--
Startle The Heavens (Lament)
--
Sometimes they feel like, as doctors, it is their job to remain neutral because when they aren't, when they are involved personally the stakes jump and little mistakes become huge mistakes and then suddenly seemingly healthy people wind up dead or scarred for life. It's best to avoid those type of situations. It's easier on the mind and body to stay calm and collected. Unfortunately, death has a way of creeping into every aspect of one's life. It edges further in like a little mole burrowing in and out, determined to undermine all the good things about living. It takes away delight from simple pleasures, turns joyous occasions into gut wrenching reminders; it slowly but surely destroys everything in its path leaving the wreckage to the poor idiots who are stupid enough to stick around.
It's not a quick process. Sometimes the death itself is. Darren's was. He didn't linger for long, there wasn't a lot of suffering on his part (not that they know much one way or the other). There was no tube jammed down his throat and no monitor steadily beeping in the background serving to dampen the mood. But the part, the lingering thoughts and emotions of those who are personally entangled with the case, that train is slow moving and energy draining.
If they were never over acting participants it's easy to jump off the train and wave to the rest of the passengers as they bid a sorrowful goodbye to the free soul. They all dive, tuck and roll at different moments. From time to time little scrapes and broken bones are gained in the fall; if they weren't ready, if they weren't prepared for the impact. But what is worse is that some people never get off the train. They merely stare back at the multitudes below them in the tall weedy grass wishing to feel the ground under their feet; hoping that one day they will be sensing the sun's rays beat down against their flesh again. They meander the little track feeling the same things, wanting the same things, needing someone to hold their hand and maybe give them a little push from behind so they can fall face first into the mud.
Callie is still on the train refusing to acknowledge that the locomotive even exists. Mark is searching for the exit signs to relieve himself of the pain. He weaves through the seats, dashes through cars, handles the moves with precision but he's not getting released any time soon. He doesn't have the choice. There are no tickets and predestined pit stops on this beast. The outs won't illuminate themselves until his eyes are healed enough to see them.
They circle and circle through the fiery flames wondering why it is that it's not their turn. Under the tall shady trees of the refreshingly cool field Derek, Cristina, Izzie, Meredith, George and Richard can be seen carrying on about their lives. But for Addison, Alex, Miranda, Mark and Callie the joyride isn't over.
For the two most involved it's just beginning because sometimes trying to hold someone's hand on the bumpy ride is worse than prematurely jumping and getting yanked back aboard.
--
"You could at least talk to Callie. Hear her out Mark. She is trying to be better-"
"Go away Addison." He barks and slams his pink chart shut before tossing it on the counter in front of him. It's been a week and a half of the nagging, eleven days of rather pitiful voicemails and avoiding the raven hair that he loves at every turn of a corner. He's not ready to talk to her. He hasn't gathered his thoughts, his words are not prepared for battle and she'll want to battle- it's all she ever wants anymore and Mark is tired.
"Listen Thanksgiving is at my house this year so...you should come. See Mom, let her stuff you with pie. Maybe you'll be able to talk on a full stomach."
"I'm not hungry."
"You need to eat. You've lost weight. It doesn't look good." She nods knowingly as he looks down at his scrubs. He has lost quite a few pounds but running and not eating well will do that to a person. At least someone finally noticed.
"Mom hates me. Kathleen hates me, Nancy- I don't want to deal with all the noise besides I have to work." He stammers unconvincingly.
"You don't work. I told Richard to make sure you were off so you and Callie could come. I'm expecting you to be there." Addison smiles and sways off down the hall like she's on a cloud. Mark has no idea where she gets the bubbly attitude from or when she started talking to Callie but it must have been recent because the air of the entire hospital has changed...everything except the dark cloud Mark carries over his shoulder.
"I'm not coming." He shouts at her but if she hears him she doesn't let on.
--
It's the third time he's been drug into a spare room this week and it's always the same person bugging him about coming over for the holidays, a conversation that he is more than fed up with having. This time though he notices caramel colored skin instead of the ivory that now haunts his past. "Callie." He whispers lowly, checking behind a hanging curtain to make sure there are no sick patients.
She stares back at him. She had a point. She had an excuse, an apology, a speech and now nothing. Nothing when his blue, cold eyes look down at her. Not a word can make it to her mind clearly.
"Did you need something? Have something you wanted to say?" He asks callously, challenging her to rise.
"I wanted to know if you were coming to Thanksgiving. I'm staying with Addison and I was just...wondering." She says softly. Of all the things she has to say to this man that is what she comes up with. Good to see that her social awkwardness is still intact. The switching of gears is ridiculous. Going from tough as nails, hates the world to broken and trying to let people help is not an easy transition for Callie and it takes all of her self-restraint not to flip back to bitch mode every ten seconds.
"No. Anything else?" His eyes dart to the door, waiting to be released so he can get on with his day and move to his jogging where he doesn't have to think about anything. No wondering whether or not that bandage on her wrist is covering a dirty secret instead of an accident, no questioning whether or not he drove her to it, no ideas about things could have been so fucking different and how he wants a new life.
He regrets this. The situation he is in. Not his son, that was unarguably the best thing he has ever done with his life and probably always will be but the rest...the hurt and the relationship issues and the loyalty. He regrets all of that because it would have been easier to just let her have primary custody and for him to visit on the weekends but he got jealous, he got greedy and admittedly he feel in love a little. He regrets the last part too.
Things used to be so uncomplicated. He used to be so good at being detached.
"Thanks for the shirt." She says meekly thrusting the worn gray material in his hands. Their fingers brush and he feels his chest quiver for a second as she blushes. No, it was never supposed to end up like this. He wants his control back.
"No problem." He dashes for the door intent on hitting the stairs for a much needed outlet in between surgeries but her voice behind him calls him back. "Yeah?"
"I just wanted...I miss you."
"I miss you too." He grins slightly and then lets the door slam itself on his way out. He misses her but he doesn't need her back in his life. Not right now, not when he is trying to move on.
All Calliope Torres does is drag him down and he's done with it.
--
Between miles and showers and more footsteps logged on the wet pavement of Seattle he decided to go to Thanksgiving. He was healing, he was growing and this was a part of his life once so there was no reason not to attend. You know, unless you counted the adultery and long lost child that that section of his "family" knows nothing about. So now he is stuck next to Callie mashing potatoes while some fool, presumably Addison, has trusted her with a knife to continue preparing the vegetables for the small platter on his left. They were silent during the more than thorough instructions given by the rambling redhead who is obviously nervous and now he can't break the monotony. He can't blame Addison, the butterflies in his stomach are verging on the nauseous side of the scale.
He clears his throat and then squishes the masher thingy into the pot a little harder. Callie doesn't notice. She's busy watching the silver blade, keeping it far away from her skin, trying not to be too blatant with her apprehension.
"So..." Mark drifts on and looks around the corner to make sure their conversation isn't going to be overheard by nosy Shepherds.
"Yeah?" Callie questions attempting not to look overly interested. He's been ignoring her all week. Despite her phone calls, messages at the hotel and the planned rendez-vous in the on call room that went nowhere he has been nowhere accessible. She's on the verge of begging, the edge of crying when he is around. She needs him to understand that she realizes what she's done- she just doesn't know how to fix it. Especially without him.
"They don't...know and it's the holidays so I'd just as soon not say anything unless Derek has but I don't think that he would and they haven't flown out to bug me so I suppose it is safe to say that he didn't open his fat mouth-"
"You're...point?" Callie cuts in unwillingly. It's the most he's talked to her in over a month.
"My point is they don't know and I don't want to talk about it so...let's pretend that-" He doesn't finish, he can't say it out loud. He won't ask her to act like their son never existed, even though that's what needs to happen.
"I got it." She smiles softly. Her hand reaches across to his arm when his breath hitches and gives a light squeeze. "We can do this." She reminds him, "We've been through worse."
"Right."
--
"So Marky, how did you two meet?" Nancy asks, tipping her wine glass into her mouth once more.
Callie watches one of the sisters- Madolyn?- reach over and smack her arm. There's more people here then she cares to think fit in the house and every single time one of them looks at them sideways they are reaching for a hand or rubbing each other's legs to look involved. They are simply going through the motions they used to be so well acquainted with and it kills.
"Yeah. Tell us...or Addie will." Kathleen, (another sister? Callie is simply confused) threatens and then sets her chin on her palm, waiting and fascinated that the once great manwhore has settled down.
"Well...Cal, why don't you tell them? You're a better storyteller than I am." Mark shovels another spoonful of corn into his mouth and chews waiting.
"Oh. Ok." He tightens his grip on her hand below the table and she begins by inhaling deeply, "Well we met at work. That's kind of it actually and then we eventually got together and here we are."
"That's it?" Nancy asks, "That's how you tamed the wild beast? No magic tricks or shock collars in your bag of tricks?" Callie shakes her head as a unreadable expression comes across Mark's face and the color drains out of Addison's across the table. The hostess has done her level best to keep them all sober and playing nicely but she's had her run and frankly she needs a nap.
"Then you must be the one." Kathleen declares and raises her glass for a toast. They watch horrified as the rest of the table obliges. "To proving that Mark isn't the whore we all thought he was- Ouch!" She cries out as her mother's arm, Helen Callie thinks it was, reaches across a few place settings, "To Callie who made a man out of a child and to Mark who is one lucky bastard."
"Here here!" Derek shouts out from the end of the table, situated in the group of Shepherd women's husbands, and drinks before his sister can carry on.
At some point during the long drawn out meal, they went from happy with Mark's choices into interrogation mode which everyone but Callie knew was coming. The questions are rapid fire and unforgiving of hesitance and she can't for the life of her figure out why Addison spoke so highly of these people all of the time. Sure they're fun, rambunctious and entertaining but they aren't loving and openly receptive to the idea of their "brother" being taken away by someone he hadn't bothered to bring around before. She can only imagine how it was for her friend trying to steal away their actual blood relation.
Callie watches the rolls pass by in front of her and snatches one remembering Karen's (the twin of Kathleen she has learned) comment about how she shouldn't be afraid to eat more than the salad on her plate. Mark's been as silent as possible and Callie can feel her dam beginning to break, her resolve is crumbling in the mess of children, words and turkey.
"How long have you guys been together?" Kathleen asks.
"About 19 months." Callie replies and Mark shrugs his compliance. It sounds good enough.
"19 months Mark! And you haven't brought her home?" Helen scolds, her short brown hair bouncing as she disapproves and frankly Callie is frightened. This mother bear scares the shit out of her. She's normally alright with parents, she was good with George's but these people are on another playing field. They are from Connecticut, Addison explained earlier in the day, as if that is supposed to outline all of the differences plain and clear for her friend. It makes zero sense. What the fuck does a state have to do with anything?
"We've been busy." Mark relents and then stuffs his cheeks with more cranberry sauce and bird. He hasn't eaten like this in almost a year and he is going to be sick. That much is certain but it's well worth the distraction.
"Busy with what? You two run off and get married or something?"
"No." Callie manages and looks over at her "boyfriend". She wants to give up, call uncle, beg for mercy. This charade is not going well and she needs a punching bag. The only thing worse than pretending day in and day out for work is looking at the pained expression on Mark's face when he is forced to touch her. It looks like it physically harms him to feel her skin and it makes her want to vomit the truth and run for freedom in the form of whatever bar is closest and open.
"Addison this...stuff is delicious." Callie comments trying to take the focus off of them. Why isn't anyone paying attention to the pregnant lady who is about to explode? Life is unfair.
"You cook much dear?" Helen asks.
"Oh...a little." Callie replies while Addison subconsciously warns her to shake her head no.
"Well maybe we could come have Christmas at your place then. Addison is due around then and we can't very well expect her to make dinner twice in one year especially not with a new baby no matter how much she says she doesn't mind." A very distinctive glare shot towards Addison makes Callie wiggle in her seat uncomfortably. "See in our family we usually rotate cooks and all meet at the house just the same but now that Derek and Addie are on the other side of the world I guess tradition will have to change a little."
"Uh...sure, no yeah. That would be nice. We'd love to have you over." Over where she's not sure. They can get to that little detail later after she hatches a plan to get out of cooking.
"Good then, that settles it." Helen looks around at her children triumphantly as Callie sinks a little lower in her spot.
"You wouldn't mind would you Addison?" Callie asks, eyes open wide, pleading for salvation.
"Darling the only reason Addison has invited us all here is to start her penance for what she did to my son and to my family. You have nothing to worry about, I'm sure it will be a lovely time. Perhaps your parents could join us."
Holy hell. Callie's mouth opens but she chokes on the words when Addison hastily excuses herself and Derek begins bitching out his entire family for treating his wife like a slave all day. Things go from bad to worse when the focus does actually shift off of Callie onto the many ways that Derek is wrong about his entire life (and about remarrying a woman who killed another man's child and screwed him over) and then the children are taken from their table without being allowed to finish and are ushered into the den to play games while Helen calls a family meeting. She subsequently, out of curiosity, drags Callie into the middle of it by asking her how she feels about adultery and abortion. All Callie can do is look around her new seat on the couch next to Mark and wonder what the hell just happened. These people are like a category five hurricane.
"Well would you ever cheat on Mark?" Kathleen interrupts from her position at the front of the room. As the appointed family shrink she is also the mediator though she is letting everyone get away with murder while Derek sits slack-jawed in the corner listening to Nancy recount the abortion that Addison went through a two years ago. No one knows how she found out and no one is asking. Derek's too hung up and flabbergasted anyway and he kind of looks like he wants to smash the coffee table over Mark's head if Callie is not mistaken.
Everyone is this room knew but him and it makes Callie smile. At least she isn't the fool today.
"No." She replies and honestly doesn't know. Once a application at a job asked, "If the conditions were ideal would everyone cheat?" She couldn't answer it then when it was about videos and petty cash and she can't answer it now about relationships.
"See. You've got a good woman finally Mark. One who knows and understands the sanctity of wedding vows unlike-"
"Stop it!" Derek demands. "Stop it. Shut up."
Mark braces himself for the temper tantrum he knows is coming. Oh how things get ugly when family comes around and he is without a doubt regretting coming here today. Here they go, "Derek man-"
"I don't want to talk to you right now." Derek snaps.
Mark nods and fixes his gaze on the carpet. It's all falling down again. He's on instant replay watching his best friend's blood curdle and the relationship rots right in front of his eyes. He tries instead to block out all the voices and find patterns on the floor beneath him and it's not until Madolyn jabs him in the ribs that he notices the person that was next to him is now inexplicably missing. He excuses himself from the fight and brushes past Addison who is watching fearfully from the stairs. "She up here?"
"Somewhere." She nods.
"I'm sorry-"
"Not your fault Mark. It's mine. Always mine. Go find her."
--
It takes two bedrooms and one spare bathroom before Mark finds Callie huddled up against the side of a white bathtub, a ball of wet tissue in her lap and the discarded floral container on the floor next to her. He contemplates leaving for far longer than he should and then steps in and latches the door shut behind him before twisting the lock. He pulls the wads of mascara covered fiber from her legs and reaches for her hands to pull her upright. He's not thinking. He's simply doing, something that he thought he forgot how to do months ago.
Once standing she slumps into his chest trying not to cry again and he pushes them back toward the counter for leverage. "Callie. Breathe."
"They hate Addison. They hate me. Why don't they hate you?"
"They don't hate you. This is the way they are." He smooths a loose curl out of her eyes and for a split second they are just Mark and Callie. Unaffected, not tainted by life. It flashes by too quickly to grasp but not too soon to be felt.
"Why don't they hate you?"
"Because I was never expected to be anything good for Derek not like Addison was. Can we not talk about this right now? I don't want them to come searching for us." He takes a step back as she places both hands on the counter top behind her.
"They're busy." She counters trying to gain her confidence back. It's been awhile since she's had a breakdown, where an event has sent her running for cover and the relapse is not welcome.
"Maybe we should make a run for it then." He looks toward the drapes for a second and shocks himself by realizing he isn't kidding. Jumping out of that second story window into whatever bush that is below isn't a half bad idea right now.
"I'm not going back out there. Not with them so...you can go if you want to." Callie insists, her footing starting to solidify with her back to mirror and tear streaks still present on her splotchy cheeks.
"They aren't that bad Cal. They just take awhile to warm up to new people." Mark shrugs as her fury builds.
"Were you paying attention at all or were you too busy counting the threads in the carpet to hear what was going on around you?"
"I heard them. Derek was being a girl and Nancy was being a man and it's really the same every single time with them. You've seen one Shepherd explosion, you've seen them all."
"He threw us under the fucking bus Mark!"
"What?"
"Derek! Threw. Us. Under. The. Bus." Callie reiterates slowly. "You weren't paying attention, were you?"
He steps back carefully. He's not going to ever slap her again and he isn't going to allow her to incite that kind of riot from him. "I guess not."
"He told you to shut up and then he pointed the finger at us. The last thirty minutes I've been answering questions about our son and why he isn't alive anymore while your asshole of a best friend sat around with a smirk on his face and Addison watched from twenty feet away. I thought...I didn't. Ugh!" Her hands reach wildly into the air trying to thrash something while she reaches the height of her frustration. "I didn't come here to be interrogated. I didn't come here to have people look at me like that!"
"I didn't ask you to come. Don't blame it on me!"
"I wasn't." Her voice softens and the tears prick the corners of her dark eyes once again. This day has not gone to plan at all, "If you wouldn't have- Why did we have to pretend?" She stops herself and stretches her neck out. She knows why they had to pretend. Same reason they do everyday.
To make the people around them more comfortable. It's now well past acceptable to mope and complain and cry in public. Those days are long gone and they aren't coming back even though the pain they both feel is just as blinding as it was in June.
The knock on the door several minutes later serves as a hand to the face and when they pull back the door they find Addison with her hands across her widening stomach and a somber look on her face. "What?" Mark growls watching her shirk away at his tone.
"Were you guys- Never mind."
"Were we what?" Callie asks brushing the dried moisture off her face.
"I was going to tell you if you had to have sex in my bathroom to at least clean up after yourselves but now I see that's an unfair assessment of the situation at hand."
"You think?" Callie replies.
"God I'm sorry. Sorry for everything." Her red tresses fall into her face when she looks down and mutters to herself that it's not the time to be funny to which both Mark and Callie agree but the random statement has evidently broken the spell on the pristine room. "If you want to sneak out the back door and never talk to us again I'd understand. I didn't think that they'd be like this."
"Please. You knew." Mark counters angrily.
"So did you." Callie interjects with equal venom. She's finally the victim, at last and it feels so, so good.
"Well if it's any consolation to your horrible holiday I think Mom is plotting all the ways I could conveniently die in childbirth."
"She's not that bad." Mark rolls his eyes. They're vicious and unforgiving at times but they are, as it would happen, his only sort of family. Once upon a time, when he didn't know any better, he wanted to be like them. To have a happy, huge, crazy ass family who at the end of the day drove each other insane out of love. Through the years he just decided it wasn't in the cards for him. Not until Callie. Not until Darren and now he just thinks he was right all along. Not every person gets the happy ending and he's not one to deserve it.
"Yeah, I know. I'll just go." She looks around awkwardly and then disappears again.
"That was weird." Callie snorts beginning to let the effects of the day wear on her mental standing.
"That was Addison." Mark corrects and then grimaces when her laughter dies. He doesn't even like that he knows her that well anymore and Callie has certainly never appreciated that aspect of his history even if she does put up with it.
Ten minutes turn into twenty which tick into forty and then Callie is actually in the bathtub this time staring up at the ceiling. Mark slumps down beside her and breathes heavily. "Think they are gone yet?"
"Why haven't you called me back?" Callie chances. They've only ever been known to fool the people around them, not themselves and she'd like a real answer here, even if she is fully clothed and sitting in a bathtub that costs more than her car.
"I...Callie- I've been busy."
"Ok." She pauses briefly and then decides to dive in head first, "Except you weren't and I know you weren't and I think I deserve an honest answer to at least one question."
He shifts against the tub, popping his back by twisting from side to side, attempting to buy time. Dr. Wyatt told him to be honest, told him to let out his feelings so that the real healing could begin. "I didn't want to."
"Oh."
"I didn't want to talk to you and you don't get to be angry at me for that." Mark sighs, "I feel like...I feel like you don't really care. You care because I care and if I could stop caring I'm not sure you'd notice one way or another...if that makes sense." He scoots away from her, needing the space and wanting to see her face.
"I care."
"You have a funny fucking way of showing it. Slicing your wrists, slapping me, asking me to hit you, painting our lives black, kicking me out of my own apartment- the one I paid rent for without asking me if I would like any of my things. You don't care Callie. You wish you did. You wish you could maybe, I don't know."
"I didn't cut myself-" He steps in but she continues determined to get it all of her chest, "I thought about it, okay? I did. I think everyone does from time to time or maybe I'm a freak or something but I didn't do this on purpose." She raises her arm and pulls down the coppery colored sleeve of her sweater. "And I do care...about you and I've been a shitty person lately. To everyone. I see that. I do get it."
"Ok." He nods slightly, watching her begin to tremble and grapple with the rippling effects of her speech. It's raw and he thinks maybe she wasn't ready but he's not backing out now. He's been waiting and waiting and more recently thinking she was never going to crack.
"I don't know what to do anymore." She eeks, "I don't know...what...how." She gasps, choking a little and then stops herself just letting the tears come down instead. This is the end of the road. She's tried it all and if he doesn't want her after this then, well she may as well move states and spend her entire life running like a coward. "I miss him." She sobs, "I miss him. I miss you. I miss...I just miss it." By the time she reaches the end of the incessant babbling Mark has somehow wedged himself behind her and has his arms wrapped around her waist rocking them both back and forth slowly.
"I miss him too." Mark whispers in her ear, starting a whole new slew of tears. He lightly kisses her neck after sweeping the black curls out of the way and finds that she still tastes very much the same. Surprisingly sweet and light. She may not look the same, act the same or sound the same most of the time but she does taste the same so he lets his lips dance up a little higher toward her ear and then a little lower to her shoulder. Physical healing (or avoidance in the form of sex) is all Mark knows how to do. By the time he has had his fill her breathing is steady and her voice is moaning in a very throaty tone that he used to know so well.
"Sorry." He says softly and then leans back against the cool tub. "I didn't mean...you can keep talking if you want. I'm listening."
Her response does lead to the inappropriate sex in their friend's bathroom as Addison called for nearly two hours ago in a fit of unnecessary outbursts and by the time they leave to go his hotel (ignoring everyone as they grabbed their belongings off of coat racks and counters) the hand that is wrapped around hers isn't there out of any sort of obligation. It's there because Mark wants it to be; because that's where it should have been throughout this whole turbulent flight.
--
"You could just try it." Mark sighs exhausted and slumping onto the bed shirtless and more than ready for sleep after his long day. To say that the last two weeks hadn't been stressful for both parties involved would be a flat out lie. Callie has shut down again but intermittently has moments where she is capable of sharing which lends most of their talking time to Mark trying to convince her that therapy isn't going to ruin her soul and that Dr. Wyatt isn't going to judge her in any manner.
"And if I don't like it?" She caves. She could go to appease him and to stop this conversation and then not speak. It's a compromise of sorts.
"Then we can find someone you do like."
"I don't want therapy Mark." She pulls her shirt overhead and begins unfastening the front clasp on her bra while her eyes search through the hamper for a semi-clean tank top to wear. She reset too many bones and took someone's leg at the knee today. She's cranky and in need of support not arguing.
"It will help. Don't you want help?" He doesn't understand. If he could stop the pain then he would. He would take (and is taking) every step necessary to make sure he never feels this way again.
But Callie likes the pain. She needs the reminder to keep from forgetting and the last thing she wants to do is forget about Darren no matter how much she regrets becoming a mother. It's the process she loathed not the actual baby. "It takes time Mark."
"It's been six months Callie." He grabs his book off the end table next to him and flips to the page that's dogeared.
"You think I don't know that?" She snaps and immediately wishes she could take it back. It's so much effort to fight with him and she just can't. She doesn't have it in her to watch him walk away one more time so she'll take the ice treading and tentative mis-steps here and there in place of never having to watch him shut another door in her face.
"No...I just never mind. Let's not talk about it. Come here." She genuinely he opens up his arm for her to curl into his chest and this discussion ends the way most others do.
With an agreement not to talk about things. Because talking leads to discussions, discussions to yelling and yelling feels like ten steps in reverse not forward to Mark. It's better to stand still in time than go back right now.
--
"Theadora Ellery Shepherd." Derek grins presenting the infant to Mark. They all gave up on the fight when Addison showed up at the hotel deeply apologetic and extremely over emotional. The result was Derek having to come rescue them and some tears that he'd rather not think about ever again. It's over and done.
He takes the newborn, in her pink blanket and striped hat carefully and stares back down at the eyes that are so Addison it stings. It's hard not to think that this Thea thing could have been his and that the groggy redhead in the bed next to him could have been his girlfriend two years ago. He could be in New York with a family. Now he's in Seattle and jealous on more than one level.
"Who picked the name?" Mark questions and all his friend can do is smile and wiggle his head toward Addison.
"It's a strong name." She argues.
"Uh huh." He nods and thanks Callie silently for wanting something more traditional than an oddball name that reminds him of presidents past and celery.
Mark touches a soft patch of dark brown hair sticking out from under the hat before offering her to Callie who, with a deep breath, then declines and opts to grab a seat next to Addison. "I'm sorry if I ever told you you were close and then you still had to push for an hour." She grins.
"You know, I don't think you did." Callie smiles, trying not to remember the way she was stuck in a room a few doors down with one very loud infant and one annoyingly proud boyfriend. She pauses and looks over at Derek who is practically glowing. The new dad look. She gave it to Mark and the world unjustly snatched it right back.
"Good. I'm a good doctor then." She stares pointedly at Dr. Paulick as he backs out of the room with her chart. "That man is a monster."
"He was doing his job honey." Derek interposes.
"I think I know what his job is and shut up we aren't talking still." She nods toward Callie. Between her friend moving back in with Mark and her early maternity leave that involved more than enough History Channel reruns she hasn't seen much of Callie. Which is probably for the best. "He fought with me on the drugs."
"It would have slowed things down even more-"
"But I wouldn't have felt anything so I wouldn't have cared!"
Callie watches as Derek surrenders the sleeping infant back to her mother, in an effort to stop the faux fight, and tries not to make any comparisons. Twenty minutes later she leaves Mark to check on his patients assuring him she is just fine, thank you and nearly sprints out the doors of Seattle Grace Hospital. She never knew she could be so conflicted over a small life that had nothing to do with her problems. Her feet slap the sidewalks and sprint through rows but by the time she reaches the end all she can do is collapse in a pile and replay the entire day her son was born. From Mark's absence to the first cries and his stupid green blanket, it's all there and it's all been stolen so she sits, in a parking lot, beneath the shade of a red SUV's mirror and prays against all odds that no one will find her before she is able to stand and jog the rest of the way home.
She needs time and no one wants to give her any because she's gone and shoved them all away in an attempt to convince the world she was fine. Callie is anything but fine.
--
Addison's jump off the train will be aided by watching her own baby sleep; by knowing that with each passing moment her daughter is still breathing and that she isn't a horrible mother. She take the dive in four months. Miranda will wave goodbye to the crowds when she finds Mark bringing Callie lunch in an on call room in a few weeks after a random breakdown in the clinic. She'll step back from her protective role and let them breathe on their own for awhile before she gets roped back into a less than desirable situation involving a blood draw and cold exam tables. Alex won't leap until after he manages to save an infant brought into the ER after a brutal car crash. The second he hands over the squirming bundle to his still bruised parents so that he can return home to finish his recovery the slate will be wiped clean. He won't notice. Alex Karev never thought he was on a train. He doesn't believe they exist.
Callie will still be pacing the aisles at the one year anniversary. She'll still be lounging in the chairs at the two year mark but she'll get more comfortable there, in her seat, and part of her will never want to take the chance of getting hurt in the fall. Mark, conversely, will be a person that tries to jump too early and he'll get pulled back by Callie's unrelenting hand because for every step in the right direction Mark has taken, there's been one taken to the left that represents Mark and Callie as a couple. It won't stop him from thinking he is ready though and it won't dissuade him from yelling at her when she yanks on his wrist too hard.
Sometimes what's worse then having no one hold your hand in the beginning is having someone who won't let go in the end.
--
Joke? Yes.
How do you mend a broken jack o' lantern?
With a pumpkin patch.
:)