They all stood clad in black as the coffin slowly lowered six feet into the earth. The fog of yesterday's rain lingered with gray clouds hovering over the somber bunch, hugging their jackets closer about them as the winds blew. Sofia squirmed in her mother's arms ready to be free of the black tights she wore underneath her matching dress. She turned her head startled at a cry that had escaped her father, his face contorted in grief. It was new to her, before she had only known his goofy grin. No longer bothered by her tights, a frown began as she watched Derek embrace him, Meredith and Addison placing a loving hand upon his shoulder. With a pout she turned back to her mother hoping to be greeted by a reassuring smile only to find tears staining her mother's face as she watched the coffin lower to its final inch. She began a cry of her own unsure of what was happening around her in the unfamiliar setting. Callie shifted her upon her hip, pushing back her raven curls with shushes that weren't quite as reassuring as she hoped. Sofia's cry grew louder and she reached back for her father, her small arms waving wildly. He left Derek's embrace with a wipe of his nose, taking her into his arms and pressing a kiss unto her forehead. He cried harder though, hugging her tight as her cries continued.
"Let me take her, Mark," Cristina whispered, scooping the toddler into her arms.
He had no energy to fight her and so released his daughter into her care.
"We'll meet you back at the house," Owen said before offering a hug of his own and following Cristina away from their grieving friends.
Mark watched as Cristina lowered Sofia onto the damp grass, her hand firmly clasped to the toddler's small hand as her husband took the other. (It was her philosophy that her goddaughter, at two and a half years of age, was old enough to walk, though it was one she had since Sofia was around eight months old.) Sofia turned back, tears falling down her face, to glance back at her father who was at that moment being embraced by her mother. She still didn't understand what was happening but the sight of her parents hugging comforted her and she turned back with quieting cries, going with Cristina and Owen into one of the black rental cars that had brought them there.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Mark watched as the second hand of his father's old pocket watch went around, ticking away his life seconds at a time. It was only four days ago when he received the call and the days since went by in a blur. Callie had handled everything, arranging flights out of Seattle to New York, coordinating Sofia's care between her nanny and their friends until she was to fly out with Cristina and the rest. She made the calls to his relatives, most he had barely spoken too ever, and even picked out the coffin his father would be buried in.
He sat in his old bedroom on a bed he rarely spent time in between staying at the Shepherds' and anyone else that would have him when his parents were away. He tried to recall any memories worth remembering only to find that there were none. This had never really been his home. He was just he kid that intruded on the parents that never wanted him. It was strange to grieve for a man that barely had time for him.
Time.
It was becoming increasingly precious. It was passing him by quickly leaving nothing but unnecessary mistakes and regrets behind him. He had a whole host of reasons he could blame them on but it would do him no good. They would still remain, burdening his already heavy heart. Now he felt he was simply wasting it. He hadn't even noticed, but he supposed that they called death a wake up call for a reason.
"They all made it to the airport okay."
She stepped into the room with a light sigh, her hair swept up in a bun with stubborn curls falling free at her temples at neck. Her navy sweater fell loosely over her black corduroy pants. She was perfect, standing where the light hit her beautifully. His angel. She looked at him with a wistful smile, her hand traveling along the walls that had housed her best friend as a child.
"Sofia should sleep the whole plane ride and Addison said she'll call." She crossed her arms as a chill passed. "Hopefully we can get her to come back to Seattle for the holidays."
"You mean for a happier occasion?" Mark said dryly, closing the pocket watch and stuffing it unto his jeans pocket.
"Yeah," she answered honestly, her eyes looking over the nearly boxed up room.
It had been two years since she called off relationships of any romantic kind. Her heart scarred badly from the last battle. She delve deep into her career, finally awarded for her research in cartilage and winning a huge grant for the hospital. If she wasn't at work, she was with Sofia busying herself with chasing around the hyper toddler. He had given up even sooner, around the time their child was born, maybe a little before. He dove right in, taking even himself by surprise. It was just the three of them in their own little world completely unaware of all they were missing out on. And now they were here, his awareness of time growing.
She walked over to him, reaching out her hand. He took it, entwining their fingers for a moment before kissing her palm and letting it settle in his.
"It was nice hearing you guys talking about your childhood and your wild college years. I liked picturing you as a boy," He smiled, one that disappeared as quickly as it came. "I would have loved to have been apart of the three musketeers club. It sounded nice."
"It had its moments."
Her free hand found its way to the top of Mark's head, her fingers weaving slowly through his graying hair. His eyes closed at her touch, his exhaustion passing through her. Yesterday she had watched as they lowered his father into the ground and a mere second of picturing her father in his place had gutted her. She could only imagine how he was feeling, made worse by the lack of a real relationship between them. She nearly jumped when she felt his arms wrap around her having been lost in thought. He pulled her closer, inhaling her scent before burying his face into her sweater, pressing against her stomach. His shoulders shook as sobs rocked him. Her arms wrapped around his head in an effort to soothe him, her heart breaking for him.
"He didn't know me, Cal. He didn't know me." His grip on her grew tighter.
They stayed that way a long moment, him clinging to her as if she were a life line. She welcomed it unsure of any other way to comfort him. She whispered consoling words, her mouth pressed into the top of his head while stroking his back. The words were muffled but he knew every word she spoke and that soothed him. He released his hold on her, dropping his head.
"It's gonna be different with me and Sofia," he spoke as if pleading. "I'm gonna know everything about her. She's gonna know that I loved her." She stroked his face, a thumb wiping away a tear before lifting his chin so that he looked up at her.
"You do know her, Mark. She already knows you love her."
His lips spread into a slight smile. He nodded, his blue eyes sparkling up at Callie like they always did, like she was his saving grace. He watched as she swallowed, her arms dropping to her sides. She did that now, whenever they got too close.
"I'm going to take a box downstairs. Can you grab that one?"
He simply nodded, glancing at the box in question and watched as she lifted a box and made her way out into the hall. As she disappeared he could hear the ticking of the pocket watch. It was taunting him with each tick as if calling him a coward.
His parent's house was nearly empty, save the dining table and plush sofa that sat on an old oriental rug. They stood in the living room, looking over the impressive entertainment center that held an antique record player lined with what had to be a thousand record albums. He had kept putting off packing up the entertainment center and Callie didn't question it, figuring it must have had some significance to him. He stared at as if readying himself for some kind of internal war.
"They loved music," he spoke, breaking the silence.
"I see that."
He turned to her, his hands in his pockets, his heart in his throat.
"Shall we play something?"
She gave a simple smile. He nodded before stepping to the entertainment center, his fingers lightly running over the well kept cardboard that protected them. His eyes scanned over the artists before landing on one that interested him and pulling it free. He placed the needle gently onto the record, static popping through the speakers before the smooth melody began to play Al Green's 'For the Good Times'.
Don't look so sad / I know it's over
But life goes on / and this world keeps on turning
Let's be glad we have this time to spend together
He let the words of the song float over him, his eyes closing before turning back to look at Callie. His breath caught at the sight of her chocolate eyes tearing. She was beautiful and it always amazed him at the way she possessed so much empathy. The way she felt everything so deeply even if it was the pain of another.
"When I was a kid, I would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of music just wafting through the house," he began, approaching her. "I would climb out of bed and tip toe down a few steps before I'd sit on the stairs and peer through the banister."
He took Callie's hands, placing one on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist and held the other in his hand. They moved slowly, dancing as the song continued.
"I'd find them like this, my dad holding my mother real close. And they'd move real slow, gazing deeply into each other's eyes."
Callie tried to look anywhere from his eyes, her nerves on edge. But Mark continued to look at her, beckoning her eyes to finally look up at him.
"They loved each other. They may not have wanted me, but I could see that they loved each other."
"Mark -"
"I remember I would sit there and be somehow comforted. They were beautiful together and he worshipped her. I've been chasing after that my entire life."
She could feel in her bones where he was headed. She couldn't deny the last couple of years the building affections that past between them. She had however been able to ignore them, tucking them down deep and moving along as if everything were normal. But she'd catch his gaze, a gaze that even a blind mind could see exposed every thought. Sometimes it excited her to be looked at that way, to be wanted, but mostly it only made her scared. Sofia was only six months old when all hell broke loose and she swore that she was done. Yet still they remained bonded, spending nearly all their free time together, being parents, being mistaken as a couple every time they'd go out. And it was all good, until he'd look at her like that.
"The thing is," he continued, feeling as she tensed up, "I'm pretty sure I've found it."
She tried to back away but he held her tighter, tired of letting her go. His resolve resolute.
"I think I found it years ago, Callie. But I've been a coward and I can't afford to be one anymore."
His hand was firm on her back as they continue to sway to the soft music in the background. He felt her heartbeat against his chest, his eyes intensely on hers. He didn't have to spell it out. She knew.
"Tell me you don't feel it too."
She couldn't, unless she was willing to lie but she didn't feel the need to taint something that had always been pure.
"I think," she started, "that you buried your father yesterday and that you are understandably grieving."
"Don't do that. This isn't about him."
"Yes it is."
"Only in that it's made me realize how much time I've wasted."
She sighed, finally free herself from him.
"I don't want to do this with you."
She stepped away going over by the sofa that had folded up boxes leaning against it. Picking up the tape gun that sat on the cushion, she began to unfold the box and tape up the bottom. He watched her, an ache growing inside him. He had always allowed her to call the shots but that had left them both nowhere but miserable. He was done being miserable.
"When my mom died, my dad would sit right there on the edge of the sofa doing nothing but listen to his record albums and drink himself to death. But I can't even blame him, because he's had his great love. He lost it, but at least he had it."
She carried the box to the entertainment center and began to place the records inside it. She wanted to rewind to earlier in the day, when Derek had offered to stay and help Mark with packing up the rest of the house. She regretted her habit of finishing what she started. She could be back in Seattle right now, reading Sofia a bedtime story and drinking a glass of wine. Instead she was here, being asked to rip her heart open. She wondered if it was wrong to curse the dead because she was silently cursing his father for dying and sending his son into some kind of mid life crisis.
"Do you remember," Mark asked, taking the records from her hands, dropping them into the box and holding her hands against his chest, "do you remember what you said to me when you were trying to get me to go out with Altman? That I was a good person worth getting to know?"
"I'm really tired. Can we please not do this?"
She was pleading and the look in her eyes almost made him crumble but it was now or never.
"Why was I never good enough for you?"
The question was unexpected and caught her off guard. Her mouth hung open, dry from surprise. She straightened, looking at Mark as if seeing him for the first time. How could he not know how much she adored him?
"What?"
"You'd go with anyone else before you'd go with me. Why was I never an option for you?"
Her mocha eyes glistened, her head shaking at his accusation.
"I think you're rewriting history, Mark. I don't remember picking anyone over you. For every relationship I've had you've had one too."
"Because I could never have you. I'd wait for you to see me but you never did. And now here we are and you still don't see me."
They were silent, the record beginning to play a new song. He kept ahold of her hands folded unto his chest, his eyes imploring hers.
"I see you, Mark. I see you," her hands slipped from his, her eyes casting down. "But I can't."
She might as well have shot him. His eyes stung with bitter tears as he watched her turn from him. She stood still a moment unable to decide what else to say or do before simply returning to the chore of boxing up old record albums. That couldn't have been it. Three words? His mind flashed back to their first meeting, two outcasts uniting. She had been hurt earlier that day as had he. That night it had all been forgotten and then the morning came. That was basically their relationship in a nutshell. Two people who were able to shut out the evils of the world when they were together only to be smacked with it when they were apart. He felt the beat of his heart increase as well as the rise and fall of his chest, a small smile forming on his lips.
"You're afraid." He stated it simply and so softly that she hadn't heard him. His smile grew wider as he cleared his throat. "You're afraid."
She looked up at him from her crutched position beside the cardboard box on the floor.
"You don't trust your history."
Callie gave up trying to arrange the records, standing to his eye level. She gazed at him with a shrug of her shoulders.
"It kinda speaks for itself."
"I don't care about your history."
"I do.''
He walked over to her slowly. She was still as he did, his hand reaching out to cradle her face. She faltered then, her eyes finally allowing tears to fall.
"I-" she shook her head, "I can't fall in love again. This might sound dramatic, but losing you would kill me."
"You wouldn't lose me, Cal."
"You don't know that."
He brought his other hand to her face so that it was cradled in his palms, his own face mere inches from hers. His thumbs wiped away the salty tears, his own fear of loving her beat out by his fear of not having her.
"Don't fall then. This time jump. I've always caught you before, haven't I?"
She smiled then, unable to deny that. Not that she ever understood it. But she had come to depend on it, everyone else failing to keep her heart safe. Yet he was always there, catching her, making her laugh and giving her a daughter she'd always dreamed about.
"Jump and I swear it'll be for the last time. We've been doing nothing but wasting time, running around scared of the realest thing we've both ever known. There's a reason we always come back to each other, Callie. We're perfect for each other. So this time don't fall. Jump and I'll catch you."
Her hands went up to cover his, her eyes closing before removing his hand from her face and jumping into his embrace. His arms wrapped tight around her, pressing a kiss onto her temple.
"I love you, Cal."
"I love you too, Mark. I love you too."