Title: Fallen (1/?) (The Sequel to Ready for a Fall)
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairings: Alex/Callie, Addison/Mark, Meredith/Derek, Cristina/Burke
Summary: In Ready For A Fall, Callie's marriage to George ended and she found love and happiness with Alex. Now, it's Addison's turn to get married, Meredith is engaged to Derek, and Cristina and Burke are slowly rebuilding their own life together. There are many ways to fall. Some are good. Some are bad. And when you hit the earth ... you've simply fallen ... and sometimes it hurts too much to stand again.

Prologue

"How long does it take for newlywed sex to stop?" Callie asked, putting her tray on the table in front of Addison. With a groan, she eased into the seat and shifted uncomfortably. "Because as much as I love it ... it’s killing me."

"Your lipstick is smeared," Addison told her, looking back down at the open bridal magazine in front of her. "Do you think the gourds were a good idea?"

"Gourds are typically Halloween like," Callie replied, rubbing her mouth with her napkin. "We’re doing the dress fitting this afternoon, right?"

"Yeah. Do you think the color I chose will work for you guys?" Chewing her bottom nail, Addison pulled a huge swatch of color samples from her purse, flipping through the ring of fabric until she found a shade called Latte. She moved into the chair beside Callie’s and held it under her friend’s chin, then against her cheek. "It looks great with your hair, but I don’t know if it’ll work with Cristina and Meredith. It’s more taupe than Latte. That’s a fall color, right?"

"It’s fine," Callie assured her for what felt like the millionth time in the week she had acquired the color samples. When Addy flipped back to the orange swatch that she had been mulling, Callie snatched the ring and put it under her leg. "I refuse, refuse, refuse to wear Pumpkin. It’s not happening."

"It's an October wedding, Callie."

"And I’ll carry a gourd as a bouquet, but I will be wearing Latte when I do it. Or burgundy. That’s a nice fall color."

"You did *red* at your wedding, which is a variation of burgundy. I want to be original." Addison watched as the black haired woman rubbed a hand over her face. "You’re pale. Why are you pale? Oh my god! You cannot get sick! I am getting married in *twenty one* days, Callie.

"I’m not sick. I’ve been married for *four* months today. Alex seems to think that means we need to have sex every four hours to celebrate it. I cannot do it again today."

"I know what will stop the sex."

"What?"

"Have you told him about the air show yet?"

Callie’s eyes widened and she shook her head. "Hell no. He’d kill me if he found out I signed up to fly in it."

"Four months of marriage and you’re already keeping secrets?"

"It’s not a secret! My name is right there on the program."

Addison shook her head. "And because Alex will be getting one of those programs ... he’ll know?"

"It’s a sin of omission. It just hasn’t come up in conversation."

"Calliope, you should be ashamed." Addison sipped her Coke as she regarded Mrs. Karev. "Now you’re lying to me. It did come up in conversation. Alex asked you if you wanted to go see the air show and you said that you weren’t interested. That was the perfect opportunity for you to mention that you were getting in for free ... you know ... because you’re performing."

"Shut up." Callie lifted her burrito and bit into it, taking a moment to savor the medley of flavors. "The hospital cafeteria has greatly improved since Irene took over."

As if on cue, Alex’s mother walked out of the kitchen and headed across the lunchroom toward Callie. She kissed her daughter in law on the head as she slid two pieces of chocolate cake on the table. "New recipe. You ladies are my guinea pigs. Let me know what you think before you leave."

"Why wait?" Addison asked, ignoring her salad and digging into the cake. She bit into it and cried out rapturously. "Can you make this on a bigger scale, Irene?"

"What do you mean?" Irene asked, smiling as Callie had the same reaction to dessert.

"Well, I need a groom’s cake for my wedding and Mark *loves* chocolate."

"You want it in any particular shape?" Irene replied.

"Boobs?" Callie suggested, then chuckled when Addison flipped her off. "Okay, not boobs."

"What boobs?" Cristina asked, sliding into the seat on the other side of Callie. Without asking, she scooped up Callie’s cake and snatched the fork out of her hand. With her mouth full, she rolled her eyes heavenward and said, "No way Stevens baked *that*. That is too damn good for words."

Addison slapped Yang’s hand when she reached for hers. "Get your own!"

Irene laughed. "There’s plenty more. And you let me know what you decide, Addison. I’d love to help. Callie, honey, you look tired. Maybe you should try to sleep after lunch."

"From your lips to God’s ears," Callie replied, then stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. "I feel like death."

The thought of getting near an on call room struck fear in Callie’s heart. She had attempted to nap that morning and woke up to her pants slipping over her hips. The sex was *good*. There was no denying that the sex was good, but it was just. too. much. Alex was insatiable and while it made her feel wanted ... it also made her spend time hiding when she wasn’t working. She snapped out of her thoughts when Addison demanded the color swatch. With a sigh, Callie handed it over and watched Cristina grit her teeth as Latte was pressed against every inch of her exposed flesh.

"Awww, how’s my Bridezilla?" Mark asked as he arrived carrying his tray.

"Doing her best to walk down the aisle in traction," Cristina answered for the redhead. "If you press one of those pieces of fabric on my cheek again ... I’ll shove it so far up your ass that you’ll need *neuro* surgery to take it out. Got it?"

"Ouch," Callie said. "Looks like someone is riding the cotton pony."

"I have cramps *and* bloating," Cristina replied.

Mark ignored everyone except his fiancé. "Do you want to come eat lunch with me? Where you and your neurotic behavior can be appreciated?"

"I can’t," Addison told him. "I’m scrubbing in at one o’clock, but the offer is duly noted and I’ll repay you later."

"I’ll hold you to that." He winked at her and headed across the room to join Derek.

"Guess what?" Addison asked Cristina. "Callie still hasn’t told Alex about the air show."

Cristina made a face. "CK, you already had one of the world’s shortest marriages. Are you trying for number two?"

"He’ll never know!" She smiled at the nickname her friend had given her. CK, her new initials.

"Uh huh," Addison replied, getting to her feet. "You’re either a glutton for punishment or naive as hell."

"How will he find out? I’ve sworn all of you bitches to secrecy," Callie told her.

"Tell him. I’m serious." With that, Addison turned on her heel and left the cafeteria, pausing to kiss Mark, who watched her exit like a lovesick dog.

"You really should tell him." Cristina bit into her hot dog and glanced toward the door. "Now’s your perfect chance."

"Oh god." Callie watched her husband pause to talk to his mother, then he frowned Callie’s way and she quickly turned her attention back to her lunch. A moment later, he appeared beside her and said, "Are you finished eating?"

"Yeah. I was just keeping Cristina company," she replied. Wearily, she added, "Why?"

"Come with me."

"Alex-"


"Come on." He took her arm, pulling her to her feet, then he gave her a kiss and traced the name on her jacket. "Calliope Karev. That sounds amazing."

"It feels amazing," she said, hugging him.

"I despise cute newlyweds. Go away now," Cristina ordered, waving her hands like they were annoying gnats. "Must digest."

"Let’s go." Alex took his wife’s hand and led her to the fourth floor on call room. He walked behind her at one point, noticing the way she stepped gingerly, the way her hips didn’t have their usual swing. When they were locked safely behind the doors, he kicked off his shoes and said, "Get in the bed."

"Alex, we need to talk." She held her ground, even as he advanced on her. "I love you dearly, but -"

He pulled his shirt over his head and she swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. The tattoo over his heart, her kiss, rippled as he carelessly tossed the garment aside and she opened her mouth to speak, only to have him put his finger against her lips. "You’re exhausted, baby. Let’s go to sleep."

"Did you eat lunch?"

"Big breakfast," he replied, tugging her shirt off. He watched as she kicked her shoes aside and slipped her pants down, then frowned when he saw the bruise on her thigh. "Damn, Callie. I - when did I -"

She glanced down at her leg. "You didn’t do that one. That was the gear shifter last night." Turning, she showed him her back. "But that was this morning."

He touched the bite mark on her bronzed skin, then leaned forward and kissed it. "It won’t happen again."

"Uh, yeah it will." Turning, she smiled at him, then poked a particularly nasty bruise on *his* chest. "We do it in equal measures and I *like* it, remember?"

"Are you okay?" he asked seriously.

"I’m *fine*, Jock Strap, but if you don’t feel guilty enough yet to give me a massage ... I think I can cry from exhaustion."

"Evil." He pulled back the cover on the bed and waited for her to crawl in.

Callie smiled when he began to rub her back. Married life was definitely agreeing with her. She was happier than she had ever been. They had not fought *once* since their July fourth wedding unless you counted the minor disagreement during their European honeymoon. It was something they laughed at *now*, but at the time it felt horrible.

It was the stupidest fight known to mankind ...

"I don’t want to do it." Alex vehemently shook his head. "No part of me is interested in this, Gothika."

"Couples do it all the time!" To prove her point, Callie gestured at the man and woman who were about to jump over the side of the bridge. They had their arms around each other and the man’s screams were only slightly less pronounced than the girls when they dropped. "How many people can say that they bungee jumped in France?"

"Not me, but all those people can." He nodded his head at the impressive line. "Why do you *still* have a damn death wish?!"

"It’s safe!"

"We’re not doing it."

"*I* will do it and you can stand here on the bridge and miss out on all the fun," she shot back.

"If you even *attempt* to walk past me ... you’re going over without the damn bungee cord."

"Alex!"

"NO!"

"Fine, let’s just go sit in the hotel room and twiddle our thumbs. That’s a nice, safe way to enjoy our first day in FRANCE!"

They didn’t speak as they headed back toward their insanely small two seater car. Alex opened the door for her and she got in, her arms over her chest. He wanted to slam the door and kick the tire, but he didn’t. Instead, he kneeled down beside her and took her hand. "I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry if I’m that dull bastard who values your life a little more than a cheap thrill. You just mean the world to me and -"

"Can you please be the dull bastard who makes it a little easier for me to stay pissed?" She smiled at him. "Stop saying the perfect things."

Denying her anything was proving to be impossible for Alex. "Do you really want to do this?"

"Do you really *not* want to do this?"

"I really don’t, but if you want to ... we can."

"No," Callie replied, leaning down to kiss him. "Some other time."

"Are you sure?"

"Alex, you give me so much. I don’t want to be that person who abuses it. Do you want to go to Notre Dame today instead of tomorrow? We’ve got time."

"I actually liked the other idea. The hotel room, but we won’t be twiddling our thumbs."

"Now that’s a plan." She kissed him again. "Our first married argument. Let’s never do it again."

"You’ll change your mind when I show you what married make up sex feels like."


And just like that ... the fight had ended.

They both mistakenly assumed that it would always be so easy.


Chapter One

The Sky High Air Show was always a big attraction, but this year surprised everyone, especially Callie. She had participated twice in the past and still had to do a double take when she saw the crowd from the air. People had flocked to see ‘Purple Haze’, a jet propelled big rig who Callie would be playing chicken with at the end of her run. She knew that her friends were front and center and she would be passing right beside them for a complicated maneuver that involved being upside down and practically on top of the crowd, but she had done it effortlessly every time she rehearsed and she knew it would blow their minds. And it was fun. She’d be high on adrenaline for days after all was said and done.

She wasn’t flying her jet today. She was flying an ethanol based stunt plane that she had fallen in love with. It had a skull painted on its underbelly and fireflames on the tail. And it handled so easily that she had decided to place an offer to buy it. So far, she hadn’t heard back, but since she offered more than the plane was worth, she doubted it would be rejected. Flying was in her blood and she wanted to do it as often as she could. Her private jet was a great travel plane, but *this* plane was built for crazy stunts so that’s just what she did as she climbed into the air. She rolled, a move called ‘Tsunami’ that caused so much G force that she thought her chest would explode. To take her mind off the pressure, she turned her music up loud and executed another roll, this one as she did a nosedive for the earth.

"OH MY GOD!" Addison screamed, covering her eyes as the little plane raced toward the ground. "DID SHE LOSE CONTROL!?"

"Somebody sedate her," Cristina suggested, eating popcorn. Callie pulled out at the last minute and tipped her wings at the crowd as she zoomed past. The cheers were deafening. Cristina raised her arms as if Callie could see. "Damn, she’s good."

"SHE’S DEAD!"

Everyone turned and looked at Alex, who was a few feet away from them. "Busted," Mark said. "Hey, man."

"Hey, man?" Alex growled. "Did you actually just say ‘hey, man’ like this is -"

"Callie Karev has been flying since she was a child," the announcer’s voice boomed. "The move that you’re about to witness will bring her within twelve feet of the runway. It’s called a ‘boomerang’ and you’re about to see why."

Addison covered her mouth when she saw the fear on Alex’s face. He moved forward, gazing up at his wife who was once again barreling toward the ground. Callie flew so low that the plane disappeared for a moment and then she shot straight up, leaving a plume of smoke that looked just like a boomerang, v-shaped. "She knows what she’s doing," Addy said, attempting to calm him down.

Alex said nothing as his eyes followed the plane. He half listened to the announcer go on and on about each complicated trick and time seemed to drag so slowly that he wondered if there were *any* other pilots working that day. When Callie flipped the plane end over end at one point, his fingernails dug into his palms and he felt someone put a hand on his back, but he moved away. They had betrayed him just as surely as Callie had. They had kept her secrets.

"She made us promise not to tell you, dude," Cristina told him, watching his jaw tighten. "How did you find out?"

He still didn’t look away from the plane, which was now a small dot against the clouds. "Webber asked me why I wasn’t here when everyone else had begged off to watch her."

"OH SHIT," Addison cried. "I was supposed to tell Webber to keep a lid on it."

"You have a survival instinct, Addy. Use it and say no more," Mark whispered. "He’s pissed as hell."

The announcer kept on talking from a few feet away, oblivious to the drama unfolding. "The next move that you’ll see will involve the bridge to our left. This bridge has a clearance of eighteen feet below it and like a camel through the eye of a needle, Karev will take the plane under ... upside down."

"No way!" Cristina cried, moving forward for a better view. The bridge was so close that she didn’t need to move at all, but squatted down for good measure, so that she could see it all.

Alex moved forward involuntarily. The look on his face suggested that he was torn between staying and running. He felt his heart lurch in his chest and put his hand over it when Callie turned the plane upside down right before she got to the bridge. For the briefest moment, he thought he saw her black hair, and then ... then she cleared the bridge and zoomed past them, climbing back toward the sky. The applause was deafening and briefly ... it drowned out the blood rushing in his ears. But only for a second.

"And now ... ladies and gentlemen ... what you came here for. In your right hand corner we have Purrrrrrple Haze, the big rig capable of three hundred and ten miles per hour at the drop of a hat. In the left hand corner, we have Callllllllie Karev, in her stunt plane which is also capable of -"

"What is she doing?" Alex asked, snatching the program from Addison’s hand. He read through it and swore. "What the fuck!?"

"Alex, she’s been practicing for weeks. It’s okay." Mark clapped him on the shoulder. "She’s fine."

"It should be noted," the announcer went on, "That there will be so much smoke on the runway that Callie will have to pilot her plane on instinct alone. She won’t be able to see the truck through the Purrrrrrple Haze it will create and she’ll have to -"

"I wish he’d shut up," Addison said, glancing at her best friend’s irate husband again. "Alex-"

"Zip it," Alex growled.

They heard the big rig before they saw it. It thundered onto the runway and revved its engine. Callie flew down behind the trucker and it looked like she had landed on top of him for a moment. Instead she let her wheels skim the runway right in front of him, attempting for intimidation. The truck driver revved his engine, seemingly from anger, and then Callie was in the air again and executed a stomach churning loop that sent her flying back toward the truck. The driver hammered down and the jet fuel that propelled it sent flames shooting behind it as it darted straight toward Callie, who was letting her wheels graze the tarmac again.

The smoke that issued from the truck was indeed purple. Callie’s plane was emitting white and as the two raced toward each other, everyone held their breath. Alex dropped the program in his hand when Callie disappeared into the haze, then she shot straight up and the truck, still flaming, broke through the white and let a parachute fly from its backside, causing black smoke to join the purple and white as tires squealed to a stop just inches from the end of the runway.

Alex snatched the program from the ground and flipped through it. Callie wasn’t finished yet. She did a few more tricks while the truck set up for another run. She created a heart shape against the blue sky, then a figure eight, and then the truck was revving again and she flipped upside down in mid air and from the vantage point on the ground, it looked like the cockpit of her plane was resting on top of the truck as flames and smoke and noise propelled them down the runway so fast that you could blink and miss it.

Alex didn’t blink.

And the tears that blurred his vision didn’t erase enough of the scene before him to really ease his mind.

After another fifteen tense minutes, Callie’s part of the show ended and she landed gracefully. She had gotten clearance for all of her friends to come into ‘the pit’ and she smiled when she saw them walking toward her as she powered down the plane. That smile faded, however, when she saw Alex. One of the ground techs pulled a ladder over and Callie took a deep breath. Her getaway could not happen now. If she started the plane and took off again ... she’d probably crush the tech.

Reaching up, she unhooked her oxygen mask and hung it over the yoke, then she unlocked the pit glass and got to her feet. She left her helmet on, with the visor covering her eyes so no one could see the apprehension there. The tech extended his hand and helped her climb down the ladder, then congratulated her on a fabulous run. Callie thanked him and turned in time for Addison to hug her.

"How long has he been here?" Callie whispered, daring to glance at Alex, who had moved to the other side of the plane.

"Almost from the beginning," Addy replied. "Callie, he was almost crying. He was that scared."

"Move," Cristina elbowed Addison out of the way and looked up at Callie. "It’s so sad that you lived through this madness only to be murdered by your husband. We told you to tell him."

"We’re going," Mark said, grabbing both women by the arm. He gave Callie an unmistakable look of sympathy as he led them back the way they’d come.

Callie took a deep breath and moved around the plane to join Alex when her friends were out of earshot. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he looked her up and down, making her feel like he was measuring her worth ... and finding her lacking. "I’m sorry," she said, adjusting the zipper on her flightsuit.

"You’re not sorry," he snapped.

"I did this for charity."

He scoffed. "Whatever, Callie."

"I don’t want to fight with you."

"Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you look me in the face and tell me that you were doing this? Do you know what it felt like to watch you? How it felt to see you taking stupid risks and -"

"I’ve been training pretty hard for this, Alex. This is what I’ve been doing instead of helping Addison."

"So you’ve been lying to me about that, too? All the times that you’ve been telling me about dress fittings or about flower bouquets ... you’ve been doing this?"

She nodded. "I had one dress fitting, but the rest ... I’m only telling you this so you’ll realize that I wasn’t just up there being foolish. Everything is planned and choreographed and it’s *safe*."

"Do you know how many pilots die at airshows?" he asked.

"Not as many drivers who die on the road."

"Callie, most drivers don’t purposely go out of their way to be reckless! Oh wait, you do, right? You’re a street racer and you’re oh so proud of that." He threw his arms in the air. "Fuck it. Do what you want to do."

"You’re overreacting."

"Mrs. Karev?"

Callie turned and gave the owner of the airplane a tense smile. He extended his hand and informed her that he was accepting the bid she had placed to buy the plane. "Anyone who can fly this death trap like that deserves to have it. I’ll even knock fifteen thousand off your offer. I’ll have my lawyer contact yours."

Callie thanked him and when she turned to look at Alex again ... she knew that he had only been pissed before. He was now so infuriated that she doubted he could speak.

She was wrong.

"YOU BOUGHT THIS THING!? YOU’RE DOING THIS SHIT AGAIN!?" he yelled, ignoring the glances that people shot their way. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING!?"

Before she could reply, he told her to fuck off and walked away.

She didn’t bother with the meet and greet that all the pilots participated in. Instead, she went home, still dressed in her flight suit and waited for him.

He never showed.

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie’s food sat untouched in front of her the following day at lunch. Cristina approached her with caution, making a face when she saw the state her friend was in. Callie's black hair had been piled up on top of her head and she wore no makeup. The dark circles under her eyes suggested a night spent crying and when Yang heard her sniffle, she figured that the crying had extended into the new day as well. "Hey," she said, sitting down beside Callie. "He’ll come around."

"He didn’t come home last night."

"I know. He spent the night on Meredith’s sofa after he got so drunk that he puked on Stevens’ shoes." Cristina opened her can of soda and glanced down at Callie’s plate. "You’re not eating?"

"Not hungry."

"Don’t do this again, Callie." Cristina picked up Callie’s can of tea and flipped the tab, holding it out until her friend took it. "You remember the feeding tube, right? You know that your dad will have it put back in."

"I have been married *four* months and my husband has already left me." Putting the can back on her tray, Callie started to get to her feet. Cristina caught her arm, however, and pulled her back down. "I have to-"

"He hasn’t left you. He’s pissed. It’s better to be apart until he calms down because he’s bound to say something he can’t take back and you’ll hold a grudge. So sit there and eat because he just walked in and if you leave he’ll think you don’t want to talk to him."

Callie turned and looked toward the lunch line. Sure enough, Alex was checking out the sandwiches and she bit her lip when he chose one and went to pay. Not wanting to be caught watching him, she stared at Cristina who nodded after a second and said, "He’s coming over here."

If Alex was shocked by her appearance, he didn’t comment. Instead, he stopped beside her and said, "What time are you getting off?"

"Six," she replied hopefully. "Do you want to -"

"I’m stopping by to get some of my things. I’d rather do it while you’re not there."

Callie’s stomach felt like it was turning inside out and she was grateful she hadn’t eaten. "You - you’re leaving?"

"Well, let’s think about this, Callie." He finally met her eyes. "Do I want to stay with a woman who lies to my face or do I want to go? It seems pretty cut and dried to me." When she opened her mouth to reply, he cut her off, "I’ll go before you get off. I’ve looked at you enough today."

Alex headed across the room, not sitting with Mark and Derek who both waved at him. Instead, he sat at an empty table beside a group of nurses and turned his back on the room at large. Within minutes, he was laughing at something a cute blond was saying and Callie walked out of the cafeteria, not looking his way. She stayed locked in the bathroom for as long as she could, but she was paged after three hours. She had cried so much that her chest ached and her hands were trembling when she lifted the pager and checked the number.

ER. 911

Getting to her feet, she opened the stall and paused at the sink to wash her face. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were flushed and puffy so she grabbed a face mask from the hallway to cover the worst of it. For good measure, she tucked her hair under a scrub cap so she at least gave the appearance of working. Alex was standing just behind the small crowd and he glanced her way when she walked in, but didn’t acknowledge her beyond that.

A multi car pileup on the freeway had several patients inbound and Callie felt like a zombie as she reached for the yellow trauma suit and slipped it over her scrubs. Yang tied it for her and handed her a pair of gloves as they headed out into the ambulance bay to await the incoming traumas. Addison and Meredith appeared a moment later and Addison put an arm around Callie’s shoulder, hugging her. Neither woman spoke as the sirens grew louder.

Meredith reached down and squeezed Callie’s gloved hand with her own. "For what it’s worth ... he thought about calling you last night. We stopped him, though. It was three in the morning and -"

"I was awake," Callie replied, her eyes on the emergency entrance.

"He wasn’t saying much that you’d want to hear," Mer said. "But he’ll come around. He will."

The ambulance arrived and Callie opened the back door.

For the first time in her life, work didn’t take her mind off her own problems.

Callie was needed in two surgeries so she worked with Derek, whose patient was the most critical of the two, first. She put pins in a woman’s legs while Shepherd relieved the brain pressure. He tried to make small talk, but Callie mostly replied with grunts and nods so he gave up. She finished quickly and headed into Mark’s surgery, drawing up short when she saw Alex standing beside him.

Wordlessly, Callie examined the x-rays that had been tacked onto the light panel. Gazing at the films didn’t relax her like it usually did. The man’s wrist had been shattered, but it wasn’t the worst she had seen by a long shot and a few pins and screws would have him back on the road to recovery. Rolling her neck, Callie picked up the scalpel and made the first incision, praying to fall into the zone and be oblivious to the brown eyes boring into her from across the table.

The phone trilled in the corner and one of the nurses answered it. When she hung up, she said, "Nine fatalities. And we’re busting our asses to save the guy who caused it."

Callie glanced at Mark, who nodded at her and said, "Our fearless Speedracer here decided to impress his girlfriend by racing another buddy of theirs on the highway. His girlfriend died at the scene."

Beside Callie, the anesthesiologist made a disgusted noise. "I say I wake him up and let him *feel* what he’s done."

"He’s a patient," Callie said, clamping the incision she had made open and cleaning the area with water. "Right now he’s just a patient. He can be demonized when he wakes up."

"Don’t mind her," Alex said, his eyes narrowed over his mask. "She’s got a soft spot for reckless endangerment."

Anger caused her cheeks to flush and Callie was glad that she was hidden behind the mask. "That’s about all I have a soft spot for right now."

"Oooooh," said the nurse who had answered the phone. "Trouble for our resident newlyweds?"

"Our only trouble is that one of us is an idiot," Alex replied. "And it’s not me."

"That’s enough," Mark interjected, when Callie dropped an entire container of sterile screws in the floor. "Cal, do you need a minute?"

"No." She accepted a screw from a new box loaded it into her drill. "What I need is my head examined for marrying someone who can’t be professional."

"Says the woman," Alex growled, "who doesn’t know if she’s a pilot or a doctor."

"Don’t be jealous, Jock Strap, just because I have many talents and you have *one*."

"Oh, and what’s that?" he asked.

"Letting *fear* dictate your life." Callie put the first screw in place and glanced back at the nurse who had teased them. "Our honeymoon? He refused to bungee jump, drive the Autobahn, or go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I mean, we should have just stayed in the states and saved our money."

There were several snickers and Alex shifted uncomfortably. "It’s not my fault that you didn’t get the memo about honeymooners and sex. I may have a fear of heights, but Torres here has a fear of -"

"Did I not say that’s enough!?" Mark shouted suddenly, causing everyone to jump. "Alex, get out. Go."

"My pleasure!" Alex yelled, stepping away and yanking his surgical scrubs off. "I’ve got to go pack anyway."

*~*~*~*~

Alex did pack. By the time Callie got home, all of his drawers were hanging open and from the looks of the hangers in the floor, he had yanked his clothing from them. As hard as it was to see that his closet was mostly empty, the absolute worst thing in their bedroom was a photo of them, from their trip to Alcatraz, that he had broken out of the frame and ripped down the middle. That was left on her pillow.

And his wedding band was lying between the two pieces.

Instead of crying, she demolished the rest of the room and headed out to the garage, passing Leon and Irene who waved at her. She didn’t wave back. Instead, she got into her car and sped off, not looking in the rearview mirror. She drove aimlessly for close to an hour. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten all day. With a sigh, she headed into town and parked at a steakhouse. Inside, she scanned the menu absently before she placed her order.

She was contemplating calling Alex when her waitress approached carrying a mixed drink. "A gift. From the gentleman at the bar."

Callie let her leave it and nodded at the man, who lifted his own drink in response. She had never seen him before and she left it at a simple nod of gratitude. The last thing she needed was him thinking she was encouraging him. Instead, she gazed at the drink and hated the way her mouth watered as she grabbed the napkin and tugged it forward. What she should have done was send it back and call Marcel, the meeting leader at Alcoholics Anonymous. She could have called Chief Webber, too, but what Callie Karev did was bring it to her mouth and drink deep. It was gin and tonic, one of her favorites, and it burned all the way into her stomach.

The things she had learned in AA seemed to go right out the window and she fleetingly thought that she’d be giving back her sobriety chips. If she even went back. As she finished off the drink, she was tempted to call Marcel and tell him that AA didn’t really work and she wouldn’t be wasting her time anymore. Then she thought of her liver and the damage she already had from almost dying the previous year from alcohol poisoning ... so she raised her hand and ordered another. Because it just made sense that if she was going to do it again ... she’d do it right. And all the way.

"Hey, Callie O’Malley Karev." Sydney Heron, who was carrying two shot glasses, slumped into the booth across from her. She had obviously been crying as much as Callie had. "Life? Sucks."

"Tell me about it," Callie replied. "What’s wrong with you?"

"I wanted to be Chief Resident. I wanted it really, really bad," Sydney tipped the first glass, then the second. "And now that I’ve got it ... I would give it right back. I live at the hospital. I do. I stay there. People say home is where your heart is, but I don’t think so. My heart’s not in the hospital anymore. It’s paperwork and schedules and I’m not learning anything except how to be a secretary. No surgeries for me."

Callie made a face at her when she belched. The woman was clearly drunk and she talked more in that state, if that were even possible. Dr. Heron’s shirt was inside out and her hair was oily, slicked back in curly ponytail. "You could resign," Callie said.

"Oh, I don’t quit. Quitters are shitters." Sydney said matter of factly, then buried her face in her hands and started to sob. "It needs to quit me."

"Okay, Brokeback Mountain," Callie put a hand on her arm. "Breathe."

"What about you? I heard your marriage is already over. Did Alex really move out?" Sydney asked as she pulled a mound of tissue from the metal holder. She noisily blew her nose, apologizing profusely as she did so. "Well?"

"Apparently."

Sydney laughed. It was a miserable, wasted sound. "I hate my job and you’re unlovable. What a pair we make."

Callie’s drink arrived and she downed half of it, feeling the burn. "Did you order food yet?"

"Yeah," Sydney nodded, then hiccupped. She watched Callie for a moment, then cried out, pointing at the glass in her hand. "You’re not supposed to be drinking!"

"Neither are you. You’re still on duty." Callie watched as the bartender carried a plate of food toward them. She set it in front of Sydney and patted her on the arm in a familiar way that made Callie think that the other woman visited the bar frequently. before she walked away. Callie’s own food arrived as the bartender walked off and she wrinkled her nose. The liquor had filled the empty spaces in her belly. "Here’s how it’s going to work, Syd. You’re not telling anyone what you saw tonight. And neither am I."

"What did I see?"

"Exactly." Callie cut her steak to give herself something to do. "And I’m not unlovable."

"You’re right. You’re Mrs. Lovely and I’m too drunk to enjoy this crap. Food has no joy anymore. Do you know that some tribes in Africa enjoy food during sex? They literally eat while they're fornicating because then all of the senses are involved and it's better." Sydney bit into her chicken, tears still coursing down her face. "Of course, I haven't had sex in over a year so if I tried to eat during it I'd choke to death. Do you want to walk back to the hospital and camp out with me tonight? You shouldn’t drive and I shouldn’t be alone. This is my cry for help."

"You’re not drunken lesbian are you?" Callie watched her with a raised brow. "Because I can’t handle that tonight. Or any night."

"I’m not a lesbian, drunk or sober. I’m just a miserable human being who wants another miserable human being to hang out for a while."

"I’m in," Callie replied, pushing her plate away.


They did two more shots before they headed across the road to the hospital.

Callie kicked off her shoes and climbed into the top bunk while Sydney took the bottom. She fleetingly thought that she’d need to leave tomorrow at lunch to make sure Fratelli, her ferret, had plenty of fresh food and water, and then the alcohol sent her into a deep, peaceful oblivion that she welcomed.

And vowed to do again as soon as possible.

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie wasn’t hungover. Not really. The headache was bearable, but she felt a million times better once she stole a toothbrush and paste from a welcome kit and showered. In the harsh light of day, her decision to drink felt like the worst thing she had ever done in her life. She was torn between confessing to Chief Webber and cutting out early to indulge again. She did neither. Instead, she dutifully headed to the morning meeting and leaned back against the wall with her eyes closed as Sydney rambled off the day’s agenda.

Callie spotted Alex as the meeting broke up and hurried from the room. Guilt prevented her from looking him in the eye ... looking anyone in the eye. She had made a horrible, horrible mistake. Addison waved at her from the end of the hallway and she rushed forward. "Addison, I need to -"

"The dresses are in today. What time are you getting off?"

"Uhm, six?" Callie replied. "Can we talk? I need -"

"I can’t right now." Addison shook her head. "I’m sorry. I’ve got to go do a consult."

"How about lunch?"

Addison made a face. "I can’t do that either. I’m going to be tasting the final menu at the caterer’s place. You - you can come if you want."

"Nah, it’s okay."

"Seeya later"

Instead of heading to the pit to look for a patient to help, Callie headed into the chapel and lit a candle. There were no prayers, however. She was beyond prayer, beyond divine intervention. Addison *had* to know that Alex had left her. Mark had been in the same surgery where Alex announced it and she hadn’t called, hadn’t asked. Callie had never felt so alone in her life.

Her cell phone trilled in her pocket and she pulled it out, checking the phone number. He knew. He always knew. "Hey, Cambyses."

Her brother breathed a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Don’t lie to me," Cam told her. "Any time I feel this way, my twin sister is either miserable or about to almost die."

"Maybe you have indigestion," she suggested. "It happens."

"Talk to me."

"I am talking to you."

"Where were you last night? I called your house until two in the morning. And I talked to Alex ... who wasn’t at your house, either."

"What did he say?" Callie asked curiously, trying to keep her tone light.

"He said that he hadn’t seen you. Why is that, Cal? Why would your *husband* not know where you are at two in the morning?"

Callie rubbed her eyes and lifted her legs into the pew. She fought hard not to cry, but it was no use. "He left me."

"WHAT!?"

"If you tell our parents ... I will kick your ass!"

"I can’t repeat it! It’s too traumatic for me to even think it!" Cam shot back. "What the hell happened!?"

Callie told him, omitting the part about the alcohol. "He overreacted, right?" she asked at the end of the tale.

"No, Cal, he didn’t. I’m sorry. You know I’m usually on your side, but having been in the stands when you do an air show, I know how it feels. And that’s with me having *months* to mentally prepare for it. It’s terrifying. You shouldn’t have kept it from him. Hell, I can’t marry Blake because of our homophobic government, but even *I* know that the most important part of marriage is communication. And honesty. Did he LEAVE leave?"

"He LEFT left. He took all of his clothes and left his ring."

"Where did you stay last night?"

"In the on call room."

"Why?" Cam asked suspiciously.

"Because, Cam, I’ve been married for *four* months and I’m already estranged! It’s a little hard to sleep in our house!"

"Are you okay? Do you need me to fly out?"

"No. To both."

"Do you want me to call him and threaten him?"

"No to that, too. He’s not George. He doesn’t take that crap seriously," Callie replied. "Listen, I should go. I have to go pretend to work before I get caught doing nothing."

"Can you call me tonight? I’m worried about you," Cam said. "We’ll all be there for Addy’s wedding, by the way. Even Stavros and Loukas are coming."

"Great. Now mom and dad will know that I can’t keep a husband and -"

"It’s a fight. He’s not gone for good. I’ll talk to you later?"

"I’ll call you. I promise."

"You better. Love you, Cal."

"Love ya back."

Callie closed the phone and pulled her knees up, leaning her forehead against them.

If anyone ever found out about the alcohol, there would be hell to pay. The previous year, she had purposely given herself alcohol poisoning and almost died. Her liver had held up well, too well, but after months of being fine, she was hospitalized for pancreatitis and a liver infection that had turned her bright yellow and kept her flat on her back for almost a week. Even now, she had to have her blood taken every two weeks to make sure her liver was functioning normally. And she had taken all the correct steps, gone to AA with Richard, earned her chips, and swore that she would never drink again ... and just like that ... she had blown it. After *one* stupid fight.

It terrified her to think about what could -

"Hey," Alex said, interrupting her thoughts. "Where did you go last night?"

She looked up at him. He was standing at the end of the pew with his arms over his chest and she shrugged. "Where did *you* go last night?"

"I’m staying on Goon Docks. With my mother. I went to the house after Cam woke me up and you weren’t there." He sat down on the end of the bench. "You fucked up the bedroom."

"You fucked up our life," she accused.

"No, no I didn’t. *You* fucked up our life." He watched her for a few seconds. "So, where were you?"

"Here."

"Here?"

"I slept in the on call room."

"Why?"

"Because I felt like it," she sighed. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to know where you were. Now I do." He pushed himself to his feet and turned away, then glanced back toward her. "I took the ferret last night. To the yacht. You didn’t bother feeding him. So much for your many talents."

"You’re living with your *mother*. So much for yours."

Without another word, Alex stormed out of the chapel.

Callie didn’t mention the alcohol to anyone.

She also didn’t go to AA, even though Chief Webber reminded her about the lunchtime meeting.

*~*~*~*~*

"What the hell is Montgomery thinking?" Cristina said, turning side to side in the mirror.

"Is it the color or the cut?" Meredith asked, stepping onto the platform beside Yang. She got a good look at herself and grimaced. "Never mind. It’s both."

Callie came out of her dressing room and lifted her skirt as she stepped up beside the other two women. Her maid of honor dress was moderately better, but it was still uncomfortable and far too chiffon for her liking. "We look like shit stains."

"We look like frappucinos. Caramel ones," Meredith corrected. "It’s weird enough to be a bridesmaid for my fiance’s ex-wife, I can’t do it looking like this. There are ruffles at my *throat*."

"And bows on our asses." Callie turned and examined her backside. "This sucks. I was very specific about ass bows."

Addison pushed open the curtain and clasped her hands together as she gazed at her wedding party. "You guys look AMAZING!"

"Don’t you usually wear glasses for the important stuff?" Cristina asked. "Cause here’s where you need them."

"You don’t like the dresses?" Addison asked, her face falling. "I’ve spent *weeks* finding the perfect ... you really hate it? You hate it!!"

"Oh Jesus," Callie said, rolling her eyes. "They’re fine. We love ‘em."

Cristina coughed and said, "Bullshit" as she did so.

"How can you hate Versace?!" Addison cried, reaching out to adjust the frilly bow on Callie’s ass. "It’s *Versace*."

"It’s a tent," Meredith said, pulling the sides of her dress out. "Now it looks like wings. Give me some wire and I can pretend to be Tinkerbell going down the aisle."

"Tinkerbell wore green. Not light shit," Cristina said.

"Damn it!" Addison sat down in a chair beside the entrance and put her face in her hands. She did it so that they couldn’t see the smile on her face and not because she was upset. A moment later, the store clerk breezed through the curtain with three black bags. She put one in each of the dressing rooms that had been vacated by the wedding party. When Addison looked up again, she was fighting hard not to laugh. She looked at Callie and said, "Thanks for comforting me, Maid of Honor."

Callie watched curiously as the clerk winked at Addison, then she put her hands on her hips. "You asshole! Those are the real dresses, right?"

She started to step off the platform, but Addison held up her hand. "Wait."

And then Mark appeared and started snapping photos that caused all three women to gather their hideous skirts and rush back into their rooms. When they emerged a few moments later, they were much happier and didn’t grumble at all about posing for photos. The dresses Addison had chosen were strapless, with trumpet skirts and a A-line cut. A dark brown sash fit around the waist and pinned in the back to create not a bow, but a gorgeous tie that hung almost the floor. It was definitely the kind of dress you could wear again.

"CALLIE!" Addison scolded as Callie adjusted the loose top of her dress. "What did I tell you? I said do not lose any weight. None."

With a grimace, Callie tried in vain to make her chest bigger. She stretched and pushed, but it was no use. Cristina poked her in the rib and said, "It was all that G-force against your tits in the airshow, right?"

"No." Callie shook her head. "It was all the exercise leading up to the air show so that my lungs could take it."

"I could strangle you," Addison replied, opening the curtain and calling for the clerk.

The two women pinned Callie’s dress and then took new measurements. By the time all was said and done, Addison had threatened Callie within an inch of her life. She was to lose no more weight or she’d be murdered, her friend promised. After she got dressed, Callie joined the other women. Addison and Meredith were both trying on veils, so Callie flopped down beside Cristina, who wore a matching look of disgust. "This sucks," Yang said softly. "As soon as we get Addison down the aisle, it’s Meredith’s turn."

"At least she’s waiting a while longer," Callie watched Addison twist her hair and gaze at the peacock inspired veil on her head. "Cristina?"

"Hmm?"

"She hasn’t even asked me about Alex."

"What’s there to ask? We all know." Cristina stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles. "And we all told you to tell him so maybe we’re a little pissed that you didn’t. And a lot pissed that you put us in a situation where he’s not just mad at you ... he’s mad at us, too."

"I didn’t think it would be this bad," Callie replied. "I thought he’d get upset and then get over it."

"Just like that?" Cristina asked. "You thought he'd ignore how easily you could been killed and-"

"Everything was fine! Everything! I was careful and -"

"Careful?" Cristina raised a skeptical brow. "Careful is flying from point A to point B in as much of a straight line as possible. Not careful? Rolling and flipping and going upside down from point A to point B."

"It was an *air show*. There is no point A to point B. If that was the case, you’d be bored. I’m a good pilot. I know what I’m doing."

"You’re a great pilot," Cristina agreed. "Maybe you should marry the air because neither one of you can be tamed. What’s that old saying? Wild as the wind? That’s you. You wanted the shackles, but you don’t want Alex to lock them. You wanted the ball and chain, but only when it’s convenient."

"That’s not true!"

"You know what you’re like? You’re this storm cloud that’s so calm and then bam! It’s like something happens inside you and you’re destructive. You don’t just self destruct, you throw a funnel cloud that quickly becomes a tornado and you spin out of control for a little while. And just like a tornado, you shake people up." Cristina glanced at her. "And you make storm chasers out of your friends who can’t stop you ... so we just watch."

"Cristina-"

"In the George mess ... I was Team Callie. In the Izzie mess ... I was Team Callie. Now? I’m Team Alex because I was on the ground beside him while you were playing Top Gun and I saw how it hit him." With that, Cristina got to her feet and the fact that she actually put a veil on proved that Callie’s company truly was the worst than *that*.

*~*~*~*~*~

The days leading up to Addy’s wedding were tense. Alex, who was still staying on Goon Docks, would either pick a fight or ignore Callie every time she was within earshot. Their friends would simply walk away when he chose to go for the jugular and say something horrible, which he did frequently. Callie finally talked to Sydney and went on night shift to avoid Alex completely. And Irene. Her mother in law attempted to talk to her every time she saw her and Callie was polite. She’d discuss the weather or the food that Irene churned out in the kitchen, but she refused to talk about Alex at all.

George and Izzie were also working the night rotation and they both went out of their way to be there for Callie. Izzie brought extra food every night for dinner and insisted that Callie share it and George made sure he told her a joke or tried to make her laugh every time he passed her in the hallway. Ever since Izzie had joined the Angry Woman Club, she had drifted more towards Callie than the other members. Callie knew that it was her way of making amends, of burying the hatchet, and she happily met the blond halfway, but she wasn’t close to her. She tolerated her. Izzie was still a symbol of her past and Callie wanted to forget her past. Still, she was grateful for the company as the nights seems to stretch for an eternity and Izzie’s sympathy appeared genuine.

Callie didn’t drink again. Sometimes, before her late shift started, she’d park in front of the liquor store and stare at the bottles, but she didn’t drink. Oh, she wanted to. She needed to, but she swallowed back the longing and always started her engine and headed back into the road empty handed. Callie worked on her off days and slept as long as she could during the day, thanks to a prescription of Ambien that Sydney gave her when Callie complained about having trouble adjusting to the night shift.

The day before Addison’s wedding, Callie was changing into her street clothes in the locker room when the morning crew came in. She sat in the corner, hidden by a row of lockers as she heard Alex laughing at something Meredith said. Addison, who usually dressed in the Attending’s lounge, sailed around the corner and glared at Callie. "Are you going to be there tomorrow or what?" Addison snapped.

"At the wedding?"

"At the wedding! You haven’t returned any of my phone calls. You didn’t pick your dress up and you didn’t come to the florist to help me pick the final arrangement for your bouquet like you promised, either. So, I’m asking. Are you going to be in the wedding or not?"

"Of course I am," Callie replied. "And - I don’t know where my phone is so I didn’t get your messages. And ... all my appointments were programmed in there so I - I forgot."

"I’m an appointment now?" Addy shook her head. "Tonight’s the bachelorette party. *Meredith* planned it because you weren’t around to do it and I just saw your name on the schedule to work tonight! How can you work all night and then be in the wedding party tomorrow!?"

"It’ll be fine."

"Callie, you haven’t done *anything* to help me lately. I never see you and -"

"Hello, night shift?" Callie got to her feet, glaring at her friend. "And you haven’t done anything to help me either."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I think you fuckin’ know!" Callie shouted.

"Guys!" Meredith said, moving between the two of them. "What the hell?"

Saying nothing, Addison turned on her very high heel and stalked out of the room. Callie snatched her purse from her locker, tears blurring her vision. She slammed the door so hard that it shook the entire row of lockers and then Meredith caught her arm before she could leave. "Are you okay?" Mer asked.

"Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Callie-"

But Callie walked away, past Cristina who said her name and past Alex, who said nothing at all.

She left a message for Sydney, telling her that she wouldn’t be in that night. She was supposed to be off anyway, she had simply volunteered to keep herself busy, to keep herself away from the ever present lure of alcohol, but she didn’t give a damn anymore.

Callie simply didn’t *care*.

*~*~*~*~*~

"I just don’t *get* her." Addison paced the length of the on call room and retrieved her skirt from the window ledge, where Mark had thrown it. She slipped it over her thong panties and zipped it, then slipped her feet into her heels.

"This is the part where we bask in the afterglow of morning sex, baby," Mark replied, watching her appreciatively as she slipped her bra on and fastened it. "It’s bad enough that you were thinking about Callie the entire time I was screwing you half to death ... can you -"

"I was not," she replied, smiling at him, "because I was too busy thinking about that thing you were doing with your fingers and hoping you do it again in Hawaii tomorrow night."

"Oh, I’m doing things to you in Hawaii that would make Jenna Jameson blush."

"Mmmm." She leaned down and kissed him, cupping his face. "I’m happy, Mark. I’m really, really happy that we’re getting married tomorrow and I’m even happier that we waited to do it. Because it’s going to be perfect."

Mark pulled her down on top of him and settled his hands on her hips. "It better be perfect. You’ve been a head case for months over this day."

Addison laughed. "I really have, haven’t I?"

"You gave new meaning to the word ‘shrew’. And you’ve proven that your temper matches your hair with the caterer, the limo driver, the DJ, the minister, and now your best friend."

"My *absent* best friend. She didn’t even show up for the rehearsal dinner."

"We didn’t have a rehearsal dinner," Mark replied. "We had a *dinner*."

"Still -"

"Addison, she’s going through hell. All you have to do is look at her to see that she’s miserable." He pushed her hair back and kissed her neck. "At the non-rehearsal dinner that Callie didn’t come to ... you guys made it very clear to Alex that he’s in the right and she’s wrong and you guys have no sympathy for her. She can probably pick up on that and that’s why she’s *absent*."

"And you think we’re wrong?"

"I think it’s been close to three weeks since the air show and Alex is treating her bad enough for everyone. I think that you need to remember that this is Callie we’re talking about. The same Callie who almost died from alcohol poisoning when her last marriage imploded. She hurts a little harder than most people and there’s pressure on her right now from all sides. So-"

"You don’t think she would ... Mark!"

"I don’t know," he replied, rubbing her back. "If history is doomed to repeat itself, though, I think she’s at the breaking point. I saw her before she left today. I tried to talk to her and she didn’t look right."

"I’ll call her." Addison grabbed her white lab coat from the floor and pulled her cell phone from the pocket. She dialed Callie’s number, then groaned when it went to voice mail. "Damn! She told me she can’t find her phone. Hey, Callie, it’s me. I’m an ass and I’m sorry."

"If she lost her phone, why did you leave a message?" Mark asked.

"Because it made me feel a little better."

Mark sat up and unbuttoned her shirt. "Let me make you feel a lot better. Because I’m sleeping at Derek’s tonight so I don’t see you tomorrow before the wedding and ... I need to make up for lost time now."

Addison kicked her shoes off again. "Why did you let me get dressed?"

"Your ass in a thong?"

Within minutes, Addy forgot all about her problems with Callie. She lost herself in her fiancé and didn’t think of anything except the moment.

*~*~*~*~
CH 2
*~*~*~*~

"Will this be all, ma’am?"

Callie looked at the bottle of bourbon that the woman behind the counter was ringing up. After sitting in front of the liquor store for five hours, waiting for it to open, Callie almost felt like the one bottle was a disappointment. She felt herself nod, then paid for it in cash, clutching the long neck in her hand as she headed back to her car. Callie laid it on the passenger seat, gripping the steering wheel as she gazed at the front of the store again. Her mouth had started to water and she kept swallowing, kept licking her lips. She wanted the burn, the oblivion.

The bottle wasn’t silent. It called to her, beckoned her, promised her that it could erase the pain, fill the emptiness, and make her feel better. Like a fool, she believed it could. At least for a while. She could black out and not hurt, not be angry, not be lonely. She needed to believe in something, after all, because there was nothing left to believe in as far as she could see.

Closing her eyes, she put her hands over her ears in an attempt to silence the hollow voice in her head that was begging her to drink. There were always big moments in life. Moments fill with crossroads and crosshairs. She felt like there was a target on her back and the bottle was the bullet that would rip through her center and demolish everything. With a look of determination, she picked the bourbon up and got out of the car, opening her trunk with the key fob. She tossed the bottle into it and slammed the, gazing down at her hand, which was shaking.

Her parents always told her that the past happened so you could learn from it. History books were full of fatal mistakes that were often repeated for the sake of growth and superiority. As Callie leaned against her car, she knew that she could either be superior or *inferior* to the sickness that she finally acknowledged with all of her heart. Alcoholism was a disease and an uphill climb and if this wasn't alcoholism, she didn't know what was. She had been on top of the mountain for over a year now and she was currently sliding toward the bottom again on her stomach, letting the roots and rocks and debris tear her apart. No, she realized, she had bottomed out when she drank with Sydney. Now she was being ripped apart by the need to do it again.

And she couldn’t let that happen.

Hurrying into her car, she started the engine, fastened her seatbelt, and headed across town. She parked at the end of a crowded lot and retrieved the bottle, then headed into the church where today’s AA meeting was being held. Chief Webber was enjoying a cucumber sandwich while he spoke with Marcel and he smiled when he saw her. The smile quickly faded when he saw the tell tale brown bag in her hand. The meeting had just adjourned for the day, but as always there were several small cloisters of people remaining to offer that last bit of comfort and support to their fellow warriors. Webber nudged Marcel, the leader of the group, and pointed at Callie. Wordlessly, Marcel strode forward and took the bag from her hand.

"Come with us," Marcel said softly, whispering the words against Callie’s ear.

She nodded and let the man lead her, and Chief Webber, into the church’s small kitchen. Chief Webber wrapped a protective arm around her as Marcel lifted the bottle from the bag and opened it. His movements weren’t angry, weren’t tense, but when he held the bottle out to her, his face was set. "Drink it or pour it down the sink."

"You - you can pour it - and -" Callie began.

"No," Marcel took a step closer to her, lifting the bottle high enough that she could smell it. "This is your fight, Callie. We can’t do it for you."

"Take it," Webber urged. "Make your decision."

Callie felt bereft with the Chief moved away from her, leaving her exposed, leaving her *alone*. She gripped the bottle with both hands, hoping that they would cross cancel each other and not shake quite so badly. She was wrong. Some of the bourbon slipped over her hand and she was tempted to lick it off, tempted to tip the bottle back in front of God and everybody. After all, she was in HIS house and HE was not making the battle any easier.

Her eyes strayed to the sink then back to the bottle in her hands. Tears streamed down her face as her gaze met Chief Webber’s. "I’ve fallen off the wagon already. Hard. I had gin and tonic and several shots of ... something ... and if I drink this now ... it won’t really matter because the damage is done. I’m back at square one and -"

"Still in the game," Richard said, not letting any disappointment show on his face. "You’re back at square one, but you’re not off the board. You’re here. You made a bad decision when you drank again, but you made a right one now. Pour it out, Callie."

"Richard." Marcel shook his head, his floppy blond hair falling into his eyes. "Don’t sway her." Looking at Callie, he added, "The choice is yours."

She thought of Alex. She thought of the way her wedding band felt as it clanked against the bottle and imagined the look on her husband’s face if he could see her now. Then she thought of Cam, of her parents, of Addison ... and her decision was made. Her shoulders shook from the quiet sobs as she walked to the sink and tipped the bottle, watching the contents disappear down the drain. She held onto it until the last drop was gone, then she slipped it back into the brown bag and buried her face in her hands.

It was Webber who comforted her. He pulled her against his chest and spoke softly, telling her he was proud of her, that she was strong and *okay*. While the Chief clung to her, Marcel went into the other room and prepared a plate of food, then retrieved a bottle of water from the cooler. Back in the kitchen, he set it on the island, pulled out a barstool and looked at Callie. "Sit. Eat. Talk."

She did sit down. She mostly picked at the food, but she talked for close to an hour and it made all the difference in the world. Neither man judged her or interjected much, but that was okay, because neither left her hanging and neither told her off for her mistakes. They simply nodded and they *understood*.

Two hours later, she pulled on rubber wading boots and stared down at them. Richard handed her a fishing rod and the container of worms, which he offered to handle for her, but she shook her head, pulled out the plumpest, and put it on the hook. He was so impressed with her casting abilities that he watched her in silence for a few moments. "Did your father take you fishing?"

"My dad? Fishing? Not so much." Callie waded further into the river and turned her face toward the sky as a hawk flew overhead. "My *mother* took me fishing."

"Your mother is an impressive woman." Richard cast his own line and smiled at her. "You’re the spitting image of her. And just as strong."

"I don’t feel very strong," Callie replied. "My marriage is -"

"Don’t." Webber shook his head. "I happen to know for a fact that Alex misses you."

"Oh, how do you that?"

"Because he told me. This is off the record, Callie. Totally and completely off the record. I had to write him up a couple of days ago for getting in a patient’s face. I asked him what the hell was going on with him and he told me about you flying and about him leaving and he said that he misses you. He said that he wants to come home, but ... his pride keeps getting in the way."

"He said that?"

"I bet if you apologized ... everything would be just fine." He smiled at her. "Now, can you tell me something off the record?"

"Sure," she replied.

"Sydney Heron. How’s she doing?"

"The job or personally?"

"Both."

"She’s rocking the job. She’s got the schedules under control and she’s flexible and fair." Callie gazed out at the horizon, where the crisp fall air, even at three in the afternoon, had left a mist over the treeline. "Personally? I think maybe you should bring her along to an AA meeting."

"I’m certain I smelled alcohol on her breath the other day."

"I’m certain you did, too."

"And you didn’t feel I should know this before now?" he asked.

"I’m not that girl. I don’t tattle to Big Daddy. Everyone knows that I was in the running for Chief Resident and if something goes down ... I don’t want it to be because of me. I don’t want anyone thinking I tried to sabotage her." She shrugged. "But I think she’s ready to pass the title and the duties along to Bailey."

"Bailey? What makes you think I’d choose Bailey?"

"Well, I don’t want it." Callie shook her head vehemently. "I’m a newlywed and a mess. I only tossed my hat in the ring because I could. It’s Bailey’s job, Chief. She deserves it and she’s waited patiently for it."

"Dr. Bailey has a son. If I give this position to her then it will put her under the same strain that Dr. Heron is currently under. Miranda would be at the hospital from sun up until sun down and -"

"Then don’t count on one person to do it. Spread it out. Take half the responsibility from Sydney, give it to Bailey, and let them be joint Chiefs. If it works for the military ... it should work for them. You could even go a step further and choose a couple of second years to assume some of the lighter duties, too. You know people like Yang and Stevens would be all over that. O’Malley, too. He’s very organized." She reeled in her line and cast again. "You once told me that you started drinking while you were Chief Resident. Knowing what you know now ... it may be a good time to change how it’s done."

"A person with this much wisdom, Callie," he replied, "has nothing to worry about when it comes to addiction. You’re going to beat this disease and you’re going to be just fine."

"I don’t think Marcel was very happy about you deciding to be my sponsor."

"They usually like for a sponsor to be the same sex as the person they’ll be mentoring. They also don’t like for them to work together or see each other every day, but I think you need it. I think you need someone who can stay on top of it and be there any time you need them. And that’s me. I’m here."

"Thanks, Chief."

"I think you can call me Richard, Callie."

"Richard," Callie replied, grinning as she tugged her line. "I just caught the first fish of the day. So you’re cleaning it *and* cooking it."

"I shouldn’t have made that bet. I didn’t know you were so ... resourceful."

"You underestimated me because I’m a girl. Don’t do it again."

"Yes, ma’am."

*~*~*~*~*~

"YAY!" Addison cried, looking up from her fifth shot as Callie walked into Joe’s. It wasn’t much of a bachelorette party. Addy had a birthday hat on her head and the groom and his groomsmen were a few feet away playing darts, but the second she saw Callie, Addison felt festive and *happy*. She pulled her best friend into a tight hug, sloppily kissing her cheek. "I AM SO SORRY! I’M A SELF INVOLVED ASSHOLE AND YOU HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE PISSED AT ME!"

Callie didn’t have to wonder why Addison was yelling. Olivia, like always, was singing karaoke. This time, she was warbling her way through Mandy Moore’s ‘Candy’. Callie grimaced and let Meredith put a birthday cone on her head as she slipped her jacket off. Meredith catcalled and drunkenly poked Callie’s exposed cleavage. The black sleeveless shirt she wore tied behind her neck and plunged dangerously low between her breasts, where a triangle of sequins and faux diamonds drew all the attention. Her jeans were new, too, bought after the fishing trip with Webber because she wanted *something* to keep her mind busy and shopping usually did.

"Damn, woman," Cristina called. "We thought we weren’t getting strippers tonight."

"What have you been doing today?" Addison asked as Callie pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Fishing."

"Huh?"

"Fishing. Like, rods and reels and worms."

"Why? Ew." Addison wrinkled her nose.

"Why not?"

Burke sauntered over and picked up his beer, taking a swig. He greeted Callie warmly, then tipped Cristina’s chair back and asked for a good luck kiss. He had fifty bucks riding on the dart game, he explained. Cristina gave him a kiss that was both tawdry and brazen, then grinned when he sat her back up. "That is *so* Mark’s move," Addison told Yang as they watched Burke strut back to the game. "He did that same thing to me."

"Alex pioneered it," Izzie said, then seemed to catch herself and changed the subject fast by pointing at the door. "I - uh - are those strippers?"

Four men had come into the Emerald City Bar. All four wore trenchcoats and the tallest smiled at Callie, who pointed at Addison. "Consider them my party favors," Callie told her friend, who was staring at the approaching men with her jaw hanging open. Lifting her purse, Callie pulled out several stacks of dollar bills and one stack of twenties, which she pressed into Addison’s hand. "Just wait. Your mind will be blown."

Olivia had stopped singing now thanks to Joe, who had unplugged the karaoke machine and silenced the bar entirely. The bartender was salivating almost as much as the women. One of the strippers carried a boombox that he set on the table behind Addison. He pressed play and flicked his tongue out at her, offering her the tie to his robe, but Addison didn’t take it. She was still perpetually frozen in shock like a deer in headlights.

‘It’s Raining Men’ began to pulsate from the radio and Callie reached forward, tugging the belt for Addison, who gasped as the man let the coat fall to the ground, revealing just how well he filled the elephant trunk thong he wore. The dancers called themselves ‘The Skin Quartet’ and as they all dropped their jackets, no one had to wonder why. Never had there been so much exposed, buffed, and *perfect* skin in one spot. And dance? The men could dance like there was no tomorrow. The choreographed moves were as much Cirque du Soleil as trashy hip hop video. They did lifts, tumbles, and pelvic thrusts that caused their packages to bounce around so much that Cristina declared that she had gotten dizzy watching it.

Four songs later, their g-strings were full and Addison was dancing between them, laughing her ass off. Callie headed to the bar and fixed herself a glass of ice water when Joe decided to join the dancers. She sat down on a barstool and pulled out her camera, snapping a few photos because if she didn’t do something with her hands ... she was afraid her next drink would be something bottled and eighty proof. She was smiling when she noticed Alex heading her way. The smile faded and she started to get to her feet, but he caught her arm. "Hey," he said, his thumb absently rubbing her skin. "H- how are you?"

"Fine." She didn’t meet his gaze, instead she concentrated on the water in her hands. "You?"

"I’m okay." He sat down on the stool beside hers and watched her, waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he let her arm go, then touched it again when she yawned. "You hate the night shift. Dr. Heron said you requested it."

Still yawning, she nodded. "Yeah. I did."

"Why?"

"You didn’t just ask me why, Alex. Really?" She pointed at the beer in his hand. "Have you had so much that you can’t remember telling me the other day that the sight of me made you sick? Or how about when you said that Mark should think twice before getting married because marriage turns sane women into insane bitches who suck the life out of their husbands? Maybe the high point was you saying, in front of everyone, that I was a childish liar who wouldn't know the truth if it smacked me in the face."

He moved his hand off her arm and peeled the label on his beer. "I’m sorry."

"There’s a lot of that going around." She glanced at him, smiling sadly when he met her eyes.

Alex hated the coldness in her eyes. He'd never seen it before. "I talked to Cam today. He said he’s worried about you and that he had talked to you and you didn’t sound right."

"How right can I sound?"

"Callie-"

"You know what? I’m not going to fight with you today. I lied to you about the air show, but you lied to me too. Christmas night last year ... you lied to me. When you asked me to marry you, you said that the butterfly in my ring was there to remind me that I could fly ... and you’d never try to hold me down. You said that the circle meant that we’d never end ... but you had no problem taking your ring off and ending it."

"I was pissed. And if you had told me about the air show and let me have a chance to get used to the idea ... maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad."

"Yeah, it would have. You’re always going to be that guy who’s afraid to jump ... and I’m always going to be the girl who volunteers to do it first." She got to her feet, leaving the water and a five dollar bill on the bar. She looked at him again, briefly, and nodded. "Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow."

Addison did another shot, this one poured by one of the strippers. She looked up in time to see Callie gather her purse and jacket, then jumped to her feet and followed her out the front door. "You’re leaving?"

"I’m tired," Callie replied, hugging her. "I haven’t been to sleep yet so I’m off to dream about falling on my face or something when I walk down the aisle tomorrow."

"As long as you *only* dream it and don’t actually do it." Addison held onto her, not letting her go. "I love you, you know? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I just really love you."

"You’re going to be very sad that you got so damn drunk tonight when you wake up tomorrow, Addy." Callie stepped back and squeezed her hand. "Have fun."

"Wait."

Callie looked at her. "What is it?"

"You’re okay, right? I mean ... you’re not -"

"No. I’m not suicidal again."

"If you need me -"

"Go enjoy your party. Tomorrow's you big day."

Addison watched her walk away, a sense of foreboding in her stomach that she couldn’t quite explain. She remained rooted to the spot until Mark joined her and they both waved at Callie as she drove around the building and pointed her car toward home.

Mark wrapped his arms around her when she shivered. "Alex said he tried to apologize ... tried to make amends or whatever ... but she shot him down."

"Something’s wrong with her," Addison said. "I’m scared."

"Her family will be here in the morning. You know Melana and Raphael will smack the shit out of both of them and fix it themselves."

"I hope you’re right."

*~*~*~*~*~

Melana Torres was frazzled after attempting to sleep through enough turbulence to wake the dead the previous night. Their private jet had weathered the storm beautifully, but she was no so fortunate. The bags under her eyes were deep enough for Gucci, her service monkey, to fit in and worrisome enough to her husband Raphael that he kept running his thumb over them. She finally threatened to swat him like an annoying gnat and he had kept his hands to himself since them.

Instead of going straight to the guest room at Callie’s house, Melana headed into the kitchen to whip up breakfast for her family. Her sons, who were in various displays of laziness on the sofa and floor of the living room, were quickly sent scurrying to the market when she saw that Callie’s cupboard was bare and she marched down the hallway to her daughter’s bedroom with her hands on her hips.

Callie was lying sideways in the bed, both bare feet sticking out from one end of the cover and her hands out the other. Melana smiled and covered her feet, which were cold to the touch, then squatted down beside her hands and took one in her own. "Calliope?"

"Mmmph."

"Wake up and explain why you have no groceries."

"Mom!" Callie’s head shot up and she scrambled from the bed, knocking Melana flat on her ass as she hugged her.

Melana laughed and held onto her daughter, rubbing her hair, her face. "How are you, mi vida?"

"Alex left me," Callie said in response, then clapped a hand over her mouth as the smile faded from Melana’s face.

"Can you repeat that?"

"No. Because I'm sleepwalking. And sleeptalking, apparently."

"Calliope."

"I didn’t mean to just blurt it out." Callie got to her feet and extended her hands, pulling her mother to her own. "He’s been gone for about three weeks."

"Gone where?" Mel cried. "For Heaven’s sake, Calliope, you’ve only been married a few months! What could you possibly have done -"

"Oh, it’s my fault! Of course it is! Blame me for everything!" Callie sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Maybe it’s him!"

"Is it?" Mel asked, sitting beside her.

Callie shook her head. "Not *entirely*."

"Good morning, Mija," Raphael said, strolling into the bedroom and kissing Callie. He tilted her face and kissed her forehead, then frowned. "What’s wrong?"

"Alex has left her," Mel told him. "And she was just about to tell me what she did to cause it."

"What she did?" Raphael snapped. "Maybe it’s him! Maybe he-"

"Must you *always* take her side," Mel asked, rolling her eyes. "You’d think she was incapable of erring."

"Must you *always* assume the worst?" Raphael shot back. "You’d think she’s was incapable of doing anything right."

"Considering that she is half yours, I’m quite certain that she is just as capable as her father of making a total mess out of everything she touches." Mel glared at her husband. "You don’t want to piss me off again, Raph. Not today."

Callie looked back and forth between her parents. "What’s going on?"

"Minor disagreement." Raphael sat down on Callie’s other side and took her hand. "That’s all. We’re-"

"MINOR DISAGREEMENT!?" Melana bellowed, causing both her husband and her daughter to jump. "MINOR!? DON’T YOU DARE IMPLY THAT MY FEELINGS ARE MINOR!"

"DON’T YOU DARE IMPLY THAT IT’S ANYTHING MORE THAN THAT!" Raphael shot back.

"YOU ARE TRYING TO COME OUT OF RETIREMENT!"

"I MOST CERTAINLY AM NOT! I AM LENDING A HAND WHERE I’M NEEDED!"

"IT IS NOT YOUR HAND THAT CONCERNS ME, RAPHAEL!"

"STOP!" Callie yelled. She looked at her father and said, "They want you back in the -"

"Not back, baby," Raphael assured her. "They want me to go to Iraq and interrogate someone who they believe is involved with bin Laden and can give up the goods on his whereabouts."

"Which is a fancy way of saying that our government wants you to go to Iraq and torture someone." Callie looked at her mother, who nodded, then back at her father. "I don’t want you to go, either."

"Callie-"

"Daddy, that’s a warzone. Do you - they behead people over there! That’s like ... begging to be murdered! And you’re not a young man anymore. You can’t outrun an angry mob or fight off some crazy religious assholes who think of you as an infidel."

"Which is precisely the point that I made," Melana said, still glaring at her husband. "You *promised* me it was over, Raph, that you were done."

Raphael simply shook his head and squeezed Callie’s hand. "Why did Alex leave you, kitten?"

Callie told them and waited expectantly for them to agree with her. Melana, who looked as if holding her tongue was killing her, shot to her feet and stalked out of the room at the end of the tale. Raphael put an arm around Callie and pulled her against him. "That same thing that drives you to do an air show is what drives me to take down terrorists."

"It’s not the same thing, Daddy."

"You don’t think there’s just as much risk when you fly as there is of a ... crazy religious asshole ... who -"

"I’m trained to fly."

"I’m trained to fight. No matter how old I am." Raphael kissed her temple. "We’re both in the same boat, Mija. Flying is in your blood and fighting is in mine. We crave the adrenaline rush."

Callie sighed. "So, what do we do?"

"Did I ever tell you about the time I got shot?"

With a gasp, Callie’s spine straightened and she gazed at him in shock. "No."

"It’s why I retired. Your mother was seven months pregnant with Stavros. I was on an assignment in Germany and wound up getting most of my butt blown off." He smiled at her. "It was so bad that I spent weeks lying on my stomach while cute nurses kept the wound clean and put fresh bandages on."

Callie chuckled. "That sounds like hell."

"It wasn’t hell until your mom got there. I had been away from her for five months so I didn’t even know she was pregnant. It’s not like it is now. There was no email, no text messaging, and I was so far undercover that she didn’t know how to get in touch with me most of the time. She waddled into the infirmary, big as a barrel, and she was so pretty that I couldn’t stop looking at her. You know that look she gets right before she uses words like a whip."

Callie made a face and Raphael laughed. "Yeah, that’s the one. God, you’re so much like her. Anyway, she came up to the bed and she had her hands on that round, pregnant belly and she asked me if I was in any pain. I told her no. Wrong answer. She went *off* on me and made it very plain to me that for the two years we had been married she had been strong and let me go undercover. She said she had watched television through her hands every time news broke of something happening that had casualties anywhere in the world because she was afraid it was me.

"And then she pointed at the baby and said that she couldn’t let our baby grow up wondering the same thing. She told me I had a choice to make. I could stay in the line of work I was in and say goodbye to my family or I could come home and start a business and have the white picket fence." He took a deep breath and smiled at his daughter. "I chose home. And I’ve never regretted it because your mother rewarded me with four of the best children God ever put souls in and I never looked back."

"Until now?" Callie leaned her head against his shoulder again. "Because Mom was right. Those four kids don’t want to watch the television through their hands either, Daddy. Don’t go."

Raphael kissed the top of her head. "I wonder ... do you think Alex watched the air show that way? I certainly have, while you performed. I’ve actually gotten up and walked away in the middle of it because it scared me that bad. And that’s with me knowing what to expect ahead of time."

When Callie didn’t reply, Raphael pulled her a little closer. "I guess I won’t go, princess. As good as it would make this old daredevil feel to get back in the saddle ... I did make a promise to your mother. And I guess there comes a time when a person has to settle down and hang up their guns ... or wings. And the adrenaline rush ... well, I still get the best ones when she smiles at me."

Callie closed her eyes and Alex flitted through her mind. He gave her an adrenaline rush, too. When he smiled, when he laughed, when he said her name. "I have to grow up," she finally said. "I have to stop looking for cheap thrills and realize that the most thrilling thing in the world is that someone wants me. He wants forever. Or ... he did."

Melana sailed back into the room and waltzed around the bed, looking like she could bite a nail in two. "If you two have finished conspiring to give me a heart attack, breakfast will be ready soon and it would be very nice to have the family together for as long as we can ... you know ... until one of us heads into mortal danger and -"

"I’m not going," Raphael replied. "I’ll tell the officials after breakfast, Mel."

"You’re not going?" Mel wiped her hands on the apron she wore, her eyes wide. "Really?"

Getting to his feet, Raph nodded. "Really."

"OH! Thank God!" Melana threw her arms around her husband, unable to contain the tears of joy. She sobbed against his shoulder and said nothing else as Callie got to her feet and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. In a low, conspiratorial voice, Mel said, "She bought it?"

"Hook, line, and sinker. You should have been an actress," Raphael replied, kissing his wife’s neck. "I did tell her the truth about the way you forced me to retire, though."

"I could kick you in the ass every single time I see that scar."

Raphael puffed up importantly. "I told her it was a gun that did it."

"A gun?" Mel scoffed. "You should have told her the truth! You dropped your pants to use the bathroom and a rattlesnake took offense."

He simply looked at her. "That didn’t sound as dangerous."

"If she had seen the state your ass was in ... she’d think the snake was worse than a gun."

"What matters, dear," Raphael said through gritted teeth. "Is that our precious daughter has had an epiphany this morning. The words ‘I need to grow up’ actually escaped her mouth. Did you invite Alex and Irene to breakfast?"

"They’re already here. And no one knows that Addison already told us everything."

"Did you give Alex the speech about accepting my career because it was such a part of me?"

"He had an epiphany, too, my love." Melana grinned triumphantly. "The words ‘I really shouldn’t try to change her’ actually escaped his mouth."

"Let’s go eat."

"Calliope," Mel called. "Please put on something a little more suitable for breakfast."

"I will," Callie replied, her voice breaking over the words.

"She’s upset." Raphael started toward the door, but Mel stopped him.

"Go tell Alex. He’s out front with the boys."

A moment later, Alex walked past Melana in the hallway, who crossed her arms over her chest in a last minute bid to intimidate him. He headed into the bedroom, pausing to touch the photo he had ripped. It was lying, frameless, on the end table and Callie had taped the back of it. His ring wasn’t there, however, and he instinctively rubbed his left finger, which still had a tan line, though the indentation had already faded. He heard her sniffle behind the door and knocked lightly. "Open the door, Gothika."

"Just a second."

Alex tried the knob and found it unlocked. He stepped inside and saw her sitting on the edge of the tub with her face in her hands. His heart broke a little more, which he thought was impossible after watching her walk away the previous night. Wordlessly, he kneeled down and hugged her, then breathed a sigh of relief when she hugged him back, burying her face against his neck. "It’s okay, baby."

"No, it’s not," she sobbed, clinging to him. "You were right. I’m an idiot."

"You’re not an idiot. And I did promise you that I wouldn’t try to stop you from flying. I knew exactly who you were when I married you, Cal, and I wouldn’t change you if I could." He leaned back and kissed her forehead. "That lack of a fear gene thing? It’s sexy as hell."

"I miss you."

"God, I miss you, too." He rubbed his hand over her cheek. "I wanted to tell you all this last night. I wanted to apologize and make it right, but ... Callie, it was like you looked right through me and I know - I know I deserve it, but I don’t think I can handle you ever looking at me like that again."

"I don’t think I can handle you leaving me again. I believed you, you know, when you said you’d never do that. This is the third time now that you’ve broken your promise and packed your things and *left*. That’s worse than what I did."

"It is worse," he replied. "For both of us. And I won’t do it again, Callie. I won’t. I swear to God, if you’ll let me come home ... you’ll need a crowbar or something to get me out of here."

"I didn’t buy the stunt plane," Callie told him. "And - and I’m gonna sell the jet. We can fly commercial and -"

"Absolutely not," he replied. "You were born to fly and I was born to love you while you do it. Just ... tell me ... from now on."

"Okay," she hugged him again. "One more thing, Alex."

"What?"

"The things you said to me," she began.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Any of it."

"I know. I know you said it in anger, but it hurt." Callie gazed into his eyes. "I’d rather you hit me. Bruises ... they go away."

"No, baby, they don’t." He swiped at a tear that dropped onto his cheek and kissed her. Nothing else on earth could have ripped his heart in two any faster than those words. "I told you I’d never hurt you and I meant it."

"But you did."

"If you give me another chance -"

Leaning down, she silenced him with a kiss. "Come home. I want you to come home."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She pushed herself to her feet and held out her hand, pulling him to his. "I guess we should -"

"Where’s my ring?"

She studied him. "It’s somewhere safe."

"Well, give it back."

"I don’t know." Fighting hard not to laugh at the expression on his face, she hastily added, "I mean ... a guy that just takes it off and doesn’t value it ... why would I -"

"Callie-" The warning in his voice was unmistakable.

"If you can find it, you can have it."

"Find it?"

She nodded and he quickly walked back into their bedroom, opening the Italian jewelry box he had purchased for her on their honeymoon. "Cold," she said, leaning against the door jamb.

Alex moved to his end table and pulled open the drawer.

"Colder."

Smiling now, he opened his closet door and looked at her. She shook her head and he walked to where she stood. "Can I have a hint?"

"Hot."

He glanced down at the tank top she wore, noting the slight bulge between her breasts. He reached up and pulled the chain out, looking into her eyes after he saw his ring resting beside the diamond that Cam had given her for Christmas the previous year. It touched him, seeing it there, knowing that she had kept it next to her heart. Wordlessly, he put his hand behind her head and kissed her. A second later, she opened the clasp on the back of the chain and let the ring drop into his palm.

It was warm and he started to slip it on, but she shook her head, taking it back.

And just like she had done nearly five months ago, she slid it onto his finger and smiled at him through tears.

And just like he had done almost five months ago ... Alex fell a little harder than he ever thought he could.

Crushing her mouth with his, he felt her hands go to his belt and he did his best to help her without pulling away. She was raking her nails under his shirt when Melana knocked on the door. "Oh, children? Did I or did I not say that breakfast was ready?"

"Fuck," Callie said, looking heavenward. "Perfect timing as usual, Mother!"

"You know it. Now get your asses downstairs before I lose *my* temper. We have a wedding to get to!"

"Hold that thought," Callie said to Alex, handing him his belt. "Maybe we can do it in the *cemetery*."

Melana shrieked in the other room. "I heard that, you blasphemous heathen! Dear God in Heaven, please don’t smite her when she’s finally *growing up*."

*~

After a huge breakfast that Irene and Melana prepared together, Callie headed to the shower and dressed in sweats for the ride to the church. Alex had left the moment he had finished eating, saying that he needed to go help Mark and he had pulled Callie into the garage to ask her if everything really was okay between them. She assured him it was, kissed him goodbye, and then drove her mother toward the church in time to get a frantic call from Addison, telling her that she had already washed her hair twice and was so hungover she needed Tylenol. Callie dutifully stopped at the store for it and tried to warn her mother that Addison Montgomery had become Addison the Witch. Bridezilla, indeed.

Melana was skeptical that the red head could be *that* bad until they walked into the bridal suite of the church and found Addison lying face down on the floor sobbing her eyes out. "I lost my *last* contact," she wailed when she saw Callie.

Callie scanned the floor, then bent over and picked up the contact, which was actually stuck to the back of her friend’s hand. "Tylenol, water, and chocolate. My work is done."

Addison leaped to her feet to hug Callie, but she tripped over her wedding shoes, which been left in the middle of the floor and landed on her knees just shy of Callie. "I hate my life!"

Callie was helping the other woman stand when Addison realized Melana was there. She screamed and darted forward, catching the hem of her flounce slip underfoot. There was the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing and Addison stopped moving at all. She stared at Melana with tears in her eyes. "This is why I wanted to elope. Look at my hair. Look at me!"

Melana hugged Addison close, rubbing her back, which was bare since Addy only had on her slip, bra, and stockings. "Sit down, sweetheart." Leading her surrogate daughter to the bed, Melana opened her purse. "I can fix it."

"Really?" Addison stared, wide eyed, as Melana pulled a small sewing compact from her purse. As Melana lifted the torn hem into her lap, Addy burst into full blow hysterics.

Callie shot her mother a knowing look. "What’s wrong now, Ads?"

"I can’t get married," Addison wailed. "After marriage comes kids and I don’t know how to sew. Or cook. Or *anything*."

Melana threaded the needle swiftly, despite her perfectly manicured nails. "You learn those things as you go, honey. I was seventeen years old when I married Raphael and nineteen when we had Stavros. It’s true what they say ... instinct kicks in and you just *know*."

Addison wiped her eyes, sniffling. "I’m a wreck."

"Everyone’s a wreck on their wedding day." Mel told her. "It’s a requirement."

"Callie wasn’t." Addy eyed her best friend, who was lounging comfortably while she watched their exchange.

Mel snorted. "That’s because all she had to do was show up. I already had it planned. She had no stress."

"Wrong," Callie corrected, unwrapping a Hershey bar and breaking off a piece. "I was just so used to stress by that point, you know, from almost dying, then almost dying again and getting divorced and engaged and ... happy ... that nothing could possibly bother me anymore."

"How are you today?" Addison asked, holding her hand out for one of the squares.

Callie obliged, sharing her candy, then shrugged. "I’m good."

"Have you talked to Alex? He was going to go after you last night, but we wouldn’t let him drive."

"I did talk to him," Callie replied, narrowing her eyes at her mother. "But *only* talked. It would have been more, but my mother seems to sense when nakedness is afoot and puts a stop to it."

"You make up with your words, not your body," Mel replied, rapidly sewing. "Unless you have no guests in your house. Which you do."

"Wait," Addison cried. "You’re back together?"

"He’s wearing his ring. So... I hope."

Without thinking, Addy hurled herself toward Callie, hugging her.

The hole in the slip doubled in size.

Melana pulled a huge needle from her case and beckoned Addison, showing it to her. "Move again ... and I’m sticking this through your bony ass multiple times."

"Damn," Addison said, stunned. "Tough love."

"I prefer to call it child abuse," Melana replied, setting to work once again on the slip. "If you’re going to be my daughter ... you may as well act like one of the other kids and accuse me of cruelty."

*~*~*~*~

"And then you made up?" Mark said, trying to force the collar of his shirt down over his tie.

Alex nodded in response, toying with his ring.

Derek yanked his own tie off and started over. "Then why do you look like your dog just died?"

"Because it was too easy," Alex replied. "Way too easy. She didn’t really fight with me. She said ‘come home’. Just like that."

"And you want to complain?" Burke asked, already dressed and reclining on the sofa with a book in his lap. "Because it’s *easy*?"

"I know her." Alex took a deep breath. "I know her better than I know myself. She’s either done something that she’s guilty about or she’s *going* to do something and she’s -"

"Maybe it’s leftover guilt from the airshow." Finally wrangling his shirt into place, Mark smiled as his reflection. "I could be the GQ Man of the Year. I look *good*."

"You and Addison," Derek said, shaking his head as he pretended to wad his tie up and throw it across the room. "That much ego under one roof. God help us if you have kids."

Taking pity on his friend, Mark took charge himself and quickly made the perfect bow under Derek’s chin. They had decided that Alex would take over as Best Man instead of Derek. Derek didn’t feel comfortable doing the honors because Addison was the bride and because Callie was the Maid of Honor, he felt like Alex should be paired with his wife. Alex had been stunned when Mark asked him, but he agreed without hesitation. With Derek’s attire complete, Mark looked at Alex and said, "Count your blessings, man, she could still withhold sex as punishment."

"Yeah, that’s what she’ll do," Derek agreed. "It’s their Angry Woman Club thing. I think it’s at the top of their ‘How To Punish Men’ list."

Alex grinned a little. "We *tried* this morning, but Melana put an end to that quick, fast, and in a hurry."

"Gorgeous woman," Burke said, putting his book aside. "You’re a lucky man, Alex, because if Callie ages that well ... wow."

"She is pretty cool." Mark nodded. "Although I think she broke my rib when she caught me trying to talk to Addison through the door earlier."

Laughing now, Alex told them about his own wedding day, when Melana had not only caught him sneaking toward Callie’s bedroom before the ceremony, but found the naked Polaroid of Callie that he was on his way to thank her for. Melana had snatched the photo, glared at it, then him, then handed it back to him, turned him in the other direction, and kicked ... actually *kicked* him in the seat of the pants. Then kissed him on the cheek and told him that waiting made everything sweeter.

Mark agreed. "This long engagement has killed me, but I wouldn’t change it. Cause here we are."

Someone rapped heavily on the door and Derek opened it, revealing Raphael, who was smiling from ear to ear. "It’s nearly time," he told Mark. "Are you nervous?"

"Nervous? No. Close to puking? Yes."

Raphael walked into the room and put his hand on the taller man’s shoulder. "This will be the fastest day of you life. You’ll look back in twenty years and wonder what you said, what you listened to at the reception, but you will never, ever forget the way she looks when she says ‘I do’. Because in that moment ... she’s promising you everything and you will feel your life change the second you hear the truth in her voice."

Mark said nothing. He couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat. Instead, he embraced Mr. Torres and nodded.

Raphael turned and looked at Alex. "Can I speak to you for a moment, son?"

"Yes, sir." Alex followed him into the hallway, feeling more apprehension than he would have liked.

"I didn’t get a chance to inquire," Raph said softly, the gravel in his voice more pronounced when he tried to keep it low. "Are you and Callie on the road to recovery?"

"I think so."

"You think? You don’t know?"

"She usually makes me grovel a little more than she did today ... for a lot less." Alex rubbed a hand over his face. "I want it to be fine, Raphael. I need it to be fine, but -"

"What I said to Mark goes for you, too," Raphael told him. "Remember what she said to you on your wedding day. And look at her today, really look at her. She’ll let you know with her eyes if it’s okay."

Alex nodded at him. "Yes, sir."

"For the love of all things holy, son, haven’t I told you to stop calling me ‘sir’. You’re making me feel old and -"

"Respected?"

Raphael smirked at him. "I command respect without even trying." He leaned a little closer to his son in law. "And actions speak louder than words. Just ask the many men who showed me respect when I ripped out their tongues. They couldn’t call me ‘sir’, but I had no doubt they wanted to."

"I knew it!" Alex said. "You *are* a mobster! Or a gangster!"

"A gentleman never tells," Raph replied, smiling at him. "I will say, though, that old habits die hard. So fix it, Alex. Or I will."

"Did you just throw down the gauntlet?" Alex asked, grinning. "I distinctly heard a gauntlet."

"And you’re not intimidated at all." Raph chuckled. "Which is why I like you."
Ch 3
*~*~*~*~*~

Addison Forbes Montgomery legally became an orphan at fifteen. Her parents had been vacationing in Australia when they lost control of their rental car and flipped over an embankment. She was at home in New York at the time with the maid when the call came in. Addison took it well. She had been an unofficial orphan since birth. Truth be told, she took a little comfort in knowing that her parents would *never* be back ... as opposed to them coming and going like the tide. At least the finality of death kept her from wondering if they’d be there for her band concert. Or at all.

She didn’t cry at the funeral. She didn’t shed a single tear when her aunt and uncle moved into Montgomery Manor and renovated the house, tearing down walls and putting up new ones. They rarely spoke to Addison and she didn’t mind in the least. They gave her plenty of money and didn’t bother asking her why she was out all night or who she was with. She never glimpsed a real family until Derek took her home with him for Thanksgiving after they had been together for a year. Sitting in the Shepherd living room while Mrs. Shepherd showed her photos of Derek as a naked baby and Mr. Shepherd insisted on letting her choose which game to watch ... she realized that the idea of family wasn’t a fictional television sitcom. It could be real. She’d just never had it.

She’d never had it with Derek either. In all honesty, she had been the orphan in her marriage as well. It wasn’t intentional on Derek’s part. Like so many new doctors, he fell in love with medicine, with the power of performing surgeries alone and the high of saving the most critical people. The first couple of years had been as close to perfection as a marriage could be, but then he began to miss the little things, dinners, movies. By the fourth year, he forgot birthdays and anniversaries and by the eighth year, he was seldom home more than four hours a night. Addison was used to being alone by then. But it still hurt.

The Torres family, as motley and bizarre as they were, had officially adopted her. Callie may have waited until just before her wedding to have her first real girly sleepover, but Addison had waited just as long to have her first real holiday. The Christmas that she had hosted the previous year had been the highlight of her life. There was laughter, joy, and every Hallmark sentiment that a person could possibly want their holiday to include. She talked to the Torres clan weekly, even Stavros and Loukas, and usually awoke to find a funny email in her mailbox every morning from Melana, who somehow found the most hilarious news items to share.

If Callie was surprised when Addison asked her if she would be upset to share Raphael for aisle duty, she didn’t show it. Instead, Callie hugged her and made it clear that they were as close as two sisters could possibly be ... without the horrible childhood where they probably would have abused and tormented each other relentlessly. So, Addison had asked Raphael in person, flying out for a weekend getaway alone in Miami and he had cried, saying it would be an honor to give her away.

Raph and Melana had surprised Addison as well ... paying in full for the honeymoon. Greece. Addison and Mark had both fallen in love with the photographs that Melana shared with them of her home land so she was sending them there to see it all in person. She even promised that there would be a surprise waiting for the newlyweds once they landed. Addison had been so overcome by the generosity of Callie’s parents that she had sobbed, not wanting to leave. When she got back to Seattle, she stopped to see Callie first and thanked her for sharing her family by presenting her friend with her favorite Miami cheesecake.

Presently, she blinked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled when Melana fastened a string of pearls around her neck. "Something borrowed?" Addison asked.

"Something old," Melana corrected. "Those belonged to my grandmother and now ... they’re yours."

"Oh, Mel, I can’t-"

"Hush." Holding up a pair of diamond and pearl earrings, she added, "Something borrowed," and then "Something new" as she pulled a long blue box from her purse and handed it to Addison. "I hope you like it."

Addison opened the box and grinned from ear to ear. The bracelet was gorgeous, mostly diamond, but shot through with red and blue, her birthstone ... and Mark’s. "It’s so beautiful."

Melana pointed at a few empty spaces. "Plenty of room to add more stones. Your children’s stones."

"Thank you so much!"

"I’m sure your mother is very proud today, angel."

"Are you?" Addison smiled as Melana put the bracelet on her wrist. "Because you’re the only one I’ve ever known."

Sniffling, Melana kissed her on the cheek. "Are you quite certain you must marry Mark today? Because Stavros really is -"

"Don’t match make on her wedding day, Mother," Callie said.

Addison watched her best friend walk out of the bathroom looking like she had just backed over the groom. "What? Did you get your dress dirty ... CALLIE KAREV, IT DOESN’T FIT! I TOLD YOU NOT TO LOSE ANY MORE WEIGHT!"

Callie tugged the top of her gown. "Due to circumstances beyond my control ..."

"I have pins," Melana said, grabbing her purse. "Lots and lots of pins. And my goodness, Callie, that color is gorgeous with your skin. You look beautiful."

Working fast, Melana strategically pinned Callie’s dress, giving her daughter a tongue lashing that promised feeding tubes and ass kickings in equal measures, before she stepped back and nodded. "Perfection! Damn it, Calliope! You HAVE lost too much weight!"

Addison narrowed her eyes at Callie. "As soon as I get back from Greece, you and me, big talk. Big."

"Are you starving yourself again?" Mel asked.

"No," Callie replied, adjusting the top of the dress again. "I’m fine."

Addison didn’t buy it for one minute. Callie definitely looked beautiful. Her hair had been curled, and pinned to the top of her head just like Meredith’s and Cristina’s had been and the caramel colored ribbon that wove in and out of the curls matched the dress. Unlike the other two women, however, Callie’s hair had been *made* for that particular style. The hairstylist had used her natural curl as much as the curling iron and every lock fell into place in record time. It suited her, Addison thought. Callie, of course, didn’t agree. Addison crossed her arms when her friend gazed at her reflection in the mirror, nose wrinkled.

"What!?" Addison snapped.

"I look like I have a gourd on my head. Get it? Gourd head?" With a small grin, Callie sat down.

"You better not steal my thunder today, Cal."

"You mean the way you stole mine by doing a drunken Thriller dance at my reception while I was trying to cut my cake?"

Narrowing her eyes, Addison retorted with, "I told you already! I got the hand signals mixed up! I thought you wanted me to distract everyone so you could make a getaway!"

"That doesn’t explain why you toasted me in drunkenese."

Laughing, Melana checked her watch and announced that she was going to look in on the others, then hurried from the room. Addison gathered her skirt and sat beside her friend. "For someone whose husband is wearing his ring again ... you still look like he’s not."

"We’re not talking about me."

"Yes, we are." Addison put her hand on Callie’s. "I know that I’ve been a mess lately. I know that I’ve been distracted and horrible to you, but I know you. There’s something wrong. Is it Alex?"

"I forgave him."

"And?"

Callie chewed her bottom lip. "I didn’t mean it. Not really. He’s been ... mean to me, you know? He’s called me names and yelled at me in front of everyone and ... he lied to me. He said he’d never leave me, that he wouldn’t try to stop me from flying, and ... *he* didn’t mean *that*."

"I know it’s ridiculous to say it ... but this will pass. You know that, right?"

"No, I don’t know." Callie finally looked at her friend. She wanted to tell her about the alcohol. She wanted to tell her that some part of her blamed Alex for that too because she was *fine* until Alex left her, but she couldn’t because Raphael opened the door and smiled their way.

Getting to her feet, Callie accepted the kiss her father gave her and listened half heartedly when he complemented her and promised to kick her ass for the weight loss. She smoothed her skirt, then Addison’s and gave her a hug, whispering, "You look amazing, Addy. So beautiful. If you want to back out and run away with me then just start coughing and I’ll make a scene."

Addison wanted to smile at the joke, but Callie didn’t. She didn’t meet her eyes either. "Are you sure you’re -"

"Go get hitched, diva. Mark’s tired of waiting." Callie winked at her and left the room.

"Are you ready, honey?" Raphael asked, holding out his arm.

Addison took it and nodded. "Raph, how long are you staying in town?"

"We’re going to be here the remainder of the week. We wanted to stay and celebrate the birth of the Wonder Twins." He referred to Callie and Cambyses, who were born on Halloween.

"Do you think you could stay until I get back?" Addison asked. "I know it’s spur of the moment and you need to get back to work, but ... I’m worried about Callie."

"She has lost a considerable amount of weight again."

"It’s more than that," Addison told him as they headed down the hallway. "She’s not herself."

"I see." They came around the corner and Raphael looked at Callie, who was leaning back against the wall, not laughing at whatever was amusing Meredith and Cristina. Her face told the tale. She was miserable. "We’ll stay."

"Showtime," Meredith announced as one of the wedding planners opened the double doors.

*~

Mark’s eyes widened to the size of saucers when the music swelled and Callie appeared in the doorway. Beside him, Alex smiled and stood a little taller to get a better view. She walked down the aisle looking as regal and majestic as Melana Torres on her *best* day and Melana seemed to know it because she had a hand over her heart as she watched her daughter sail past her and take her place. Alex’s smile had faded by the time Meredith appeared. Callie had not looked his way *once*.

Meredith certainly looked their way. She gave Derek a dazzling smile and stood on the step below the one Callie stood on. Cristina looked miserable, uncomfortable, and self conscious as she did a half walk, half jog. Beside Derek, Burke chuckled and put a hand over his mouth, hiding his amusement behind a well executed cough. Finally, Addison appeared. Her dress had the same trumpet flounce as the bridesmaid’s dresses and it was strapless as well, ivory, and covered in sequins. Her hair had been twisted into a complicated knot on the back of her head and the veil she wore was intricately designed with lace and ribbon.

Mark stopped breathing and Alex nudged him with his elbow to snap him out of it. It felt like the aisle got longer and she got further away and by the time she finally made it to his side, his palms were sweaty and he was breathing so hard that he was dizzy. When she smiled at him, he felt his heart stop ... or flip ... or both ... and he knew he was a goner. The words that he repeated after the minister were mechanical and precise. He heard her say her vows, knew that he’d said his as well, but the only thing he saw, as Raphael predicted, was the sincerity in her face. And he heard the raw honesty of her words. He hoped she felt the same as he spoke as well.

Bride and Groom rode high on their happiness as they posed for photo after photo. The professional photographer was insanely expensive and apparently well worth it because the inventive and *fun* ways that she posed Mr. and Mrs. Sloan held the promise of a lifetime of memories caught on film. The photoshoot lasted close to forty minutes, and then the bridal party headed to the large reception area.

"You look pretty. Skinny, but pretty." Alex took Callie’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk. He didn’t lace their fingers, something he always did. "You’d be gorgeous if you’d smile, though."

"Thanks. I think."

He stopped walking, holding her back as the others went around them. When their friends disappeared into the large brick building, he said, "I’m gonna ask you again, Gothika. Are we okay? Because it doesn’t feel okay. It feels like you’re a million miles from me."

"You certainly pushed me that far." She let out her breath slowly. If he only knew how far she had actually gone. She was angry at herself for drinking. She was. But she was *furious* at him for not seeing it on her face.

"And I apologized. What’s it gonna take to make this right? All the way right and not just a little right."

"Time," she said.

"Time?"

"You were gone for close to three weeks. That’s not a lot of time, but when you’re in Hell ... time seems to stop. It felt like three years. And ... I don’t trust you right now."

Shocked at her words, Alex let her hand go. "You don’t trust me. YOU don’t trust ME? Hello? Which one of us has tried to commit suicide every single time something goes wrong?"

"Not you," she snapped. "You’re too busy packing every single time something goes wrong."

"Bull shit!" he growled, madder than he could recall being. "I didn’t budge when you were fucking up left and right. I stayed right beside you through the alcohol poisoning, through the damage to your liver, through *everything* ... so don’t you dare stand there and act like three weeks is so horrible, by god, because anybody with half a fucking brain would have left your crazy ass a long time ago."

Recoiling as if he had hit her, Callie snatched her wedding rings off her finger and threw them at him. "Why wait another minute!?"

Alex bent to pick them up and when he stood, she was disappearing into the building and Cambyses was a few feet away, looking as thunderstruck as Alex felt. Slipping her rings onto his pinky, Alex straightened a little and stood his ground and six feet four of solid muscle stalked toward him. "Cam-"

But Cam walked past him and if looks could kill, Alex would have died on the spot.

*~

"Gin and tonic, right?"

Callie jumped when a man spoke behind her. She turned on her heel and gazed up at a vaguely familiar face. He was tall, easily as tall as Cambyses and his brown hair was clipped short. Underneath the crisp white shirt he wore, the outline of a wifebeater was evident and his broad, muscular shoulders filled out the shirt in all the right places. It took her a second to place him. He was the guy who had sent her the gin and tonic at Ray’s Steakhouse that had sealed her downward spiral. She gave him a tense smile and shook her head when he lowered the tray full of champagne glasses he was carrying. "No, thanks."

"Let me guess, you’re not into waiters." He extended his free hand. "I’m Randy. And that actually is my name. I’m not telling you that I’m horny."

"I bet *all* the ladies fall for that." She laughed, shaking her head and his hand. "Callie."

"You - you probably hear this a lot, but you may be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Would you like to -"

"I’m married." Callie pulled her hand out of his when he clung to it a little too long. "But thank you."

Randy openly gazed at her left hand. "No rings? With friends like the people around here ... he should be able to afford a ring."

"It didn’t go with my dress," she lied, then spotted her parents watching her. "It was nice to meet you Randy who’s not horny. I should go."

"I’ll see you around."

Callie could feel his eyes on her as she walked around the dance floor, where Addison and Mark were trying to act out the final scene of ‘Dirty Dancing’ and failing miserably. She decided to stay nearby just in case Mark actually did the lift and broke something in Addison’s body when he inevitably dropped her. He was *not* coordinated when it came to dancing.

"Who is that man?" Melana asked, narrowing her eyes in Randy’s direction.

"A waiter." Callie dared a look behind her and saw that the man was still watching her with interest. It made her feel uncomfortable. And dirty. She chalked it up to him being a reminder of the way she had betrayed everyone, especially herself, and let her father lead her toward the table where dinner was being served.

"He’s weird," Melana said, still staring at Randy. "Do you know him?"

"No." With a shake of her head, she let her father seat her beside Addison’s chair. She thanked him and smiled when Addison flopped down beside her, winded. "I told you to start jogging with me, Addy. You’d be able to dance without looking like a sixty year old chain smoker at the Boston marathon if you did."

"Bite me," Addison replied, spreading a napkin over her lap. "Are you still singing?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Duh! Yes! I spent *weeks* picking that song."

"Then I’m still singing." Callie lifted her own napkin and toyed with the ring that held it in place. Her left hand felt too heavy, too bare for her to even look at it.

Alex slipped into the chair beside Callie and put his hand on the back of it. He glared at her for a few seconds, then leaned a little closer as the first course was served. "I didn’t mean what I said."

"You never do."

"Callie, I can’t -"

"You’re right. You can’t. So shut up."

"Don’t tell me to shut up!" Alex snapped, his voice carrying. "You’re about to piss me off."

"I’m too crazy to care. Remember?"

"Stop it." Melana, who was sitting beside Alex, moved back in her chair and looked at her daughter, shaking her head. "You two don’t want to start. Not today. You will *not* ruin Addison’s wedding."

Alex apologized under his breath and picked up his fork, pushing around the shrimp on his plate. He noticed that Callie was doing the same thing beside him.

*~

Addison swayed in Mark’s arms, gazing up at him. The smile on his face did funny things to her insides and she doubted that the two glasses of wine she’d had during dinner had anything to do with it. It was him. It was being near him. It was calling him her *husband*, which had brought the smile to his face to begin with. "I love you," she said.

He kissed her nose, her mouth. "I love you, too, Mrs. Sloan."

"Montgomery-Sloan."

"Aww, Addison, come on!"

"Mark, I have been *published* under Montgomery. I can’t lose that."

"Then get published as Sloan." He brushed his thumb over the pearls against her throat. "Baby, please?"

He stepped on her toe for the millionth time and she grinned. "I’ll think about it."

"We’re going to *Greece*." He picked her up so that her feet couldn’t touch the ground as he continued to rock back and forth. "Athens, here we come."

"We are *so* snorkeling in the Mediterranean Sea."

"And the Sea of Crete," Mark said. "Which I’m pretty sure is rumored to have a nude beach."

She shook her head. "I am not spending my honeymoon watching you lust over nubile Greek women with perfect tits."

"I’ll be too busy lusting over yours." He looked down at her cleavage with appreciation. "Let’s leave now."

"What!? No!" She popped him on the shoulder. "Callie’s singing the last song before I throw the bouquet and then we can go!"

"Well, tell her to start singing, then."

Addison checked his watch and nodded. "It is almost time. I’ll go remind her."

Callie was sitting at the dinner table, alone. Addison frowned when she saw the look on the other woman’s face. "Are you chickening out?"

"What?"

"The song? It’s almost time for us to jump on your dad’s jet and - you’re not wearing your rings. Callie, why are you-"

"Singing now." Callie got to her feet and pushed her chair under the table. "Are you gonna dance?"

"What are you doing?" Addison shook her head. "You are terrifying me. Cal. I don’t understand this. I don’t understand what you’re thinking or -"

"I’m thinking that your wedding was beautiful and what I’m doing ... is singing you on your way." Callie hugged her. "You’ll love Greece."

"No, I won’t. I’ll spend the entire time worrying about you."

"Well, that’s a waste of time." Callie kissed her cheek. "Worry makes you ugly. Mark doesn’t want an ugly bride."

"What happened? Please tell me."

"Alex and I are on a break."

"But -"

The music stopped and the DJ grabbed the mic, urging Callie to take the stage. She gave Addison a smile and headed across the dance floor. Alex stood off to one side, watching her, but she ignored him. At the piano, she flipped the microphone on and took a deep breath. She had planned something witty and fun to say, but her mind was a blank. Her life ... was a blank. "From Addison to Mark. With Love."

Callie launched into ‘Come Away With Me’ by Norah Jones, keeping her eyes closed as her fingers sailed over the keys. She knew she sang it well, she knew that she delivered it with conviction and sold the words. But she didn’t feel a love song, she didn’t want to sing a love song.

What Callie Karev wanted was a drink.

When the song ended and people clapped enthusiastically for her, she took a small bow and left the stage. Her mouth was watering again and her hands had started to shake. Despite how cool the room was, she felt a bead of sweat slip down her back and her eyes strayed to the many, many wine glasses that dotted every available surface. Most of them were half full ... or half empty depending on how you looked at it. She gripped the back of a chair as she watched Addison throw the bouquet and then she was hugging her friend goodbye and Addison was promising to call her.

The DJ was still spinning and Cristina and Burke were showing everyone in the vicinity what real dancers looked like when Sydney approached Callie. She was staggering and carried two wine glasses in her hands. When she stopped in front of Callie, she tipped one back, then belched loudly. Alex, who was standing a few feet away talking to Cam, Melana, and Raphael, turned and glanced their way.

"Syd, what are you doing?" Callie reached for other glass in her hand.

"GET YOUR OWN!" Sydney shouted, shoving Callie’s hand away. "I know what you did! You talked to the Chief about me! You let him know what I told you. Privately. You even suggested that he make a *co* Chief. I’m a *co* Chief now, Callie O’Malley!"

"I’m not an O’Malley," Callie told her, watching the other woman down the se