Mark and Arizona sit side by side in the attending's lounge as they wait for Owen to receive an email that may or may not destroy their lives. Both stare at the TV, no longer taking in what is being said. They no longer want to know that the fighting has intensified or that the number of causalities has risen. All they want to know is that she is safe, and that will not be told to them by a news bulletin.
'Don't you have surgery?' Arizona asks breaking the deafening silence within the room.
'I pushed it back, if you think I'm leaving you alone Blondie, you can think again.' He responds as he others his trademark crooked grin to the woman sitting next to him.
'Thanks' Arizona says 'I don't think I could stand to be alone – no now anyway.'
And the room again, the room falls into silence as both surgeons care consumed by their own thoughts. Hours pass and the agitation within the room increases. By now Arizona is pacing up and down the lounge. 'How long can this take, I mean I know she's not going to be on that helicopter so could Owen's friend just send the fricken' email. Or maybe she is… no must think positive' she mutters to herself under her breath as whirls around and begins to march in the opposite direction. Arizona looks up and sees Mark smirking at her.
'Internal pep talk?' He asks to which Arizona begins to blush. 'She'll be fine you know, Owen's right. What are the chances of Callie being in a hot zone, she's not that badass.' Before either of them can continue with their conservation, Owen walks into the lounge.
'She wasn't on it' He states and Arizona throws herself into Owen's arms to which he only just manages to maintain his balance. 'But he's not sure where she is still, everything is a mess over there at the moment. So we will just have to wait and see.' Still in Owen's arms Christina walks in.
'So not you type Blondie, but I'm going to forgive you this time'. Christina says with a small smile. Christina joins Mark on the sofa as we settle in and continue to watch the new bulletin. And news is better than no news. Internally they are all kicking themselves that they didn't stop Callie from going, that they didn't check on her.
XXXX
Slowly the soldiers make the rendezvous point and everyone does a mental count of the people lost . From the radio contact, HQ advises the group that they are now behind enemy lines and so assistance will be offered until they get closer. 'Just friggin' awesome!' Callie mutters and then chastises herself for using Arizona's word.
'Doc, now's the time to pull that gun out of your pocket because we need all hands on deck' the Officer yells out to her pulling Callie out of her thoughts. Callie feels the blood drain from her face as a sense of dread settles over her. Callie was essentially told to prepare to possibly kill someone. Not something that a doctor usually experiences.
'It's kill or be killed know' Hawkins tells Callie as he sees the internal struggle written all over the surgeon's face. Gulping and pushing aside the misgivings, Callie draws the gun and remove the safety lock. Her mind is thrown back to Seattle - to think that she could be safe back there moping about her lack of girlfriend. Crying over her cereal, listening to Mark whine about how Lexie and Alex are all wrong for each other. Instead, she's holding a gun in her hand as she attempts to move out of enemy territory. Feeling the letter in her chest pocket, she settles down and focusses on the task at hand.
'Internal pep talk there Doc?' the Officer grins at Callie.
'Someone was a bad influence on me, just be glad I haven't broken out in Spanish yet' Callie replies as she throws her backpack on.
'Alright people let's move out, we are heading to the forward command centre which is 6 clicks to the north. Stay sharp.'
As the group moves out, everyone is on edge. Glancing around, waiting for the shots to ring out and mow then down from where they stand. The group splits into pairs as they move off, Callie placed with the Officer due to her lack of experience with a firearm. 'You know it'll be ok' he tells me. The number of stretchers in the group has dwindled to three as the time it has taken to get this far has caused a majority to bleed out. In all her years as a surgeon, Callie has never felt so useless. She's a doctor for god's sake – but she can do nothing to save these people.
As the hours slowly pass, the group moves at a snail's pace towards safety. Several times they had to back track kilometres as they stumbled across an enemy blockade. There was just to many of them to have an open attack and break through. Morale is non-existent as the group feels like they keeping hitting brick walls as they try and escape.
And then it happens… bullets wiz past their heads as they run across an enemy patrol. Something that the group had been had praying would be avoided. Callie is thrown against a wall for her own safety as they group again scatters down side streets and through buildings. The Officer grasps at Callie's hand as he moves towards the relative safety of a house. Bullets fly past their heads with fragments and splitters of glass and plaster fly around them. Yelling rings out as the soldiers attempt to find a position that they can defend while retreating backwards. Feeling a searing pain in her side, Callie grasps her right abdomen and her hand turns blood red. Silently laughing Callie wonders with all this protective gear how she still managed to get shot. Feeling lightheaded, she slumps against a wall as the Officer yells into his radio attempting to locate the rest of the group. Pulling some padding out of her backpack, Callie straps it to her injury that appears to just be a flesh wound. Getting back up, Callie follows the dwindling group as they creep through the shadows of the buildings. Regrouping in an abandoned building, the group counts the loses.
'Change of plans, we have to make a break on the roof tops. They know we are here and we will break through on the ground. The height advantage means they will pick us off like rats in a barrel. I've radioed HQ our position and they will help us from that side. Its only 2 clicks or so. We are essentially on top of the front line.' The Officer tells the group 'It'll be fast, we have once chance. We move out in 5.' Callie settles against the wall as she prepares herself for the battle ahead. Strangely, she finds herself calm. Callie had expected for herself to panic, but it's as if he mind knows that fight ahead will need all of her reserves of energy that she has.
Moving up the house stairs, the Officer cautiously checks the roof. Giving the all clear, the group follows him out and breaks into a brisk jog as they head north. The roof tops seem clear as far as the eye can see, but that doesn't stop them from hiding from view. The breath out of Callie's mouth comes in short pants and she attempts to push the throbbing pain in her side from her mind. Shots ring out and everyone drops. Seeing a shadow up ahead, Callie raises her gun and fires two quick blast causing the shadow to disappear from sight. Silence falls over the roof tops, as the group cautiously gets to their feet again.
'Behind you, behind you!' Shouts rings out as the group frantically looks behind them spotting four approaching the group from the roof top over. They rush towards the group preparing to make the jump onto the roof top the group was on. Callie, being the quickest to respond and the closet fires again watches as her shot hit one in the face and another in the leg. The remaining two are taken out by two clean shots from trained professionals.
'Good shot' Callie hears the Officer say as he lays a comforting hand on her shoulder. Callie mind is whirling, going a 100 miles a minutes which the images of her killing two people. 'Snap out of it Doc, we need to go.' Callie hears one of the remaining medics tell her as he drags her away. Breaking into a run again, Callie attempts to run away from not just the enemy, but herself.
Finally reaching the headquarters after the group ran into another platoon (literally), Callie does a head count. Eight soldiers made it out. Of the 28 soldiers and 12 injured, eight is all that survived their dash for freedom. None of the injured is among them. Callie feels her heart sink and tears begin to fall as she comprehends what has happened. All she can think of is the fact that she killed those people by getting her to help with the injured. Maybe if she hadn't, more of these people would have survived.
'You a doctor?' Callie hears someone ask as they kneel down next to her. They had her a bottle of water to which Callie greedily swallows as she washes the gritty feeling in her mouth. Callie mutely nods her head. 'You are needed' and he points in the direction of a large tent which is clearly being used as the triage centre for the injured. Callie wearily pulls herself up and she lets out a small groan of pain as her wound continues to weep blood. Entering the tent, injured lining the walls and lying on the floor. Medical personal with the distinctive red cross on their shoulder rush from one patient to the next, updating the tags that lie around their necks.
'There's a shortage of medical personal' Callie hears her guide tell her. 'Fighting broke out everywhere so no one's got anyone to spare.' Callie nod again, snags a set of latex gloves and starts checking on a patient. I quickly assess each victim and start to make order of this mess. The floor is slippery with blood as my clothes soon become wet with blood. But all Callie sees is black.