Author's Note:

("Signal Fire"- Snow Patrol)

Those pesky little things called 'life' and 'school' have gotten in the way of writing, so that's why this update is short- sorry. : / I'll try and get the next one up sooner and it should be longer. Thank you all for keeping with me thus far. : )

I'm writing this at an ungodly hour, so please forgive me if grammar and spelling is a little hokey : )

………………………….

As surgeons, we never run from things. That in itself is a ridiculous notion- there's nowhere to run to. We must face and stare down the maliciously grinning face of death, scalpel in hand, ready to do battle whatever the cost.

Only…

This morning, I run. I'm a coward, and to think that the word applies to me leaves a bitter tang in my mouth. I know Callie and I need to talk- my heart demands it- but this time, I don't listen. My cold and calculating mind is in charge now, and it commands that I get to the hospital so I can go back to the familiar world of ventricles, atria and the OR.

I quietly get ready for work, almost sneaking around the house. When I get my purse, I glance over at the bed. I see Callie and she's watching me with accusing eyes. My mouth is suddenly quite dry and I hold my purse in both hands like it's a shield, protecting me from those dark chocolate pools of emotion. I clear my throat and fidget. Erica Hahn. Fidgeting. Callie doesn't remark on it. She just watches me then finally gives her head a little shake and curls into the sheets. She pointedly faces away from me and that bitter taste arises in my mouth again. I glance around the room uncomfortably, torn between leaving or staying and saying something. But…I'm a coward. I go with the earlier and turn on my heel, leaving the room. It won't be my last regret through the day.

………………………….

She's exhausted- it's written in the way she massages her shoulder and rolls her neck to disperse the kinks from holding a drill and working with bones for the entire day. We've both been booked solid, and in the past I'd be more than a little crazy at the end of the day with not seeing Callie's grin. Of course, today is no different in that regard and I know I need to at least hear her voice…even if it is raised in anger.

I make the last few notes for a heparin dosage for one of my patients and glance up. She's leaving the schedule board, yawning into her hand and en route to a nearby lounge for coffee. I quickly hand the chart to the nurse behind the station and catch up with her. I close the door with a note of finality and cross my arms when she looks back to see who it was. Immediately she sighs and finishes pouring her cup, shaking her head tiredly.

"I'm not doing this right now, Erica."

"Cal I know I should have stayed this morning but-"

She whirls towards me.

"You goddamn right you should have stayed!"

"What did you want me to do?! My mother just died and-"

"Don't use that as an excuse!" She growls, her brown eyes flashing. I can't find anything else to say- my planned speeches are fading away like sand through but I guess it's just as well. The door opens. Mark and Broussard walk in, cutting off in mid-sentence when they sense the tension in the room. Callie takes the opportunity and stalks out of the lounge. Mark raises an eyebrow at me and follows her out, leaving myself and the cause of this entire mess shuffling his feet.

"Erica-"

"No!" I cut him off, rounding on him. He actually flinches and takes a step back.

"Do not call me that. You've lost that privilege," I say, my voice going down to a freezing octave. He chews his lip and shuffles his feet again.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," he sighs, his French lilt thickening a little. He looks as if he's about to say more, but shakes his head and leaves as well. I'm not sure how long I stand there, willing that burn in my eyes to dissipate. I knuckle my tears away and straighten my back. My heart is hurting, but my mind coldly insists that it's time to get back to work.

………………………….

After a ten hour surgery, I know I should go home and sleep. But I know just as well that I can't. I refuse to sleep on the couch- I've tried to talk and extended the olive branch so many goddamn times and it's an exercise in futility. So I moodily hole up into an on-call room and stare at my phone, willing the familiar blue glow to cut through the darkness. It doesn't, and I resign myself to no sleep. Apparently my body has other ideas, for Bailey comes rushing in. She's the only one who would dare wake Erica Hahn on purpose.

"Dr. Hahn, we've got an aortic dissection on our hands and-"

I don't hear anything after that. I go into motion, and my mind is on auto pilot, asking Bailey on the patient's condition. A dark shroud of fear is clamping around my heart and I feel like I can't breathe. Memories of when I had to crack open Callie are attacking my brain and it takes the authoritative bass of Richard's voice to cut through my thoughts. I stutter some response and he looks at me askance but I don't explain. The Scientist has taken over, and it is she that wheels the patient up to OR 3 for an emergency surgery. I take a moment before looking over at the scrub nurse and hold out my hand to begin.

"Scalpel."

………………………….

It's five in the morning when I finally drag myself home and stumble through the door. I carelessly drop my purse on the table near the door and toss my keys in the dish. I head up the stairs and open the door. Callie's still awake, and reading a book. She glances up, narrows her eyes at me then continues reading.

Okay.

That's it.

I walk over to where she is and nimbly pick the book from her hands.

"That is not cute. I was reading that-!"

"Shut up and listen," I say. Her mouth closes and she leans back, crossing her arms.

"I need to go to my mother's funeral. I need to. Not just to keep up appearances, but… look, I just need to," I continue. Her expression softens a little and her arms uncross. That's a good sign.

"And..." I shrug helplessly, a rueful smile finding its way onto my face. My vision blurs, and I hate myself for losing control of my emotions.

"I can't- I'm not strong enough….without you… So I need…" But I can't say anymore. The thick lump in my throat sees to that. She doesn't speak, doesn't even show that she knows I'm having a break down over here. Okay, so maybe this wasn't the best idea. Maybe I should just to back to the trusty on-call room on the third floor and-

"Erica…shut up," she sighs, leaning forward and kissing me. Her lips are soft- so soft and I could jump and laugh like a fool for how good, how right this feels. Her thumbs brush away my tears and we both lean back a little. We don't say sorry; both of us know how the other feels so there's no real need. I kiss her again, my hands cupping her face. God, I've missed this; as if in acknowledgment of that fact, my heart chortles and feels like a warm ember in my chest. It's a nice respite from it feeling like someone ran over it with a truck then backed up and ran over it once more for malice.

I hear Callie's slight moan and feel her hands deftly slipping under my jacket and blouse. My skin breaks out in goose bumps at her touch and an expectant shiver winds itself through me. She pushes me back onto the bed and straddles me comfortably. Her eyes are dark and sparkling and she sits up and, painfully slow, pulls up her shirt. She tosses it over her shoulder and I lean forward, fully in the intention to capture her lips again.

Apparently, once again, my body has other plans. My lower back suddenly yowls with pain and I hiss and groan, falling back onto the mattress with a defeated sigh. There's something incredibly iniquitous about surgeries that last almost as long as half a day.

Callie simply laughs and gives me one quick kiss before speaking.

"Rough day?"

"You have no idea."

Something in my tone sobers her and she nods, sitting back again the headboard and pulling me with her.

"Tell me about it."

And I do.

I tell her about the aortic dissection; how absolutely terrified I was back then; how I remembered in perfect clarity the shade of red that was blurred by tears. My voice begins to crack near the end, despite my best efforts. She kisses me and her arms tighten around me in a reassuring hug. I dimly realize I'm trembling but she doesn't say anything about it. Instead she tucks us both in and I lean into the comforting grasp of her arms. She kisses me once on the neck then snuggles contentedly against me. I can pick up the scent of her cherry-vanilla shampoo and I know that I've come home.

Officially.