Disclaimer: Not mine...
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter! I really love to hear your feedback, it makes my day. (:

The Scars to Prove It
Chapter 11 : Tell Me

Mark nods, gently shaking the blond surgeon until she starts to wake up. She lets out a yawn, and briefly wonders where she is and what she's doing there, until the memories come back and hit her head-on.

"What did you find out?" Mark asks, his voice hoarse.

"Well, she... She's nearly out of surgery," Cristina says, and it's then that he realizes just how long ago she left. "They managed to fix the punctured lung. They're going to have her hooked up to oxygen and a heart monitor... She had a few cracked ribs and a concussion. The knife had been moved a few times, so the wound was bigger than it should have been. Derek said we won't know if she has any brain injuries until she wakes up..."

"Can't they get a scan of her brain?"

"They will, and he thinks she'll be fine, but it will be easier to tell once she wakes up. Not everything shows up in the scans, Mark, you know that."

Arizona runs a hand through her hair. "And how long will that be, Cristina?"

The younger doctor bites her lip for a brief second. "There's no way to tell."

----

Jose grabs her roughly by the shoulder and turns her around. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he demands gruffly. She chances a glance out the window, feeling the defeat settle over her as her mother's car leaves the driveway and disappears around the corner.

"Nowhere," she whispers quietly. She wishes she had the guts to fight back. She wishes she had the nerve to tear away from him. She's fourteen years old. This has been going on long enough. She's had time to work up the bravery to confront him. Why can't she just do it?

"That's what I thought."

The back of his hand collides with her cheek, and the first thing that crosses her mind is, 'how am I going to explain the red mark this time?' Then his fist sinks into her stomach and all she can think about is getting air in her lungs. She falls to her knees and bites back all sounds of pain. She may not be strong enough to end this, but she won't let herself be so weak as to let him know how much he hurts her.

His knee lands beside her shoulder and his hand comes to rest gently on her stomach. She swallows and lets her eyes close tightly. She knows exactly what will be coming next. The house is silent. They're the only ones here. This is what always comes next.

It's only a matter of time, she reminds herself. He'll do it, then it'll be over. She just has to wait it out, and she can do that.

----

Cristina shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "Once they have her all set up in her room, you should be able to go see her."

"Do you know what room she'll be in?" Mark asks hopefully. He can feel Arizona shaking beside him and it makes his heart break that much more.

"I'll take you there," Cristina offers. She pauses for a moment, looking briefly unsure, then starts to walk. Mark and Arizona follow her closely, Arizona once again wrapped under Mark's arm. By this point the contact is for his own comfort, not just her's, but she isn't complaining. Cristina stops for a short second, almost as if she's unsure about whether she wants to continue, but then she starts again. He's about to tell her just to give them the room number, because they know this hospital just as well as she does and would know exactly where it was, but then he realizes that she must want to see Callie, too. But Cristina isn't known for her caring nature or awesome social skills; she needs some sort of excuse.

They reach the room as the nurses finish up. Arizona rushes in almost as soon as the nurses allow them to enter, taking only a short, short moment to prepare herself for what lies beyond the doorway. Cristina steps into the room, looking professional as always, and checks Callie's chart. Mark would think that she was just there on official business, to do her job, if it weren't for the way she awkwardly puts a hand on the edge of the bed and whispers something. He can't make out her words, and he doubts Arizona can - if she was even paying attention - but that's okay. They weren't meant for him to hear, anyway. They were meant for Callie.

Then Cristina walks out, barely brushing against him as she goes, and Mark can almost swear that there is pain and sadness in her eyes. But then again, there is pain and sadness in his eyes, too, and Arizona's. There was even sadness in one of those nurse's eyes.

Mark remains in the doorway, silently watching the scene in front of him. Arizona is holding Callie's hand in her own, tears streaming down her face. He can't tell if her eyes are open or not, if she's looking at Callie or not, but he would understand either way. He hasn't gathered up the strength to look at Callie yet, and honestly, he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to see her looking like a patient, like a victim. He doesn't want to see her hurt, attacked, beat. He doesn't want to see what that bastard, whoever it is, did to her.

But at the same time, he wants nothing more than to look at her. To see her lying there, breathing, sleeping, living. To see with his own two eyes that she hasn't left him yet.

Mark forces his gaze to move from Arizona to Callie. His heart skips a beat and the tears sprout back to his eyes as the image settles in his memory. Never has he seen Callie look so pale. Never has he seen her look so small, so fragile. The sheets are covering the wound and her ribs, and for that he is grateful; he doesn't want to know what that looks like. He doesn't think he could handle it. There are enough reminders of pain on the visible parts of her body.

He steps into the room and scoots a chair over to the bed on the opposite side of Arizona. He brushes a strand of hair out of Callie's face, holding back a small sob as it threatens to escape him. He can see where bruises are starting to form on her jaw, around her neck, and along her shoulder and it makes him wonder how many others she has. How many she has hidden beneath the blankets.

"It's gonna be alright," he whispers, more to himself than anyone else, but Arizona nods anyway.

He just can't tell if she believes it or if she's as unsure as he is.

----

She walks slowly into the hospital behind her dad. She doesn't want to be here, she doesn't want to hear what the doctor has to say. She wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to stop her shaking, but she knows it won't help any. Nothing can, not right now. Nothing except good, good news.

Brandon is too young for this. He shouldn't have to be going through this. No eight-year-old should have to be faced with death. It isn't right, it isn't fair, it isn't...

A young doctor walks up to meet them. Aria, Damien, and Callie's mother are already standing in the waiting room. Damien has his arms around a sobbing Aria, and when Carlos and Callie reach them, Carlos wraps his arm around his teary-eyed wife as well. Callie breathes deeply, standing behind the other four, trying to get a grip on herself. She can't break down, not now, because there's still the chance...

The doctor stops in front of them. He runs a hand through his light blond hair while gripping at his scrub cap with his other hand. He seems to be trying to compose himself, trying to find the words to say, but Callie's family has never been known for their patience. She almost feels bad for the poor man as he gets bombarded by questions.

"Is he okay?" Aria chokes out.

"When can we take him home?" Mrs. Torres asks.

"How bad is it?" Carlos demands.

"What room is he in?" Damien chimes in last.

But Callie can't get any words out. She stares at the surgeon's face and she already knows. She knows those eyes, that frown, that awkward shifting of weight, the way he's messing with his hair, the grip on his scrub cap, the way he can't find the right words... It can all mean only one thing. She swallows thickly because he hasn't said one word yet she knows the answer to every single question they just asked him.

All she needs is for him to confirm it. She feels like she's been waiting for years before he finally speaks up.

"We did everything we could..."

----

Arizona has finally cried herself to sleep again. Her head is now resting on the bed, her hand still firmly grasping Callie's. Mark knows she will be in for a whole lot of neck pain in the morning, but he can't bring himself to move her.

He wishes he could sleep. He wishes he could start to feel tired. But he doesn't think he would be able to fall asleep right now, no matter how hard he tried.

He breaks his gaze away from Callie. It doesn't look like she's going to be waking up any time soon; it's already nearly one in the morning and she hasn't even stirred. Not that he's seen, at least, and unless he dozed off once or twice without realizing it, he's been watching her the whole time.

He presses a kiss to her forehead as he gets up. He's been sitting for hours and he really just needs to stretch his legs. He wants to get away from all this, if only a for a few minutes.

When he leaves the room, his plan is to go get a cup of coffee. But instead his legs take him to the nurses' desk, and he finds a few of the nurses who helped with Callie. He talks to them for a few minutes before he finds out that nobody called her parents. He's surprised and pissed and even though he knows it's a tough part of the job, and that because they know Callie it's just that much harder, they still should have done it. And usually he would have Callie to calm him down. She would yell at him for screaming at the nurses like he does. She would smack him for being such an ass. But he doesn't have her to do that right now, and so he yells and screams and insults them until one gets so scared she looks like she's about to cry. They promise him they'll call her parents as Derek grabs him by the shoulders and forces him away.

"What the hell was that, Mark?" Derek demands, and Mark just finds himself getting madder when he sees Derek cross his arms. That is something Richard Webber would do. That is Webber's 'disciplining' arm cross.

Mark shakes his head and pushes his way past Derek. He vaguely hears Derek yelling something about "watching his act," or something, but honestly Mark is too angry to pay much attention. Derek doesn't get to judge him, to discipline him, to look down on him. Those nurses were the incompetent ones. They are the ones Derek should be disciplining. Not him.

He pulls out his cell phone and dials a familiar number. When nobody answers, he hits the coffee vending machine and tries again.

One thought keeps running through his head: Why did this have to happen? What did she do to deserve this?

Mark doesn't even think to give the old man walking by the small snack room a second glance.

"So tell me,
Tell me that I'm not all alone
And everything's alright"
"Tell Me" - Story of the Year