*~*~*~*~*~

Upside down and inside out

You make me want to need you

Inside out and hopelessly bound

If you follow I will lead you

Crash into me a time or two

Now I know my heart is beating

I whispered 'I love you' again last night

But I think it bears repeating

-Me

*~*~*~*~*~

The first week of having Mark as a roommate passed swiftly. Callie spent most of her time napping on the sofa, thanks to a prescription of narcotics, and she waited at least an hour after Jack went to bed before she would creep into the nanny's old room and gently situate herself next to Mark. She always set her alarm for five a.m. and went back to the sofa before Jack could arise, but those few hours spent with Mark spooned against her or her against him ... were the best hours of her life. They spent most of their nights talking, hence the daily naps, and eventually realized that they knew more about one another than they knew about themselves.

One the eighth morning, Mark awoke with a start and glanced at the clock on the end table. It was four thirty and he groaned. He would only have her in his arms for thirty more minutes so he needed to make it count. He kissed her awake and smiled when she narrowed her eyes at him. "Good morning, gorgeous," he said.

"Despite the fact that this is a very commendable wake up call, I've only been asleep for two hours because you had to tell me all about your first date. Therefore, I cannot be happy about this."

"Excuse me," he laughed. "Did you not tell me all about yours?"

"My story was funnier."

"Only because you kicked his ass."

"He needed it." Callie reached up and scratched the stubble on his cheek. "You need to shave and this room is entirely too well lit."

"It's that damned oversized clock. Why don't you just put a neon sign in here."

"Gertie was half blind," she yawned, the snuggled against him. "You know what's weird?"

"That you hired a half blind nanny who apparently had gas?"

"No, ass," Callie laughed. "That you know every one of my secrets and we're only *sleeping* together. Literally sleeping. No sex."

"Believe me ... if I was well enough to have sex with you then my wake up call would have been much, much better. I will be so glad when my body cooperates with my brain." He trailed his fingertips down her arm. "I've never woken up with the same woman this many times."

"Liar! You lived with Addison!"

"We fought more than we lived. I was usually in the dog house, which in New York is on the sofa, and she was usually locked in the bedroom. And I didn't know *any* of her secrets." He kissed the top of her head, smiling. "Your hair smells like vanilla and that's so strange considering the color."

"You want me to color coordinate? Would you rather it smelled like chocolate?"

"No, you taste like that." Mark tilted her chin and kissed her, letting his hand travel along her cheek. When they pulled apart, he breathed her in again. "I don't want you to get up."

"I don't want me to get up either."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"If this is all we could do ... stand on first base and keep swinging and never hit that home run ... I'd be okay with that." Mark trailed his thumb over her bottom lip. "Because I don't have to touch you ... to be touched by you."

She looked into his eyes for the longest time before she spoke. "Were you *always* this guy? Because you never showed that you could -"

"No, I wasn't." He kissed her again. "I am what you made me."

*~

Cristina could not cook. What Cristina *could* do was order take out and Jack decided that Cristina should be in charge of food for the rest of his life. He attacked Chinese, Mexican, Italian and even specialty salads with glee. Anything and everything the adults tried, Jack would usually match them bite for bite and if Mark commented on something being good, Jack would echo his sentiment and ask for more. Jack echoed everything Mark said, repeatedly.

Brussel sprouts reappeared on the table as a test on the ninth day home. Cristina gagged several times just having them in the car, but Callie had specifically asked for it so she tried to suck it up for her sake. The second she put them on the table, the little boy stopped chattering happily with Mark and his eyes widened. Cristina, who had been told all about Jack's tantrum, slid the bowl out of his reach as she sat down across from him.

"Can I go to my room?" Jack asked, his eyes still on the bowl.

"You have to eat dinner," Callie replied, watching him closely.

Jack's hands fisted on the table and he swallowed so hard that everyone heard it. His big, brown eyes filled with tears and he closed them, scrunching his face up. Callie reached over and rubbed his arm, shocked to feel that he was shaking. "Jack? You don't have to eat it. There are a lot of other things that you like so -"

"In the frosted home, when I wouldn't eat sprouts --- they didn't give me nothing else for a real long time. They let the other kids have cereal in the morning --- but sprouts is all they gived me because I wouldn't eat it. I tried to find something else when they were asleep, but they would spank me and make me go back to bed and my stomach always hurted. And then I was so hungry that I did eat it and it made me throw up on the mom --- so she gaved me away." Jack opened his eyes and looked at Callie. "But I didn't cry because I wanted to go away. In the new frosted home they gave me good food sometimes."

Callie blinked, trying to force the tears away. She had suspected, given Jack's penchant for hiding food in his room and stuffing himself to the point of becoming ill, that he had been hungry in the past, perhaps at the group home where the bigger children could have taken his food, but this reality was even worse. That someone could do that to a child caused her stomach to twist and she felt bile in the back of her throat. Her voice was determinedly steady when she spoke and it took everything in her to make it so. "Sometimes people are bad and they do bad things, but that's never going to happen to you here. You don't have to eat it. Ever. You can have anything else you want and I don't mind. I'll never mind, okay?"

Jack glanced back at the sprouts, then laced his fingers through Callie's and smiled at her. "Okay."

A second later, Callie excused herself and walked into the bathroom just off the laundry room. She braced herself against the sink for a second, mumbling to herself that she needed to calm down, and then she sat on the edge of the bathtub and surrendered to the tears that were threatening to choke her to death. As an afterthought, she turned on the water in the bathtub so that Jack wouldn't hear.

Mark didn't knock, he simply pushed the door open and closed it behind him. Seeing her tears did strange things to him, things he had never felt in his life and he knew that he had to stop her before it killed him. "Callie, it's okay. He's already forgotten about it and he's playing around with Yang while he eats. And he is eating. A lot."

"I'm a horrible person," she sobbed. "I've seen the way he reacts to those damn things and I still did it again. I purposely asked for them and -"

"Stop it." He lowered the lid on the toilet and took her hands in his as he sat down, their knees touching. "At least now you understand. Don't look at this as a bad thing ... look at it for what it is. He's at the point where he can trust you with *his* secrets now, baby. He can talk about things that hurt him because he trusts you ... he trusts that you're a family and nothing he tells you will change that. He finally believes in you."

She sniffled and dried her eyes. "I didn't know that I could love another human being so much."

"Well, he's pretty amazing."

Callie smiled.

She wasn't just talking about Jack.

*~*~*~*~*~

"You look at Sloan like he's ... like you're ... it's gross." Cristina had waited patiently for the shower to turn off before she spoke her mind. Reaching up, she pushed the curtain back and opened the towel for her friend. "He's Mark *Sloan*."

Callie took the towel, cringing as the muscles in her chest contracted. "I am very aware of who he is."

"And you still look at him like ... like ..."

"Having trouble with metaphors?"

"You look at him like you're thirsty in Death Valley and he's a big bottle of water. When, in reality, he's a big bottle of Jack Daniels and the minute you start drinking it you're ... drunk ... and can't think and then he leaves you the next morning with a hangover and ... pain." Cristina looked pleased with her speech. "Pain, Torres. Do you really want to go there with the big pain again?"

"It would be more painful to not go there."

"Then fuck him and duck him, scratch your itch ... don't let him in your system." Cristina hopped up on the sink and regarded the bruises on Callie's chest. "It's starting to look a little better. Have you done the deed yet?"

"No, Dr. Ruth, we haven't done the deed yet. I can still barely move and he spends most of the night tossing and turning because his ribs are killing him." Callie grinned wickedly. "But when we *do* ... I'll gladly have more bruises. When we were together before, I had perfect little dots on my hips and -"

"TMI!" Cristina frantically flapped her hands, trying to cut her off. "So, if he's not feeling you up at night then what are you doing?"

"Talking. Feeling without our hands. He has really good arms for sleeping."

"Having a kid made you soft! You're not my hero anymore." Cristina smiled at her. "You're good at the whole mom thing, by the way."

"Aww, thanks. Wait ... are you about to insult me?"

"No, idiot. I'm telling you that you're good at it. If my mom had been like you then maybe I wouldn't be as cynical as I am." Cristina hopped off the sink and grabbed Callie's underwear before her friend could try to dress herself. As they had done every day for ten days, Cristina squatted down and held them out, then slipped them over her legs and hips. "I'm just saying, my life didn't have climbing walls or a mom who played laser tag and hide and seek with me in the house."

"You've done an admirable job of taking over for me, 'stina. So, I think that your mother's numerous shortcomings will make you a better parent one day."

"I'm better as the cool aunt who buys the guns and -"

"You are a *horrible* gift giver."

"As soon as you're well, I'm buying Mark a genie costume."

Callie grinned. "Okay, I take that back. You are a gift GOD."

Cristina helped dress Callie in green and purple Eeyore pajamas, grumbling the entire time that the sweetness was giving her a toothache. After she brushed Callie's hair, bitching non stop that she should cut four feet off it, she dried it and put her hands on her hips. "Do you see what you've done to me, Torres?"

"Uhm, no?"

"I am *not* the kind of girl who brushes another girl's hair or plays Army with a little boy who talks into a fake walkie talkie, but ... look at what you've done."

Callie stood up and hugged her. She didn't get punched. "You may not be the kind of person who brushes another girl's hair very *well*, but you are the kind of person who answers back when a little boy talks into a fake walkie talkie. And that makes you one hell of a person, Yang. And one hell of a friend."

Cristina gave her a one armed hug, clearing her throat as she pulled away. "My mother didn't let me have an imagination growing up. I - I think I'll buy him real walkie talkies when I go pick up dinner."

"I'm going to miss you when you go back to work."

Cristina didn't look at her. "Then it's a good thing I'll be stopping by every night."

*~*~

On Cristina's first day back at work, Callie was feeling much better. She had woken up early to say good bye to Jack, who was heading for the nursery with Yang. He had been given the option of staying or going and he had decided immediately that he wanted to go play with Tuck. Cristina would be bringing him back home after her ten hour shift ended, assuring Callie that it was better for him to go than stay underfoot and be bored all day.

The soreness in Callie's body was finally starting to become bearable. It had been over three weeks since the accident and time, like Bailey had once told her, could mend a lot of things. During Callie's follow up visit, Miranda had found a hairline fracture in her hip which explained the agony of walking. There was nothing to be done for it and a walker really wouldn't help after so much time had passed, so Callie lived with the pain and took enough anti-inflammatory medication to control it. Mark was mending as well. She had changed his bandages herself for the first few days and now he didn't need anything except the stabilizer around his ribs.

They would both be returning to work the following week and Callie thought, as she made two cups of coffee, that she would miss the stolen moments with him once he went home. Neither of them had mentioned his inevitable departure, but they both knew he was already well enough to leave. Turning, she headed for the bedroom and stopped when she saw him leaning against the arched doorway, watching her. "I thought you were still sleeping."

"Smelled coffee. Real coffee. Not that instant shit that is Yang's specialty."

Callie gave him his cup. "She doesn't understand the finer art of using a French press."

Mark sipped it and smiled heavenward. "Ahhh, that's perfection."

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I could -"

"Let me." He put his cup on the counter after one more sip, then trapped her against the sink, one hand on either side of her. "Not only am I a dart champion, my French toast is good enough to make you cry."

She put her palm on his bare chest, rubbing lightly over the muscles there. It was something she did without thinking. She fell asleep every night in the crook of his arm, smoothing her hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat, touching his skin as it rose and fell with his breaths. She had never slept better in her life and she doubted that it had *anything* to do with the narcotics. Bailey had also been right about time being fleeting ... and Callie refused to let another minute go unused. "I don't want you to go," she whispered.

Mark almost lost his balance due to the immense feeling of relief that rushed through him. "Then ask me to stay."

She gazed up at him, her insides spinning with the possibilities. "We'd have to keep it the way it is. We'd have to let Jack think that you were sleeping down here and I was sleeping upstairs and - and he couldn't know. Not - not yet."

"Ask me to stay, Callie."

"Will you ... move in with us?"

"I'm in."

"You are?"

"All the way." He brushed her hair back and kissed the scar on her forehead, then her mouth. "Now, get out the kitchen so I can cook or I'll burn every damn thing."

Mark had not lied about his breakfast skills which shocked and amused Callie to no end. After they ate, they climbed back in the queen sized bed to enjoy a pay per view movie, R-rated thank you very much, but they didn't watch much of it. Callie accidentally brushed her hand against his thigh thirty minutes into the film and he had responded by crushing her mouth with his. The flavor of the syrup and the confectioner's sugar was still all over their tongues and it was the sweetest kiss, literally, either had ever had.

By the time they pulled apart, breathless from the heavy petting and many, many kisses, the credits were rolling and Callie stared at her watch, stunned. "Oh my god," she said, "we just spent an hour and a half on second base."

"Groping someone never felt so good," he replied, kissing her shoulder. "And I haven't even moved past your pants yet so come back under here and let's go for third."

"Are you sure?" Callie raised a brow. "You're still -"

"I'm positive." He leaned forward, licking her bottom lip. "Actually, let's go past third and see what happens."

She nodded and waited patiently while he untied her pants, then she lifted her hips and eased them down, leaving them bunched up at the foot of the bed as she pulled her feet free. Mark sat up, pushing the cover back so the view was unimpeded. He let his hand skim the creamy flesh of her inner thigh, licking his lips when his thumb rubbed around her neatly trimmed thatch of curls. Wasting no time, he slid his finger along her slick folds and opened his mouth to tell her that she was beautiful when they heard the front door open and the sound of high heels on the hard wood floor.

"Calliope!"

"SHIT! It's my *mother*!" Callie hissed, using her feet to grab her pants. "I am clearly never, ever going to get laid! Ever!"

Mark helped her pull her pants up as quickly as possible, amazed that his raging hard on had gone away so quickly. He watched as Callie straightened her shirt and rushed out the door. He put on his pajama shirt and eased back into the bed, unsure of whether or not he should join her.

*~

"Mami?" Callie called, peering around the doorway like a teenager who had just been busted in her parent's bed.

Margie came down the stairs, radiant in a sun dress and strappy sandals. She opened her mouth to speak, then her hands flew to her mouth when she saw Callie's face. "You look dead!"

"On the plus side, though." Callie bit her bottom lip. "It looks a lot better than it did."

"What on earth happened!?" Margie rushed forward, pushing her daughter's bangs off her face, tilting her head from side to side. "I knew something was amiss. What have you done now?"

"It was a car wreck, Mother, and the only thing that is amiss is the fact that you left my son hanging high and dry on his birthday and that's not cool. Even for *you*."

The front door opened again and Al came in pulling a suitcase behind him. He didn't look at Callie as he slipped the handle back into the suitcase. "We thought we'd come out and take Jack off your hands for a few days before he starts school and --- oh my god --- what happened to you?"

Callie sighed. "Car wreck. And I'm fine, thanks for asking. Both of you."

"Shall I purchase you a new vehicle?" Al asked. "Was it totaled?"

"I was with a friend. Uh, he was hurt pretty badly so he is actually -"

"Where was Jack?" Margie asked.

"He was at a sleep over." Callie narrowed her eyes when her parents glanced at one another. "Is that bad, too? That *he* has friends? Should we just barricade ourselves in the house and have no contact with the outside world?"

"Pehaps," Al said. "Because when *you* have contact with the outside world you wind up eloping, divorcing, losing your promotion, and adopting an ill mannered child who you pawn off on other people. Who were you with?"

Mark had been eavesdropping and he had heard quite enough. He walked into the living room and squared his shoulders when Margie looked at him like he was covered in her daughter's blood. He put his hand on Callie's shoulder and took a deep breath. "She was with me. We were T-boned by a drunk driver. She had a horrible concussion and swelling in her brain and this right here ... this is why she didn't call you. In case you were wondering."

"Young man," Al said, "that is the second time now that you have insulted me. There won't be a third time."

"You're right," Mark shot back. "Because you're not going to give me a reason. This is Callie's house and you're going to respect her in it."

"Like you apparently respect her," Margie snapped, nodding at his pajamas. "It's almost noon and neither of you have bothered to get dressed. Is this really the lifestyle that you feel is suitable for your son, Calliope?"

"He's at the nursery."

"Oh, of course he is!" Margie cried. "You've sent him away for the day so that you can play house with this ... rude and inconsiderate gigolo who -"

"That's enough!" Callie shouted, then clutched her chest as her breath caught from the pain. "God dammit."

The reactions of Al and Margie Torres to their daughter's choice of wording would have been comical if it played out on the big screen instead of in a living room happening in real life. Margie crossed herself, praying so quickly that Mark thought she was talking in tongues. Al turned beet red and kicked the sofa three times since it was closest thing to him. When he reached for Callie, Mark put a protective arm around her and led her to the couch to sit down. He reclined on the arm of the sofa and resolutely crossed his arms over his chest, making it very clear that he would not back down.

"Why are you here!?" Al shouted at Mark. "Are you two living together? Are you? In front of a child!?"

"Mark was injured in the accident and I let him stay in the nanny's room because he had no one to take care of him." Callie couldn't help but feel elation. No one in her entire life had ever spoken up in her defense the way he had. "I've explained it to Jack and he understands. He understands that when a friend needs you that you help out and -"

"Really?" Margie shot her daughter a skeptical look. "Where were you when I came in? Were you in your *friend's* room?"

"It's none of your business," Callie said, her tone laced with ice. "I'm an adult and the way I choose to live and raise my son is none of your concern."

"What has happened to you?" Al asked. "Where is the girl who scored a sixteen hundred on her S.A.T? You are so much smarter than this, so much better than this."

"Dad, can you please just -"

"No, honey! You wanted us to accept your marriage and we did. You wanted us to accept your divorce and we did. You wanted us to welcome Jack into our family and we did. When are you going to give us *anything* in return?"

Jack suddenly barreled through the front door, followed by Dr. Bailey who was laughing. He planted a kiss on Callie, hugged Mark's legs and then raced into the kitchen. Miranda smiled at Callie's parents and greeted them warmly, having met them both at Jack's party. She turned to Callie and her smile faded a little as she saw the terse expression on her face. "Callie, he got bored at the nursery and decided that it was time to come home. Lucky for him I was heading out for lunch. I tried to call, but there was no answer. We saw work trucks so I guess there's something with the lines."

"Thank you, Miranda. I appreciate it." Callie said, flinching as Jack opened the back door and screamed for Sprout, his German Shepherd, at the top his lungs. He had ignored his grandparents entirely and she made a mental note to give him extra dessert that night. The puppy, who was growing in leaps and bounds, could be heard clumsily racing across the back deck and then Jack scooped him up a second later, grunting in his efforts, and carried him upstairs to his bedroom. Callie glanced at Bailey. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Your son exhausted me so if you have a bottle of water I would love you for life."

Callie started to get to her feet, but Mark said, "I'll get it."

"Are you in town for long?" Bailey asked Margie, smiling up the stairs when they heard Jack singing loudly and off key to Veggie Tales.

"No," Margie replied, forcing herself to be polite. "We're meeting friends in Alaska in a couple of days and stopped by to see if Jack would like to accompany us."

"Oh, that should be fun!" Bailey accepted the bottle of water that Mark held out. "I better go. Tucker is meeting me for lunch and I'm already late."

"Thanks for bringing him home." Callie got to her feet and walked Bailey to the front door. "I really do appreciate it."

Miranda glanced behind her. "Is everything okay?"

"The only daughter of excessively Catholic parents, recently married, recently divorced, and now caught in the act of living in sin. No, it's not okay."

"Stick to your guns, girl." Bailey squeezed her hand. "I'll call you later."

Callie nodded and shut the door before she returned to the sofa. Upstairs, Sprout was barking and Jack was laughing and the radio was so loud that the walls vibrated. Al glanced at the stairs, clearly irritated. "Calliope, are you going to do something about the noise?"

"He's having fun." Callie took a deep breath and exhaled. "And no, he can't go to Alaska. I have a lot to do with him before school starts. I still have to get him fitted for his uniform and buy his supplies. Plus, I promised him we'd go to Fun Forest and I always keep my word."

"No, you don't," Al snapped, pointing toward the source of the noise. "Do something about this! He didn't even speak to us!"

"Why should he? You left his party without speaking to him!"

"He is a *child*. He needs manners!"

"You're an adult! Lead by example!"

A moment later, the music stopped and Jack hopped down the stairs into the living room, Sprout hot on his heels. With a screech, the little boy leaped onto the sofa, causing Callie to almost jump out of her skin when he accidentally kicked her in the side. The dog attacked her a second later, climbing over Jack to plant both paws on her while he licked her face. Mark lifted the puppy and scratched it on the head as he put it back outside. Jack crossed his arms over his chest and said, "That's rude, Mark. That's my damn dog and I don't want him to go out freakin' side."

Callie laughed. She couldn't help it. With her head in her palm, she giggled like a man woman, prompting Jack to tap her on the shoulder. "Mom?"

"What, kiddo?" she asked, still chuckling.

"That's how you laugh when Mark tickles you under the cover in Gertie's bed."

"Oh! Okay!" Mark held out his hand. "Let's go fix you some lunch, buddy."

Jack bounced off the couch, clutching Mark's hand with both of his. "Can I have peanut butter and jelly? I really, really want it."

"Sure."

Callie's heart skipped several beats as she waited for her parent's to say something. She didn't know how Jack could possibly know that she had been anywhere near the nanny's bedroom or that she definitely spent hours laughing at Mark's many stories and jokes. She cleared her throat and stood, indicating the suitcase her father had brought in. "You're welcome to stay in the guest room and -"

"We much prefer the master bedroom, Calliope," Margie replied, her tone harsh. "I take it you are no longer sleeping there."

"Mark and I are not having sex," Callie said. "I know it's a shock and you probably don't believe me, but we're not."

Al rubbed a hand over his face. "We'll be staying at a hotel tonight and flying out in the morning."

Callie watched as her dad struggled with the handle on the suitcase and finally pulled it free. "I get why you're pissed at me. Okay? But I only made one real mistake and that was marrying George. It wasn't a mistake to divorce him. And as for Jack ... Jack is the best thing I've ever done." She glanced at her mother. "I look at Jack and I think that I'd do anything in the world to make him happy. Don't you want the same thing for me?"

"Of course I do," Margie replied.

"Then leave me alone. Let me make my own choices and even if you don't agree with them ... know that they're mine and *I* have to live with it. Not you."

"Not us?" Al asked. "Not us!? We don't have to live with your mistakes? Who do you think paid George O'Malley hush money to quietly sign the papers? Who do you think-"

"Al, stop." Margie sighed, reaching out to touch Callie on the cheek. "When children are little ... they walk on your toes. When they're adults, they walk on your heart. You have been walking on my heart for a while, but this year was too much. You eloped, you divorced, you -"

"Had a miscarriage," Callie cut in. She had not called them for that either. The prospect of hearing how it was *her* fault was just too much. "Yeah, I lost George's baby and he was already living the cliché with his mistress and didn't come ... even when they told him. You know who was there? Mark. He picked me up off the floor of the stairwell where I was screaming in pain and he sat beside me while I said goodbye to my baby. He's the reason I have Jack and he makes me happy. He makes my son happy and if you could try to look past *my* shortcomings and get to know him ... I think you'd be surprised."

"How could you not tell us this before now!?" Al cried. "We could have come! We could have - honestly, Calliope, this was our grandchild, too!"

"Because I already felt bad enough. I didn't need your help. And you would have done exactly what you're doing now. You would have made it my problem and -"

"We're going!" Al roared, taking Margie's hand. "You don't want us in your life that's fine! That's just fine! I wonder how you'll feel with none of our money!"

Callie watched them slam out of the house before she returned to the sofa and sat down.

Mark sat beside her and held out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "I guess it's a good thing I'm rich, huh? You won't miss their money at all."

"How in the *hell* did Jack know?" Callie asked, putting the sandwich down on the table. "How!? We were so careful."

Fighting hard not to laugh, he said, "Well, I asked him that very thing. He said that he had forgotten that he had put spiders in Gertie's bed and as soon as he remembered it ... he had to save me. So, he came down to play the hero and heard us laughing and figured you had found them instead and was helping me get them all up. I assured him that was the case."

"What did he say?"

"He asked me if I kissed you yet."

"What?!"

"He told me I could weeks ago."

Callie's jaw dropped. "Between the two of you ... I never had a fighting chance at all, huh?"

"Nope." Mark leaned forward and kissed her. She stiffened at first, but a second later she relaxed into him.

When they broke apart, Jack was kneeling beside the coffee table eating Callie's sandwich while he watched them with an innocent smile on his face. Callie sat up straight and said, "Jack, we need to -"

"Do you know who kisses moms? Dads." Jack looked at Mark pointedly. "If you're going to tickle my mom and kiss her then I have to call you dad."

"Oh, god." Callie wanted to hide under the sofa. She suddenly felt guilty for every embarrassing thing she had said in front of her parents.

Mark simply took the other half of the sandwich and bit into it. "That's fine with me, buddy."

"Thanks, Dad."

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie and Mark did not have a chance to be alone again and even when they were ... kissing was the most they could do because Callie's period arrived with a vengeance. Jack didn't want to go back to the nursery and Cristina stopped by nightly, bringing take out and playing with him. She also commented every time the new couple shared a kiss within his eyesight and Jack corrected her every time, saying that its what parents did. Cristina simply grinned, shaking her head at the scarlet blush that spread through Callie's tanned face.

Taking Jack for his uniform fitting turned out to be an adventure and the little boy's colorful commentary about the clothing caused both adults to step into the hallway to laugh. Afterward, they bought his school supplies and then headed to the hospital for their respective final check ups before they could be cleared for work. They left Jack at the nursery and Callie's heart skipped several beats when Mark casually took her hand in his as they walked toward the clinic. She held her head a little higher when several nurses drew up short and the smile on her face was nothing short of cocky. She didn't see it, but Mark did the same thing to George, who ran into the wall when he saw their laced fingers.

Cleared for work, they retrieved Jack and took him to the amusement park, where they sat side by side on various benches and enjoyed popcorn while they talked about nothing. And everything. Their easy banter and playful discussions were funny and unpredictable and they enjoyed every second of it.

Derek arrived that weekend and officially moved Mark into Callie's house. She had been in the pool with Jack when they arrived with Mark's boxes and she quickly wrapped a towel around herself and hurried inside. Instead of putting the boxes in the nanny's room, she directed them to hers and when Mark leaned down and kissed her, her toes curled. He joined them in the pool a little later, laughing when Jack cannon-balled right beside him, causing Callie to freak out.

"I'm fine," he assured her, pulling her against him. "Perfectly fine remember? No pain at all."

"Bailey said not to rush it."

"I heal fast." He touched her forehead, which had not scarred nearly as bad as he had expected. "Bailey said the same thing to you. Are you - how do you feel?"

"Yes, Mark. Tonight is the night. I had your things put in my room for a reason." She smiled devilishly. "As soon as the kid is in bed ..."

"How many hours is that?"

She glanced at her watch. "Eight? Possibly nine."

"I can last that long."

Callie kissed his neck. "I can't believe it's time to go back to work already."

"On the plus side," he said, "we have plenty of on call rooms and I'll be paging you to covert locations all day."

"Oooooh, I knew I loved my job."

Mark laughed when Jack, who was swimming underwater, grabbed his leg. "Looks like somebody wants to play."

Callie moved back as Mark dived under and grabbed the little boy. When they emerged, she smiled as he tossed him in the air the same way her own father had done when she was a child. Jack laughed that same innocent laugh she had laughed ... full of wonder and innocence ... when the only important things in life were how far your father could throw you and what it would feel like when you came down.

Jack reminded her that laughter was the best medicine.

And Mark reminded her that coming down into his arms was the safest place in the world.

*~*~*~*~

After a dinner of spaghetti, which completely shocked Jack's system since it was Sunday night, they watched a movie together. Jack fell asleep with his head in Mark's lap and his legs over Callie's and both adults laughed when he snored lightly. He had already changed into his Superman pajamas so Mark carried him up to bed and Callie tucked him in, kissing him softly on the forehead. Sprout, who had taken to house training with ease, followed them up and settled on his puffy bed in the corner. Callie rubbed the dog's head before she shut out the light and headed into her bedroom.

She was suddenly terrified.

For months, she had walked a line with Mark that was flirtatious and charged with sexual friction and tonight ... tonight was finally the moment they had waited for. She turned to face him when he walked in and shut the door. She bit her lip when he locked it. "I - I'm gonna take a shower."

"Okay." He watched her walk into the bathroom. Unless he was much mistaken, she was a nervous wreck.

Toeing off his shoes, he slipped his pants off and tossed his shirt on top of them. Left in his boxers, he sat down on the bed and gazed at the empty boxes he had yet to break down. There weren't many ... living in the Archfield had been space limited, but seeing them there, completely put together, made him feel like they were waiting for him to repack. And leave.

He got to his feet and made quick work of them, flattening each and sliding the stack under the bed. He'd get rid of them as soon as he could and then --- Callie was singing. He walked to the door and laid his head against it, listening. The steam from her shower rose around his feet and he opened the door, stepping into the sauna and shaking his head. The doctor in him wanted to remind her that hot water was horrible for the skin, but then he caught a glimpse of said skin, reddened from the heat, and he couldn't think of anything at all.

Callie was still happily singing when she felt his hands on her waist. She grinned and looked back at him over her shoulder. "Is it my singing that lured you or did you come in here to tell me to shut up?"

He reached up and adjusted the taps. "Your singing is beautiful, but that wasn't the lure. I can't wait another second, Callie. I just - I can't."

She turned to face him and he stepped back, sitting down on the wide ledge that had a separate set of jets to massage the back. When she took a step toward him, he held up a hand. "No. Just - let me watch for a minute."

"You want to watch me wash my hair?"

"Yes."

She shrugged and stepped under the spray, wetting her hair again. When she leaned over him to get the shampoo, she let her breasts rub against his thighs and smiled up at him. He probably wouldn't last through a lather, rinse, *repeat*, but it would be very fun to see just how far she could push him.

Mark looked at every inch of her. His parents had a Peter Paul Rubens painting in their drawing room, one that he used to sneak in to gaze at for hours at a time. It depicted Adam and Eve, standing at the tree of knowledge and they were both nude. Eve's ample hips and slightly rounded belly had caused Mark many sleepless nights and he used to pull his father's favorite chair under the artwork and reach, trying to touch her. Eventually, he was tall enough to touch with needing the chair and he would trace the contours or her curves with his fingers ... marveling that such beauty could be caught on canvas.

If the woman on that painting had been walking and breathing in this day and age ... it would be Callie. Her thighs were muscular, but sleek and her breasts were high, firm and rounded. They were the perfect size in contrast to her hips and Mark knew that he couldn't have constructed her any better. He palms itched to cup the roundness of her belly, to trace the slight love handle on her back. What most women would call imperfections ... looked just right on her as far as he was concerned.

She turned away from him and he studied her backside. His mouth was so dry when she bent down to retrieve the lid of her shampoo bottle that he couldn't swallow, could barely breathe at all. He watched her rinse her hair, watching the soap run through the ends of her hair, over her buttocks and down her thighs. When the water ran clean, he pushed himself to his feet and ran his hand over her midnight black locks ... following down her back to where the ends rested against the top of her backside. He had not realized how long her hair was when there was no curl.

"Callie-" he whispered her name like a prayer, full of hope, full of longing. "I think you should know that I'm in love with you."

Callie's eyes filled with tears and she nodded, looking up at him. "I think you should know that I'm in love with you, too. So ... be careful with me."

He kissed her, long and hard. His hands tangled in her hair and she pulled him flush against her body, clinging to his waist as she held onto him. They kissed until they were breathless, weak kneed, and panting for more. He eased her toward the ledge and she sat down when she felt it against the backs of her legs. Mark leaned down, still kissing her, then he kneeled before her. She instinctively covered her stomach and he pulled her hands away, whispering, "You're beautiful."

He moved his hands over her belly, then down her thighs, which he pushed apart. Cupping her behind the knees, he pulled her to the edge of the seat and lowered his head, kissing her naval, her ribs, then the curls between her legs. When he slipped his tongue against her center, her head fell back and she gasped his name. He had been right. She may go about her day smelling like vanilla, but she definitely tasted like chocolate. He didn't know how or why, but it was addictive and he couldn't get enough. Her body was sweet and smooth and he ravished her like she was the only sustenance to be found.

He teased her relentlessly, bringing her to the edge several times, forcing her to beg for release. He knew that he was tormenting her, that she was not the kind to plead with anyone and she was certainly not the kind to submit, but something held her there, forced her to let him have his way. It turned him on more than anything in the world to know that she was at his mercy only in that she *allowed* it, that she *would* allow it. She had taken charge the night in her hotel room and he had been nothing more than an amorous rag doll as she rode him into oblivion. And ride him she had.

It was his desire now and not hers that finally caused him to cave to her pleas. Before he acquiesced, he slipped two fingers into her and curled them upward, stimulating her G-spot as he latched onto her clit and hungrily sucked. He added a third finger a second later and smiled against her as her mouth dropped open and she clamped down on him.

Callie put a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs. Never, in her entire life, had an orgasm felt like *that*. Multiple quakes rocked through her as he continued to stroke her with his fingers and she didn't know if she should knock him backward on the shower floor and straddle him or lie limply against the shower stall and beg him to keep going. He made the decision for her when the hot water ran out.

Mark pulled her to her feet and when she stumbled, he picked her up in his arms. This was also a new experience for Callie. Most of the guys she had dated were not only shorter, they couldn't lift much more than a coffee cup. She buried her face against his neck, hugging him as he headed into the bedroom. She fleetingly thought that they should dry off, that they would soak the sheets, but then she was on her back and he was kissing a path up her legs and she didn't care if they flooded the entire house ... she needed him.

The moment he entered her, Callie's world came to a screeching halt. It spun off its axis and hung there, not rotating, not doing anything. Her eyes met his and she was stunned at what was reflected there. He had felt it, too, and when he pulled back slightly and entered her again, she was certain that their hearts had the same rhythm as their bodies and they were beating as one. It was perfect, it was calm and unhurried and when her back arched like a bow as another orgasm rocked through her, she didn't want to scream, she wanted to cry.

Mark picked up the pace, his eyes never leaving hers. The feel of her, the taste of her, the way she sighed his name ... it was his undoing. He had never, ever wanted a woman more than he wanted her and now that it was here, it was better than he had imagined. She molded against him, a perfect fit, and when he felt her spasm around him, he groaned her name, thinking that he could never get tired of saying it. Not in a million lifetimes. A moment later he collapsed against her, breathing that he loved her against her neck and he meant it with everything in him.

When he felt her shake beneath him, he pushed himself to his elbows and started to ask if she was cold, but the tears on her face suggested otherwise. "Oh my god," he said, trying to pull away. "I hurt you -- I was too-"

"No." She caught him, holding him with both arms. "You didn't."

"You're crying." He wiped her cheek, praying that she didn't regret it ... or the things they had said to one another. "Why?"

"Because," she replied, her voice shaking. "For the first time in my life ... someone touched my soul."

"Is that what it was?" he asked, kissing her softly. "Because mine felt the same thing."

She took a deep breath. "I'm scared. I didn't expect to fall."

"You didn't fall," he told her. "I caught you before you could and we're in this together."

"It looks that way." Grinning through her tears, she said, "Well, it wasn't dirty or cheerful this time. What would call it?"

He flashed her the smile that she called his toothpaste commercial one. "I'd call it perfect. And just the beginning."

Neither got much sleep that night.

The following morning, when Callie went into the bathroom to get dressed ... she saw that the bruises she had anticipated were not only there ... they were many and varied.

*She* had taken control the third time.

And she imagined that the scratches on his back and chest would remind him all day exactly what he had to look forward to that night.

*~*~*~*~*~