*~*~*~*~*~
Take a chance on me
Look a little deeper in my eyes
Don't you be sad now
I love you more than you realize
Won't you dance with me
Look a little deeper, see my dreams
Don't you ever doubt me
My love is all it seems
*~*~*~*~*~
Halloween came and went without incident unless you counted the temper tantrum Jack had when Callie refused to let him sleep with his candy. He had gotten so angry that he threw the entire bag and since they had stopped by the hospital with him first ... it was filled to capacity. Mark simply looked at Jack and the little boy hastily picked up every piece, apologized, and left it on the table while he changed into his pajamas. Callie assured Mark that his newly found 'dad' face was strong enough to rival her own father's and he seemed to enjoy that knowledge.
Taking down the nurses was an ongoing process. Callie decided to not give them any satisfaction the first two weeks. She saw them watching for a reaction from the photo and the only one they got was her not sitting next to Mark in the cafeteria ... she sat on his lap most of the time and sickened Cristina by actually feeding him grapes one day. Because Yang wanted the madness to stop, she agreed to help Callie up the torture and by mid-November, the nurses were being terrorized so badly that they had taken to walking the hallways in packs.
Spiders appeared in lockers. Real ones, not fake and Nurse Tyler loaned his eight foot pet python to Callie, who curled it up in the shower of the nurse's locker room and stood outside, listening to the screams while she held the door closed to prevent the terrified people from leaving the room. Mark stood a few feet away shaking his head as he watched her. She had a sweet, solemn smile on her face as she listened to the cries and it was endearing. And terrifying as hell.
Three days before Thanksgiving, two nurses threw in the towel and approached Callie in the lunch line to apologize. And beg her to stop. Callie glanced down at the stack of papers they carried and raised a brow, holding out her hand. She flipped through the most amazing photoshopped gallery she had ever seen. "Wow. Impressive. Much more impressive than your photo abilities."
"That was real!" Olivia said. "You pasted my head onto a woman doing ... farm animals!"
"I have better things to do than that. It wasn't me," Callie replied with a shrug.
"You did this!" Elise said, half sobbing as she held up a picture of her face attached to the naked body of a ninety year old man. "My *mother* visited me today and saw these!"
"She must be so proud," Callie told her. "Is she still around? I can show her your other modeling capabilities. You know ... where you try to dangle from the lips of someone in a committed relationship?"
"It was Olivia's idea!" Elise cried. "I just did the kiss because she was scared to."
Callie looked at Olivia, whose face matched her hair. "Syph nurse was scared to *kiss* someone? Damn, girl. If you kissed more and screwed around less you wouldn't have track marks on your ass from all the antibiotic injections."
"You win!" Olivia shouted. "Ha ha. The joke's on us and you win! So leave us alone!"
"Oh, you didn't get the memo?" Callie asked, looking serious. "Because everyone else knew that I won *weeks* ago. *Months*, really. I got the guy. I got the guy that is making you idiots crazy enough to keep making asses of yourselves. But I really appreciate the entertainment. Mark and I laugh a lot at your expense."
Olivia and Elise glared at her and stalked off, throwing furtive glances over their shoulders at her. Behind her, Cristina took a deep breath and said, "Is it finally fucking over?"
"I think so," Callie said, nodding her head. "Did you photoshop them?"
"Negative. I'm the spider girl, remember. Pacing the hallways looking for arachnids is time consuming. So, can I stop now?"
"Sure." Callie nudged her with her shoulder. "We're insanely cool, 'Stina. We are not squeamish around spiders, snakes or ... well, anything."
"I'm squeamish when you sit in Sloan's lap so please stop the insanity, sit in your own chair, and let him feed himself. I know it's a lot to ask, but I'd rather be blind than deal with the fluffy bunnies that pop up every time you do that."
"You need to get laid."
"Your place or mine?"
"Well, *now* is a fine time to proposition me! I spent weeks sleeping three feet from you!"
Cristina watched her friend sit down beside Mark and plant a kiss on his mouth. She wrinkled her nose and slumped into the seat beside his, narrowing her eyes when Sloan insisted that Callie try something on his tray and actually *fed* it to her. Happiness wasn't a horrible thing ... Cristina just wondered when it would be her turn for a little of her own.
She got her answer that afternoon when Erica Hahn hand picked her for a triple bypass that led to a more extensive procedure.
Cristina had all the right answers and anticipated what Hahn would ask for before the older woman could open her mouth an request it. Erica let Cristina take over halfway.
They had drinks that night ... a lot of drinks, even by Yang's standards.
And woke up together in Hahn's tiny studio apartment.
Cristina had no idea what to say and when the other woman leaned over and kissed her, she reciprocated. They spent the entire day together, laughing, eating, and flipping through the channels on Hahn's satellite dish. When Cristina realized that he blond was watching her closely, she shifted uncomfortably and said, "What?"
"I thought you were hung up on Torres," Hahn said simply.
"We're *friends*."
Hahn looked skeptical, but let it go. "You know, I don't think you were sleeping with attendings to get ahead now. I think attendings were sleeping with you ... because you make sense."
"Is that one of your famous backhanded compliments?" Yang asked.
"No. Not at all." Hahn reached over the pillow and took her hand. "Would you have dinner with me tomorrow?"
Cristina took a deep breath and studied the other woman's face. Her lips were not plump and full. Her hair was not crazy long and black as sin and when she smiled, she didn't have a perfect row of teeth that drew your attention and forced you to smile as well ... but she was there. And she was asking.
And Yang needed someone to take care of her for a while.
"I don't want anyone to know. For a while." Cristina took a deep breath. "Because you put the rumor out that I was sleeping my way to the top and well ... I don't want people to think I really am."
"I understand." Hahn leaned over and pushed a lock of Cristina's hair behind her ear. "Your hair ... the way it curls, the color ... it's intoxicating."
Cristina simply nodded.
She knew how that felt, too.
A certain bonecrusher's hair had the same effect on her.
*~*~*~*~*~
Thanksgiving blew Jack's mind. While the dinner was not a huge ordeal, having so many visitors definitely was and he wound up needing a nap to calm him down after he was thoroughly spoiled and thoroughly stuffed with turkey. Getting him to lie down was akin to holding him in scalding water and he kicked Mark so hard that a bruise would be on his thigh for the remainder of the week. Callie's parents arrived that same afternoon with her two youngest brothers in tow. Dezi and Diego, twins, had just turned twenty one and they attacked Callie's liquor cabinet with gusto. It was a move they would both regret later that night, but no one attempted to stop them. Sometimes growing pains were amusing to no end.
Al and Margie were very nice to Mark, who turned on the charm with Margie so much that Callie had to laugh. Just like she had, her mother fell under his spell and was eating out of the palm of his hand by the time Dezi and Diego began to vomit all over themselves and the hearth. Callie hauled them to their feet by their ears and planted them outside in the cold with trash cans between their knees. She locked them out of the house for good measure.
The next morning, she laid on the guilt trip so thick that they were both near tears. Their only nephew had witnessed them so intoxicated that he had cried thinking they were sick enough to die. The twins spent the remainder of their visit playing with Jack in his tree house and Callie didn't let them take any Motrin for their headaches. Every single time Jack shrieked in the backyard ... she hoped it went straight through their heads. And the matching expressions they wore when they apologized and left with Al and Margie later that afternoon was proof positive that it had worked.
Even though it was early in the season, Mark and Callie took Jack shopping for a Christmas tree that night. They chose a large one that hung off the front and back of the roof of Mark's SUV. It was a madhouse as they pushed through the shoppers who had seized the day after Thanksgiving sales, but by the time they arrived home, their noses red and their arms full of decorations, it was worth it.
Jack had never experienced a real Christmas in his life and he questioned everything: the lights, the bulbs, the tinsel and the wreath on the door. They had let him pick the decorations, mostly cartoon characters, and after Callie kneeled beside him in the store to explain what the many tree toppers signified, he had chosen an Angel, saying that she looked like his mom. Mark carried the little boy up the ladder once the tree was covered in ornaments and lights and held him out to put the Angel in place.
Jack declared that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life and sat beside the tree for close to an hour, watching the lights twinkle while Sprout slept beside him. When he saw the extra lights that had not been utilized on the tree, he crawled into Mark's lap with them and asked if he would hang them in his bedroom. Mark not only hung them ... he used thumb tacks to make a star and read the final chapter of Harry Potter to Jack, who threw another tantrum because the book ended. It got so bad that Mark had to physically restrain him and it took Callie twenty minutes to doctor the scratches on Mark's hands.
After Jack was asleep, Mark and Callie sank into the round garden tub facing one another. The room smelled like a botanical garden thanks to the scented bubbles she had poured into the tub. He appreciated many things about Callie and as he let his gaze wonder over her bare shoulders, he realized that the bronzed quality of her skin was one of the best. Against the stark white tub and bubbles, she looked like she had been sunbathing in Hawaii for months.
"What are you staring at?" she asked him, nudging him with her toe.
He tugged her foot onto his chest and massaged it. "You really are a beautiful woman."
"What have you done?" she asked, pinning him with a gaze that could make Jack stop, drop, and roll.
"Fallen a little deeper."
"Really? And why is that?"
"Jack's not the only one experiencing a real Christmas for the first time."
Her smile faded. "Your parents -"
"Were Jehovah's Witnesses. They didn't believe in holidays or birthdays or ... anything."
"Oh crap." Callie put a hand over her face, covering it with bubbles. "I didn't even think to ask you if you were okay with all this."
"I said my *parents*, Cal. I remain ever steadfast in my belief that there's no higher power." He picked up a wash cloth that was dry and folded neatly on the ledge of the tub. Sitting up, he brushed the soap from her face. "What about you? Your mom was talking about it. She said that you really got into the church as a kid and was shocked that you weren't taking Jack."
"I broke up with God."
"When?"
"When he gave me bone cancer." She rubbed his bicep absently. "It was like he put a big target on my back that only assholes could see and ... it was bad. I mean ... I became a bone doctor so that I could break what broke me."
Her brow creased and he kissed it, saying, "Kids were pretty mean to you, huh?"
She bit her bottom lip. "Mean doesn't begin to describe it."
"Tell me about it."
"No. That's the last thing I want to talk about tonight. Not after Jack's tantrum. God, it's getting worse with him."
"It's because he's being forced to talk about what happened at the group with Dr. Monroe. That's all it is." He dried his hand on the wash cloth and cupped her face. "I'd like to hear about *your* childhood."
"Pick another topic." She forced herself to smile at him even though her stomach was clenched in knots at the thought of revisiting her past. "Anything."
"First boyfriend. Tell me about him."
"Rick Sanchez. I met him in college." She laughed at the shock on his face. "I was a late bloomer. Contrary to what you see on Lifetime or after school specials, boys really don't want to date girls who have no hair and I didn't really grow it back until my senior year. I met Rick my first week at Duke. He asked me out and because I was still at the point where I didn't know if remission would last ... I moved into his apartment about three weeks later. If 'moving fast' had an entry in the dictionary ... my face would be there."
"I bet your parents loved that."
"They didn't know for almost six months." Her eyes met his. "My car was in the shop and I needed to go to the library so I took his Camaro while he was asleep. I wasn't used to driving it so I hit a telephone pole and ... I wasn't worried because I knew I could get it fixed, but he ... he had a temper."
"He hit you?" Mark growled.
"I was in the hospital for two weeks."
"Oh, baby." Mark took her hands in his. "So, your dad killed him, right?"
"I didn't tell my parents right away. I didn't even call to tell them I was in the hospital. I did tell the police and he went to jail." Callie smiled at him. "I was in that bed for fourteen days getting more and more pissed with every second that passed. The day I was released I went to our apartment and packed my things and the girl across the hall told me that Rick was out on bail and would be home soon. The second he parked and got out of the car, I put mine in drive and I turned our street into a demolition derby. I crashed into his car until they were both totaled. I went to jail so I had to call my parents."
"Holy shit."
"I know it sounds crazy, but in *that* moment Rick was cancer and I couldn't let it beat me." She shrugged. "That's why I was so mortified when I hit you, Mark. I've *never* done that to someone that I care about and ... knowing how it felt -"
"It's not even close to the same thing so stop thinking it is." He kissed her. "Where is this guy at now? I'd love to talk to him. I mean ... until I cut his tongue out."
"Aww, that's so sweet. He went to jail for almost a year and I don't know where he is now."
"What happened to you?"
"My dad hired a kick ass attorney who said that I had post traumatic stress or something and I got community service. And the joy of irreparably damaging my relationship with my parents. They never trusted my judgment after that, but I did. Well, until George anyway."
Mark pulled her into his lap and ran his hands over her legs, then her hips. The water was cooling off rapidly so he reached behind her and turned on the hot, letting a little drain out as he did so. "Just in case your parents didn't say it enough, Callie, I'm proud of you."
"Proud?"
"I am." He laid his hands on either side of her waist as he gazed up at her. "You're the strongest person I've ever known."
"Only when I'm with you." She leaned down and kissed him, shivering slightly. "It's cold in here."
Mark slipped his hand between her legs. "Bet I could warm you up."
"Do it now."
He did.
*~*~*~*~*~
Callie had to work on the twenty second of December and Mark had the day off. He was at home when the call from the school came in. He was told that Jack had violently attacked a teacher and would be suspended for the remainder of the day and the first three back from their winter holiday. The first thing Mark did was call Callie's cell phone. It went straight to voice mail and a quick inquiry at the hospital confirmed that she was in a long and tedious surgery. He demanded that her operation be interrupted and waited by the phone for the less than five minutes for her to call back. She told him to go and get their son and to let her know what had transpired.
Jack was sitting in the principal's office when Mark arrived. Just like he had done in Dr. Monroe's presence, he lifted his foot into the chair and began meticulously untying and retying his shoe. Kneeling down next to the chair, Mark said, "You want to tell me what happened?"
"Not really," Jack replied.
Principal Hayman motioned for Mark to take a seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "It would appear that Jack took great offense at a conversation he overheard between two teachers."
"What kind of conversation?" Mark asked.
"Sisters Mary Hazel and Mary Francesca were discussing Santa Claus and pondering aloud the choice that some parents make to ... foster the belief in a ..."
"They said Santa wasn't real!" Jack cried suddenly. "Mary Hazel *yelled* that my mom lied to me about Santa."
"And that's not all," Hayman replied, raising a brow at the little boy. "Tell your father what else you said. And did."
Jack covered his face and looked at Mark through his hands. "Am I in big trouble?"
"I don't know yet." Mark pulled his hands down. "What did you do?"
With a deep, exaggerated breath, Jack said, "I called Mary Hazel a stupid bitch whore and because Mary Francesca tried to grab me ... I punched her a bunch of times in her fat belly and called her a bastard."
Mark shifted uncomfortably. Jack had seen McDeaver do the same thing to Jane, whoever that was. So much of Jack's past was a shaded mystery. "What have I told you about hitting women?"
"They ain't women! They're nun-bats!"
Mark glared at the little boy until he looked away and then turned his attention back to the principal. "Mr. Hayman, I'm really sorry about this and I'll make sure that it doesn't happen again. With that being said, however, it is not up to the staff at this school to 'ponder aloud' what parents choose to allow their children to believe. We pay tuition fees for you to teach our child ... not to pass judgment and certainly not to contradict us."
"Yes, sir," Mr. Hayman replied, nodding. "Be that as it may ... we have a zero tolerance policy on violence and if an outburst like this occurs again then we will be forced to act accordingly."
"Oh? And how might that be?"
"We don't have to accept Jack at our school. I can assure you the tuition you pay will not make or break us."
"You're right." Mark tilted his head to one side. "It's my understanding that most of my colleagues send their children here as well. I'm sure they'd be very interested in the fact that Santa Claus was enough of a problem that Mary Hazel felt the need to shout at a five year old child. And call his mother a liar. I'm sure you'd miss the tuition of oh ... twenty children."
Mr. Hayman swallowed hard. Mark got to his feet and held his hand out to Jack, who took it and crawled out of the seat. "Tell Mr. Hayman that you're sorry, buddy."
"I'm sorry," Jack said softly. "But Santa *is* real and your old nuns *are* bats."
"Have a good day," Mark told the old man, leading Jack from the room.
In the hallway, Jack stumbled over his feet and hefted his backpack a little higher. "Are you gonna tell my mom?"
"Yes."
"Crap. I said about fifty eleven cusses and she's gonna take all my money," Jack looked up at his dad. "How'm I gonna buy presents if she keeps getting it out of my bank?"
Mark smiled down at him. "You want to spend your money on presents?"
"Yep!" Jack replied, hopping down the steps instead of walking. "I even been finding change in the couch and dollars in the wash machine, too. 'Stina was 'sposed to take me shopping, but she hadda work."
Envisioning the shirt that Jack had purchased for him, Mark gritted his teeth. "You want me to take you? I'm off today."
"If I let you take me will you not tell my mom?"
Mark picked him up for the walk across the street to Seattle Grace. He put the backpack over his own shoulder and said, "Okay, I won't tell her."
"Yay!!"
"You're going to tell her."
"Boo!" Jack gazed up at the hospital. "Can I leave out the bad cusses?"
"Nope."
"Damn."
*~
Callie took the news remarkably well. She was stuck at work for several more hours and scrubbed out of surgery long enough to handle Jack, who burst into tears when she asked him if he understood that hitting was wrong. He sobbed pitifully, his head on the conference room desk, and after he swore that he'd never do it again, Callie hugged him and turned him over to Cristina, who was waiting anxiously in the hallway to talk to him. Callie was convinced that she was giving him pointers on better ways to torment the nuns as their heads went together and they both spoke at once.
"What are we going to do?" Callie asked as Mark walked her back to the OR. "These meetings with Dr. Monroe are doing more harm than good. He's angry all the time now."
Mark shook his head. "Some things have to get worse before it gets better."
"We can't hold the prosecutor off any longer, Mark. He wants to talk to Jack right after Christmas."
"Damn it," he said. "Have you talked to Philip? What does he say?"
"He says that we need to get it over with." Callie rubbed her forehead. "I hate this."
"Is your head hurting again?" Mark cupped her face when she nodded. "That's the fourth one in two weeks."
"It's stress. I used to get them all the time."
"I'm going to get Derek to take a look at you."
"Mark-"
"Humor me."
After kissing her goodbye, Mark took Jack home to get his money and then took him to the mall. They walked around aimlessly for two hours before Jack found Cristina a red pillow. He told Mark that she liked red pillows and only had one. It was satin with black cherry blossoms adorning the corners. Afterward, Jack wandered toward the jewelry store and peered at the array of sparkling jewels, his little hands flat against the glass. He made two rounds in the store before he tugged Mark's pants legs and said, "My mom would like that."
Mark squatted down and gazed at the large engagement ring. It looked antique. The diamond was square and surrounded by a border of smaller diamonds. The white gold band was covered in stones as well. It was certainly prettier than the necklace he had already bought to give Callie on Christmas morning.
Jack tapped him on the shoulder. "Moms are supposed to have rings. Dads too."
"Well, you certainly have good taste."
"I want to buy it for her," Jack said, digging into his pocket and pulling out the eighty four dollars that remained of his allowance. "I can, right?"
Mark watched the little boy meticulously straighten his cash, smoothing out the wrinkles against the glass. Looking back at the ring, Mark took a deep breath. "You can't, buddy, but I can."
"You can?" Jack asked, his voice full of hope. "I sure do like it."
"I sure do like it, too." Mark got to his feet and motioned for the clerk to come over. His hands were shaking as she handed him the ring and he studied it for a long while. It would be perfect against her skin. He noticed his son peering up at him and held it out. "Wanna see?"
Jack gingerly took the ring and slipped it onto his thumb, looking at it from every angle. "It's like our Christmas lights! It's sparkly!"
"It sure is." Mark picked him up and held onto him. Callie had never implied that she wanted to get married again. Her divorce had almost killed her and he had no idea if she would be receptive. The thought of her saying no was enough to give him heart failure.
Jack seemed to sense his hesitation. "Don't you want to marry us, Dad?"
"What do you know about marriage?"
"The dad tells God that he won't never leave. So it's telling us, too."
Mark plucked the ring off Jack's thumb and held it out to the girl behind the counter. "We'll take it."
"He's good," the woman said, nodding at Jack.
"Tell me about it." Mark grinned like he had never grinned before.
*~*~*~*~*~
Christmas Eve found Mark and Callie getting dangerously tipsy on egg nog as they assembled Jack's bicycle. It took forever, since they kept getting carried away with making out. By the time the bike was finished it was close to one a.m. and she was yawning so much that he took pity on her. Pulling her to her feet, he gave her a kiss and said, "Let's go to bed."
"You have to eat the cookies that he left out for Santa."
Mark picked up one of the gingersnaps and smiled at her, taking a bite. He grimaced and said, "Jack wasn't lying about you not being able to make cookies. It tastes like shi-"
She smacked him on the ass and darted up the stairs when he chased after her. He caught her and fell back onto the bed with her in his arms, rolling fast to pin her. With a coy smile, she batted her eyelashes at him. "If you let me go I'll give you an early present."
"Blackmail?"
"The last time you held me down ... you tickled me until I almost wet my pants. You have no stopping sense."
"What kind of present?"
"Let me go and I'll show you."
He did as she asked and watched her get to her feet. "Does it involve you covered in anything edible?"
"Reign in the hormones, lust puppy, that'll come," she replied, taking a deep breath. "I could give this to you later tonight, well - technically today, but I have a feeling that Jack will be in overdrive all day and ... I'd rather do it while we're alone."
"Well, now I'm more curious than lust stricken." He sat up and smiled at her. "Can you at least get naked before you give it to me?"
"Nope." She opened her closet and dug into the back of it, then returned to the bed with a package the size of a shirt box. Holding it out, she sat beside him and said, "I couldn't think of anything I wanted you to have more than this. I mean ... you have other gifts under the tree, but this ... this is a big one."
"And you really want me to open it right now?"
"Yep." Callie's heart was pounding so hard that she thought it would crack through her rib cage.
She watched him tear into the festive paper and break the tape that held the box lid in place. Holding her breath, she waited for him to peel back the tissue and glanced at his face as he revealed the photo of Jack. When Mark lifted it, her eyes filled with tears. Behind it was an envelope with a red ribbon around it. He leaned the photo against his chest and opened it.
A petition for adoption was inside ... already signed by her ... and Jack for good measure. She took a deep breath and said, "He learned cursive for you. Actually, he traced that damn napkin you wrote his name on so many times that he ripped it and cried for hours."
Mark looked up from the paper, his vision so blurred that he could barely see her. "You - you're letting me adopt him?"
"If you want to."
"If I want to. *If*?" He looked back down at the photo and smiled when one of his tears dropped onto it. "You're the only woman who has ever made me cry, Callie."
"Well, I promise not to abuse that."
"Does Jack know? Did you explain it to him?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Why not? Wait, you were afraid I'd say no?" He looked aghast. "That should have never crossed your mind."
She grinned at him. "I didn't tell him because I thought you'd want to. And I didn't know if he could keep a secret."
"He can."
Callie eyes widened. "Has he been keeping secrets for you?"
"He helped me pick out one of your gifts."
"Ooooh, can I have it now?"
He shook his head. "It's from both of us and he'd kick my ass if I didn't give it to you in front of him."
"Damn."
"But I'll give you something else." He pulled her to her feet and pulled the belt on her robe. Putting his hands on her hips, where festive red bikini panties with the candy canes rested, he grinned at her. "How about an orgasm in less than a minute."
"You really have a lot of faith in yourself, Sloan."
He pushed her robe over her shoulders and into the floor, then tugged her red tank top over her head. "You made a believer out of me."
*~*~*~*~*~
"SANTA CAME!" Jack screamed, barreling through his parent's bedroom door. "I knew he'd come! I wasn't *too* bad!"
Callie groaned when Jack leaped onto the bed and started to jump. "Is it even daylight yet?"
Mark peered out from under the cover with one eye and shook his head. "Not enough."
"Get up! Get up! Get up!" Jack screeched, still hopping up and down. "Get! Up!"
"Okay, okay," Callie grumbled, shoving back the cover. She had anticipated Jack's very rude wake up call and had pulled on her pajamas after all was said and done. "Note to self ... less than a minute in Mark Sloan time is *three* hours."
Mark lifted his head and glared at her. "You weren't complaining last night."
"COME ON, DAD!!" Jack wailed, pulling back the cover. "You can even open your present first."
It took a lot out of him, but Mark got to his feet and followed Callie and Jack out of the room. He stopped in the office to retrieve the video camera and then sat down beside Callie to watch the little boy dive headfirst under the tree. A few moments later, after Jack had grunted and pulled out a small box, Mark opened his gift from his son. It was a pen set and there was no doubt at all that the gold trim was real. "Thanks, buddy."
Jack pointed at the smaller pen that was next to the standard sized one. "That's one that I can use while you teach me joined up writing some more. I used it to put my name on some papers that Mom got from Philip. It made it real good."
Mark smiled down at him. "You know what those papers meant?"
"What?" Jack asked.
"They're adoption papers," Mark told him, watching his face closely. "If you say it's okay ... I'd like to use this pen and sign them. That means you'd -"
"I'd be yours?" Jack looked from Mark to Callie, who nodded at him. His eyes filled with tears. "You're giving me away?"
"No!" She picked him up and settled him in her lap. "It just means that Mark would be your dad in every way."
"He already is."
Mark kissed him on the forehead. "You bet I am."
"You can have me, Dad. You can use your pen on the papers." With a nod, Jack hugged him. "Uhm ... can I ride my bike now?"
Callie narrowed her eyes at him, then glanced behind her where Jack's bicycle was hidden under a red tarp. "What makes you think you have a bike?"
"You said I couldn't peek until Christmas!" Jack laughed. "I waited a real long time! And Santa don't like your cookies neither. If he broke his teeth off I bet he wouldn't have left me a bike."
Mark threw his head back and laughed. "He's just like me."
"God help me."
Jack made quick work of his presents, stopping only to watch Mark and Callie exchange a few of their own. He tolerated the clothing that his grandparents had sent him, but liked the robot they had sent ten times better. He was so enamored with it that he didn't want to open his final gift, but Callie assured him that he'd want to. Cristina had insisted on getting him a large remote controlled air plane and for a second, Callie was sure that her son would faint from sheer joy.
"Oh man oh man!" he cried rapturously. "Can I fly it now? Can I, huh?"
"Not yet." Mark pointed under the tree. "You have to give your mom what you got her."
Rushing back to the tree, Jack lifted a long, narrow box and presented it to Callie. He grinned when she struggled with all the tape that was on it and laughed when Mark had to get the scissors. "I wrapped it my own self."
"I can tell." She eventually got into it and gasped when she opened the box and saw the necklace inside. It was beautiful, white gold, with a large ruby on the end, Jack's birthstone.
"Put it on!" he cried.
Callie held out the necklace to Mark and lifted her hair. He fastened it on her neck and kissed it for good measure. She kneeled down and hugged her son, hanging on tight. "I love you, Jack."
"I love you, too!" Jack took a step back and held up another box, this one unwrapped. "Your turn, Dad."
Mark decided that he shouldn't have become a surgeon. His hands were shaking so badly again that he almost dropped the velvet box when he took it from the little boy. Holding it in his palm, he looked at Callie. "Last night you gave me one of the two greatest gifts on the planet. You gave me a child. A lot of people would probably say that's enough and that I shouldn't ask for more, but I know what I want. What I need.
"I need you. And I have no doubt that I'll need you for the rest of our lives and I'll love you that long and a million years after that." He dropped onto one knee and opened the box. "So, I'm asking you to marry me because that's the only thing in this world that I still need. To be complete."
Callie closed her eyes. The room was spinning ... spinning ... and her ears were ringing. Images flashed, unbidden, unwanted in her head. George on his knees. George telling her that he loved her. George telling her that he had cheated. George sitting across from her at the final meeting with the attorney, not bothering to look at her after he scribbled his name on the divorce papers.
And then she saw her baby, nothing more than a tiny, bloody clump ... the final part of George that had been wrenched from her womb the same way Izzie Stevens had wrenched her husband from her heart.
The word formed in the back of her mind and as she remembered the way her palms had sweat at the Church of Elvis, the way the garishly dressed preacher had snarled his way through the ceremony pretending to be the King, she shook her head. And the word took flight. "No."
Jack burst into tears.
Callie fled the room.
And Mark stayed on his knees wondering if he would ever be able to rise again.
*~*~*~*~*~