Hello, Readers!

As you are looking at this ... I am hiding under my bed. I want to preface this by saying that I have never written anything like this in my entire life and I can't decide if I'm mortified or a nervous wreck. I think it might be both. So many of you have sent me private messages asking for this and here it is. Kinky sex. I'm going to remain under the bed for a few days I think. So be gentle. :)

After spending most of our off day with Jasper, Erica and I return home and flop down on the sofa. Our cats come running and spring onto the sofa, forcing us to give them our full attention. As I pick Feo up and look at him, I finally have to admit the truth. His name is perfect for him. He is ugly. He's not just a little ugly. He's full blown scare a little kid, freak out an old lady, and make you wrinkle your nose ugly. He won't need a costume for Halloween. That's for sure. When I point this out to Erica she acts scandalized and reaches over to cover Feo's ears. "Leave him alone. He can hear you."

"They are ugly, but they're our uglies."

She shoots me a sidelong glance. "Our uglies are more fun. Especially when we bump them."

"Such sexy talk in front of the children."

"If these were our kids ... I'd be very, very upset."

"They can hear you. Remember?"

"What do you want to do today?"

"This. Play with our cats and hang around the house being lazy."

"It's nice that you set your goals so high."

"What did you have in mind?"

"The same thing. Which proves that I have become just like you. You're bad for me."

"And you love it."

"Basically."

Ruma stares Erica down, lying on her chest with his nose only inches from hers until she relents and gives both cats a little milk in a saucer. They thank her by weaving through her feet until she nearly falls and the milk goes flying. Because I laugh at her she gives me the wedgy to end all wedgies.

Which ... leads to sex.

Naturally.

I need to train the cats to do that more often, I think.

She's flipping through the channels on the television later when I say, "Did you open your briefcase yet? I wonder what Mark got you."

Erica makes a face. "You don't think he'd put a snake in there, do you?"

"I told him about the snake in Nebraska. There is NO WAY he would do that."

"You told him about that!?"

"I was channeling the spirit of the Croc Hunter in that trailer and you know it. I had to say something."

Hitting me with the pillow, she gets up and retrieves the briefcase. Ruma and Feo jump on the sofa and try to investigate, but I hold them back. "No, let them go," she tells me. "Maybe he put a rat in here and these little fuckers can earn their keep by killing it for me."

I watch her flip the clasp and open the case. It's really nice on the inside. There are pockets everywhere and all sorts of little gadgets and gizmos to make her life a little more organized. She picks up a long black box that has a red ribbon around it and says, "I think it's champagne."

"Could be."

She slips the ribbon off and opens one end of the box, spilling the contents into her hand.

My mouth drops open when the bright yellow dildo vibrates to life. It purrs louder than both of our cats combined.

Beside me, Erica shakes her head, turns it off and says, "I gotta hand it to him ... the man has a sense of humor."

I take it from her and it's heavy, gel filled, and thick. A card has been rubber banded to it and I pull it off, handing it to her. I try to picture Mark Sloan in a sex shop, but I can't. I'm sure that he ordered this ... neon dick ... online. It even has veins. Alien penis, for the win.

"Oh wow," Erica gasps suddenly, resting a hand against her chest. "Oh ... wow."

"Oh ... what?" I lean my head against her, looking at the card. It's got a naked man on the cover holding up a sign that says 'You know you miss it', but that's not what has her attention. There are two tickets inside and she is staring at them in shock. "Box seats, Callie. I tried like hell to get any seat. Just one."

I take the tickets and look down at them. "'Der Fliegende Holländer'. What is that?"

"'The Flying Dutchmen'. It's a German opera that I've wanted to see for years," she replies. "I was scrolling through my phone one day trying to buy tickets and Mark asked me what I was doing. How in the hell did he manage this?"

"Mark manages a lot of things, Erica. He just doesn't get a lot of credit for it."

Sighing, Erica's shoulders slump and she picks up her phone, sending a quick text. "It's time to eat crow and invite Mark over for dinner. I asked him to bring Addison and their dog. We'll put our plan into action while they're here. Deal?"

"Deal." I lean forward and kiss her, smiling when her hand goes to my breast. "You trying to tell me something?"

"Yep."

"Okay, you do realize that you're insatiable, right? One hour. One hour, Erica, that's how long it's been since we got naked and sweaty."

"You did tell me on the roof of the Archfield that you could fuck me every hour and it wouldn't be enough." She licks her lips in a way that nearly chokes me. Lust flares up in me like an inferno and I start to throb in all the right places when she adds, "And I haven't had enough, baby."

She makes quick work of my shirt, pulling it over my head and dropping it in the floor. When she eases the strap of my bra down and latches onto my shoulder, sucking and nipping, I groan her name. Just like that, I'm completely under her spell and at her mercy and she can do anything she wants to me when ... the phone rings. "Damn it," I whisper. "Let the machine get it."

Erica nods and moves to the other side of my neck as she unfastens my bra. It slides off my arms at the same moment that a gravely male voice fills our house. "Erica? It's me ... your ... your father. I wanted to leave you a message and say -"

Leaping to her feet, Erica rushes into the kitchen and grabs the phone before her dad can finish. I hear her replying to him and I can tell from her tone that she's not happy about their conversation. He's not coming. I don't need her to tell me that and as pissed as she probably is ... I'm about forty times more pissed on her behalf. I lift my bra and start to refasten it because I'm sure that sex will be the last thing on her mind when she comes back. I'm fumbling with the clasp when she returns and she arches a brow. "You turning me down, Lee? I thought we were just getting started."

What the fuck? Surely she's upset. "I - no - I just thought -"

"Don't think." With a bright smile, Erica picks up the dildo and studies it, then looks at me. "We have a while. You ... wanna play?"

"With that?" I shake my head. "It's huge."

"I haven't forgotten your little sin box up there, Callie. What do you say?"

Unbidden, the fight we had about the fact that I enjoyed having her on top of me so much flits through my head. I recall every word she said about not being able to compete with the men in my past. I don't need anything else, but looking at her face I think maybe she does. "What did your dad -"

"I don't want to talk about him." She closes her fingers around the yellow dildo and my eyes widen when I see that they barely reach around it. I've had sex with happily endowed men before, but this would be like ... being a virgin again. She stares down at the phallic toy, lost in thought. There's a line on her forehead and her lips are a hard line.

Reaching out, I touch her arm. "I think you need to talk about this."

"I need you."

Before I know what's happening, Erica has a death grip on my wrist and she is practically dragging me towards the bedroom. She pushes me down on the bed and tells me to wait there while she fishes around in the back of her underwear drawer. I start to stand up, to peek and see what she's rummaging around for, but she barks at me to sit down. I do what I'm told. I never do what I'm told, but I've also never been yanked along behind someone either. There's something different in her right now, something I've never seen before. It doesn't scare me, but it definitely intrigues me.

Erica tosses a black garment that I catch just a glimpse of on top of the dresser and starts peeling off her pants, then her underwear. She picks up whatever it was that she fished out of the drawer and turns her back to me. The alien penis is nowhere to be seen at this point and I'm really starting to wonder what's going on. Erica bends at the waist and I realize that she's sliding on something that looks like panties, but it can't be. And when she turns towards me, and asks me to zip her up, I swallow loud enough for her to hear my throat from across the room.

The dildo that Mark Sloan so graciously gave to my fiancé is now protruding from a harness like I've never seen before. I look up at Erica and expect her to be laughing, but she's not. There's something so dark in her blue eyes that it takes my breath away. And I let my gaze move over her body, taking in the shocking contrast of the black harness against her pale skin as I zip the two sides together. It doesn't look ridiculous. Quite the contrary, it looks hot as hell and when her hand goes to the dildo and she readjusts it slightly, my mouth drops open and a moan escapes the back of my throat.

"Mmm hmm," she says, smiling now. "Knew you liked it."

"I did. Past tense," I mutter, honestly afraid of pissing her off while she's got a flagpole strapped to herself. Does she not remember how she told me she couldn't compete with the penises in my past? What am I supposed to do here? And the size of that thing... I'm not ready for it, but there's a look of utter longing on her face that tells me she is ready. Maybe she even needs it. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but she takes my hand and brings it to the dildo, guiding it up and down the length. "Erica, I don't need -"

"I told you before that I'm not intimidated by anything you bring into the bed."

"I think it's safe to say that you are bringing this." I look up at her, stilling our hands on the toy. "Do you ... like ... doing this?"

Erica points to a button on the side of the panties that I didn't notice. "When you're ready ... hit that button for me and there's a spot right here," she guides my hand between her legs where I feel something hard, "that vibrates and every time I thrust ... I like it. I like the hell out of it."

"Daaaamn."

"Come here."

I let her pull me to my feet and kiss me. It's frenzied, frantic. It puts me on edge and makes me more than a little nervous. What she's doing right now? This is her forgetting that her father isn't coming. I know that. I feel the dildo on my stomach, hard and insistent, and something about the newness of it, the dirtiness of it, makes me want to help her forget. This is a new side of her and I want to see what happens next. I want her to take me there. I want to give in and let her be in control and I -- don't even recognize myself at this point. But I know I'll surrender. I always do with her.

I actively avoid thinking about who else may have benefited from her vibrating harness of debauchery and go with it. If I can wear a straightjacket in the bed, I think it's safe to say that this is not going to intimidate me.

Quite the contrary ... it arouses me.

It's an idiosyncratic experience to see her this way. Even if the dildo was flesh colored and matched her skin tone it would still be odd. Her breasts contradict the phallic protrusion and the leather whispers and creaks when she moves. It's sensory overload and she seems to realize that I'm torn between staying and running when she smiles at me and says, "I'll be gentle."

She's mocking me. I narrow my eyes and say, "Don't restrain yourself for my benefit, Yellow. I assure you I can take it."

I find myself flat against the mattress a second later and she buries her face between my legs without preamble. I don't think I realized exactly how turned on I was. Or maybe I'm in a constant state of arousal where she's concerned because every brush of her tongue has me begging her for more and when she slides her fingers into me, I buck upward, crying out her name. She gets me almost there ... I'm so close that I can taste it myself ... and then stands up. "Wha-"

She slaps my hand when I move it between my leg to finish what she started so I push myself up on my elbows to watch her. A small bottle of warming massage oil is pulled from her nightstand drawer and it's sinfully erotic when she covers the dildo, her pale hand pumping it slightly. When she moves that hand between my legs, smoothing oil over me and into me ... I can barely breathe. The heat is instantaneous and she has finger fucked me with the oil before but there's something about the anticipation of what's coming that sets me on edge.

"Slide up the bed," she whispers.

Once again, I obey like the well mannered child I never was and she follows on her knees. I watch the alien penis bounce up and down as she comes toward me and my mouth goes dry. She pushes my legs apart just a little further and rubs the tip of the dildo along my slit. I watch as she repeats it, rubbing a little harder. I'm so wet and ready when she moves it inside me that I push upward, taking more of it than I was anticipating. It stings. Did I mention that it's a little on the large side? She backs up and smiles at me, leaving only the tip inside. "You still think you can take it?"

"Try me."

It's like being a virgin again. She slams her hips forward and there's burning, pulling, and I cry out in shock, pain, and ... because it feels really fucking good. Buried to the hilt, she falls down over me, kissing me ravenously. Her tongue strokes against mine and then begins to move in time with her hips, which are grinding against me in a circle. She's gently making me accommodate her ... it ... hell, I don't know. What I do know is that I love having both of her hands in mine as she laces our fingers and moves them over my head. I love the feel of her breasts flattened against mine and her stomach rubbing against me. I wrap my legs around her, pushing my heels against her ass to make her move.

She doesn't disappoint.

The pain is forgotten as she begins to thrust, gently at first and then more insistently as I moan. Her fingers stay entwined with mine as she picks up the pace and the sounds that she makes are unlike any I've heard before. She likes it. She likes topping me, dominating me, possessing me this way. I don't know if the harness feels good or if I feel good, but listening to it makes me even wetter and I'm close to coming without any further stimulation when I remember the button on the harness. I free my hand and fumble for it, finally finding it. I press it once and hear a dim humming for a split second before her cries of pleasure drown it out.

A moment later, her hand brushes mine out of the way and she moves back a little. I feel the dildo twist inside me and then it vibrates to life as she slams into me again. My eyes roll, my toes curl, I bite her shoulder because it's the closest thing to me and she tugs at my hair, pulling my mouth to hers. It's furious now as her pelvis slaps against mine and I tighten my legs around her, lifting myself up to meet her halfway. I come first and she really should have kept holding my hands down because I rake my nails over her back without meaning to. I guess she likes it, though, because she yells in pain, in pleasure, in ... passion ... and I feel her nipples harden as she jerks against me.

Not for nothing ... keeping a vibrator inside you after you come can tickle. I attempt to slip it out of me, but she shakes her head, smiling evilly at me. "One more time."

"I want to be able to walk."

"You know ... I think you really are a bottom."

Renewed strength surges through me and I pull on my reserve to flip her. The dildo never slips from me as I sit astride her. It goes even deeper and I groan, rubbing my hands over my breasts. "Touch me."

Her thumb arrives on my clit just when I'm ready to die and I make her a bottom within minutes.

I don't think she minds.

And I know that I don't.

"So, Mark," Erica says, cutting into her baked chicken. "Tell me about your parents."

Addison's fork clatters to the table and she swiftly retrieves it. "This is really good, Erica. You'll have to give me the recipe."

"Mark doesn't talk about his parents," I say innocently, picking up my wine glass. "The most I ever got out of him is that they were 'non-entities'. Whatever that means."

Across the table, Mark's eyes narrow slightly as he regards me. "They are not a part of my life. That's what it means."

"That's sad." Erica takes a bite of broccoli, innocently waving her fork to punctuate her next words. "I mean, I've never even met my biological father and I can't think of anything I want more. And he keeps making excuses not to come."

That's more than she has said to me about her father. Any time I broach the topic, she changes the subject. "What did he say?" I ask. "When he called earlier?"

"He said that his grandchild is sick." Filling her wine glass for the second time, Erica shrugs. "Apparently I have a sister and I'm an aunt and he can't be bothered to come and see me."

"I'm sorry," Addison tells her, reaching across the table to pat her hand. "Some people are assholes. Maybe you're better off not knowing him."

"No," I interject. "She's not. Even if he's an asshole, he's her father and family matters."

"To you," Mark says, shoving a fork full of stuffing into his mouth. "Because you have Ward and June Cleaver for parents, Callie. You've got the perfect parents and you grew up in a normal, stable house. Of course family matters to you. To the rest of the world, though, it sucks."

Erica nudges me under the table and I take a deep breath, trying to make it sound as shaky as possible. Here goes nothing. Operation Fix Our Friends is officially under way. I'm going straight to hell for this. "My parents broke up a few times," I lie. "My dad was married to his job and my mother couldn't take it. I used to, uhm, take Jasper and hide in the bedroom with the television on full blast so he couldn't hear them screaming at each other. It was hardest on him. He was two the first time that Daddy left and he wouldn't sleep in his crib the entire time that Dad was gone. He would climb out and come to my room, crying for him. It was hard."

"Santos and Lori Anne!?" Addison looks scandalized and I have to fight hard not to smile because clearly I could win an Oscar. I have even made my eyes all teary. Go me. "They - they separated? How long?"

Shit. Erica and I didn't plan that part. It's a good thing that I'm a fan of improv. I dramatically sip my wine and try to appear like I'm struggling with the pain of it all. I'm actually struggling for words. "I lost count. Sometimes it would be a few days. Sometimes weeks. When I was seventeen they were broken up for about six months. It was so horrible. Jasper's grades fell. I was already moody, but I'd fall apart in the blink of an eye and, you know, blame myself."

"Why would you blame yourself?" Mark demands. "It was their problem. Not yours."

"It's what kids do," Erica tells him, squeezing my hand emphatically in such a show of support that I swear she's channeling Meryl Streep. She looks down, eyes closed momentarily, and then lifts her head and looks at Mark. "They assign blame to themselves because their parents are their heroes. Even when they can't get it together. Parents are always heroes."

Mark puts his fork down and looks around the table. He studies me, then Erica, and finally lets his eyes land on Addison. "My parents didn't want kids. They liked to remind me all the time that I was a mistake. I wasn't part of their plan. I didn't blame myself for that and I certainly didn't regard them as heroes. I just went and found a family who didn't mind having me."

"You were adopted?" Erica asks, eyes wide. She wants that solidarity, I think. She wants something in common with someone. Anyone. Even Mark.

"Not legally," he replies. "Derek and I became best friends pretty young and I basically lived at his house. It was the first time I ever saw what a real family looks like. And they welcomed me, called me 'son', bitched at me if I broke curfew or got a bad grade. I was adopted in every way that counted."

"So, it didn't matter to them that you weren't theirs in every sense of the word." I keep my eyes on my plate, cutting up a piece of broccoli with as much care as I'd give an exposed nerve in the operating room. "Blood shouldn't matter. Kids just need to be accepted. Loved."

"That's true," Erica agrees. "People have to realize that when a child is involved ... it's not about them anymore. You have to do what you can to stay together and provide a stable home."

"Because instability," I add, "makes kids blame themselves. Jasper actually asked my mother if he did a bad thing after he chased my Dad's car down the driveway when he was five. It always felt like Dad was leaving us and not my mom."

Mark reaches for the wine bottle and splashes a liberal amount into his glass. "I can't imagine Santos leaving his family."

"Me either," says Addison.

"Even the best fathers make mistakes, Mark." Erica shrugs.

"And even the best mothers have stubborn pride, Addison," I say, stunned at how choked up I sound. Holy shit. I've almost convinced myself it really happened. "My mom wouldn't let him make amends a lot of the time. She expected him to be perfect when he was only ever a man. And even if I thought he could do not wrong ... she didn't agree. There were actually times that I hated her for keeping him away from me."

Addison and Mark look at one another and I catch Erica's eye. She winks at me. We are so fucking brilliant that we should get ourselves immortalized in bronze statues. How cool are we? Seriously? I don't even feel guilty for lying through my teeth either. What's a little white lie among friends. I cut another piece of broccoli and say, "Addison, aren't you having an exam tomorrow?"

She nods at me. "Ten thirty. You want to come with me? I'm nervous. I don't want to go alone."

I cut my eyes over at Mark, happy to see that he's glaring at her. "Can't. I have surgery at ten."

"Were you going to tell me?" Mark demands. "Or were you going to wait until the kid's born and the paternity test comes back before you let me be involved?"

"Does anyone want more chicken?" Erica offers. "It's really good. Moist."

Addison ignores her, all of her attention on Mark. "I don't have to wait, Mark. I can have the amnio done in a couple of weeks."

"No, you cannot!" Mark growls. "There are too many risks and -"

"And having a baby at my age also carries risks. I want to make sure that everything is okay and -"

"And what if it's not?" Slamming his knife on the table, Mark points a finger at her. "You are not thinking what I think you're thinking. Please tell me that abo-"

"No! And don't point your finger at me!" Addison smacks his hand down. "Even if there was a problem ... I'm having this baby. I want this baby."

"You're not doing an amnio, Addison. I mean it."

"Since when do you have dominion over my body?"

"The baby is mine. I have dominion over that."

"Could you pass the bread? Mark?" I wait for him to oblige, but he doesn't. I push myself to my feet to retrieve it and then hiss as pain surges through my loins. The third time with the alien penis was pushing it, I think. I cross my legs, then uncross them and grab the bread, easing back onto the wooden chair.

The annoyance has vanished off Mark's face. Now he looks like a kid in a candy store. "You guys found my gift, huh?"

"Shut up," I snap, mortification racing through my veins.

"Oh my god! You did!" Mark throws his head back and laughs heartily.

I feel all the blood rush to my head and when Erica clears her throat I know that she's just as red as I am. Addison looks back and forth between us and says, "What gift? What am I missing?"

Mark is still laughing when he says, "You like your bright yellow vibrator so much that I bought Erica one for her birthday."

Addison, who has just taken a big sip of water, spits it out all over the place and because I'm sitting across from her, I get the brunt of it. "MARK SLOAN!" she yells. "YOU DID NOT!"

"Oh, I did! And I guess they did, too. I thought you looked a little bow legged earlier, Cal, but I wasn't sure."

"Seriously?" Addy raises a brow, studying me, then Erica. "Wow."

"Stop. Picturing. It. Perv," I growl menacingly, returning to my broccoli. I cut another piece up and push it around on my plate in an attempt to make it appear that I've eaten it.

Mark laughs a little harder. "She's not the pervert, Callie."

"You are the pervert for giving it to them!" Addison assures him. "And don't sit over there acting like it's funny because you like playing with my toys and -"

"Awww, Mark, do you like a little French tickling up the -" Erica begins.

"Absolutely not!" The smile has vanished from Mark's face and unless I'm mistaken, his ears are turning just as red as mine undoubtedly are. "I like using them on her. And before any of you bitches can tell me that I do that because I can't get the job done ... I'm not threatened by it. A little variety keeps a relationship fresh. And she's kinky. Okay?"

"We're in a relationship?" Addison asks softly. "Because I thought -"

"Of course we are!" Mark's voice is loud now. "I bought you a dog! Only men in relationships do that!"

"Who told you that!?"

"It was on Oprah! And you can't give it back, Addison, because I checked with the apartment complex and I can't have pets. And ... I'm going to opt out of my lease and buy a place," Mark tells her. "And you, your dog, your toys and my baby are welcome to come, too. We need a huge yard. If this kid is anything like you it'll need plenty of room to run around in."

The smile that Addison gives him is, quite possibly, the prettiest that I've ever seen.

Under the table, Erica's foot rubs over mine and I lift my toes, stroking against hers.

It's wrong to gloat and let's face it ... I'm still too mortified to attempt it ... but Addison and Mark are officially in a relationship and since I'm in one ... I can say that's the best place to be.

And mean it.

"Are you going to actually eat the broccoli at some point?" Erica asks me suddenly.

I jump, busted. "Uhm ... no?"

"You really are a lost cause." Erica smiles at me. "And I don't mind."

After Addison and Mark leave, Erica and I take advantage of the hot tub. It's so cold outside that our breath mingles with the steam from the tub but we create enough heat with our heavy petting that we don't freeze. I'm sitting on top of her, my legs around her waist when I say, "You're an aunt. Do you have a niece or a nephew?"

She stiffens just a little and smoothes warm water over my shoulder. "Both, actually. Twins. The boy has the flu. He's in the hospital because he has asthma and was having trouble breathing."

"And is your dad coming soon?"

"I don't know."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing really."

"You were on the phone longer than 'nothing'."

"Callie, I really don't want to talk about it." She shifts a little, pulling me a little further under the water so that my arms are covered. "You have goose bumps."

I rub the front of her neck with my thumb, tracing the pulse there. "We could go and see him."

"Stop." It's impossible to ignore the look of warning she gives me. I know it well. I decide not to push the topic and she's so grateful that she kisses me, wrapping her arms a little tighter around my waist. "Cal?"

"What?"

"You really are sore, aren't you?"

"I really am."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'm not complaining." I touch her cheek, lifting her eyes to mine. "But I'm not really asking you to do it again any time soon either. I - I like that we're soft, you know? Even if we're rough ... we're still soft."

She nods at me. "I like that, too."

"But I have to admit ... the little harness thing was hot. I may like that more than your blue panties."

"Surely not."

"I don't know. Maybe you should put those on later so I can be sure."

Laughing, she splashes water in my face. "You are incorrigible."

"It's one of the many talents I possess."

I kiss her again and she hugs me, clinging to me a little harder than she ever has before. "I love you, Lee."

"I love you, too."

She sags against me a little, angling her face so that it's in the crook of my neck and out of the wind that has picked up. "I really thought that he was coming."

"I know."

"And he didn't."

"I'm sorry."

"I wanted to be in control earlier. With you. That's what that was."

"I know that, too."

"And you let me?"

"I can't think of anything I wouldn't let you do. If I thought it's what you needed."

The hitch in her breathing proves that she's crying. And I can't bring myself to watch her so I simply hang onto her ... as tightly as I can ... because she deserves to know that some people value her.

And would never willingly let her go.

Even if she wields a scary alien penis.

When Jasper was eight and I was eighteen ... he tried on my graduation cap and gown. It was patented royal blue and the tassel had orange and white in it. It was too long and the hat was ill fitting, but he wanted his picture made in it all the same. I pulled out the trusty Polaroid and he hammed it up, rolling a newspaper in his hand to act as his diploma. I have one of those pictures, worn and cracked, in the inside pocket of my purse. Sometimes I forget that it's there and I'll randomly find it when I'm searching for something or if, God forbid, I buy a new purse and have to change the contents around. It used to fill me with sadness when I looked at that picture because Jasper never got to graduate. He never got to deal with teenage drama and dating and he never got to wear a cap and gown of his own.

I take that photo out of my purse now and when I look at it ... it fills me with hope.

It's been three weeks since Erica's birthday.

Only three weeks.

Twenty one days.

And the change in my brother is astonishing.

Halloween decorations have gone up in the hospital and he's noticing little things that he never would have noticed before. Monsters were never something that stuck in his head, but now, when I take his hand and we walk in the hallway, he points out Dracula and Frankenstein and he calls them by name. I'm sure I have Cristina to thank for explaining vampire mythology to him. I currently have a bruise on my neck where Jasper bit me after announcing that he was going to suck my blood and turn me into a bat. He's no longer hooked up to an IV and he's allowed outside for short periods of time, but he has to wear a helmet. Because of that, he opts to stay indoors and asks a steady stream of questions about everything under the sun.

You don't really understand how much can change in fifteen years until you're set free from the chains that kept you bound.

Jasper wants to know about cars and airplanes. He's obsessed with watching action movies and he gasps in all the right places and covers his eyes when things are tense. He understands, but instead of being a five year old trapped inside the body of a twenty five year old man ... he's ten. He wants to skateboard, but he can't control his gangly arms and legs because his mind hasn't grown into his body yet. And he's not perfect. He has moments where he lapses back into his old speech patterns or asks me about school and no matter how many times we explain it ... he refuses to believe that he's an adult. When he saw himself in the mirror for the first time, he slapped the glass and said he was ugly and bald.

I told him he was handsome.

He told me that I was pretty.

And then he cried because I did and it scared him.

Little by little, piece by broken piece, Jasper Torres is becoming a man. This is what I wanted, but watching things overwhelm him is hard to do. Mark bought him a Gameboy and no matter how he tried, Jazz couldn't control his fingers enough to play it. Erica finally took it from him and calmed him down before a tantrum erupted. And believe me, there have been plenty of those. Whenever Derek wheels the stimulator into the room, Jasper tries to flee and he'll beg for them not to hurt him until my parents have to leave the room. They can't handle it. They can't listen to him plead like that. It's hard for me to watch, but I do. I asked for this and I'll stop it if I have to.

The strangest thing about Jasper's recovery is the role that Izzie Stevens plays in it. She was released a week ago, but she's still on medical leave. Every day she appears, however, and every day she has a new puzzle or coloring book for Jasper. She'll sit with him on the floor of his room for hours, putting puzzles together, showing him picture books and asking him what different animals are and she even reads him comic books. I was very, very happy when he told her that she didn't do the voices as good as Yellow, but I'm trying to work through that. I'm also trying to work through the fact that Jasper is more independent now. He doesn't need me. He doesn't rush to me or fling himself into my arms every time I appear. Letting him go this time is bittersweet. I had no choice the first time because the ocean took him and gave him back wrong, but I wanted him to grow up. And growing up means growing apart.

It hurts all the same.

What hurts even more is the fact that Gavin Freakin' Cole has put together a variety show for the stupid fund raiser and has me singing not one, not two, but several songs. One of those, God help me, I'll be doing with him. It's a duet that he penned himself and while I would never tell him this ... it's actually kinda pretty. Maybe he has another talent that is just as impressive as his ability to annoy the ever loving HELL out of me.

What also annoys me is the fact that rehearsals for this orgy of humiliation will begin right after Halloween.

And I really have much better things to do with my time.

Like Erica.

Who is apparently working late.

I glance at the large clock in the waiting room and shut my iPod off, shifting uncomfortably. Forty five minutes really isn't that much time until you've been on your feet all day, you're hungry, and your ass is numb from the uncomfortable seats. Gavin should buy better chairs for the hospital. That's what we should raise funds for. I get to my feet, hell bent on paging Erica and run straight into a broad, sturdy chest.

"Ooomph," I grunt, holding my hands up. "I am so sorry! I never watch where I'm going."

"It's quite all right, miss."

Where have I heard that voice? I look up at the gray haired man and gasp. His eyes are blue. Just the right shade of blue. A shade of blue that I plan on looking at for the rest of my life. His nose is like hers and when he purses his lips ... a dimple appears in his chin.

Erica's father.

Is here.

Rick Salinger.

"Do you work here?" he asks. "Miss?"

"Yes. Are you looking for Erica?"

He does a double take on me. "How did you -"

"You look like her. Or ... she looks like you." I extend my hand. "I'm Callie Torres. It's nice to meet you."

"Oh! You're Callie!" He takes my hand, squeezing it gently with both of his. "My ... daughter has told me about you. She said you were beautiful. It's nice to see that she's not a liar."

I smile at him. This? This is Mark Sloan in thirty years. Rick is smooth, he's composed, and he's here.

Oh my god.

He's here.

The elevator dings behind him and I know ... I just know ... that Erica will be on it. The same way that I feel an aching in my stomach when she's out of sight for too long ... I get a fluttering in my chest when she's nearby. I can't explain it. It's just there. I hear her boots on the floor and it's crazy that I'm so familiar with her that I even recognize her gait. I step to the left and see that she's checking her phone. I have to speak fast.

"Look, Mr. Salinger, I don't know why you're here, but if you hurt her it will be the very last thing you do."

His caterpillar like eyebrows dance upward and a grin that's almost identical to hers, complete with a slightly crooked bottom tooth, spreads over his face. "I can assure you ... I'm properly chastened. Nicely done."

"I'm not playing around." My ire is definitely rankled by his dismissive banter and I cross my arms over my chest. "You hurt her by not showing up for her birthday and she got over that because you can't control the weather, but you should have come afterwards."

"I'm here now."

"Then you better make it count."

I become officially enraged when he pats my cheek, then pinches it. "I like you."

"The jury is still out on you, Judge," I reply, swatting his hand away. "Here she comes. And just in case Erica didn't mention it ... I break bones for a living. And a man your age is probably pretty brittle. One toe out of line, Mister, and snap."

"I'll make sure that my toes and my bones are well behaved."

"See that you do."

My phone rings and Leona Lewis warbles about 'Bleeding Love' (which Erica doesn't understand at all, she hates the song) and I quickly silence it, stepping around Rick. Erica smiles beautifully at me and then it fades when she sees the man standing to my left. She knows him. She recognizes him the same way I did. Even if we didn't have a grainy black and white photo ... she would know him anywhere. Drawing up short, she looks at the doors of the hospital and then back at Rick. She's debating whether or not to run. I don't blame her. I'm debating whether or not I can pick her up and dart into the night quicker than Flash Gordon.

I start toward her, but she comes my way fast. I actually take a step back because there's a look on her face that I've really never seen before ... and then she's hugging her father and he's hugging her and I really didn't expect that, but I like it much better than going to bail her out of jail for assault.

Apparently Erica Hahn has not lost her ability to surprise me.

We head to dinner with her father. She chooses the restaurant on top of the Archfield and I don't know if it's because she's comfortable there or if she wants to impress him. Either way, we find ourselves in the secluded round booth that overlooks the city and I watch her closely as she interacts with this man who may or may not be worth his weight in salt. It's disconcerting to see them side by side. Even their mannerisms are similar. They butter their bread on the inside after cutting it neatly instead of slathering the top like me. They both trace the rim of their glass when they're paying attention to one another and they both order salmon and salads. I go straight for red meat, earning a reproachful glare from Erica, but she refrains from mentioning it.

Like an open book, Erica relays her life story. I notice that she leaves out a few of the hairier details and clear my throat. She gives me her full attention, but I only have eyes for her father. He's charming. He's TOO charming if you catch my drift. I can spot a snake oil salesman a mile away. Well, okay ... I may not have judged O'Malley's character very well, but I learned the hard way. And I don't think this ... stranger ... should get the condensed and watered down version of Erica's life. I just don't. Because he could have prevented it. He could have saved her from it.

"Callie?" Erica prompts. "Did you want to say something?"

"Yeah. Rick," I begin, taking a deep breath, "what she's not telling you is that she went to bed hungry most of the time, lived in squalor, and was emotionally abused up until the moment she left for college. I don't know about her, but I think that I would like to hear why you let that happen."

I see Erica's mouth drop open out of the corner of my eye, but I don't acknowledge it. If there's hell to pay later on ... I'll pay it. But right now I want answers to the questions that she doesn't seem to want to ask.

Across the table, Rick clears his throat and says, "I - I do owe her an explanation."

"Yeah, you do," I agree. "I'm sure she's all ears."

"I need to go to the restroom," Erica announces suddenly. "Callie? Do you?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you need to go to the restroom," she presses, giving me a steely look of determination. "Now."

"It's okay, Erica." Salinger puts his hand on hers, rubbing with his thumb. I notice that there are age spots there. Lots of them. "Callie's actually right and since she already threatened to break my brittle bones ... I'm going to oblige her."

"You didn't," Erica growls at me. "Torres!"

Ow. Use of the surname. That's bad.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "But I'm the one who saw you after he repeatedly broke his promise to come here and -"

"Stop. Talking." Erica holds up a hand. "I mean it, Callie."

Rick clears his throat, signals the waiter, and asks for another bottle of wine. Erica has her arms crossed over her chest and I realize that her body language mirrors my own. I can feel the tension rippling off her in waves and I really hope she can feel mine, too. When the waiter leaves to bring us another Merlot, Rick looks at Erica, then at me. "I didn't know that Erica had been given to her aunt and uncle until right before she graduated high school. It was my understanding that her mother was putting her up for adoption and had found a lovely, wealthy family in Lincoln to take her."

"Why put her up for adoption at all?" I ask, trying to appear nonplussed about crossing the line. "Why didn't you take her? You're obviously a lot older than her mother was and -"

"I was married," Rick replies. "I was married and already had two sons. Mary Elizabeth, Erica's mother, babysat for us and -"

I snort, shaking my head. "That's rich. You seduced your babysitter?!"

"Do you want to hear the story or insult me?" Rick cocks his head to one side and when I don't reply, he goes on. "Mary Elizabeth was sixteen and she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I was older. A lot older. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was illegal. I knew that it was morally bankrupt, but I had an affair with her. It lasted for roughly six months and then I ended it because my wife found out. Mary Elizabeth told me a week later that she was pregnant and I paid for all of her medical care and told her which adoption agencies were the most reputable. You have to understand ... I was well respected. I was running for District Attorney. I had political aspirations. And this girl ... this girl from the poorest family in our town was pregnant with my child."

"You didn't mind that she was poor when you were having sex with her," Erica says suddenly. "Right?"

"I was infatuated. And I've already said that I was wrong." Rick stops talking when the waiter reappears and fills all of our glasses. I drink half of mine down in one gulp. Erica does the same. Rick doesn't touch his and focuses on Erica instead. "After Mary Elizabeth gave birth ... I went to the hospital and I saw you. Erica, I held you and I was proud of you. You were beautiful. You had ... my eyes. My boys didn't have my eyes and I wanted you. I wanted to take you home with me, but my wife at the time wouldn't accept that. You would have suffered at her hand. She was not the kindest woman and that's why I was drawn to your mother. Mary Elizabeth was kind. She saw life in a different way. She made me feel young again.

"So, I let you go. I let you go with the understanding that you were being adopted by a decent family. It ripped my heart out." He does sip his wine now and I notice that his chin is trembling. It looks EXACTLY like Erica's when she's about to cry and hating him really would be easier if he didn't look so damn much like her. "Seventeen years went by. I had moved from District Attorney into the Judge's chambers and I was well on my way to running for Congress. My wife died and I wish I could say that I was sad to see her go, but I wasn't. I decided to find you. I found out that your mother had died and visited her grave one day while you were there. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were my daughter. I followed you and saw the trailer home you parked your bicycle at and I wanted to rush in and save you, but I couldn't."

"Why not?" I lean forward, glaring at him. "You had every right to 'rush in and save her'. You're her father."

"And an illegitimate love child would have ruined my chances at a career." Rick drains his glass and sets it aside. When he touches Erica on the arm and she looks at him ... I'm tempted to fling myself between them to make whatever he says next hurt me before it can hurt her. "I did the only thing I could do. I made sure that you got a scholarship to any college you wanted and I did the best I could to give you everything you needed. Every time you requested financial aid ... they simply dipped into what I set up for you. That's why you didn't have to pay it back. It wasn't a filing mistake like they told you. I tried to make amends."

"What about after that?" Erica asks. "Why didn't you come and find me after that?"

"And shake your foundation? Throw you off your game? Complicate your life?" He touches the curl in the front of her hair that always mesmerizes me. "You don't know how happy I was to see that you had left that note behind. I visit your mother's grave every couple of weeks and I called you the instant I saw it. I couldn't believe that you possibly wanted me as much as I had wanted you.

"I know that I can't make it up to you, honey. I saw the way you lived. I know what your 'parents' were like. I actually presided over a couple of their misdemeanor cases before I knew that they had you." He puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes. "But I would love the opportunity to know you. I can't change the past, but the future is wide open. And I've got a few days to stay here. What do you say? Is that okay with you?"

Erica's response is to nod. I think that'll be the extent of her reaction to his words, but it's not. I watch her lean forward and put her head against his shoulder. He hugs her with both arms, kissing the top of her head and a huge lump forms in my throat as I watch tears trace a path down his wrinkled cheek.

I put my napkin on my plate and stand up ... leaving them alone.

Intruding on something so personal feels wrong.

I loiter in the bathroom, pretending to be retrieving a tampon every time the door opens. When it swings open the fifth time, Erica is standing there. She's obviously been crying and every fiber in my being wants to close the distance between us and comfort her, but she shoots me a look and walks past me into the stall. I lean back against the wall and say, "Okay, in my defense ... he had that coming."

"Did you really threaten to break his bones?"

"Brittle bones," I correct. "And yes. Yes, I did."

"And did you actually tell him that you would kill him if he hurt me?"

"Something like that."

She opens the stall and moves to the sink, looking at me in the mirror. "You made quite an impression."

"I'm not sorry."

Snatching several towels from the holder she turns around and glares at me while she dries her hands. I feel like I'm being lined up before a firing squad and really ... the last thing either of us need is a fight because we've really been doing well. She tosses the towels and puts her hands on her hips. "You're not sorry?"

Oh god. I really shouldn't have said that. "I could ... possibly be moderately sorry, but I'm not COMPLETELY sorry."

"Do you think I'm pissed?"

"Completely," I assure her.

She walks across the bathroom, her heels clicking on the tile, and stops in front of me. "Look at me."

"I don't need to look at you to hear you yell at me, Erica. I assure you I can hear just fine."

"Look. At. Me."

I sigh and meet her gaze. "I'm looking."

A smile breaks over her features and she leans into me, pushing me back against the wall. "You made quite an impression on me, too."

"Huh?"

"I like this protective thing. It's kinda hot." She rubs my cheek, still smiling. Against my ear, she whispers, "Hot enough to take you right now."

"I'm stunned enough to let you."

"I'll refrain," she replies, pushing away from the wall. "And because we're going to have a houseguest ... we'll have to abstain for a few days."

"What ... no ... no, there should be no abstaining. I can be very quiet."

"I can't." She shrugs innocently and presses a soft kiss on my lips. "And this will teach you that you shouldn't run your mouth. Because when your mouth runs ... it's too busy to do anything else."

"But you said it was hot!"

"Are you turned on right now?"

"Uh ... yeah."

"Then we're even." She holds out her hand. "Let's go."

"CAL-LEE!"

"Hey, Buddy!" I brace myself because Jasper comes running down the hall. Instead of ramming into me like he usually does, he stops a few feet away and walks very slowly, almost comically. "What are you doing?"

"Walk don't run," he replies, looking at me like I just asked the most stupid question known to mankind. "Now I can hug you."

"Okay." I open my arms and he throws his around me. He's been outside. I can smell it on him ... freedom, open air, happiness. I'm sorry that I missed it. The hospital doesn't feel right now that Erica has is taking a few days off to reconnect with her father. Poor Webber. He actually told me that he's going to put a stop to all vacation time since he hasn't had one in years. But he was laughing when he said it. "How are you today?"

"Good. Sleepy."

"Are you?"

"Yeah. Vampire movie scared me last night. I not sleep too much."

"Vampires are not real, Jasper. They're fake."

"Fake. Not real."

"You can't be scared about fake things."

"Oh yes I can. I was. Duh!"

Did he just say 'duh' to me. I smack him playfully on the arm. "You want to know what's real?"

He scratches his head and stares up at the ceiling for a second. "My friend is real."

"You have a friend?"

"Emma." He points down the hall and I turn in time to see Emma Foster waving from her father's arms. She spots me and grunts, kicking her feet to be put down. Mr. Foster relents and I bend over to catch her as she comes charging toward me like she's been fired out of a canon. All the swelling is gone. The bruises have faded. And even though her tongue is still lolling just enough to make her drool, I swear she's smiling at me.

"Walk don't run, Emma!" Jasper tells her wagging his finger. "You fall down and cry."

She shakes her head and peels the sticker off her shirt, holding it out to him. He pulls his own sticker off and they trade. He points at the cartoon dog on his new sticker and says, "Booty goes 'ruff' and 'grrrr'."

He punctuates the 'grrrr' by goosing Emma in the ribs and so help me God ...

She laughs.

It's not a wheezing.

It's not a grainy sucking of air past any tubes.

She laughs.

It's not a normal laugh. It's not a giggle or a chuckle, but it's like a million tinkering bells to me and I can only stare at her in shock. She catches me looking at her and rubs her tiny fingers over her jaw and then gives me a thumbs up, nodding her head. It's really unprofessional to cry in front of patients or, you know, pick them up and cradle them in your arms, but I seem hell bent on breaking all the rules. When she puts her head against mine and laughs again ... my eyes are so full of tears that I'm swimming. I have to struggle to breathe. I walk down the hall with her, toward the window so that I can collect myself and Jasper follows, talking about vampires and Halloween, which is tomorrow.

Gazing out over Seattle ... I think that it's really Halloween every day.

We all knock on stranger's doors and ask them for a little kindness.

I've been tricked quite a few times, but I've been treated more.

And everyone wears costumes, I guess. We pigeonhole ourselves into characters, mere sketches of who we really are those caricatures never fully represent us. Erica was the 'badass'. I was the 'loner'. Mark was the 'man whore'. Izzie was the 'husband stealer'. And Karev ... Alex Karev was the 'hot head'.

I think we've all put our costumes away, though.

Erica has a heart like nothing I've ever seen before and she's definitely a badass, but she's also got a grace about her that leaves me spellbound. She's kind. Hell, she generously teaches now and when I ask her about it ... she says that I taught her and she wants to pay it forward.

And I not longer seek out the darkest corners of the hospital to dwell alone in. I want to surround myself with the people that I love and leave enough room for new people to come in and greet me. I guess maybe I don't hate people anymore. If I can find myself growing fond of Erica's father ... anything can happen.

Mark's little black book is a thing of the past, too. He put money down on a house with a cobblestone patio and spends his days looking at barbecue grills and feeling Addison's stomach. He said he wants a girl because he's not used to only one woman in his life, but I can tell that he loves it.

Izzie ... Izzie wouldn't steal anything, I don't think. She gives so much of herself to Jasper, to my parents, and ... to me. In her own way she's carefully erasing past hurts by walking Jasper through a complicated new life. And Karev was only a hot head when he had to be. He's also the man who died believing that he was going to step up and be a father to Izzie's baby. He died on his way to pick out a crib. I overheard Izzie telling Jasper that Alex was holding her baby in heaven. I need to believe that.

I think the best thing any of us can be for Halloween is ourselves.

Because we worked our asses off to get here.

Didn't we?