One Heart Too Many

by Chelle Storey-Daniel

What happens when a man steps up and offers you everything you've ever wanted at the same time that a woman does? What happens when you're feeling things that you've never felt before and you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

39. Chapter 39

*~*~*~*~

"Baby, dinner's ready."

I stare at the clock on the nightstand. It's just after seven in the evening and my shift ended two hours ago. The pillow under my head is flat and really needs to be plumped, but I don't have the energy to do it. For two hours ... I haven't moved. Not one muscle. Not one inch. Not at all. The digital numbers change and I watch the half hour arrive with all the fanfare of the past three days. None. Nothing happens. I simply breathe. Seventy two hours hasn't changed the fact that my parents have given up on Jasper.

This is what I do: I come home from work and I lie on the bed waiting for the world to change. But it's not going to. In fourteen hours, Jasper will be discharged from Seattle Grace and sent to Rachel's clinic. Erica has shown me the webpage. She's brought me fliers, letters of recommendation, and photo albums from the attic that show all the patients smiling and waving at the camera. Jazz isn't among them. I don't want Jazz to be among them. The only reason I know the date and time that he's leaving is because my mother texted it to me. We're not speaking. I look through my parents if I see them in the hallway and I avoid Jasper's floor at all cost.

I avoid Jasper.

Just like I did when it first happened.

The bed creaks behind me and Erica's arm snakes around my waist. She presses her body against mine and rests her cheek against my hair. "Come and eat with me, Callie. I made your mother's fried chicken just for you. God help me ... I think she would approve."

"I'm sorry. I don't want anything. I'm not ... hungry."

"A funny thing happened while you were showering at the hospital today."

"Yeah?"

"I saw your name on the surgical board for tomorrow at *precisely* the moment that Jasper will be leaving." Her hand moves over my ribcage as she tugs me a little closer. "I took the liberty of rescheduling it for you."

That gets my attention. My eyes widen and I jerk halfway around so that I can see her. The resolve on her face is startling. "You can't do that!"

"Oh, but I did."

"Erica! My patient has been -"

"Your patient was more than happy to postpone for a day. I verified it with him myself." She reaches up, touching just under my eye. I know what she sees there, what's causing her to cringe. I have dark circles that make me look bruised. "Here's the thing ..."

"I really can't deal with a *thing* right now."

"Well, you're going to."

"I cannot believe you rescheduled my surgery! You would break my hand if I did that to you!"

"I'm not into ortho. I'd stab you in the heart."

"Is that an invitation?"

"I'll answer that after I've said my peace."

"Then get your ... thing ... off your chest and leave me alone."

"Okay, fine. I have held your hand when you cried about the fact that it was your idea to take Jasper out on the boat that day. I have listened to you scream while you punished yourself for giving up on him at first and walking out of his life because you couldn't take seeing him that way. And I have even slapped the shit out of you to pull you out of a drug induced coma ... which, I might add you did to yourself because of Jasper's surgery. What I will *not* do ... is let you have another reason to hate yourself for Jasper. So you *will* be there tomorrow when he's discharged. And you will go with him to the clinic and you will STOP THIS because he needs you and you will never be able to forgive yourself if I tell you he asked for you ... and you weren't there."

I turn away from her, slumping back down on the flattened pillow.

"He is, you know," she continues, undaunted. "Asking for you. Every day. He thinks you're still mad at him about what happened in the bathroom. Three days of not seeing you is getting to him. But you know what? He's so talkative that your mother threatened to try to take his batteries out. She said that his mood has completely changed and I agree. He doesn't stop laughing or asking questions or trying to remember things. Derek has found a great combination of meds to even out the chemicals and -"

"Stop. Talking."

"No."

"I - I'll see him when he comes home."

"What do you think it'll be like for him to be left there ... thinking you're mad at him? He's going to believe he's there because he's *bad*."

"STOP TALKING!"

"NO!"

I start to get up, but she holds firm, weaving her other arm around me and holding on tight. "Avoiding him isn't *goodbye*, Lee! Maybe *you* can't stand to see him go, but it's not about you! It's about him! He deserves to hear you tell him that you love him, that you're not mad, that he's going to be okay! You think you're scared!? He's going to be petrified! And you owe it to him to hold his hand!"

"Because it's my fault!?" I ask ... and then I do cry. I haven't yet. Not since the day I demolished the basement of the hospital.

Her cheek goes against my hair again and I feel her breath on my ear. She waits until I sniffle before she speaks. "No. It's not your fault. You owe it to him because he's family. He's Jazz. And you're his buddy."

That final word makes my heart strings play something so catastrophic that I can barely breathe. "I can't do it. I can't."

"You can. Let him lean on you and you can lean on me." She presses her lips against the tender skin of my neck and lingers there. It's a whisper soft touch that sends a shiver through me, echoing her love through every inch of me. My heart strings play another song now, something entirely original, her own composition. It's deafening.

It calms me instantly. One thing that I never want to trade is the ability Erica has to quell my tension with just a touch. It's grounding. It's being on a rocking boat, one that nearly killed me and robbed my brother of fifteen years, and then seeing a lighthouse in the harbor. It's that light, shining on me, filling me with clarity that I've seldom experienced on my own ... much less with the help of anyone else. Slowly, I roll over and face her. She gives me a sweet, solemn kiss. When she moves back a little, I trace her lips with my fingers, then move to the curve of her jaw.

I'm not crying now.

Mostly ... I'm thinking of *her*.

"You're so beautiful," I say, pushing a rogue curl off her forehead. It's that untamable lock of hair that seems to have a mind of its own. Whether she runs a flat iron over it or not, it will lift up and away from her head and then start to spiral by the end of the day. It's a perfect flaw, an irresistible chink her armor. It's as much a part of her as she is a part of me. I'd never be able to iron her out of my life either. I'm curled all over because of her. "I don't really want dinner right now."

The knowing look that appears on her face coincides with me sliding my hand under the front of her shirt. "No? Are you sure? I bought the plumpest chicken breasts that the market had."

I cup *her* breast, massaging her nipple through her bra. "They don't compare."

She doesn't complain when I throw a leg over her and push her onto her back.

I lean.

She lets me.

*~*~*~*~

Hospitals are sterile environments. No matter how much blood is spilled on the floor or vomit splashes the walls, there's always someone there to clean the mess. What can't be cleaned from the hospital is the reverberation of sobs when you tell a person that their loved one has died. You can't clean away the tears that soak through the very foundation of the building and you can't rinse the stains of a broken heart from yourself. That, more than anything, is what I feel when Gavin and I exit the quiet room where a family is coming to terms with their pain. The door shuts on a wail that rattles through me with the force of a screen door in a hurricane and I think of the irony of calling it a quiet room when it's anything but. That room ... is the same one that I professed my love to Erica in after my surgery, after she had sliced me open and healed me. I didn't scream that day, but I don't think I needed to. Those walls absorbed my agony even though it was a quiet declaration all around. From both of us.

Sometimes it's the quiet pain that it really the loudest. She blew my eardrums that day.

"I noticed that you rescheduled your surgery for this morning," Gavin says as we head back toward the emergency room.

"Yeah. Jasper is being released today."

"Wouldn't have sucked for you to clear it with me."

"Sorry. It won't happen again."

He reaches out, resting his hand on my arm. "Who are you and what have you done with Calliope?"

"What?"

"You're not going to be sarcastic about clearing it with me? I hate this. I want the snark back."

I chuckle a little. "Fine. I'll clear it with you when you get a life."

"That was weak. I'm disappointed." He stops walking and leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. It's one of those things people do that makes it clear they're not finished speaking to you.

Even though I take a few steps away from him ... I turn around and go back when he pointedly clears his throat. "Elvis, have you ever wished for something and then when you get it ... you want to give it back?"

"No. I'm perfectly happy with being so painfully attractive, talented, and skilled. I'm incredible."

"Ass."

"I'm also a very good listener and I suppose it's my job as your boss -"

"You're not the boss of me!"

"Great, Cal, you're sullen *and* four years old. This regression is startling. You were easily eight years old last week."

"This coming from an eternal twelve year old on the cusp of puberty. Did you actually create a single's support group at the hospital, Gavin? Seriously? Are you scared of women or what?"

"What better place to *meet* women than at a single's support group that *I* was sensitive enough, charming enough, and endearing enough to mastermind? I'm their hero now. They think I'm *tender*."

"I think you're an idiot."

"Well, you're not single so you don't count." He shrugs nonchalantly, waving his hand. "And speaking of not being single, what did your girl do to the jackass who was walking around here Halloween night pretending to be a man? Is her father still breathing?"

"I didn't tell her what he said."

Gavin's bottom jaw drops open. "Shit! You're like a bona fide Harry Potter secret keeper."

"And you better be, too. I don't want her to know. It'll just upset her."

"Fine. If I have to keep a secret then you owe me."

"What the hell do I owe *you*?"

"Yang's phone number."

It's my turn to let my jaw scrape the floor. I gasp, stunned. "You like *Yang*!?"

"So?"

"*Yang*!?!"

"I like her ego. She's too good for my single's group even though she's clearly single and I've put four fliers on her car. I'm not used to being resistible." He gives me a cocky grin. "And she hates ortho, but she still sat through Count Dracula telling us about Emma's surgery to impress me. Eager is good. In bed. I bet she has no problem sitting -"

"Gross! I never want to think of *you* near a bed. Especially not with my not friend in the vicinity."

"What's a not friend?"

"Yang!"

"What?"

I turn around in time to see Cristina standing a few feet behind us. She's holding a clipboard and a stopwatch and I know she's putting her interns through their paces today. I watch her blow a wisp of hair out of her face and glance at Gavin, who is watching her closely. His eyes move over her face the same way that Erica's move over mine. I clear my throat and say, "Gavin wants your phone number. He's horny and thinks you'd be eager in bed because you're eager in the OR. Apparently sex can be equated to suturing in his world."

The clipboard in Cristina's hand clatters to the floor.

Gavin sputters.

I win at life.

*~*~*~*~

Along with being sterile, hospitals are also plentiful in hiding places. I've mapped every nook and cranny of Seattle Grace. When I'm angry, I go to the basement and stalk around because I find a measure of peace in the place I used to live. I take to the roof when I'm working on a hard case because watching the city pulsate beneath me reminds me of vitality and why living matters. When I need to be alone, I head into linen closets, supply closets, and occasionally hide behind an oversized refrigerator in the cafeteria because I can steal pastries really easily from there. Of course I haven't been back to that particular spot since someone tried to move the refrigerator out of the way and nearly squashed me in the process. The head cafeteria lady is possibly scarier than Bailey *and* Erica on their worst days.

Unfortunately, between Erica, Mark, and Addison ... they know all of my favorite places to be alone and rarely let me do that.

It's Mark who finds me sitting in the fourth floor linen closet as Jasper's discharge time approaches. He takes one look at me and holds out his coffee cup. I accept it as he sits down on the floor next to me. Taking a sip, I grimace. "If you're not going to load it with sugar and cream, then at least put a shot of tequila in it before you give it to me."

"That bad, huh?"

I nod, give him back the cup, and watch him rub patterns on it with his thumbs. Neither of us speak for a while and I realize that I've never had a problem being alone with Mark. Even at our worst he was able to afford me a level of comfort, of protection, that I really only ever experienced with my dad. Maybe that was my problem with Mark all along. He felt like *family* when he should have been my *lover*. I would take family with him any day of the week as long as he could be there like this. Just comfortable and quiet and there.

"So, here's the thing," he says, holding the cup out to me again. He doesn't speak again until I take it. "Callie, everybody in life has to be rehabilitated at some point. You can't beat yourself up over this. We all have to fix ourselves once in a while."

I'm watching him as he talks to me. His profile is strong, his jaw stubborn. He notices me looking and takes a deep breath before he adds, "You were my rehab. Nobody ever took the time to *teach* me to be a man. Until you. My parents didn't. Addison didn't. I didn't know what real love was until I looked at you and felt it. I did, you know? Every second of the day and I wanted to be what you needed and the thought of that it paying off one day and having you for my wife was all the motivation I needed.

"I'm not mad that you couldn't love me back, Cal. I'm fucking grateful that you let me figure out how to get it *right* with you before I could get it right with Addison. Because I know which mistakes I can't make with her. I know what she needs because you taught me. And Jasper is going to learn to be a man now, too. You have to let him."

I feel my chin tremble and rub my face, trying to hide it. He's not fooled. I know because he puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his chest. "Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Just in case I never told you ... I don't regret what we had. You rehabilitated me, too."

"That's so much nicer to hear than 'you made me gay'."

I laugh and sit up, smiling at him. "Addison's a lucky woman and this baby ... will have one hell of a dad."

He purses his lips and nods. A myriad of emotions flash over his face all at once and I open my mouth to ask him if he's okay, but he cuts me off by saying, "Karev was going to step up and be a father to Stevens' baby. Meredith told me that. I was ready to give up and walk away because I didn't know if it was mine or his, but I'm a man. I'm the man that you made and if I can accept Atilla the Hahn just because she's a part of you then I can accept this baby, even if it's not mine, because it's a part of Addison. That's how I have to look at it. That's how I stay sane."

I cover his hand with mine, squeezing it. "*You* are also a part of Addison. Even if this baby is not yours ... she wants it to be. And that should make all the difference in the world."

"I really do love her."

"I know.

"God, love makes us crazy."

"And gay. Don't forget gay."

He laughs now and I join him.

When I finally make it to Jasper's room five minutes later, Erica is sitting on the foot of the bed letting him comb her hair. I notice two things ... the bandages are gone from his hands and he's wearing a striped button down shirt that is casually rolled at the sleeves and jeans. Gone are the plaid shirts, the khaki pants pulled too high at the waist, and the sneakers on the wrong feet. So help me God, I hated those clothes, but I still mourn for them all the same. This new Jasper is everything I had hoped he would be and as much as I longed for him to evolve into this man ... the boy is gone. The eternal child that I thought would never grow up ... has.

He is so engrossed in pulling the comb through Erica's hair that he doesn't see me right away. It takes the squeaking of the door as I close it to get his attention and when he sees me, the comb flies into the air behind him and he comes running. His limp is still there. Maybe it always will be and as he yanks me against him in a suffocating bear hug, I am grateful that some scars never go away. The limp will be a constant reminder of our last day together when he was a child ... just like the new clothes are a reminder of our future. I press my face against his neck and smell his shaving cream as he rubs my back.

"Guess what, Lee!?" he exclaims, stepping back and taking both of my hands in his. "I getta go to school! Like you did! 'Member? When you left for school and Mama cried?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"No crying! Okay?"

I nod at him. "Okay."

"I'm gonna get real smart like you and work at the hospital and fix kids like Emma and not use that thing Dirk uses 'cause it hurts and I won't hurt nobody. Deal?" He holds out his hand. "You gotta shake on a - a real deal. Dirk said so."

I put my hand in his and he pumps it enthusiastically, causing me to grit my teeth as the cuts in my palm flare up. "Deal."

When he smiles at me ... he's beautiful. He's always been beautiful, but the animation and the vitality in his eyes are new. It's like a light bulb has come on but instead of being too bright and too blinding ... it's just right. He *understands* so much now. Whoever told him he's going to school is either a genius or very cruel. I don't know which yet. Letting my hand go, he smoothes his palm over his shirt and says, "Dyson bought me new stuff. Like it?"

I turn his collar down and nod. Addison has great taste. "I do like it. You're handsome."

He laughs out loud and claps his hand over his mouth. "Handsome!"

Someone taps on the door behind us and I step out of the way as it opens. Izzie Stevens appears with a stack of paperwork and Derek comes in behind her. I only half listen as Derek gives Jazz another cursory exam, listening to his heart, checking his blood pressure, making small talk with him. Erica joins me on my side of the room and I avoid looking at my parents over the bed. That bed and my brother may as well be an endless abyss that I don't have the ability to jump anymore. What's best for Jasper doesn't matter to me as much as the fact that I was not included in the decision to send him away. They made up their minds without my input, without my help, without realizing that it would destroy me wholly and completely.

When it's time to go, Jasper hops off the bed and hugs Derek. I have to give it to Shepherd, he takes it all in stride, clapping him on the back as he tells him to be good. When Jasper hugs Izzie, I watch her close her eyes over his shoulder as she clings to him. I think sometimes we're quick to dismiss people from our lives a little prematurely. Izzie impacted me in all the wrong ways, but impacted my brother in every right way imaginable. There are tears in her eyes when she steps back, cups his face, and then kisses his forehead. She leaves without another word and Jazz presses his fingers against the spot she kissed, his eyes wide, his mouth slack. "Wow," he whispers. "Oh ... wow."

I'll kill her.

I'll kill her and drop her body in Elliott Bay.

"Erica, would you mind driving us?" Mom cuts through my murderous thoughts. "I think Callie's SUV will be more comfortable for us than our rental. And you know where this place is."

"I'd love to, Lori Anne." Erica glances at my scrubs. "Do you want to change your clothes, Lee?"

I shake my head. "No. I have paperwork to do later. And a consult so I'll - stay like this."

In actuality, I don't want to put on my street clothes. I'm vulnerable in them. I'm *human* in them. Dressed like this? Like a doctor? I can hide behind medicine and possibly view Jasper as just another patient in the sea that I've encountered. I hope. Oh god ... how I hope. When we head out into the hallway and nurses have gathered with cards and coloring books and a necklace made of computer paper ... I know that I'm not hiding at all. I'm an exposed nerve and everything, even breathing, is pricking me to death. I ache.

Hospitals are not just clean and easy to hide in ... when you work in one it has a tendency to become family. Everyone who knows me has shown up to line the hallways as we head to the elevator. Addison gives Jasper a hug, telling him she loves him and then Mark is there, shaking his hand. Everyone from George to Lexie to Bailey to the Chief has come to say goodbye and any false stoicism I was clinging to is rapidly being stabbed to death. I nearly cry when Lexie pats me on the back and leans close, saying, "I'll buy you a drink at Joe's tonight ... if you want."

"I'll keep that in mind," I tell her. "Thanks."

"Anytime." She watches Meredith give Jasper a stuffed dolphin. "Sure will be lonely around here without him to keep us entertained."

I nod because that's the most I can do.

"Luckily," she adds, "his sister is a lot like him. And just as great to know."

When I smile at her, she winks at me and I follow along behind Jazz as he greets the last of his fan club and we step into the elevator. There's no way that the clinic will feel like this. It can't. These people are my coworkers, they're my friends (some, anyway), and they've fallen in love with Jazz because he's been here so long. It's my greatest hope that he doesn't have to stay at a cold, possibly dirty, and rudimentary *clinic* very long.

I make up my mind to hate it before I've even seen it.

*~*~*~

"The lake is over there, through the trees," Erica is saying.

I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking her to stop being a fucking tour guide. I don't care about lakes or tennis courts or or oversized football fields or even the Olympic swimming pool. The large metallic gates that she opened with a special code could have been pearly and Saint Peter himself could have ushered us all in and I would still shoot him in the ass with a pea shooter. I hate this enough to shoot myself with a pea shooter just to feel something that isn't undiluted mental agony. The premises here may be sprawling and dusted with snow, and Jasper may have screamed out loud when he saw the horses, but it's still *here* and not Miami. It's not *home*.

Sending Jasper here and calling it a school doesn't take away what it IS. It's a place for people who are different. And I've spent fifteen years trying to make sure the world didn't treat him that way.

"HORSES!" Jasper crows again and I hear his seat belt click. A moment later, he appears between the bucket seats between me and Erica, his head low so he can see out the windshield. "I can ride the horses. Right, Yellow."

"Yeah, you can," she assures him, then points ahead of us. "There it is, Jazz. That's the school."

I hear him gasp and instead of looking at the building in front of us, I look at him. When did his jaw get so masculine? When did his five o'clock shadow start appearing at noon? Was he so childlike for so long that I only ever saw him like that? He has a dimple in his cheek from grinning so hard and his smile is so much like my own that I can't help but join him. I finally look back at the building and my eyes widen.

People have a tendency to build an image in their head of something new. Before I went to Italy, I had pretty strong ideas about what it would look and smell like. One trip through the canals in a tiny little gondola shocked that image out of my head, but I would still go back in a heartbeat. Some of it was bad, but most of it was extraordinary and as I gaze at the oversized green *house* at the end of a circular sidewalk ... I'm reminded again of what happens when you rush to judgment. This isn't what I envisioned. I imagined a nondescript brick structure of some kind, almost prison like, with a large fence (probably electrified) and maybe a sandbox in one corner where the patients could get dirty.

But the place I stare at as Erica parks is the complete opposite.

Two stories tall, the clinic is not overly large, but it's homey and welcoming. In fact, a large white sign is hanging from the second story balcony with the words 'Welcome Jasper' written a little crookedly in blue paint. Even from the parking lot, I can see that there are hand prints on it in varying shapes and sizes. Clearly, it was a group effort. Jasper starts telling my dad to let him out the second Erica shuts the engine and when my dad steps out of the way, Jasper bounds out behind him and runs to the sidewalk, staring at his fate. It's cold outside but I don't think he notices. I join him on the sidewalk, my hand on his back. "Jasper -"

"It's pretty! I'm staying here, right? Right?"

"Yeah, you're staying here."

"Are you staying here?"

I shake my head. "No. I can't."

He blinks a few times and then turns to look at our parents, who are wrestling with his suitcases. "Is Mama staying?"

"Mom's not staying either."

"What about Daddy?"

"No, Jazz. Only you. This is *your* school."

He rubs the scar on his scalp, his forehead creasing. "Well, can Yellow stay then?"

His voice is heavy with emotion, thick with a lonesomeness that he's never experienced in his life. For the first time ever, he's going to be by himself. Isn't that sickening? I opened up his head, his mind, and his memories just so he could be left alone with them. I want to grab his hand and run back down the never ending driveway that brought us here. I can't do that, however. What I can do ... is comfort him in a way that I didn't have the strength to do when he was first injured. I lace my fingers through his and rub his arm as I gaze up at him. "You listen to me, Jasper, you don't need any of us here. Not for this. You get to do it on your own and you're going to be just fine. You're strong enough, but I'll come and visit you every chance I get. I will. I'll be here all the time. And you will be okay. I promise."

He cuts his eyes over at me. "I think I said no crying."

"Well, stop making me."

Taking a deep breath, he looks back at the building. "Will there be friends for me here?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay then."

We're halfway down the sidewalk when the doors open and a stream of people come out. Jasper falters just a little, but then Erica is on his other side and loops her arm through his. As soon as the patients see who it is, they come rushing to her and with the same care she had at their party, where she introduced me for the first time, she introduces Jasper. The smile never leaves his face as he shakes one hand after another and answers a ton of questions. One boy that I've never seen before wants to know who cut Jasper's head and Jasper is telling him all about Dirk and his 'bad machine' as the patients lead Jasper into the building, milling around him.

Jim hugs Erica and then turns to me, opening his arms. It's not possible to dislike Jim. He's been so welcoming and when he calls Erica every week ... he asks to speak to me, usually to tell me an off color joke or something I can do to annoy Erica for him. We've had a few dinners with him since the party and he's always got a smile on his face ... Rachel's smile. He gives me a kiss on the cheek and then turns to my parents. He's so genuine that I watch my mother fall under his spell within a matter of seconds and when he assures her that he will take care of her baby ... I know that she wishes she had another daughter she could marry off to him. He leads her into the building while Erica and I help my dad with Jasper's bags.

The interior of the clinic is warm and inviting. The walls of the main foyer are painted yellow and there are photographs that cover almost every inch of the it, from floor to ceiling. It reminds me of Hogwarts, but I keep that to myself and say a silent prayer of relief that the photos are still and no one is moving. I can't take being scared on top of stressed today. We move through the foyer and then down a wide hallway where more photographs line one wall, but a mural decorates the other. Colorful rainbows and animals have been painted all along it and Jasper seems as impressed as I am because he reaches out to touch it, then draws his hand back.

That's when Geneva appears, her black hair pulled away from her ebony skin. She's even more beautiful than I remember from the party, when she sat just a few inches from me and hummed along to the music. Erica said that her boyfriend beat her so much that her brain was damaged. He left her face intact, but robbed her of the ability to play the piano. And that was her life. "You can pet the elephant if you want to," she tells him, resting her own fingers against it. "He don't bite none."

Her fingers are as long and slender as I remember and she giggles when Jasper puts his hand so close to hers that they touch. A moment later, she sees me and says, "CALLIE! ARE YOU HERE TO PLAY THE PIANO!? COME ON! I CAN SHOW YOU!"

She reaches for me, but Erica intercepts her. Very gently, Erica says, "I'm sure that Callie will be happy to play for you in just a few minutes, Geneva, but right now she wants to see Jasper's new room."

"Oh." Geneva looks thoughtful. "Well, can I go, too?"

"You can come!" Jasper tells her and he takes the hand that usually remains rather limp at her side. She doesn't seem to mind and we continue down the hallway.

At the very end, we're led into a large corner room. I gasp at the same time that Jasper does and this time *I* touch the wall. It's like living in the ocean. There are dolphins, whales, starfish, and a huge treasure chest painted on the walls. The bed is covered with a dolphin comforter and the lamp in the corner has boats and anchors on it. Jasper is in heaven. He leaves Geneva standing next to Erica and moves to the middle of the room, holding his arms wide as he spins in a circle. "I remember dolphins on my ceiling, but I like 'em on my wall."

He's thinking of his mural lamp.

I think maybe *I* will need that damn lamp after this.

And to curl into a fetal position and eat my hair.

"There are a few papers to sign," Jim tells my parents. "Why don't you follow me? A nurse will come in and help Jasper unpack."

The nurse in question appears in the doorway and the fact that Geneva greets her with a hug makes me believe that she's not the devil incarnate, but I reserve the right to change my mind.

"Let me show you around," Erica says, looping her arm through mine. "What do you say?"

"Okay." I turn and glance back, watching as Geneva helps Jazz lift his suitcase and the nurse unzips it, exclaiming over a pair of shoes tucked away inside. I'm mourning over the fact that it's not *me* helping him when Erica leads me to a large room that is dominated by a piano. There are chairs set up around it like an orchestra and she points to a wall in the back of the room where black instrument cases are neatly stacked.

"Whatever he wants to learn, they'll try their best to teach him. Geneva is amazing with a tambourine." She doesn't speak for a few seconds, then she points at another door and we go through it. "The art room."

"Jesus," I gasp. The patients apparently enjoy abstract art because the walls, the floor, and all surfaces are splattered with every color in a box of Crayola. The big box. "They're very creative."

"Every couple of months they put on coveralls and the staff helps them scrape all the paint up so they can start again. The walls are not really sheet rock in here. They're a special board that you can clean easily. The floor, too. You won't find a single person here who will put so much as a pencil mark on a wall outside of this room."

I gravitate toward an easel where someone has painted a yellow bus with a throng of little stick figures. A green house is in the background and the word 'hume' as been written at the top. Home. They think of it as home. It revives the hollowness that was starting to diminish. "I don't want him to stay here forever."

She hugs me. "Home is where the heart is, Callie. Be glad that this place is good enough to be welcomed into their hearts. It is, you know? They're going to take care of him here. And we can come out during the week, hell ... every single day if you want. Whatever you want."

"Thank you."

"I can't stand it when you're upset."

"It'll be okay. I know."

"No, you don't. But you will." She takes my hand in hers and nods back the way we came. "Want to see the kitchen?"

"Okay."

Something smells like heaven and Erica greets the staff like long lost friends. She doesn't stop holding my hand as she introduces me as her fiancé and no one bats an eyelash over it. They actually give us warm cookies which I don't mind at all since they're gingerbread and I have a thing for that. I watch her hug a couple of women and thank them for the cookies. One of them tells Erica that I'm pretty and she agrees, making me blush. Next, Erica shows me the cafeteria, which isn't very big, but looks comfortable. We stand in the doorway, not interrupting lunch for the patients inside, and I try to picture Jasper among them, sitting at one of the round tables with new friends. Everyone is laughing inside. Everyone is chattering and eating and *happy*.

Do they even know that there is a big world outside of this place?

Erica finally takes me to a long, rectangular room where blackboards cover every available surface and adult sized desks are lined up neatly in perfect rows. "There are four classrooms. This is the only one in the main house. Behind this there are three trailers where they teach the patients everything from reading and writing to balancing a checkbook and counting money. The goal is never for anyone to STAY here, Callie. They want people to be self sufficient so they can move on."

"Why trailers?"

"Well, budgets and funding are always an issue with a place like this. They outgrew the space before we could afford to remodel."

I file that information away as she shows me the bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs and the staff quarters in the basement. In total, they can rehabilitate forty patients at a time. Right now, there are only twenty two. Jasper, she tells me, got the best room they have. We're coming up from the basement when we meet my parents and Jim in the foyer again. They have apparently gotten a tour of their own and are smiling brightly with the results of it. Mom seems to forget the battle lines that we've drawn because she grasps my hand and says, "Isn't it nice? Oh, Callie, he's going to love it here."

I lean down and hug her. "Yeah, he will."

"And it's so close to your house. You can be right here in a flash if he needs you, sweetheart."

When we pull apart, her eyes are glistening. She clears her throat, studying Erica. "Jim told us about Rachel and ... what happened to her. I'm sorry for your loss. honey. But I'm very glad that you're in our family now. Thank you for this ... Yellow."

Oh. My. God.

Mom just called Erica 'Yellow'.

They meet halfway across the foyer, hugging, and I melt so much that I forget that I'm pissed at my dad and smile at him. He winks at me.

And then ... then the sound of a piano being played fills the building and Jim looks astonished. "Hmm. No one here can - who is -"

We all follow him and I drop my purse when I see Jasper sitting at the piano squinting at an open song book in front of him. He hits a few sour keys, then quickly gets a handle on his fingers. 'Amazing Grace' eventually flows beautifully and when he finishes, he turns and looks at us, beaming with pride. "I played it," he announces. "That was me."

Amazing Grace.

How sweet the sound.

*~*~*~*~

"He didn't cry?" Addison is sitting across from me in a booth at Joe's while Erica and Mark try to beat each other at darts nearby. When I shake my head, she narrows her eyes. "But you did."

"Not yet. I had to go back to work and do some stuff. But I fully intend to cry."

"Look, I'm hormonal as hell so if you plan on doing it any time soon ... don't. I hate sympathy crying and I'll have to do it because you're you and I seem to love you."

I throw a peanut at her and sip my gin and tonic. Lexie delivered it herself the minute I walked in and sat down. She keeps glancing over to see if I need a refill, but I don't. I probably won't. I need to feel life with a clear head if I'm ever going to understand it. Or make peace with it. I crack a nut for myself and chew it slowly. "Jazz played the piano."

"Really?"

"He hated piano lessons growing up. I didn't think he had learned anything at all, but he read the music today. He read the music and he can't even read his name. He - I - maybe I don't know him like I think I do."

"You do know him. Derek just opened up different facets of him. There will be revelations about him from here on out. Anytime you unlock somebody and set them free ... anything can happen." She glances at Mark when she says those last few words. "I think - no - I *know* that things happen for a reason."

"Are you thinking of Alex or Mark?"

"I'm thinking of me." She meets my eyes and shrugs. "What? I'm incubating a child. I can be as self absorbed as I want to be. And I think that me leaving New York and then leaving Seattle gave me perspective. As much as I loved being with Naomi and Sam and not having it rain all the time ... I'm happier here. I'm happy in daily surgeries covered in placenta and blood. I'm happy watching my ex-husband romance a *child* and I'm happy learning new things about you. I knew you wanted Erica the first time I saw you with her. Seems like we all learn a little something new about the people we love every day."

I grin at her. "Oh yeah? What did you learn about Mark today?"

She watches him throw a dart and embed it in the wall. "I learned that he's traded in the Yankees onesie for a Yankees wardrobe and that he's going to turn my kid into the sports fan from hell. And I don't mind."

"A wardrobe?"

She nods. "We have enough 'official team merchandise' to see this baby through the college years. *I* can wear some of it."

"Maybe you should wear it out, Addison. As in ... ruin it. It's possible that this kid won't like baseball."

"Are you kidding? This kid either has Karev's DNA or Sloan's DNA. Either way, I'm going to be clocking a lot of hours in bleachers. I feel it already."

"And you wouldn't change it for the world."

"Well, no. But I can still bitch about it and pretend."

"It is a mother's right."

She laughs. "Speaking of mothers ... how are things with yours?"

"She told Erica she was glad to have her in the family today."

Addison's eyes widen. "No shit?"

"None."

"Did she bump her head?"

"No, I think maybe she opened her mind. Jasper's surgery ... dare I hope that he's not the only one who's learning?"

"I just told you ... we're all learning. All the time. Even Lori Anne." Addison glances at the dart board when Erica starts to laugh at something Mark said. "Erica's pretty amazing. I'd say you did well for yourself, Callie."

"Thank you for making me realize what was there all along, Addison." I lift my glass and hold it in front of me. "To clarity."

"To clarity," Addison says, clicking her water glass to mine. "The best damn feeling in the world."

"No, that would be orgasms."

"True."

I watch Erica throw a dart, knocking Mark's only one off the board. She bends down to pick it up and her pants tighten on her backside, causing me to lick my lips. With nothing but dirty thoughts in my head, I pick up my purse and say, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You're so obvious."

"I know. Hope she notices."

I throw up a hand at Lexie, mouthing 'thanks' for my drink, and pull Erica's coat off the hook. She takes it, regarding me with a curious expression. "Let's go home, Yellow."

"We've only been here an hour."

"So?"

"We really need to do something about your anti-social tendencies."

"I plan on being very, very social actually. With you."

"Fair enough. Let's go."

We leave Mark laughing at our eagerness and I wait until we're outside in the lightly falling snow before I kiss her. Her nose is cold against mine and when we break apart, I rub mine against it. She grips my head and kisses me again, harder and more insistently than before. I slip my arms under her jacket and pull her flush, feeling her body press against mine. It ignites every nerve ending. When we come up for air, I open my mouth to tell her that I love her, but a loud truck rumbles past and hits a puddle of water. It splashes up over my back and I yelp in surprise, but it's not loud enough to drown out the shout from the truck.

"Woo! Lesbians! Fuckin' hot!"

I turn my head in time to see a bearded man leer at us from the passenger window of the truck. Erica stiffens and when I turn back to her, she's watching me closely, waiting for a reaction. I can read it on her face ... she's afraid that I'll freak out.

"What?" I ask, shivering from the water trickling down my back. "We know we're hot."

Her smile is awash with relief, with pride, with love and with glee as she takes her coat off and wraps it around me. "Yeah. We are."

"But I'm also cold as hell."

"Come on. We'll build a fire at home."

"Let's build one in the car." I raise a brow. "I need to get out of this wet shirt anyway."

"I like the way you think."

"Want to like me naked?"

"All day. Every day."

"Prove it."

*~*~*~*~

"You slept with Gavin Cole."

"Oh my god! He told you!?"

I shake my head at Cristina. "No, ass. You're HERE. Volunteering to *sing* at this fucking ... fund raiser thing. Only sex or the promise of someone's insides on the outside would get you here. Especially when these rehearsals drag on this late. And I happen to know that ortho doesn't have any big surgeries coming up."

"Fine. I slept with Gavin Cole. And it was good so shut up." She groans and flips through a music book. "He won't let me sing 'Like A Virgin'. That's what I know."

"He made you feel like a virgin?"

"Touched for the very first time."

"Ew."

"What are you going to sing?"

"Hell if I know. He keeps changing his mind." I flip through my own book. "He wrote a duet and is making me do that with him. Oh, and he suggesting some Celine Dion song that -"

"YOU CAN SING CELINE DION, BUT I CAN'T SING MADONNA!? MADONNA OWNS CELINE!"

Gavin clears his throat and puts his finger over his lips, shushing us. I watch him sit down at the piano he's rented for the big benefit and crack his knuckles. I rub my forehead when George and Lexie start to warble their way through 'Sleigh Ride'. I endure it with minimal damage, but have to hide my face behind the book when they launch into 'Rudolph'. "Santa needs to bring them some buckets to carry a tune in," I mutter. "This was not going to be a Christmas thing when I signed up for it. It's not even Thanksgiving yet and I'm already burned out on all of it."

"Well, he changed his mind. He said that the Halloween thing was so much fun for the kids that he wanted to do something special for them." Cristina hides behind her own book, trying not to laugh when George's voice breaks like Peter Brady's. "And besides, most people are charitable as hell during the holidays. They'll pay these two to shut the fuck up."

"Maybe they should dress as elves and pass the donation plate instead." Addison arrives, clutching a package of crackers and a water bottle. "That's what I'm doing. I can't sing. I can't dance. But I can do a thousand yard death stare at people to make them pay up."

"What are you doing here? Elves don't have to rehearse," I say.

"My patient has been in labor for twenty hours. I have no doubt that she will go into labor the second I get home. So, here I am. Waiting." She offers me a cracker and I take one. "I think I'll give myself a c-section to avoid this."

"Ugh. Baby talk." Yang gets up and walks away, no doubt going to torment Lexie and George over their poor performance. Moral boosting is not Cristina's strongest suit. I think I *will* make her wear pink for the wedding.

"How was Jasper's first week?" Addison asks.

"Good, I think. We went out and spent the day with him yesterday. He already knows all the horses by name and made a thing in pottery that might have been a cup at one time, but now it's a rock."

She laughs. "How are you holding up?"

"It helps that he calls me every night. I talk to him more now than I did when he was at home."

"Are your parents still flying out tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but they're coming back for Thanksgiving. Erica's letting my mother have full reign of the kitchen and you are Mark are invited."

"Thank God. We were going to have to eat McDonald's that day. I hate cooking." She gives me another cracker. "Will Jasper be at your house for Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah. We're getting him the night before. He misses Buddha so Mom's bringing the damn dog again. I'll have to listen to the cats hiss and the dog bark all night."

"Speaking of dogs ... I bought Hope a sweater because she's in and out of the doggie door so much that she *has* to get cold. She's so cute when she's -"

"Addison."

"What?"

"Do I bore you with stories about Ruma and Feo?"

"Well, no. But what can you possibly tell me about them that isn't eclipsed by their ugliness?"

"You fell in love with the dog."

"Your mother was scandalized when I told her that *you* suggested the name 'Hope'. That is your sister in law's name!"

I laugh. "Well, she's a dog a lot of the time. Remember Jasper's birthday?"

"Don't name my dog after bitches! It's rude!" Addy tilts her head to one side, listening to Gavin sing. "He's really good."

"He's okay."

"Just like I have a fondness for my dog ... you have a fondness for Elvis."

"I confess that I only think of maiming him once a day instead of once a minute now."

"I heard a rumor that Emma's going to be performing all of these songs in sign language for the hearing impaired. Is that true?"

"That is true. The documentary crew thought it would be nice to show her doing something for charity. They want to show her being a little girl with a big heart."

"I think that's nice."

A nurse volunteers next and does a nice enough rendition of 'Santa Baby'. Then Miranda Bailey stuns me by singing 'Away In a Manger' so beautifully that I could cry. She does an a capella version of 'Silent Night' and I stand up and clap for her at the end. She bashfully dismisses the small crowd and walks off the stage and then Gavin points at me. "Fuck. Make it twice a day that I think of maiming him."

"Go sing, rockstar! And don't screw up. My patient may go into labor before you're done and I don't want to miss it!"

I trudge to the stage and take the spot that Gavin vacates at the piano. He knows that I'm not happy with the song choices that he's given me. For a second, I contemplate banging out some Fiona Apple just to illustrate how emo this entire thing is making me, but I change my mind. I settle on 'O Holy Night' instead and I don't need the sheet music. Jasper used to make me play it in the middle of summer because he loved it so much. I move over the keys with my eyes closed and I sing it with all that I am.

Everyone stands up when I'm finished and I smile, nodding my head to acknowledge it. Gavin picks up his guitar and says, "Do you want to practice the one I wrote?"

"We've done it a million times. Are you changing that, too?"

"Oooh, cranky."

"I had four surgeries today and I haven't had dinner. Unless you want me to kick your ass, I'd say that we're done."

"Fine. What other song are you singing? Besides 'O Holy Night'?"

"The duet?"

"No, you have to sing three."

"How in the hell did you arrive at that conclusion?"

"Because that's what we need to fill out the show." He glances into the corner where George and Lexie are sitting. "And let's face it ... the good needs to outweigh the absolutely hideous. Please?"

"Dear God ... I didn't know you knew that word."

"Keep talking and you can sing four."

"I'm going home. Good night, Elvis."

"Good night, Calliope." He starts to strum 'Jingle Bells', playing it a little slower than he should as he tunes his guitar.

"By the way, Yang liked it. You should do it again."

I laugh when the guitar hits a note that isn't meant for human ears and walk off the stage.

When I grab my coat, I notice that Erica is standing in the doorway of the auditorium. She's got a smile on her face and I return it easily. It's funny ... if she had asked me to sing for this benefit ... I'd play her a million songs a day. And the fact that she stopped by to listen to me? I feel like I have the biggest fan club in the entire world because even if she's the only one in it ... she *is* the world to me. I wish Addison luck with her patient and hurry across the room when Cristina starts to sing 'Frosty the Snowman'. She warbles it in such a deep, croaking baritone that she sounds like she swallowed all three of the Budweiser frogs.

Erica is laughing hard when I join her and she grabs my hand, pulling me along behind her. When we reach the on call room, she tugs me inside and shuts the door behind her. I watch her toe off her shoes and grin at her. "You can't wait until we get home, Yellow?"

"Nope. Because your *parents* are at our place and I just heard you sing ... which does something below the belt that is neither fair nor unappreciated."

Her shirt winds up on the lamp shade and she's got mine off before I can reply. We fall back on the bed and fumble with our pants until we're finally bare at last. When she slides against me, I lift my hips and sigh into her mouth as one of her thighs moves between mine. I lower my hand and press against her, moving my fingers like I'm playing a piano. "Erica-"

"What are you doing? Oh ... god ... I like it ... whatever it is."

"I'd say I'm tickling the ivory. Wouldn't you?"

She pushes herself up on one elbow and smiles at me. "Well shit. I was planning on buying you a piano for Christmas, but there's no way now. Play me all you want."

"You want to buy me a piano?"

"It's like foreplay. Musical foreplay."

I give her a kiss, stroking her face, and then I put pressure on her shoulders to remove any doubt of where I want her to go. "In that case ... make me sing."

She does.

Oh how she does.

My parents are in the bed by the time we get home. Erica and I sit at the island in the kitchen giggling like teenagers as we eat the casserole that my mother made. We can't stop laughing about the fact that Webber came into the on call room after we were dressed and ready to leave ... and then tripped in his haste to leave, muttering that he was 'sorry, so sorry, ladies'.

We're loading our plates into the dishwasher when Erica's phone vibrates. I wipe down the counter as she digs through her purse to locate her Blackberry. I'm drying my hands when she taps me on the shoulder and holds it out to me. I put the paper towel in the trash and hit the scroll to relight the screen and then I smile.

Jim has sent us the nightly picture of Jasper.

My brother is sitting at the piano the same way I was earlier and his eyes are crinkling with laughter as he looks at Geneva, who is next to him on the bench. I move my thumb over the picture, imagining that I can feel his face, trace his dimple, touch the scar on his head. A picture tells a thousand stories. You need only walk down our hallway to know that. Film inks pieces of your soul, captures your vulnerability, and preserves the best and worst moments in time. Erica's photos from her childhood are hollow and uncomfortable. Mine are exuberant and mischievous.

And I'm no longer looking at a child when I see Jazz now.

It took him fifteen years to spread his wings and fly into adulthood.

It took me just as long to do the same.

Here we both are.

Free at last.

Well, he is.

I still have to fucking sing, don't I?

*~*~*~