle Grace was currently up to their elbows in one of their own: Callie Torres, with Erica fighting tooth and nail to repair Callie's dissected aorta. When they opened her up, her blood pressure was way too high, and that was Erica's first concern, so she stepped up and got to work, trying to put the fact that yeah, the woman she loved had a chance of dying today if she didn't perform flawlessly.

The beeping monitor was quite possibly the sound that Erica hated the most, and a sound that she had heard far too much in the past two days. And therefore, it was NOT welcome at all in any degree, especially when it applied to Callie. "Paddles!" She directed. Her body on auto pilot and shouting commands, it was now Dr. Hahn that had taken over- cold, calm and confident in her abilities. But after thumbing the buttons on the defibrillators twice and having that shrill scream still jab into Erica's brain like an ice pick, her resolve was cracking, hair line cracks that began to widen and deepen into fissures. "Dr. Hahn…," Webber began. Erica shot him a venomous look. "I am not ready to quit, Dr. Webber," she snapped. "Charge to 12 joules," she ordered the nurse. "C'mon, Cal…..don't do this to me," Erica murmured under her breath as she placed the paddles again next to Callie's heart. Thumbing the buttons again, she looked at the monitor with knuckles white on the batons-

-and her heart felt like it exploded and soared at the same time. That hateful shrill screech regulated into beeps. Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, Erica handed the batons back to the nurse and, without another comment, went back to Callie's heart, trying to repair the three-layer tear in the aorta with a synthesized graft.

"She's a fighter," rumbled the Chief with a certain note of pride in his voice, but Erica didn't hear or reply. Every ounce of concentration was spent on repairing Callie's heart; in a way, it was Erica's as well. And the only sound was the normal beep-beep of the monitor and the clicking clack of surgical tools.

……………………………………………..

There was a light, and as she was floating she consciously made herself stop. Is that…? Is that the proverbial light? At the end of tunnel? Callie asked herself. Intrigued, she didn't realize she was moving forward towards said light until, from way, way far off, she heard, "….don't do this to me…" Pausing, Callie looked around and saw nothing but black before her. When she looked back at the light, however, a figure made of light motes seemed to coalesce. "…Abuela?" She asked, eyes opening wide. Her grandmother had died when she Callie was young- maybe at around the cusp of turning seven, but one thing that she remembered was that her grandma always had a kind, seamed face with an amiable disposition.

The figure nodded and held her hand out, smiling that same smile from oh so long ago. Callie took another step forward, but felt something tug on her arm. The words that the disembodied voice from earlier had said came back to her again. "….don't do this to me…" Erica. Erica's voice.

But if I go back, it'll hurt again, she thought with a pang of sadness. But even with the ones that you loved that passed away; it still won't be anything like what you have now. Your parents won't be there. Your friends won't be there. Erica won't be there whispered another part of her subconscious. Taking another, lingering look at her grandmother, Callie sighed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be pulled away from the light and back into the void, where she floated once more.

……………………………………………

The body could be, and would be treacherous to it's' owner on occasion. For example, when Erica and the rest of SGH were on the nineteenth hour of the twenty hour procedure to repair Callie's heart, Erica felt her leg begin to cramp up. Shifting her weight minutely, she refused to let the Chief know about it. He'd probably send her away on a mandatory break while Yang would operate. And that, quite simply, was something that Erica wouldn't allow to happen. No-one, no-one would handle Callie's heart other than herself. So she grit her teeth, trying to ignore that fatigue creeping in, trying to ignore that goddamn, traitorous cramp. For the most part, she succeeded.

And when the last graft was in place and the pericardium layer around the heart patched, there was enough silence to make a graveyard look like a New Year's Eve party, broken only but Erica's curt commands for tools. And when Erica finished stitching Callie's chest and stepped back, there was actually applause, form all those in the OR and in the observation window. Erica, however, didn't hear any of this. As soon as she stepped back, she collapsed, the mental and physical strain of the last three days finally taking its toll. She felt the cold tile under her cheek and then black, blissfully thick, came to shroud her in the snaking tendrils of sleep.

……………………………………

Erica stared at Callie's face, beautiful in repose as soft beeps and the rising of her chest indicated she was alive. It was two days after the surgery, and Erica only went home to shower and get cleaned up. Before and after every surgery she came and checked how Callie was doing, and she was always first and last on the rounds Erica made in the hospital. As was mandatory post-aortic dissection procedure, Callie was in a drug induced coma that would last for three days, where most of the recovery would take place. On the last day, the intubation tube would be taken out and the patient would breathe unassisted.

And through it all, Erica sat by Callie's side, holding her hand and praying that she'd be able to see those chocolate eyes open again.

On the third day, Erica went home, took a shower and came back late that night. But there was a tight feeling in her gut, like something very, very bad had happened or was going to happen. And when she quickened her pace to Callie's room and saw that the blinking lights that symbolized Callie was alive were off, as were the overhead ceiling fixtures. Feeling sick now, Erica spun and demanded of a passing nurse, "What happened??" The nurse looked at Callie's room and said with sad, nervous eyes "She coded when you were gone and….well…." The nurse's ensuing silence said it all. Callie was done. She was gone.

Erica gave an anguished cry and tried opening the door, only to find that it was locked. Slamming her fist against the wood, she slid down against the surface to land in a heap on the floor with her head in her hands. NO. THIS CANNOT BE FUCKING HAPPENING! THE LAST TIME I CHECKED, SHE WAS OKAY- SHE WAS HEALING-she was…she was….alive; Erica thought as tears came pouring out of her eyes. This cannot be happening- I saved her. I saved h-

"Erica. Hey, don't cry."

Erica's eyes snapped open and she straightened in her chair hurriedly, blinking sleep and the late afternoon sun out of her eyes; it was streaming in through the slits in the blinds. Erica turned to regard the speaker and her heart went in her throat. Sweet God. It was just a dream. It had been just a dream. Callie squeezed Erica's hand reassuringly. "I'm still here," she whispered weakly, giving Erica a smile. She glanced down at the sheets that she was resting her head on and noticed that, yeah, she'd been crying: tearstains were on the fabric. "What's wrong?" Callie asked, although it took her a little while to summon up the physical strength to ask. "I-nothing. It doesn't matter," Erica answered with a smile, and bought Callie's hand, entwined with her own, to her lips for a gentle kiss. Callie smiled tiredly, but her eyelids drooped and she went to sleep once more, but not to float in the void. That part was done.

…………………………………….

It was to be another few weeks until Callie could go home, and those weeks were filled with tests and smiles, tears and hugs. Even Addie came back from California to wish her well and talk. Alas, Callie's parents couldn't come; they were on a two week cruise but assured Callie they'd be there as soon as they could.

And when Callie went home, she didn't go to Yang's apartment. She went home with Erica. Holding hands with their fingers intertwined, they shared brief smiles with each other as they left the hospital. It seemed like a million lifetimes when they both walked out the last time, and the gun was fired that almost took Callie away from Erica.

Callie's smiled faltered a little at the memory and Erica squeezed her hand. "It's over. We came through this," she said with a quick smile. Callie laughed, but it was more out of gratitude and relief than humor. Erica looked at her curiously, with that small smile on her face. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just….well, at the risk of sounding horribly cheesy, I'm just glad you said we; and that this is- or rather, was our first real trial as a couple. We've survived our first trial by fire, as it were, and you healed my heart." There was a beat of silence and then Erica snickered. "You're right. That was pretty cheesy." Callie hit her playfully. "Wow, way to encourage me to open up," she said, rolling her eyes. But then Erica's face was suddenly serious. She bought Callie's hands up to her lips and kissed her knuckles. They walked the rest of the way to Erica's car in companionable silence.

Callie's lips were firmly in place on Erica's before they were even inside Erica's door. Callie kicked the door shut with her foot and her hands were already sliding under Erica's jacket. There were two identical clunks as both dropped their purses, both finding a better a better use for their hands. As they meandered up the stairs to Erica's bedroom, they both left a trail of clothes to mark their passage: their jackets were the first to go, with a shoe there, a shoe here, another pair of socks.

And at the top of the stair Erica's three-quarters length button-down could be found; as each button was undone Callie painstakingly kissed her way down Erica's chest, leaving a crimson flush on her ivory skin. Next to said shirt, Callie's sea-green blouse was discarded after Erica running her nails all over Callie's soft skin while simultaneously teasing and pulling the hem up.

And outside of the threshold of the bedroom, as part of the trail, two pairs of pants could also be found- a pair of break-aways with snap buttons on the sides that Erica pulled off after un-snapping most of the buttons and running her hands up Callie's legs, dangerously skimming her hands close to her inner thighs. The other pair was a pair of sunrise yoga pants that Callie had given Erica for their first day of said yoga. The brunette hooked her thumbs over the elastic waistband and, painfully slow, dragged them down, kissing and nibbling her legs on the way. God, I'm glad I shaved my legs last night, was Erica's last coherent thought as they both tumbled into her bed, the sheets soft and inviting.

And if one were to follow that previously described trail up to where it led, well, there's no doubt what one would find, is there?

Author's Note:

Oh come on. You didn't really think I was going to kill Callie, did you?hehe