Chapter 6

I let out a sigh as I hold Mark's hand, listening to the consistent droning of the respirator. "Today is the day," I mumble as I fiddle with the hem of my dress with my other hand. "I need you there to hold my hand while I get through this, Mark. I'm going to be all alone.

"You're not going to be alone," I hear Meredith say from the doorway. I look up and my eyes meet her sympathetic ones. "We're not going to let you go through this alone. You have us."

I nod subtlety. "Is it time?" I ask softly. Meredith nods. I let out a sigh as I squeeze Marks hand. I kiss his cheek before I turn to follow Meredith.

We walk to the gravesite. There is a closed coffin that sits under a tent with chairs set up. And without reading it, I know what the tombstone next to the grave says. I freeze when I see Arizona's parents. I start hyperventilating and muttering, "I can't do this, I can't do this."

"You can do this," I feel someone grab my hand and look over to see it's Meredith. "We have to do this. One step at a time." I nod slowly, squeezing her hand as we walk to the chairs. I sit in the front row next to Arizona's parents but I don't make eye contact. This is the second child they've lost, I think to myself as tears prick the back of my eyes. Meredith starts to let go of my hand and I squeeze it and look up at her, pleading for her not to leave. She nods and sits down next to me. Derek joins her shortly after but I hardly notice. My heart simply aches.

The funeral is a blur. My mind is everywhere but the present. I recap all my moments with Arizona; when she kissed me in the bathroom at Joe's, our budding relationship, her somehow turning my father's heart around after he disowned me, when she asked me to marry her on our way to a B&B, the moment I said "I do"…all the way up until our final kiss before surgery a week ago. I know we've had our share of fights, even break ups, and yet not a single one comes to mind. All that I'm reminded of is the joy…and the heartache because it's over. It feels suffocating. The suffocating feeling only is made worse by everyone giving their condolences at the reception. I can hardly acknowledge most of them. Eventually, I slip away from the reception and make my way back to the hospital. I find an empty on call room and allow myself to cry until I pass out from exhaustion.

"Callie…Callie," I hear someone call out. I tiredly pick my head off Mark's bed and look toward the door to see Derek. I rub my eyes as Derek says, "You've been here for a week. You haven't even seen patients. You need to go home and get some rest."

"I'm not going home," I grumble. "I'm fine, I just want to stay with Mark until he gets better."

"He's being monitored," Derek says. "But the nurses said they haven't even seen you leave to get food or anything. You need to nourish yourself too."

I shake my head, "I'm fine, Derek. Can you just sit in here for a minute while I run to the bathroom? I'll be right back."

"I'll stay with him the rest of the day," Derek says. "You need to take care of yourself."

I roll my eyes as I stand up, ignoring the pounding in my head. "I am fine, Derek. Don't worry about me," I mumble. I take a couple steps forward before the room starts spinning. I hear Derek call my name but I don't acknowledge it as my knees buckle and I collapse.

I groan as I blink my eyes awake. I go to rub my eyes and wince as I feel a tug on my arm. I look down and see an IV. I follow the line up to the bag and notice Derek watching me from his seat beside my bed. My eyes widen. "Why aren't you with Mark?!" I question as I sit up, trying to unhook myself from my IV. "Someone needs to be with Mark. I have to get over there."

"Hey, hey, hey, easy," Derek says as he firmly puts his hands on my shoulders and holds me down. "You're severely dehydrated, you're malnourished, you need to be off your feet until you get some nutrients in you."

"No, I have to be with Mark," I say frantically, fighting against Derek but to no avail. "He can't be alone."

"Mark isn't alone," Derek says, furrowing his brows. "He's got nurses monitoring him around the clock."

"I thought that about Arizona too," I say, my voice catching. "I thought she was fine too, that she was being monitored. But I left her and now she's dead. I left Mark and he went into a coma. I'm not leaving Mark alone so he can die while I'm not there."

Derek studies my face. A sympathetic look washes over his face. Finally, he says, "I promise you; I'll watch over Mark. I'll make sure nothing happens to him. But you have to eat, you have to drink, you have to sleep."

"What's the point?" I ask. "My wife is dead. My best friend is going to be unplugged in two weeks if he doesn't improve. What's the point of taking care of myself when everyone I love is dead or dying?!"

Derek freezes for a moment. He sits up, taking his hands off my shoulders. He gives a hard look before saying, "Arizona and Mark aren't the only ones who care about you. I care about you, Meredith cares about you, Bailey cares about you. You are not alone. But if you can't eat for us, if you can't take care of yourself for us, then for God's sakes take care of yourself for Arizona and Mark! You and I both know they would not accept you acting like this. So pull it together for them."

I stop for a moment and study his face. I see the sincerity but firmness in his eyes. Guilt floods my gut and I finally nod my head. "I'm…I'm sorry," I say softly as I hang my head.

Derek gently puts his hand on my shoulder. "I'll send a nurse in to bring you some food. And I'll see if Mer can come in and hang out with you for a bit. I will go stay with Mark. You take care of you today." I nod slowly as Derek walks out of the room. I lay my head on the pillow and let out a huge sigh, tears slowly rolling down my face.

Thirty days. Thirty days is how long Mark wanted to be kept on life support before his care was withdrawn. And now, at five o'clock, those thirty days will be up.

For the first time since the plane crash, I stand in an O.R. with Derek. The idea of him using the hand I repaired distracts me from what's happening at five. I cleared him for surgery weeks ago, but now that he says he's ready, I am excited to see my work in action.

The O.R. erupts in applause as Derek approaches the table. I smile under my mask as Derek gives me a look. "I had nothing to do with this," I try to say innocently. His face doesn't change and I add, "Okay, I maybe had a little to do with this."

"Well thank you everyone," Derek says. "It's really no big deal." The room waits in anticipation. Finally, Derek notices and says, "What?"

"You have to say it," I say excitedly.

Derek smiles under his mask. He lets out a sigh before saying, "It's a beautiful day to save lives." I can't help but smile as we dive into surgery.

"I needed this," I say as we get a view of the spine in front of us. "It's nice to have my hands on a problem I could actually fix." I hear something clatter to the floor and I immediately look up and see Derek opening and closing his hand. My eyes meet his in horror as I realize what's happened. His hand…it's…it's not better.

"I'll meet you in post-op," Derek says before walking out of the O.R. My heart sinks as I look back down at the surgical field in front of me. Get it together, Torres, I think to myself as I continue on with the surgery…alone.

I scrub out of surgery and immediately head for Mark's room. The respirator continues to regularly hiss as I sit down beside his bed. "Mark, Derek's hand went numb in there," I say frantically, tears pricking my eyes. "The surgery that pulled me away from Arizona and you failed. The whole reason I wasn't at your bedside or Arizona's bedside was because I was fixing Derek's hand and it's not working! Mark, you have to wake up! You have to! I need something to survive this crash because I don't know how much more loss I can take!"

"Torres," I hear Richard's voice behind me. I glance up at the clock and my heart skips a beat. It's five o'clock. I close my eyes for several moments, gathering the courage to face the former chief. "It's time," he finally says. I nod as I stand and walk over beside Derek to give Richard room. He walks us through the procedure, "not because you need to know the procedure, but because your brain can't fully comprehend what's about to happen." He's right, I think to myself. I can't comprehend what's about to happen.

I start to sob as they extubate him. I feel a hand on my back as Derek rubs it. I wipe my tears away as Richard walks out of the room. I can hear Mark's gasping breaths. I know it's only a waiting game now. I sit down in a chair beside his bed and grab his hand, hoping and praying for a miracle I know won't come. Derek and I watch Mark's monitors as his heart rate slowly but surely gets lower and lower. Finally, the constant drone of the monitor sounds echoes through the room as his heart comes to a stop. I cover my face as I bow my head and sob, still gripping his hand. The grief is so intense it's almost unbearable and I squeeze his hand harder, knowing it will never squeeze back or pat my shoulder again.

Thirty days ago, I lost my wife. Today, I lost my best friend. How does one move past that?