Title: Out Of The Mouths Of Babes (1/?)
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairing: Mark/Callie and other canon pairings
Summary: After Callie miscarries, she finds love in an unexpected place with someone who can't really tie his shoes yet.
A/N: This is the epic Mallie fic y'all have been begging for. I don't do kid fics so I probably suck. LOL



~*~*~*~*~

You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back. ~William D. Tammeus

*~*~*~*~*~

Two weeks after Callie had a miscarriage she filed for divorce. George was openly dating Izzie and had not bothered to come and tell his child goodbye. She held the tiny fetus in her hands, hysterically sobbing, and Mark Sloan of all people had comforted her. Callie had handed over the bloody mass with shaking hands and Mark had crawled into the bed beside her, pulling her head onto his shoulder. He had been the one to find her bleeding out in the stairwell and it was her blood that stained his scrubs.

One month after the miscarriage, a four year old boy was brought into the Emergency Room via ambulance. He was defiant and refused to cry, even when Callie set his broken arm and put it in a cast. After it was over, she sat on the edge of his bed and ruffled his shaggy black hair. He pushed her hand away and said that he didn't like her and told her she looked like the Wicked Witch of the West, only less green. She gave him a sucker and waited for his parents to arrive.

They never did.

Social services collected the child and took him back to the group home where he lived. Three months later, he was back. This time with a broken finger. Callie put it in a splint and impulsively kissed it. The little boy sucked in his breath and gazed up at her. "My name is Jack. What's yours?"

"Callie, but a lot of people call me Dr. T."

"I want to call you Callie."

"Okay."

Nine days later, Callie was working on a chart when someone tugged on her lab coat. Jack was there yet again and he held up his thumb, which had been dislocated. She picked him up, carried him to an empty trauma room and said, "Okay, what's going on, kid? Is someone hurting you?"

"No."

"Then what happened?"

"Nobody picked me." Jack looked down at his thumb. "Nobody ever picks me."

"What do you mean?"

"People come to look at the kids and they always pick the babies. They look at me a lot and I smile and make sure my hands are clean, but they never pick me."

"I know the feeling," Callie told him, then pulled his thumb back into place before he knew it was happening. He didn't cry this time either. "So, when they don't pick you ... you hurt yourself?"

"I jump off the roof sometimes. That's how I broke my arm. Sometimes I just slam the door on my hand, though."

"Why?"

"Because." Jack shrugged. "Do you got kids?"

"No."

"Want one?"

Callie sat beside him on the stretcher. "I don't think I'm supposed to have kids. I don't have a husband."

"So? Nurse Beckett at the home has four kids and she don't got no husband." Jack put his hand on hers. "If you do want a kid you can pick me."

She put her arm around him. "I'll keep that in mind."

Two weeks later, Jack was admitted with internal injuries. Callie moved into his room. When she wasn't on duty, she was with Jack. He didn't wake up for five days and when he finally did, she was there. He held up his skinny, bruised arms and she hugged him. He didn't let go. He crawled into her lap and fell asleep with his hand on hers.

Everyone had an opinion. Chief Webber tried to bar her from spending so much time with him. Bailey warned her not to get involved ... as a last resort she invoked Izzie Steven's name and reminded Callie of Denny Duquette. Everyone thought she was depressed, that she was missing George, missing her own baby, but Callie knew better.

Mark Sloan seemed to know better, too, because he encouraged her every step of the way. He introduced her to a leggy female lawyer who was able to expedite the process and when Jack was released from the hospital several weeks later ... he didn’t go back to the group home. He went to the house that Callie had paid cash for ... a house with a pool, a big yard, a swingset, and a playroom in the basement that made him squeal with delight.

He had officially and legally become Jack Torres.

Callie embraced being a single parent with both arms.

Jack was all she had in the world.

*~*~*~*~*~

(1)

Mark looked up from his newspaper and watched Callie tape a piece of construction paper to the inside of her locker door. It was something he did every morning. He waited for her to come in and he covertly enjoyed the view. Ever since he had held her during her miscarriage they had been friendly with one another and he looked for new and inventive ways to make her laugh. Lately, she didn't need much prompting; she smiled all day long. It was nice to see considering the hell she had been through.

When she sat down to slip off her shoes, he smiled. She had silly string in her hair. He set the paper aside and got to his feet, tapping her on the shoulder. "Did you have a celebration before work?"

"What?" Callie asked, looking up at him. She wrinkled her nose when she saw that he was gazing at her hair. "Oh my god, I didn't get it all."

"You didn't get it all," he agreed. "Want some help?"

"Sure." She sat still, letting him pull the string from her hair. When he dangled it in front of her face a moment later, she laughed and closed her hand around it. "Thanks. I - Jack is hard to wake up for school so the silly string gets him laughing and it's just easier to have it all over the place than deal with tardies. His school is strict."

"How is the kid?"

"He’s adjusting. The night terrors stopped last week, knock on wood, and he’s being so good that it’s scary. He literally has a halo around his head. I don’t have to ask him to do anything twice."

"Does he like that stuffy pre school you’re sending him to?"

"He despises the tie and everyone there, but he needs the structure and he can’t get that anywhere else. Plus it’s right across the street so if anything happens ... I can be there in three minutes."

"I saw him a few days ago with his nanny," Mark said, sitting down on the bench beside her. He stretched his long legs out and crossed his ankles. "He ran into me in the hallway and told me to move the hell out of his way."

"I'm sorry!" Callie gasped, looking mortified. "We're working on manners. It's slow going."

"When do I get to meet him?"

"You want to meet him?"

"Well, I did help you get him. And like you said ... he’s adjusting. Introduce me."

Callie looked away. She wasn’t going to be the kind of woman who paraded men in front of her kids. Her grandmother had done that to her father and he had spoken with her at length about it when she took Jack home to meet her family. He had made it very clear that it damaged a child to watch a revolving door of men and she couldn’t go there. Not considering how many revolving doors Jack had already seen in his short life. Changing the subject, she pointed at her locker. "Before school yesterday he accidentally broke a plate and told his teacher he needed to apologize to me in a card."

Mark leaned a little closer to her so that he could see the artwork. She smelled good, like clean cotton and ... vanilla. He forced himself to gaze at the card instead of her cleavage. The little boy had traced his hand in the center of the paper. Scrawled in crayon, he had written 'Im Sori' and at the bottom it read 'I wil b gud I luv u'. "Damn. He’s text messaging you on paper."

She grinned. "He has definitely learned in just a few short weeks how to make me roll over. When we went shopping for his bedroom, I was going for functional and now he has a bed shaped like a car and a climbing wall."

Mark laughed. "And you don't mind at all."

"I really don't." She glanced over at him, then bit her bottom lip. "Oh my god, you so don't want to hear about the joys of single parenting."

"I'm still listening." Mark pointed at the photo of Callie and Jack that was in the top corner of her locker door. It gave him a reason to sit so close to her. "It's amazing that he actually looks like you. You do know that, right? Black hair, brown eyes, and you'd probably tell me to move the hell out of your way, too."

She gave him a knowing look. "I think I did during the one, two, yep, three dirty times that you had your way with me."

Mark had to fight hard to contain his shock at her words. He cleared his throat and said, "I still maintain that it was cheerful."

"Cheerful has never bruised me before," she told him, her eyes twinkling. She was enjoying his discomfort far too much and she was enjoying being flirtatious even more. She was a single mother ... she wasn't dead. Before she could continue, her pager went off and she made a face, lifting it from her purse. "It's going to be one hell of a day."

Mark watched her wordlessly.

He would embarrass himself if he stood up at the moment.

When she finally disappeared behind one of the many changing curtains, he got to his feet and buttoned his jacket to hide the fact that talking about the joys of single parenting had an unexpected effect on him that he never saw coming.

*~*~*~*~*~

In the lunchroom at noon, Mark paid for his food and picked up his tray. A table full of nurses sat to his left and Callie sat alone to his right. Several of the nurses waved at him, smiling invitingly, and he nodded at them, then glanced back at Callie. She had been on his mind the entire morning and their one, two, yep, three admittedly dirty sexcapades they had shared had caused him to need a chart in front of his crotch every time he walked down the hallway and she was near. He felt like there was a magnetic field around her and the butterflies that had suddenly appeared in his stomach were all made of steel. He was drawn to her and his body wouldn't let him shake it. He walked across the cafeteria and stopped beside her. "Is this seat taken?"

She looked at him then at the many empty seats around them. Her gaze landed on the nurses who were glaring at her with the heat of a thousand lightning bolts. He either wanted to make someone at the table jealous ... or her flirty banter that morning made him think she would drop her panties for him again. The latter wasn't actually such a bad idea. Maybe she could lure him into an on call room for a little afternoon delight. It's not like she could date and she was definitely tired of self pleasure. "What's so special about this spot, Sloan?"

"It's next to you ... and God, I really just said that." He cringed at the look she shot him. "Can I sit down or what? My tray is loaded."

"Knock yourself out." She grinned, thinking of what else appeared to be loaded beneath the tray.

Mark tugged the chair beside her with his foot and flopped into it. "What are you reading? Parenthood?"

She closed the magazine and grinned at him. "Try again."

His eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw the cover of Playgirl and the hot young guy who was wearing a stethoscope and not much more. He took it from her and flipped through it, shaking his head. "I can't even pretend to be shocked."

Callie stole a fry from his plate. "You really want people to see you looking at man boobs and artfully displayed penises?"

He closed the magazine so fast that he earned a papercut for his efforts. He put it under his tray and bit into his corndog. "You’re a pervert."

"You’re the one looking at naked guys and biting into phallic shaped food."

Mark choked and glared at her. "You’re are gonna pay for that."

"Promises, promises." She snuck another fry and dipped it into his ketchup. "So, what’s up? Which nurse are you avoiding?"

"All of them." He shrugged, watching as she chewed the potato. Who knew that it could be so erotic. "Would you ... have dinner with me?"

"Er ... huh?"

"Dinner. You know, sorta like what we're doing now only at night and -"

"Hey, Mister! Who the heck are you?"

Mark turned at the sound of the voice and smiled down at Callie's son. The little boy stood just behind his mother with his hands on his hips. His tie was covered in mud and his navy blue blazer looked like it had been run over by a bus. He was tapping his foot and his nostrils were flaring as he waited for Mark to answer. "Hey, Jack." Mark held out his hand. "I’m Mark Sloan."

"You're in my seat." Jack glanced at Mark's hand, then crossed his arms over his chest. "Mom, why is he here?"

"Why are *you* here, kiddo?" Callie asked, pushing her chair back and opening her arms. Jack hopped up into her lap and laid his head on her shoulder. She felt his forehead, which was cool to the touch. "Where is Gertie?"

"That old nag? She's probably at home watchin' her television and fartin'." Jack looked up at Callie, trying to appear apologetic. "She dropped me off at school and the teachers kept being stupid so I left at recess."

Callie's mouth dropped open. "Did you walk here!?"

"No, I flew like Superman. All the way across the street." Jack sat up in Callie's lap, his attention on Mark again. "You're still here? How come?"

"You be nice and shake his hand, Jack! You're in enough trouble already." Callie nudged him in the back. "Go on."

Jack held out his hand and let it lie limply in Mark's large one. "Mark Sloan, can you tell my mom that it's okay to miss school when it's the last freakin' day?"

"How old are you?" Mark asked the little boy, trying hard not to laugh.

"Nearly five." Jack leaned back against Callie's chest again. "Preschool is for babies anyway. If you finger paint once then why should you have to do it again? It's damn stupid."

Callie prayed for patience. "You know, Jack, I pay a lot of money for you to go to private school and -"

"Apparently they let kids vanish during recess," Mark told her. "You need to roll a few heads for that, Callie. And save your money by getting his tuition for free next year."

Jack smiled up at her. "Yeah, save your money. You can buy me an air rifle so I can join the Army instead."

Mark laughed outright now. He couldn't hold it in another second. It forced Jack's attention back on him and Mark was struck again by how similar mother and child were. The little boy arched his eyebrow the same way Callie did and when he cocked his head to study Mark, Callie was doing the same thing.

"Don't encourage him," Callie told Mark. "He's cutting class before he's even in a *grade*."

Jack watched his mother pull her phone from her bag and snatched it from her hand, stuffing it under his shirt. "Don't call Gertie! She smells like feet and she'll make me sit right beside her while she watches those people kiss on the t.v. and I'll fall over dead from it. I really will."

To prove his sincerity, Jack slumped forward in a very fake faint. Callie was forced to shift in her seat to hang onto him. She looked at Mark and rolled her eyes. "We've got a temporary nanny until the agency can find someone suitable and he doesn't like her."

"She's horrible," Jack chimed in, still dangling weightless in Callie's arms. "Her arms are hairier than my head."

Mark reached down and put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "I think I may have a solution, little guy."

Jack looked up hopefully. "What?"

Mark met Callie's eyes. "Dr. Bailey needs one more signature on the petition for the hospital nursery and after school program. Do you want to sign it or should I?"

"What's that?" Jack asked, riveted by possibilities he didn't fully understand.

Mark explained the concept and when the little boy realized that he would be able to stay at the hospital and see Callie as much as her schedule would let him, he leaned forward and took the pen from Mark's front pocket. "I'll sign it too. I can do my name, just not in joined up letters yet."

"Show me." Mark pulled a napkin from the holder and held it firm on the table while Jack wrote on it. The child's tongue stuck out between his lips and his brow was furrowed from the concentration. He was literally straining to make it perfect and when he finished, he looked at Mark expectantly. Mark picked up the napkin, turning it different ways to examine it from all angles. "It's a little messy," he finally pronounced.

"Nuh uh!" Jack shook his head. "I was 'specially careful!"

Mark took the pen and wrote Jack's name in cursive below the boy's attempt. Jack took it and rubbed his fingers over it. Mark put the pen back in his pocket and said, "You know where I learned to do that?"

Jack was still looking at the complicated signature with awe. "No. Where?"

"At school." Mark grinned at him. "Where you should go even if it is the last day."

"Oh, maaaaan." Jack folded the napkin and carefully put it into his pocket. "I can't fly any more today. I'm Superman and there's kryptonite on your plate. It made me too sick to go back."

"Kryptonite?" Mark looked down at his food and picked up a brussel sprout. "You mean this?"

Jack clutched his throat and pretended to die, flopping like a fish for several seconds.

"Okay, Superman, we’re walking back to your school. Where I will roll some heads." Callie set him on his feet and gathered her purse before she stood. Watching Mark interact with her son had done strange things to her insides and she needed to get out of his vicinity for a while.

"It was nice to officially meet you, Jack." Mark popped a sprout in his mouth and watched the kid dry heave into a pretend bucket.

"I'll see you later," Callie said, not looking at Mark.

"Wait!" Jack put his hand behind his back when Callie reached to take it. He gazed at Mark with big, bright eyes. "Sorry I was rude before, Mark Sloan."

Mark smiled. The little boy said his first and last name the way most people said Billy Bob or Mary Sue. "You can call me Mark."

"And you can come to dinner at our house," Jack replied. "That's what you were saying before ... it's Thursday. That’s 'sgetti night and my mom makes real good 'sgetti."

Mark had to smile when Callie quietly covered her face to hide the blush that was spreading through her cheeks. He should have okayed it with her first, but the invitation was too promising to pass up. "I'd love to come. Can I bring anything?"

"Cookies!" Jack declared. "She *can't* cook that."

"Cookies it is."

Jack walked forward and held his arms open. "Hug me bye."

Mark leaned down and gave the little fellow a one armed hug. Both of Jack's arms went around his neck and then he planted a sloppy, wet kiss on Mark's cheek.

Mark's hand was still on the spot when Callie disappeared around the corner with Jack.

*~*~

He arrived at six thirty, balancing a bakery box full of three dozen cookies and a bottle of champagne. Callie’s house was impressive. He had heard rumors that she was insanely rich, but he hadn’t paid it any mind. Faced with the fact that she was wealthy didn’t affect him in the least. Instead, it made him feel better about her tackling motherhood on her own. Not worrying about money was probably a relief for her.

Jack opened the door and hugged Mark’s leg the second he saw the pink box. "My bedroom is the first door upstairs. Hide ‘em under my bed, ‘kay?"

"No way." Mark eased past him and shut the door. Jack stayed attached to his leg as he looked around the living room. The floors were hardwood, light colored, and the walls were taupe. Everywhere he looked there were large paintings and his eyes widened. He never would have pegged Callie Torres for an art kind of girl.

"My mother decorated it," Callie told him, coming out of the kitchen. "She decided that Megadeth posters, incense, and my college banners would not make the best decor for impressing the social workers."

"It is impressive," he replied, but he was certainly not referencing the house. She was barefoot and had on a pair of jeans that looked painted on. The black tank top she wore was snug in all the right ways and his mouth watered a little when she reached forward and took the cookie box, thanking him.

Callie gasped when she felt how heavy it was. "Holy sh ... crap, Sloan. How many cookies did you bring?"

"A lot." He shrugged apologetically. "I didn’t know what kind he liked."

"If it rots his teeth, he’ll eat it without complaining." Callie looked down at Jack, who still had one arm around Mark’s leg and was pushing buttons on his phone with his free hand. "Did you wash your hands yet?"

"No."

"Can you go do it? Now?"

Jack nodded. "Hey, Mark, wanna see my room?"

Mark waited for Callie to nod before he followed his pint sized host up the stairs. The hallway was covered in photos of people who had to be Callie’s relatives. He lingered for a while, gazing at a family photo that showed her at probably sixteen. Her hair was chestnut brown instead of jet black and she was so scrawny that she looked sickly.

"Come on!" Jack cried, impatiently bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Okay, okay," Mark told him, following him through a door that had yellow caution tape across it. The sheer size of the bedroom was amazing. It was larger than two of the rooms at the Archfield and each wall was painted a different primary color.

Callie had not been kidding about the bed. It was shaped like a race car and held a twin sized mattress that Jack jumped on and bounced up and down, ripping the cover off as he leaped. Mark simply shook his head and turned his attention to the rock climbing wall, which took up one entire side of the room. There were rope swings attached with large metal rings and he grabbed one, checking how sturdy it was.

"You can swing if you wanna," Jack told him. "I don’t mind sharing."

"Maybe some other time." Mark pointed at the corner of the room where a sheet had been tacked to the wall and the floor, making a one sided tent. "What’s that?"

"That’s where my special things go." Jack moved between Mark and the sheet when he stepped toward it. "You have to say the magic word to go in there."

"Oh? What’s the magic word?"

"Fun."

"Okay. Fun." Mark got onto his knees and crawled under the canopy, stretching out on his stomach in front of a small camouflage box. "Is that your special stuff?"

"Yep." Jack sat Indian style, opening the lid. "My grandpa gave me the box. He said boys have to have secrets."

Mark accepted the four leaf clover that was sealed in a zip lock bag. Jack tapped it and said, "We found that in Papi’s yard when Mom took me on the big plane. And this is the plane she bought me in Malami."

Not having the heart to tell him it was *Miami*, Mark simply nodded. "Did you like Florida?"

"It was too hot." Jack reached into the box again. For five minutes he showed Mark everything from a broken jump rope to an empty bottle of shampoo (Callie’s). He finally pulled out another zip lock bag. "And this is your napkin that you wrote my name on. I’ve been practicing a lot."

Mark didn’t know why seeing the neatly folded napkin made his heart swell so much, but it did. Jack was just like Callie in a lot of ways.

He had gotten under Mark’s skin without even trying.

After dinner, Callie parked Jack in front of the television with a learning game and headed back into the kitchen to clean up. Mark was standing at the sink, scraping out their leftovers. "I’ve got this," she told him, finishing off her one and only glass of wine.

"I don’t mind." Mark smiled at her. "It’s been so long since I had home cooking or a kitchen to clean that I’m enjoying the hell out of it."

"Are you ever going to move out of the Archfield?" she queried, lifting a cookie from the box.

"Why bother?" he asked, rinsing out the sauce pan before he put it in the dishwasher. "Thanks for having me tonight, by the way."

Callie hopped up on the counter. "Adult conversation. I had forgotten what it felt like."

He chuckled and reached past her to grab the baking sheet. Her scent, that same cottony clean smell from the locker room, invaded his senses and he met her eyes, still leaning over her lap. "Your skin. I have *not* forgotten what it felt like." He reached up, brushing a cookie crumb from her mouth. "Or what it tasted like."

Callie licked her lips. Jack would be in bed soon and ... no ... no, she couldn’t let that happen. Her father’s warning flashed through her head. She closed her eyes and exhaled. "I can’t."

He didn’t back away. "Why not?"

"Mom!" Jack cried suddenly. "The damn television won’t work!"

"That’s why."

"So, you’re going to be celibate until he’s eighteen?" Mark watched as she slipped from the counter and walked from the kitchen. He finished up and joined them in time to fix the television, which Jack had somehow autoprogrammed with the remote control so that most of the channels had been deleted.

Callie didn’t look at him or talk to him very much after that. He showed Jack how to make it to the next level of Mario Brothers and then said that he should go. Jack held his arms up and Mark leaned down to receive another wet kiss. "Seeya, Jacko."

"Are you coming to our next ‘sgetti night? It’s Thursday. It’s always Thursday." Jack looked at him, then at his mom. "He can, right? You said I can have friends over this summer and he’s more fun than Tuck."

"I - I don’t -"

"I’d love to." Mark shot her a playful look and when Jack started to cheer ... he knew that he had at least *one* person on his side.
~*~*~*~*~
Four weeks and four Thursday night Spaghetti dinners later, Callie and Mark stood side by side at the glass window of the Seattle Grace nursery watching Jack play with Tuck. He was gentle with the smaller boy and obviously protective because when a rowdy little girl knocked Bailey's son off his feet, Jack told her off with much animation and finger pointing. Mark grinned, nudging Callie on the side. "Now I *know* that he's your son through and through. You did that to me the other night when I gave him a video game."

"You gave him a video that's rated 'T', Mark!" she replied. "But I've been enjoying the hell out of it so thanks."

"You are horrible." Mark studied her profile, fighting the urge to reach up and brush a strand of hair off her cheek. She had certainly been nice to him during their dinners, but she made no further mention of their past indiscretions. As a matter of fact, she had not flirted with him at all. He didn't get it. She treated him like a co-worker whether they were at work or not and that bothered him more than he liked.

Callie's peripheral vision was in working order. She knew that Mark was watching her again. He had been doing it a lot the past few weeks. Every Thursday he showed up with a carb filled treat of some kind and a movie (all G rated which was destroying her brain cells)and ate pasta. He sat as far away from her as possible and talked more to Jack than her and usually left the minute the credits rolled on the DVD. He never made any excuses ... he simply said good night. She had stopped trying to make sense of it. "Jack's birthday is coming up," she said.

"I know. Am I getting an invitation after the whole video game thing?"

She smiled, meeting his eyes. "Absolutely. He would kill me if you weren't there."

Jack ran up to the window, smiling at the two of them. He put his palms against it and Callie covered one of them with her own. Jack looked at Mark, wiggling the fingers of his other hand. Mark laid his against the glass and chuckled. Jack moved his hands a little higher and Callie and Mark followed with their own. It was a game for about ten seconds and then Jack moved his hands together and Mark’s and Callie's collided. They both pulled away as if they had been burned.

Mark crossed his arms. "Uh, so I'll be there at six thirty tonight. I'll bring cookies again even though -"

"You shouldn't come." Callie's heart hit the bottom of her stomach as she said it. Jack was watching Sloan with a look of complete adoration and she knew that heartbreak was in her son’s future. She needed to stop it now, before he got too attached to Mark.

"Wait, it is Thursday, right?" He pulled out his BlackBerry and nodded. "How about donuts for desert?"

"Mark, no." She shook her head. "When the novelty of this wears off for you ... you're going to find a better way to spend your Thursdays. A way that doesn't involve spaghetti sauce on your shirt or getting drenched after a kid ropes you into giving him a bath. You're going to get tired of -"

"Well shit, Callie. I'm really glad that you've become an all seeing Oracle. Maybe you should take the crystal ball out of your ass before you try to read it because you don't know what you're talking about."

Red, hot fury rose inside her. "I have a child! An actual living, breathing, human being who depends on me. He already has attachment issues and it will devastate him when you get tired of playing house *one* night a week."

"You having a kid is obviously a bigger stumbling block for you than it is me! You’re the one who is living like a god damn nun and -"

Callie turned on her heel and stalked off. Mark watched her go, swallowing back the apology that almost ripped from his throat against his will. When he looked back into the nursery, Jack was peering up at him and there were tears on his cheek. Mark swore under his breath and pointed at the door, which required a code. Mark put it in and smiled at one of the instructors as he kneeled down to talk to Jack. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"Why are you fighting?" Jack rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes.

"We’re not." Mark gave him a hug and smiled at him. "It just looked like it. We were talking, that's all."

"Is she gonna cry before we eat now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think 'sgetti makes her tummy ache 'cause I can hear her crying after I'm in bed."

Mark felt a fluttering in his chest. "She only does that after spaghetti?"

"Uh huh." Jack sniffled. "Every damn time she eats it."

"We really need to work on your vocabulary, Slick."

"Sorry. Every freakin' time she eats it," Jack amended.

"Still bad."

"Shit."

Mark goosed the little boy in the ribs, causing him to giggle. "Behave yourself. You don't want your mom to get angry notes about you using bad words in front of the other kids."

"Little pitchers have big ears." Jack looked conspiratorial. "That's what Mom told the furniture guy when he said she was pretty and asked her to the movies."

The smile on Mark's face was gone in an instant. "What did she say?"

"She said little pitchers have big ears and pointed at me."

"Is she going?"

"Where?"

"To the movies."

"Oh." Jack shrugged his shoulders. "She told me that guys are ‘sposed to bring flowers before they call someone pretty. He didn't have no flowers." Jack put his hands on Mark's shoulders. "I think she was pissed off. She threw things when he left."

"Pissed is also something you need to stop saying."

"If I stop saying everything that's bad then what's left?"

"I think your mother should have your I.Q. tested. You’re too smart for your own good."

"What's that?"

"Nevermind." Mark hugged him again. It was a daily thing for him to stop by and bring animal crackers just to get a hug. Especially when the day was going to hell in a hand basket. "You go play with Tuck, okay?"

"'Kay."

*~*~*~*~*~

"But where is he?" Jack had pulled his chair against the window and was peering outside, his knees in the seat. "It's almost time."

"I told you, kiddo, Mark's busy."

"Can I call him?"

"No." Callie shut the blinds and picked him up, kissing his neck as she set him on his feet. "Please go wash your hands."

"You made him mad!" Jack accused, stomping his foot. "I know you did!"

"Grown ups sometimes make each other mad."

"When I make you mad you make me say sorry!" Jack darted out of the way when she tried to pick him up. "I'm not eating your stupid shit dinner!"

"Hey!" Callie caught his arm. "What did I tell you about that word?"

"Shit shit shit!" Jack chanted, yanking his arm lose. He ran across the kitchen and picked up the box of garlic bread, throwing it at her. "Shit shit shit shit!"

Callie was stunned. In the months that she'd had Jack, he had never come close to a full blown tantrum, unless you counted his refusal to warm up to Gertie and the dead spiders he had left in her denture bowl ... which prompted her to quit. She gasped when he opened the door under the sink and intentionally slammed it on his hand. "JACK!"

"Shit." He sat down in the floor and cradled his hand. "That hurt."

Bending down, she picked him up and sat him on the counter top. He burst into tears and she was torn by whether to comfort him or examine him. His wails were earsplitting and it scared her half to death. Most people who cried that way had open fractures. There was no blood, however, and she gently cradled his arm, pressing against several bones in his hand. It was red, already swelling, and he jerked away when she pressed the worst of it. "Let me see it, baby," she pleaded.

"I'M NOT A BABY!" he squealed. "LEMME ALONE!"

"Jack-"

"I hate you!" He jumped off the counter and raced past her.

A second later Callie heard his bedroom door slam.

It would have hurt less if he had slapped her in the face, she decided as she retrieved the garlic bread that he had thrown across the room. She opened the box and put the slices on a pan and by the time she finished, she was crying almost as hard as he had been. The doorbell rang as she slid it into the oven and set the timer. Grabbing a paper towel, she wet it and wiped her face before she headed through the living room.

"I know you said for me not to-" Mark began as soon as she opened the door, but he trailed off when he saw how upset she was. Wordlessly, he stepped past her and took her hand, still hiding the bouquet of flowers behind his back. "What happened?"

"Can you watch dinner?"

"Yeah, sure."

"The bread's in the oven and the pasta is probably very over cooked and ... I don't care."

"Callie, what -"

She held up her hand and vanished up the stairs. He went into the kitchen and put the flowers on the table. He drained the noodles, leaving them in the colander in the sink. The bread still had several minutes to go so he headed toward the stairs himself. Jack was sitting on the top of the landing, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "What happened?" Mark questioned, noticing how puffy the little boy's eyes were.

"She's giving me back." Jack puckered up and started to cry.

"What are you talking about?" Mark sat down two steps below him so that they were eye level.

"She's gonna make me go back to that place because I can't stop saying bad words," he cried. In a much lower voice, he added. "And I told her that I hate her, but it was a lie so I lied on top of saying bad words. Plus I hurted myself."

"What? Where?"

Jack held his hand out. Mark took it in his own and felt it until he was convinced that nothing was broken. Callie had told him about Jack’s penchant for self injury and he had hoped that it was behind him, but it apparently wasn’t. "Let’s go get you an ice pack."

Mark glanced behind Jack at Callie’s closed bedroom door as he lifted the little boy in his arms. "She would never give you back, buddy. She’s your mom and mom’s don’t do that."

"Yes, they do. I’ve had a bunch of moms."

"Oh yeah?"

Jack nodded as Mark sat him on the island in the middle of the floor. "They call them frosted homes."

"You mean foster homes," Mark corrected. "And I lived in foster homes too when I was your age."

Jack stared at Mark as if he had just told him that Santa Claus was in the front yard. "You did?" he whispered.

"I did. I finally got adopted, but my mom isn’t as good as yours. She ... she wasn’t much fun. She never woke me up with silly string or let me have a car bed. She didn’t get a rock climbing wall or make me spaghetti and it didn’t matter to her that I didn’t like my nanny." As Mark spoke, he filled a zip lock bag with ice and wrapped a dish towel around it. "I brought you that dinosaur movie to watch. Why don’t I start it for you? I need to go talk to Callie for a minute."

"Don’t let her give me back."

"Don’t even think like that. It’s not happening."

He took the bread out of the oven and wrung his hands as he headed up the stairs.

*~

Mark knocked on her bedroom door and waited a few seconds. He knocked a little louder when she didn’t answer and then he pushed the door open, uninvited. She was sitting on the bed, her back to the door. "Callie?"

"I’ll be down in a minute."

"You know he didn’t mean it."

"I know."

"He’s terrified that you’re going to give him back. Come downstairs and -"

"I suck at this."

Mark walked around the bed and sat beside her. "You do *not* suck."

"Did you check his hand?"


"It’s fine. He’s got an ice pack and he’s watching a movie." Mark did something he had been tempted to do all day. He reached out and pushed her hair back, letting his fingers slide almost to the end of her raven locks. It was soft and silky and he swallowed hard. Never one to pay attention to hair color when it came to the opposite sex, he made the decision in that moment that black hair was the sexiest color a woman could have ... no, he amended, just one woman. "You know I was adopted, right?"

She turned her head, her eyes wide. "No!"

"When I was seven. This wealthy family decided they needed the midlife crisis baby and then realized that a baby would be a pain in the ass. So, they got me instead." He had mussed her hair so he smoothed it back down. As an afterthought, he tilted her chin so that she couldn’t look away. "Coming here and spending time with him is not a novelty for me. This is the highlight of my week and I can understand why you’re leery and why you’d want me to stay away, but -"

"You don’t have to stay away. He’s crazy about you and so am -" Callie trailed off, pulling away from him. What she had almost said hung thick in the air around them and she started to stand. When he caught her hand, she sighed. "Mark-"

"So am I," he replied softly. "And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait."

She didn’t know why she felt like an awkward teenager all over again. She was tempted to run, to hug him, to kiss him, to hit him. "Why?" she finally breathed. "Why me?"

"How can it not be you?"

She had to laugh as she ran her free hand over her face. "You know, there’s something behind that whole MILF thing because when you guys see that I have a kid ... you try to -"

"That’s not a novelty for me either."

"Mom?"

Callie turned and saw Jack behind them carrying a bouquet of flowers. He laid them on the bed as he pulled himself up on it and then he picked them up again as she crawled toward her on his knees. "I won’t say shit no more," he told her in a barely audible voice as he stopped right behind her. He held up the flowers and smiled tentatively. "I’m sorry. And - and you’re pretty. And I love you."

As Mark watched her pull Jack into her arms ... he wondered if she understood that her son had just taken the words right of his mouth.

And his flowers, too.

~*~*~*~
CH 2
Mark was sitting in his usual spot when Callie came into the locker room the following morning. Lost in thought, he didn’t notice her at first and then he caught her familiar scent and sat up a little straighter. Instead of going to her locker, Callie sat down beside him and crossed her arms over her chest. He grinned and turned a little in his seat so he could look at her before he spoke. "How did it go with the kid after I left? He didn’t eat much, but then neither did you. I confess, my pasta needs work."

"What did you mean?" she asked softly.

"What did I mean?"

"Waiting."

"Hmm?" His brow furrowed. "Care to be more specific?"

Callie’s nostrils flared. "You already forgot that you said it!? You - ass!"

"OH!" Mark grabbed her arm as she shot to her feet. He pulled her back down beside him and held onto her. "Waiting! I said I’ll wait! Right! And I meant it!"

She looked like he had just told her that the world was flat and the sky was pink. "Overnight. It completely slipped your mind *overnight*."

"No, baby! It did not sl-"

"I am not your baby!" Callie shoved his arm off and grabbed her bag. "I’m going to change with the interns. I don’t know how I’ll keep up since I’m not a toddler yet like they are!"

"That was an endearment, Torres!"

"Not coming from you! Ass!"

Mark had been yelled at for many things in his life.

But never for something as stupid as that.

*~

Forty minutes later, a very angry Callie was summoned to the OR to begin her part of a complex surgery on a trauma patient. Mark was standing at the sink scrubbing in and he glanced at her, but didn’t speak. She moved beside him and said, "Why are you here?"

"Because I’m needed."

"Great!" She soaped her hands, scrubbing hard enough to remove all three layers of skin. "Don’t talk to me."

"You’re talking to me!" He turned the water off and backed through the door. "And I don’t want you to!"

"Good. Because I’m done."

"Good. Me too."

"Stop talking!"

"I am."

"Shut up, Mark."

"Okay. *Baby*. Get the last word ... such as it is."

Callie snarled behind her mask and followed behind him. Chief Webber had already opened the patient and Callie moved across from Mark to begin working on the broken leg that required pins. The Chief greeted her warmly and inquired about Jack. Callie’s response was clipped and her boss raised his brows. "Everything okay, Dr. Torres?"

"You should have stricter rules about who you hire, Chief."

Webber glanced up at the assembled staff in the gallery before he spoke. "If you have a complaint then we should talk about it privately."

"No," Mark snapped. He was working on the patient’s face and even though she was at the other end of the table, his anger was surging through him as if they were toe to toe. "That would require maturity on her part and she’s like a scared *baby* who runs from something that could be really, really great."

"Have scalpel. Will kill." Callie held it up to prove her point.

"Have bigger scalpel." He held up his own. "New York City Dart Champion three years running."

"You must be so proud," Callie mocked. "You should be even prouder of the fact that you have a lifelong star in the Male Asshole Hall of Fame!"

"It’s only slightly shinier than yours over at the Chicken Shit Hall of Fame!"

"That’s enough! I’m officially calling this a no speak zone!" Webber looked back and forth between them. "Zip it! Get your jobs done!"

They worked in silence for ten minutes. Several of the interns who had lined up against the back wall to observe were whispering, no doubt spinning the exchange in much juicier ways. When Mark rolled his neck to break some of the tension, he spotted George O’Malley in the gallery. He met the other man’s eyes and the bastard actually *smirked* at him. Actually *smirked*. Mark was tempted to use him as a pin cushion for anything sharp in the vicinity.

"That’s it!" he yelled.

Webber jumped and almost punctured the liver he was working on. "Sloan!"

Mark slammed his scalpel down on the tray, causing one of the nurses (who he had slept with once upon a time) to jump out of the way. He glared at her, then at the nurses who had assembled in the gallery. "You’re all pissed at me, ladies, because I don’t come around you any more. You’re all mad that I don’t return your calls and I don’t sit with you at lunch and I clearly don’t give a shit. What I give a shit about is that the person I do want to call and I do want to sit with ... doesn’t want me to. She’s making me pay for another man’s mistakes and I alternate between wanting to strangle her and kiss her until she can’t breathe. So, either way I win!"

"Mark-" Webber began, glaring at him over his mask.

Mark carried on, undaunted. "I’ve been done in by a woman who has everything I never knew I wanted and she’s DRIVING ME INSANE! She’s KILLING ME! And she -"

"Sloan, get the hell out of my OR! NOW!" Webber shouted. "Right now! Olivia, page Dr. Keegan to take over for him."

Mark walked to the end of the bed and stopped in front of Callie. "I once told you to talk to someone instead of ruining your career. I guess now I see that when the heart is involved ... a person can’t think at all. And my heart’s involved, *baby*. So keep that in mind."

*~

After she finished the surgery, Callie went in search of Mark. People were talking about her. She knew that because every room she stuck her head in fell silent the second she appeared. How she managed to not have a stroke was beyond her. She had actually taken her own blood pressure just to make sure her heart was beating at all. She should have been mortified. She should have been pissed and terrified and *angry*.

But she wanted to hug him.

Mark was in the on call room, lying on his back, glaring at the bottom of the bunk over his head. She checked to make sure that bunk was empty before she sat down beside him, her back to him. "I’m sorry," she said. "I’m really sorry."

"For which part? You have so many things to pick from."

"I want to be ready. I need to be ready, but - but I’m not yet. I’m just - not. Jack helped me heal after losing my baby. He can’t replace it, but he made it better." She turned her head slightly, looking at him over her shoulder. "George is the first man I ever loved and I did love him. I loved him more than I ever thought was possible and he destroyed me. Jack can’t fix that. And neither can you. I have to fix it. I have to heal. So, I want you to call me and sit with me. I want you to show up every Thursday with something to make give my kid cavities ... and I want you to wait. Because I think I could be worth it if you did."

"Callie-"

"I was going to sleep with you a long time ago ... but then ... my heart got involved too and I -"

He sat up behind her and put his hand on her back. She turned and hugged him. "I don’t have a right to ask," she said, "but will you please not give up on me yet?"

"I’m not giving up at all. I can’t." He pulled back and kissed her forehead. He wanted to kiss her mouth ... no, every inch of her, but the small contact was enough for the moment. "So, we’re having lunch today, right?"

"Yeah. So the nurses can kill me. Dead. You might as well put a target on my forehead."

"I’ve got your back. You’re safe."

She put her hand on his cheek. "You’ve got more than my back. Keep that in mind."

"Our hearts are involved, but not our bodies. That’s a first for me." Mark laughed. "And I’m not complaining."

"You complained really loud in the OR, Mark."

"Yeah, my ass will be chewed up and spit out by the Chief."

"Hmm, maybe he’ll let me watch if I pay him."

"You’re evil." His pager went off and he groaned when he lifted it. "Speak of the devil. Webber. See you later."

"I hope you’re in one piece."

"Ha ha."

*~*~*~

At noon, Callie picked Jack up at the nursery and took him to the cafeteria with her. One of the aides had told her that he was withdrawn and sullen, refusing to play with Tuck or any of the other kids. He was on his best behavior in the lunch line though and the fact that he had one arm around Callie’s leg the entire time they were choosing their food amused her to no end. When they sat down together, he moved his chair so close to hers that she had no elbow room, but she didn’t mind in the least. "Jack?"

He laid his sandwich back down on his plate. Folding his hands in his lap, he said, "Are you taking me back to the group home today?"

"Sweetie, I told you last night that I’m not doing that."

"Things change."

"Do you remember the day that we talked to Judge McCormick and he said that you and I were a family?"

Jack nodded. He looked like he was going to cry so Callie lifted him into her lap and hugged him. "Family is forever. That means that you are going to live with me forever ... or at least until you go off to college and get married. I’m always going to be your mom and I’m always going to love you ... no matter what you say or do."

"Really?"

"Really."

Jack put his hand on her cheek. "I hate school. And girls are grody. I ain’t going nowhere."

"I refuse to let you be that geeky guy who lives in his mother’s basement." She wrinkled her nose. "Now give me a kiss and stop acting like such an angel."

"Mami said I’m an angel."

"That’s because you snake charmed your grandma every time she came in the room." Callie put him back in his seat and opened his chocolate milk. "She’ll be here for your birthday party, kiddo, and so will Papi."

"Yay!" Jack exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Will they swim with me?"

Callie nodded, grinning. "Your grandpa is so much fun in the pool. He used to throw me so high in the air I thought I could fly."

Jack ate most of his lunch, babbling about his party and his fervent hope that there would be a dog, a rifle, a race car, and a space ship for him as gifts. Callie enjoyed her salad and tried in vain to get Jack to try it, but he went so far as to hide under the table when she held out a bite for him. She would have to accept that fruit was as cooperative as he would go with healthy food and continue to hide vegetables in their dinners at home.

Mark set his tray on the table and peered under it. "Are we playing hide and seek?"

"You’re it!" Jack called. "She’s trying to make me kill myself."

"What are you doing to him, Cal?" Mark sat down and a second later Jack appeared beside him and crawled into his lap.

"She wants me to eat *that*!" Jack pointed at Callie’s plate. "I’d rather eat a diaper. One that’s been *used*."

"Nice visual for the lunch table, kiddo. Now come back over here and leave Mark alone."

"He’s fine." Mark picked up an ear of corn and took a bite. "Mmm."

"Yuck."

Mark winked at Callie, who blushed and looked away. "Jack, I will give you five dollars right now if you eat this corn."

"I only eat corn for twenty."

Mark pulled his wallet out and laid a twenty on the table. "For this much cash ... you have to try your mom’s salad *and* eat the corn."

"All of the corn!?" Jack yelped. "It’s poison! It grows on the ground and *ants* walk on it. Ants have germs!"

"Then I’ll keep my money."

"No, no! I’ll eat it! Give it here!"

Stunned completely speechless, Callie watched her son devour the ear of corn and reach for her plate. He finished off what remained of her salad and picked up the money, folding it carefully before he belched. "That was disgusting!" he pronounced. "I bet I ate bugs."

"Nicely done, Sloan." Callie gave him a thumbs up.

"I try," he replied, giving her the patented McSteamy smile.

Callie gritted her teeth when her pager went off. Sometimes being a doctor was a terrible career choice. It stopped you from doing what you really wanted and she wanted nothing more than to watch Mark Sloan finesse her son a little longer. She pulled her beeper from her clip and frowned, then looked at Mark. "Would you mind taking him back to the nursery?"

"Not at all."

"Thank you."

Jack accepted a kiss from his mother and watched her walk away. "My mom’s real pretty, huh?"

"Yeah, she’s real pretty. And you took my flowers last night so I couldn’t tell her."

"You like her, huh?"

"I like her."

"If you wanted to kiss her goodbye ... you should have."

"What?"

"Just now."

"Jack-"

"You looked like you wanted to. When I watched those soap sud shows with Gertie, people would look at other people’s mouths when they wanted to get kissed and you sure have been looking at her mouth a lot."

Mark pulled out his wallet and said, "Why don’t you go buy yourself some cake or something."

"Anything I want?"

"Anything."

*~

Callie was finishing up a consult when her pager went off again. She groaned and glanced at Bailey, who was smiling at her knowingly. "What?" she snapped.

Miranda looked left and right before she spoke. "Now, I wasn’t there to see it, but I figure since our kids have weekly play dates while we have coffee then I’m allowed to ask. Did Mark Sloan basically tell the nurses that he wasn’t seeing them because he’s seeing *you*?"

"He basically told *everyone* that he *wants* to see me ... which we’re not actively doing, by the way. I’m not ready."

"Did he or did he not say that his *heart* was involved?"

"He did."

"You’re a damn fool, Torres."

"It’s called being *cautious*. Foolish would be to rush into something and -"

"Mark Sloan. Mark *Sloan* just figured out that he has a heart and he wants to give it to *you* and you’re not ready because ..."

"Because he’s Mark *Sloan*. And maybe it’s not his heart. Maybe it’s gas."

Bailey slapped her on the arm. "I hear a lot of things. The reason he said something to those nurses is because he’s been brushing them off since right after your miscarriage and they’re trying to break his defenses with strategic attacks. Mark *Sloan* has gone soft ... in all ways. Even down there."

Callie threw her head back and laughed. "Shut up! Seriously?"

"Seriously." Miranda wasn’t laughing at all. "Callie?"

"Yeah?" Callie sobered when she saw Bailey’s face. "Oh god, what?"

"Time matters. It does. When you’re hurt ... it takes time for the wound to heal. When you’re lost ... it can feel like hours before you find your way. And time if fleeting, too. Don’t waste too much time waiting to be ready." Bailey took her hand. "Because I’ve scrubbed into surgery with Sloan several times the past few weeks and all he talks about is Jack. And you. Time isn’t always the best thing in the world."

"CALLIE!" Meredith called, rushing breathless from the stairwell. "Jack. ER. Sick."

Callie sprinted past her and took the stairs two at a time.

Mark caught her around the waist when she stumbled into the pit a few minutes later. She was in the same shape that Meredith had been, completely breathless. "What happened?" she wheezed.

"It’s my fault." He held onto her, looking terrified. "I gave him ten bucks and told him to go buy whatever he wanted for dessert and he ... he spent *all* of it on junk that he scarfed down while I wasn’t looking and -"

"WHAT!?"

"I took my eyes off him for five minutes! I swear it was only five minutes and then I heard him throwing up and ... he’s okay. He’s fine. He’s got it all out and ... god, I’m sorry." He put his hand over his face. "I was right all along. I would have made a horrible father."

"There’s a lot of evidence to suggest otherwise, Mark." She grinned at him. "Where is he?"

Mark led her to Jack’s room.

And he smiled like an idiot as her words replayed in his head on loop the rest of the day.

*~*~*~*~

The four weeks that led up to Jack’s birthday found Mark appearing not only for spaghetti night, but for Monday’s meatloaf, Tuesday’s tacos and Friday’s feeding frenzy. Anything went on Fridays, but Jack’s gluttony scare had calmed his desire to indulge so he was content with anything ... even vegetables. He tried everything that Mark asked him to try except sprouts, which he spotted on the table on the Friday before his big birthday party and had a full blown tantrum over it.

"Get them away!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Get it off the damn table!"

Mark, who had never witnessed Jack’s wraith before, stood with his mouth hanging open as the little boy picked up the bowl and threw it across the room. Callie pulled him from the chair and told him to pick it up and Jack spun, hitting her in the stomach with his fists. Mark reacted before Callie could. He grabbed both of Jack’s wrists and shook him one good time. "Stop it!"

Jack stopped yelling and became still immediately. Mark leaned down at eye level and said, "You don’t hit girls! Ever! Apologize!"

"I-I’m s-sorry."

Jack’s chin trembled and he tried to lean into Mark, but Mark held him firm. "Go pick up the bowl and put the vegetables back in it like your mother asked."

Callie watched as her son slumped his shoulders, dragging his feet as he retrieved the bowl and all the sprouts that had fallen from it. Mark stood and wet several paper towels and when Jack brought him the bowl, he handed them to the child and said, "Now clean it up."

Jack returned to the corner where he had tossed the bowl and got on his hands and knees to wipe up the juice. Mark turned and looked at Callie. "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine. And ... impressed."

"I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but he hit you and - has he ever done that before?"

"Once," she replied. "Right in the face."

"How did you punish him?"

"Time out."

"Why don’t you make him stand in the corner tonight?"

"Why don’t you make him?"

"I have no problem with that." Mark walked across the room and checked to make sure the floor was spotless. He squatted down so that he was face to face with Jack. "What you just did was wrong. You can’t throw things or hit people. Especially not your mom because that hurts her and it makes *me* very angry. You -"

"I said I’m sorry!" Jack yelled. "So you shut up!"

Mark turned him around and nudged him into the corner. "You stand right there and think about how sorry you are and then when you’re very, very sorry ... you can tell us again."

"I will not!"

"Then you’ll be here for a while." Mark left him alone and walked back into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for Callie and nodded at it. "Let’s have dinner."

"Mark-"

"Sit down."

"But he -"

Mark moved around the chair and hugged her. Against her ear, he whispered, "If he thinks that we’re having fun without him ... he’ll make the connection that tantrums make him feel left out. He’s a smart kid."

It only took four minutes of hearing the two adults laugh to break Jack. He cleared his throat and called, "Mark!"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I’m very, very sorry now."

"Are you ready to eat dinner?"

"Yes, sir."

Callie and Mark looked at one another and fought hard not to laugh. Jack had never been so formal with *anyone*. They took a moment to collect themselves before Mark told him he could leave the corner and join them. The little boy walked in with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He walked to Callie first and hugged her, giving her a kiss before he turned to Mark and did the same. Mark put his plate in front of him and turned back to Callie, opening his mouth to speak.

Jack took a deep breath as he picked up his fork. "I’m still not never gonna eat those da ... uhm, stupid things. And I am *not* sorry for that."

After Jack was in bed ... Callie and Mark laughed until their sides ached.

*~*~*~

Callie’s parents arrived the following morning before eight. They used their own key to enter and quietly crept toward the stairs, intent on sleeping for as long as they could in one of the guest rooms. Jack, who was trying to find something to put in the corner he had stood in the night before so that *he* could not be put there again, saw them and shrieked, "Mami! Papi!"

Alejandro leaned down to catch his grandson as the little boy raced toward him. He threw him in the air and caught him, causing Jack to scream with laughter, then he hugged him. "Happy birthday, Jack Attack!"

Jack kissed him, then reached for Marguerite, who happily took him from her husband and rubbed his back. "Where is your mother?"

"She’s out back with the men."

"The what?" Al asked, stiffening.

"She got bouncy things for me." Jack pointed toward the back door. "They gotta be blowed up."

"I see." Al crossed the room and peering out the window. His daughter was holding court, talking to a group of workmen who were all dressed in matching shirts. He opened the door in time to hear her laughter and he narrowed his eyes, calling her name.

She entered a moment later and gave him a hug. "Hi, Dad."

"Why was Jack unattended in the house?"

"I didn’t know he was awake yet." Callie shrugged and crossed the room, kissing her mother on the cheek and lifting Jack into her arms. "What’s it gonna be, kiddo? You want chocolate cereal or the one with marshmallows?"

"Chocolate! And chocolate milk, too!"

"You got it." Callie walked into the kitchen, oblivious to the look that her parents exchanged.

A moment later, Jack carried his bowl into the living room and parked himself in front of the television on the floor to watch Saturday cartoons. Margie put a hand over her heart and marched into the kitchen. "Calliope!"

Callie jumped, splashing hot coffee on her hand. "Jesus! What?"

"Sugar for breakfast? And he doesn’t even eat it at the table?"

"It’s his *birthday*."

"This is unacceptable," Al said, joining his wife at the island. "He was alone in the house. Anything could have happened while you were flirting with -"

"Here we go," Callie mumbled under her breath. "Always the same. I can’t do a *thing* right. Ever."

"You’ve had him for months! You should have the hang of it by now," Margie scolded, her voice echoing loudly through the house. "Children need rules! And a better meal than what he’s having right now, Calliope! I taught you better! I never forced you to eat boxed cereal!"

"I like my cereal." Jack had appeared in the doorway and he walked across the room and lifted his arms, waiting for Callie to pick him up. When she did, he looked back and forth between his grandparents. "Don’t you yell at my damn mom."

"I’m *her* mother so I’m allowed," Margie said, then she processed his words. "Did he just say -"

"Moms don’t yell," Jack said. "Mine don’t. Never."

Callie shifted him on her hip and said, "Tell them what you usually have for breakfast."

"Fruit and *oatmeal*. She makes me eat oatmeal even though it looks like someone already freakin' did."

Margie and Al declared that they were going to take a nap a few moments and a few more of Jack's swear words later and Callie smiled at her son.

He actually *winked* at her.

Callie shook her head. Jack had been hanging around with Sloan *way* too much.

*~*~*~*~*~

Addison Forbes-Montgomery was not a children’s party kind of woman. She just *wasn’t*. On the off chance that she received an invitation from someone who didn’t know any better, she would usually buy something online and have it sent to the address on the card. She never made apologies for not going and never RSVP’d, but Jack Torres was different. Callie had introduced her son to Addison via web cam and as soon as he flashed his dimples at the camera and called her hot, Addison was a goner. So, when the invitation arrived at the Oceanside Wellness Center, she had not only RSVP’d, she had picked up the phone and called Callie to thank her for the inclusion.

She knew that she was wrong about children’s parties as she went down the huge air slide with Jack in her lap for the fiftieth time. When she landed at the bottom, it was Tuck’s turn and he happily held up his arms. Breathless, Addison reached for him and gazed at the incline she didn’t have any faith she could climb again. "This is worse than the elliptical," she told the grinning toddler.

"Want me to take over?" Mark asked her, appearing at her side.

Addison watched as he leaned down to tickle Jack. "We should be the square pegs at this party and we’re playing harder than the kids."

Tuck pulled Addison’s hair and pointed at the slide. "Go!"

"My ‘go’ is broken, Bailey Jr."

Mark reached out and took the squirming child from her arms, setting him on his feet. "Jack, why don’t you take Tuck to get some cotton candy."

"Cotton candy!" Jack screamed, taking the smaller boy’s hand in his and rushing toward the concession stand.

Addison smiled up at her ex. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Mark Sloan?"

"It’s been a long time, Addy." He shrugged. "People change. Who knew that you could get a tan and start dressing like a hippy?"

With a frown, she gazed down at her bare feet and denim shorts. "I do not dress like a hippy."

"Your shirt says ‘Go Green’. You’re a tree hugger, too, apparently."

"California is like a whole other planet." She leaned back against the slide and watched as several little girls gathered around Jack, each vying for his attention. "He’s a great kid."

Mark watched as the little boy shared his cotton candy with all of his admirers. He saw Mark watching him and waved, grinning from ear to ear. "He really is."

"The Steamer has been dried up by a *five* year old." Addison said knowingly.

On the other side of yard, near where a clown was making balloon animals, Callie laughed loudly. Addison leaned forward to look at her friend, who was talking to an incredibly handsome man. "Who’s the stud?"

The smile had faded off Mark’s face. He leaned down and caught Jack, who had also spotted the man and was heading that way. "Hey, little man, who’s that?"

"That’s Ethan."

"Ethan?"

"He brought my bed from the furniture store."

Mark let him go and watched him rush toward Ethan and Callie. So *that* was the man who had asked Callie out. Ethan leaned down and caught him, then spun him in a circle. There was a tiger in Mark’s stomach that was trying to claw its way out. Without speaking to Addison at all, he stalked across the yard toward the ‘couple’.

Addison put a hand on her chest, stunned.

It wasn’t Jack that taken the whore out of manwhore ... it was Callie.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey, Callie," Mark said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, hey. I was just looking for you." She smiled up at him. "Mark, this is Ethan. Ethan, Mark."

Mark begrudgingly shook his hand, mumbling a terse greeting. He listened for a few minutes as Ethan finished up a story that was probably supposed to be impressive and funny, and Callie *did* laugh, but Mark was visited with the urge to nudge the man into the pool. And drown him. He was as tall as Mark and was using every single move that Sloan had *invented*.

Callie knew that something was on Mark’s mind so as soon as Ethan wrapped up his delivery story from Hell, she excused herself and walked into the kitchen to see how the caterers were doing. He followed her and she directed a few questions to the wait staff before she thanked them and headed up the stairs. In her bedroom, she shut the door and said, "What’s wrong?"

"Why did you invite that smarmy bastard?"

"George is here?" Callie gasped. "I didn’t invi-"

"Ethan!" Mark growled.

"What!? He is not a smar-"

"He asked you out! He’s taking advantage of a single mother. He saw that you were just moving in and figured that you were lonely, beautiful, and *rich* so he made his move. That makes him a smarmy bastard and -"

Callie started to laugh. She laughed until she had to sit down on the bed and then she slapped her leg. "Are you serious!? Like ... you’re actually standing there pissed at me because ... because you’re *jealous* of a gay guy?!"

"A gay - what!?"

"Ethan and I go way back, Mark. He tore his rotator cuff a couple of years ago and we’ve stayed in touch."

"But Jack said that he called you pretty and asked you to the movies."

"God! Little pitchers have big ears! And even bigger mouths!" Callie chuckled. "He did call me pretty, but that’s because I was saying that no guy would ever want to date someone with a kid and -"

"I think I’ve proven that theory wrong."

"We’ve never had a date. Which proves my point."

"Then maybe we should. I overheard Bailey saying that she’s taking Jack tonight for a sleep over with Tuck."

"Big pitchers have *huge* ears."

He smiled and held out his hand. When she put hers in his, he pulled her to her feet and said, "You are pretty, by the way."

"You’re about to kiss me, aren’t you?"

"Yep."

"It’s about damn time."

He took a step back instead of closer. "Did you or did you not tell me to *wait*?"

"Did I or did I not start inviting you over almost every day? Hello? That was a sign for you to make your move."

"You can make the first move, Callie! I’ve seen you do it!"

Callie closed the distance between them and put her hand on his cheek. "So, what are we gonna do tonight?"

"There’s a carnival in town and - kissing you now."

The bedroom door flew open before their lips could meet and Callie’s father stood framed in it, looking like a rabid dog. "Calliope Iphigenia Torres! What the hell are you doing?"

"Dad-"

"Your son is unsupervised. Again."

"He is not unsupervised! There are fifty people milling around in my back yard and -"

"YOU are his mother. YOU are the one who chose to adopt him so you need to get your ass downstairs and handle him instead of ... handling *this* guy in your bedroom."

"We were just talking."

"Yes, I saw." Al pointed toward the back yard. "Who are all these men? Jack knows them all by name and -"

"Am I only allowed to have female friends, Dad? Why don’t you wrap me in a burqa and hire a chaperone!? Jack knows them all by name because he comes to work with me."

"Which is another mistake! You need to hire a decent nanny who can give him guidance and work on his manners and vocabulary instead of sticking him in a room full of other children who-"

Callie’s eyes burned with tears and she shook her head. "Are you going to get off my back just *once* today? You have made it very clear that I’m a horrible mother several times now."

"Then change it!" Al shouted. "Before you lose him to your shortcomings. You don’t raise your voice at him. You don’t discipline him or correct him and you let him behave like a wild animal!"

"Whoa!" Mark, who had only spoken with Callie’s father briefly, shook his head. "She is not a bad mother. You can’t possibly come here and spend a few hours and think you’re qualified to say something like that to her. You don’t see her with him. You don’t know anything about it. And just because you obviously have no problem yelling at your kids doesn’t make it the only approach. Or the right approach. So leave her the hell alone."

Al blinked and started to turn away, but he paused halfway and said, "Your mother and I will be leaving now, Calliope. We’d like to stay for lunch, but I’ve had a gut full already."

"Oh my god." Mark realized, as Al stomped down the stairs, that he had just made a horrible, horrible impression on the man. "I am so sorry. I’ll go apologize and -"

"Don’t you dare!" Callie caught his arm, awestruck by the fact that Mark had not only stood up for her ... he had stood up to her *father* and lived to tell about it. "Thank you."

"For pissing off your dad? For making him leave?"

"No. For being *that* guy."

"What guy?"

"The one that I kinda thought existed, but wasn’t really sure anymore." She squeezed his hand. "I would love to go to the carnival with you tonight."

"Really?" He smiled and moved a little closer. "Where were we?"

"I was about to kiss you," she replied, licking her lips. "But I think I’ll wait."

"What!? NO!"

She smiled sadly. "It’s time for lunch."

"One kiss. Just one."

"Nope." Callie sighed. "But I promise you’ll get a good night kiss."

"Okay, you know how I announced to *everyone* that I wanted to choke you or kiss you? Now I just want to choke you!"

"You’ll live. It’s just a few more hours." She walked through the door and into the hallway, glancing back at him as she headed for the stairs. "Are you looking at my ass?"

"Yes."

"Like the view?"

He nodded. "Very much."

"I might even let you kiss *that* later." She watched him come to a screeching halt and instinctively glanced down. His pants had tented in the front and she gave him a knowing grin. "Nice."

He turned on his heel and wordlessly walked into the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

Giggling into her palm, she headed into the basement to make sure that Jack’s present still had plenty of food and water.

*~

Her parents had not only left in a huff, they had left without saying goodbye to Jack, who had to be reassured by Callie for five minutes that he had done nothing wrong. She made a mental note to have a tantrum of her own when she talked to her folks again and then she enjoyed plenty of food while she sat next to Addison and chatted about the red head’s job in California. Ten minutes later, Mark came out of the house and took a seat on the opposite end of the long table, not looking in Callie’s direction.

Addison innocently bit into her hot dog. "Lover’s quarrel?"

Callie choked on hers. "WHAT!?"

"Look, I have to fly out of here in *four* hours. Don’t make me have to dig this out of you."

"You’re leaving already?"

"Tomorrow is Pete’s mother’s birthday and he invited me long before you adopted Jack. Plus ... I’m pretty crazy about him." Addison wiggled her eyebrows. "So, tell me. You and Mark?"

Callie took a bite of her pasta salad as she looked down the table at Mark. He had been watching her, but he quickly struck up a conversation with Ethan when she met his eyes. "He was the one who found me during the miscarriage and he stayed the entire night at the hospital with me. I felt like I was going to blow away in the tornado that was my life and he ... he held onto me. After that we started talking sometimes and then Jack happened and he found the lawyer and Jack eventually met him and insisted that he come to dinner and ... here we are. *Months* later and we haven’t had sex or even *kissed*, but I’ve never felt so ... sated ... in my entire life."

"You haven’t had sex with him? Why?" Addison looked appalled by that development. "Callie, he’s Mark. If you don’t do him he’ll find someone who will and then you’ll get your heart broken and -"

"He’s not having sex either."

Addison’s second hot dog fell into her lap and she scrambled to grab it before it hit the ground. "You believe that?"

"Yes."

"Are you insane?"

"He spends all of his free time at the hospital with me. Or in the nursery with Jack. I go by to peek inside and see them together every day. He has lunch with me, he’s been having dinner with us almost every night, and then when he goes home he calls me to say good night ... and then he calls to tell me good morning." Callie looked down the table again and smiled at him, which he returned with fervor. "He says he’s not and I believe him."

"I’m happy for you if he makes you happy, but be careful. I wasn’t here to help you after George, but when I would talk to you, I could hear how hopeless and broken you were. I’d cry for hours after we hung up and -"

"Never visited," Callie cut in. "You’d cry for hours, but you didn’t bother flying up to see if I was okay. You didn’t even come when the baby died."

"I’ve apologized several times for that, Callie. I - I had just been told that I was probably never going to have a baby. I wasn’t ready to come back here and see you like that knowing that you were so destroyed by losing something that I'd never have."

Callie reached over and took her hand. "I’m sorry. I don’t mean to put you on the spot like that. I just - it was hard to have no one. I mean, I talk to Cristina Yang all the time and I guess she’s a friend, but it’s not like what we had. I missed you more in those weeks than I’ve ever missed anyone."

"Let’s make if official then."

"I’m not marrying you, Addison. I’m kinda interested in the male physique. One in particular."

"Well, I’m crushed." Addy grinned. "What I meant, lesbo, is that we should officially get together once a month. I can Jack proof my house so that you can head down to see me with him and I can fly up here, too."

"What’s a lesbo?" Jack asked, standing behind Callie and Addison.

Callie looked at her friend. "It’s not your house that we need to Jack proof. It’s your mouth."

Addison shrugged innocently. The two friends sealed their plans for Callie to fly out on her next long weekend.

Jack opened his presents a while later. The child had truly been blessed with generous friends for his fifth birthday. His bounty included many remote controlled cars, video games, and to Callie’s utter horror ... an air rifle from Cristina. If the look on Callie’s face wasn’t enough to convince Yang that she was the world’s biggest idiot, what happened next certainly did. Jack grabbed it and shot the slide, causing it to deflate with a sonic boom that startled the younger party goers so badly that the frightened wails were enough to make ears bleed three miles away.

When the mayhem cleared and Mark put the air rifle in the trunk of his car ... pending safety lessons that Yang agreed to pay for, Callie brought a German Shepherd puppy from the basement and handed it to her son. He promptly burst into tears, burying his face in the animal’s fur as she tried to hug it and Callie at the same time. She gave him a kiss and asked him what he wanted to name the dog.

Jack dried his eyes, thought for a second, and said, "Sprout."

"Sprout?" Callie laughed at him. "Why?"

"Mark likes ‘em. And this will make me ‘member not to throw ‘em no more."

"Happy Birthday, Jack."

"Thanks, Mom. Best birthday ever."

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie had not been to a carnival since she was a child. Even though the fun was incredibly G-rated (anything else probably would have shocked her into a coma) and there were children rushing left and right, she felt like she was on a deserted island with Mark. One that came with rides. And stuffed animals. Proving that he was very, very good with his hands, Mark had won so many large stuffed animals that they had already made two trips to his car to unload their arms. When he saw a game that he had not yet tried, Callie grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bumper cars instead.

They were arm in arm when they emerged and ran into Meredith and Derek. Grey looked uncomfortable and kept glancing behind her. Callie eventually realized that she was looking at George and Izzie, who were having a heated argument beside the Scrambler. Their voices carried over the swell of cheesy eighties rock music and Callie heard her name more than once. She rolled her eyes and Mark kissed her temple, telling the others that they were going in search of funnel cake and sno cones.

At the concession stand, Callie called Bailey for the third time to check on Jack. Miranda scolded her and reminded her that she was not a sixteen year old babysitter and told her not to call again. Callie laughed as she hung up. Mark, who was standing behind her, slipped his hands around her waist and leaned his cheek against hers over her shoulder. "I take it Jack's not in traction yet?"

"He’s not in traction. I think she'd tie him up in the closet first." She leaned back against him. It shocked her that she could feel so at ease in his arms ... without actually having been in his arms for over a year. She was about to say something to him when Izzie appeared beside her with her hands on hips.

"It’s not working," Stevens snapped, glaring from Callie to Mark. "You won’t make him jealous enough to leave me."

Callie snorted. "You get that I’ve moved on, right?"

"Everyone knows that you two are just ... pretending. You’re no Addison, Callie."

Mark tightened his grip on Callie’s waist when she tried to move toward the blond. "You’re right, she’s not. I don’t think you were ever threatened by Addison, Stevens."


"You think I’m threatened by *her*?" Izzie scoffed, pointing at Callie. "Please!"

Mark laughed, shaking his head. "Go away. You’re embarrassing yourself."

George rushed up, grabbing Izzie’s arm. "Oh, god. She’s drunk and -"

"Stupid," Mark finished for him. "You must feel like a true dumbass, O’Malley. You traded the mansion for the shack and all you have to show for it is a public fight at the carnival and a girl who ..." He looked at Stevens, who leaned over and puked on a stroller that contained twins. "Is *that* charming."

Callie wrinkled her nose. "I don’t want funnel cake now."

"Let’s go, baby." Mark nuzzled her neck and gave George an identical smirk to the one that he had been given that day in the OR. "I can think of much better things to eat than funnel cake."

*~

"I don’t get it," Callie said as they left the fairground and pulled onto the main road. "I divorced him. She won. What more does she want?"

"Don’t think about them." Mark reached over and took her hand as he navigated through the traffic. "Think about the fact that I called you baby and you didn’t kick my ass."

She leaned her head against the back of the seat and gazed at him. She had no doubt that she was giving him that look that always came with cheesy pop music in movies. "We’ve made such huge strides in our relationship, Mark."

"And you haven’t even kissed me yet."

"I told you ... I’ll kiss you good night."

"You also mentioned your ass ... so don’t forget that either."

"What were you planning on eating that was better than funnel cake?" she asked, fighting hard not to laugh when his jaw tightened. "I can’t think of many things better than funnel cake."

His erection had reached critical mass and he kept his eyes on the road. He knew if he looked at her and saw that same sexy, smoldering look that he had seen in her bedroom at the Archfield, he would embarrass himself by getting off right then. In his pants. "Callie, if you ask me to spend the night ... I’ll show you what what’s better ... all night long."

She squirmed at his words, at the silky, husky way he delivered them. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"What would happen tomorrow morning if you stayed all night?"

"I guess you’d kick me out before Jack came home so he wouldn’t know."

"What if I didn’t kick you out?"

"Then I’d know there was a God."

Callie felt her eyes fill with tears. "Why me, Mark? If you’re serious and this isn’t you talking your way into my pants ... why me? I’m no Addison. I’m nothing like -"

"That’s why." He looked at her, then back at the road. "I don’t want another Addison. You lost your baby because your body couldn’t sustain it for whatever reason and I lost mine because Addison *wouldn’t* sustain it. You know, I’ve still got this Onesie that I bought. I keep it in my locker the same way you keep Jack’s things, but a Onesie can’t trace its hand or write me a note or hug me in the nursery."

"God, Mark, I’m sorry."

"Jack doesn’t just make you feel better about the baby you lost. He makes me better, too." Mark massaged the back of her hand with his thumb. "And you ... you make me forget that *anyone* else exists. And if this was about getting in your pants ... well, I would have given up already. It’s like Fort Knox over there."

She laughed, drying her eyes. "I prefer Fort Bliss."

"Oh, it’s definitely that. I’ve been living off memories for months. Memories of pure bliss."

"You’re getting laid tonight, Sloan. Don’t keep pouring it on so thick."

They were silent for a few minutes. Mark broke it by saying, "I won’t hurt you, Callie. You’re safe with me."

"I kn-"

Tires squealed.

Mark’s car spun and flipped, t-boned in the driver’s side by a truck.

And Callie’s words died with the lights on the dash as the Porsche came to rest on its roof in the middle of the busy highway.

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 3
Cristina hung up with Bailey and stared down at Callie. Their friendship had shocked her. She wasn’t looking for a friend, but after Callie lost her baby and almost lost her mind to boot, Cristina had blurted out during surgery that Callie should move out of the Archfield and in with her. To Yang’s shock, horror, and ... relief ... Torres said yes. They were like oil and water at first. Callie was a neat freak and decided to decorate the place with red throw pillows that caused Cristina to develop a nervous twitch. She finally gave them to Goodwill and assured Callie that they had been robbed.

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

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

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

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

Cristina didn’t advertise for another roommate.

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

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

She even made the *sounds*.

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

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

"What day is it?" Yang asked hopefully.

"Jack’s birthday. Oh my god! Jack!"

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

"You know my middle name, ‘Stina."

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

"Fuck you."

"How do you feel?"

"What happened?"

"Car wreck."

"I can’t move."

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

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

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

"Was he awake when he came in?"

"No."

"Head trauma?"

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

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

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

"We went to a carnival."

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

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

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

"Everyone knows my sex life!?"

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

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

"You want me to kill him?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Callie stopped.

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

*~

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

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

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

"My chest hurts."

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

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

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

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

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

"Grey," Webber warned.

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

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

"My sentiments exactly," Meredith told her.

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

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

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

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

*~

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

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

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

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

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

"I’m a *doctor*."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What were you thinking?" Callie asked.

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

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

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

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

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

But she would damn well keep trying.

*~

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

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

"Nothing internal?"

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

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

"He was released into police custody."

"Shit. I just needed five minutes."

"How do you feel?"

"I’ll feel better when I see her."

"You really like this one, huh?"

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

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

When Mark was wheeled into the room, he looked expectantly at Callie’s bed, then at Meredith, who pointed at the bathroom. Nurse Tyler had him settled in and was gone by the time Callie emerged. Mark had to look away. Her face was swollen and the bandage on her head did little to cover the discoloration that still peeked out. He looked back at her when she said his name and put her hand on his cheek. "I’m so sorry, Callie."

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

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

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

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

"I already ordered it."

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

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

"Let me see, baby."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He told her is was silent no more.

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

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

"Night, baby."

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

"Thanks, ‘Stina."

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

*~*~*~*~

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

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

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

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

And let her do all the driving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She took a deep breath. "Okay."


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

"Thanks, Miranda."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*~

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

"They’re millionaires, though. Right?"

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

"Why not?"

"Because money is the root of all evil."

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

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

"No, I existed."

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

"Hmmm."

"Did he hurt you?"

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

"And your mom?"

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

"Then why did they -"

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

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

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

"Oh, my brown wig."

"Wig?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"I don’t talk about it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"None taken."

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

Her parents were right about her destiny being great.

She had saved Jack.

And him.

*~*~*~*~*~

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

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

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

"What?" Mark and Cristina asked together.

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

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

"It’s a queen size bed."

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

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

"Until we what?"

"Decide if this is what we want."

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

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

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

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 4
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