The children's ward at Seattle Grace hospital is always colorful and fun. The nurses who work that area are geniuses who always find a way to spark imagination, even in the sickest patients. Halloween on C-block, which is what we all call it, is my favorite time of the year. It's not just the candy (which I do admit that I love), it's the fact that at seven o'clock, we bring the outside in and leave all the parents sitting in rooms with an abundance of candy while we wheel, walk, and parade the children all around the wing to trick or treat. We use toilet paper to create mummies and I raid the local stores for last minute costumes. For an hour those kids forget that they're sick. They don't remember that they're in pain or that they have a surgery looming ahead of them. For sixty minutes ... they're kids. And being sick doesn't matter anymore.

I always feel like the biggest kid in the bunch because I've been front and center each of my six years at Seattle Grace. It happened because I got attached to a patient with bone cancer when I first started. His name was Colby Bernson and he was eight years old. He wanted to be a hockey player for Halloween and I postponed his surgery, a double amputation, so that he could walk and trick or treat one last time. He didn't trick or treat though ... he gave candy instead. When we opened him up a few days later we realized that the cancer had spread further and it wasn't operable. I broke the news as carefully as I could and then I sat in the utility closet and cried. In Miami, for Christmas, I bought him a snow globe with hockey pucks in it, but he died before I returned home. And that's how Halloween came to the C-block and that's why I overfill my shopping cart with candy, games, and costumes after I leave Jazz at the hospital playing Operation with Emma.

The sound of her laughter is still clinging to me when I open the door and hang my jacket on the hall tree. It's funny how you can find yourself submersed in everything you ever wanted. I'm drowning in my own happiness, I think. Jasper is healing. I've never been happier with the romantic aspects of my life. My career is on the right path and I heard Emma Foster laugh. That's all I wanted. When I held her in my arms and sang to her before her surgery, when I screwed her new jaw into place, when I braided her hair and kept my word ... I did so because I wanted to hear her laugh. And she gave that to me.

Life is good.

And short.

The grandfather clock in the corner is illuminated with a lamp and I can't believe how quickly the day got away from me. It's easy to lose track of time when your mind is so occupied, but now that I'm home ... I feel her everywhere. I take a second to look at my leather coat against Erica's beige cloth one. We are so completely different, yet so complimentary to one another that it shows through in every aspect of our lives. Our coats are different, yet they hang next to each other like they were always supposed to be arranged like that. I know that it must have been fate that brought us together and will keep us together. We are as different as we are the same and I wouldn't change that for all the money in the world. I take her coat down and bring the collar to my face, breathing her in and a huge lump fills my throat when I realize that the day will eventually come where one of us will leave the other for good. It settles in my stomach like fire and I wish that I had not spent so much time shopping for candy and Halloween stuff for the party because it's late and she's -

"I'm sure I smell better than that jacket."

- behind me.

I put it back on the hook, take a deep breath, and turn around. I'm sure that my smile looks genuine because it always is with her, but the look she gives me makes me think that she knows exactly what I was thinking. There really is never enough time. Not having her at work today left me feeling like I had misplaced something all day. No matter how distracted I was ... I felt her absence in my soul like a toothache. I hate it. She puts her wine glass down on the coffee table and pads to where I'm standing, her bare feet whispering against the hardwood. She's right. She does smell better than the jacket. She's lilacs and sweet red wine and I put my face against her neck as I hug her. "Bad day?" she asks, rubbing comforting circles on my back.

"Not really."

Leaning back, she cups my cheek. "What's wrong?"

"I haven't seen you for hours and I hate it."

"I know the feeling."

"I get that I have to share you with your dad, but do you think maybe you can come to the hospital tomorrow night? The kids are doing their Halloween thing and I'll be there late for that."

"I wouldn't miss it."

"Are you sure? I know that you want to spend as much time with him as you can and -"

"Hey, look at me." She waits until I give her my undivided attention. "You don't like to share and because I know that ... I will find a happy medium here."

"I share just fine, Yellow."

She laughs. "Yeah, right. Do we need to take a walk down memory lane?"

"Apparently."

"Well, let me see." She rests her hands on my hips, sliding her thumbs under my shirt to touch my skin. "You didn't like that I was friend's with Helen's mother, but I'll give you that one. You also didn't appreciate me spending time with Rachel's brother the night we went to the party for the group home. And you've made it very clear that you'd prefer being here alone with me than socializing with other people. Do you need me to continue?"

I make a face at her. "Fine. I don't share well."

"He's only here for a few days, baby. And then we can go right back into seclusion and be lusty hermits who only have eyes for each other."

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

"The first thing I loved about you, Callie, is that you don't like people either." She gives me a quick kiss. "But I really want to find out if my dad can be an exception to that rule. Okay?"

I grin at her. "You're really good at this communication thing."

"I'm really good at everything. Didn't you get the memo?"

"Memo? If someone wrote down all the stuff you're good at ... it would be thicker than the Bible."

"You're really good at getting in my pants, Torres."

"Is that an invitation?"

"It's more like a plea. From a sure thing."

"No time like the present to be a sure thing, Dr. Hahn."

"Dinner first. I know you. You didn't eat, did you?"

"Not yet."

The lump in my throat vanishes when she kisses me again. She pins me back against the door and massages my mouth with hers while her thumbs rub over my jaw, then down my neck. It makes me lightheaded and it's not the first or last time that she will intoxicate me, but it still takes my breath every single time she manages to do it. When she pulls back and nods at the fireplace I have to smile. The wood is crackling and I can see that she has put a tray of food in front of it. She loosely threads her fingers through mine as she leads me to the blanket and waits for me to sit down. She retrieves her glass, sits across from me, and taps the plate of lasagna that is already making my stomach gurgle in anticipation. "My dad made it. It's amazing. You'll like it."

"I'm sorry I missed dinner," I tell her, picking up the fork and slicing through the tender noodles. "How did it go?"

"Good." She watches me savor a fork full of lasagna and smiles when I moan rapturously. "I think it's safe to say that I inherited cooking from him. He's like a machine in the kitchen. It was unreal to watch him. He made the noodles from scratch and everything."

"Damn, that is impressive." I compliment Rick's cooking but wonder if Erica realizes that she could never be like a machine, in the kitchen or otherwise. Anyone who knows her knows how human she is, how full of love and devotion she can be when given the chance. And I wonder if Rick, in his machine-like state, is aware of that and if he knows just how deeply Erica has hurt because of his lack of presence in her life. I wonder if she realizes that only a machine could lack the humanity to claim what is rightfully theirs and take care of it.

No, she could never be a machine.

I devour half a slice of garlic bread, watching her intently. She's gazing at the fire like it's the most interesting thing she's ever seen. It reminds me of the night in Miami when we sat roasting marshmallows and she finally told me about her family. She had stared into the flames the same way that night and it's more than a little unnerving. "Are you okay? Yellow?"

She takes a deep breath and so help me God ... I can't help but admire the way she fills out her long sleeved t-shirt. I'm such a fucking pervert. She's clearly got something on her mind and the only thing I can think about it how nice Tigger looks pulled tightly across her chest. Walt Disney would be rolling over in his grave if he knew what I'd like to do with my tongue and what's currently concealed under Tigger. "I have two brothers and one sister. Ritchie is the oldest. He's ten years older than me. He is a lawyer who specializes in child welfare cases. He's also single and has never been married. Ryan is next. He's eight years older than me and he's married to a black woman that he met in Kenya. The twins are theirs. Hayden and Hartley are six."

"You have a sister, too. Right?" I keep my voice light because the sister came after Erica. And that's got to burn.

"Yeah. After his first wife died, my dad met a woman who was a lot younger than him and they got married. They had Vivian who is eleven years younger than me. She was Little Miss Nebraska, a beauty queen, a cheerleader, the homecoming queen, and she married a man who wound up beating her nearly to death. She lost her baby and her husband went to prison."

My eyes widen in shock and I nearly choke on my mouthful of pasta. "Oh my god."

"Dad was arrested for assaulting the husband at his sentencing four years ago. They dropped the charges though because the bastard actually laughed when Vivian was making her victim impact speech. He laughed at her, Callie, like it didn't matter. Like she didn't matter and their baby was nothing." Erica shakes her head, her blue eyes finding mine. "Dad retired right after that. I think maybe it was one of the stipulations of the charges being dropped. Apparently I inherited the ability to win friends and influence people from him, too. No one likes him."

"You're nothing like him."

Her pale eyebrows go up a notch. "No?"

"No."

"You don't see any similarities with my Dad?"

"None."

"He's got a mean streak, Callie."

"There's nothing mean about you. You have a tendency to be tough, unreadable, and occasionally nasty, but -"

"Are you referring to our sex life lately?"

I grin at her. "There is that and before you ask ... no ... I don't want to open up the box of sin again."

"Damn." She wrinkles her nose and my fingers itch to touch her, to brush her hair back, anything. She helps herself to my bread and adds, "I am like him a little. I fight for who I love."

I have to agree with her. She did that for me, after all. "I guess you do."

It almost pains me to admit that she does perhaps have something in common with him. Her ability to protect me, stand up for me, and fight for me no matter how wrong I am or how much she may disagree with the situation is one of the reasons why I love her so much. It's also one of the many things she's taught me in the short time we've been together. Though I had never been like that before her, I would gladly do the same things for her if the situation called for it.

"There are worst things me having something in common with my Dad, Cal."

"Yeah. I could have something in common with my mother."

"Oh god! Don't speak it out loud."

The ease with which she calls Rick 'Dad' doesn't sit well with me, but I understand it. She's accepted this man into our life with the same devotion that my mother had when Jasper was injured and came back wrong. All that mattered at the end of the day ... is that he came back. Crying over lost time really only steals the time that remains and makes you drown it with tears instead of color it with smiles and laughter. I make the decision in that moment to watch out for her at all costs ... because when you give your trust so quickly you're asking to be hurt, but I don't tell her that.

I can't tell her that.

Because Erica has a family and she's happy.

I still don't have to like him.

"He's invited us to visit his place in Nebraska for Christmas. I told him I didn't know because this is our first Christmas and that's the most important thing, but maybe afterward ... if you want ... we could go and meet everyone. Maybe for New Years."

I can see the hopefulness in her face and I force myself to smile. "I think that would be great."

Her head tilts just a little as she studies me. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm positive."

She reaches across the tray, pushing a strand of hair off my cheek. "What did you do at work today?"

"I heard Emma Foster laugh."

Erica alone, out of everyone that I know, understands just how much I wanted that. Her eyes sparkle in the flickering light and I don't object when she moves the tray from between us. Kneeling in front of me, she takes my hand in hers and asks, "Was it incredible?"

"Everything in life is ... with you."

She gives me a grin that says 'Goofy' more than Tigger at the moment. And then she says the three words I can never hear enough from her, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

We leave the tray and the fire in favor of our bed.

I'm pleased to note that the disappearance of Tigger on her chest unleashes her inner wildcat.

We love quietly, but our hearts are like drums when we finally fall into a tangle of limbs and drift off to sleep.

Halloween can bring out the very best and the very worst in people. I'm happy that I am working the day and not the night rotation because by the time my shift ends, the truly idiotic people are filling the emergency room and the only thing I can think about is painting faces in the children's ward. My mother and father readily volunteered to help out and Jasper is bouncing on the balls of his feet when the elevator opens. He rushes toward me with his cape billowing behind him and it strikes me that the last Halloween we had together was when he was eight years old. He had dressed up as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and I had lamented my entire lack of a social life as we walked around the neighborhood together. I didn't dress in costume that night, but he told everyone that I was a movie star. And he gave me all the Smarties from his oversized pumpkin container because those were my favorite.

And that's what he holds out to me as he skids to a stop in front of me. There's a roll of Smarties in his palm and he grins at me, exposing his fake vampire teeth. This is so monumental that I can't say anything. Someone has drawn a widow's peak on his forehead and his skin has been powdered white to make him look like Dracula, but he remembered. I pretend to be scared for his benefit and he attempts to sink his fangs into me, but Gavin saves me at the last moment by presenting Jazz with an oversized sucker. I want to comment on the fact that Jazz remembered Smarties and thank him for being so sweet, but he takes the sucker, bellows 'thank you, Vin', and then runs back down the hallway telling Emma he has a lollipop she can have.

"How are you, Calliope?" Gavin asks, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

He looks utterly ridiculous in the skeleton costume he's wearing ... if it can be called a costume. I'm tempted to touch it to see if it's been painted on because his biceps are bulging all over the place. Glancing down at the other bulges he is proudly displaying makes me think that he would be better suited dancing on a bar while horny women clap for him. "Did you not get the memo about this being a kid's party, Elvis?"

"It's not my fault I'm so well endowed that I can't hide it."

"Ew."

"Why aren't you in costume?"

I point at the gaggle of children who are gearing up to make their rounds. "It's their time."

"Now I feel overdressed." He tugs at the collar of his costume, but it's sitting against him like a second skin. "Let me paint your face."

"What? No!"

"Come on! You need to be festive! If I can parade around here in a leotard then you can -"

"It looks more like a cat suit," I assure him.

"I fill it out well. I saw you looking."

"Whatever." I shake my head and Gavin ... actually ... fills my face with silly string, laughing as my bottom jaw drops open and I take a mouthful of it.

It's rancid and I choke on it.

"IT IS ON!" I sputter, trying to wrestle the can away from him. I succeed in making a jet of string go up his nose as we each grapple for control of the can.

The children are thoroughly amused. I'm aware that they've bull penned us and are laughing like crazy as Gavin and I 'fight' with each other. Random shots of silly string keep going off, some hitting nothing, some decorating the kids and I finally trip him with a carefully placed foot and shove. He drops to his ass and immediately hooks me behind my knee, making me fall beside him. I realize that I have the can just as a little girl dressed as an Indian launches herself at me. Two toddlers follow suit and I'm stuck on the floor, unable to shoot Gavin, while a half dozen tiny hands try to pull the string from my hair.

"You okay, Lee?" I'm stunned when Jasper grips me under the arms and pulls me up. He's strong. I don't think I realized just how strong he is until my feet dangle off the ground for a split second before he lets me go. I think maybe I'm guilty of underestimating him. Again. "You hurt?"

"I'm okay, Jazz." My underarms are throbbing from the death grip he had on me, but I don't tell him that.

Jasper points a finger at Gavin. "You are not supposed to fight with girls! Idiot!"

Daaaaamn. How did he know what an idiot is? It fits Gavin so well.

Gavin gets to his feet and smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, Jasper. It won't happen again."

"It better not!" Jazz tells him, narrowing his eyes menacingly. "My dad is right over there, too, you know!?"

"Yes, I know."

"You behave!" Jasper glares at the Gavin, then turns around and joins the other kids.

Gavin watches my brother with wide eyes, then shoots me a withering look. "I almost got my ass kicked just now."

"Pretty much."

"I'm going to play with the little people. I think they'll appreciate me more."

I shake my head as he shambles down the hallway in his body hugging costume and proceeds to entertain the sick children by trying to steal their candy. If anyone else was doing it ... it would be moderately endearing, but the fact that it's Gavin hoisting Emma into the air and making her 'laugh' does nothing for me. I'm immune to his charm, but I can see that I'm the only one. Izzie, Cristina, and Addison are watching him with their mouth's agape. I sidle up to the nurse's station and lean against it. It takes the three women a few seconds to notice me and when they do ... they all pretend to be engrossed in paperwork.

"Busted," I murmur, helping myself to a piece of chocolate from the oversized dish on the counter. "So busted."

"He's hot," Addison says, casting a glance back at Gavin. "I haven't seen a body like that since -"

"This morning? And you saw a much better one," Mark offers, popping up behind her on the other side of the station. His nod to Halloween is red devil horns and he's painted a black triangle into the stubble on his chin. The smile he gives Addison is broad and charming and I can only shake my head because she has forgotten that anyone else in the room exists at all. It helps that he's holding a fat baby who is dressed in an Eeyore costume and I watch as it latches onto Mark's ear and tugs. Now that is endearing. He contorts his face in pain and the baby giggles like mad, tugging even harder. "Ow! I knew the costume was a cover for something more sinister."

Addison's no longer looking at Gavin. She's watching Mark make faces at the baby and if she wasn't already madly in love with him ... I think this would cause her to fall head over feet. Addison confided in me earlier that Mark is retiring the bedroom suite that I helped him pick out to the guest room. He had chosen (with Addison's help) a large four poster ensemble. That's what he originally wanted with me, too. I'm the one who liked the sleigh bed. I've never been happier about being relegated to 'guest' status in my life. They're happy, Mark and Addison. The only thing better than coming full circle ... is watching someone else do the same.

Cristina catches me watching the two of them and rolls her eyes, elbowing me in the side. "Who's the old guy with Hahn?"

I hear Erica laughing behind me and turn to see her introducing Rick to Chief Webber. The expression on Rick's face makes me think that Webber is pouring it on thick, gushing about his daughter, and then the Chief takes Erica by the elbow and leads her from the hallway. "That's her father."

"Looks like Webber is taking her out of here before she can kill Gavin."

"What do you mean?"

"She didn't like his costume, Callie." Yang gives me a pointed look. "Or the way he was all over you ... if you know what I'm saying."

"Oh. Shit."

"Yeah. You're in it."

"I'll be back."

Rick sees me coming and meets me halfway, beaming. He's handsome. I'll give him that much. He's wearing a black turtleneck under his red jacket and it makes him look almost regal. His blue eyes are darting left and right, taking in the festivities and I don't want to smile at him, but damn it ... it's infectious. This place, these kids, all of it. "Erica was apparently needed in an emergency surgery," he tells me over the cacophony of children's voices. "The physician who is currently working needs a break."

"That's too bad. She was looking forward to participating tonight," I reply, pointing down the hallway at my parents. "My mother and father are here. Would you like to meet them?"

"Certainly, certainly." He drapes an arm over my shoulder and it shouldn't make my skin crawl, but it does.

I'm still picturing Erica's sixteen year old mother being seduced by his charm, by him. She was a child. I can only imagine that seeing wealth when you're used to poverty is overwhelming. As shocked as I was by Erica's childhood homes ... I'm sure it was just as shocking for her mother to see Rick's abundance of material things. I wonder if he wooed her with the promise of something ... more than what she had. Because anything was more than what she had. I also wonder if it was the breaking of those promises Rick made to her that caused Erica's mother to turn to the only other solace she knew: drugs and alcohol. I wonder if her mother went to her grave feeling duped, played by a powerful judge with intriguing blue eyes.

My father warned Erica about Latin lovers.

Whose place is it to warn her about Rick? Mine? Do I want that role?

"My grandkids would love this," he continues, unaware of my internal dialogue. "It's too bad they can't be here to join in."

"Erica told me all about them. They sound amazing."

"They're my life." He pats my arm jovially, adding, "Erica said that the two of you have every intention of having a family of your own. I'm glad that you haven't let your lifestyle rob you of all normalcy in that regard."

I stiffen and try to stop walking, but he's still guiding me. "What is that supposed to mean?"

My mother hears my voice and turns around before he can answer. She stands on her tiptoes, hugging me, and I think maybe working with the kids today has given her new purpose. She's glowing. "Hi, baby," she says, reaching out to take my hand. "I understand now why you say that this is the best time of year in the hospital."

My dad joins us in time for me to make the introductions and I watch him greet Rick, pumping his hand with both of his like they're long lost friends. Mom greets him in the refined Southern way that she never could breed into me. She extends her hand and practically swoons when Rick plants a kiss on the back of it. My father's eyes narrow slightly and I can't help but think that jealousy is as constant as love no matter how many years you spend together.

I look around for Jasper but he's at the far end of the hallway with Emma so I don't interrupt him. Instead, I kneel down and paint cat whiskers on a little girl's face and stand back to watch the progression begin. The children are practically vibrating with anticipation as Cristina turns up scary music. It's hard to remember that these kids are sick and that some of them won't be here next year at all because they're all so alive in this moment.

It's magic.

I take a ton of pictures with my cell phone and I notice that Mom is doing the same while Rick talks to my father about ... whatever it is that old men talk about. They're both thoroughly amused with one another and their rich hearty laughter causes me to envision the two of them laughing with a little boy that Erica and I created or arguing over who gets to dance with our little girl at her birthday party.

Rick catches my eye and winks at me.

I look away ... determined not to fall under his spell.

It's Webber who makes the suggestion of taking Erica's father to the gallery so that he can see Seattle's premiere cardio surgeon in action. I happen to know Erica well enough to know that she wouldn't particularly like that, but I can't back out of it because Rick is eager to watch. I count my lucky stars when we sit down and the surgery is wrapping up. George is working with Erica and she is asking him a litany of tough questions that would make me nervous, but he has ready answers for her. If she's impressed with his knowledge she doesn't let on and I can tell that Rick is blown away with the way that she commands her operating room. His eyes move back and forth between her and the monitor on the wall that shows a close up of her hands.

The observation deck is empty except for the two of us and I shift in my seat a little when I realize that I'm suddenly more interesting to him than his own daughter. "What?"

He leans forward just a little, just enough for me to smell the bitterness of stale cognac on his breath. "You don't like me very much."

It's a statement, not a question. I meet his eyes, undaunted. "You haven't given me a lot of reason to like you, Rick."

"Do you always judge people before you get to know them?"

"I'd say your reputation preceded you."

"I see." He gives me a cocky smile. "You are perhaps referring to the background investigation you had performed on me?"

"I am perhaps referring to the fact that you abandoned your daughter and the child that you had impregnated."

"It was a different time back then. It was -"

"It was gross. And wrong."

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. A lot of people would call your lifestyle the same."

I narrow my eyes. "People who speak in clichés do so because they don't have anything original to say. Or because they have something to hide."

"I have nothing to hide. You saw to that by having your family investigate me. And just for the record ... I think it would behoove you to extend a little bit of courtesy to me. I haven't done anything to you. And if Erica can be polite to your mother then you can do the same for me."

I gasp. "What are you -"

"She told me everything about your life together." Rick looks down into the operating room and waves at Erica. She lifts her hand in response and I can see that she's smiling up at us. "She loves you very much and your obvious dislike of me is troubling her. It would be easier for everyone if you would meet me halfway."

"Halfway to what exactly? What are your plans? Do they include her? Finally?"

His brow creases and it's so much like Erica's expression of aggravation that I risk glancing down at her again and see that her own forehead mirrors his. She knows that we're trading something heavy up here. "I can't make up for lost time. I can't. And knowing the woman that she is now makes me regret all these years more than you will ever know. I don't have enough life left in me to offer to make it all up to her because I won't live that long. My plans for the future include her and I'd like very much for them to include you as well."

I don't pull away when he reaches out and takes my hand. He covers it with his, rubbing my fingers with his thumb. I glance down at Erica again and she's still watching us intently as George stitches up their patient. "If you hurt her -"

"If I hurt her ... I will readily surrender to the massive bone crushing you will deliver. I'm still properly chastened."

He's not smiling, despite the joking lilt in his voice.

I let my eyes move over his weathered, wrinkled face for a few moments before I speak. "When we were in Nebraska and she visited her adoptive parent's gravesite ... she fell apart. She said that she was a good kid and they only regarded her as a burden. They didn't want her. They didn't take care of her or provide for her. They let her exist, but they didn't let her live. They killed her every day.

"I don't know what that's like, Rick. I had a great family growing up. But I am trying to make up for lost time. I'm trying to love her and protect her enough to make up for what they did to her. You're in a position where you hold all the cards and you can destroy her the same way they did. So you'll have to forgive me if I don't like you very much. I think you're a reminder of what she COULD have had if you had been a man."

"A man like the one that you were roughhousing with in the hallway? Most people in a committed relationship wouldn't do that."

"I'm not most people."

"You're also not gay, according to Erica. Or, you weren't. You were married and had a long term boyfriend after that. I could look at you and say that YOU are holding all the cards and that YOU stand poised to hurt Erica more than I ever could."

"Don't talk to me about my personal life."

"Don't try to dig up dirt in mine."

Damn. "Touché."

"Never argue with a judge, Callie." His eyes crinkle around the edges when he smiles at me. "We're always right."

"Never argue with a Cuban. We are, too." I surrender the barest shadow of a smile. "I don't want to win this, though. I don't want to be right in worrying that you'll screw up."

"I can assure you ... Erica is in safe hands with me."

The hand he's referring to is still on mine and he squeezes it tenderly as he looks up at the monitor again to watch his daughter's finish the surgery.

I wish there was a litmus test for character.

Because I still look at him and want him gone.

I don't know what's wrong with me.

When Erica heads into the scrub room after her surgery, I lead Rick down the gallery stairs and into the hallway. I'm about to offer him a trip to the cafeteria to see if there's any coffee flavored mud left over when Jasper barrels through the stairwell door and causes it to slam against the wall. He's laughing riotously and the fake blood on his mouth is slick with spittle. He looks behind him and shrieks with glee when Gavin emerges from the stairwell looking winded. Jazz spots me, extends his arms, and runs toward me at breakneck speed while saying, "He's gonna get me!"

I brace myself because Jazz isn't slowing down, but when he crashes into me I still lose my balance. Actually, my balance is forsaken entirely and I go airborne. I slam into Rick, who collides with a cart and then drops backwards onto the floor. My own landing is incredible... in that teeth jarring, ground shaking way that knocks the breath out of your body. I feel like a rag doll as I crash to the ground and take stock of myself. Lungs? Empty. Hip? Throbbing. Wrist? Aching. Pride? Dead. What hurts the most is my knee and when I look down, I realize that I've gotten up close and personal with a prescription bottle. I reach for it at the same moment that Rick does and our hands touch. He snatches it from under my fingertips and stuffs it into the front of his jacket so quickly that it's like it was never there at all.

Jasper is on me in a flash, tugging at me, trying to pull me upright. My entire skeletal system feels like it has been misaligned as he wrestles me to my feet. "Sorry, Lee! I'm sorry!" he cries pitifully, wringing his hands. "I didn't mean to."

"Well, young man," Rick growls. He levels steel blue eyes at Jasper as he rises. "If you weren't running all over the hospital acting like a mongoloid this could have been avoided. Why are you dressed like a vampire when you're determined to behave like a retard?"

An out of body experience. That's what I'm having.

For the first time in my life ... I'm speechless.

I absolutely have nothing to say.

Words are impossible because my brain has turned to mush. So I stand there with my mouth slightly agape, my heart ajar, my nervous system shocked thoroughly ... and do nothing.

"I am not a retard," Jasper finally says. "Dirk fixed my head."

"Ask for a refund," Rick growls, smoothing his palms over his sleeves to work out the wrinkles.

So help me God ... his neck could break so easily. I know it would. I've never done it before, but I'm pretty sure that I'm furious enough to manage snapping it with sheer will power alone. If mental images could come to fruition ... I'm seeing his rib cage fly out of his chest and pummel him about the head. My mother used to say 'gobsmacked'. She would say that overwhelming events left her 'gobsmacked' and I've never fully appreciated that term until right now. Violent, angry words begin to take shape in my head and I open up my mouth to unleash the floodgates, but Jasper says, "Yellow! Hi, Yellow, hi!"

I hear Erica laugh and I don't have to turn around to know that he's launched himself at her, though more docilely now from the sounds of it. When she steps into the spot beside me, she's beaming and I have to look away.

"Did you enjoy the surgery, Dad?" she asks.

"It was incredible, honey." He reaches past me to hug her. "You're incredible."

They break apart and she's got an enormous smile on her face. Jasper puts his hands on his hips and cocks his head just so, clearly perplexed. "Who is he?" he demands of Gavin, who shrugs.

Erica looks at me. "You didn't introduce them? Dad, this is Callie's brother Jasper. Jazz, this is my dad."

I watch Rick's mouth drop open as realization dawns on him. It takes him several seconds to extend his hand toward Jazz, but Jasper Torres is having none of it. He stares down at Rick's hand like it's covered in shit. "I don't think so, Mister Dad! I don't like you."

"Jasper!" Erica scolds and it's her turn to look scandalized and her hands go to her hips now. "What in the world is -"

"Leave him alone," I cut her off, my eyes staying on my baby brother. He knows. Jazz know that he's different now. It's written all over his face. "He happens to be a good judge of character." To Rick, I add, "Fuck you, Judge."

"Yeah, fuck you, Pudge!" Jasper sticks his tongue out at him and turns around. To Gavin, he says, "I go back to my bed now."

I don't know what to do with myself and even if I did ... it's not possible to walk through the heavy tension around us.

Luckily I don't have to worry about it long.

Gavin reaches around Erica, grips my wrist, and pulls me through the tension. To his credit, he mumbles something about a consult.

To my credit, I refrain from reminding him I'm off duty.

I want to be far, far away from Rick Salinger.

Even though Addison thinks I'd flourish in jail, I don't.

My parents are gone for the night when I help Jazz into his pajamas. My brother is as silent a stone as I wash his face and hands. He takes the toothbrush from me and squeezes toothpaste onto it before I can. He puts half of the tube on the handle and the bristles, but I don't correct him. Instead, I sit down on the toilet and watch him work it back and forth and up and down in his mouth until he looks like a rabid dog and the sink is covered in foam. He rinses and pulls the long sleeve of his pajama shirt over his mouth instead of using the towel. Only when he sees the mess on his sleeve does he react. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Lee. I'm sorry."

Something in his voice chases away the murderous thoughts in my head and I stand up, realizing that he's shaking. I take the towel and mop up his sleeve, then I cup his face in both of my hands. "You don't have to be sorry. Ever. It's okay, buddy."

It's the first time I've ever noticed that we cry the same way. His chin is like mine when it starts to tremble. It wrinkles a little, his bottom lip quivers, and his nose gets bright red so fast that it looks like it has been pinched. Color floods his face as the first tears drop over his impossibly long eyelashes and they have a scalding effect on me when I brush them away. He catches my hand and holds it, squeezing it tight. "Where did I go, Lee? Why is my head broke?"

I wet a washcloth to buy myself some time. My parents haven't broached this topic with him. Whether it's because it hasn't come up or because they wanted to shelter him as much as possible ... I don't know. What I do know is that realization is never a pleasant feeling and the way he squirms as I bathe his face again makes me think that he's suffocating under the harsh reality of being broken. Most people have the capacity to understand their defects accordingly. Jasper is only grappling with it now. I weigh my options as carefully as possible, before saying, "You were in an accident. You fell into the water and drowned, Jasper. It damaged parts of your brain, but Derek is repairing those parts every day. You're going to be okay."

"I retard."

"You're not retarded."

"Stupid. I - I am stupid. I knock you down. I hurt you."

"I knocked you down one time when you broke my Walkman. We're all stupid. All the time."

He rubs his palm over his head, massaging the curved scar on his scalp with his fingers. He's gentle at first and then more insistent as he rakes his nails over the indentation. "I'm stupid. All the time."

I grab his hand, clinging to it. "No, that's not what I meant. You're not stupid, Jazzy. And you're not retarded. You're sick and that's why you're in the hospital. That's why they're helping you. You will be just fine. I promise."

His fingers are slick in mine because his palms are sweaty and I notice that there's moisture gathering at his hairline and on his upper lip. I adjust my grip on his hand and feel the pulse in his wrist. It's racing. I knew it would be. I wet the cloth again, this time with cold water, and rub it against his skin, then the back of his neck. He lets me do it for all of three seconds, then he slaps my hand away so hard that it jams my thumb, grabs the cloth, and throws it across the small bathroom. Before I can stop him, the shower curtain is wrenched from its rod and stomped thoroughly on the floor. "I HATE IT!" Jasper screams, reaching for the mirror. "I HATE ME!"

"JASPER! STOP!"

"Callie! Open the door!"

That's Gavin. I unlock the door at the precise moment that the mirror comes off the wall and shatters right over my head. I feel glass raining against me like a hail of bullets and duck, lifting my arms for cover until the only sound in the room is Jasper screeching and Gavin's sneakers squeaking against the tile as he wrestles with him.

Some things in life are like a bad sitcom. This? It's a horror movie. There's blood splashed against the walls from Jasper's hands and my sneaker hits a wet spot sending me sliding down in glass, which adds more blood to the picture. I don't register that I'm hurt because the pain in my leg is only a bee sting when I hear a choking, rasping sound and look up.

Jasper's face is white.

His eyes are rolled back in his head.

And he's thrashing like a fish out of water as Gavin pulls him past me.

Seizure, my brain screams. Seizure! Seizure!

I push myself up, ignoring the shards of mirror that collect in my palm as I do so, thankful that the physician I became is stronger than the sister that I want to always be.

Jasper has been thoroughly medicated and stabilized before I call my parents. This needed to be my private hell, I think. What it boils down to ... is that I pushed for this surgery. I wanted it. I craved it the way I craved Erica for so long. And part of me knew that the moment would come that Jasper would know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was not like everyone else. It's fair that I'm the one who witnessed that mountain bury him and the aftershocks of the earthquake that came next. I brought this on all of us. I brought this on Jasper.

I leave blood smeared all over the phone as I hang up and when I turn around, Gavin is right behind me. There's a metal cart between us and he has laden it down with the tools he will need to extract the glass from my skin. Jasper and his bed have been wheeled to radiology so that a scan of his head can performed and Derek is en route to the hospital; I paged him myself. There's nothing left to do except wait and worry and wither. That's what I do. I wither away from reality for a few seconds, closing my eyes as I try to wrap my head around what has taken place.

I can't.

It's futile to try.

Gavin snaps his gloves in place and I'm sure he does it to draw me back to reality. "Are you okay, Callie?"

I shake my head, but I say, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Don't lie to your superiors."

"Superior, my ass."

He grins at me and switches the lights on a little brighter, gesturing for my hands. I hold them both out, palms up, and he hisses. I say nothing as he fills a syringe with sterile fluid and flushes the blood off. "Hold still."

"Shouldn't I be sitting down for this?" I ask him.

"Only if you want the glass that's in your leg to go deeper."

I shift my weight from side to side and feel it now. My adrenalin rush had prevented me from realizing that there's something foreign in my body. Hell, right now ... I feel foreign in my body. "Oh."

"Yeah." He bends over my hands and sets to work, carefully extracting all the slivers and dropping them into a basin. "That thing with Erica's father ... that was messed up."

"I know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"I've always felt that people without souls are the only ones capable of saying things like that around people as innocent as your brother. If you change your mind and want to talk about it ... I'm around."

He doesn't look at me when he says it and I have to grit my teeth to keep from swearing as he flushes the cuts again, then presses to make sure he's got all the debris cleared. The wounds are superficial but what Gavin says about my brother is anything but. It dawns on me as he pulls yet another shard of glass out of my palm that Gavin may actually be human. Before I can wrap my head around that, he tells me that I won't need stitches and how disappointing that is. I'm smiling just a little when he bandages my palms with thick white gauze and secures it. "Thanks," I mutter, flexing my fingers around the uncomfortable binding. "It's overkill, but I'll live."

"Drop your pants."

"What?"

"I need to look at your leg."

"Shit."

"Please don't."

My scrubs are tattered when I pull my pants leg around to survey the damage. Instead of tugging them down, I hook one of the larger holes and tug, tearing the thin fabric easily. Gavin shakes his head, but he's grinning when he kneels down behind me and examines the cuts. "Yay," he finally says. "Do you want staples or stitches?"

"You're lying ... OW! God dammit!" I look behind me and he's holding up a jagged piece of the mirror. I can tell by the blood staining on one end that it was embedded pretty far into my leg. "Jesus! Warn somebody first!"

"It hurts less if you don't see it coming."

"THAT ONLY WORKS IN ORTHO, ELVIS!"

"You need about ten stitches."

"Fuck you! Use the Dermabond."

"It's too jagged. Dermabond won't hold it properly and you'll scar to high heaven."

"I hate you."

"Careful, Calliope. Your attitude directly reflects how generously I numb this before I start sewing."

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"You're right. I am. Now, hold still."

I can feel him cleaning the wound and try not to think about the fact that he's seeing a side of me that Simmons NEVER saw when he was the head of orthopedics. "Why were you chasing Jasper?"

"It's a game we play," Gavin tells me. "A few nights ago he came out into the hallway and asked me for something to drink. I got him a soda and he followed me around saying 'tag, you're it' until I finally turned around and chased him back down the hall. He's a good kid."

"He's not a kid. He's twenty five years old."

"And he's getting better. Everyone can see it. What one person CAN'T see doesn't diminish what IS. Don't forget that."

"I really can't believe -"

"What?"

"Erica's dad. I just met the man a couple days ago. Hell, Erica just met the man a couple of days ago. What kind of person says something like that?"

"Soulless ones. I already covered that."

"This sucks."

The door opens behind us and I glance over my shoulder at Erica. The flaring in her nostrils vanishes the second she takes in the situation. Her arms, which are crossed over her chest, flutter clumsily to her sides and her mouth goes slack when Gavin moves to one side and exposes my leg. "What happened!?"

"Hello, Dr. Hahn," Gavin greets, applying more pressure to my thigh. I can feel blood running down my leg and into my shoe now that he's pulled the mirror from me. "Could you please hand me the

lidocaine?"

"What happened!?" she demands again, ignoring the request entirely.

"Jasper had a seizure." I shift my weight uncomfortably as Gavin holds the compress against me. "After he had a tantrum."

"Jasper did this!? What -"

"Dr. Hahn!" Gavin barks, his voice loud and full of authority. "If you cannot assist me then please press the call button so that I can ask for a nurse."

Erica picks up the lidocaine injection and stalks forward. "Move. I've got this."

"No, ma'am, I think you're mistaken. I've got this."

I see the telltale warning signs of Erica's temper. Her mouth becomes a tight line, the dimple appears in the chin that she lifts defiantly in the air, and her blue eyes narrow just a little. It's the look a lion gets before it pounces on the wildebeest and rips the jugular out with one bite. "Excuse me -"

"No, excuse me," Gavin interrupts, holding out his hand for the shot. "Perhaps you can throw your weight around in your operating room and perhaps you believe the hype that surrounds your specialty and think that you're somehow superior to me, but I don't. And as I've already stated, I've got this under control. If you want to remain and assist me, silently I might add, then have at it. But I'll have to ask you to leave if you hinder me in treating her. Now, give me the lidocaine and let me repair the damage."

She thinks about ramming it in his eye. I can tell. And I hold my breath until the medication is surrendered to him because I know Erica. She's scary. Before I can contemplate any commentary on Jasper or my current predicament, Gavin begins injecting me with liquid venom and it burns enough to evaporate conscious thought processing for me. I happily turn back to the wall and rest my head against it. When I lean back, I feel something wet there, and move one of my unbandaged fingers to the back of my scalp. Yep, bleeding there too. It shouldn't surprise me that I am, Jasper did hit the wall right over my head with a mirror, but the discovery of the blood there shocks me as much as Jasper's outburst did. My first instinct is to ignore the blood and let the gash there be my punishment for Jasper's seizure, but Erica sees my finger and moves me away from the wall.

She looks at the gash on the back of my head and before I know it, she's put on gloves and has a pair of tweezers in her hand. She removes a single shard of glass from my skin and gazes down at it, then looks at me. "You couldn't know this would happen, Callie." And just like that, Erica has read my every thought and fear, and she's taken some of the pain out of the situation.

"He was, god ... Erica, he was scary."

"Everyone is," she replies softly, holding a ball of gauze against the back of my head. "It's okay."

Relationships are hard. It's not just romantic entanglements that can drive you crazy. My mother has been driving me insane for months while she vacillates over whether or not she can accept Erica's place in my life. And what Rick said in the gallery is right. Erica has gone out of her way to accommodate my mother and all of her mood swings. Erica has pushed me to understand where my mother is coming from and encouraged me to meet her halfway. Hell, at one point she lifted my hand and put it in my mother's and I can't forget that. Even while I contemplate the many ways I could repay Rick for what he said to Jazz ... the fact that he's her father is at the forefront of my mind. And that is the most complicated thing I've experienced in a long time.

Erica finally moves beside me, rubbing a hand over my back. "What happened before the seizure?"

"He was tachycardic and presented with -"

"No, Callie," Erica cuts me off. "What happened in the hallway with Dad?"

I grit my teeth against the burn as Gavin moves the needle into another tender spot and dispenses more acid under my skin. "This really isn't the best time to -"

"Just tell me."

"We'll talk about it later."

"Did he say something to you in the gallery? You looked upset."

"We said a lot of stuff. OW! God! You're doing that on purpose, Elvis!"

"Yes, because I invented lidocaine," he replies. "Stop moving around."

"Hurry up!" I never expected that this would be the end to my day. My mind wanders back six years, to the moment that Colby Bernson walked into my life with his bone cancer and desire to trick or treat. Jasper got to trick or treat one last time. If he dies ... at least he -

"Am I sending Dad to the Archfield or not?" Erica demands suddenly. "Help me out here, Callie!"

"Send him to Siberia," Gavin suggests, readying the suturing kit. "I'll pay the airfare."

Erica looks down at him briefly and then glares at me. "You'll talk to him, but not me."

"She didn't have to talk to me. I was there for it. You're gonna feel some pressure, Cal," Gavin says, pulling my flesh together as he sets to work. "Trust me, Dr. Hahn, the Archfield is too nice for him."

"Mind your own damn business," Erica demands. She takes a deep breath and pushes my hair over my shoulder so she can see me better. "What do you want me to do?"

What I want her to do could get me sent to prison for even suggesting it, so I shake my head in an attempt to clear it. "I don't know, Erica. Jasper ... this - this could be a huge setback for him. This could be fatal. Under the circumstances, I don't care where your father sleeps tonight."

The doors open again and my parents arrive. They're both still in their pajamas and I can't remember what I must have said to bring them here this way. Apparently it was succinct enough to lure them without preamble on their parts. It's mayhem for the next five minutes as I try to explain to my family that Jasper is now very, very aware that he's different. When my leg is bandaged and my mental state is close to certifiable, Derek shows up and asks us to follow him to the family room.

The janitorial department has arrived in full force to clean up the wreckage and I'm sure they get an eyeful when I walk past them. There's definitely a draft in the back of my pants, but I really don't care. Erica has the presence of mind to pick up a hospital gown and open it, urging me to slip it on to preserve my modesty and I oblige as we walk down the hall. She gently cradles my hand in hers and I notice that Rick is sitting in the waiting room as we head past it. He looks up, but doesn't rise.

Maybe Erica shot him down.

I don't know.

I'm trying to force myself to think of anything other than what Derek COULD say at this point.

You're really only led to the family room for the most dire situations and I hold my breath as we all file in ... like pigs going to slaughter.

Derek can take us all out with one bullet.

I hope he's merciful ... whatever he needs to tell us.