Title: Extraordinary Measures
Author: J.M. Flowers
Rating: M
AN: So, no one really understood the "one more chapter and then an epilogue" but I guess that works fine, because the more I think about it, the more I realize this chapter is Callie's epilogue. That being said - there are twenty chapters to this story, not nineteen. That means I'll see you all back here next Sunday - my 21st birthday - as we finish the journey. Have an extraordinary week! xoxo JM
Amor animi arbitrio sumitur, non ponitur
We choose to love, we do not choose to cease loving
Banging. I stutter to consciousness, bleary-eyed and exhausted. It's been a long, long week and my God he doesn't let up.
"Callie!" he yells again, knocks still not ceasing.
I throw open the door, running a hand down my face. "Jeez, Mark," I mutter, shoving my pager into the pocket of my leather jacket. He grabs my arm, tugging me alongside him.
"This isn't something you want to miss, Cal."
We stop in the hospital lobby, craning our necks to get a proper view of what's happening on the boardwalk above. Teddy, buzzing from surgery, appears at one end, scrub cap still on and gown billowing in the breeze. My gaze drifts to the other side, where he walks toward her - slow, purposeful steps. She lights up, dazzling smile ripping across her features.
He kneels before she can reach him and yammer on about the surgery she just rocked. And it's him, down on one knee in front of her, that finally casts her into stunning silence.
I watch his mouth move, the words barely above a whisper. Just for her to hear; for her alone. "Yes," she sobs, laughter bubbling out of her loudly and echoing in the open space. He slides a ring onto her finger, kisses her lips, buries his hands in her hair.
A cheer erupts around me, a group of nurses and doctors and a few residents. April Kepner hugs another fellow, both of them giggling with delight. Happiness.
Everything as it's meant to be.
I feel a single tear roll down my cheek; a smile split my features. This is what she wanted - all of this. Teddy, with her happily ever after and a man who loves her, a chance at a future Arizona and I never would've had. This is the fate Teddy deserved.
She was right, when she said you can't meddle with destiny without consequences. Little actions make ripples - ripples that rock the existence of those around us. Like boats on water, we are all floating out at sea. All it takes is one change, one wave, for someone to capsize. But it's never you, left drowning in your own wake; it's always those brave enough to float alongside you.
"Drinks at Joe's!" he yells from above, holding Teddy's hand high in victory. "On me!"
Another cheer. More laughter.
"You in, Cal?" Mark asks.
I shake my head. "I think I'm just gonna head home. She'll understand."
"Oh, come on, Callie," Mark frowns. "Come celebrate."
"No, really," I say, already backing away. "I'm tired, I'll catch Teddy tomorrow and buy her lunch or something. Tell her I'm really, really happy for them."
He doesn't argue when I walk out the hospital doors.
Even outside, the energy carries; young interns whooping as they make their way across the parking lot. Joe's will be overrun tonight - every person who can get away crowding into the place to toast the happy couple. But I'll see her tomorrow. I'll give my congratulations in the morning light, with a hug and a promise to help her plan the wedding.
Tonight, though; tonight I just need a moment for myself.
I climb the stairs to my apartment two at a time. Shove my key into the lock and then click it shut behind me. Drop my purse beside the island. I dig a lighter out of the junk drawer, shaking it slightly to make sure there's still fluid inside. Tonight, I need it.
Tonight, I need Arizona.
I light candles as I go - burning a healthy glow through the apartment. I've arranged them on end tables, in glass jars, across the bathroom counter. The bathroom dances in candlelight as I turn the water on, filling up the tub.
It takes a few minutes, but finally the smell fills the air: coconut candles. I lower myself into the bathwater, breathing a sigh of relief. I close my eyes and it's like my face is buried in my hair. Like she's all around me, still. Outside it begins to rain again in earnest, another September storm passing through. I wonder, however briefly, if it's raining where she is.
Three months since my return, and I still find myself clinging to the vestiges of her. The coconut candles on every free surface, the hazelnut coffee on the top shelf of the cupboard, the box of articles in the guest room closet. But it's less painful, now, to keep her all around me. Less painful to watch life keep moving.
I know now that I can do nothing less than keep up.
It's easier, somehow, to understand that we were never meant to have forever. However unfair, we had the time we had, every beautiful moment. That first kiss in the bar bathroom. Dancing in our apartment long before it was ever our apartment. Our wedding.
We were never meant to grow old together - it wasn't in the cards for us. But we got a second chance to say goodbye and, on nights like this one, that alone is enough to remind me that tomorrow is another day - not another step away from her. She is all around me, always.
You never lose the love of your life.
Even Denia had said it, the night she called to tell me Dr. Lewis had passed away. She'd uttered it then, that he carried on. That she carried him within her, that he would remain as long as she remembered him. The people we love don't die; they only stop living. They don't stop existing unless they are forgotten.
And moving on doesn't mean I'll forget Arizona. Taking the days, one by one, and surviving them doesn't mean that she's less a part of me. She doesn't die because I choose to live; she lives on with me. She's there, with every breath, every sunrise. Every time I throw open the curtains, or eat donuts for breakfast, I know she's with me.
I open my eyes, glancing around the room. A single candle has blown out, smoke billowing from the wick. I can't help but smile; no matter where I am, I feel it.
Her love.
