*~*~*~*~*~

Upside down and inside out

The sound of steel on steel

We crashed the car at ten p.m.

So fast it felt unreal

Upside down and inside out

I can't believe the things I feel

We crashed the car at ten p.m.

And my love for you was revealed

- Me

*~*~*~*~*~

Cristina hung up with Bailey and stared down at Callie. Their friendship had shocked her. She wasn't looking for a friend, but after Callie lost her baby and almost lost her mind to boot, Cristina had blurted out during surgery that Callie should move out of the Archfield and in with her. To Yang's shock, horror, and ... relief ... Torres said yes. They were like oil and water at first. Callie was a neat freak and decided to decorate the place with red throw pillows that caused Cristina to develop a nervous twitch. She finally gave them to Goodwill and assured Callie that they had been robbed.

Unbeknownst to her, Callie liked to shop at Goodwill for books and the pillows reappeared within the week. They had laughed about it over a bottle of wine and Cristina helped her clean the apartment while they were both still buzzing high enough to enjoy the staggering, bumbling, drunken idiots they had become while they picked the place up. The apartment stayed neat as a pin after that ... mostly because of Callie. Also because when it was *clean*, Callie didn't feel the need to put anything else *red* in it ... and Yang chose her battles wisely.

Eventually they fell into an easy routine. They most assuredly did not sit and giggle at girly shows on the television, but they did frequently split a case of beer while they watched whatever sporting event caught their fancy. Cristina had the queen sized bed replaced with two twin sized ones and they would lie in the dark at night talking about their fancy upbringing and how money had made them natural cynics. They bitched about men, bitched about work, and talked enough shit about George and Izzie to have special hand signals that could quietly be utilized when either of the assholes were within earshot.

That was particularly fun during the monthly M&M's.

Callie didn't know it ... but the day she packed up her things to move into her new house with Jack ... Cristina hid one of the red throw pillows and it received a place of honor on the twin bed that Callie had left behind.

Cristina didn't advertise for another roommate.

And she didn't go out of her way to talk to Callie for several weeks. When Callie asked her why ... Yang told her that kids made her vomit. Then Jack had bounded across the lunchroom one day and recognized Cristina, saying that her picture was in their hallway. Yang *needed* to see whether that picture was on a dart board or if it was one of the many that Joe had snapped at the Emerald City Bar.

She invited herself for dinner and was relieved to see that it was a shot of them, framed with a lovely gilded square, at the bar cheering side by side at something on the television. Cristina started going to Callie's every Wednesday and Saturday for dinner after that. The tent in Jack's room had been her idea and she swung from the rope swing like a monkey.

She even made the *sounds*.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Cristina shook Callie gently. "Torres, I swear to God, if you don't wake up and say something that makes sense I will smother you to death with something red. And ugly. And filled with down. WAKE UP!"

"Ungh." Callie awoke to the most god awful pain of her entire life. She tried to reach up to see if her face was still attached, but her arms would not cooperate. She had a fleeting thought that she was paralyzed and wanted to ask, but when Cristina swam into view she said, "Where's Mark?" instead.

"What day is it?" Yang asked hopefully.

"Jack's birthday. Oh my god! Jack!"

"Bailey has him. He wasn't with you, remember? What's your middle name?"

"You know my middle name, 'Stina."

"Only Jack can call me that, Iphigenia Vagina."

"Fuck you."

"How do you feel?"

"What happened?"

"Car wreck."

"I can't move."

"You're still strapped to the back board. We're waiting on your second MRI. You woke up earlier, but you didn't know who you were or what planet you were on so they did another one to make sure they didn't miss anything."

"Mark?" She felt her friend take her hand which terrified her more than anything ever had. Yang only touched Jack and that was because he forced her to. "Cristina, please -"

"He was taken to emergency surgery. We know that his spleen is ruptured and he's got broken ribs and a punctured lung."

"Was he awake when he came in?"

"No."

"Head trauma?"

"His scan was clean. Derek was called in and it looks like it was just a hard lick ... just like what you got." Cristina reached up and blotted at Callie's forehead with a stack of gauze. "Along with a gash that won't stop bleeding. Lucky for you, you have me in here to work my magic stitchery. I may not be as cute as Sloan, but I think my sutures are better anyway."

"Oh fuck, Yang! Why the hell didn't you do it while I was knocked out?"

"Because your screams will please me and because I wasn't allowed until we knew you were not brain dead. Well, brain dead-er. What are you doing with Sloan?"

"We went to a carnival."

"That's so cute I just shit myself." Cristina began to numb the area, trying to do it as quickly as possible. When a tear fell down Callie's face, Cristina bit her bottom lip. She had seen her friend cry enough to last a person a lifetime. "I was in the gallery for Mark's speech, by the way. How's that star in the Chicken Shit Hall of Fame?"

"I am not a chicken shit! You're killing me."

"Cry baby." Cristina smiled at her. "Have you finally had sex with him?"

"Everyone knows my sex life!?"

"Is there one? Is that what Big Daddy Al got so pissed about?"

"Big Daddy Al thinks I'm a bad mother."

"You want me to kill him?"

"Would it help you stop killing me? Ow!" Callie sniffled. "Can you call the OR and ask about Mark?"

Cristina held up her hands, which were full of suturing tools. "Let me finish, Genie."

"I never should have told you my private fantasy."

"Who has a crush on a cartoon Genie, Torres? You ruined Aladdin for me."

"You ruined Big Macs for me. At least I left out the worst of the details. I'll never look at Ronald McDonald the same way again. You dirty, dirty clown fucker."

"I *can* make you scar, you know? Stop talking."

Callie stopped.

Cristina was pleased to see that she had stopped crying as well.

*~

Chief Webber came in as Yang was securing a bandage to Callie's forehead. Cristina gave him all the information she had and assured him that Callie was finally talking about something other than guacamole that was supposedly on the stove in the corner. He leaned over Callie and shined a light into her eyes. "You have a grade three concussion, Dr. Torres, which explains your earlier confusion. Your spine is not damaged so we're going to take you off that board and I need you tell me if you have pain as we do so."

Meredith, who had come in off duty with Derek, helped Cristina take the board and sit Callie up on the side of the bed. Callie's clothing had been cut away so she clutched the sheet for modesty's sake. The Chief walked his fingertips over her neck and head and when he moved to the right side and felt the knot where she had hit the window, she cried out. He ordered pain meds and she refused, clutching her chest which had started to burn so badly that it almost took her breath. "No, I want to be awake when Mark comes out of surgery."

"Your headache is going to get increasingly worse as the night goes on." Webber nodded at Cristina, letting her know that she needed to get the meds. "Lie back and let me check your abdomen."

"My chest hurts."

Moving to the other side of the bed, Meredith resolutely slipped her hand into Callie's. It shocked her as much as Cristina's touch and she worried that they weren't telling her everything. She searched the younger woman's eyes and finally asked, "How bad is Mark? Really?"

"He's gonna be fine. Derek's in there with him."

"Cristina said that his brain is okay! Is there something I need to know?!"

"We can't release any information, Dr. Torres." Richard shook his head.

"I can. And I'm telling you that he's fine. Derek's only in there because Webber couldn't be and I just talked to him. They've already got his spleen out and they had to take the part of his rib that went through his lung because it was irreparable. He'll be out soon." Meredith replied, then hissed when Webber pulled back the sheet and Callie's chest was exposed. "The seatbelt did a number on you! Holy shit!"

"Grey," Webber warned.

"I'm not on duty. I can react like a normal person." Meredith smiled at Callie. "Your nose looked broken when we got here. You took the airbag full in the face."

Cristina returned with the medication and drew up short when she saw the deep purple bruise that cut across Callie's chest and lower belly. "Holy shit!"

"My sentiments exactly," Meredith told her.

"Yang, you *are* on duty so do not react like a normal person." Webber finished the abdominal exam, relieved that Callie never had discomfort.

Callie tried to sit up so that she could see the damage for herself. She was only able to see a flash of color before Cristina put her hand over her eyes and gently pressed her down on the pillow again. Webber examined her lower hips, where the seat belt had dug in so deeply that it caused matching cuts and she groaned. "Okay, fine. Give me the shot. But you people better put Mark in my room and -"

"We don't put men and women together." Webber picked up her chart and flipped through it.

"Well, I'll just get up later on and go stay with him then. And I could *fall* on my way and ... wouldn't that just be horrible?" Callie rubbed her forehead and regretted it instantly. It felt like it belonged on a Klingon and when the medication knocked her out a few minutes later, she was glad to go.

*~

"How is he?" Meredith asked as Derek appeared in the doorway of Callie's room two hours later.

"He's already awake and demanding answers. The guy who hit them had a blood alcohol level that is double the legal limit and when I told him that ... he wanted to get up and go kick his ass." Derek picked up Callie's chart and nodded. "Her scans looked okay, too. Was she coherent when she woke up the second time?"

"Yes. And she's waking up every ten minutes now to ask what we know." Cristina adjusted the IV line when the monitor began to beep. "You're bringing him in here after recovery, right?"

"The Chief is pretending that he has no knowledge of this little arrangement, but yes, he's going into slot B." Shepherd moved to Callie's side. "Webber said that she had the worst bruising from a seat belt he's ever witnessed."

Cristina stopped him from lifting the sheet. "You can't look at your ex-best friend's new woman's tits."

"I'm a *doctor*."

"You are a neuro surgeon. Tits have nothing to do with the brain. Unless you're a guy. Which you are. So no." Cristina slapped his hand away. "I'm guarding her modesty because I bought Jack a gun and -"

"You bought him a *what*?!" Derek asked.

"Air rifle. Bad as hell. He killed a slide *and* pitched a fit when Mark took it away from him, so I'm on tit duty. Stay away from hers."

"He's FIVE!" Meredith yelled. "CRISTINA!?"

Callie woke with a start and sat up, groaning as soon as she was upright. She saw Derek and her eyes widened. "How is he?"

"Damn," Derek replied, putting a hand under her chin to study her face. "Your outsides look worse than his insides did."

She grabbed his lab coat. "HOW IS HE!?"

"Fine! He's fine! They'll be bringing him up any minute now."

Callie, whose brain was still muddled from the pain medication, let him go and took a deep breath. "I need a gown."

"I'll get it." Cristina hurried into the hallway and returned a moment later, glaring at Derek until he held up his hands and left the room. She waited for the door to click before she eased the cover back and let the rail down. "Come on."

Callie eased her legs off the side of the stretcher and let Yang slip the gown over her arms. Standing was worse than she imagined. The second that she got to her feet, her hips protested and she felt her eyes flood with tears. "How can I take care of Jack like this?"

"I'll stay with you," Cristina said. "He likes me. Too much. And I do owe you after the gun thing."

"What were you thinking?" Callie asked.

"He's only been asking me for it every time he sees me!"

"Learn to say no if you stay with me."

"Yeah, we play good cop, bad cop and you're always the good one, right?" Cristina replied. "I don't think so."

"I need to go to the bathroom, bad cop."

Meredith unplugged the IV and watched Cristina take it. She wasn't sure exactly when her person had become another person's person, but it had happened. It definitely had a lot to do with George and Izzie. Meredith's support of the couple had pissed Cristina off to no end. While they were still friends ... they were nowhere near as close as they had once been and Meredith didn't know how to get it back there.

But she would damn well keep trying.

*~

"How is she?" Mark asked Derek as they wheeled him down the hall.

Derek motioned for Nurse Tyler to stop and leaned against the rail of Mark's stretcher. "She's pretty mangled. There's a gash on her forehead that's about three inches long, but it's been covered now. Her nose is swollen from the airbag and while I haven't seen ... I've heard that the bruising from the seat belt should be photographed for medical journals."

"Nothing internal?"

"Nope. She does have a severe concussion, though. When we first got here, she was talking crazy. Talking about food that was burning and saying something about her treatment making her sick. Webber thinks she hit the window with her head and that's what broke it, hence the cut."

"Is the mother fucker who did this still in the ER?"

"He was released into police custody."

"Shit. I just needed five minutes."

"How do you feel?"

"I'll feel better when I see her."

"You really like this one, huh?"

"I really do." Mark met his eyes. "I think I've found the one."

"You have a *one*? I better go check your head scan again." Derek smiled, then nodded at Nurse Tyler.

When Mark was wheeled into the room, he looked expectantly at Callie's bed, then at Meredith, who pointed at the bathroom. Nurse Tyler had him settled in and was gone by the time Callie emerged. Mark had to look away. Her face was swollen and the bandage on her head didn't little to cover the discoloration that still peeked out. He looked back at her when she said his name and put her hand on his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Callie."

"It wasn't your fault." She gave him a small smile. "You scared the hell out of me."

"You scared the hell out of me, too." He held his hand up and she took it. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Nah." She shook her head, then grimaced. "Uh, yes."

Mark looked at Derek. "Get her a pump, too."

"I already ordered it."

Turning back to Callie, he said, "Let me see the damage done by the seat belt."

"You just want me to flash you." Callie laughed and her entire body protested. She had to fight hard to keep her tears at bay. "There's something to be said for wrecking right after you've already been beaten half to death by rickety traveling carnival rides. And none of it's good."

"Let me see, baby."

"We'll wait outside," Meredith said, taking Derek's hand.

"I won't. Not until she's back in bed." Cristina crossed her arms, resolutely standing just behind Callie. "Want me to untie your gown?"

"I suppose." Callie took a deep breath. "It looks worse than it is, Mark."

He watched as Cristina made quick work of the strings. Seeing one woman undressing another should have done amazing things to his libido and there was a comment about it on the tip of his tongue, but then the gown slipped down and he swore, trying to sit up. "Oh God, Callie."

Callie moved fast and put her hand on his chest. "I'm okay."

"You need to get back in the bed." Even as he said it, he reached up and brushed the back of his hand over her right breast, which was so discolored he could barely believe it. The seat belt had left a perfect thumbprint on her flesh, from her collar down toward her hip. The untouched part of her skin, however, mocha and cinnamon, took his breath away. "You're so beautiful."

"Oh my God!" Cristina peered around Callie's back. "Are you groping her!? Sloan, you absolute piece of shit! She's hurt!"

"Shut up." Callie put her palm against his, which was still facing out. "I'm gonna get back in the bed, but I promised you something and I keep my word."

Callie leaned forward, her free hand against his cheek. After gazing into his eyes for several seconds, she kissed him. It wasn't carnal or overly passionate, but when she pulled back, she had forgotten all about her pain. "I said I'd give you a good night kiss. Un beso es una declaracion silenciosa de amor."

Mark reached up and wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger, pulling her down for one more kiss. She had just told him that a kiss was a silent declaration of love. "Ya no lo es".

He told her is was silent no more.

Cristina sighed. "Are you freaks finished with the Spanish foreplay? Callie, your legs are shaking and if you pass out I'll kick your ass."

Callie eased back into the bed, moving like someone who was three times her age. She had not expected him to understand what she said and the rush of blood to her head made her so lightheaded that she almost *had* passed out. "Good night, Mark."

"Night, baby."

"Night, John Boy," Cristina added, stepping aside for the nurse to set up Callie's pump. "I'll see you tomorrow, Cal."

"Thanks, 'Stina."

Cristina laid a hand on her leg. "Anytime, Genie."

*~*~*~*~

Mark was watching Callie sleep. He had raised the head of his bed high enough to see over the phone table between their beds and as the sun finally broke through the partially closed blinds, he could gaze at her as much as he liked. And he did like. Her black hair was spread over the pillow and his fingers itched to touch it. She was facing him, on her side with her knees drawn upward and her lips were slightly parted in sleep. Her deep, even breaths sounded like music to his ears and he didn't fully understand why he was thinking about music or about waking up next to her every day for ... forever ... but he was. Even if it had to be like this.

Her entire face was mottled with bruises now. The airbag, while a wonderful invention, could make someone look like they had gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson. He hated to even consider how Jack would react to Callie's injuries. Jack had intimate knowledge of physical pain and had purposely injured himself when the emotional pain was too much so he would *understand* to be gentle. Still, seeing someone you loved hurt was more excruciating than anything that could be done to you.

When she moaned and rolled onto her back, Mark held his breath. He had gotten up during the night because she had cried out. He had hit the button on her morphine drip himself, giving her a much needed dosage. After a trip to the bathroom, he had happily hit his own. When she made no further sounds now, he relaxed. His body ached, the incision on his side where they repaired the damage to his lung was burning, but the tiny incisions from the laparoscopic splenectomy didn't phase him at all. Despite the major surgery, he had a feeling that Callie's recovery time would be far more significant than his.

As he settled into watching her again, a startling realization crossed his mind. They had wrecked right after he assured her that he would never hurt her, that she was safe with him. The irony was not lost on Mark, but he didn't view it as a cosmic bitch slap. He viewed it as his wake up call ... he would have to be more careful with her. Instead of hanging onto her with one hand, the way he had in the car ... he would cling to her with both from this point on.

And let her do all the driving.

Callie stretched and almost jumped out of her skin as pain shot through parts of her body that she didn't even know she had. With a half gasp, half sob, she opened her eyes and blinked against the harsh light of day. Her gaze found Mark's and she saw that he was trying to let the rail down on his bed. "I'm okay," she whimpered, drawing her legs up against her chest. "Don't you dare get out of that bed."

Mark ignored her. He finally got the side down and gently swung his legs to the floor. A bolt of agony shot through his ribs, one that had been removed and one that was broken, and almost buckled his knees, but he made it to her side and finally touched her hair. Brushing it back, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her full lips. As he did so, he pressed her pain dispenser again and smiled down at her. "Good morning."

Callie had never felt so light headed after a kiss in her life. He looked like a handsome, scruffy blur when she tried to focus on him and then she realized that he had given her a dosage of medicine and shook her head. "That was dirty."

"We're notoriously dirty according to you," he replied, then reached up and peeled the tape back on the bandage that covered her head. He kept his face impassive when he saw the gash. Scarring would be inevitable. "How do you feel?"

"Well enough to kick your ass if you don't go back to bed." She reached up and touched a scratch on his cheek as he secured the bandage on her head again. "On our next date, we're staying home."

"I was thinking that our next date could be discovering the joys of public transportation." He sat down beside her and was unable to hide the effort it took to do so.

Callie pushed herself into a sitting position and untied the side of his gown, then lifted it and ran her hand along the white bandage that wound its way around his ribcage. "Which one did they remove?"

He told her, watching her bite her lip as she felt where it had been. Her touch was gentle, skilled, and he grinned at her. "You know, it's kinda fitting that I lost my rib on the day that I finally got you. Adam and Eve are supposedly the greatest love story of all time and he gave up his for her. And you are into bones, Ortho Chick."

"That might be the most romantic and bizarre thing anyone has ever said to me." Callie brushed her thumb over his lip and kissed him again. "I really do -"

The door opened and Bailey appeared, her hands on her hips. She stared at the couple on the bed and shook her head. "Sloan, I don't want to see your naked ass so get that damn gown fastened the right way and *this* right here is why we don't put men and women together."

Mark got back to his feet, making sure that Bailey got an eyeful as he did so. The woman was dressed in her street clothes and he vaguely remembered that she was off for the day and had planned to Jack and Tuck to the aquarium or something. He had only heard bits and pieces. He had been too busy formulating his plans to seduce Callie. "How's Jack?" he asked, standing still so that Callie could retie the gown.

"I haven't told him much. He's a perceptive kid, though, so he figured out that something had happened because he eavesdropped on me last night." She looked back at Callie. "He's in the nursery right now. He's been demanding to see you since he woke up."

Callie reached up and felt her face. She could feel the swelling and the look Bailey had given her when she first came in was filled with shock. And horror. "I don't want to scare him."

"I can prepare him for it." Mark's face was bruised, but nowhere in the same vicinity as Callie's. His stubble covered the worst of it. His face had been turned toward Callie in the car so the airbag caught his left ear and chin for the most part. And he had been further away from it than she had been, to compensate for his long legs as he drove. "You need to set his mind at ease, Cal."

She took a deep breath. "Okay."

"I'll go get him." Bailey turned toward the door, then stopped and looked at Callie. "You're probably going to be here for a couple of days. I think Chief Webber wants to give you maximum pain control. I'll gladly keep Jack so don't you worry."

"Thanks, Miranda."

When Mark heard Jack in the hallway a few minutes later, he pulled the curtain in front of Callie and eased down into a nearby chair. He was ready to get back into the bed, ready to dose himself as frequently as possible, but first things first. Miranda opened the door and Jack took a tentative step inside. He spotted Mark and looked like he wanted to run toward him, but Bailey said something so low that Mark couldn't hear it and the little boy walked across the floor as if it was full of glass and he was about to be cut to shreds.

"Hey, buddy." Mark took the little boy's hand when he stopped a foot away and pulled him closer. He pressed a kiss to his forehead and said, "Did you have fun last night?"

Jack nodded and reached up to stroke Mark's face, his touch feather light on the bruises. "One time at the group home, our van got hitted and it cut my face, too."

"I bet that was scary," Mark replied. He shook his head when Jack tried to crawl into his lap. "I wish I could pick you up, little man, but I can't. I had surgery and my ribs are broken."

"My mom tickles mine 'til they break, too." Jack glanced behind him at the curtain. "Where is she?"

"She's over there, but I wanted to talk to you for a second." Mark squeezed his hand. "Your mom has a cut on her face, too. It's scarier than mine and she's got a lot of bruises, but she's still your mom and she'll be back to normal in no time. Okay?"

Jack nodded and Bailey took his hand, pulling back the curtain. Callie, who was trying valiantly to stay awake since the medication had now taken full effect, smiled when she saw her son. He looked at her, bit his bottom lip, and then buried his face against Bailey's hip. Miranda leaned down and picked him up, settling him against her side. He peered at Callie with trepidation as she pulled herself into a sitting position and reached for him.

"Oh, Callie, I don't think-" Miranda began.

"Just ... let him sit with me." Callie patted the bed.

Hearing her voice seemed to help Jack overcome the visuals. When Miranda sat him on the spot that Callie indicated, he climbed to his knees and sat facing her, his hands flat against his thighs. "Mom-"

"I'm okay," Callie reassured him. "It looks worse than it is."

Jack inched closer, his eyes riveted to her face. "I can kiss it better."

Callie put her hands on either side of his slim waist and closed her eyes as he slowly kissed every inch of her face. He touched his nose to hers when he was finished and whispered, "You're still pretty."

Mark, who was watching from his seat, had to be pretty suave about drying his eyes.

*~

After years of being a surgeon, Webber had heard every possible argument from patients about why they should be released. By far and away, Callie was the most persistent he had ever witnessed. He flatly refused and gave her all his reasons, particularly his concern over her confusion and disorientation from the previous night. Her grade 3 concussion, while relatively common, was the most severe that he had seen in years and when she suggested that she could sign the paperwork to discharge against her doctor's orders, he didn't have to raise his voice ... Sloan did it very well.

To work the soreness from their limbs and to keep their circulation up, they were given the green light to walk in the hallway. Luckily, Cristina arrived with pajamas for the both of them. The fact that they matched seemed to give her personal satisfaction and she mocked them relentlessly as she took snapshot after snapshot with her camera phone while they made their way into the hall. Callie's gait was even slower than Mark's and his was so comical that Derek pointed and laughed, then 'awwwwwed' over their matching clothing.

After their walk, they were both so exhausted that they fell asleep and didn't awake until their dinners were brought in. Having missed lunch, they were ravenous so talking was at a minimal while they far from enjoyed the patented hospital food. While Mark ate his cake, he asked, "Did someone call your parents and let them know what happened?"

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "Definitely not."

"Why?"

"My relationship with them, which has never been great," she said, "was irreparably damaged with the whole Vegas wedding and quickie divorce thing. My dad has political aspirations so when and if he does one day run for office then I'm sure my Britney Spears moment will be dredged up for maximum embarrassment and character destruction."

"What does he do right now? Your dad?"

"He golfs. That's pretty much it. He's retired."

"They're millionaires, though. Right?"

Talking about her parent's money not only ruined past relationships, it drove George into Steven's bed. She set her pie back on the tray, untouched, and met his eyes. "I don't want to discuss that."

"Why not?"

"Because money is the root of all evil."

"Bet my folks are richer than yours," he shot back. "And for what it's worth, my dad liked to yell at me, too."

She grinned. "Did you rush off to Vegas? Get a divorce? Adopt a kid?"

"No, I existed."

Callie's smile faded as she watched him finish off his cake. His admission didn't affect him in the least, but it made her heart ache. "Mark?"

"Hmmm."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Not physically." He wiped his mouth with a napkin and eased back against the bed, swearing as his ribs ached. "That would have required him being near me for longer than an hour a week. And that hour was devoted entirely to shouting."

"And your mom?"

"She lived the socialite life. She was usually jetting off to Europe or some other exotic place to look at fashion. I could probably count the times I saw her each year on one hand."

"Then why did they -"

"Adopt me? It was the cool thing to do and like I told you ... I was their midlife crisis kid. I was fun for a while and then the crisis was over and the *novelty* was gone so I got pawned off on the nanny. Who smelled like Gertie." Mark watched Callie settle back against her bed. "What was your childhood like?"

"I'm the only girl so I've always been a constant source of disappointment. I'm the baby of the family and while all my female cousins were entering beauty pageants and shopping for expensive clothing, I was busy reading and watching sports. I wasn't pretty enough, or thin enough, or interested in girly things." She gazed out the window. "I did see my parents a lot and they didn't like what they saw in me. They were very vocal about it. Comb your hair. Lose some weight. Don't do-"

"I saw a photo of you in your hallway. How could they say you weren't thin enough? You were scrawny as hell. With brown hair instead of black."

"Oh, my brown wig."

"Wig?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"I don't talk about it."

"You do now. Come on, tell me. Did you shave your head like Britney, too?"

"Absolutely not. I only did her quickie wedding and divorce thing, nothing else." Her eyes met his and she held them. "I lost my hair because of chemotherapy. Osteosarcoma."

"Bone cancer. That - that scar on your back? It didn't come from a skiing accident, right?"

"You're not the only one who lost a rib." She tucked her hands under her cheek. "I was lucky. It had not spread to any organs, but ... it sealed my fate as a social outcast in high school. I was constantly sick and doomed to sit at the back of the class so that my mouth ulcers and gray face didn't offend anyone too much. Plus, it was closer to the door and I was constantly running to the bathroom."

"Why the hell didn't your parents hire a tutor and teach you at home?"

"Character building was more important in my family than being sick." She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. "I wasn't allowed to cry or complain or give in. My parents viewed it as a test and the fact that I beat it meant that I was destined for great things. So far they're not happy with my choices."

"No offense, but I really don't like your family."

"None taken."

Mark watched her close her eyes and drift off to sleep again.

Her parents were right about her destiny being great.

She had saved Jack.

And him.

*~*~*~*~*~

The following morning, Callie's headache intensified and Derek found edema in her brain which required medication to reduce the swelling. It was not life threatening, but it dashed her hopes of leaving that day. Mark had developed a horrific cough thanks to his lung, which required antibiotics by the bag full. By day four of their hospital stay, they knew everything there was to know about one another and they were both in high spirits and ready to be discharged. Jack was brought in by Dr. Bailey first thing every morning, then at lunch, and then after Bailey's shift ended. He cried on what was technically his fifth night away from his mother, begging Callie to let him stay and pleading with her to take him home. Callie held it together, assuring him that it wouldn't be much longer until they were together again and when he calmed down and left with Bailey, she fell apart.

Mark crawled from his bed and into hers, pulling her into his arms. That was where they still were when Webber came in the following morning for rounds. The Chief declared that if they felt like breaking every hospital rule known to man ... then they were ready to be released. Cristina arrived with fresh clothing for Callie and announced that she had taken two weeks off to help her out.

It dawned on Callie in that moment that Mark had no one to help him at the hotel. She knew exactly how lonely the place was. Her heart made the decision before he mind could overrule it. She looked at Cristina and said, "You'll have two invalids. Mark's coming home with me."

"What?" Mark and Cristina asked together.

Callie nodded and looked at Mark. "You can't go home alone and - and the nanny's room off the kitchen is empty so you won't have to deal with stairs. So ... okay?"

"You can't deal with stairs either, Cal. Your hips are -"

"It's a queen size bed."

Mark took a deep breath. "What about Jack? It could confuse him and -"

"I'd rather have him confused than disappointed that his mother keeps polishing her star at the Chicken Shit Hall of Fame instead of letting someone else take the spot." She sighed. "He won't have to know. He's a sound sleeper and he never goes into my bedroom at night. I'll tell him that you're staying because you need us to take care of you and - he won't have to know until we -"

"Until we what?"

"Decide if this is what we want."

"You're the only one who has to make that decision, Callie. I already know."

"Is this how it's going to be?" Cristina asked, throwing her hands in the air. "You like her. She likes you. The sexual chemistry is choking me and it painfully obvious that it's killing the two of you ... so I'll be the decider and I'm saying ... "

"Let's go home," Callie cut her off. "That's the decision. All of us."

*~*~*~*~*~