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 second glass of wine. In that moment, Callie envied that Sydney could openly and completely lose herself in the bottom of a bottle and no one bothered stopping her. "You told me -"

"YOU TOLD ME NOT TO TELL ABOUT YOU AND I DIDN’T!" Sydney’s voice was usually loud, but now it was booming. It was so overpowering that people in the middle of the pulsing dance floor were turning to look at the source.

"Don’t-" Callie began.

"DON’T WHAT!?" Sydney shouted. She looked over her shoulder at Alex. "DON’T TELL HIM ABOUT THE BENDER WE HAD THE OTHER NIGHT!? THE ONE WHERE YOU GOT SO DRUNK THAT YOU COULDN’T DRIVE AND HAD TO SPEND THE NIGHT AT THE HOSPITAL. THAT ONE?"

A feather could have knocked Callie over. Sydney continued to ramble about the many shots that Callie had taken, about the way they had both nearly gotten hit by a car because Callie fell into traffic and took Sydney with her, and then Raphael was gripping Callie’s arm like a vise and pulling her into an empty sitting room. It was Melana who slammed the door after Alex and Cam followed and it hit so hard that two large paintings fell into the floor. Callie’s eyes were riveted to the Virgin Mary who was staring upward, seemingly looking into Callie’s soul.

"Is it true?" Melana demanded. "Is it?!"

Callie didn’t speak.

"ANSWER HER!" Raph bellowed. "DID YOU!?"

With a nod, Callie walked to the window and stared out. Addison was climbing into the limo, making a secret getaway while everyone was still busy. For a moment, she thought the red head saw her, but then Addison was gone and Callie was wishing that she was locked away in the trunk. She drowned out the voices behind her, finally putting her hands over her ears when Melana began to yell in Greek.

Cam pushed her arms down and forced her to listen.

"Why in the hell did you do this? WHY!?" Raphael’s tone was so commanding that Melana was silenced in mid tirade. "You *know* that you have a problem! You know that your liver is --- explain yourself! SAY SOMETHING, CALLIOPE!"

"There’s nothing to say." Callie still didn’t look anyone in the eye. "It’s done. I - I can’t take it back."

Alex rubbed a hand over his face. He had been unable to find his voice until he heard hers. "Have you had your liver checked since then?"

She nodded. "Twice."

"And?"

"It’s fine." Callie looked at him, then back at the floor. His expression devastated her. It was full of loathing, just like she had known it would be. "And I’ve been to a meeting since then."

"Only one?" Alex snapped. "You did this a few days ago. You were hungover that day in the chapel, weren’t you? That’s why you were -"

"Yes, but -"

"Then why did you just go to one meeting? They have several a day and -"

"I --- bought a bottle of bourbon yesterday morning when I got off work and I had this battle of wills with it for a while and then I went to a meeting and poured it out."

"BOURBON ALMOST KILLED YOU!" Cambyses shouted, grabbing her arms and shaking her. It was so rough that Callie’s teeth clattered together and she bit her tongue, crying out. He didn’t relent. "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND!?"

"STOP!" Alex moved between them, pushing Cam away from her. He absently touched the red marks that Cambyses had left on her upper arms, then tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him. His nostrils flared, his cheeks were flushed, and his voice was hard. "I am ashamed of you and I never thought I’d say that."

Callie watched in horror as her husband stalked out of the room. Cam followed behind him, not looking back, not saying a word. Feeling like she was carrying the weight of the world, Callie slumped into the nearest chair and buried her forehead in her hands. The tears that she had been swallowing back for most of the day came rushing out and for a while, she was grateful that her parents were uncharacteristically quiet. She lifted her head after a few minutes had passed. She wanted to look them in the eye when she apologized.

The room was empty.


They had left her, too.

She sobbed now and it echoed around the silent room, vibrating through her like a drum. There was a sofa in the corner and she curled up on it, her knees pulled against her chest. She had no idea how much time elapsed, but when she looked back at the window ... it was dark outside. The music had stopped in the other room and she rolled over, putting her feet in the floor. Her tears started all over again, unbidden, and she leaned her head against the arm of the couch.

Then warm, strong arms wrapped around her and she said, "Alex - I’m -"

"It’s Randy."

She gasped and sat back, gazing at the man in shock. "What are you -"

"Comforting a pretty woman."

"I have to go."

"Go? What’s the hurry."

"I need to get home and -"

When he pulled her against him again, he copped a feel, openly grasping her breast. She shoved him and he *laughed*, grabbing her wrist as he wrenched the top of her dress down. Her decision not to wear a bra left her exposed and *furious*. He roughly gripped her flesh, tugging, bruising, and she slapped him. He retaliated with a head butt to her face that forced her to see stars ... and him ... swimming in and out of her vision as he got to his feet and pulled a knife from the front pocket of his pants.

"Easy or hard? Vanilla or chocolate? You get to decide, sweet thing." He slid the knife between her breasts, then down to the cloth of her dress. "Let’s see what the rest of you looks like."

"NO!" Callie punched him, sending him sprawling on his ass. She leaped to her feet and tried to jump over him, but he gripped her leg and dug the knife into her tender calf. The pain took her breath and prevented her from screaming. She choked on the sound and gagged on the blood that was running from her nose into her mouth.

"Hard, then," he told her, pushing her onto her stomach. The knife rubbed over her cheek as he tried to lift the bottom of her dress.

She elbowed him in the stomach, crawling to her knees, then her feet. She stumbled, her injured leg buckling under her. The blade sliced her ankle and she tried to scream, tried to rage, but the pain was almost unbearable and she could not make a sound.

Randy caught the end of her dress as she made a frantic dash for the door. It ripped at the waist, exposing her hip. Callie grabbed a lamp off the table and threw it at him, but he ducked fast and laughed again. Limping, she put the table between them, glancing at the door. If she tried to run -

"You ain’t gonna make it," he told her, running the blade between his fingers to clean it. "Now, I don’t want to ruin your pretty face, but I will."

The casual way he promised to destroy her sent fire racing through her veins. She drew herself to her full height and said, "Try it, asshole."

He leaped across the table, reaching for her. She ducked under him and raced to the back door, flinging it open. There was a small courtyard with round patio furniture and the parking lot was just around the corner. She opened her mouth and screamed, but it barely took flight because Randy tackled her from behind. With her wind knocked out, she couldn’t fight him as she turned her onto her back and punched her. She lost count of the blows, lost track of the pain. Then the knife was at her throat and he was trying again to lift her dress and she was kicking with everything she had.

Callie brought her knee up into his crotch as hard as she could and it was *his* scream that was loud and clear. She had expected him to roll off her, but she wasn’t so lucky. His pain seemed to renew his efforts and he snatched at her hair and she was convinced he was scalping her. She clawed at his face then bit into his chest hard enough to bring blood. He howled and slammed a fist into her gut. She drew inward, trying to get her lungs to fill with air and then someone shouted nearby and there was a flash of black, a flash of Latte and then more screams ... of outrage.

Then ... silence.


*~*~*~

Miranda Bailey became a doctor for the money. That’s all there was to it. She had been smart enough to get a full ride to any school she wanted and she thought about going into law for a split second, then her father started calling her Doctor ‘Randa and medical school won out. She aced her exams, graduated top of the class, and buried her father just two short weeks after he had beamed at her from the front row. It made her feel helpless at the time, watching him bleed to death after a car had mowed him down right in the busy street she had grown up on. She was a helpless *daughter* who could not save a life, no matter how much schooling she had. He had been mortally wounded.

Now, at this moment, she was a helpless *doctor* who couldn’t shut off the woman in her brain long enough to think clearly. Callie had not woken up yet and rape kits were hard on everyone involved, but Miranda had only done two in her entire medical career and one of those had been a practice run. She needed Addison. She needed Addison Montgomery to walk through the door, put on gloves, and do the kit correctly because you only got one shot to collect everything ... and Miranda was terrified that she would blow it. She also needed consent, so she shook Callie again, gently saying her name.

Chief Webber still worked on the two wounds to Callie’s leg. He had decided that she would not require surgery, but as Miranda watched him stitch it, she thought that Callie would likely need an amputation before all was said and done because the Chief’s hands were shaking and he was moving slowly because of it. He caught her looking at him and said, "Did someone find Alex?"

"Not yet," she replied. "Can I get consent from her brother?"

"You want to get consent from someone who just committed murder?" Webber shook his head. "The police are still with him. Leave him alone."

"It was self defense," Bailey said. "Everyone saw it. When her parents get here, I’ll get them to sign everything."

"Or you can just do the exam. We need to know. The police need to know."

"Yes, sir."

"O’Malley is the only familiar face on duty right now. Do you want him to help?"

"No. Just send a couple of nurses in."

Miranda watched as he finished up Callie’s leg and left the room. She shook her friend again and said, "DAMN IT! WAKE UP, GIRL!"

Callie complied, jumping three feet off the bed. "Alex-"

"It’s me." Miranda smiled at her, keeping her voice much calmer than she felt. "Can you remember what happened?"

Callie’s head was a jumble of flashes and strange images until Randy’s face emerged from the tangle and she pushed herself upright, opening her mouth to scream as pain shot through every inch of her. Bailey impulsively hugged her, soothing her the way Melana had when Callie would barrel into the master bedroom room after a nightmare as a littel girl. "What-"

"This is important," Bailey said, easing back to look at the other woman. "Did he rape you?"

"He - he tried." Callie stared down at her hands. She was missing several finger nails. "I - I fought."

"I can see." Miranda took one of her hands, so relieved that she could have sunk to the floor in prayer. "I’m not Mark Sloan so my stitches need a little work, but -"

"What happened? I mean - who helped me?"

"We can talk about all that later," Miranda replied, easing away. "Because of the nature of this assault, we need to still do the kit, Callie. You weren’t conscious when you came in and it’s possible that he - that you -"

"Okay."

"Do you want me to get someone for you? I know that Meredith and Cristina are here. Izzie’s out there, too. She’s the one stopped the bleeding on your leg at the scene." Bailey saw that none of the choices were the ones she wanted. "We’re still trying to get in touch with your parents."

"Alex?"

"We left a message."

"I’ll be okay with just you."

The nurses that Bailey requested came in and Callie tried to get out of the bed. Miranda told them to leave and gently eased Callie back. "You relax. I’ll do this as fast as I can."

Callie nodded.

Miranda pulled on gloves and opened the kit, taking out several vials and swabs. "The last person I did a routine pelvic exam on was Addison. She had poison ivy on her ... hee haw ... and -"

Callie tuned her out, gazing out the window at the black sky. It had started to rain and water dotted the glass. She could hear thunder rumbling in the distance and she gripped the bedclothes as Bailey began the exam. Callie figured that the thunder was God, reminding her that lacking a fear gene wasn’t always smart. Because someone bigger, badder, and stronger had given her a comeuppance.

And finally clipped her wings.

*~

Melana had changed out of her wedding attire, opting for jeans and a sweater. She rushed into the front doors of Seattle Grace with a frantic expression on her face. The call from Cristina had been taken by Raphael, who grabbed her shoes and his wallet and half carried her to the car. He refused to tell her what had been said, only that something had happened. Melana’s mind raced as only a mother’s could. She imagined Callie, poisoned by alcohol again. What she *saw*, however, was Cambyses, covered in blood, a stark white bandage against his face, and she broke into a sprint. "Cam!"

He caught his mother as she flung herself at him, trying to feel every inch of him for injuries. "I’m okay."

Raphael, who had been delayed by parking the car, hurried to his wife’s side, pausing to take in the carnage around him. Cristina and Meredith were sitting side by side against the wall, both looking like extras in a horror movie. Their Latte dresses had been stained with blood and beside them, Izzie Stevens stood with her arms crossed over her chest. The bottom of her dress was ripped, revealing most of her leg, and both of her hands were crimson. "Where is -"

"They’re working on her," Cam replied.

"Who? Is - Callie -"

Cam opened his mouth to speak, but Alex ran through the double doors and drew up short when he saw everyone. Cam motioned for him and Alex hurried to their side. "What happened to her? They said there was an accident. Is she - was it the car?"

"No." Cam ran a hand over his face. "She was attacked. She was, uh, raped. We think."

Melana sat down in a chair and Izzie hurried to her side, kneeling beside her and speaking in a soft, low voice. Raphael put an arm around Alex, who swayed on the spot, and said, "Is she - what are -"

"The only thing they’re saying is that she’s lost a lot of blood." Cam looked at the officer’s behind him. "God, I don’t know how to say this. I went back to check on her because I didn’t feel right about how we left it. I saw that her car was still at the church and I looked around for a while and then checked the room we had been in. It was locked. I heard her scream and knocked it down and ... Meredith and Derek were there. Callie had run outside and that guy ... he was on top of her, he was trying to kill her. Before all was said and done ... he cut Derek and then came at me and ... well ... it was the last mistake he made."

"You ... killed him, son?" Raphael looked horrified.

"I got the knife away from him and - yeah, Dad, I killed him. And I’d do it again. If you had been there to see it -" Cam shivered. "I called Blake. I know you wanted him to stay and handle things for the week, but -"

"It’s fine." Raphael touched his son’s arm. "And what do the police say?"

"They know it was self defense, Dad. There are more than ten witnesses." Cambyses reached down and clasped Alex’s shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Alex couldn’t form words at all.

Bailey took a deep breath as she peered through the door at the family. Straightening her jacket, she stiffened her upper lip and headed out to talk to them. "Would the family please come with me?"

She didn’t object when Yang, Grey, and Stevens filed in behind the actual relatives. The Angry Woman Club was two members short, but the anger rolling off the remaining three was palpable. And justified. So she let them come along. When they were all seated in a secluded family room, Miranda sat down beside Alex and took his hand. "How much do you know?"

"Enough. How is she?"

"She’s awake," Miranda replied. "The stab wound to her calf won’t need surgery. The one on her ankle was really close to the tendon, but we don’t see any damage there that can’t mend on its own. She --- she was *not* raped."

Everyone cried out their relief and Miranda raised a hand to silence them. "She did take a beating, though. I need you all to be prepared for that. Stay calm. If you fall apart then she will fall apart and thus far ... she hasn’t. At all. Be gentle and don’t crowd her. Don’t grab her hands, either, because I had to stitch both and -"

"He cut her hands?" Cristina demanded. "Her surgeon hands!?"

Bailey shook her head. "No. She fought him. She fought for her life. She’s missing a few fingernails and the backs of her hands were split open, either by his teeth or by the force of the blows. She may not want to be touched. Don’t try to force her to talk about it or ask her a lot of questions. She’s holding up okay, but she’s jumpy. The slightest noise startles her."

"Does she know what I did?" Cam asked. "Because before she blacked out she saw me. She saw ... it."

"She hasn’t talked to me about it," Bailey replied. "She hasn’t really talked at all. And that’s not uncommon, but we’re going to have someone from the rape crisis center come and see her ... maybe help her deal."

"Can we see her?" Alex got to his feet.

Bailey nodded and looked at Meredith. "You wait here. I’ll let Burke know where you are. He’s almost finished with Derek’s surgery and he’ll be in to talk to you soon." She watched Cam get to his feet and shook her head. "You need to clean up before you visit her. I’m sorry, but she doesn’t need to see you looking like that. Stevens, show him where the spare scrubs are and let him use the resident’s locker room. Callie’s in seven twelve."

Cam accompanied the blond without complaint. Bailey nodded at Callie’s family and said, "Follow me."

She led them to a large corner room in the ER, the biggest and most private that the hospital had. It was reserved for massive traumas. Turning, she took a deep breath. "She asked about showering. We can get some waterproof bandages for her leg, but with the blood loss ... we’re concerned about her standing for too long. Her blood pressure hasn’t stabilized yet. So, if she needs to go to the restroom or insists on showering ... someone has to stay with her."

Alex nodded and opened the door. His wife was sitting on the bed with her legs pulled against her chest. Her face was down and he was struck, reminded of one of the first times he had really talked to her. She had been crying in the resident’s lounge and when he peered inside, she was sitting on the window ledge in the same exact position. He said her name and she looked up, causing him to stop walking toward her from the shock. He had seen trauma. He had witnessed it firsthand as a child when his mother would crawl on her hands and knees to the bathroom to clean the blood from her face. He had iced her bruises, covered her eyes when they were swollen shut ... but seeing Callie this way ... he wasn’t able to move at all until she lowered her head again, shielding the worst of the injuries from his view. Not seeing the carnage broke the spell and he hurried to her side. "Baby -"

"I’m okay," she said, her head still down.

Melana wiped the tears off her own face before she eased to Callie’s other side and said, "Do you want something to drink? Some water? Juice?"

Callie didn’t reply.

"Why don’t you lie down, mi vida?" Mel continued. "You need to rest and -"

"It hurts," Callie replied. "My back."

Alex peered around her. The gown she wore was untied and he could see a couple of bruises. He gently eased one of the flaps to the side and Callie practically leapt off the bed. "Whoa." He held his hands up. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry."

Melana had grabbed her before she could jump too far. Wordlessly, she pulled her a little closer and kissed her cheek, holding her daughter against her chest. "Can you lie on your side?"

Callie shook her head. "I don’t want to. Where’s Cam?"

"He’s coming, Mija." Raphael finally turned toward her. He had taken one brief look at her and gone to the window instead. The wounds he had inflicted on people paled in comparison and he was a *professional*. "Do you need something for the pain, kitten?"

"I don’t want it." Even as Callie said it, her mother released her and the shift caused her to cry out in agony.

"You need it," Alex told her, trying to help her get comfortable.

She flinched away from him when he touched her knee. "Don’t."

He put his hands in the pockets of his pants. The urge to touch her, all of her, to see the damage for himself, was simply too great otherwise. "Callie, is there anything I can -"

"You don’t have to be here," she replied.

"I want to be here."

"We’re not okay," she told him.

"I’m not going anywhere. And we’re fine, Cal. We are."

She put her head back on her knees, praying that the pain would stop. It wasn’t fine. She wasn’t fine and her marriage wasn’t fine. Alex had made it clear that a *sane* man would have left her and that he was ashamed of her. She didn’t look up again until Cambyses walked in and rushed to her side. She didn’t have to ask. She knew. She simply knew that what she thought she saw was the truth. He had removed the source of her injuries. Patting the side of the bed, she reached up and touched his cheek when he sat down. "You killed him."

"I didn’t want to. Well, yeah, I did, but I didn’t - he came at me." Cam reached up and pulled a couple of bobby pins from her hair. Melana’s hands joined his and they quickly freed it, letting her black locks fall in soft waves around her shoulders. "Now you’re Callie. That up-do was *so* not you. Made you look old."

Saying nothing, Callie leaned forward, her head on her brother’s shoulder. It hurt, when he pulled her a little closer, but she said nothing. She stayed that way and when the nurse arrived to offer her the medications that the Chief had ordered ... Cam told her to take it and she did.

She fell asleep still upright against his shoulder.

And he didn’t listen when everyone told him to let her go. He clung to her the same way he had years before, when they were ten years old and sank their uncle’s yacht. He clung to her like she was his lifeline.

Because she was.

*~*~

"Melana Torres wins at *life*!" Mark announced, when Addison emerged from the airplane bathroom wearing a solid white lingerie set that left nothing to the imagination. He gazed at his wife’s milky thighs, where her stockings were held in place by garters that were diamond studded. His eyes moved hungrily over her body, pausing at the exposed patch of her belly below her corset. Holding up his finger, he motioned for her to turn around. She complied and he leaped from the bed when he saw the thong she wore. "Melana is also a dirty, dirty woman. Best damn wedding present we got!"

Addison cackled with glee when he tossed her onto the bed. "Airplane sex! Mile high club here we come!"

"Not just any old airplane," Mark said, climbing up her body, peppering her with kisses. "A gazillion dollar plane with a *vibrating* bed!"

Her eyes widened when he flipped a switch and the bed hummed to life. "This is where Callie gets her perversion."

"Are you kidding? The pilot told me the bed was new. Melana slept on the one like it on Goon Docks and it rocked her world." Mark kissed her on the forehead. "Are you going to let me take this off, Mrs. Sloan?"

"I really want to hyphenate it, Mark."

"Hyphenating it means that there is something between us."

"It does not!" Addy replied, running her foot up his bare leg.

"Yes, it does." He moved to one side to prevent her from distracting him. "It means that there is a minus sign after your name ... which implies that you can subtract me from your life any time."

"Now that’s just ridiculous."

"You married me! That means -"

"We talked about this already!"

"Right, we *talked* about it. Now’s when we decide," he snapped. "Either we’re together in name ... and everything else ... or we’re not."

She groaned. "Are you threatening to divorce me already?"

"It’s not a real marriage unless you-"

"Ooooh!" She pushed him completely off her and got to her feet. "You are acting like a damn caveman! This is -"

"And you’re acting like a damn femi-Nazi who-"

"Did you just call me a Nazi!?" She picked up the pillow and hit him with it. "I am so glad this plane has two bedrooms! Get the hell out!"

"You’re already on your feet. You get the hell out." He snatched the pillow from her hand and put it behind his head, making a show of plumping it. "You want equality or whatever? Fine. Keep your damn name. I don’t care. But don’t ask me to do anything *manly* for you because you not taking my last name is emasculating!"

Addison grabbed a pair of flannel pajamas from her overnight bag and stalked out of the room. For thirty minutes, she paced the length of the second bedroom, which only contained a twin bed, waiting for him to come and apologize. When he didn’t, she picked up the cabin phone and dialed Callie’s cell. It rang several times and then went to voice mail. "Hey, it’s me. God. We didn’t even make it to the actual honeymoon before we had our first married fight. I don’t know whether to choke him or toss his ass off the plane. If I turn that big handle on the door will it suck us all out or just him? ‘Cause I can fix it so he’s standing there. I wish you were here, Cal. I miss you already. The next trip I take ... it’s you and me. Love you. Call me. Bye."

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 4
Derek awoke with a groan, holding up his bandaged arm. The knife had entered on the underside, just above the elbow. For good measure, he flexed his fingers and gripped the bedrail, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that there was no nerve damage. He felt everything he touched and he could see that his grip was firm.

"You’re awake," Meredith said as she entered the room. She looked at his arm, then his face and burst into tears. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"I’m sorry," he told her, tilting his head to one side as he watched her. Holding out his uninjured hand, he beckoned her forward and pulled her against his chest. "Better?"

"Maybe."

"How’s Callie?"

"They said she wasn’t raped."

"Oh, thank God. I wasn’t sure. It looked ... well, you saw it, too."

"Yeah, I did." Meredith lifted her skirt a few inches and climbed into the bed beside him. "I don’t want to go to sleep. I think I’ll keep seeing it."

"How do my shoes fit?" Derek asked.

"Huh?"

He pulled her a little closer. "What you feel right now. That’s exactly how I felt when I saw you floating in Elliot Bay. When you drowned ... I didn’t want to go to sleep because every time I closed my eyes ... I saw your face. It was blue and you weren’t breathing."

She sniffled and looked up at him. "Let’s make a deal. I won’t get near the water again if you won’t be a knight in shining whatever ... ever."

"I accept that deal." He kissed her forehead. "How’s Alex?"

"I passed by the chapel while ago. He was in there with his head in Melana’s lap ... he’s devastated."

"I’m so glad we heard Callie scream. If we hadn’t been there-"

"We were." Meredith put her hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Cambyses ... he killed him."

"Cam is dead!?"

"No! Cam killed the man. You were knocked out by then."

Cristina knocked and poked her head in, looking grim. She had taken her hair down and was wearing Burke’s bloody tux jacket over her soiled dress. Cristina had been the first to get to Callie. While Derek had tackled the man, she had dropped to her knees beside her friend and tried to mop up as much blood as possible. It had terrified her when Callie lost consciousness. Burke had joined the fight and was busily tending to Derek and Cambyses by the time Izzie appeared. The blond had thought fast ... ripping her own skirt to make a field dressing for Callie’s leg. Frazzled and exhausted, Cristina looked at Derek and said, "How do you feel?"

Derek smiled at her. "I’m okay. Have you seen Cal?"

"She’s sleeping. Webber sedated her ... and Mel sedated Alex, too. Just now."

Meredith sat up beside Derek, pushing her hair back. "What -"

"Apparently Callie drank again and they all said some stuff to her before the attack so they’re feeling pretty small and she’s not letting anyone except Cam near her." Cristina massaged her forehead. "I told Callie the other day that she was like a bad storm cloud and -"

"Stop." Meredith shook her head. "We were all pretty pissed and stand offish after the air show. I mean ... Alex called me a secretive asshole and I blamed her just as much as he did."

"This sucks." Cristina’s mood improved significantly when Burke walked in. He was dressed in the same dark blue scrubs he had always favored and his lucky scrub cap. While he was currently employed at Mercy West, Webber had made the exception to let him operate on Derek.

He pulled Cristina into his arms and gave her a kiss. "You ready to go home?"

"I haven’t seen you in this outfit in a really, really long time."

"Over a year, but who’s counting?" Burke pushed her hair back and smiled at Derek. "How are you?"

"I’m good. Thank you. You saved my career."

"There are a lot of heroes tonight, man. A lot."

*~*~*~*~*~

Addison woke with a start, then frowned when she saw the reason why. The cute little flight attendant, blond and petite and giggly, was shaking her. Sitting up, Addison checked her watch. The attendant, appropriately named Bianca, gave her a wide, sparkling smile. "We’re approaching Greece. You’ll need to take your seat and strap in soon, ma’am."

"Thank you." Addison waited for the girl to leave, then hastily crossed the hall. The master bedroom was empty and Mark’s bag was no longer in the corner of the room. She gathered her own bag and pulled out casual slacks and a sweater, then quickly dressed and brushed her teeth. She carried her repacked satchel into the main cabin to store in the overhead and narrowed her eyes.

Her ‘husband’ was watching a movie on the big screen television while he openly flirted with Bianca, who was seated beside him. The girl shot to her feet when she saw Addison and rambled off several breakfast choices. Addison chose a bagel and juice as she stowed her bag. Mark had gotten to his feet so she could slide into the spot beside him, but she stalked further up the aisle, taking a seat with her back to him. He chuckled behind her and went back to his movie.

Bianca brought out the food and glanced back and forth between the newlyweds. "My husband and I couldn’t sit close enough together when we got married."

Addison noted the lack of a ring on her garishly manicured hand. "How long have you been married?"

"We were married for eleven months, but we got divorced."

"Maybe you should have sat apart." Addison turned her attention to the window.

"Don’t mind her," Mark said. "She’s a red headed she-devil."

Addison peered around the seat at him. "And you’re an old fashioned prude. Do I need to mention your reaction to handcuffs?"

"Only if I mention that for a modern woman ... you sure get off on being spanked like a naughty little girl."

"Don’t talk to me."

"My pleasure."

Bianca smiled. "Are you *sure* you’re not blood related to the Torres family? You sound just like them."

The landing in Greece went smoothly. The pilot turned on the intercom and told them all about the scenery as they approached. It was like a history lesson in mid air and his wealth of knowledge was as impressive as the view. Addison gasped so many times that she was lightheaded from it. They left the plane, Mark carrying his suitcase, Addison carrying both of hers and the overnight bag. He didn’t offer to help her. She alternated between pushing and pulling the largest of the two until an insanely attractive older man in a suit hurried forward, saying, "Addison?"

She stopped walking and blew a strand of hair off her forehead. "I’m sorry. Do I -"

"I’m Demitri Karakas." The man extended his hand. "Melana’s brother. She described you perfectly."

"Oh! Hi!" Addison clasped his hand, beaming at him. His black hair was shot through with gray and fell to his shoulders in curls. She briefly thought of Yanni. "So, everyone in your family has great hair, huh?"

Demitri smiled and touched his flyaway curls. "It’s only great when it’s on someone else, my dear. How was your flight?"

"Long." Addison hefted her overnight bag again. "And exhausting."

The old man frowned and glanced toward the limo he had exited. Mark was standing behind it, handing over his luggage to the chauffer who had been wielding a sign that read ‘Sloan’. "I mean no offense, Red Robin, but if all men in America leave their women to carry the luggage ... why are they able to entice such beautiful brides?"

"Lover’s quarrel." Addison let the man lift her luggage and followed along behind him. "He seems to take offense to me keeping my name."

"Did he love you with the old name?"

"Yes."

"Then he should love you with or without his. Shall I break one of his bones to remind him?"

Addison laughed. "You sound just like Melana."

"Where do you think she learned it?"

After Addison introduced Demitri to Mark, the three settled into the back of the limo. Addison politely answered all of the man’s questions about Callie and her brothers and showed him several photos of his niece that were on her phone. Demi entertained them with stories of Callie’s youth and her many trips to visit him ... some without her parent’s knowledge. As they made their way along the coastline, Demi pointed out various landmarks. Almost forty minutes later, they arrived at a large gate and Addison rolled the window down to get a better view of the place where Melana had grown up.

The house was even bigger than the Torres home in Miami. Parts of it looked modern, but most of it looked like castle. "The oldest part of the house was built in the eighteen fifties," Demi said. "Over the years we’ve added on, but we’ve never torn down the original structure. Most of the architecture has remained the way our ancestors envisioned it."

"It’s amazing," Addison said, breathing in the smell of the sea. "How many siblings does Melana have?"

"Eight. All brothers."

"Whoa!" Mark shook his head. "Nine kids?"

"Three sets of twins," Demi replied politely. The way he regarded Mark implied that he still had not forgotten the luggage. "Unfortunately only myself and Xenos, the youngest, are here in Greece. Our family has spread far and wide. He’s hoping to come and visit with you if his schedule permits. Neither of us reside here at Bounty’s Keep so apart from the staff, you’ll have the place to yourselves."

They finally arrived in front of the house and Addison smiled at the many people who had come to stand on the rough, stone steps. There were at least fifteen in all. The chauffer opened the door and a tall, lanky man with the most crooked nose Addy had ever seen stepped forward and bowed so low that she wondered if the tip of his nose scraped the ground. "Ma’am," he said, "I am Barnacle, head butler. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Addison shook his hand and watched him greet Mark in the same manner. "You’re not from Greece. Your accent sounds New England. Are you a Gloucester man?"

"Born and raised," Barnacle told her. "Are you from there?"

"New York, but we vacationed in Massachusetts every year. You’re a long way from home."

"No, ma’am." He shook his head. "It took retirement from the fishing industry to bring me home. Please, let me introduce the staff."

They came forward one by one for the introductions. There were five housekeepers, several gardeners, and four cooks who were dressed in full Chef attire. Two masseuses were introduced last, both male, and Addison wondered what Callie thought of the Greek Gods. They were both giants, both cut, and both too gorgeous to put into words. She couldn’t wait to see if their fingers were as talented as they were charming.

Demitri apologized after the introductions were completed, saying that he had to get back to his office for an important phone call. He hugged Addison, shook Mark’s hand, and climbed back into the limo. Willa, the head housekeeper, led the newlyweds inside the house, chattering with a thick Greek accent about everything under the sun. She was very short, very round, and wore a standard gray uniform with a white apron, which she nervously twisted in her plump fists.

"We don’t get very many visitors," she said, looking back and forth between them. "I’ve been working here for over forty years so if you need anything at all ... you need only ask. Please, may I give you a brief tour?"

"Certainly," Addison replied, watching as the gardeners carried their luggage up a sprawling staircase.

The brief tour wound up taking close to an hour as there was nothing brief about the house. The floors in the old structure were stone and the carvings inside the stone caused Addison’s high heels to nearly break her ankles. She finally slipped her shoes off just in time to sink into the thickest, plushest carpet she had ever dug her toes into. It felt like marshmallows and the color was shocking and beautiful at the same time. Everything in the family room was navy blue. The walls, the carpet, the furniture. The only other color present was white. All the tables, trim, and accessories were brilliant against the dark blue and it could have been too much ... but it wasn’t. It fit.

Next they were shown a theater and the fully stocked library of movies. The kitchen near the family room was small and unremarkable. Willa explained that all of the real cooking took place in another kitchen just off the dining room, which was in another wing of the house. The small kitchen was an ‘in between’ that was used as a wet bar or refreshment stand during parties. The library was easily three stories tall, round, and stocked with so many tomes that the scent of leather was almost overpowering.

It was all too much to absorb, even in the hour spent trying. Addison finally pronounced it the most breathtaking thing she had ever seen. Willa gave her a secretive smile and said, "Only because you’ve yet to see the view."

The housekeeper opened two double doors and motioned for her guests to step outside. Mark and Addison both cried out in shock ... and fear. The balcony they stood on was glass on bottom so that none of the scenery was compromised. It jutted at least twenty feet over a cliff that was Grand Canyon like in its proportions. Water and rocks were all that could be seen for miles and Addison’s stomach lurched when she realized that parts of the back of the house appeared to have been carved right into the rocky cliff that they now overlooked. If they fell ... it would kill them. They were at least fifty stories from the water’s surface.

"This is unreal," Mark said, leaning casually against the glass railing as he gazed over.

"Mark, get away from there." Addison put her hand on his and he kept hold of it as he stepped toward her, not letting go.

"It’s safe," Willa told them, then pointed across the water. "Can you see the other keep?"

"I’m sorry, what?" Mark asked.

"I must apologize. No matter how much American television Calliope sends me ... my vocabulary is as old as me." The old woman laughed, her eyes crinkling. "Can you make out the house against the rocks there?"

Both squinting, Addison and Mark stared at the opposite shoreline. The sun was reflecting off the water, turning everything yellow and orange. Finally, he pulled his wife a little closer, his head against hers, and pointed. "There it is. See the windows? It’s right next to the rock that looks like ... praying hands."

"Oh! Yeah!" Addy nodded. "What is that place?"

"Talking Rock," Willa replied. "No one lives there now, but for many, many years it was a church. Different priests would reside there under the family’s urging to keep watch on Bounty’s Keep. Every marriage until Calliope’s took place at Talking Rock. The soil is blessed a million times over."

"That’s amazing," Addison told her, still staring at the cottage. "Could we visit?"

"Everything is yours while you are here, madam. You may use the boats, the cars, the horses, everything. When Demi flies you to Egypt, you’ll be given an aerial tour of the estate here and the surrounding areas as well. If anything strikes your fancy and you want to see it better, simply let me know and I’ll arrange for someone to escort you." The woman curtsied. "May I show you your room?"

Mark and Addison exchanged amused looks. Being treated like royalty made them both uncomfortable and self important in equal measures. They mostly felt self important when another set of doors opened and they feasted their eyes on a room that was as large as their entire cabin back in Seattle. "Holy crap," Addison exclaimed, reaching out and touching one of the fabric covered walls.

The king size bed had a canopy that matched the silk walls and the pattern gave the room a middle eastern flair. Mostly oranges, reds, and yellows, everything was pristine and shining. The chandelier that hung over a sitting area was large and crystal and the paintings were all illuminated with special track lighting that showcased the artist’s talents beautifully. When Willa saw Mark admiring a perfect oil replication of the view from the glass deck, she beamed. "Melana is quite the artist."

"She did these? All of these?" Mark asked, gazing at the room at large. "There must be hundreds."

"She was quite the prolific artist."

Addison could only gaze around her in wonder. "This room is fit for a king."

"The room was actually built for a queen," Willa corrected as she stoked the fire in the grate. "Many noble ladies have stood where you are standing. And ... woman are rare in the Karakas family. Melana and Calliope are the only females born into the direct line in over seventy years. So ... this is their room, decorated to celebrate their femininity and the hope that they can carry on the lineage. Stavros was conceived here."

Addison grinned and looked at the bed. "Was that before or after their wedding at Talking Rock?"

"That’s rude," Mark chided.

Willa laughed, a hearty, rich sound. "Before, ma’am. Which is why Papa Karakas had Raphael beaten within an inch of his life and invited no one to the ceremony. He saw to it that Raphael was whisked away almost immediately. Poor Melana ... she left home just a few short months later. Seventeen and all alone."

Mark shifted from one foot to the other as he listened. He was almost certain that Melana had said she married at seventeen and gave birth to Stavros as nineteen. He filed the information in the back of his mind, however, as Willa showed them the bathroom and instructed them to settle in while she saw to their lunch. When the old woman cleared out, he watched Addison kick off her shoes and climb into the bed, which was so tall that it required a step stool.

He followed suit, toeing off his own as he crawled in beside her. "Listen, Addison ... I *will* convince you to take my name, but until I figure out how ... can I just say that I’m sorry and give you a kiss? We’re in paradise and there’s a rule somewhere that says you can’t be pissed in paradise."

"I didn’t get a wedding night because of you."

"What’s one night when we have a lifetime?"

"A lifetime!? I’m *forty*." She crossed her arms over her chest as she gazed up at the canopy. "I may have twenty more years of good sex left in me."

"Just twenty?"

"Do you really want to have sixty year old sex?"

"Is my name not Mark Sloan?" He grinned. "I’ve been having sex since I was thirteen. I’ll still be doing it on my deathbed."

"Masturbation isn’t really sex, idiot."

He leaned down and kissed her. "Montgomery isn’t really a great name, idiot too."

"I *like* my name."

"Wanna explore or get naked?"

"Explore. I’m holding a grudge for a while longer. Grudges require closed legs and sarcasm."

"Then we explore." He hopped off the side of the bed and extended his hand. She took it and he lifted her into his arms, holding her against him the way he had done on the dance floor at their reception. "But I’ll make it hard on you. Groveling requires much heavy petting and seduction and I plan to grovel whole heartedly."

She smiled, then noticed something just behind him. "What’s that?" Reaching up, she grasped a cord and tugged it. When nothing happened, she tugged again, then a third time for good measure.

There was a clattering of footsteps in the hallway and then a heavy knock on the door. "Come in," Mark called.

Barnacle pushed the door open, his hands clasped in front of the stiff waistcoat that he wore. His breathing was labored, indicating that he had run. "You rang?"

"Rang?" Addison looked at Mark for explanation and saw the rope still swinging. "Oh! We rang! I’m sorry, Barnacle, it was an accident."

"I see." Barnacle grinned at her. "The only cord that won’t chime is the one that flushes the commode. I used to pull them too, when I first came here. The response time is usually so fast that you wonder if there are secret passageways in this place."

Addison looked at him curiously. "Are there?"

"Aren’t there always?" He winked.

*~*~*~*~

It had been a rough night for Callie. The pain never went away, no matter how strong the narcotics were, it couldn’t erase the agony in her mind. Even when she went to sleep, she hurt, because in her dreams there was alcohol in her hand and she was standing on the ledge of a tall building. Everyone fought valiantly to save her, but Randy stood between them, stopping them from getting too close. It scared her, terrified her, and she kept drinking everything he gave her to take the edge off. And then she was falling, falling, falling and her dream self watched the ground come rushing up with ... relief. She jarred herself awake with a strangled gasp every single time she fell. Someone comforted her each time. Usually Cam, who sat beside the bed in the stiff mauve chair that every private room was equipped with.

Callie didn’t ask for Alex. He wasn’t there and she had little doubt that sanity had finally won and he was at home packing up anything that he had left behind. There was no one to blame but herself, Callie thought, as Cam currently held a straw to her lips and forced her to drink cool water. She had caused her own downfall and orchestrated her own demise. Somewhere behind her, Melana announced that she was going to tell the nurse to bring more pain medication, but Callie said nothing. She didn’t reply when Raphael rubbed her arm or when Loukas asked if she was hungry. Stavros touching her leg forced her to roll onto her side and when the nurse brought in the medication, Callie welcomed the fuzz it added to her troubled brain and pretended to sleep.

Her family was there only because of what happened. They would have already been in Miami had it not been for that. Cam had never, in their entire life, been rough with her unless he was playing and the memory of his hands biting into her arms, of his shouts, his *anger* hurt worse than anything she physically felt at the moment. The same for Raphael. He had used a voice with her that she had only ever heard him use on Stavros and that was because her big brother had cost the family over fifteen million dollars after he ruined a business deal. Melana’s silence after the truth had come out felt like blades against Callie’s skin.

But Alex ... Alex was ashamed of her ... the wife who lied to him, broke her sobriety and that shame prevented him from being there now. He had told her during one of their many heated arguments recently that he couldn’t stomach to look at her ... and he never lied.

The door creaked and Callie’s eyes flew open hopefully. It wasn’t Alex. It was her breakfast tray being brought in. She tried to pretend she was sleeping again, but Cam had seen her and pressed the button to raise the head of the bed. He didn’t bother to ask, he simply unwrapped the fork and held it out to her. She didn’t take it so he lifted her hand and pressed it into her palm, then took the lid off her food, saying, "It’s not negotiable."

The smell turned her stomach and the sight of the runny, watery eggs was enough to have her scrambling to cover the tray again as quickly as she possibly could. "I need to go to the bathroom," she said when the food was hidden.

Cam watched her for a second. "And when you come out ... you’ll eat?"

She nodded and he pulled the rolling table away, leaving it against the wall. He gently tugged the cover off her legs and helped her stand. Callie fought valiantly to hide her discomfort, to keep the pain off her face, but it was impossible. As soon as she put weight on her wounded leg it felt like it was happening all over again. She gritted her teeth and lifted her foot off the floor, reaching for her crutches.

Cam shook his head and easily lifted her. "It hurt your hands to use those last night."

She had no memory of trying and her back and legs ached from where he supported her, but she didn’t remark. It hurt all over. Breathing hurt, moving hurt, thinking hurt ... being hurt. Cam carried her into the bathroom and she noticed that a towel had been hung over the mirror. She didn’t need to wonder why. And no part of her was tempted to see whether or not Randy had kept his promise to destroy her face. She had avoided touching it as well ... because touching it would make it real and so far ... she had managed to convince herself that almost being raped was the least of her problems. She *refused* to acknowledge it had truly happened at all.

She did her business, then felt something flapping against her calf. Moving around the bathroom had caused the tape to break loose from her leg and the bandage was open. She bit her bottom lip when she sat down on the toilet and saw the stitches there. They were nicely done, but the scar would be inevitable. Even Mark, with his capable hands, couldn’t have prevented it.

But she could have.

If only she had fought a little harder ...

She was staring at the wound when someone knocked.

"Cal? You okay?"

It was Alex. The sound of his voice made her forget the pain entirely. He was there! Whether it was obligation or devotion was of little consequence. She hastily pressed against the tape to put it back in place, then cried out when pain laced through her leg. In her haste, she had pressed the tape to the worst of the cut. Alex said her name again, then yanked the door open.

He forced himself to remain impassive, even though seeing her in the stark light of the bathroom was even worse than the previous night. Every inch of her that he could see was bruised, cut, or swollen. He envied Cambyses. He would have loved to be the one to wipe the man who had done it to her off the face of the earth. "Are you -"

"The bandage-"

Alex kneeled in front of her, keeping his hands on his thighs. He peered at the crooked gauze and said, "Can I - is it okay if I -"

"Yeah."

He eased his hand behind her leg and delicately pulled the tape from the wound. When she jumped, he looked up at her. "I’m sorry. I - about everything. I wanted to be here last night, baby, but your mother gave me something that she claimed was a Tylenol because my head was killing me and ... it wasn’t. I fell asleep in the chapel and they put a blanket over me and left me there."

"It’s fine."

"How did you sleep?"

"Not much."

He longed to touch her, but he didn’t think he could handle her pulling away from him again. "Were you in pain or -"

"All over."

"Did they give you something this morning?" he asked.

"Yeah. Can you help me?"

"Always. What do you need?"

"They’re trying to force me to eat. I - I can’t. Not yet. I will, but - I don’t want breakfast." She reached out and flipped his collar down. He was still dressed in his wedding attire, but his tie and jacket had been discarded and his shirt was rolled at the sleeves. "Can you make them stop?"

"You’ll eat lunch?" he asked, the feel of her fingers against his neck filling him with hope.

"I’ll try," she replied. His eyes were puffy, swollen and red. She ran her thumb over the worst of it.

He lightly put his hand over hers, holding it against his cheek. "I’ll have the kitchen send someone to get the tray. Anything else?"

There was so much more she wanted to say. She wanted to apologize, to ask him if he regretted marrying her as much as she thought he did, to beg him not to, to beg him to come home. Instead, she shook her head and the finality of it, of lying to both of them, cut her to the quick. She needed him to hold her, to tell her it would be okay even if they knew better. His shoulder had witnessed many of her tears as she leaned against him for support and she wanted to cry. She wanted to cry for what she had done, what had happened to her, and for the hell of it, but she didn’t move.

Alex got to his feet, startling her, and when he made a move to lift her the same way Cam had done, she instinctively held up her hands, keeping him at bay. "Please ... don’t."

He backed away instantly and sat down on the edge of the tub so that they were eye level. He noted the way her hands shook, the way she avoided his gaze, and took a deep breath. "You can’t ask me to help you halfway, Gothika. Let me in. I know I’m not Cam. I know that I wasn’t there to help you when you needed me the most and I know you’re still pissed at me for everything I said to you, but I’m your husband. And I’m here. And not helping you is killing me so please ... let me."

"You don’t have to."

"I *want* to." He was careful when he lifted her hand in his. "You’re not in this alone. When something happens to you ... I feel it. It happens to me, too. So -"

"I’m sorry ... about drinking. It just -"

"We don’t have to talk about that right now."

She stared into his eyes for a few seconds before she spoke. "I know that you’ve been through hell because of me. I know it’s my fault and ... and you want to leave. I’ll let you leave if that makes you happy, but ... not today. Can you just ... maybe pretend that you’re not going to ... for a while?"

He slipped off the edge of the tub and kneeled down beside her again, this time his hands went to her hips. "Callie, I don’t have to pretend. I love you and I’m not going anywhere. You could drink everything behind the bar at Joe’s and I’m still not budging. I promise you ... I'm here. I'm sorry that it took this to make me realize that *nothing* is worth leaving over."

"At the wedding-"

"I can’t undo what I said to you any more than you can undo the drinking. I can’t change it. I can only say I’m sorry and I didn’t mean it." He took a deep breath as his eyes filled with tears. "I’m not ashamed of you. I’m proud of you. I didn’t know what pride was until I was able to introduce you as my wife. You - you could never shame me, Callie. Never. I’m not gonna lie to you, though. I’m disappointed that you broke your sobriety. I’m sad that it happened and I’m angry that we let ourselves get to the point where you felt like that was an option at all, but I’m not ashamed."

"You don’t have to say tha-"

"Is she okay?" Melana called through the closed door. "Dr. Stevens brought her some fresh pajamas in case she’d like to take a shower."

"Do you want a shower now?" Alex asked.

Callie looked relieved. "Very much."

"Do you want your mom to come in and -"

"Ask Izzie. Or Cristina if she’s here."

"You don’t want me to-"

"No."

Without another word, Alex walked from the bathroom and a moment later, Izzie came in carrying a shopping bag. The blond launched into a story about Halloween decorations that were on sale and then pulled two fluffy towels from the depths of the bag. She laid them on the sink, then produced much better soap and shampoo than the hospital offered. Finally, she grinned at Callie and said, "I know how much you hate pink, but I had to get these for you."

She pulled pink pajamas from the bag and Callie wrinkled her nose until she saw the skulls, roses, and guitars. If you looked past the Pepto Bismol color, they were actually cute. Reaching out, Callie touched the fabric and said, "It’s so soft."

"I have a pair of daffodil ones that I live in." Izzie laid a toothbrush and paste on the sink, then pulled waterproofing tools from the pocket of her lab coat. "We’ll have to bandage your leg a little better. Webber doesn’t want it getting wet."

Callie said nothing as the blond quickly did her job. A memory flashed through Callie mind and she blinked. "You - you ripped your dress and wrapped it around my leg. You were cry-"

"I didn’t like that dress anyway. It made me look like a barn."

"Uhm, Izzie?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you help me with the shower? I - I don’t want Alex to-"

"On it." Izzie pushed the curtain aside and adjusted the taps. When she looked back at the other woman, she put a hand on her shoulder. "It’s not uncommon. To not want your husband or your boyfriend or whatever to be around you after something like this. Because you’re intimate with him. And you think if he sees your body like this then he’ll think of that once the bruises are gone and always remember what happened. You’re hiding it from him to make *him* okay."

"You speaking from experience?"

"No. I watched my mom go through it when I was fourteen."

"I’m sorry."

"You don’t need to be. The water’s ready. Are you?"

Callie let her one time enemy pull her to her feet and untie her gown.

There were tears in Izzie’s eyes when she helped Callie into the shower.

Callie didn’t have to wonder why. She had looked down at her mottled flesh only once.

And it was enough.

*~*~*~*~*~

"She hasn’t cried. Or gotten angry," Stavros said, rubbing his face. Out of the entire Torres family, he was the only one who had gotten any sleep other than Callie. He had dozed upright, sitting in a horrible chair that had no back support, and he could only imagine how everyone else felt. They were running on emotion alone. "Could it be the sedatives?"

"No," Alex replied. "It’s not that strong."

"She’s pretending to be fine for our benefit." Melana leaned her head against Raphael’s shoulder and he put an arm around her. "Alex, is she talking to you? She didn’t really speak to us all night."

Alex shrugged. He was still annoyed that Melana had knocked him out the night before with her happy pill. "A little."

Raphael watched his son in law, weighing his words carefully. "I hate to suggest it, son, but perhaps we should consider rehab."

With a look of undiluted scorn, Alex shook his head. "You want to send her away right now? After this?!"

"Not right away, but eventually. She has a problem, Alex. She has a genuine problem with alcohol and we can’t pretend it doesn’t exist and hope it goes away. She needs treatment and therapy and structure," Raphael told him. "Do you think I want to see her go?"

"I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Being sent into seclusion, away from the people that love you, is not the answer. It’ll just make her feel worse," said Alex. "How can you even consider this?!"

"How can you not?" Raph snapped. "This is her *life* we’re talking about. If going away for a few weeks gives her a new lease on it then it’s worth it."

"What if going away makes her feel like we don’t want to deal with it, Dad?" Cambyses asked. "I say we vote."

"Vote? About your sister’s well being?" Mel asked, disgusted. "It’s not a joke or a -"

"Let’s vote." Getting to his feet, Stavros looked from Loukas to Cam. "All those in favor of sending the baby of the family to an overpriced, horrible clinic in the middle of nowhere that will probably act like she's a prisoner and not let her use the phone unless she cleans the floor with her toothbrush ... raise your hand."

Only Mel and Raph’s hands found the air.

"All those in favor of doing it ourselves?" Stavros added. Callie’s three brothers and her husband raised their hands. Stavros shrugged. "Looks like we’ll be staying in Seattle for a while. Dad, I’m sure you’ll agree that the business can fuck off and die for all we care because some things in life are a little more important."

"Besides," Loukas added when Melana’s claws came out over the swearing. "You pay a staff of highly trained individuals who actually do all the work anyway so it’s not like they’ll miss us."

"Speak for yourself," Cam snapped. "*I* happen to work very hard."

"Since when does playing online Jeopardy count as hard work, jackass?" Stavros demanded. "If all the fake money you had won was real ... you’d be richer than our parents."

"If the piles of blank paperwork that you push around on your desk actually had numbers on them, our parents would probably be a lot richer," Cam shot back.

"Do you really want to go there?" Stavros narrowed his eyes.

"Do you really want to tease the caged animal who just killed a man, Stavros?" Loukas quietly inquired. "Because I don’t advise it. Our baby brother may be the bad ass of the family after all."

The icy look on Cam’s face faded and he started to laugh. "It took killing a piece of shit for you assholes to realize that? Please. I’ve always been bad ass, I’ll always be bad ass and -"

"Is that a rat?" Stavros gasped and pointed at the floor.

Cam emitted a strangled cry and lifted his long legs into the chair, standing up so fast that his head crashed against the ceiling.

"Why did we have children?" Mel rubbed her eyes, exhausted. "Why did we have *these* children?"

"Because someone had to do it," Raphael kissed her temple. Truth be told, he was proud as hell of the men his boys had become with the last ‘vote’.

They would rehabilitate Callie themselves.

They had to.

When their sons left the room in search of food, Melana hugged Alex. "Are you okay?"

"What did you give me last night, Mel?" he said, unable to keep the bite from his voice. "I should have been here!"

"Alex, she couldn’t have handled seeing you like you were. You were beside yourself, making no sense, and -"

"How can anybody make sense right now?" Alex shook his head, then pointed from Raph to Melana. "You two definitely aren’t. Can you imagine what she’d feel like if you told her that you were putting her away somewhere? I can. I can see it. It makes me sick."

Raphael pushed away from the wall and walked closer. "It makes me sick to think that you *left* her for something as trivial as flying and then didn’t see the obvious warning signs that she was breaking again! She’s thin as hell, Alex! And instead of helping her ... you didn’t look back!"

"Stop!" Melana put a hand on her husband’s chest. "He didn’t force her to drink, Raphael."

"He may not have held the bottle, but his actions bought it, Melana. She was doing so well and now she’s back in a hospital bed and we’re here because her *husband* broke her heart." Raphael took another step closer to Alex. "You are nothing like George O’Malley so stop channeling him."

The bathroom door opening silenced Alex’s reply, which he would have regretted anyway. Izzie peered out at them and said, "Alex, can you go and tell the nurse to bring me both medications that Webber ordered, but to bump up the Valium three milligrams?"

"Why?" Alex asked, heading toward the bathroom door. "Is she -"

"Now," Izzie said. "Seriously."

Alex did as requested, but brought the two injections himself when Olivia said it would be a few minutes. He knocked on the door and Izzie opened it a fraction of an inch, holding out her hand. "Thanks."

"Let me in," he demanded.

"Just give me a second." She took the medication from him and disappeared.

"What does it mean? Three milligrams?" Raph asked, joining his son in law.

"It’s a higher dosage of the sedative," Alex replied, leaning his head against the door. He could hear Izzie saying something in a soft voice, but Callie made no sound. "I never meant to hurt her. I swear to God I never dreamed this could happen. Any of it."

Raphael put a hand on Alex's shoulder, tugging him around to face him, then hugged him. "It would appear that you and I share a horrible habit of speaking before we think. My apologies."

Alex started to reply, but Callie made the most horrible, gut twisting sound he’d ever heard and the men pulled apart, both reaching for the door handle at the same time.

Izzie opened it so fast that she hit them both. "Alex-"

He darted past her. Callie was fully dressed in her new pajamas and was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her face in her hands. She sobbed, harsh and loud, and Alex straddled the rim of the tub, pulling her against his chest. He looked at Izzie, who simply pointed at the mirror, which was no longer covered. "Callie?"

"Look at what he did to me!" Callie cried, her face still in her hands. "Why? WHY!? Why did -"

"Shhh, it’s okay."

Callie’s sobs grew harsher still. "I never believed it. I said it couldn’t happen to me. I said it. Alex - I was pissed when my dad put a guard in the woods and ... I even joked that he thought rapists were hiding behind every tree and ..."

"You’re safe now." He kissed her head, rocking slightly. "We’re all here."

"I - I can’t ... breathe. Why did he do this? Why? I - I hate it!"

Izzie pulled the cap off the syringe. Callie had refused it moments before, but she had to try again. Reaching for her arm, she adjusted the IV and injected the valium first, then the pain medication. She knew it burned because Callie’s sobs intensified and the black haired woman reached up a hand to stop her, but Alex caught it. "I’m sorry," Izzie whispered. "She moved the towel before I could stop her."

Alex nodded. Izzie hurried out of the room and he pulled his wife a little closer. It felt like an eternity before she quieted. He welcomed the outburst, though, because it meant that she had accepted it. When she eventually sat up and looked at him, her eyes were glassy. "Can I-" he began.

"I feel it."

"You’re still in pain?"

"No." She shook her head. "For the first time in my life ... I really feel it."

"What do you feel, baby?"

"Fear."

"I’ve got you." He saw her wobble and lunged, catching her before she could fall back. Wordlessly, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Melana quickly jerked the cover down and waited for him to lower her, but he held on for a few seconds, his head against hers. When he finally set her on the bed, she clutched the front of his shirt and said, "I want to go home."

"I think they’re releasing you today. Tomorrow at the latest," he assured her. "That’s what the Chief said last night."

"Stay with me."

Alex didn’t have to be asked twice.

He climbed into the bed beside her and clung to her as she curled into him and fell asleep.

They let her go at six that evening. Chief Webber didn’t want to, but Melana begged him and he caved like a house of cards when she turned her big, brown tear filled eyes on him. He had strict orders about Callie's leg and the medications he was prescribing. Alex signed the paperwork and lifted Callie into the wheelchair while Blake, who had arrived just before three that afternoon, gathered the many get well cards and bouquets of flowers. Callie quietly told her brother’s boyfriend to donate the flowers to other patients.

Dr. Bailey had stopped in on her day off to see how Callie was doing and she cleared the hallway for her friend, warning the staff to make themselves scarce as Callie was wheeled to the elevator and then into the crisp, cool, night where Alex’s SUV had been pulled around by Stavros. Most of the staff, however, had their faces pressed to the glass in the front lobby and they all waved when Callie glanced back at the hospital. She didn’t seem to notice.

Alex climbed into the driver’s seat and smiled at her. "I know you never get tired of hearing it ... so here goes. Put your seatbelt on."

She tried to do just that, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Her muscles protested and she groaned. Stavros, who was riding behind her, reached around the seat and handed it to Alex, who fastened it. "Let’s go home, baby," he told her with a smile.

Alex put the car in drive, his hand resting against the gear shifter.

A moment later, she put hers on top of his and said, "Don’t drive fast."

When they finally pulled into the garage, Callie was shaking. Alex doubted she was cold. The interior of his Mercedes was warm and comfortable and his driving couldn't have startled her. Never, since he had known her, had she ever asked him to not drive fast. She was always the one threatening to take over if he dropped below sixty. He let Cambyses take control of getting her into the house while he confirmed with his mother that she had brought his luggage back home. She nodded and said his clothes were in his closet where they belonged and that she had cooked dinner. She had been out of town with Leon when Alex got in touch with her to let her know what happened and she headed straight back with Leon in tow.


The big bodyguard seemed smaller than usual when he saw Callie’s face. It was just a brief glimpse, but it was enough to sag his shoulders and send him walking back to the guard shack with his head downcast. After talking to Callie briefly, Irene headed to the guard shack as well. Some things just hit a little too close to home for her and she didn’t want her daughter in law to see her fall apart. Irene’s face had looked the same on many, many occasions thanks to Alex’s father and she *understood* why Callie seemed to shy away from anyone seeing her. The black haired woman had not met her gaze once.

Cambyses carried Callie to her bed and smiled at her. "I think I smell lasagna. Do you want me to get your husband to dress as a French Maid and bring it to you on a gold platter or do you want to eat with us?"

"Mostly I want to sleep," she replied, glancing at the closet door which was ajar. Her gaze lingered on it, feeling exposed, like someone was lurking inside to watch her.

Cam followed her gaze and cleared his throat. "Remember when we were kids and I was convinced that there was a monster in the closet? You always came and checked it out so I feel duty bound to return the favor."

She watched as he opened her closet, then Alex’s and flipped the light on in both. Her heart almost stopped completely when she saw that Alex’s things were back in place. Cam shut both doors all the way and walked into the bathroom for good measure. "No ghosts on the coast," he said, using the phrase she had always used at their beach house, which Cam was convinced had spirits in every room.

"Can you make sure someone sets the alarm?"

Cam sat beside her on the bed. "Sure."

"And - check all the doors. I - I think maybe the window in the kitchen is unlatched and - well, there's a screen, but you should check it."

Cam brushed her hair back. Because she had fallen asleep with it wet, she had out of control curls all over her head. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?"

He nodded. "I’m perfectly fine."

Callie looked at the bandage on his cheek. "Is it bad? The cut?"

"It gives me character." Cam shrugged. "I haven’t seen it yet, but Blake did and he told me it was sexy so I guess it adds to the whole criminal mystique I’ve got going now. Just call me The Punisher."

"H - how did you kill him?"

"Well, after he messed up my gorgeous sister and my even more gorgeous face ... I took his knife and thought about shoving it up his ass for two seconds ... but I picked his heart instead. It was pretty hard to find all things considered, but I didn’t miss."

"I’m sorry you had to - that any of it -"

"Do you remember Kevin Salchel? Sixth grade. He beat me up during P.E. and you saw it from the window of your classroom and came running. It took two teachers *and* me to get you off him and his parents sued ours because you broke his nose. *That* Kevin Salchel."

"Oh, right. Oops." A hint of a smile flashed across her face. "Little bastard."

"I told you I’d pay you back one day." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "The cops said that this guy had just been paroled about three weeks ago. He was convicted of assault of battery, attempted rape, and kidnapping when he was nineteen and served fifteen years for it. They said he spent most of his time in jail lifting weights and fooling everybody into believing he was reformed."

"The cops will want to talk to me soon, won’t they?"

"I think Mom told them to come tomorrow. They’ve been hanging around at the hospital."

Melana came into the room carrying a tray of food. She set it on the foot of the bed and told Cambyses to leave. He rolled his eyes heavenward and smirked at Callie, who braced herself for whatever Melana would say to her as Cam complied and left the room. "Mom-"

"I didn’t sleep on the plane flying out. And I didn’t sleep last night either, mi vida." Mel chopped the salad on the tray a little finer. "And I’m exhausted. I want to go to bed, but I can’t do that until I know that you’ve eaten this and -"

Callie reached across the bed and pulled the tray closer, lifting the fork. She took a bite of the salad and chewed slowly. Melana sat down and handed her the knife she had been using to cut the lettuce. Neither spoke for a few minutes. Callie was halfway through the lasagna when her mother cleared her throat. "Calliope?"

"Hmm?"

"Did he - how far did he get with you?"

Wiping her mouth with her napkin, Callie revisited the encounter with Randy, forcing herself to recall every moment of it. She felt his arms around her, the top of her dress being yanked down and calloused hands groping at her flesh, and then ... those same hands trying to move under her dress. "Not too far," she said finally, putting her fork back on the tray.

"Oh, baby, don’t stop eating." Melana pushed her plate a little closer. "We can talk about something else."

"Have you heard from Addison?" Callie asked, lifting the fork again.

"Not yet. Your Uncle Demi said they got there okay and were pleased with the accommodations."

"Don’t tell her anything about what happened."

"She’ll be upset if -"

"She’ll come home and I don’t need anyone else to look at me like I’m ... just don’t tell her."

"Look at you like you’re what, Callie?"

Alex arrived carrying Callie’s prescriptions. Loukas had stopped to get it filled and had just gotten back, grumbling about the wait at the pharmacy. Alex glanced at his wife’s half eaten food, but didn’t comment. Instead, he said, "Are you in any pain?"

"I don’t want that right now," she replied. "I hate the way it feels."

"Okay." He put the bag on the end table and eased down beside her. "Your dad is sound asleep on the sofa. I’m surprised you can’t hear him snoring up here."

And just like that ... with no warning or obvious reason ... Callie burst into tears again.

She took the sedative without complaint after that, but not before she used her crutches to check the windows and doors herself.

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 5
True to his word, Mark groveled enough that Addison got her wedding night on five separate occasions before the sun set on their first day in Greece. She wasn’t sure if it was the newlywed joy that propelled Mark, but whatever it was, she hoped it never faded because sex had never been so good and Mark had never been so hell bent on cuddling afterward. It wasn’t until Addison saw one of the housekeepers using Windex to clean the perfect outline of her ass and Mark’s palms off the glass floor of the balcony that she put a stop to it. She told him that they would not being doing it again until that night ... then promptly repeated their brazen sex on the bathroom counter before they were summoned to dinner.


The first days in Greece flew by. There was so much to see and do. Despite the large staff, they rarely saw any of them as they walked through Bounty’s Keep, learning her many hiding places and secret rooms. They attempted to watch a movie the third day, then decided that walking the grounds would be better. When Barnacle heard their intentions, he had two palomino stallions saddled and waiting for them in the yard. Addison smiled when she saw the one she would be riding. It’s coat matched her bridesmaid dresses. They didn’t stray far from the house, but since the house was so large and the tallest spire could be seen for miles, they went far enough to be sore for two days. Of course, it didn’t help that they had sex on one of the horse’s backs, but they both enjoyed it and the horses didn’t seem to think it was strange at all.

Greece was everything that Melana had promised it would be and after they toured the Parthenon on their fifth day, Addison called Callie’s cell phone again. This time it went straight to voice mail and Addison reminded her friend that she missed her and wanted to hear her voice. She tried Alex’s cell and even Cam’s to no avail. Frustrated, she vented to Mark, who had plenty of ways to take her mind off being homesick. He had her pinned against the wall and was working his way under her skirt when she accidentally kicked over an umbrella stand. The bookcase to her right opened at once and she froze as a gust of cold air lifted her dress for Mark.

"What the hell?" He took a step back, gazing at the hidden passage. "Why do I suddenly feel like a cartoon dog is going to come running out screaming ‘ruh roh’?"

Addison pulled her belt back into place and peered around his shoulder. "You go first."

"Go? Did you just say go?"

"You’re the big bad ... defender of your name or whatever. In the old days the men went first."

"We’re modern, remember? That means that *you* can go first and I can enjoy your ass while you walk in front of me." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Sex in a strange secret passage could be fun."

"Or we could get locked in and never be heard from again. Where’s my cell phone? Do you think they have 911 here?"

"Do you really think you’ll get reception?" He held out his hand to her and took a tentative step toward the door. "Where do you think it goes?"

"Wait. I saw a flashlight in the bureau." Addison rushed across the room and dug the flashlight from the depths of the drawer, flipping it on and shining it in her husband’s eyes for good measure.

"Now I’m seeing spots. How can I protect you if I can’t see you?"

"Will you just go?"

"Sure, send the blind man in first."

The chamber they walked into was narrow and dead ended into Melana’s old room. There was only one way to go and judging by the sloping floor, that way was down. There were torches along the wall that were covered in spiderwebs and none were lit. It felt like walking back in time and Addison freaked herself out when she considered all the people who may have walked the path before her ... and died. Maybe even doing it. She glanced behind her, clinging to the belt loops in the back of Mark’s pants, and promptly stumbled over her feet, getting a face full of spider web for her troubles.

Before she could scream like she wanted, he clapped a hand over her mouth and wrenched her back to her feet. "Shhh, listen."

Addison stopped flailing her hands around her face to remove the web and barely breathed. There were voices up ahead and she gulped. "Let’s go back."

"No. Come on." He took her hand and pulled her along behind him.

They rounded two more corners, still going downward, and then the aroma of food was overpowering and Addison felt her stomach rumble in anticipation. Light spilled through the stone wall and Mark stepped closer, peering through one of the minute cracks that were probably naked to the eye from the other side. "It’s the kitchen," he whispered.

Addison found a sliver of light to peer through and smiled when she saw Willa enjoying the Baclava that the head chef, Saunders, was preparing. She heard the old man admonish the woman and snickered into her palm when he slapped her hand and wagged a long, bony finger in her face. Willa pretended to bite it then clawed at her neck, tugging the turned down collar of her uniform. "I’ll not be sending Melana a care package this year. What was she meaning? Sending us such horrible attire?"

Saunders snorted. "Try wearing this thing?" He pointed at the tall hat perched on his head. "I cook! I don’t need to wear this! The food proves it!"

"Barny’s miserable," Willa replied, then she smiled devilishly and tossed a dish towel at Saunders, knocking his hat off.

The man’s shock of white hair stood up on end and he advanced on the woman, putting his hands on either side of her against the counter. Lowering his head, he kissed her, then stood and said, "Hmmm, perhaps the Baclava is too sweet."

"No, it was perfect," Willa told him, reaching for another.

He smiled as he watched her bite into it. "Then it must be you."

Behind the wall, Addison whispered, "Awwww!"

"I was thinking ‘ew’," Mark said, grabbing her hand as Saunders moved in for another kiss that involved inappropriate touching and the collar of Willa’s uncomfortable uniform being pulled away from her neck.

"I told you that sixty year old sex would turn you off," Addison replied, smiling.

"Watching it turns me off. Doing it is another story."

"Did you have sex with a geriatric already!?"

"She was the hottest old bird you’ve ever seen," he shot back, leading her further and further down the sloping passage.

Voices could be heard periodically and they paused every time to peer out when it was available to gauge their bearings. They passed the blue room, which was being vacuumed and then the library, where two gardeners were arguing over something in a book that dealt with flowers. Barnacle was in the theater, unloading a shipment of new movies, and he was singing at the top of his lungs because of the acoustics. Even the acoustics couldn’t save him however ... his voice was like a dying frog, but the enthusiasm with which it was delivered was infectious.

The tunnel eventually lost all light and sound and relied only on the beam from the flashlight in Mark’s hand. The floor sloped so deeply now that Addison’s toes ached from walking on them in her already high heels. Only the promise of seeing where the passage led kept her quiet, but she made a mental note to wear better shoes when prowling in strange places. The air against her bare legs eventually become icy and she shivered, still clinging to Mark’s pants.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No, Mark. We can only see our breath."

"How can you see *anything*. You’re so far up my ass I’m bowlegged."

"Kinky, Dr. Sloan," she replied. Peering around him, she gasped when she saw a flash of gold light. "Turn it off."

"Turn my ass off?"

"No, goober! The light!" When he didn’t respond right away, she reached around him and flipped the switch, the pointed at the prism of colors just ahead.

He put his arm around her as they moved forward together. The passageway widened and then they stepped under a rock canopy that had crevices all around that spilled sunlight into the cavern. "I hear water," Mark said, walking down the slope.

They realized a moment later that they were standing in a grotto. The sparkling blue water was clear and Addison practically leaped onto her husband’s back when she saw an eel dart out to catch a small fish just below the surface. "Oh my god!"

"Look at that," Mark pointed to the left, where an opening in the rock would allow a large vessel to come through easily. "I think we know why they call it Bounty’s Keep now. I bet this place was the go to hideout for smuggled goods back in the swashbuckling days."

"Clever, but not quite."

Addison and Mark both turned at the sound of the voice. She moved behind him, peering out, hoping that Mark could use the flashlight like a baton if he needed to. The man who stood before them looked like Loukas, Callie’s brother. He had the same unfortunate cowlick in the front of his hair, which was clipped short, and he wore round glasses. "Forgive me," he said, extending his hand to Mark, who clasped it. "I’m Xenos Karakas. I see you’ve discovered one of the servant’s walks."

"We’re sorry," Addison replied. "We weren’t snooping -"

"Please, snoop away. Bounty’s Keep was built for it." Xenos took her hand, kissing it, then pointed at the large opening that had commanded Mark’s attention. "We did act as a hideout for smuggled goods, but we dealt in people ... the best bounty the Lord provides. During the Greek Revolution in the early eighteen hundreds many women and children were smuggled out of the heaviest war zones and brought here. The practice stopped after a ship capsized right about there and the tide came in, drowning over forty of the evacuees. One of the survivors, a woman who lost her only son in the tragedy, is said to have cursed the Karakas name, demanding that we only have sons in our family for retribution. And for the most part ... it stuck. Both Melana and Calliope are untamable spirits and they often run into bad luck. Perhaps it’s happenstance, but our ancestors spoke of the curse with conviction."

Addison felt a new chill rush through her. The sense of foreboding she had experienced where Callie was concerned came rushing back. "What happened to the woman who cursed you?"

Xenos shook his head. "Because of her grief, she was given the grandest of accommodations, but she slept here for only one night. The glass balcony that you have hopefully seen used to be a simple stone ledge. She climbed to the top of it as the sun rose on her second childless day and leapt to her death. For years that ledge was boarded and no one could access it. My grand papa had the glass one built to remind us all that even when it feels like walking on air is possible, you need something there to support you. I believe his design was replicated in your states where the Canyon of Grand is."

Addison smiled. "I think you’re right. I’ve heard about the sky walk there."

"Would you like to see more of the island?" Xenos offered. "My boat is just around the corner. I was taking photographs when I heard your voices. I was on my way upstairs to introduce myself, but the light reflecting off the water caught my eye and demanded to be captured."

"It is beautiful." Mark stepped down off a ledge and reached up, grasping Addison around the waist and lifting her down. He gave her a kiss before he put her back on her feet and smiled shyly at the other man. "Sorry."

"If you don’t enjoy every moment then you’ll die with regret." Xenos winked at him, then led the way around a curved outcropping, reaching behind him to extend his arm to Addison. "Please, ma’am, it’s tedious here."

She clung to the man, letting him held her across a wooden plank. The sparkling white ski boat was a shock in such an untouched and old piece of history, but her feet welcomed the promise of being seated for a while. As soon as the man helped her onto the pristine leather seat, she kicked her shoes off and massaged her feet. Xenos helped Mark in and turned to watch her. "Whoever designed those torture devices called high heels was apparently related to the woman who cursed our family as well. They’ve cursed all women to sore feet. Perhaps when I show you talking rock, you’d like to wade in the healing spring. It’s said to not only cure what physically ails you, but it allegedly gives you insight and a sixth sense as well."

"Have you waded in it?" Addison asked with interest.

"Many times." Xenos didn’t elaborate. He simply started the engine and led them out into the sparkling sunlight, which was blinding after the shelter of the grotto.

Having a tour guide without the tourists was an amazing thing. He was knowledgeable and funny and so engaging that Addison’s sides were aching by the time they docked at Talking Rock. Because there was so much sand, she carried her shoes in her hand and enjoyed the walk from the beach to the old homestead. It was in ruins, mostly a hollow shell, but it captivated her anyway. Her legs felt warm as she dug her toes into the earth and when Xenos suggested that they pose for photos in front of the praying hand rock, she readily agreed. He snapped photo after photo of the two of them, urging them on poses, on how best to use the light.

When they finally made it to the healing spring, Xenos lifted a wooden handled cup and rinsed it, then filled it with the water that was trickling over a small waterfall and held it out. "You’ll never taste anything as pure."

Addison tried it first, her eyes widening. The water was mouth numbing cold and she wondered how it wasn’t frozen. The oddest part, however, was how quickly it warmed her insides. As she watched Mark drink, she could tell that he was experiencing the same thing. Xenos drank last and set the cup back onto its rocky perch. "I’d offer you more," he said, "but greed would cause it to dry up. Please, Addison, you’re already barefoot. Step into the water and see if it helps."

"It’s cold." She shook her head. "I’ll get frostbite."

"Not at all," he replied, reaching down to the touch the shallow water that had been collected in a pond. "It remains a steady eighty eight degrees year round."

"How?" Mark asked, mimicking the other man and touching for himself. "Whoa. Uh, how?"

"When you are specific in your needs and prayers," Xenos stated, glancing skyward, "someone always listens." He extended his hand to Addison and nodded at the pond, watching as she stepped into the water. When she gasped, he squeezed her hand and smiled. "I daresay your feet will not bother you for the remainder of your trip."

She stared down at her wiggling toes. It felt like she was having the best foot massage of her life and none of it made sense. She was a woman of science, a woman of medicine, and water was only ever water ... but *this* water made her believe that anything in the world was possible. She knew that Mark would scoff and not pull his shoes off to try it himself, but Willa had said that they could use the boats and she decided then and there that she’d bring her husband back before they left Greece.

"Close your eyes," Xenos urged. "Close them, breathe deep and tell me what you see."

Addison did as he asked, not missing the amused look on Mark’s face. She breathed in and saw Callie. The smile on her own face fell fast as her heart flipped over and panic raced through her. Her eyes flew open again and she gazed at their host. "I - have you heard from Callie?"

Xenos shook his head. "Why?"

"Because I saw her."

"And how do you feel?"

"Scared." Addison stepped out of the water and pulled her phone from her pocket. She opened it and saw that there was no signal. "Xenos, I hate to ask, but would it be okay to make a long distance call from the main house?"

"Absolutely." Xenos looked from Addison to the water, which was still rippling from her hasty exit. "Perhaps you’d like to make that call right now."

"I would."

Mark waited until they were situated on the boat again to lean against her and say, "Okay, now you’re the old fashioned one. Tell me you don’t believe in healing water or visions or whatever."

"What I believe is that something’s wrong with Callie. I’ve been feeling it since before we even left the airport and no one is answering my calls."

*~*~*~*~

Just as Cambyses had predicted, the police arrived on Callie’s first morning home and demanded to speak with her. She sat on the sofa and answered their questions honestly. When they asked her if she had ever seen Randall ‘Randy’ McFry before the day of the attack, she confirmed that she had and confessed that he had bought her a drink at Ray’s Steakhouse. Beside her, she saw Alex’s jaw tighten and hastily added that she had not spoken with him or acknowledged him beyond a tilt of her head, but he had remembered her and approached her at the wedding because of that. She found her receipt for dinner in her purse and gave them the server’s name who had assisted her that night so that she could confirm Callie’s story if need be.

The police officer’s waved the notion away, saying that several women had come forward after the news story about Randy’s death with a similar tale. Apparently, since his parole, McFry had been buying drinks for many women in the hopes of earning their trust. The victim he had attacked at nineteen had fallen prey to the same method of operation, accepting dinner and then making the mistake of getting into his car. The officers asked tough questions about the attack, about what led up to it, and then assured Callie that her statement was the final piece needed to close the case entirely. Randall McFry, they said, would stay dead and buried and bother no one again.

Reliving it took its toll on Callie and once again, she fell apart. Alex alone knew how horribly she had slept the previous night. Any time the house creaked from settling or someone walked down the hallway to the bathroom, she sat upright and gripped his arm. More often than not, she remained in a sitting position until there wasn’t a sound, and only then would she curl up in his arms, her hand fisted in the front of his shirt. When they awoke that morning, she was dripping with sweat and her pillow was drenched with tears. Alex had offered to help her into the shower, but she dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. Cristina and Burke visited that night and it was Cristina who helped her bathe and change into fresh pajamas and Cristina who appeared nightly to repeat the task.

As the week progressed, Callie began to lapse into longer and longer periods of silence, allowing only Gucci, Melana’s service monkey, to touch her. She would sit quietly on the bench in the sunroom connected to the master bedroom, with her back pressed firmly into the corner and stare out at Whisper Cove for hours, while Gucci tried to touch every bruise and scratch. When Cam asked her why she wanted to sit there, she said that it let her see anything that may be coming. He told her the only things in the woods were birds and probably rats, but she didn’t budge. She sat. She watched. And she waited ... for what, no one was sure, but the fact that she gazed, unblinking it seemed at times, appeared to be in anticipation. Or dread. And every night she checked the doors, window, and alarm ... and she made sure that the flood lights outside were on at all times.

The fifth day after the attack found Callie once again sitting in the sunroom, gazing out at the bright horizon while she rolled Gucci’s marble on the floor. The capuchin monkey raced back and forth for it, returning to stand before Callie and hold it out in his palm. Melana sat beside her with a cup of coffee in her hand. Somewhere in the house a phone rang and Callie jumped, dropping her own cup into the floor. It was thankfully empty and didn’t shatter, but Mel shattered enough to make up for it when Gucci lifted the cup, tugged Callie’s robe, and held it up to her. She began to cry when she saw her daughter’s wild eyed expression and as valiantly as Melana tried to control herself, should couldn’t. Callie didn’t look at her, she simply reached over and took her hand. "Do you think this will stop. One day?"

"What? Will what stop?" Melana asked, her voice trembling as hard as her chin.

"I forgot what it feels like to be okay ... to feel calm or at ease." Callie shook her head, lifting Gucci into her lap. "He didn’t rape me, Mom. He killed me. I’m gone. I feel like I’m not here anymore and ... I’m a stranger in my own skin. I don’t even look like me anymore."

"You look the same to me." Melana put an arm around her. It was a lie. The redness in Callie’s eye had not gone away and neither had the bruises. They were still just as shocking, just as painful to look at as they had been the first night. And while they would eventually fade, everyone knew that they were indelibly inked like a regrettable tattoo on the souls of everyone who had seen them. Especially Callie. "And there will come a day where you will bury this pain and it will only haunt you when you let it. Time does that, honey. It does."

Cambyses walked into the sunroom, took one look at his mother, and sat beside her, hugging her. "Addison called again. That’s the fourth one this morning. She said they’re coming home if she doesn’t get to talk to Callie soon. She knows that something’s up and ... well, we should either tell her or -"

"No." Callie shook her head and Gucci burrowed against her, flopping onto his back and stretching out. She watched the little primate put his marble in the pocket of his overalls, then he closed his eyes, boneless and exhausted from playing all morning. "I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her I’m fine and ... I’ll make her believe it."

"She would want to be here, Callie. You know she would," Cam stated.

"She’s the only person," Callie said, her eyes filling with tears, "who doesn’t know what I did. She has no clue that I had anything to drink and the moment she comes home she’s going to find out and she’s going to be as upset as everyone else. I need to know that there’s someone still out there who isn’t disappointed in me ... because right now she’s not and I need her to not be for a little while longer."

Cam watched her wipe the tears off her face before he spoke. "I’m not disappointed."

"Yeah, right," Callie replied with a sniffle.

"You know what the great thing is about our family?" Melana asked, pulling her a little closer. "We’re all too damn temperamental, except me and when my temper flares up there’s a good reason behind it, but all of our tantrums are usually like a match. They fire up and burn out so fast that they’ve come and gone in the blink of an eye."

"Mom," Cam interjected. "Your temper tantrums can, on occasion, last for weeks. Or in my gay case ... for years."

"Shut up before I drown you in the hot tub," Mel told him. "The point that I am making is that we run the gamut of emotions with each other. We get angry, sad, annoyed and yes, Calliope, disappointed, but all of that is consumed by an even bigger flame. Our love. That’s the only torch you can’t put out and the only fire that will rage for an eternity. And it’s that love that makes what you did by drinking again seem very small in the grand scheme of things."

"Daaaaamn," Cam said, impressed. "Mama’s got mad wisdom, yo."

"Did you just say ‘yo’," Callie asked. "Are you Gothic or gangster? You can’t pull them both off, Cambyses."

"I’m *gay*. And apparently I can get away with murder."

Callie belly laughed. It was a sweet, tinkling sound that dried Melana’s tears instantly and filled her with a renewed hope that time was already working wonders on her daughter’s pain.

Raphael and Alex, who had been listening just inside the bedroom door, looked at each other and grinned. In a low voice, Alex said, "Have you ever heard anything better?"

"Her first cry," Raphael replied. "But this is a close second."

*~*~*~*~*~

"Hello?" Addison said, her voice full of exasperation as she picked up the phone in the blue sitting room. "Calliope Iphigenia Karev, is that you?!"

"Oooh, full name service. I’m in trouble," Callie replied, working hard to sound upbeat and playful. "Do you love Bounty’s Keep?"

"Where have you been? It’s been *five* days and I’ve left twice that many messages for you. Something happened, didn’t it?"

"Naturally. I have the worst luck. I’m fine so don’t freak out ... I went head first down the stairs at the church and ... it’s your fault because of those idiotic shoes you made us wear ... but I’m okay. Nothing’s broken, but I did get a nice big prescription of hydromorphone for the trouble so I’m home recovering and being high."

"Why would you need something that strong after a fall?"

"Did you *see* the staircase at the church? It was so tall that I exhausted my entire library of swear words by the time I landed at the bottom."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Addison, are you going to spill the beans about your honeymoon or what!? How long did it take you guys to enjoy the glass balcony?"

"What makes you think we did that?!" Addison cried. "Okay, fine, maybe two hours."

"The glass will capture *everything* so take something to wipe your imprint off or everyone will know."

"*Now* you tell me. Yeah, I found that out the hard way. And how do *you* know!?"

"Have you met Eros yet?"

"Eros? Wait, the masseuse? The one with the six pack that’s more like a twelve, the butt that you could bounce a quarter off of and the magic fingers that rubbed all the tension from my body? That Eros?"

"That’s the one." Callie chuckled. "Tell him I said ‘hi’."

"Oh my god! You slept with the hired help!? How *old* were you?"

"Too young too care. Are you having fun?"

"Your uncles are fantastic! Xenos took me to the healing spring and let me get in."

"Were you hurt?" Callie asked, concerned.

"My feet were. I walked through the secret passageway in high heels. And the grotto? Amazing."

"There are tons of eels in there so don’t go skinny dipping. Mark’s dangly parts may not dangle so prettily if you do."

"Like *anything* could make *that* ugly." Addison laughed when her friend groaned. "As much as I love it here ... I can’t wait to come home. I miss you. How are things with Alex?"

"Better," Callie told her, glancing at Alex who was sitting nearby talking to Cam.

"I bet you’re having more sex than me and that’s saying something."

"High as a kite, remember?"

"Oh, right. Are you mangled?"

"You could say that." With a sigh that caused her ribs to ache, Callie added, "And I miss you, too, by the way. Maybe when you get back we can take a long weekend and get the hell out of town. I need it."

"Count me in. Listen, Demi just got here. He was either flying us to Egypt tonight or the airstrip to come home. I was heading back to the states because I was so worried about you. Do you know ... when I waded in the healing spring ... I saw you."

Callie swallowed back the lump in her throat. "Maybe you were sending me a little healing, too. Tell Uncle Xenos to send me some of the water, okay? I’ll add it to my bath and see if it helps."

"I’ll get it myself," Addison told her. "We’re going back tomorrow."

"That’s *hallowed* ground, Addison. *Hallowed*. Try not to bring any of it across the water in your ass crack. Do *not* have sex there."

"Why not?"

"Because it’s very *fertile* land and every seed that gets planted there multiplies."

"Huh?"

"Just don’t do it."

"You’re a freak." Addison chuckled. "Happy Birthday, by the way. It’s already the thirty first here. Your present should arrive tomorrow. I’m there in spirit, okay?"

"You’re damn right you are," Callie replied. "I love you."

"I love you back. See ya soon."

They said their goodbyes and hung up. In Greece, Addison clapped her hands together and announced that Callie was fine, grabbed her bag, and headed to the helicopter that was waiting in the yard.

In Seattle, everyone watched as Callie got to her feet and gingerly walked out of the room. Cambyses shook his head and said, "She’s a good actress. Too damn good."

Alex nodded as Raphael followed after Callie, then he crossed his arms over his chest. "Who the hell is Eros?"

"First guy she ever slept with," Cam replied. "He worked for our uncle and -"

"WHAT!?" Melana screeched, rushing out of the kitchen like a mad woman. "She - he - are you - Eros!?"

"She was nineteen, Mother," Stavros interjected. "But believe me, when I looked up and saw them on the glass balcony ... I made him pay. I kicked his ass every single time I caught them after that."

"More than once!?" Melana crossed herself, praying in Greek. When she was finished, she glared at her children, including Blake and Alex. "Is it so difficult to abstain before marriage? Is it? Really?"

"Well, it is for me," Cam told her. "I can’t *get* married. Still gay and all."

"And really, Mom," Loukas, who was usually so quiet that you never knew he was there, said. "If Callie had waited until marriage ... her first encounter with sex would have been George O’Malley and ... that may have turned *her* gay or forced her into celibacy."

"And Eros? So hot," Blake cut in. "So, so hot."

"Watch it," Cambyses replied, then narrowed his eyes. "You didn’t really have back pain in Greece, did you? You were faking so he’d keep giving you massages and - I have a thirst for killing now, Blake. Don’t go there."

Blake laughed. "I’ll behave, Murder One."

"Do not joke about that!" Melana chided. "Even though the dead man is a son of a bitching asshole who not only had it coming ... but should have clung to life a little while longer to let *me* smother him with a pillow ... soaked in acid."

Alex watched Mel walk back into the kitchen with a new sense of wonder and awe where she was concerned. That faded when he looked back at the others. "But why does this Eros guy still work there?" he said. "I mean, he clearly took advantage of a young, naive girl and -"

"Oh my god, Alex. Did you have to take advantage of my sister?" Cam asked.

Alex turned bright red as he thought back to their first sexual encounter. They had argued on Goon Docks about whether or not she was ready for a relationship with him and she had taken control, leading him to the hot tub where she not only called the shots, she rocked his world harder than any woman ever had before.

"Yeah," Cam added, smirking when Alex looked at the floor. "I can see that you see my point."

"And don’t think anything of her telling Addison to say hello," Blake suggested. "Because I have called more than once to do just that."

Cambyses shot to his feet, rushing after Blake who flew out the front door screaming with laughter.

*~

The Great Pyramids of Egypt were so impressive that there were simply no words to describe it. Viewing them in silence seemed to be the best thing anyway because the lump in Addison’s throat ... for reasons she didn’t fully understand ... made it impossible to talk. Mark was also in awe and simply clung to her hand, trying to see everything at once. They had only set aside one full day to spend in Egypt, but two nights, having arrived the night before. Halloween at the Giza Plateau was amazing and Addison took photos of Mark in front of the most impressive pyramid and sent Callie a happy birthday greeting via cell phone.

Demi had work to attend with the Karakas Enterprise branch in Cairo and did not join them for the day so Addison and Mark soaked in so much culture that they were exhausted for the ride back to Greece. That night, they showered together, watching as the water turned red from the pyramid sand. Addison chuckled and told Mark what Callie had said about bringing sand back from Talking Rock in her ass crack. He decided that they would try to do just that the following day.

After they were clean, they retired to the bedroom where they both lay exhausted. They looked at one another for a while, then Addison laughed. "I can’t have sex tonight. That camel ride? Horrible."

"Tell me about it. I think I’m chafed."

"What the hell will we do until we fall asleep?"

Mark smiled at her. "We could *talk*."

"I’m not talking about my last name again."

"Okay," he replied. "Then we could talk about the fact that I moved the lamp while you were drying your hair and that little painting right there opened up to reveal a vault with no lock."

Addison looked behind her where he indicated and gasped when she saw that the framed painting was slightly ajar. "Intriguing."

"What’s intriguing is that there are two books inside and a ton of letters."

"To who?"

"Melana. From Raphael."

"You read them?!"

"You don’t have that much hair, baby. No, I didn’t read them. I read the front of the top envelope."

Addison pushed herself upright in the bed. "Maybe we should take them to her when we go back."

"If she wanted them she’d have them. The two books look like diaries."

"Should we look?"

"Should we look at the private, personal diary of the woman who has welcomed us into her family, paid for our honeymoon, and invited us to stay at her family home?" He looked stern, then nodded. "Yes, I think we should. She’s a mystery, you know? I’m interested."

"I was so hoping you’d say that!" Addison hopped to her feet and pulled the painting all the way open, then scooped up the diaries and the letters. She climbed back onto the bed and opened the first book, then the second. "Melana Eileen Karakas, age sixteen. The only one is seventeen."

"Read the first page and if it’s too personal then we’ll put it back."

Addison picked up her glasses from the nightstand and slipped them on, turning the yellowed page. "Dear Diary, today I turned sixteen. You, with your shiny leather jacket and gold trimmed pages, were a gift from Grandmama and I was so eager to fill your pages that I’ve left my party early and have hidden away in the grotto to do just that. No one lets me talk without judgment, but you, Diary, will do just that.

"My papa could not make it to my party again. I think sometimes that I’ve forgotten what he looks like, but every time he reappears my heart knows him well. Mother says that we mustn’t complain because Papa’s work is important and affords us luxuries that most people envy. I don’t want to be envied. I simply want my father home.

"My party was a somber affair so I do not regret my hasty exit. Xenos is sick again and enjoyed the festivities from his wheel chair. They bled him again only three nights ago. Mother says that Xeno must have been touched by the Angel of Life because nothing can kill him. He should have died at birth according to her and sometimes, when his body won’t let him run and play with us, I think perhaps he wishes that he had. But Xeno came here for me, I’ve little doubt. He’s my twin ... only he was born two years later than me.

"I saw a young man today at the market. He had kind eyes, but they were sad. I do not think he is from Greece because Mother told him to move out of the way in Greek and he only smiled and stood his ground. He smiled at me as well and I spoke to him in English, but Mother tugged me away from him and then yelled at me in the car until I was certain her spleen would rupture. She vented it that well. Never talk to strangers, she said and I asked how a person could make friends if they never speak to the souls they’ve yet to meet.

"Most people don’t have a cane taken to their legs for their smart mouth before their birthday party, but God made the exception for me. Mother says that my tongue will prevent me from gaining entrance to Heaven and I must confess that if logic is frowned upon by our Lord and Savior then I’d just as soon spend my eternity delivering coal to other unfortunate sinners in the pits of Hell. Perhaps ... I’ll unseat Lucifer and reorganize things. A woman Devil could truly tempt herself back into the Lord’s good graces.

"Alas, it has now gotten cold and I’ve no more bread to feed the eels so I’ll return upstairs and see if there is anything left to eat. Sometimes being the only girl in the family is not an easy thing. My brothers attack the dinner table like vultures on a carcass and you risk death trying to get into the mix. So, for now, Diary, goodnight. I feel we will be the best of friends." Addison put a hand against her chest. "She was lonely! She was lonely in a family of *nine*. That is so sad!"

"Read the next page. Same rules apply. If it gets to be too much we’ll stop."

Addison flipped the page and cleared her throat. "This is about a week later. Dear Diary, I’m afraid that you were kidnapped and held hostage by Demi, but you seem to have weathered the unfortunate attack like a true champion. Although, the scratch on your spine ensured that Demi did not far quite so well. I’m certain he’ll have a bruise the size of my foot on his backside for quite a few days.

"Papa came home! He was tired and surly as an old bear, but he lifted me into the air, spun me around, and gave me the most glorious easel and paint set that a person could ask for. I spent hours painting and then went to the orchard so that I could paint the fruit trees. We had a thief! The intruder didn’t seem to realize that I was there to witness his dubious crime so when I bounced the first rock off his forehead, he stood there like a lecher with juice from our oranges running down his chin and he had the audacity to throw what was left of the mangled orange at ME!

"My goodness, I lifted up my skirt and dashed right at him. The biggest canvas that Papa bought me was smashed over his head and I tried very hard to poke him in the eye with my paintbrush, but he left running and I tripped over my own anger in my haste to pursue him. I’m quite certain he won’t be back, but just in case, I shall paint the trees for many days, not matter how boring it becomes when they only sit there and occasionally drop fruit to the ground." Addison laughed. "Poor guy."

"Keep going." Mark had rolled onto his side and was waiting for her to continue. "Wait, do girls really write in diaries and shit?"

"Some do."

"We’re giving our daughter one as soon as she can spell. I want to know *everything*." He pointed at the diary. "More."

"Dear Diary, of all the nerve! I have seen many bold things in my family, the most notorious being the night that Demitri told my father to step into the front yard for a beating. It was bold and very nearly deadly because Demi walked out, crawled back in after the fight, and slept at the foot of the stairs because he was too sore to climb them. I’m quite certain that our thief has taken just as much leave of his senses.

"He was standing in the orchard just as pretty as you please when I arrived. I realized, when he wasn’t caught in the act of thievery, that I recognized him. He’s the man from the market and his eyes were no longer sad today. They were amused and she pompously showed me a large orange that he dug from his pocket, then tossed it into the air. Well, you can rest assured that I warned him to drop it. I didn’t just warn him, I issued a threat that would make my father break a cane on me if he could have heard my choice of words.

"The good for nothing fruit fly told me in an American accent that, I confess, was charming ... that he was a baseball fan. And to prove his point, he tossed the orange at me like a baseball. My heavens, I thought it would strike me and I would have been forced to kill him, however, it landed just shy of me and he said he had purchased it at the market to replace the one had stolen. Of course I didn’t believe him and said that he could have stolen it from our tree as well and the bold, ridiculous thing said that the fruit from the market was a million times better and then he left me standing there with my mouth agape for so long that a gnat flew into it.

"I plan on going to the orchard again tomorrow armed with Demi’s slingshot. I know that I’m sixteen and can no longer prance around like the boys, but I’m still the best tree climber and I’ll set a trap for him. Not only did he dare steal our oranges ... he insulted them as well. For that, he needs to bleed and I shall bounce a rock from his mouth to make it happen."

Mark was cackling with glee. The next few entries said nothing much. Melana had gotten into trouble for stealing bread to feed the eels and was prevented from going to the orchard or painting. She spoke at length about being forced to join the cooks and housekeepers with their daily tasks, but she used her kitchen time to make more bread for the eels and enjoyed learning a few recipes she had never cooked before. Fourteen short entries and days later, the mysterious man appeared again.

"Dear Diary, Mother specifically sent me to the orchard today to gather lemons for fresh lemonade. Xenos loves it and since he doesn’t eat much or ask for much, we make sure he has his lemonade. I was gathering the citrus in a basket when a snake dropped out of the tree. It was large and sinewy, all muscle and mouth, and I screamed to the Heavens when it struck at my legs. I knew it was only an egg snake, but employing Papa’s mentality of *all* snakes being poisonous adders has never failed me so I convinced myself that it was indeed the dreaded killer and shimmied up the tree it had just fallen from.

"My fear prevented me from thinking clearly because a moment later, the snake was slithering up behind me and I knew that I was about to leap to my death, but I jumped anyway. And wonder of wonders, the thief appears to have an affinity for lemons as well because he was lurking under the tree and I landed on top of him. I fared quite well, but he was less fortunate. My knee did what I had intended the sling shot to do and he bled profusely on my skirt and his shirt, but he didn’t seem overly concerned because he took it upon himself to pat nearly every inch of me while asking if I was hurt.

"Never in my life has anyone taken such liberties with me and when he gripped my ankle, I slapped him across the face. He proclaimed that I was apparently uninjured and assisted me to my feet and began gathering my lemons for me. I was too shocked to thank him when he handed me my basket and bowed. I knew that I should have returned to the house straightaway, but I followed along behind him that ugly, mangy dog followed Xenos home last week. He told me that his name is Raphael and he’s living in the woods like a gypsy for the time being.

"My goodness that was a big of intrigue. He would not tell me why he’s there or what brings him to Greece, but he assured me that he would not be back on our land. I don’t know why it upset me to think I’ll never see him again, but it did. So, because I’m now in trouble for bringing the lemons home so late ... I’ll have to sneak out to visit the woods in search of his elusive campsite. I forgot to thank him for breaking my fall. Yes, that’s what I must do."

"It’s Raphael!" Mark exclaimed, sitting up as well. "Did you keep a diary of how we met? Because this is incredible."

"No, Mark. I did not write about the way Derek introduced us and you puked on our clasped hands."

"Right. There was that." He took the diary and flipped to the next entry. "Dear Diary, I overheard Jonesy, the cook, saying that Xenos will die if he isn’t submerged in the healing spring at Talking Rock. My mother refuses to allow him to go. She says that it will fill Xeno with false hope and shake his faith in God if nothing happens. She thinks it’s a Heathen custom, but I don’t agree. I think that hope feeds the soul and bandages the heart so Demi and I are going to kidnap him and take across the water.

"I’ve been praying especially hard as we make plans to do this. So devout is my conviction that I have abstained from searching out that troublesome Raphael, though he has retaliated by plaguing my dreams. I dreamed of his rough, gravely voice last night. It’s even deeper than Papa’s and I used to love falling asleep on Papa’s chest as he read from the Bible. Xenos commands all of my attention at the moment.

"Willa, Jonesy’s daughter, is going to act as our watchman tonight while we load Xenos into the boat and row him to, what I hope, will be his salvation. We haven’t told him much, but I think he knows enough to be excited. He ate two helpings of stew tonight and smiled even though that much food must have hurt his unstable belly." Mark frowned. "It ended there and ... the pen was apparently dropped on the page."

Addison looked impatient. "Can you flip the ink blotted page and carry on?"

Mark complied, checking the date. "This is a full month later. Dear Diary, we flipped the boat before we got to Talking Rock and Xenos very nearly drowned. The water was frigid and his poor, frail body wouldn’t let him swim to safety. I helped keep him afloat until Demi could fetch the boat for us. It was upside down and no matter how Demi tried, he couldn’t right it. We finally worked together to get Xen onto the boat and he was breathing so hard and shivering so much that I cried enough to warm the water for Demi and myself, but it didn’t really work.

"We paddled and paddled to no avail because the current kept taking us further away from home, but no closer to land. Willa finally used the telescope and saw us in the moonlight when we didn’t appear at the appointed time. Her screams awoke the entire family and even in the inlet, we could hear it echoing loud and clear. Papa came to retrieve us and the tongue lashing we received was only slightly less painful than the lashing he delivered with his belt.

"As I lay sobbing in the bed that morning, I was grateful that my body was still so numb because Papa had swung his belt wildly in his rage and left me bruised from my thighs to my shoulder blades. Demi begged to take my lashes as well, but Papa was enraged and said that if I was going to behave like one of his sons then I could accept the consequences. I was abed for close to a week because I physically couldn’t move. Xenos suffered no ill side effects, however, and for that I would take another beating.

"Papa finally came into my room on the seventh day of my self imposed exile and he gathered me into his arms and cried his apologies. I told him I harbored no ill will and understood that we had frightened him and risked harming Xenos, but our intentions had been pure enough. He clung to me for a long while and promised me that he would never lift a hand to me in anger again. Considering my penchant for vexing him to delirium I don’t think that is a promise he will keep, but I loved hearing his vow anyway."

"Oh my god." Addison shook her head. "He beat her."

"Addy, this is a long time before spanking was considered bad."

"Spanking!? He hurt her so much she had to stay in bed!"

Mark yawned and handed her the diary again. "Put it in the drawer. I’m exhausted. We’ll read more tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!? But -"

"Baby, we already know the ending. It’s a great ending. And we’ve got time."

She reluctantly opened the drawer and put the diaries and letters inside, then she burrowed under the cover and watched him flip off the lamp. "I think I’ll start a diary when we get home. You know ... for our kids."

"Plural?"

"Plural."

"Let’s practice."

She cackled with glee when he leaped on top of her.

She didn’t think he was tired any more.

*~*~*~*~*
CH 6
*~*~*~*~*~

Cambyses awoke in a cold sweat. He sat up, breathing hard, running his hand through his damp hair. Blake wasn’t there and the smell of breakfast cooking explained why. It suited Cam just fine to be alone. He didn’t want anyone to see the tears on his face or hear him apologizing to a man who could no longer hear him. Killing Randall McFry shouldn’t have affected him, but every night the dreams became more intense and the memory haunted his waking hours. Callie wasn’t the only one who was a great actor.

There was a soft knock at the door and he wiped his face just in time for his twin sister to walk in. She carried a box wrapped in Barbie paper and she opened her mouth to speak, but she didn’t. Instead, the smile faded from her face and she crossed the room in silence and sat beside him, putting the gift beside her. Cam reached out and took her hand, examining her swollen fingers in the morning light.

Callie bit her bottom lip as she watched him. She didn’t have to ask what was wrong. "I dream about it. Every time I go to sleep."

His brown eyes met her matching ones. "You do?"

"I do. And every time ... I’m the one who kills him. *I* kill him, Cambyses, and you don’t carry the weight of it. It’s not really a nightmare when it happens that way. But you suffering ... that is."

"Get out of my head," he replied, stroking his thumb over a bruise on her wrist.

"I’ve been in there since before birth. You can’t fool me." She watched as he wiped at his eyes. "The first time I ever lost a patient on my own ... I shrugged and said it was part of the job and then I hid in a linen closet for the rest of my shift so no one could see me cry. Chief Webber found me and told me that a doctor can’t save everyone. He said that some people die so that others can live, but I don’t think it’s just doctor’s who -"

"Callie, it completely different and -"

"It must have been two for one day, Cam. I mean, you saved Derek and you saved me, but to do that ... you had to remove the threat." Callie’s voice broke. "I’m sorry it happened. I am, but I’m not sorry that I’m still here ... and I don’t think I’d feel that way if you hadn’t killed him. Because I really think if he was alive ... I wouldn’t want to be and I do want to be."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Put a bandaid on my soul." He gave her a one armed hug.

"Because putting one on yours ... puts one on mine." She laid her head against his shoulder. "You didn’t kill a man, Cambyses. You killed a monster. Don’t you dare lose one wink of sleep over it."

"Let’s make a deal," he replied. "I’ll get plenty of beauty sleep if you look me in the eye and promise me that you’re never gonna drink again. I need you to wake up and see what you stand to lose."

Sitting up, Callie lifted her chin and met his gaze. "I can look you in the eye and tell you that I don’t *want* to drink again. I don’t *plan* to. And I *promise* you ... I’m wide awake. I’m not living the dream anymore. I know what can hurt me now and I won’t ever forget."

"Alcohol can hurt you, Cal. Your liver -"

"I know." She lifted his birthday present into her lap and said, "I also know that you’ve wanted one of these forever. Happy birthday."

He stared at the pink package, his nose wrinkled. "Dear God, Callie, why? Why Barbie?"

"You used to steal mine all the time."

"Why do you think I’m gay? If that’s what women are supposed to look like, I’d rather have Ken." He took the box and shook it, then leaned over and pulled Callie’s present from under the bed. Holding it out, he said, "Notice how I wrapped it in something *nice*."

"I notice how Blake wrapped it in something nice." She kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"Open it before you thank me."

"Open yours, ass."

They opened their gifts together. Callie had given Cambyses a silver ring that read ‘I made a wish’ on the outside. ‘And you came’, was inscribed inside. He had given her a silver bracelet that said, ‘Not all who wander are lost’. They smiled when the put their respective pieces on. Cam lifted his fist, Callie did the same.

"Wonder twin power. Activate!" they said simultaneously.

"Are you two still doing that!?" Melana asked, watching from the doorway. She carried two cups of coffee and smiled when she crossed the room. She kissed Callie, then Cam, and held out the cups. "I think you’ll find that I have prepared that exactly the way you each like it."

Callie sipped from the cup Mel had handed her and grimaced. Beside her, Cambyses did the same. They exchanged cups, sipped again, and nodded. Melana crossed her arms over her chest. "Happy birthday, heathens. Brunch will be ready soon."

"Brunch?" Cam asked. "I smell bacon."

"I smell lazy," Mel replied, tapping her watch. "I didn’t think you two would ever wake up. Blake and Alex have gone into town to get more firewood. It’s supposed to be incredibly cold tonight."

"Where’s Dad?" Callie asked, getting to her feet.

"In the living room. Is everything okay?" Mel asked, watching Callie closely.

With a nod, Callie kissed Cam, then her mother, and left the room. She found Raphael arguing politics with Stavros, who greeted her with a boisterous rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. Loukas gave her a hug and punched Stavros in the arm for not being able to sing on key. Callie simply shook her head when Raphael hugged her. "Can I talk to you?" she asked.

"Sure," Raph replied.

"In private."

"Let’s go outside. There’s a fire going on the patio. The boys were out here earlier." He opened the door and waited for her to join him.

Callie gazed at the wide open space of the backyard. She would be completely exposed, out in the open. She had not stepped a single foot outdoors since she had come home and as she glanced at the grass, she remembered the way the ground in the courtyard of the church had felt biting into her exposed arms. "Dad-"

"I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe with me. And it’s a beautiful morning." He held out his hand. Melana had asked him to convince their daughter to get some fresh air and that’s what he would do. "Come on now."

She put her hand in his and stepped onto the back patio. The wind whipped her hair and she inhaled the salty smell of the water as she glanced left and right, trying to see every hiding place, every nook that could hold a person. Her father pulled out the wrought iron chair, causing it to scrape against the cement and she gasped, putting a hand against her chest. Raphael apologized, took her elbow, and guided her into the seat. Callie looked behind her three times before he could pull out his own chair.

"What’s on your mind?" he asked, covering her hand with his. He watched her put her coffee cup down and frowned when he saw that it was almost full and still steaming. She hadn’t been eating or drinking much.

"Cam’s not okay," she replied.

"I take it the reality has hit him?"

"Major league."

"I knew it would." Raph sipped his own coffee. "I’ll talk to him, kitten."

"Thanks."

He reached out and tilted her chin. Years of training had taught him how to keep his emotions off his face. It was hard work, however, because he wanted to cry every time he looked at hers. "Are you okay?"

"Not really."

"I didn’t hear you pacing the hallway last night to check the doors and windows."

"Alex took a page out of Mom’s book and did a bait and switch with my pills." She decided that she hated the way people looked at her. Her father couldn’t take his eyes off the bruises and she hated it. She felt unseen, like the bruises were all that mattered. "Can you hire someone to install security cameras?"

Raphael’s eyes widened. "Sure."

"And a fence?"

"And a fence," he agreed. "Consider it done. I’ll have someone out tomorrow."

She wrapped her hands around her cup. "I didn’t pay attention when we moved in. Is the alarm system in the house a good one?"

"Top of the line. How are you and Alex? Is he being ... helpful?"

"Helpful?"

"Is he taking care of you, Mija?"

"Sure," Callie told him. "He always does."

"Not always. He hurt you."

"I hurt him first."

"Either way, I heard some of what he said to you at the wedding and I didn’t approve. I may or may not have come very close to gutting him at the hospital. It was like the George thing all over again."

"I’m attached to this one, Daddy. Don’t scare him off."

"Like I could," Raphael chuckled. "Every father wants the best for his little girl. Alex still has a few kinks that I’d like to iron out with my boot, but I believe he loves you."

"I know he does."

With a twinkle in his eye, Raph rubbed the side of her face. "If you know he does then why are you keeping him at arm’s length? You don’t let him in. You rely on Cristina more than Alex and that’s not very fair to him."

"My body ... it still looks bad." Callie glanced down at the bruises on her arms, then pulled her shirt sleeves down over her wrists to cover them. "I don’t want anyone to see."

"You know, your mother used to hide her stretch marks from me like it was shameful. She’d try to cover herself and refuse to let me see her and it bothered me. A woman should be comfortable in their own skin, honey, not matter what that skin looks like. This is not your fault." He smiled at her. "Not that I want *anyone* to see you or know you in a biblical sense. Hmmm, perhaps I will gut Alex after all. And Eros too, apparently."

Callie choked on her coffee. "What!?"

"We heard all about it. I should make sure your uncle fires his ... ass."

With a sly smirk, Callie said, "So *that* is why Alex wanted to know everything about Greece last night. And Greek men. That’s why he wants to go."

"You may as well take him," he replied. "Xenos and Demi are dying to meet him and perhaps Alex can handle Eros for me."

"Dad-"

"I paid for him to go to school to be a massage therapist and look at what he did!"

"He was good with his hands *before* he went to school."

"Calliope, I can not-"

A large bird flew across the yard, low to the ground. It cried out, a mournful, desperate sound and Callie jumped, frantically looking behind her. Wordlessly, she got to her feet and turned her chair so that her back faced the house and she could easily see every inch of the yard. Instead of looking at her father, she looked back and forth enough to mimic the movements of people who were at a tennis match. After a few seconds, she seemed to calm. "Everything scares me."

"That’s natural."

"Not for me." She looked to her right as another bird appeared in her peripheral vision. "I hate it."

"Callie, you’re home. You’re safe and -"

"Churches are safe, too, Dad. Right? And just look what happened." She wiped a tear off her cheek. "I need to not feel this way and I don’t know how to stop."

For the first time in his life, Raph didn’t know how to help her. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to comfort her. He had witnessed the slightest touch from her mother cause Callie to yell out in fear. He had watched her burst into tears over the ringing phone and he was helpless.

The back door opened, causing a rake that was reclining against the back of the house to clatter noisily against the patio. Callie shot to her feet, spilling the contents of her coffee cup onto her lap and the front of her shirt. Alex, picked up the rake and leaned it back against the house, his eyes never wavering from Callie. "I’m sorry," he said. "I didn’t know anyone was out here. I was gonna check the fire."

Wordlessly, Callie hurried into the house. Alex closed his eyes when the door slammed behind her. "I hate this, Raphael. She’s scared of her own shadow and she doesn’t know how to ... be."

"Go help her."

"She doesn’t want me to -"

"Go. Help. Her."

Alex’s eyes widened and he nodded, hurrying to the master bedroom. Callie’s closet was open, but she wasn’t there. He quietly walked into the bathroom and drew up short. Callie was tugging her shirt over her head and for the first time, Alex could see the magnitude of the damage. Her back and sides were dotted with purple spots and her waist had a ring around it, presumably from the attacker yanking her around by her dress.

She pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside, turning to grab the fresh one from the counter. She saw Alex and instinctively covered her breasts, but not before he saw the handprints there. They were unmistakable and still so sore that she couldn’t wear a bra. Callie watched his hands fist at his side and tears blur his eyes. Saying nothing, he walked forward and pulled her into his arms.

"Alex-"

"Please. Just give me a second, Cal." He pulled her closer still, handing her like she was made of glass. "This shouldn’t have happened to you. Not to you."

Callie wrapped her arms around him when the first sob wracked through him. She had seen him cry before, had felt him break in her arms after his mother had resurfaced, but it had never felt like this. He came undone as he clung to her and instead of falling herself, she found strength that she forgot she had. "It’s okay, Alex. I’m fine."

"You’re not." He stepped back and looked down at her chest. "Does it ... hurt?"

"Only the cut."

"Cut?"

Taking a deep breath, she pointed at the underside of her left breast. "He - he put the knife down my dress to cut it away and -"

"Can I see?"

"Okay."

Alex peeled back the band aid that Cristina had placed over it the night before. The backs of his fingers skilled the bottom of her breast, her ribcage, but she didn’t push him away. He kneeled down and ran his thumb over the two stitched. "God ... it’s right over your heart."

"Derek attacked him while the knife was there. I don’t know if he was trying to kill me or what that time, but ... when Derek hit him the knife cut me."

Moving his hand over her stomach, touching the explosion of color that covered her lower abdomen and hips, he said, "And this?"

"He kicked me. I think." She gasped when Alex kissed just below her belly button, then her side. She could feel his tears against her flesh and put a hand on his head, letting him touch every inch of her that he could see. When he urged her around, she turned and felt him smoothing over the marks against her back. He eventually got to his feet and kissed her shoulder.

"I’m sticky," she said, touching her stomach.

"You want to take a shower?" he asked.

She turned and looked up at him. "Do you?"

He nodded, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She watched as he turned on the water and pulled his shirt over his head. After locking the door, he crossed back to her and unbuttoned her pants, a task her swollen hands prevented her from doing. Her mother had dressed her that morning. She let him push them down and obliged by stepping out of them. Her thighs were bruised and while the water warmed, he touched the worst of it, his jaw set. "How in god’s name can somebody do this to a woman?"

"I’ve stopped trying to figure that one out." She stepped into the shower and looked back at him. "You coming?"

"The last thing you need it a naked guy in the shower with you. It’ll just remind you that -"

"That I have a gorgeous husband who’s willing to wash my back." She smiled at him. "Come on."

He didn’t look sure and when he joined her finally, he wore his boxer briefs. She glanced down at them, but didn’t comment. Instead, she stepped into his arms as the water beat down against her aching body.

"Happy Birthday," he said. "Your present’s in the bedroom. I didn’t forget."

She clung to him, her eyes closed. "This is all I want."

"This?"

"Us. I want us. The way we were."

"We’re fine."

"We’re not even close to fine, but -"

"How can you say that?" He pushed her hair over her shoulder and forced her to look at him.

"Because it’s true, Alex. You wanted to leave me and you did. You weren’t coming back until this happened and -"

"You’re not gonna believe this ... so I saved the receipt because I know you," he cut in. "I was shopping for your birthday present when you were attacked. I was. I’m not even kidding. I felt like the biggest bastard on the planet so I was going to come home and give you this gift and beg you to forgive me."

"You went shopping?" One of her eyebrows arched. "After you found out I had something to drink? Why?"

"Because I have just as much blame as you in what you did. I know that. I realized it the second I drove away from the church and I wanted to make it right. You’re not the only one who made a mistake, baby. I never should have left you for being you. You fly planes and you -"

"No. I was wrong to not tell you about the air show. I have to stop looking for a rush and settle down and -"

"I don’t want you to resent me, Callie. I don’t want to be that anchor that holds you down when you were never meant to -"

"I want you to be my anchor. There comes a time when a person has to decide their path and I want the family, Alex. I want the ground."

Alex sighed and shook his head. "Your mother sad that she had to let your father go and do crazy jobs while all of you were kids because she knew that her love would bring him home safe. She said she believed that he loved her enough to only take the right risks. She said that adrenaline junkies like you and Raphael can’t be tamed and you’d die without it."

"Wait." Callie made a face. "My dad said that she told him to choose between his dangerous job or the family and he chose us. He said that it was time to hand up his ... wings. Oh my god, we’ve been had. Manipulators! They played us!"

"So ... what’s the truth?"

"Who the hell knows?" She gave him an impish smile. "Wanna find out?"

"How?"

"Brunch. Just follow my lead."

Alex decided to follow her to the ends of the earth. Because she kissed him. It was their first kiss since before the attack and it felt like coming home. It was chaste, sweet, and sincere. He wanted to cry again.


This time from relief.

*~

Melana had cooked a feast. Everything that Callie and Cambyses favored was piled on the table. When Callie arrived at last, Melana nodded her approval at her flushed cheeks, and lifted her fork like she was conducting a symphony. Everyone sang ‘Happy Birthday’, except Stavros, who suffered through the singing with Loukas’s hand over his mouth. There were many laughs, many anecdotes and Blake and Alex were treated to one story after another about past birthdays, which The Wonder Twins vehemently denied. For the most part.

As she ate her birthday cake, Callie glanced at Alex and winked. "Daddy?"

"What, princess?"

"I’m gonna have a really bad scar on my leg."

Raphael frowned. "Perhaps not."

"I will," she replied. "But I was thinking ... you have a scar from being shot so ... we’ll have something in common."

Sitting up a little straight, Raph looked at Stavros, who had opened his mouth to correct Callie. Raph moved to kick his eldest son under the table, but missed, kicking Melana instead. It startled the woman and she yelped. With a glare, she kicked him back, even harder, then slapped him on the arm. "What is the matter with you?" she snapped. "Control yourself or leave the table. I’ll have you committed to a retirement home if you can’t keep your limbs to yourself. And I’ll pay them extra to let you sit in your own piss for a week."

"Sorry," Raphael replied, lifting his leg to massage it.

"Why did you kick her!?" Loukas demanded.

"He was trying to kick me," Stavros told him, smirking. "Dad, when did you get shot?"

"Any minute now," Melana replied, her eyes narrowed at her husband.

"Years ago." Raph, who had declared himself so stuff that he was miserable just moments before, dug into the cake again, refilling his plate. "I could eat this all day and -"

"Diabetic coma!" Callie cried, snatching it from him. "Can I see your scar? It would make me feel better about mine."

"He’s sitting on it," Melana growled. "Too bad it didn’t paralyze the foot he can’t control."

"I said I’m sorry!" Raph snapped. "Who wants to open presents!? Woo! Presents!"

Alex couldn’t contain himself. "Melana, you didn’t tell me about him being shot were you were waxing poetic about letting him do his job. You said the danger made the victory sweeter and you never worried."

"WHAT!?" Loukas cried, taking the cake from Callie and digging into it. "Mom used to cry every single time the phone rang thinking Dad wasn’t coming home. She would -"

"Loukas," Melana said, snatching the cake from him. "If you can’t contribute to the conversation then don’t speak."

"What did I do?" Loukas asked Cambyses, who was watching the exchange with interest.

Raphael pointed to the island and repeated, "Presents. Woo."

Callie crossed her arms over her chest as she regarded her parents. "You guys aren’t telling us something."

"For heaven’s sake, Calliope, do you tell all of your secrets?" Melana inquired. "No? I didn’t think so. Otherwise your dalliance with Eros wouldn’t have given me heart burn last night."

"He didn’t get shot," Stavros announced. "I remember it like it was yesterday. I was young, but some things *never* get erased from your mind." He looked at Callie. "Mom was pregnant with you and Cambyses and we flew from Greece to Virginia because General Wilkins called and told us that Dad had been wounded in the line of duty."

"Stavros!" Melana warned.

Stavros merely smiled and continued his story. "So, we got to Langley and Mom got mad as hell because they kept frisking her to make sure she actually had twins in her gut and not a bomb or something. Then they led us back to where Dad was and ... he had gotten sick during some training run and dropped his pants to use the bathroom. Well, a timber rattler saw that shining white ass coming down on top of it and struck him twice. And was it ever nasty?! God damn!"

Melana kicked her son under the table. "We just prayed over this food! I hope it upsets your stomach."

"Langley," Blake said. "Isn’t that where the C.I.A. is?"

The Torres family stopped moving, stopped breathing, and looked everywhere but Blake.

"HOLY SHIT!!" Blake cried. "You were in the C.I.A.?!"

"What!?" Alex looked at Callie, who seemed to be engrossed in the grain of the wood table. "Seriously?"

Blake shot an accusing glare at Cambyses. "You never said C.I.A., Cam. You said he had dabbled in the FBI and -"

"Honestly, son," Raph said, glaring at Cam. "If you’re going to lie at least make it interesting. What happened to the Secret Service cover I gave all you kids? You were supposed to automatically say that I was away guarding the President."

"Guarding any President of late is not something to be proud of," Cam replied. "The FBI is pretty cool, though. They get nice hats."

Blake snorted. "In the C.I.A., you get nice guns. And gadgets. And bombs. And -"

"It’s really not like ‘Alias’." Raphael cut in. "No one looked like Jennifer Garner and we rarely had the need to wear lingerie on our missions."

"Are you sure you weren’t wearing lingerie when your ass was bitten?" Cambyses asked.

"Presents!" Raphael snapped.

"Woo." Melana added.

*~*~*~*~

"Dear Diary," Mark read, fluffing his pillow against the headboard. "Today I stumbled onto something that I don’t understand. Papa said that he was going to the market and disappeared. I went to the grotto to see if that pretty blue eel with the scarred head was back for more bread, but voices startled me. That man, Raphael, the thief, was standing toe to toe with Papa and they were yelling at one another in a language I’ve never heard. I think perhaps it must be Spanish, though I can’t be certain. I’ve never heard Papa speak anything other than Greek or English, but he spoke whatever foreign tongue it was very well.

"And apparently Raphael didn’t care for the subject matter because he got into his small motor boat after just a few minutes and sailed away. Papa was crimson. I thought that I’d have to shove him into the water to extinguish the fire that seemed to erupt on his head. He paced for a while and then took the cave entrance to the house. I didn’t follow. I’ve never been partial to that passage. It’s got too many hidey holes for spirits and ghouls.

"Xenos benefited from the healing spring, after all. Demi, after he was able to move again without being reminded of the beating he took (which I’m sure was worse than mine) swam to Talking Rock and filled a mason jar with water from the spring. Xeno was feverish and not able to keep anything down, even lemonade, so after everyone was in bed, I bathed his brow with the water and trickled some into his mouth. Oh, how he choked at first. I was quite certain he’d awaken the entire house, but no one came.

"Demi sat beside his bed reading the Bible while Xeno drank and drank from the jar. It was like his thirst could not be quenched after a while. My goodness, he drank until his scrawny belly looked like Buddha, though I can never let anyone know that I know what Buddha looks like. Mama and Papa would be beside themselves, weigh me down with rosaries, and drop me into the grotto to purify myself for looking at false idols.

"I don’t know yet if the water will help Xeno. I’ve only just left his room and he was sleeping soundly. I put my ear against his belly and told Demi it sounds like he may have swallowed a fish as well. It was swishing and swirling like the water buckets when the ladies do the laundry.

"If Xeno is not near death tomorrow ... I will be looking for Raphael’s campsite. If he is near death ... I’ll stay until the very end. And then run because I’m sure the water will have killed him." Mark handed the diary to Addison. "Do you want to go downstairs and eat or have it brought here?"

"Here." She flipped the page, but waited until he called downstairs and asked for breakfast in bed before she started to read. "Dear Diary ... this is wrong, Mark. These are the private thoughts of a friend of ours. A friend who was clearly mistreated and misunderstood and -"

"Bad as hell." He smiled at her. "What else are we gonna do today? It’s raining outside and I’m still sore from walking all over Egypt. So, let’s read. If you don’t want to ... give it to me and I’ll do it in silence."

"Not happening." She lifted the book, settling back in his arms. "Dear Diary, Xenos woke me up this morning by jumping on my bed. At fourteen, he’s so small and skeletal that he usually doesn’t have the strength to hold himself upright. He walked with a perpetually curved back that caused Athena Niarchos to call him Quasimodo at the fair last year. Well, you don’t even have to ask and since you can’t ... I’ll just tell you that by the time I finished beating her into the mud she was not only sorry, she happily gave Xenos his first kiss. She’s a bit of a troll, quite possibly a hag, but Xenos smiled for a week and hid the muddy shirt she had clutched when she kissed him under his mattress.

"But today his back was straight and he begged me to take him to the orchard so that he could pick the plumpest orange there. Naturally, I agreed. I dressed so quickly that my dress didn’t match my hair ribbons, but he was frantically pacing just outside my door and I couldn’t make him wait. His good days are so few and far between. He wouldn’t let me drag his wheelchair out. Instead, he took my hand in his and led me down the slope. I kept telling him to slow down, but he only laughed and pulled me along behind him.

"He found an orange that was bigger than both of our fists and stretched out in the sun to peel it. Never has Xenos talked so much or so passionately. He laughed and joked and made remarks that were so out of character that I thought for a moment he was a changeling. We were laughing so hard that we didn’t hear the snarling at first. A great black beast of a dog was coming toward us, hackles up, teeth bared. I threw what was left of my orange and it hit the animal on its slobbering mouth, but it didn’t deter it. It charged at us and I gathered Xeno to his feet, shoving him up into the tree.

"I was pulling myself up when it lunged and caught hold of my ankle. Thankfully, I was wearing the boots that cover my ankle, but oh, the pain was incredible. I screamed and screamed and Xeno was frantically tearing my arms and shoulders to pull me further into the tree. When the gunshot rang out, I was certain that I had been shot. The dog tightened its grip in the moment before it died, then it whimpered, let go, and fell to the ground with its tongue rolled out. There was white foam still spewing from its muzzle.

"And then Raphael was there, examining my boot while I dangled between the branches of the tree. It was quite mortifying to have him unlace it and slip it and my sock off. It startled me so badly that I let go of the tree, but this time he was prepared for my descent and caught me with his arms and not his head. He set me on the ground, away from the dog, and reached for Xeno, who happily surrendered to Raphael’s much stronger arms.

"Only my pride was wounded. My ankle is now resting in a basin of ice water. It’s slightly purple, but the skin wasn’t broken. Raphael said the dog must have been drinking sea water and it drove it mad. Xeno allowed Raphael to give him a piggy back ride to the house because he was exhausted from our ordeal and knew I couldn’t support his weight on my ankle. Before he told us goodbye, Raphael mentioned that he’d be in the orchard tomorrow. Stealing fruit. His criminal deeds appear to amuse him because he winked at me when he said it."

Mark held out his hand and read the next entry. "Today ... oooh, she didn’t say Dear Diary ... Today, was like a dream. I awoke with the urge to wear a new dress. Demi bought it for my birthday and Mother said it’s too adult, too free spirited, but I like it. It has no real sleeves to speak of. I’ve seen similar dresses in magazines, but we have our clothing made from patterns here that mother cuts herself. At any rate, Demi saw me and said I looked like a movie star. I went to the orchard alone, feeling like a star and that feeling hasn’t truly left me yet.

"Raphael was there, perched in the tree that had witnessed my snake humiliation. He jumped down when he saw me coming and handed me a red rose, saying he didn’t realize that it would match my dress. We strolled through the orchard for so long that the shoes I wore began to pinch my feet. Raphael told me to take them off and I was embarrassed to show my feet, but I knew the lush grass would feel like cool water so I complied. We wound up at the beach and he took his shoes off, too. I’ve never seen a man’s feet before unless you count my brothers, which I don’t.

"We waded for what felt like an eternity and then I showed him one of the caves that led to the grotto. I don’t know why I did it. He clearly knew how to get to the grotto because I had seen him speaking to my father there. When I asked him about it, he said that it was business and would not tell me what kind. My bare feet didn’t enjoy the rocky floor of the cave and I stumbled. He caught me and ... well, he kissed me. It was definitely a kiss. A rather strange kiss that involved his tongue touching mine. I’m not at all convinced that people actually do that awkward thing regularly, but we did it so many times that I’m well versed in it should it happen again."

They swapped the diary back and forth, reading passage after passage, pausing only to admit Barnacle, who apologized for the rain as he delivered their breakfast. The poor old man seemed to feel personally responsible for the dreary day and made every suggestion under the sun on how he could rectify it. The newlyweds finally assured him that they were exhausted and need a day of rest and he excused himself. While they ate, they talked about Melana and Raphael.

Melana had chronicled their first real ‘date’. She had packed a lunch and traipsed through the woods until she found his campsite. They ate on a blanket in front of his tent and he told her that he wanted to kiss the cook. She assured him that he already had and let him kiss her again. And again. And then some more. There were entries that talked more about Xeno and his mystery illness, which seemed to have come back stronger than ever, and several weeks past where Melana didn’t write at all, she simply drew hearts and wrote Raphael’s name over and over again.

"She’s so in love," Addison said, her thumb trailing over a particularly ornate heart.

"Fast forward this thing to the next chapter, Addy."

She sighed and looked at him. "We should take a moment and bask."

"I’d rather take a moment and get to the smut."

"Pig." She turned the page. "I told Raphael today that we’re going to sneak Xeno to Talking Rock tonight. Xeno has turned yellow and the doctors say that he could go at any time. I haven’t forgotten what the spring water allowed us to do the day after he drank it. We walked to the orchard together that day. We laughed. He was healthy. So I believe. Raphael said that if we come to the grotto with Xeno, he’ll take us in his motor boat.

"I was frightened to tell Demi about Raphael, but he took it well enough. I think that he’s been spying on us, in all honesty. Because he called Raph a Spaniard and I never once mentioned his name or his nationality. Are Cuban people Spaniards? I’m quite concerned with how Demi will treat him tonight. I must go and prepare. I’m taking more than one jar tonight to see if that will prolong Xeno’s fortitude."

Addison frantically flipped the page. "Dude, this is written the same day."

"And?"

"Dear Diary, I’ll begin this entry by telling you that Xeno is okay. I, on the other hand, can barely move. Raphael was waiting for us in his boat and he held up his arms to accept Xeno, who was bundled in a blanket. I rode to Talking Rock with him in my arms and he shivered and cried the entire time. Demi didn’t say much, he simply glared at Raphael and did what he could to add tension to an already tense situation.

"When we arrived at Talking Rock, Xeno wanted to walk. He was so weak that it took Raph and Demi both to support him and I was beside myself watching him struggle to get to the last puddle of salvation we have. When the spring came into view, he asked them to let him go and he half crawled, half walked to the edge, where he lay on his stomach and gazed at the shallow depths. The moon was reflected right over him, bathing us all like nymphs, and then we heard him praying and crying and asking God to let it work. I rushed to his side to add my own prayers and then Demi and Raphael fell to their knees beside us, adding their own fervent cries.

"Xeno pulled himself into the water and went under. I wanted to scream, to wrench his head back up, but Demi caught my arm and told me to give him a moment. I never knew that anyone could hold their breath that long and I don’t understand exactly HOW he disappeared when we could see the bottom clearly, but I promise you ... Xeno was gone for a short while. When he finally did reappear, he was laughing.

"And he walked out. He didn’t crawl.

"Our celebration, while incredibly heartfelt and full of praise, was short lived. My father came ashore looking like a madman. He went after Demi first, swinging his belt so many times that Demi, who is a grown man himself, was crying out from it. Then he came at me and Raphael, who had been waylaid by collecting water at the spring, got between us and refused to move. My father was a man undone. Raphael would not let him hit me and told him that if his temper needed to be sated that badly to hit him instead. My father obliged. It was so traumatic. By the time it was over, I had gotten my share of the beating by trying to help Raphael. It was Xeno who stopped it. He opened a jar of water and threw it at my father.

"I tell you ... I heard it hiss. And just like that, the melee was over and he was hugging Xeno, unable to believe his eyes. On the way back from Talking Rock, sitting sideways in my father’s boat to watch Raphael as he sailed out of site toward his campsite, I began to cry. Papa said that I’m not to see him again. Demi told him that Raphael was HIS friend and that I didn’t know him, but Papa doesn’t seem to believe it." Addison didn’t give Mark the diary for the next entry either. She read it, too. "Dear Diary, before the sun rose ... the passageway into my bedroom opened and Raphael appeared. I was crying into my pillow because I hurt so badly and it startled the tears dry. I could only stare at him as he rushed across the room and gathered me into his arms. I knew that they were strong, sturdy arms, but they chased away the chill and filled me with warmth like I’ve never known.

"He asked to see my back because there was blood on my dress and I let him. I let him because I’ve never really had anyone seem to care so much. He wet his hand in the jar of water I had brought back and trailed it over the welt on my skin from Papa’s belt. It stopped burning right away and then I felt his lips against my neck and strange things started to happen to my body. And it kept happening as he pushed my tattered dress to the floor.

"I know what we did is wrong. I know it is. It shouldn’t have happened and it ... it hurt, but then it didn’t hurt and it was wonderful and I didn’t want him to leave. I cried when he said that he should go and he clung to me, telling me that he loved me, that he had loved me since he had seen me in the market on my sixteenth birthday. That was only seven months ago, but I feel like I’ve known him all my life. I can’t remember not knowing him.

"I love him, too. I love that he was there to help Xeno, that he prayed for him, that he came to help me and ... that he taught me what my body can do. I never, ever knew that people could do what we did and I don’t regret it. I can’t regret it because for the first time in my life .... I feel alive. I feel wanted. I told him just before he left that I would run away with him anytime. All he has to do is ask me and I’ll leave everything behind. I’ll leave the money, my life ... even Xeno, because my heart doesn’t know how to keep beating unless I can see him.

"There was blood on my sheets this morning. I washed them myself and hung them on the line before anyone else woke up. Papa was in the blue room when I came inside. Unlike all the other times that he apologized for hitting me ... today he didn’t. Maybe he doesn’t understand love. Love propelled us to take Xeno to Talking Rock. And love propelled me to hug Papa and forgive him once again. And love propelled me last night and no one should ever feel badly about such a wonderful, pure feeling." Addison closed the diary and looked at Mark. "Oh my god."

"I know."

"I *told* you that there was something up with that healing water! I told you!" Addison pulled her foot from under her and flexed it. "I should be crippled. They hurt that bad."

Mark grabbed her foot and tickled it, causing her to forget the diary. She wore his shirt and he unbuttoned it pushing it over her shoulders. When she was naked, he licked his lips and smiled up at her. "We’re going tomorrow. To Talking Rock."

"Yeah?" Addison tugged his pants down and slipped back up his body, grinding against him. "All by ourselves?"

"Completely." He slid his hand along her cleft, dipping inside her moist center. "And what we don’t do there ... can’t be done."

"It’s *hallowed*," Addison replied, groaning as he lifted her hips and pulled her down onto him. "Oooooh, so is this."

"I agree."

They made love for hours and fell asleep with their arms around each other. Their lunch arrived, waking them, and they decided to leave the diary alone for a while and head back down to the grotto.

They stopped at the kitchen first to ask for bread for the eels.

If anyone thought the suggestions was odd, they didn’t comment. Instead, they supplied the two house guests with enough bread to feed an army and told them to watch for the lucky blue eel with a scar on its head. Willa said that seeing the eel was a sign of good things to come.

In the grotto, Mark saw it first. The scar was only a blue when the eel darted out at the first drop of bread against the water’s surface. When the second piece was dropped, the animal’s entire head came out and left no doubt that it was the eel that was mentioned in Melana’s diary as well.

"How long do these things live?" Mark asked, watching as several more joined the feeding frenzy.

"Apparently pretty damn long. We’ll ask Xeno."

Side by side, they sat at the water’s edge, listening to the eels splash and the thunder reverberate through the cavern. "This is the best honeymoon ever," Addison said. "Remind me to take Melana a souvenir of some kind."

"What do you give the woman who has everything?"

"I’m sure we’ll think of something."

"I’m sure we will." He put an arm around her. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Wanna move to Greece?"

"I got a feeling we'll be carrying it with us no matter where we wind up."

*~*~*~
CH 7
"Where were you?" Burke demanded when Cristina opened the door. "Have you ever heard of a telephone?"

Cristina reached into her back pocket and pulled out her cell. "It’s dead."

"I’ve been worried sick. You’re two hours late. I called the hospital and they said that you left a while ago." He pulled her into his arms, hanging onto her.

She rolled her eyes. Ever since Callie’s attack, Burke had become so overprotective that he called her the second she was out of sight in the mornings to make sure her car doors were locked. No matter how often she reminded him that they locked automatically, he still wanted to hear the click. He had actually taken the day off at Mercy West to have an alarm system installed in their apartment. She patted him on the back and said, "Paranoia will give you ulcers."

"Not calling me will give you a night on the sofa."

She smiled up at him. "Do I smell baked chicken?"

"You do." Leaning down, he kissed her and took her coat, hanging it on the hook behind the door. "Have you seen Callie?"

"Yeah. It’s her birthday. I took her something from Hot Topic. She’s scaring me," Cristina replied, letting him lift her onto the kitchen counter. She plucked a yeast roll from the pan and bit into it. "It’s like she goes in and out of herself. She’ll be fine for a while and then ... she’s just ... not there anymore."

Burke accepted the bite of roll she gave him. "You haven’t been sleeping and last night I had an entire conversation with you that you didn’t hear. This thing ... this horrible, horrible thing that happened to Callie is making *you* go in and out of yourself and you only saw it. She lived it."

"I know." Cristina finished off the roll and pushed her hair away from her face. "Meredith said that Derek’s been having nightmares. She said that he keeps talking about Callie and -"

"We see things like this every day in our profession." Burke reached up to touch the necklace he had given her for Christmas the previous year. He had taken her engagement ring to the jeweler, where the diamonds were removed from the ring and set into a locket. It made him feel better to know that she wore the ring he had painstakingly chosen, even if it was like this. "We see it from a professional standpoint. Callie made it personal for all of us. We’re all feeling it in different degrees."

"It feels like ‘cagefighter Callie’ is down for the count."

Burke shook his head. "You can’t keep a woman like her down for long. She’s strong and she has an amazing support system."

Cristina grinned. "I love your brain."

"I love yours too." He kissed her, lingering over her lips for a while. "Erica Hahn called me today and mentioned that she wasn’t happy at Seattle Grace any more. She suggested that perhaps I’d be interested in returning to my old position."

"But you’re the Chief at Mercy West!"

"I miss *my* support system."

She watched him as he took the chicken out of the oven and stirred the contents of two saucepans. "Your support system misses you too."

"I could resign. I’ve had over a year of experience as Chief of Surgery and ... that may look good down the road."

"Or it could look like you got the job, hated it, and bailed."

"Or it could look like I got the right job at the wrong hospital. And - I don’t want to work eighteen hours a day anymore. I never see you. This was a great job before we worked out our problems, but now ... I miss you. I miss you more than I did when we were apart because ... I know you’re here. And I could be here, too."

"You would give up the Chief of Surgery job at a prestigious hospital because you *miss* me?"

"I know what my priorities are. And you’re at the very top."

"This is your career, Preston."

"This is my *life*, Cristina." She picked up another roll, but he took it from her and dropped it back onto the pan, saying, "Stop stress eating."

"I don’t want you to regret this. You got your dream. You’re *Chief*."

"I got the *job*. I’m looking at the dream."

With a smirk, she pulled him closer. "Well, now I’m not hungry at all. Wanna get laid?"

Their dinner was forgotten.

Cristina couldn’t *wait* for him to return to Seattle Grace.

*~*~*~

Callie woke with a start. She always woke with a start. Glancing at the clock on the end table, she realized that her afternoon birthday nap had drifted toward evening, then she let her gaze fall on the photo that was illuminated by the glow of the clock. It was the photo that Alex had ripped. Not that one precisely, but a duplicate. He had found the negatives and had one blown up to an eight by ten to replace the one he had destroyed. It was in a new frame, a silver one that said ‘Forever’ at the top. Alex had given it to her for her birthday along with her wedding rings. He had even gotten on his knees to beg her to wear them again, swearing on everything in the world that he’d never hurt her, never leave her, never make her regret it. She believed him. She had to believe him.

Lifting her hand, she gazed at her rings. They were a little snug because of the swelling, but she felt complete again. She heard the door creak open and rolled over, smiling at Irene. Flipping the lamp on, she sat up. "Hey."

"Hey, honey," Irene replied, closing the door behind her as she walked into the room. She carried a large package, gaily wrapped. "Happy Birthday. I just got off work so I had to miss most of the party."

"There wasn’t one. We had brunch together and then I slept most of the day away."

"That’s understandable." Irene held out the box. "I hope you like it."

"You didn’t have to get me anything," Callie told her, accepting it. She opened it and smiled when she saw the snowglobe inside. It was a scene from ‘The Wizard of Oz’ which they had watched together recently. Winding it, Callie grinned up at her mother in law as the tinkling of ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ began to play. "I love it. Thank you."

Irene smiled and sat down, watching as Callie shook it, making the snow fall. "Can I talk to you?"

Meeting her eyes, Callie frowned. "Okay."

"I know that you love Alex. I know. I know that you two are perfect together and he’s a better man because of you, but - I didn’t know that you had an alcohol problem." Irene shook her head. "I just found out today at the hospital. You know how gossip is at that place."

Callie didn’t reply so Irene continued. "I also know that alcoholism is a disease. I know that you can’t help it, but, Callie, he had to live through this once already with his father. It destroyed him every single time his dad would come home drunk or use our food money for more alcohol. He used to force Alex to go into the kitchen to get him more beer and -"

"It’s not like that with me."

"Did you really almost kill yourself intentionally with liquor?"

"Yes, but -"

"Then it’s worse." Irene stared at her, unblinking. "I’m asking you as his mother to not do this to him. I’m asking you to remember your wedding vows and think about him first. Addiction is a beast and I understand that it’s hard to be strong, but my son is miserable and you can stop it."

"I have stopped it. I had one slip up in over a year." Callie’s palms had begun to sweat so she laid the globe back in the box and swiped them over the cover. "I’m not perfect."

"No one is," Irene agreed. "All I’m saying is ... think. Think about where he came from, Callie. Don’t make him overcome that just to relive it again and again with you. Don’t be like his father because if you ever have kids ... it’ll damage them for life and Alex will wind up like me." Getting to her feet, Irene took a deep breath. "I have to go. I hope you have a good night, sweetheart."

Callie nodded, watching the other woman leave. The last strings of the song finished playing and she lifted the globe again, peering into it. She decided then that she’d give anything to be picked up and taken to Oz, to anywhere. She wanted to vanish for a while. It didn’t help that workmen would be arriving the following day to install the security cameras and fence. Finding out that the house and yard would be crawling with strange men had prompted her to self medicate and go straight to bed. As much as she wanted it done, the thought of it left her panicked inside. She wanted to run. She needed to run.


Since she was a child, at the first hint of trouble ... Callie ran. After wrecking her first bike, she had hidden in the woods overnight and that trait had remained with her through adulthood. When she learned of George’s infidelity, she hopped a plane to North Carolina for fifteen days and didn’t call anyone to say she was alive. Alex was the first person she had ever invited along for one of her self imposed exiles and she knew, as she gazed at the globe, that it was time for another one. This time ... Alex couldn’t go.

She needed to help herself, she decided. She needed to get away from the pitying eyes of her friends and family and *think* for a while. She couldn’t do that surrounded by people who coddled her and made excuses for her. No matter how they tried, they didn’t take away the pain, the fear, the anxiety. She was terrified in her own home, scared to walk into a darkened room and shocked at her own reflection when she walked past a mirror. A change of scenery would be perfect. And she’d call from wherever she landed to assure them all that she was okay.

Thinking required a change of venue sometimes.

Running felt like the smart thing to do.

She got to her feet and located her cell phone. Within fifteen minutes, her plane was being fueled and readied for a flight to Alaska. It was the first place she thought of. Miles and miles of empty stretches with no one to see her. She had little doubt that she could secure a small cabin, hide away, and be alone with her thoughts. Locking the bedroom door, she hastily threw together an overnight bag and pulled a wad of cash from the fireproof box on the top shelf of her closet. She stowed the bag underneath the bed just as someone wiggled the doorknob.

"Callie?" Alex called.

She adjusted the dust ruffle before she let him in. "Sorry. I was gonna change clothes and I didn’t want anyone walking in."

"How do you feel?"

"Fine. Good. I’m good. Great. Really."

He cupped her cheek, looking into her eyes. "Are you *sure*?"

Her stomach twisted. She loved and hated the way he could see through her, into her. "I’m better," she assured him, not feeling the false conviction in her own voice. She looked away first, motioning at the bed. She sat down, but he remained on his feet. "Is something wrong, Jock Strap?"

"I don’t know," Alex replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "You tell me."

Callie shrugged innocently. Because his gaze was becoming unbearable, she finally said, "Are we ever gonna talk about the drinking? Because ignoring it doesn’t make it go away."

He cleared his throat, more to buy time than because he needed to. It wasn’t a topic he cared to discuss at all, but she had tried for several days. "Let’s talk about it then."

"You’re still mad at me for it."

"You’re still pissed at me for shooting my mouth off, too."

"Alex."

"Fine, I’m mad as hell." He nodded. "It infuriates me to think about it. You ruined your sobriety over something stupid as hell. It was stupid. And it makes me sick to know that you did it. If you’re waiting on me to yell at you though ... it’s going to be one hell of a wait. I think you’re sorry for it. I think you’re punishing yourself enough for everyone. Right?"

"I am sorry," she confirmed. "And scared that I’ll do it again."

"Why?"

"Because I like it. Because I really think I have a problem and - and I want it to go away."

Alex sat down beside her, his fingers digging into his thighs. "Baby, do I not make you happy anymore? Did I push you so far that you can’t come back? Because you were fine until we fought about the air show."

"I haven’t been fine. All along."

"Cal-"

"I’m a great actress, Alex." Reaching over, she took his hand. "I’m strong. I have willpower, but I think about drinking every day. Good or bad."

"Since when?"

"When I was married to George ... it was like a drinking game. If he left without saying he loved me ... I’d take a shot. If he hurt my feelings ... I’d do two. If he made me feel inferior to his friends ... I’d shoot whatever was left in the bottle and try not to hurt for a while. It was the only way I could deal."

"Do I make you feel that way?"

"You made me feel worse, Alex. George ignored me, which at the time was awful, but you - you made it very clear that I was a mistake you made and you weren’t coming home."

"I was verbally abusive. I get that. I shouldn’t have said -"

"You’re forgiven," she replied, cutting him off.

"You’re forgiven, too." He gave her a sad smile. "I don’t know how to help you through this drinking thing, Callie. I really don’t. I can only tell you that if me leaving played any part in it that you won’t ever have to worry about it again. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m not going anywhere. None of *us* are going anywhere. We’re all here for you."

Callie looked away. "My parents will probably try to send me to rehab. Maybe I should have gone last time."

His eyes widened. "You want to go?"

"I want to never drink again," she replied.

"Rehab doesn’t guarantee that," he said, choosing his words carefully. "And neither does running away to rehab."

She swallowed hard. Surely he didn’t know. "I’m not -"

"It’s what you do. You get scared and you run. And you’re terrified right now. Right?"

"No."

He leaned a little closer. "You’re not *that* great of an actress."

Callie forced herself to smile at him, even as she thought of the packed bag under the bed.

She let him talk her into going downstairs for dinner after that, but the smile never returned to her face.

*~

Melana sat on the bed, rubbing lotion into her skin. Raphael sat next to her, rigid and fully clothed, flipping through a book. She took a deep breath and looked at him. "I have a bruise on my leg."

"I have an even larger one, Sasquatch," he replied, lowering the book to look at the purpling bruise that marred her bronzed skin. With a grin, he sat up, lifted her leg, and kissed it. "Better?"

"No. Your children and I were the ones blessed with full lips, Raphael, so try a little harder. Chickens peck, not men."

With a grin, he lowered his head and did a much better job. Despite the tension he felt, he lost himself in the task and a full minute passed before she tapped him on the shoulder. "What, honey?" he asked.

"We need to take the twins to Greece. Tomorrow. Stavros and Loukas are ready to return to Miami. I took it upon myself to speak with Chief Webber about Alex taking some time off and he agreed." She continued to rub lotion into her skin. "Please, Raph? We both know what they need. Callie in particular."

"A massage from Eros?" Raph asked, bitterness creeping into his voice.

Mel smacked his arm. "I still can’t believe she did that. That’s *four* men that we know about."

"FOUR!?"

"George, Alex, Mark and Eros."

Raphael sat up. "Yes, we can go to Greece tomorrow. I need to make Addison a widow."

"Stop that."

"Sorry, mi vida. It’s just ... she’s -"

"Not a virgin, Raphael. We established that months ago."

"We better change the subject before I go choke Alex." Scratching his chin, Raphael added, "The construction crew arrives tomorrow. Leon should be able to oversee it."

Mel chuckled. "You never told Callie that he was your partner for a while, did you?"

"She’d call it overkill."

"It could make her feel safer, sweetheart. Alex and Blake were duly impressed with your work history."

"They better be. I’ll slip right back into agent mode if they hurt my kids."

"That’s so manly I could just *die*." She breathed deep, sniffing the air. "Nothing like misspent testosterone. I think I shall refer to you as Pepé Le Pew if you keep spraying it."

He kissed her lips, cupping her face. "I wonder what people would say if they knew who actually had the bullet scar in this family."

"That is not something I care to revisit."

"You’re brave, Melana. And our daughter has your guts." He ran a hand through his hair and finally told her the truth. "She’s about to fly, mi vida."

"Fly?"

"Branson called. She had her plane prepared today. For Alaska."

"WHAT!?"

"Alex questioned her indirectly and said she didn’t let on. I even spoke a little at dinner about it, but she’s not - why would she run away now?"

"I’ll find out!" Melana started to rise from the bed, but he caught her arm. "If you know what’s good for you-"

"We want to see if she’ll go through with it. I’ve put a special code in the alarm. If she tries to exit *any* door or window it’ll wake the dead." He pulled her back down beside him. "I don’t understand what she’s thinking."

"I don’t know either. I don’t know how to help her, Raphael. I’ve been beaten, certainly, but never by a stranger who would see me dead."

"It probably hurts less when it’s a stranger," he said. "You should tell her about your father. Perhaps-"

"Goodness, no! I’ve built him up so much that it would devastate the children to know the truth about him." She snuggled against him, hoping his warmth would chase away the chill she now felt. "They think he’s some dashing figure who loved his children and -"

"He did," Raph assured her. "But his misdeeds seemed to outweigh his goodness."

"I’d never speak ill of the dead. Don’t you."

"I’d never speak ill of your father, but we both know he wouldn’t take offense to it if he were still alive. He would agree."

"Hmm, do you think our children would speak ill of us if they knew what we had done?"

"Which part?"

"All of it."

Raph kissed her forehead, pulling her closer still. "No, I don’t think they’d speak ill. Although, I’d rather we live silently forever in our own painful memories than add anything to Calliope’s. She’s miserable."

"She needs to be. It’s well earned pain, honey. She very nearly killed herself with alcohol and then -"

"Leave her be."

"How can I? Now you tell me that she’s leaving. Running away again. Do I need to remind you what that does to you when you have to track her down all over the world? Alaska, indeed."

As if on cue, the alarm system wailed. Raphael shot to his feet and didn’t miss a beat as he raced from the room. Alex was a few steps ahead of him in the hallway and when they rounded the corner, Callie was rushing out the front door. It was Cambyses, however, who stopped her. He was leaning patiently against the garage doors and when she ran around the side of the house, he casually caught her around the waist. Lifting her off her feet, he carried her right back where she had come from and put her down on the front stoop.

"Well, well, well," Raphael said, taking the bag from her arm. "I can’t wait to hear what you have to say for yourself."

Callie didn’t meet his eyes. Or Alex’s. Her husband had stepped over the threshold of the door and she didn’t need to see him to know that he was furious. From three feet away, his anger was scorching. Cam put a hand on her back and forced her to walk inside the house. When she headed for the hallway, he gripped her arm and pulled her to the sofa, standing over her like a sentry. Leon arrived last, out of breath, his gun drawn. Raphael waved him away put his hands on his hips as he glared at his daughter.

"What are you doing?" Alex asked, breaking the heavy silence.

She let her head fall forward, then jerked it up again, pretending to be startled. "Am I sleepwalking?"

"That only ever worked when you were a toddler and even then not well." Melana moved to stand beside Alex. "Alaska, Calliope? Honestly, what is there in Alaska other than bears?"

"That’s kinda the whole point," Callie replied. "I - I want to be alone."

"No." Alex and Raphael said together.

"So you can drink?" Mel inquired sternly. "Because if that’s the case, if you’re so proud of your ability to get drunk, then do it here in front of us. Cambyses has wine and I’m fairly certain that Leon has beer in the shack. Which do you prefer?"

Stavros, Loukas and Blake entered the room in various states of dress. "What’s going on?" Loukas asked, tugging his T-shirt over his head.

"Callie’s running again," Cambyses told him. "As usual."

Stavros stalked forward, leaning down so that he could see his sister eye to eye. "Look at me." When she complied, he lifted his finger. "Number one, I love you even though you make it very difficult." He lifted a second finger. "Number two, I voted in your favor against rehab. Number three, if you make me regret that you’ll be visiting me from the afterlife at the prison, because I will choke you to death with my bare hands."

"And what he doesn’t choke," Loukas added, "I’ll drown."

"Cambyses," Melana said. "I suppose since these two will have thoroughly killed her you’ll be left to the burying."

"She’s burying herself without our help," Cam said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Cal, do you know what it would have been like for us if we woke up tomorrow and you were gone? Do you care?"

"Has she ever?" Stavros asked, throwing his hands in the air. "I’m going back to bed."

"We all are." Melana tapped her foot on the floor. "We need to get up early tomorrow, by the way. Our flight to Greece leaves at ten in the morning and I’ll expect you all to be up and ready."

"What?" Cam looked at his mother as if she had grown two heads. "We’re going to -"

"We obviously can’t help your sister," Melana snapped. "But I have *no* doubt that Demi and Xeno will shake some damn sense into her. Calliope, if you wish to be alone once we’re there, I’ll happily lock your ass in the cellar. You want to hit rock bottom? I’ll help all I can."

One by one, the Torres family headed back to their bedrooms, leaving Alex and Callie alone in the living room. Alex retrieved her bag, locked the door, and reset the alarm. When she made no move to follow him, he said, "Let’s go to bed."

"I don’t want -"

He held up his hand to silence her. "We can either go to bed or we can fight about this. Those are our choices and the things I want to say to you would make everything else I’ve said recently seem pretty tame. So, I’m telling you that your best option is to come with me and go to sleep."

Callie got to her feet and trudged behind him. In the bedroom, he tossed her bag into the corner and snatched his robe off, throwing it over the foot of the bed. Callie went into the bathroom to change, but he appeared in the doorway, watching her like a hawk. His intense scrutiny made her so nervous that she dropped her nightclothes twice. When her pajamas hit the floor for the third time, she started to cry.

"Don’t you dare cry," he snapped. "It’s not gonna work this time."

Callie retrieved the tank top and boxers and laid them on the sink, sobbing quietly as she fumbled with her belt. Her vision was so blurred that she could barely see the buckle and she fumbled for what felt like an eternity before Alex shoved her hands out of the way and opened it himself. The silence was punctuated by her sniffles and the hitching of her breath as she pulled her sweater over her head. "Alex, I wasn’t going to let you worry. I was going to call you when I got there."

"Stop talking."

"I just needed to clear my head."

"I mean it."

"I was only going to be gone a couple of days and -"

"Stop. Talking."

Her sobs intensified as she pushed her pants down and moved them aside with her foot. "You mom said that I’m like your dad and -"

"WHAT!?"

"I don’t want to be like him, Alex. I can’t do that to you. I can’t."

"She said that to you? What the fuck!? Is that - this is why you’re leaving? Callie, answer me!"

"She’s right!" Callie wailed. "I-"

"You are not like my father. You’re not. He refused to admit he had a problem and he was a piece of shit asshole who lived to hurt people around him." Alex glared at her. "Okay, maybe you have *that* in common, but -"

"Go to hell!"

"I’m there, Callie. I’m there!" He stalked closer to her. "You swore to me, SWORE, that you would never run from me! You said it! You said it on the roof of the Archfield and -"

"And you swore that you’d never leave so I guess we’re both liars!"

"A person can only be pushed so far!" he shouted. "Our *five* month anniversary is just around the corner and look at us! We spent most of the fourth month apart and now you’re trying to leave and -"

"For a couple of days!"

"I don’t want you gone for a *minute*!"

"It didn’t bother you for the three weeks you -"

"STOP THROWING THAT IN MY FUCKING FACE!" he bellowed. "I SAID I WAS SORRY AND I CAME BACK!"

"Stop screaming at me!"

"THEN LISTEN TO ME! BY GOD, CALLIE, TRYING TO TALK TO YOU IS LIKE SITTING IN THE RAIN AND WONDERING WHY YOU’RE WET! I CAN FEEL MY BRAIN CELLS DYING!"

"THEN STOP TALKING TO ME!"

"I told you! I said this would happen if we tried to discuss this mess tonight! Get your ass in the bed and -"


"Don’t tell me what to do! I am so sick of you acting like -"

"Callie-"

Melana charged into the room like a bull. Her nostrils were flaring, her hair was wild, and her cheeks were flushed with anger. She moved between her daughter and son in law. "Alex, go sleep on the sofa. Callie, not another word."

"Mom-"

"I SAID NOT ANOTHER WORD!" Melana commanded. "AND I MEANT IT! I AM NOT LISTENING TO THIS ALL NIGHT! MAYBE WE SHOULD SKIP GREECE AND GO SEE A LAWYER TO PUT AN END TO THIS MARRIAGE AND PUT BOTH OF YOU OUT OF YOUR MISERY!"

"How can you-" Callie began.

"Look at the two of you," Mel snapped. "Does this feel like a marriage to you? Because it doesn’t look like one from here. Oh, you both wear the rings, but you take them off far too easily. Those rings should act as a tourniquet that stops you both from going for the jugular and that’s all you’ve done lately."

"But-" Alex cut in.

"You left her," Melana told him. "So you deserve the panic you felt when you *thought* that she was leaving you tonight. That’s how she felt for weeks." Turning her attention to Callie, she added, "And that fear you’ve been feeling lately, where everything makes you jump, that’s how he felt watching you in that air show. So, you idiots need to decide if you’re even yet because if you’re not ... then end it ... because one upping each other could get you killed. By me."

Callie began to cry again. She looked at Alex and saw that he was just as shocked as she was by the suggestion of divorcing. He met her gaze and shook his head, reaching for her. She buried her face against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her, hanging on tight. "I’m sorry," she said. "I’m so sorry."

"It’s okay," he replied, kissing her head. He met Melana’s eyes, still stunned at her words, and the woman actually winked at him before she sashayed out of the room. He rubbed Callie’s back and said, "Let’s go to bed. Please? I can’t do this any more tonight."

She nodded and followed him to their room, where she crawled under the cover. A moment later, he spooned against her back. Neither spoke, but when his hand found hers, she threaded their fingers together and clung to him.

Losing him was suddenly far too real.


*~*~*~*~*~

"Don’t even think about it," Mark said, lifting his head from the pillow when Addison turned on the light and grabbed the diary. "We’re doing this snooping, nosy thing together."

Addison kissed him and yawned as she opened the book. "I dreamed about this thing last night. It was like I was watching a movie. Melana’s movie. It was so vivid."

"I did, too, actually." Mark stretched and got comfortable again. "So, read it."

"Dear Diary, I went to see Raphael in the woods today. I stopped at the orchard and found the biggest orange we had. When I arrived at his campsite, his tent was as tattered as my dress had been. It was lying on the ground in a heap and I didn’t see him anywhere. I was frightened to call out to him. I was building myself up for a full blown panic attack when he emerged from the depths of the forest.

"I didn’t have to tell him I was upset at the state of his campsite. He simply took one look at me and knew. He hugged me, kissed my face, and said he needed to find someplace safer. I don’t understand why he won’t tell me what he’s doing or who would have ransacked his pitiful home, but someone certainly did. I helped him pack his belongings and showed him another grotto, this one accessible only after a short underwater swim. It is set apart from the house and I’m fairly certain that only Demi and I know of its existence.

"I swam with him to the hideout and promised to bring him food. I didn’t notice that his movements were slow and exaggerated until he saw me shiver and walked to where I stood. He was hurt! I had his shirt off in mere seconds and the cut on his shoulder blade indicated that someone had attacked him while his back was turned. I had no special water to aid him toward relief, but he assured me that my tears had a similar effect. I kissed his shoulder for quite a while and it amused him so much that he smiled at me and told me that he loved me again. I wonder if anyone else in the world has ever felt the way that we do. I hope so because it’s a wonderful thing."

"My turn," Mark told her, holding out his hand for the journal. "Diary, Xenos has been cured. Mother thinks that the lord has finally heard her please, but I’m not at all certain that the Lord was there at Talking Rock. We prayed for Him to come, but I don’t believe he would have allowed the beating. A full month later and I still wear the marks of it. Perhaps Papa takes ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ too literally. If I have a family one day, I won’t allow anyone to hit them. I would never want anyone to feel the way that I feel.

"I digress. Xeno is doing quite well. In just the four short weeks since his midnight swim, there is meat on his bones and color tinting his cheeks. He awakens at dawn to frolic in the surf and I can already see muscle beginning to overtake his limbs. Athena Niarchos, that old cow, has apparently noticed this remarkable change as well because she has been calling on Xeno nearly every day. She claims that she cooks the pastries and tarts that she brings, but I feel quite comfortable in my belief that she only gets near the kitchen to steal food.

"Mama and Papa have gone to Egypt on business. They’re leaving from there and going to the United States. Oh, I’m so envious. I have never been to American, but since Raphael creeps into my room every night and tells me all about his home in Florida, I feel as if I’ve been a million times. He takes me to wonderful places every time he touches me.

"I told him that we are sinners, but he touched the scar on my back and disagreed. He said that I was a wingless Angel who could never truly sin. He said that my wings had been snatched away when I fell to the earth because people were jealous of them. He spoke with such conviction that allowed myself to believe that it had not been a belt after all ... that broke my flesh open. Of course, I know it’s a foolish notion, but his stories amuse me nevertheless.

"I want to fall asleep and wake up with him for the rest of my life. I told him a much and he swore he felt the same way. If we are the only people who share such a dream then I feel sorry for the rest of the world. Love is safe and strong and it renders me speechless every time he awakens those emotions in me. Which is quite often. I think perhaps we are hell bound, but what a partner I’ve found for the ride."

Addison smiled as she took the diary and flipped the page. There was more artwork there. Melana had perfectly captured what a young Raphael must have looked like. His smiling eyes had not changed in the slightest. "Dear Diary, Papa and Mama have been gone for six weeks. They do not get to see the full extent of Xeno’s recovery or witness my own deterioration. That night at Talking Rock, I told God that if he would spare Xeno, I would gladly take my brother’s sickness into myself. Well, God truly must have been within earshot because for a while now ... I’ve been very ill. I cannot go near the kitchen because the stench of food repulses me and even though I rarely eat ... I awake every morning in Raphael’s arms and lose the contents of my stomach.

"I do not feel well at all. I try to hide my discomfort because we are all overjoyed at Xeno’s good fortune, but Demi keeps asking me why I have a gray face and he worries himself over my full dinner plate returning the kitchen every night. I told him that I simply miss our parents, but that is a lie that I told with no real sincerity or conviction. Raphael brought me water from the spring last night and told me to drink it this morning. He still slumbers in the bed and I awoke to do as he requested.

"I pray that it helps. I fear, every time we fall asleep, that I will perish in the night. I know how it would wound me to awaken with my lover dead in my arms and I do not wish that on Raphael. I hope this affliction ends soon. If it must kill me, I’d prefer it happen while I’m alone." Addison shook her head. "She’s pregnant. Oh god... you don’t think her father will beat her for this, do you?"

"Turn the page and let’s find out."

A knock on the door forced her to shove the journal under the pillow. "Come in."

"Good morning, ma’am. Sir." Willa bowed, tugging at the stiff sleeve of her uniform. Barnacle said you wanted to journey to Talking Rock today. It’s a fine morning for travel. I think you’ll find that Greece after a rain storm is even lovelier than without. We’ve prepared a food basket for your lunch and stocked the boat with plenty of water. Will you be needing anything more?"

Mark watched the old woman scratch her belly, then her arm. "We need you to wear regular clothes. All of you."

Addison nodded her agreement. "The formality makes us uncomfortable."

"It does that to all of us, ma’am." Willa looked down at her uniform. "Thank you so much."

Mark grinned at the passion in her voice. "And we’d love it if the staff joined us for dinner tonight in the largest dining room. We’re lonely for company and I’m sure you all get tired of eating in the staff wing."

Willa was so excited by the invitation that she gathered up her already short dress and started to leave the room. She gave Mark and Addison quite a shocking glimpse of her garters before she stopped and looked back at them. "By the way," she said, letting her skirt fall. "Talking Rock is a magical place. It has been trod upon by nobility and blessed by Saints. You are welcome to everything she has to offer, but I must warn you not to consume her bounty with greed. If you are hungry, eat her first. If you are thirsty, drink your fill. However, remember that moderation is the perfect measure for everything and use restraint. There are eyes there that see all, hear all, and know all."

Addison and Mark exchanged amused looks when Willa bowed herself out of the room. The diary was forgotten while they dressed in comfortable clothing for their excursion. As promised, the boat was fully stocked with not only food and water, but several blankets as well. Barnacle, who escorted them to the small boat, warned them to go slowly and return before the sun set. He thanked them for the dinner invitation and waved them off. Addison turned at the halfway point to look back at Bounty’s Keep. She saw that he was still there and lifted her hand. He did the same, then turned and walked back into the grotto.

They pulled up to the dock at Talking Rock and Addison used an entire roll of film on Mark. She clicked her camera fast as he fell off the boat and into the water as he attempted to tie off to the dock. "You would think," she said, laughing. "after all the sailing trips with Callie and Alex ... that you would have your sea legs."

"I don’t see you doing it!" he snapped, pulling himself into the boat for the second time. "Do you think there are towels on this thing?"

Addison opened a hatch and nodded. "There are. Oooh, and dry clothing, too! Our clothes! They must have done our laundry."

"Can the Karakas-Torres clan adopt us?" he asked.

"AHA!" She pointed at him. "You said Karakas-Torres. I *heard* the hyphenation."

"No, you didn’t. And it’s not the same thing. I’m talking about two *different* families."

"Wrong. You’re talking about two different families who became *one* through marriage."

"Melana uses just Torres."

"So?"

"Take a page from her book."

"It’s a very nice book." She smiled when he stepped onto the dock and reached for her, helping her out. "Do you think it’ll be horrible? The rest of the story?"

"Probably, but we know the happy ending, baby." He leaned down and kissed her. "Let’s go play explorer."

"Your shoes are wet."

Mark led her to the end of the deck and toed off his sodden sneakers. "Barefoot explorer then." He dug his toes into the sand and sighed. "Ahhh, nice."

Addison handed him his dry clothing and shucked her own shoes, leaving them beside his. For good measure, she took a photo of them and laughed when he called her a ‘damn tourist’. She was still laughing when she followed him into the woods. She got a nice photo of his naked backside as he changed and hung his wet things over the limbs of the tree that had failed to hide his nudity.


Their first visit to the island had been brief. Xeno had been a gracious host, but they had not stayed very long. Now, they explored the ruins more closely and enjoyed the many stories they hatched about what could have happened to cause such destruction to the old church.

"Why do you think they didn’t rebuild it?" Addison asked, running her hand over a wooden pew that was pristine, though covered in ivy.

Mark glanced up at the gleaming white cross that rose high into the air out of the rubble. "I don’t know. Maybe they decided not to believe in fairy tales or -"

As soon as he said the words ... something bit into his foot. He yelled out from the shock and looked down. A scorpion was a few inches away from his heel and there was blood rolling down his skin. Addison followed his gaze, saw the creature, and threw the camera at it. Naturally, she missed and the heavy Nikon landed on his foot, causing him to hop up and down. "Addison, for Heaven’s sake!"

"KILL IT! SQUISH IT!"

"Stop yelling!" Mark snapped. He retrieved the camera and pushed the scorpion away. "Do you think it’s poisonous?"

"Aren’t they always?" Addison leaped onto the pew when the scorpion scuttled her way. "AHHHHH! KILL IT!"

"No!" Mark flopped down beside her, crossing his leg so he could see the damage to the back of his foot. "Can you focus here? I may be dying."

"Healing spring!" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Let’s go."

"I really think I should -"

"Come on!" Addison stood up in the pew and made a wide leap to the side to avoid the scorpion.

Mark followed her, limping slightly. He crossed his arms and watched as she rinsed the wooden cup and filled it at the waterfall. She held it out to him and he obliged, taking a few sips. She followed suit and nodded her head at the pond. "Okay. Get in."

"We are people of science, Addison. I’m poisoned and I need to go -"

"Get in before I shove you in," she replied, her eyes searched every inch of sand around her for another scorpion. "Hurry up."

"Please tell me you don’t believe this." Mark stepped into the pond, arms still crossed. "Because if you’re gonna go crazy I’d at least like you to .... wow."

"I know, right?" She grinned at him. "Isn’t it amazing?"

He squatted down and touched the surface of the water. "It’s hot."

"And tingly?"

"That too," he agreed. "Come in with me."

"I don’t have a reason."

"Jesus, Moonbat." He scowled at her. "It’s water. Water is only ever water and it can’t cure sickness or bites or cancer or -"

"You’re wrong."

Addison spun on her heel to look at Xenos, who was walking toward them with one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Her chestnut brown hair was streaked with gray and her sparkling blue eyes seemed to match the water behind her. Addy watched him assist the woman over a fallen limb and smiled in greeting. "Hi."

"Addison, Mark, this is my with Athena Niarchos Karakas. Athena, these are the newlyweds."

"Congratulations," the woman said, clasping Addison’s hand, then Mark’s. "I understand you’re friends with Calliope. Tell me, how is she?"

"She’s good," Addison replied. This was the Athena that Melana had beaten up for making fun of Xenos. She was tempted to comment about it, but the diary was supposed to be private. "She took a bad spill the other day, but she said she’s fine."

"She’s always fine. Nothing can keep that one down. She’s got her mother’s fire and her father’s heart." Looking down at the pond and Mark’s submerged feet, Athena added, "Did you hurt yourself, son?"

"Scorpion." Mark shrugged. "At least I think it was."

"They’re relatively harmless." Xeno shook his head. "I hate that you encountered one, though. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I’m fine. Let me just get out and -"

"Wait," the old man held up his hand. "You must close your eyes first and tell us what’s there?"

"There?"
"Just do it," Addy told her husband. "Before we shun the nonbeliever. Shunnnn."

Mark took a deep breath, shot her a look, and closed his eyes. For a moment there was nothing there and then Derek’s face appeared. He pictured his friend the way he had seen him in high school, after they had taken Derek’s father’s car out for a joy ride and wrapped it around a tree. Derek had suffered a broken leg and wore the same troubled expression that Mark saw him with now. Opening his eyes, he gasped and looked at Addison.

"I saw Derek," he told her and while he would never admit it, the hairs on the back of his neck danced upward. He looked at Xeno and said, "What does it mean?"

"You usually see your heart twin," Xeno explained. "But it could be anyone."

"What’s a heart twin?" Addison asked, recalling the way that Callie’s face had swam in and out of her mind when she had waded.

"The person your heart makes family. Everyone sees someone. It’s the ones that the closest, however, that matter the most. When you see a loved one ... you take them water." Xeno held up a mason jar. "I believe you saw Calliope. She’s the reason I’m here."

Athena pulled another jar from her purse and held it out to Mark. "Please. Help yourself. Take some to this ... Derek, is it?"

"Oh, I don’t think -" Mark began, stepping out of the water.

Addison elbowed him and accepted the jar, smiling at Athena. She kneeled down and scooped water into it, watching as Xeno did the same. "Is it okay ... can I ask you how you know about this place?"

"Certainly." Xeno screwed his lid back on and watched her do the same. "Every family has their tales. Some are funny, some are scary, and some defy logic. Every one of our ancestors wrote about this pond. They claim that people came from all over the world to bathe in it. They claim that it could cure whatever ailed a person.

"I’m not certain what affliction I had as a child. Research suggests that it may have been polio or cystic fibrosis, but I was never formally diagnosed. I was brought here at fourteen to wade into the water and I was never sick again after that." Xeno grinned at Mark. "And it *can* cure cancer. Athena was told that she would never have children because of cervical cancer and we have three sons and she never had treatment. Have you met Anita and Mario? Callie’s godparents?"

Addison nodded.

"She was told that she had three months to live. She had endured several horrific surgeries and then refused treatment after that. Her dream was to see Melana’s homeland and Mel brought her here to live out the rest of her days, but she wasn’t ready to die. So, we brought her here and now ... she’s in remission." Xeno shrugged. "Don’t ask me how."

Mark chuckled. "You really expect us to believe -"

"It is of little consequence to me what you believe, Mark." Xeno’s words were dismissive, but his tone was light. "But I challenge you to show me where the scorpion stung you."

Mark lifted his foot.

After five minutes, he still couldn’t find the wound.

Xenos and Athena said their goodbyes while he was still looking. Addison set the two jars of water in the sand and grinned at her husband. "Are you freaking out?"

"It’s not possible. As soon as my foot doesn’t look like a prune, I’ll show it to you."

"Athena mentioned that there’s a flower garden nearby. Want to go see it?"

"And risk running into more scorpions? Sure, why not?"

"Chicken." She took his hand, leading him around the pond. The thought of scorpions kept her eyes firmly on the ground.

After walking for a few minutes, they stepped into a clearing and gasped. For as far as the eye could see there was an explosion of color and blooms. Bluebonnets, daisies, roses, and more dotted every spot of the ground. Bending down, Addison gently pulled a rose closer, breathing it in. "Callie’s bastard flower! In abundance."

"Should these things be growing in this climate?"

She shrugged. "I’m a *scientist*. Not an agriculture geek. But it looks like they’re thriving."

"God, it smells good," he replied, squatting down beside her. "Or maybe that’s you."

"It does smell good."

Their eyes were hooded when they looked at one another. Addison reached for him first, running her hand over his face before she kissed him. A moment later she was on top of him and he was flat on his back crushing the bluebonnets as he tugged her shirt over her head. As frenzied as their passion was, the moment they were both naked, they slowed. Flesh against flesh should have had the opposite effect, but Mark was suddenly overcome by the desire to rub her down with rose petals so he did just that, slowly covering her belly and pubic area with the silky, soft petals that he plucked one by one. His only comment was that the thatch of red hair between her thighs matched the rose tips and then he was massaging the petals against her skin.

He settled between her thighs after a while, sliding his tongue along every inch of her until he buried his face against the source of her heat and devoured her. She arched her back, digging her nails into the thick, hearty soil that had grown such beautiful flowers. Their coupling was lazy, unhurried, but their release was anything but. They made love twice, discovering new and inventive ways to touch each other.

Spent, Addison curled against his chest and closed her eyes as the sun warmed her well sated body.

They were asleep within minutes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~
CH 8
*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mark, wake up. God, it’s freezing!"

Rolling onto his back, Mark watched Addison fumble with her clothing. She was right. It was cold enough for him to see his breath in front of him, which was illuminated in the glow of the full moon over them. "Jesus. How long did we sleep? What time is it?"

"My watch stopped working."

He sat up and hit the light on his own watch. "Hmmm. Mine, too."

"Someone’s here. I heard them calling us." She threw his pants toward him. "Get up!"

"I’m trying! Hypothermia, here!"

Addison yanked on her pants, shivering when the cold fabric pressed against her skin. She pulled her shirt over her head and wrapped her arms around herself as Mark dressed. He had just as much trouble getting his limbs to cooperate as she had. He was fastening his belt when Barnacle rushed into the clearing and bellowed that he had found them to the high heavens.

"We’re sorry," Addison hastily told him. "We fell asleep and -"

"Bloody hell," Barnacle replied, tugging his long pea coat off and putting it around her. "You look like you’ve frosted over. Come on, let’s go. It ain’t wise to stay here so late."

"What do you mean?" Addy asked, letting him lead her back through the thatch of trees.

"More than just the ruins of that old church haunt this island."

Addison heard Mark groan behind her, but she ignored him and let her eyes dance left and right instead. "Someone died here?"

"Yes, ma’am. Papa Karakas, Melana’s father, died in the wreckage of the church."

"What!?"

"Many people perished that day. Some good, some bad." With a shiver of his own, Barnacle bypassed the ruins entirely and half jogged to the dock. "We ought not to speak on it here. Or ever. Nothing rustles up restless spirits like calling their memory."

Willa, Jonesy, and Demi were standing on the pier, watching their approach. Willa wrapped a blanket around Addison, then did the same for Mark as Demi helped them into the boat. Demi started the engine and pulled away quickly, not looking back. Addison did look back, watching the remaining three staff members climb into their own boat and speed away. There was a thick, heavy fog hanging over the island and when she looked forward, at Bounty’s Keep, she noted that there was no fog there at all. She leaned closer to Mark and mentioned it.

"Maybe there are ghosts. On that show ‘Haunting’, there’s always mist or -"

"I didn’t know I married that psychic from Poltergeist. Could you stop?" he snapped. "It’s not cute anymore."

"Mark, there’s something about that place! I know you felt it! You did!"

He shook his head. "No, I didn’t."

"Liar."

"Addison, stop." He shook his head. "You’re not this damn gullible. They probably cook this shit up and do it to everyone who visits. Don’t be stupid and -"

"Enough." Demi slowed the boat, letting it idle at the halfway point. He turned and glared at Mark. "You didn’t make a very good first impression on me. You were forcing your *wife* to carry her luggage and I overlooked that, young man, but I will not let you imply that she’s stupid or that my family and staff are less than honest. So, unless you’d like to swim ... be silent."

Addison had to fight hard to hide her smile. She shot Mark a look that was mocking and slid off the seat, going to stand beside Demi. The old man put an arm around her shoulder, positioning her in front of him. "I don’t want you to fall. You steer us into the grotto, Red Robin."

Addison shook her head and started to protest, but he lifted her hands onto the wheel and pointed out the opening in the cliff. She stiffened when he throttled ahead and he put a reassuring hand over hers. "Xeno told us about the ship that capsized and the child who died. He also told us about the mother and the curse."

Demi made a soft sound behind her. "We thought with Melana it was broken, but it wasn’t. Granted, she had Calliope, but bad luck has followed them for it."

"Callie’s not doing so bad." Addison assured him. "She has a great husband, a beautiful home, and her career is really taking off."

Demi eased the wheel to the left. "She’s uneasy. Our Callie. I sometimes wonder if her soul ever sleeps."

They crept through the cliffs and Demi sailed the boat right up to the rocky ledge. He tossed Mark a rope and asked him to tie it off, then stepped out and helped Addison. She thanked him and turned, blinking in shock at the sight that greeted her. Most of the staff had come down into the grotto and she was pummeled with questions as they ushered her through a different passage that led straight into the kitchens. "Is this the cave entrance?" she asked, nothing that they had all changed out of their uniforms.

"Yes, ma’am," Eros told her, extending a hand to help her up a set of rocky steps.

"I’ve got it. Thanks," Mark said to him, taking Addison’s elbow.


Eros nodded politely, pushing his dirty blond hair out of his face. Cut short, the out of control curls still flopped onto his forehead occasionally. As Addison watched him, she wondered if Callie had enjoyed playing with those curls. She had little doubt that she would. He wasn’t the type of man Addison could see Callie finding attractive. He was almost too pretty. The roots of his hair were dark, dark brown, but he clearly spent time in the sun because of the blond streaks and his impressive tan. His blue eyes looked natural, nothing like Cambyses’s eyes, which were lightened to blue due to the contacts he wore. She smiled at him he insisted on giving her his hand over the roughest step. "Thank you."

"There’s a very large fire in the dining room. Your dinner is ready," he replied, inclining his head. "If you’d still like for the staff to join you, we’d be honored. If you’re tired and wish to have dinner in your room-"

"No, we’d like to have dinner with you all," Addison told him, beaming. "Lead the way. I don’t know where I’m at in this massive house."

They did have dinner with the staff. Demi even joined and made a spectacular toast to the newlyweds that included a thinly veiled threat about what can happen to men who don’t honor and cherish their wives enough. By the time they ate dessert, Addison and Mark were warm, full, and extremely amused at the antics of the staff. They found out that Eros was actually Willa’s son, but Jonesy never piped up to say that he was the man’s father. Jonesy stiffened and left the room when the old woman mentioned her ex-husband, causing Willa to excuse herself and say goodnight. Eros apologized and said that his mother’s new boyfriend had an impressive jealous streak.

They avoided talking about the island or anything paranormal. Instead, the staff brought story after story to the table until well into the night about Melana, her brothers, and her children. It was in agreement by everyone in attendance that Callie and Cambyses were by far and away the Bonnie and Clyde of the family, always in trouble, always bringing Melana’s wraith down on them. Addison yawned once, after two in the morning, and the party ended, the staff apologized for keeping them overlong, and then Demi was saying goodnight.

Walking through the drafty rooms renewed the chill that Mark and Addison had awoken with at Talking Rock and they were relieved to see that the fireplace in their bedroom was roaring. They took a shower together, bathing only, then they dived under the cover and discovered hot water bottles in place to keep the sheets warm. "I want to live here," Addy said, rubbing her icy feet over the bottle on her side of the bed.

"It reminds me of Hogwarts," Mark replied, splaying his hand against her belly. "Wanna roleplay? I could be Ron, you could be Hermione, and -"

"Peeves could come and throw dungbombs at us?" She smiled at him. "I don’t think Demi likes you."

"I don’t think I like the way he flirts with you."

"He does *not*. He’s a sweet, caring old man who -"

"Enjoyed being pressed against your back on the boat and you let him."

"Whatever." She chuckled. "You’re jealous of a geriatric, baby."

"Manwhores know manwhores."

"You’re reformed. Maybe you’re losing your mojo."

Mark stuffed his hand under the pillow and his knuckle brushed against the diary. He pulled it out and grinned. "Want a bed time story? We’re almost finished with this one and can jump straight into the one when he was seventeen."

"Absolutely!" She put her hands behind her head, getting comfortable.


He watched her for a few seconds. "Addy?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I treat you bad? I mean, Demi said -"

"Demi’s the old fashioned one, Mark. I know I said you were, but he’s got that whole mentality of the dashing, debonair gentleman. It’s okay." She met his eyes. "But if you call me stupid again I’ll let him know. I bet he has old fashioned skills, too, and will put your ass in a rack. Or a guillotine."

"Shit." Mark’s eyes widened. "You scare me."

"Read."

"Can I apologize first?"

"For?"

"Making you carry your luggage and for ... for the things I said. On the plane and earlier. I’m sorry."

She pushed herself up on her elbow and kissed him. "You are the love of my life. I’ll give you a free pass on a few things because of that."

"Well, that’s mutual." He kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you right back."

"Can I tell you something?" he asked.

"Oh God." She sat up all the way, glaring at him. "If you have flirted with or had sex with *anyone* in this house or - or that damn Bianca person who was useless on the plane -"

"What!?"

"Mark!"

He sat up as well, his mouth agape. " was going to say that for the first time in my life I’m homesick for a place where it always rains and I usually hate it, but I’m *so* ready to get back and see everyone again."

"Oh. Well, I feel the -"

"You think I’d cheat!?"

"The last time you said you wanted to tell me something ... you told me that you had cheated."

"The last time you said ‘love of your life’ you were telling that it was Derek and that was why you were going to Seattle."

"If you want to hear yourself talk, then read!" Picking up the journal, she slapped it against his bare chest. "Otherwise, I’m going to sleep!"

Mark flopped onto his back and opened the journal, angrily flipping to the page they had bookmarked. "Dear Diary, today Raphael and I fought. He wanted to steal one of Papa’s cars and drive me to the doctor. It’s a very long drive and I’m not very partial to riding in automobiles, but he kept pushing me until I lost my temper. He shouted at me and it startled me so badly that I dove into the water to leave the grotto that he has been hiding at for close to four months now.

"He grabbed my ankle before I was under the water entirely and forced me back onto the ledge. He said he was concerned and that his love for me causes him to lose control of himself. We made up as quickly as the fight started and he was very concerned when he saw my naked body. He thinks I’m deteriorating, but I disagree. The red dress that Demi bought for me for my birthday is tight. I don’t know how I’m gaining weight when I seldom eat and lose that each morning, but I’m definitely fleshier.

"A letter from Papa arrived. He said that the business he is attending in America is taking longer than they anticipated. I fear they won’t be here for my birthday. It’s only two days away. Seventeen. I’ll be seventeen and I hate to greet that new chapter of my life while I’m feeling so poorly, but Raphael has promised a surprise and I will greet that day with a smile because of that no matter how horrible my condition is."

Mark handed her the journal, saying nothing. Addison flipped the page. "Dear Diary, it’s my birthday. I awoke to the wonderful aroma of flowers. There must have been hundreds lying on every surface of my bedroom, even my bed. Raphael stood in the corner, smiling at me, with a small box in his hand. After he gave me seventeen kisses, he pulled me from beneath the warm cover and kneeled down at my feet. When he opened the box, I saw the most glorious ring inside and he asked me to marry him.

"I was crying too much to say anything. I’m fairly certain that I nodded because he whooped his relief and lifted me in the air, spinning me in a circle. That was not a wise thing to do. It made me very dizzy and I barely made it to the bathroom before I collapsed, sick once more. He held my hair back, bathing my neck with a cloth, and that ... that is where Papa found us. Me in my night clothes and Raphael seeing me that way.

"Everything happened so quickly that even now, I’m not at all sure I’ve remembered it correctly. Papa flew at Raphael, bellowing his rage to the high heavens. Then Mother appeared and added her own dulcet tones to the choir. I was a pitiable mess, still hovering over the basin, when she grabbed my arm and wrenched me to my feet. I don’t know how many times she slapped me, but it was enough to cure the nausea and replace it with anger.

"I remember shouting that I loved Raphael, that we were getting married, and then my father took his belt off and began to hit me. Oh, it was horrific, but he only got two licks in before Raphael grabbed the belt and wrenched it from him. He hit my *father* with it, striking his back, his legs, his shoulders and all the while he was screaming ‘How does it feel!?’. Demi and Xeno burst into the room and separated the two of them. I was sobbing, losing my meager dinner again, and Raphael rushed to my side, swiping at the blood on my back.

"Mother shocked us all then. She jerked me upright and pressed her hand against my stomach. In front of everyone, she asked me when my last monthly cycle was. I hadn’t realized that it had been three months. Time has flown with Raphael ... or maybe it stopped. When I told her, she crossed herself and announced that I was expecting a child. A child! Oh, my hand hasn’t left my stomach much since then. I’m so ecstatic to carry a life inside me, to carry a part of Raphael, but I digress.

"Raphael told everyone that we were getting married. The fight started once again. Father lunged at him and knocked me off my feet with the force that he struck Raphael with. He kept screaming that Raphael was supposed to protect the family, not plunder it. He kept saying something about guarding us in his stead and not making him regret turning against The Triad. I’m not at all certain what it all means, but I didn’t like the sound of it.

"Father kept saying that he had trusted Raphael because The United States said he was the best at his job. It was Mama who stopped it. She marched into the fray and screamed at the top of her lungs to make them stop. Quietly, she turned to Demi and instructed him to tell the Priest at Talking Rock to prepare. Well, naturally I thought she meant to give my intended his last rites so I screamed as well. That was when she announced that we would wed immediately.

"So, I write to you now as a seventeen year old child. When we speak again, I’ll be married and a woman. Mother says I can not wear a white because it will undo all the good at Talking Rock and erase the prayers of the Saints and quite possibly cause my death. I’m wearing blue instead. Raphael seems to like it and it’s made from the fabric we purchased at the market the first day I ever saw him. I’m excited, diary, but I’m terrified as well. Papa is angry. He won’t speak to me or look my way."

"Damn," Mark said, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Damn," she agreed.

They let the silence hang around them as they looked at the room. Both were imagining it filled with flowers and the proposal that took place just beside the bed. Addison finally opened the journal again. "There’s blood on the page."

"What?"

Addison held it out and watched him take it. He held it closer to the light and nodded his agreement. "I can’t read it," she said. "It’s tear stained, too."

Mark cleared his throat. "Dear Diary, oh, my hands are shaking so. Raphael and I were wed at noon. The old bell at the chapel celebrated our union with so many chimes that it my ears hurt from it. The only souls in attendance were Mama, Papa, Demi, Xeno, Raphael, me, and Willa, who sobbed into her handkerchief so loudly that Mama told her to wait outside. I saw her peering through the window and had to smile.

"How I wish we had all waited outside, however. When the first gunshot rang out, I thought it was the bell again, letting the world know that the wedding was over and we were one. Then I realized that the Priest was clutching his neck and blood was soaking through his fingers. Papa yelled something in Spanish and while Raphael has been teaching me ... I didn’t understand it. Raphael grabbed me and Mama, forcing us under a wooden pew, where we clung to one another in confusion and fear.

"Demi opened the seat on another pew and pulled out guns. Guns in church! I didn’t believe my eyes. Raphael snatched up a particularly offensive looking black rifle that fired so many bullets it could cut someone in two. I covered my eyes unable to watch as men in black suits began to return the gun fire and run into the church. There were so many of them and so many that were falling under the spray of bullets that Raphael and Demi were sending into the onslaught.

"I remember screaming and screaming and then Raphael was pulling me to my feet. I grabbed onto Mama and we followed him out the front of the church. He made us lie down behind the praying hand rock and stood with his back against it, watching the doors. Demi and Xeno rushed out next, shouting that they had set the charge. Xeno covered me with his body and Demi covered Mama with his and then the earth exploded and I was convinced that the island was going to be ripped apart. I felt debris hitting me and I couldn’t breathe because of the dust and sand that was billowing.

"When I finally did look again ... the church was gone.

"And so was Papa.

"I saw his hand, with his Karakas ring sparkling in the sunlight, in the wreckage of the doorway. He must have tried to leave with his family and was crushed at the last minute. Demi and Xeno were frantic, trying to dig him out, screaming that they had done it, that they had set the explosives, that he must not have heard them yelling that it was time. Raphael dropped his gun in the sand and dropped to his knees to help dig my father out. I didn’t hear the gunshots until one of the bullets penetrated my hip and pulled me out of my stupor.

"I turned my head and saw one of those men, the ones in black suits, crawling toward us. One of his legs had been blown apart, but his trigger finger was in working order. I picked up Raphael’s gun before he could get to it and I was still shooting the man even though there was nothing left of his head after a while. Raph took it from me and lifted my dress yelling for Stavros’s shirt. I didn’t want to leave Papa and neither did Mama because she sat beside him, clinging to his hand, begging him to squeeze her own.

"Raphael carried me to the boat, apologizing, begging me to be strong. I was. I think. When we pulled into the grotto, Mama was screaming, begging for someone to go back and get Papa. Raphael lifted me into his arms and took me through the passageway to my room. I looked back at the grotto over his shoulder and I could only think of my first entry into your pages, Diary. I had sat there with you in my lap and I spoke about the somber party I had hidden away from. I’d give anything to go back in time and remain at that party a little longer with Papa. He was angry with me when he died. He didn’t walk me down the aisle and when I tried to speak to him just before the ceremony, he wouldn’t let me. He walked away.

"Raphael has many friends in the area because while he attended to the wound on my hip, our house filled with visitors. They’re all men, all carrying weapons, and one big hulking man named Leon wordlessly helped him bandage my hip. Raphael says the bullet went through cleanly and he stopped the bleeding, but he wants me to remain in bed because of the baby. A doctor finally arrived, one that I did not know, and he examined me himself before the sun rose.

"Grandmama gave me another journal. She couldn’t be here today. I just know that she will regret that. Papa was her baby son, the youngest, and this will destroy her. Xeno came to visit me before the medication sent me back into oblivion and he said that he had gone back to Talking Rock with Demi and some of Raphael’s friends. They retrieved Papa’s body. I asked about the state of his face because I want to look upon him one last time to apologize, but Xeno simply shook his head. As I closed my eyes, I could only conjure the image of the man I shot ... I wondered if Papa looked similar. There was so much debris on him.

"Raphael crawled into the bed with me and held me as I drifted off to sleep. I didn’t cry. He had asked me to be strong and I don’t want to ever disappoint him, but I cried inside. I screamed inside. Then I felt guilty thinking the baby could hear it so I stopped. Raphael says he must speak with me today. He was gone when I awoke and I sat about filling your remaining pages. One year. In one year, I have lost my father, gained a husband, and nurture a life that grows in me.

"I think perhaps I will never go back to Talking Rock. I simply can’t. Papa beat me there once and then Papa was beaten there in the ultimate fight. His life was stolen, taken away underneath a place of salvation and beauty. I can’t look at that place with fondness ... even if it did cure Xeno of his affliction. Perhaps to cure someone ... it must take another.

"I bid you a fond farewell journal. There are only a few lines remaining. I will cling to you for the rest of my life and even though I must replace you now ... the pages of the new journal are not gold trimmed and I’m certain that it’s imitation leather so it’s no match for you in quality, but I hope the quantity I fill it with never rivals yours in sadness. Goodbye."

Addison brushed tears off her face as Mark closed the diary and held it out to her. She gazed down at the tear stained pages and shook her head. "I never dreamed - Mark, she watched her father die."

"Raphael’s in the mafia. He is."

Putting the sixteen year old diary down on the comforter, she retrieved the one for Melana’s seventeenth year and opened the first page. "She was right. It’s not as nice."

"Let’s read it, not judge the quality."

"Dear Diary, I’m not entirely certain I like your layout or the way your pages want to curl, but you’re all I have at the moment so I shall make the most of our relationship. Raphael has gone. Papa, even in death, found a way to separate us. It’s been two months since I’ve seen my husband and I’m not altogether sorry about the miles that keep us apart. He told me a story, you see. He told me a story that I’m angered by, frightened by, and so unsure of that I don’t know what to believe. Mother won’t confirm it, but Xeno and Demi assure me that it’s the truth.

"My father was a member of an organization called The Triad. It was a group of three countries who rallied supporters to fight against The United States. Why anyone would choose to go after a country that I have enjoyed learning about is beyond me and apparently my father had a change of heart when he saw Pearl Harbor. I was not yet born for Pearl Harbor, but with my father’s help, in 1941, hundreds of people lost their lives. The United States blamed the Japanese and they were definitely responsible for the worst of it, but my father funded it and helped lay out the game plan.

"After that, my father fell into the background of The Triad and only funded it, he didn’t participate in the horrible misdeeds that were occurring. But he didn’t stop them either. I’m not sure why he had a change of heart, but when I was only a child, he began working with the C.I.A. That’s an agency in America that I don’t fully understand yet, but they tried to do something good. They accepted my father, took the wealth of information he provided, and were able to arrest many, many bad men because of his testimony.

"For years, while I was angry at his travels, Papa was going to a state called Virginia to meet with the C.I.A. And that’s where he eventually met Raphael. Raphael was a ‘newt’. He was just graduating from the academy there when I was fourteen years old. For two years after that Raphael was assigned to protect our family. I never saw him until that day at the market so I can’t be sure that he was really there, but he promised me that he was, that he was always just outside the house, watching and keeping us safe.

"Demi ran across him just after my sixteenth birthday and demanded to know the truth. Because of that, Leon and Raphael told him everything and began to train him as well. They wanted someone inside the house who could keep watch and understand weapons. That’s what Papa and Raphael fought about in the grotto the day I overheard. Papa didn’t want Demi fighting, but Raphael told him that it wasn’t to fight, it was to protect if need be.

"Xeno, once he was healed, began to spy on the training sessions and then appeared one day as pretty as you please and demanded to be included. They had little choice but to allow it and that’s why muscles began to spring up all over his body. It wasn’t due to the morning swims. There were no morning swims. He was running with Demi at the time. Papa was enraged by this development as well, according to Raphael, but he allowed it to happen when he saw how happy Xenos was with his accomplishments.

"I wonder if Papa would have been proud of me, who has never touched a gun, yet opened fire on the man who would have killed me. And Mama. Raphael said I’m a perfect shot, but I don’t feel perfect. The baby inside me is growing and moving. I can feel him all the time. Raphael is gone and the loss of him can not be chased away by the baby, no matter how often it kicks me. He left only two short days after Papa died. He stayed for the burial and to carry me to and from the gravesite because I couldn’t yet walk at the time.

"He had to go to Virginia to give a ‘briefing’ about what transpired at Talking Rock. He left behind a swarm of agents, as he calls them. They’re always patrolling the hallways and grounds. Leon, I believe, spends most of his time patrolling Willa’s bedroom, but I can’t say anything. I’m angry at Raphael for leaving me. He claims that he’ll send for me as soon as my paperwork is in order. Mama isn’t helping us. She never leaves her bedroom and when I ask her for any documents on my identity, she throws something at me and says that she won’t talk to the devil who caused her husband’s death.

"She says that the curse on our family, the curse on me because I’m the only girl to be born in years, is what caused Papa to have to die so horribly. I did not remind her that I was not yet born when Papa put the ball into motion that eventually crushed him. He was not a good man. He was not a very loving man, but he was Papa and I can forgive him in death.

"I cannot forgive my husband, however. He has left me and the letters that arrive every week do little to make up for my empty arms and wounded soul." Mark had paused to stare at his own wife many times during the reading of that particular entry. She had met his eyes with the same disbelief, the same shock every single time. "Dude. Raphael is in the C.I.A.?!"

"That’s minor." Addison’s eyes grew even wider. "Pearl Harbor? Papa Karakas paid for that, Mark. At least part of it. This place - this happy, beautiful place is stained with blood money. It’s stained with - destruction. That’s why they never rebuilt the church." She took the diary from him and shook her head. "I don’t want to read anymore tonight."

"Me either."

Addison put the diaries and the letters back behind the oil painting that swung open and headed to the fireplace, where she opened the metal curtains and threw another log into place. "Do you think Callie knows?"

"I don’t think she does. I don’t think any of the kids do. Not all of it. Melana said she got pregnant at nineteen, but we know that’s not true. So, she’s been pretending to be two years older than she really is or -"

"That would explain why she looks so young."

"It’s two years, Addy, not ten."

She shrugged and crawled back into the bed. "We’ll read the letters tomorrow. At least the ones that came before the next journal entry."

"We’re supposed to go snorkeling tomorrow."

"Fuck it," Addison shook her head. "I need to know what comes next."

"Sleep first, baby. It’s almost dawn."

She didn’t need to be encouraged beyond that.

She fell asleep and despite her troubled mind, she didn’t dream.

*~*~

"Willa," Melana snapped, her hands on her ample hips. She eyed the head housekeeper, her best friend up and down. "Why are you wearing *overalls*? I sent you a suitable uniform. I’m sure Addison and Mark think we’re backwards and crass."

"Sorry, Mel," Willa replied, trying to hide her denim clad body behind Eros. "They insisted that we not wear the uniforms. Said it made them uncomfortable, they did."

"And did you complain at the top of your lungs to make sure they knew *you* were uncomfortable?" Melana snapped.

"Of course not." Willa shook her head so hard that the gray bun on the top of her head fell to one side, looking like a lopsided horn. She watched as Cambyses emerged from the limousine and raced forward, flinging herself into his arms. "Oh, you big hulk! Look at you! Why must you wear those devil eyes, son? You have brown eyes! Not blue!"

"Hi, Willa." He gave her a kiss on the forehead and plucked on of the suspenders on her overalls. "Nice. All you need is a straw hat and a banjo and you can be a Greek hillbilly."

"What is that?" Willa demanded, swatting him on the backside when he winked and walked past her. Greeting Blake next, Willa pinched his cheeks and told him there were cookies in the kitchen and then she turned back to the limo and her smile faded. "Calliope?"

"Hey, Will." Callie hugged the woman fast, not wanting her to see too much of her face. She had not bothered with makeup and she knew that the bruises were still shocking, especially in the mid-afternoon sunlight. She started to walk around the housekeeper, but Willa wouldn’t let her. The old woman touched her cheek, her eyes filling with tears. "I’m fine," Callie assured her. "It looks worse than it is."

"Who did this to you?" Eros asked, striding forward. He brushed her hair back and shook his head. "I’ll kill them with my bare hands, gorgeous."

"Cam already did," she replied, letting him hug her. Behind her, Alex cleared his throat and she pursed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Willa, Eros, this is my husband Alex Karev. Alex, these are two of the greatest people you’ll ever meet."

"Oooh, he's adorable," Willa said, hugging Alex tight, her arms around his waist. "Welcome to the family, son."

"Thank you." Alex patted her on the back, glaring over her head at Eros, who was touching a bruise on Callie’s neck. He extended a hand to the other man, one eyebrow lifted. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, I’m sure," Eros said without so much as a look in Alex’s direction. "Callie, do you need to lie down? I’ll happily take you upstairs and -"

"I’m sure you would," Alex replied, finally prying Willa’s arms off. "But I can handle it."

Eros finally gave Alex his full attention. At six foot five, he had several inches on the other man and he looked down his nose at him. "Is that right? You plan on aimlessly wandering around the upstairs until you find an empty room or would you like for me to show you Callie’s favorite room so that she can be comfortable?"

"I’m sure Callie knows the way." Alex reached down and took her hand in his, then walked past Eros through the front doors. "Excuse us."

Melana smiled at Raphael, who looked amused. "Ahhh, jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Willa asked, looking up at Eros. "Why would -"

"Apparently our children had difficulty keeping their pants on while Calliope was visiting the summer before her nineteenth birthday." Raphael crossed his arms, also looking at Eros. "Would you like to explain that to me?"

"EROS!" Willa shouted, slapping his muscular bicep. "What do you mean?!"

"She was older than me!" Eros cried, rubbing his arm. "I was seventeen! I didn’t know what I was doing!"

"You didn’t know what you were doing?" Raph asked. "Why then ... did it keep happening?"

"EROS!" Willa shouted again, slapping the exact spot she had moments before. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?"

"Owww, Ma!" He took a step back, out of her reach. "It was mutual! And - she seduced me!"

Raphael marched up the steps. "Run, Eros!"

The man complied, ducking back through the house. They heard the clattering of his feet on the stone floor and Melana laughed into her hand. Willa and Raphael joined her. Finally, Melana said, "How are Addison and Mark?"

"They gave us a fright last night." Willa explained about them falling asleep at Talking Rock and about Barnacle’s mad dash to find them. "Naturally, none of the rest of us would set one foot off the pier."

Melana looked troubled. "They never should have gone alone."

"They’re no worse for the wear, Melana, but please ... what happened to Calliope?"

As they walked into the front hall, Melana told her everything. Willa began to cry and had to sit down on the steps. Mel sat beside her, an arm over her friend’s shoulders. "When you collect yourself, Willa, please call Demi and Xeno and let them know we’re here."

"Yes, I will."

"Thank you."

"Is - is she okay? Calliope?" Willa asked, swiping her face with a bandana she pulled from her pocket.

"No." Melana shook her head sadly. "Most assuredly not. She pretends to be, but I know better."

"Perhaps the healing spring -"

"Can come to her. She will never go there again." Melana sighed. "Nor will I."

"Mom?" Cambyses walked around the corner, his hands in his pockets. "The bar’s fully stocked and there are hundreds of bottles in the wine cellar. Maybe you can get a lock put on it?"

Melana nodded and looked at Willa. "She almost killed herself with alcohol a while back and then she drank again the other day. Before the attack. She has a problem, Will. See that there is nothing left out for her to find and have Barnacle give me the key to the lock."

"I’ll take care of it." Willa nodded, squeezing her hand. "Despite the circumstances, Mel, I’m glad that my best friend is home."

"Your best friend is glad to be home."

*~*~*~*~*~

Melana crept into her old bedroom. She wouldn’t have entered without knocking, but the dueling snores that came from the room indicated that it would be safe enough. She was only interrupting their sleep, nothing more. With a smile, she pulled the cover a little more snugly around Addison, who was half on top of Mark, and kissed her head. "Wake up, honey."

Addison opened her eyes, gazing up at Mel. "What -"

"We decided we were homesick and came to interrupt your honeymoon." Melana patted her face, then smiled at Mark, who was blinking at her like she was a ghost. "Hello, handsome! Sleeping the day away?"

"Am I dreaming?" he asked. "Two beautiful women in my room and -"

"My room!" Melana pointed her finger at him, then pinched his chest. "And don’t flirt with the elderly. If you give me heart palpitations I may succumb."

Grinning, Addison sat up, grateful that she had worn her faithful flannel pajamas. "Your home is so beautiful. And your paintings ... oh god ... that one of the view of Talking Rock, I’ve never seen anything like it."

"It’s yours if you’d like it." Mel looked over her shoulder at the painting in question. "I’ve no use for it."

Mark and Addison exchanged a quick look before she turned back to them. With a deep breath, Melana said, "We’re very sorry to intrude on your honeymoon. If you’d like to go back to Egypt for the remainder or possibly to the United Kingdom, I’ll make certain you’re -"

"Are you kidding!?" Addison shook her head. "We’ve been homesick, too! How’s Callie? She told me about falling at the wedding and ... I’m glad that I can give up my reigning title as klutz of the year."

"She’s here." Mel forced herself to smile.

"Callie’s here!?" Addison jumped out of the bed. "I have to go talk to -"

"She didn’t fall down the stairs." Mel shook her head. "We wanted to tell you the truth, but she wouldn’t let it ruin your honeymoon and even now ... she’s trying to think up something that will lessen the blow, but - I don’t think anything can."

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked, sitting up.

"I need to let her explain it and -"

Addison didn’t say another word. She raced from the room calling her friend’s name. She spotted Alex first, carrying luggage down the hallway toward one of the smaller, darker rooms. He put the suitcase down and hugged her, hanging on tightly. Swallowing hard, Addison said, "What happened?"

"She’s outside." He let her go and picked up the luggage, not meeting her gaze. "She looks bad. So-"

"Outside where?"

"Out front. She said she wanted to see the orchard for a minute. And I can’t tell you what happened, Addison, because I don’t know what she’s gonna tell you. She may lie again to keep from-"

Addison darted down the stairs. Her bare feet were freezing, but she didn’t bother to turn around for shoes. She spotted Cambyses and Blake, but they didn’t speak and neither did she. She had *known*, she thought. Even when Callie was explaining about the nasty spill she had taken at the church, Addison had doubted the validity of the story. Some part of her was not shocked that it had been a lie because she had expected to hear at any given moment that something horrific had happened to her best friend.

She ran down the stone steps of Bounty’s Keep, darting around Raphael, who simply pointed in the distance. Callie was sitting with her back to the house and Addison was so relieved to not see a wheelchair or crutches or loss of limbs that she stopped running and worked on catching her breath as she approached. "Callie?"

Shoulders stiffening, Callie pushed herself to her feet, but kept her back to Addison. "Hey. Have you tried the fruit yet? You’ll never taste anything sweeter."

Addison stopped a few feet away. "Yeah, it’s good."

"I think I’ll walk down there and find an orange. I’ll be in later."

"Callie, wait." Addison closed the distance between them and put her hand on Callie’s shoulder. "Turn around."

"They’re just bruises. They’ll fade."

"Turn around."

Callie took a deep breath. "I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin your honeymoon. I didn’t want to come here, but -"

Addison stepped around her and gasped, covering her mouth. With her free hand, she cupped Callie’s cheek, then pressed a kiss to the worst of it. Saying nothing, she wrapped her arms around her friend and clung to her. Callie buried her face in her neck and gripped her flannel shirt. It felt like coming home ... for both of them.

"I missed you," Callie said softly. "A lot."

"I missed you, too." When Addison stepped back, she was crying. "You didn’t fall down the stairs."

"No." Callie wiped her own eyes. "I don’t want to talk about it, though. I want to forget it."

Addison looked into her eyes for a few seconds and that was all it took for comprehension to dawn on her. "Who did the rape kit?"

With a gasp, Callie shook her head. "Bailey, but it wasn't - they stopped him before he - how did you know?"

"Because I’ve seen that look on a lot of female faces. I never, ever wanted to see it on yours." Addison started to cry harder. "Can I help you? What - what do you need me to do?"

"There’s more."

"Tell me."

"You look cold. It can wait."

"I’ll freeze to death before I walk away from here not knowing."

"I’m about to see a look on your face that I never wanted to see there either," Callie sobbed and shook her head. "You’re going to be so disappointed and I hate it, but I can’t change it. I drank again, Addison. A couple of weeks ago. I got drunk with Sydney and then I almost did it again the day before your wedding and I - so help me God, Addy, I’d do it again right now, too."

Addison purposely kept her face impassive, even though it took all of her resolve. Her heart had fallen even further and she had thought that was impossible. Reaching down, she took both of Callie’s hands in hers. "You’re not going to do it right now. Or ever again. Because I won’t let you and because ... you owe me for lying to me about what happened to you. What the hell were you thinking!?"

"I didn’t want to ruin your honeymoon," Callie repeated. "This should be the best time of your life and -"

"Cam may be your biological twin, but I’m your heart twin and I knew that something was wrong. You’ve been on my mind this entire time and -"

"You’ve been hanging around Uncle Xeno."

"I didn’t need him to tell me that. I know what you are to me." Addison brushed a tear off Callie’s cheek, lingering to touch the discoloration on her jaw. "Who did it?"

"A waiter at your wedding."

"WHAT!?!? This - this happened at the Church?"

"Yeah. I think my relationship with God has been annulled."

"How far did he - I mean -"

Callie didn’t need to let her finish. "He was cutting my dress off when Derek tackled him. Derek got hurt and needed surgery on his arm, but he’s fine. He’s okay. And Cam --- Cam killed the guy. He’s wracked with guilt over it because --- you know, he *killed* somebody. And all I can think it that I’m the reason and -"

"Don’t you dare feel guilty." Addison shook her head. "Because it’s *not* your fault. Any of it."

"The guy who attacked me bought me the first drink the night I got drunk with Sydney. So, yeah, Addison, it is my fault. If I hadn’t done the air show, if I hadn’t forced Alex to leave me, I would have been home with him that night and that guy wouldn’t have remembered me at your wedding."

"That guy was probably a sick bastard who would have gone after you no matter what, Cal."

Callie regarded the red head for a while. "You’re supposed to be yelling at me."

"Oh, I plan on it, but right now I’m basking in having you here and it’s impossible to yell and bask at the same time."

"I want someone to yell at me. I need someone, anyone, to be as pissed at me as I am. I was kinda hoping that would be you."

"We’re Thelma and Louise, Callie. I’d go over a cliff with you and I’d smile the entire time because you were there, too." Addison pushed her friend’s hair back. "When it doesn’t hurt to look at you ... I can yell at you .. it’s that’s what you need from me."

"Promise?"

"I do."

Callie smiled at her. "I really do love you."

"I really do love you, too." Addison bent her toes. "But I’m going to lose my feet if we don’t go inside."

"I’m going to go to the orchard." Callie glanced up at the house. "Yeah, oranges are good."

"Nope." Looping her arm through Callie’s, Addison headed for the front steps of Bounty’s Keep. "I’m not going to yell at you and to compensate for that ... I’m going to stick to you like glue and make sure you don’t give me any more reasons to snap your neck like a twig."

"Damn! You’re taking a page out of my mother’s book."

"If you only knew."

*~*~*~*~*~

Mark put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. "I’m sorry. I wish - can I do anything?"

"You can check the stitches on her leg," Alex replied. "She was supposed to be getting them removed later this week, but here we are."

"You don’t seem too happy to be here."

Glancing out the window of the bedroom, Alex could only shake his head. He definitely was not happy. At all. Callie had stayed in a private room of the plane for the most part, not eating, not talking. He had tried to talk her into watching a movie or playing a video game, but she refused, gazing out the window and not really meeting his eyes. He had stuck by her side for the entire trip, asking her questions and trying to engage her in conversation, but the most he got was an occasional yes, no, or I’m not sure. She hadn’t spoken to her family either. The most she had said was to Eros and that was just infuriating as far as Alex was concerned.

"Is there something else going on? You two aren’t back together or -"

Alex looked at him. "We caught her trying to run away last night. She had fueled her plane to go to Alaska and we had a horrible fight. I don’t want to fight with her while she looks the way she does, but it’s like ... she wants me to. She wants all of us to."

"Of course she does," Mark replied. "Having you all scream at her while she’s black and blue proves that nothing has changed. She's still Callie, she's in there. If you can lose your temper it means that you’re still passionate and you still care enough, even with the bruises, to let her have it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Mark chose his words carefully. "I do a lot of reconstruction on victims of violent crimes. A lot. Too much. And they always say the same things. That they’re getting the scars removed or their face put back together because people don’t treat them the same way. They don’t want that to be the first thing people see. They want it to be like it was. Callie’s probably thinking the same thing. That you all look at her and see the bruises and you won’t speak up and take her ass to the mat for being dumb. That’s why she was running, Alex. To make you lose it, to prove that you can open both barrels and not feel sorry for her."

Callie and Addison came into the room. Mark flinched when he saw her, but he pulled her into his arms and said, "Bet the other guy looks worse."

"Bet the other guy looks dead," she replied, smiling at him. "Do you like the house?"

"Love it." Mark let her go and watched her close the blinds. "You’re blocking out a perfect view of Talking Rock. That place -"

"Is evil," Callie said. "I hate it."

"You hate it?" Addison asked, frowning. "We loved it. It’s beautiful over there. You told me it was hallowed, you didn’t say -"

"Oh, it’s been blessed. Many, many times." Callie shrugged. "It’s consecrated, but I don’t think prayers can go that deep. How far did you go when you explored it?"

"We got to the flower garden."

Callie shivered and flipped a switch, starting a fire in the grate. "Beyond that ... there’s a clearing with a stone altar. The women of my family used to go there and practice The Thesmorphia. It was a ritual sacrifice where they would call on Kalligeneia to bless their crops and fortify their land while they slaughtered pigs to mix with their corn seed. They eventually graduated from pigs to people. They killed a child, a boy, who was sailing through with his mother. She put strange symbols all over the house and desecrated the altar and then she killed herself.

"And one by one all of those women who participated in The Thesmorphia died that same year, but the flower garden, which was never there before, cropped up bigger and better every day. A lot of people say that Karakas women carry a curse and that each individual flower type that grows there was born of their deaths. There are eight types that grow in abundance and none are really native. There were eight women, too." She looked back at the closed blind, picturing the island in her mind. "It should be burned to the ground."

"You’re mother named you after Kalligeneia." Addison said. "Right?"

"Yeah." Callie took a deep breath. "She thought that giving me that name would break the curse and stop pissing off Kalligeneia. Clearly, she was wrong."

"I have no idea what you people are talking about," Alex said. "All I can say is ‘huh’?"

Callie grinned at him. "Everything planted on that island multiples. The Karakas women who slaughtered *people* for their crops got their wish. Everything blooms year round. But over here, on this side of the water, it’s a struggle to get *anything* to grow on our land."

"The fruit trees are doing great," Mark said. "I’ve eaten so many oranges I may never be the same."

"No one with Karakas blood can tend the orchard," Callie told him. "Everything dies if they do. My great grandfather was the one who realized that. He hired men from the market to work instead of using his sons and the crop was huge. Since then, we’ve always had gardeners."

"Let me see if I can get this straight," Alex scratched the back of his head. "There’s a demon island across the water where your ancestors, all women, killed people to get a better crop. And now you’re cursed because of that and Karakas blood kills fruit trees. Am I doing okay so far?"

"But the healing spring," Addison blurted. Mark nudged her and she added, "Your Uncle Xeno told us that it cured him of his sickness."

"He’s an old man," Callie replied. "Just smile and nod."

"But you asked me to tell him to send you some water." Addison reminded her. "What was that?"

"That was me humoring him."

"You don’t believe it?" Addison asked.

Callie scoffed. "Uh, no. Water is only ever water and it can’t *cure* anything except dehydration."

"Oh my god!" Mark pointed at her. "I said almost that same thing word for word."

"Let’s see where the scorpion stung you, Mark," Addison snapped. "Oh, that’s right. He got in the water and it went away."

Callie chuckled. "Of course it did. We used to purposely get stung because it was an adrenaline rush and the welts faded within ten minutes."

"He was bleeding," Addison pointed out. "It should have left *something*."

Mark and Callie exchanged amused looks. Callie said, "Is she a believer?"

"I think so," he replied, shaking his head. "She’s about one step away from joining the Ghostbuster Admiration Society or the Psychic Friends Network."

"I have a jar of water in my room, Callie," Addison told her, ignoring Mark entirely. "Why don’t you prove that water is only ever water."

The smile faded from Callie’s bruised face and she shook her head. "Some other time."

Melana knocked on the door and poked her head inside. "Calliope, why have you chosen the darkest room here? For Goodness sake, the yellow room is available."

"That’s why it’s available. It’s *yellow*." Callie wrinkled her nose. "I like *this* room."

"Alex?" Melana shot him a pointed look.

"It’s fine." Alex glanced at the black walls and navy blue curtains. "Who was the decorator?"

Coming all the way into the room, Melana moved closer to the fire, prodding the wood with a poker as she turned the gas starter off. "My mother took my father’s death very badly. This was his office for a while, the place he spent a majority of his time when his business travels allowed him to be home. After he passed away, my mother had the walls painted black for mourning and the bed brought in for herself. She stayed here in this room for years, never coming out, because she felt closer to him here."

Addison glanced at Mark. "Uh, Melana what happened to your mother?"

"Oh, honey, that’s not a very good story and -"

"She committed suicide," Callie said, cutting Melana off. "She jumped off the glass balcony and fell to her death. Which, you have to admit, took balls."

Melana gave her daughter a look that caused Mark and Addison to back up. Alex casually moved between the two women. Undaunted, Melana addressed Callie. "You think that takes balls? You’re right. It takes a hell of a lot more than *you* have. It’s not difficult to drink yourself into a stupor, is it? After a while, you don’t even think at all. The liquor numbs everything. That’s a *selfish* way to die because you should *feel* it, but you’re nothing if not selfish."

Addison took Mark’s hand and pulled him from the room. Alex watched them go, wishing he could join them. "Melana-" he began.

"No, let her say it." Callie interjected. "The floor’s all yours, Mom."

"Loving you is exhausting," Mel told her. "Exhausting. You seem hell-bent on pushing Alex away, pushing us away, and destroying yourself, but you’re forgetting one very important thing when it comes to me. I can’t give up on you. I carried you inside me. I’m you’re worst enemy and you’re biggest fan. So, you can push with both hands, hell, you can drink with both hands and after I finish knocking you on your ass ... *I* will be the one who pulls you back up because I have to. You’re *mine* and you will never push hard enough that I can’t reach you."

"I know -"

"Calliope, I’m not finished so keep your mouth shut." Melana straightened her spine, pulling herself to her full height. "I am very sorry that you were attacked. I am very sorry that anyone would dare hurt you as much as this man did, but you will not hide behind those bruises. You are accountable for the drinking and as God is my witness ... you will admit that, face it head on, and bury it because it will *not* happen again."

Callie opened her mouth, but Melana held up a hand. "Still not finished, sweetheart." Strolling forward, Melana looked her in the eye. "Welcome to rehab. Perhaps we should call it Camp Hell."

"What?"

"The first thing you’re going to do is move to the yellow room. Because it’s *cheerful* and it’s high time you leave the dark." Melana tilted her head to one side. "Then you’re going to eat dinner and not pick at it or push it around on your plate and then - then you’re going to sit your *cheerful* ass in the blue room for an intervention. Now, I’m finished, but the only thing out of your mouth better be ‘okay’."

"Okay." Callie’s eyebrows had vanished behind her bangs.

Melana nodded and started to walk out of the room, but Callie caught her hand. She waited to see what her daughter would say, then gasped when she wrapped her arms around her. "Honey?"

"Thanks, Mom. You - you heard me. What I couldn’t say."

"Loud and clear, mi vida."

The remainder of the evening progressed just as Melana said it would. Callie and Alex moved into the yellow room and Alex told his wife it was much, much better. They had dinner and Callie ate, aware that everyone was counting her bites ... in Cam’s case ... out loud. Her uncles arrived after dinner and they both had horrible reactions to her bruises. Xeno wanted to fly to Seattle, find Randy’s body, and strangle him for good measure. Callie had to laugh and it felt good. Because Xeno was the runt of the family and had a case of Napoleon complex that always made him go for violence first.

The intervention was informal. Everyone lounged comfortably in the blue room with their bellies full and a stack of cookies in front of them. Alex sat on Callie’s left, Addison to her right, and Mark sat in the floor with his back against Addy’s legs. Instead of putting Callie on the spot by telling her how her drinking had impacted *them*, they each told her how it affected *her*.

Melana talked first. "Seeing you in the hospital after you almost died was surreal. Because you’re not that person. You’re not weak or sickly, but alcohol made you both of things. You still wear the scars inside, on your liver and pancreas, and it’s something you’ll have to deal with for the rest of your life."

Raphael cleared his throat. "You’re smart. You’re way smarter than your brothers which is why I only got one doctor out of the bunch, but that one doctor is amazing. You’re good at your job. I’m proud of you, but you can’t be a doctor and have this addiction because there could come a time that you’re hungover or still a little tipsy and someone gets hurt. I want you to have the career, Mija, because you worked hard for it."

"Well, that was kind of rude and insulting to *me*. I could have been a doctor. A witch doctor." Cam bit his bottom lip when Callie smiled at him. "I can always tell when you’ve been drinking, Cal, because your voice is sad. I don’t think drinking makes you very happy and life is so short that we have to hang onto what makes us happy and let go of the rest."

Beside him, Blake nodded. "I agree. Plus, you’re game face is more believable when you’re sober. A drunk could not have pulled off the demon dog. That was the genius work of a non-intoxicated mind."

Demi took a deep breath. "I gave you wine when you were ten and you spit it all over me. You hated it. I’d gladly let you do that again and again if it would help. I would gladly die if you'd only-"

Xenos rolled his eyes. "Demitri, must you always make the grand, sweeping gesture?"

"It’s a gay thing," Cam told him. "We’re all about exaggeration."

"You’re gay?" Mark asked Demi.

With a nod, Demi said, "I would make the exception for your wife so keep walking the chalk line, buddy, because I’m watching you."

"He’s a hair puller," Xeno told Mark, then looked at Callie. "You’re our girl, Opie. Our pride and joy. I held your hand when you took your first step and I remember thinking that you were one step closer to walking away. Alcohol makes your step crooked and you struggled so hard to stay upright. Stay upright, darlin’."

"I won’t lie to you ... you’re a funny drunk," Addison said, taking her hand. "But you’re a lot wittier when you’re sober and we have more fun without it than we ever did with it. I mean, how many people can say they’ve glued their head to the wall and their ass to the toilet and can’t even blame beer?"

"God, that was funny," Mark laughed. "The first time I met you, Callie, you were drunk. You were very, very drunk. And ... you didn’t have ... well, you know what happened and -"

"We don’t." Demi’s eyes were narrowed. "Please, enlighten us, Mark."

"Some of us know and wish we didn’t," Raphael told his brother in law. "Let’s leave it at that."

"Red Robin," Demi called to Addison. "Does being a widow appeal to you at *all*? Because now it’s personal for me."

"Sorry." Addison kissed Mark’s head. "He’s a changed person which means that there’s hope for Callie, too."

"I was never a sex addict," Callie said softly, so that only her friends could hear.

Alex and Mark both coughed, masking their ‘bullshits’ as they did it. They grinned at one another, then Alex looked at his wife. She had her eyes downcast and the smile on her face wasn’t convincing. "I guess I’m the last one who needs to say something, huh?"

"Be gentle," she told him under her breath.

He lifted her hand and kissed it, then kissed her cheek. "I love you. Even at your worst, you are still the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know you. That’s the worst part, Gothika, because I know that you’re better than this, that you don’t know *how* to let something beat you. Drinking for you will be a slow suicide because of the damage that you've already done. To quote our favorite movie ... would you consider me as an alternative to suicide? Because it’s forever either way. Death is final, but so are we, and there’s still so much of our story to tell. I’m not ready for that last chapter. I’ll never be ready and it kills me to think that you might be."

"I’m not," she replied, swiping a tear off her cheek. "I don’t *want* to drink again. I swear to God, I don’t."

"Then don’t," Melana said. "Your first word was ‘no’. You said it nonstop. Keep saying it ... it should come easy to you."

Callie nodded, leaning her head against Alex’s shoulder. He hugged her, kissing her head. "Are we done?" he asked. "She’s tired."

"Are we done, Callie?" Raphael asked, his eyes locked on hers.

"I heard you," Callie glanced at Melana. "Loud and clear."

"Then goodnight. Sleep well." Melana got to her feet and hugged Callie. "I love you. Always."

"I love you, too." Callie kissed her cheek and looked around the room. "All of you. Well, maybe not Mark, but -"

"Hear hear!" Demi said.

"But I like you an insane amount," Callie told Mark, who grinned at her, then caught her leg. "What?"

"Let me take a look at those stitches."

"Oh, it’s fine," she told him, but he lifted her pants and did it anyway.

"This *has* to be Chief Webber’s doing." Mark shook his head. "He always drifts to the left. I think he’s asleep at the wheel sometimes."

"Don’t talk about our boss!" Addison smacked him on the back of the head, then looked at the wound herself. "Damn, it is crooked."

"Guys!" Callie held her hands up.

"I can fix it when we get back to Seattle. I am a scar expert!" Mark smiled up at her.

"Egotistical *and* rude," Demi said. "This is why I don’t like pretty men."

"Pretty men don't like you," Xeno replied. "Yanni wannabe."

"Dwarf."

"Old coot."

"Chihuahua."

"Kitten."

"Shut up!" Melana snapped at her brothers. "Why am I the only one in this family to mature past fifteen?"

"You're a solid ten at the most," Xeno told her, snatching the cookie from her hand. "But we'll keep you."

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 9
Dedicated to: tv_junkie118 <http://tv-junkie118.livejournal.com/>, nycbadgirl <http://nycbadgirl.livejournal.com/>, and greys_addict <http://greys-addict.livejournal.com/>, who are a constant source of inspiration, motivation, and celebration. You guys are made of win. :)

Callie sat on the edge of the boat, her feet dangling in the water. The black bathing suit she wore was modest, but it plunged in the back to reveal bruises that Cambyses had not yet seen. He had been unable to hide his reaction when she took her shirt off and no matter how she tried to reassure him, he had still gone below deck and she found him crying in the bathroom. It put a damper on the scuba diving trip, but only a brief one. She cracked a joke about Blake and his Speedo and Cambyses pulled himself together. He also told her that every bruise he saw on her made it easier to deal with the fact that he had killed someone. So, she showed him several on her thigh and pulled her suit aside to show him her ribs. After that, there was a bounce in his step and Callie breathed a sigh of relief.

She tired easily, which was why she returned to the boat to watch the others. She hated that her body simply would not let her stay in the water any longer. Muscles currently ached, her head was pounding, and her ankle was throbbing from the stab wound there. Lifting her foot, she gazed down at it. Mark had removed the stitches in both her leg and ankle that morning and she thought it looked pretty good. How it felt, however, was another story altogether. Both areas had swollen slightly from the stitch removal. And probably from her walking the orchard for over two hours.

"Hey." Alex kissed her knee and smiled up at her, still submerged in the water. "What are you doing?"

"Being lazy," she replied, smoothing his wet hair off his forehead. "You really took to this snorkeling thing."

"It’s fucking cold." Alex rested his chin on her leg, smiling. "Come back in and get me warm."

"The water is like ... four degrees."

"You in that suit? That would heat it pretty damn fast."

She slipped off the side of the boat, her arms around his shoulders. "How’s that?"

He moaned a little when she wrapped her legs around him. Cupping her backside, he kissed her, long and slow ... and they promptly went under. They came up laughing and she playfully tugged his ear. "You’re supposed to hang onto the boat, Jock Strap. Otherwise we’ll sink."

"What man in his right mind would hang onto the boat when you’re here?" He hooked his arm through the ladder anyway, and pulled her a little closer. "Put your legs back around me."

She complied, smiling when she felt how hard he was. "My goodness, Alex. There are eels in the water. Do you really want them to have anything else to bite?"

"If we were alone ... I’d make sure it was hidden." The smile on his own face faded when she stiffened in his arms. He could have kicked himself. The rape crisis worker had warned him privately against making sexual references or advances for a while. He moved his hand from her backside and placed it on her waist. "So, that story you were telling about your women ancestors ... that was a joke, right?"

Callie pulled the top of her suit a little higher, hating that she felt the need to. "No. Not a joke. Cam and I made a career out of snooping. We found old journals that were probably a hundred years old or more in the secret passages of the house. I don’t think anyone else ever read them because they were in pretty bad shape, but everything was chronicled there. My uncles like to tell the story that was passed down for generations, though. They’ll tell you that a boat capsized in the grotto and a child drowned there, causing his mother to say that we were cursed to have only boys for taking hers."

"Where did they hear that?" he asked, willing his hard on to go away.

"I don’t know." She looked over his shoulder at Bounty’s Keep. "What I do know is that they carved the place right into the rocks because they knew that the only foundation they had was made of lies and supported with destruction. So, they built it there ... thinking that the rock would be strong enough to hold it up. It may look impressive, but it’s a house of cards."

"Do you hate it here that much?"

"I don’t hate Greece. I love the food, the people, and the scenery. But I don’t like the history here and I don’t like that any part of that runs in my veins."

"Everybody has a bloody history, baby. Everybody."

She rubbed her hand over his shoulder, which was sunburned. "Have you called your mother?"

"No."

"You should. She’s probably worried."

"Melana left her a message. And the ferret."

"I’m sure she’d like to hear that you’re okay."

"I’m not okay where she’s concerned. I have not forgotten what she said to you or that you were running right after she said it. I know that was a big reason you were flying to Alaska."

"I really cannot handle messing up your relationship with your mother. So, forget it happened and call her. She didn’t mean anything by it, Alex."

"She has only been in our lives for ten months. That’s not enough time for her to know *anything* or have the right to comment about it." He absently adjusted the strap of her suit. "What did she say exactly?"

"I’m not doing this."

"Tell me. Please?"

"She just reminded me that your dad had a problem with alcohol and she said that you didn’t deserve to live through that twice. And she’s right." Callie let her legs fall from his waist and climbed the ladder, lifting a towel and wrapping it around her body.

Alex followed behind her, grabbing one for himself. It was warm, having been left in the sun. "Callie, it’s different."

She pursed her lips and stared out at the horizon, trying hard not to cry. "I just want you know ... if we have kids -"

"*When* we have kids."

"When we have kids," she amended. "I won’t treat them the way your dad treated you. And you won’t have to be like your mother."

"Where is the coming from?" He ran a hand over his hair, then his eyes widened. "Did she say that? Did she mention kids, Callie? Did she actually imply that you - that we -"

"She’s worried about you."

Alex pulled her around to face him. "My dad was more than just a drunk. He was addicted to cocaine for a while, then he moved on to heroin. And he never, ever had a year of sobriety from *anything*. He was cruel, abusive, and didn’t give two shits about his family. He couldn’t hold down a job, he didn’t know what self respect was, and he tormented my mother every second of the day. You are *nothing* like that."

"Are you sure? Because my family may tell you that I don’t give two shits about them. And I seem to be really good at tormenting you."

"You have *got* to stop this. I have never known anyone who loves their family more than you do. And I think I made it very clear last night that I love you. Yes, you have flaws, but so do I. We’re not perfect ... unless we’re together and then we’re *invincible*." He hugged her. "So, can we stop now? Can we just stop the doubt and the guilt and the second guessing and be *happy*?"

She nodded against his shoulder. "That sounds really good."

"Good." He kissed the tip of her nose then smiled when Addison shrieked in the distance, cursing Mark for scaring her. "Addison seems pretty hell bent on believing in healing springs and stuff."

Callie sighed. "Apparently. She never should have gone to Talking Rock."

"What happened there? To make you hate it? Was it just the sacrifice or -"

"No, but that was enough."

"Then what -"

Cambyses climbed onto the boat and Callie breathed a sigh of relief. She did *not* want to discuss Talking Rock. "Hey, you," she said to her brother. "Waterlogged enough?"

"I’m cold enough to hang in a meat locker to thaw out." He told her, bundling a towel around his shoulders and putting another over his lap. "Mark found a dead eel and ran it over Addison’s legs so she’s trying to drown him and Blake is trying to mediate. As for me ... I come out of the water when there’s any kind of death around."

"I heard that," Callie told him, sharing a knowing look.

"Uncle Xeno said he spotted a blue shark right around here the other day. Said it was about fifteen feet long, but that makes it closer to twelve because he claims to be five nine and we all know he’s closer to four nine." Cambyses chuckled when Alex dropped his bottle of water and scrambled to get it. "Awww, is somebody scared of a wittle fish?"

"There are sharks?" Alex asked, scanning the crystal clear water.

"Uh, ocean," Cam replied, pointing around them. "That’s where they live."

"Blues are pretty harmless," Callie assured Alex, leaning her head against his shoulder as she stifled a yawn. "I think I have jet lag."

"Let’s round our shark bait up and go show them the waterfall and cave and see if we can convince someone to jump off the Lager Cliffs." Cambyses got to his feet and whistled, waving at the others, who swam their way.

"If we’re going to get someone to jump, Cam, then it should be off the Devil’s Pitchfork." Callie grinned at Alex. "It’s eighty five feet of pure, stomach dropping free fall."

He didn’t look very impressed as he stepped forward to pull Addison onto the boat, then Mark and Blake, who scrambled into the towel that Cam held out. Callie was the only one Demi trusted with his new boat so she sailed them to the waterfall, but no one wanted to get back into the water. The wind from the ride had chilled their wet flesh to painful proportions so they contented themselves with snapping photos and listening to Cam talk about the rock formations.

After sailing through underwater caves, which they did explore for close to an hour, they were dry and warmer. Alex didn’t have to wonder why the rock formation that eventually loomed ahead of them was called the Devil’s Pitchfork. There were three towering rocks that were jagged and pointed at the top. The one in the middle stood taller than the ones that flanked either side and Alex could see the many ropes that had been secured to the sides of the stones to make it easier to climb up.

"Holy crap," Mark said, staring straight up. "Do people actually jump off that?"

"All the time." Callie idled the engine and smiled at him. "Feeling brave?"

"How deep is the water here?" he asked.

"Deep enough." Cambyses pulled on a pair of rubber shoes and tossed a pair to Blake, who shook his head.

"I did it once. That’s more than enough for me. I woke up with gray hair the next day." Holding the shoes out to Alex, Blake smiled. "No one should visit Greece and not do it, though."

Alex was aware that Callie was watching him closely. He slipped the shoes on and looked at Mark. "You coming?"

Mark glanced at Callie. Melana and Raphael had told them all about how scared she was. Of everything. "If she does."

"Oh, Mark," Addison said, shaking her head. "I don’t think that’s a -"

"Okay," Callie said, shutting the boat off and dropping the anchor.

Alex opened his mouth to protest, but Mark shot him a look. Callie pulled on a pair of water shoes and held a pair out to Addison, who gasped, "Who me?"

"Yes, you," Callie laughed. "Thelma and Louise, remember?"

"Damn it," Addison grumbled, pulling the shoes on. "I have *no* upper body strength so I’ll probably plummet straight to my death just trying to climb up there."

"What a way to go." Cam patted her on the back and dove into the water, breast stroking toward the rocks.

Mark followed suit, then Addison. Alex caught Callie’s arm and said, "Are you sure you’re up to this?"

"I was *born* for this," she assured him, kissing his lips before she dropped over the side.

"She’s not lying." Blake joined Alex at the edge, watching her cut through the water. "Mark’s got the right idea. If you let her hide behind you then she may always hide. She has to confront her fear head on and if *this* can give her back a little of the bad ass we *know* she has ... then make her jump ten times."

Alex grinned when she climbed up onto the rock and put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "I better go."

"You better." Blake shoved him off the side and bowed, grinning when he heard Callie’s laughter, then he reclined comfortably in the captain’s chair to watch the show.

*~

"Okay, it’s almost like a ladder," Cam said, touching the grooves in the side of the rock to prove his point. "There are hand and foot holds the entire way up and the rope is there in case you need it. It leans, so you don’t need a lot of strength to do it. You could almost do it with just your feet."

Addison started to walk back the way they had come, but Mark caught her around the waist and said, "You go ahead of me. I’ll catch you."

"I’ll go up first," Cam told her. "You just step where I step and let me know if you need a hand."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Addison said, watching Cam begin the climb. "I can see it now. The headlines. Four Idiots Who Claimed to be Educated Doctors Fell Off The Devil’s Pitchfork In Greece, Thereby Proving That Medical School is a Crapshoot."

"Go," Mark told her, half lifting her up the wall. He watched her dig her toes in and hang there. "Up, Addison. You look like a bat."

"If I were a bat, I’d bite you. Or at the very least I’d flail all over your head." She took a deep breath and reached up, grabbing a handhold. "Oh god, this sucks."

Callie watched her friend, telling her which place to put her hand. When she was a good twenty feet in the air, Callie nodded at Alex. "You’re next."

"I should go behind you," he said. "Of the two of us, I’m the one who is mostly likely to fall and -"

"If I’m under you ... you’ll take me with you and believe me, I’d want you to. Couldn’t live without you." She gave him a kiss, hugging him. "There’s one part that’s a little tricky at the top. Cam will be there to help you."

"I feel like the Dread Pirate Roberts." Alex began to climb. "And these are the clearly the Cliffs of Insanity."

She let him get several feet up the wall before she climbed up behind him. To amuse him and take his mind off the fact that he was not very fond of heights, she started the dialogue from the ‘The Princess Bride’. In a heavy Spanish accent, she spoke Inigo’s line. "I don’t suppose you could speed things up."

"If you're in such a hurry, you could lower a rope or a tree branch or find something useful to do."

She couldn’t say the next line. "I’m enjoying your ass. That’s pretty useful. For me at least."

"Don’t deviate from the script!" he said, glancing down at her. It was the wrong thing to do. He stopped climbing and dug his fingers deeper into the crevice.

Callie stopped as well. "Alex?"

"Gimme a second."

She wrapped the rope around her arm and swung out to one side, landing to the right of him. She climbed up so that they were face to face. With one arm still tangled in the rope, she kissed his cheek. "You’re almost there, Jock Strap. Don’t look down. Look up."

He did as she requested and saw that Cam was peering down at them from ten feet higher. Addison and Mark had already scaled the top. "Okay."

"You’re about to understand why I do things like this," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "When you get to the top and jump ... you’re weightless. You’re flying. Without wings, without a safety net, without a care. The only thing you hear is your heartbeat. The only thing you feel ... is free. It’s just a few seconds ... but you’ll never forget it."

"Are you freaks coming?" Cam called. "Because Addison’s threatening to call for a helicopter to come and get her."

Alex gave her a kiss before he climbed up the rest of the way. Cam pulled him up and leaned down to help Callie, but Alex shook his head, dropping onto his stomach with his hand extended. The view down caused his heart to drop again, but seeing her crawling toward him was enough to make it worth it. He fleetingly thought that it was like pulling her from the abyss to be with him. That, more than anything, made it worth it.

When she was on the solid rock surface, Callie hugged him. "Good job."

"There are rocks in the water," Cambyses said, rubbing his hands together. "So choose where you land very carefully because we’re a pretty damn good looking bunch and if we have to die ... we should be able to have an open casket. Pancakes aren’t pretty."

"Shit, Cambyses!" Addison cried, slapping his arm. "Can you stop acting like your sister!?"

Mark gritted his teeth, looking down for the second time. He could see plenty of rocks and none of it made him happy. Cam clapped him on the back, causing him to gasp. "Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’ll go first." Cam looked at Callie. "You gonna talk them down?"

"I’ll talk them or kick them," she replied.

"Good show." With a salute, Cam turned and pushed away from the rock, leaping head first.

Callie moved to the edge, smiling when she saw him do a couple of flips and break the water with a clean splash. He waved at her and swam toward the boat. "All clear. Who’s next?"

"Mark," Addison said, hugging him. "Just in case one of us -"

"Stop it!" Callie shook her head. "If you speak it, you’re inviting it."

"Cam said pancakes!" Addison cried. "And-"

"It’s okay." Mark gave her a kiss and moved to the edge, scanning the rocks. "Should I go head first or -"

"Nope. Hit the water feet first." Callie pointed at a big, clear spot between two rocks. "That way you won’t get turned around. Hopefully. Try to land right there."

Mark took a deep breath and exhaled. Without another word, he pushed off the rock and a moment later, hit in the exact location Callie had told him to aim for. He surfaced and waved to say he was okay and Addison almost sat down from relief. Instead, she clutched Callie’s arm and said, "This is crazy."

"Mi vida loca," Callie said, pulling her closer. "Tuck your arms over her chest. It’ll hurt your boobs if you don’t."

Addison covered her breasts and nodded. Five minutes later, and with a little impatient nudge from Callie, she jumped (fell) and screamed the entire way down. Laughing, Callie shook her head and watched her friend emerge choking and sputtering. "I forgot to tell her to breathe on the way down."

"I should have jumped with you on our honeymoon," Alex said suddenly. "On the bridge in France. Because you wanted to and it would have made you happy."

"I didn’t need to jump for that. Everything you did made me happy. Everything you *do* makes me happy."

He joined her on the edge, taking her hand. "Can we do this together?"

"You’ll have to let me go before we hit the water," she told him.

"I can let you go." He touched her cheek. "Because I trust that you’ll always come back."

"I trust that you’ll always come back, too."

"I’m not going anywhere. Ever again. Do you trust *that*?"

She nodded. "I do."

They faced the water and she said, "Aim between those two rocks. We’ll hit side by side. On three. One, two -"

"Three," Alex said, jumping.

Callie was right, he thought. They were weightless, flying, but still attached to each other. He felt her wedding ring just before he let her hand go and crashed into the water. When he surfaced, she was grinning at him. "Did you feel it?" she asked.

"I only felt you." He pulled her closer. "My wings, my safety net. And I’ll be high on that for the rest of my life."

"Get a ROOM!" Cambyses called. "Let’s go! It’s fucking cold!"

"I SHOULD BE AN ONLY CHILD!" Callie called. Her brother pulled his swimming trunks down and mooned her. She pretended to vomit as she pulled away from Alex and swam for the boat.

Cam tugged her on board and reached for Alex, then drew up short. "You’re bleeding, Callie."

Mark slipped off the deck seat and kneeled behind her, swiping at the blood. "It’s the cut on your ankle. I guess climbing wasn’t such a great idea."

Alex checked it for himself and swore, digging through the side panels of the boat for a first aid kit.

Wordlessly, Addison pulled a jar from her beach bag, unscrewed the lid, and threw the water inside on Callie’s leg. It was ice cold and Callie cried out from the shock of it. "Addison!"

"Sorry. It looked dirty." She put the lid back on the jar and stowed it in her purse, her eyes never leaving Callie’s ankle.

"Is that healing water?" Mark asked, rolling his eyes.

Callie gasped. "Is it?"

"What if it is?"

Cam shoved Callie off the boat and jumped in behind her. She came up coughing, but said nothing as her brother stayed under and rubbed her leg and foot like he was bathing it. When he came up beside her, his eyes were wide. Aware that everyone was watching them, she shook her head and smiled. "You’re so clumsy!"

"I can’t help it." Giving her the biggest, fakest laugh of all time, he added. "I slipped."

"What are you doing?" Mark asked, gazing back and forth between them.

"Nothing. Accident." Cam took the hand Mark extended, then helped Callie into the boat once more. Everyone noticed that he lifted her *over* the water that Addison had thrown. He went so far as to carry her below deck and when he emerged, she was not with him. He carried a mop instead, which he wet in the ocean, then scrubbed the deck with it. For good measure, he used a towel last, soaking up any excess. He left the towel *and* the mop on the rocky ledge and started the engine, sailing them toward home.

Alex headed below deck, followed by Addison and Mark. It was nothing like Goon Docks. The quarters were small and cramped, but they sufficed. Callie was sitting at a small table with her head down. "What’s going on?" Alex asked.

"Cambyses doesn’t like spring water," Callie replied, not lifting her head. "He thinks it’s dirty."

"I’m sorry," Addison said. "I didn’t think about germs or anything."

"It’s cleaner than the ocean," Mark assured her, still watching Callie. He spotted a first aid kit on the wall and opened it, rifling through the contents. "We should clean the cut and bandage it."

"I’ll do it." Callie stood, then quickly sat back down thanks to the glare Alex gave her.

"Let me see it," Alex said, reaching for her foot.

"I said I’ll do it."


"Callie, come on."

She took a deep breath and lifted her foot. Alex pulled the water shoe off and set it aside, then raised her leg. "What the -"

Mark squatted down beside him and ran his fingers over the wound. It had been red that morning, swollen and puckered. Now it felt smooth except for a small welt. "Holy fuck."

"Tooooold you," Addison sang, looking pleased with herself.

Callie glared at her. "The day you got in the spring ... your feet hurt, right?"

"Right."

"How far did you wade?" Callie asked her.

"Just to my ankles."

"Notice anything?" asked Callie. "Like, *my* ankle."

"What do you mean?" Addison made a face.

"It’s how it works." Callie pulled her foot away from Alex and Mark. "You went in to your ankles and then Mark got bit on the foot by a scorpion. And because you put the water on me, someone else will have to carry my pain so that means that *they’ll* get hurt."

Mark’s brow wrinkled. "I don’t get it. Are you saying I got stung because Addison walked into the water in the first place?"

"Yes. Nothing is ever free."

"You said it wasn’t true! You said it was fake!" Addison reminded her.

"Like everything else on Talking Rock, it gives more than it takes, but it does *take*. It never stops taking." Callie looked at the back of her leg, where the cut to her calf had been splashed as well. One side of the incision looked like a crudely drawn smudge with a red crayon, the other side was still swollen. "Everyone should be careful for a few days and -"

"You should get in the spring, Callie. It would help your bruises and -"

"Addison, have you heard me at all? Suffering through pain makes a person stronger. Giving it away when you *know* that someone else will have to deal with it in your place ... that makes you a coward." Callie gripped the edge of the table. "I could submerge in there right now and tomorrow ... or maybe the next day ... my dad could fall down the stairs and bruise his entire body. Or my mom could get in an accident. Or Alex could -"

"I think any of us would take your pain," Addison interrupted. "So, if you really think this spring could -"

"No!" Callie emphatically shook her head. "Listen to me! You know that movie ‘Pay It Forward’? Well, that’s what you do when you go in that spring. You pay your pain forward. Whatever’s ailing you. My uncle Xeno was sick. He was *dying* when he got in there. Two days later, one of his best and only friends, was crushed to death under a rock. It bent his spine like an accordion, the same way Xeno’s spine was always bent."

"Who paid for my pain?" Mark asked.

"Who do you think?" Callie replied, looking down at her foot again. "It wasn’t bothering me until *you* took the stitches out. And if *someone* had not ambushed me with water, it would have ended there and I could have broken the cycle."

Alex massaged his forehead. "Is this really a conversation that we’re having? We’re talking about a *pond* that can apparently think for itself. We’re having an actual talk ... with that in it."

"You can’t argue with the proof!" Addison said.

"Guys, we’re home!" Blake called. "I can smell lunch from here. I’m *so* hungry."

They walked up the steps and watched Blake tie the boat off to the rocky surface of the grotto. He turned and smiled at them, then hopped onto the stone. He was not wearing his water shoes and both of his feet went out from under him at the same time. Laughing, he slid into the water and waded back to the ledge, reaching for Cam’s hand. "That’s why I didn’t even *think* about climbing Devil’s Pitchfork. I feel clumsy today and - and - Cam, oh God."

"Blake?"


"OH MY GOD! IT’S GOT ME!" Blake screamed.

Alex and Mark rushed forward and grabbed any piece of Blake that Cam wasn’t clinging to. As they pulled him out of the water, Addison screamed.

The blue eel with the scar on its head had its jaws clamped around Blake’s ankle.

Callie splashed into the water and pried its mouth open, causing her own fingers to bleed as its teeth knicked at her skin. Finally, it let go and she tossed it behind her. Alex tugged her onto the ledge and she bent down, pressing around the bite on Blake's leg, feeling for broken bones. Blake cried out and she nodded. "Definite tib fib separation. He’ll need an X-ray. We’ll call Demi. He’ll take him in the helicopter."

Cam nodded, shot Addison a look that could kill, and with Mark’s help, carried his boyfriend through the cave passage. A passage that he despised as much as Callie.

Callie put her hand on Addison’s arm. "You didn’t know."

"I’m pouring out the water we were taking to Derek," Addison replied.

Alex watched the red head hurry after the others before he looked at his wife. "Callie-"

"Do you believe it now?"

He raked a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. "Can we just go home? You know, where water is water and curses are what Bailey does to us every time we fuck up?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Blake, Cam and Demi returned after dinner. Blake used crutches to walk and modeled his cast for everyone. Addison, who had barely said three words, looked ready to cry. Demi hugged her, rubbing her back. "Xenos never should have introduced you to the power of the spring. If he was going to show you, he should have fully explained what you were dealing with."

"It’s okay. I got an aerial tour of Greece," Blake told her. "Plus, I’ve never been hurt before. I get to milk this for all its worth."

"You already are," Cam said, kissing Blake on the side of the head. "Now sit down before you bust your ass again."

Demi watched as Addison sat next to Blake, then turned and looked at Callie. "How bad are your hands, Opie?"

"Not bad."

Demi motioned at her, indicating that he wanted to judge for himself. He tsked over the cuts on her fingers and she joked that perhaps her fingerprints had been permanently altered. No one laughed. With a sigh, she returned to Alex’s lap and looked at her mother, who was gazing at the fire. "Mom, you okay?"

"I thought that Xeno had gotten it out of his system, the infatuation with that place."

"He’s the only one of us who will set foot there," Demi told her. "I have it on good authority that he’s sneaking water to people who could benefit from it. Without their knowledge, of course."

"Willa says that Athena *cooks* with it. I should have smothered her when we were children." Melana crossed her arms over her chest, still regarding the fire. After a moment, she looked at Callie. "There’s an Izzie Stevens in every generation, mi vida. She lost interest in Xeno for a while and tried to tempt your father. I was quite pregnant with Stavros at the time and when she lifted her skirt under the pretense of tying her shoe and showed him her garter, I beat her with a piece of driftwood that made her wear *pants* around us from that day forward."

Everyone *did* laugh at that. Raphael reached over and took his wife’s hand. "I was so angry at you for that. For exerting yourself so much in your eighth month."

"Yes, I know," Mel said. "It forced you to *leave* me for five months."

"WHAT!?" Callie and Cam both cried.

"I was on *business*. I had no choice in the matter. I only came back for a weekend to visit with her and make sure she was okay." Raphael smiled at Alex. "As unforgiving as Callie can be ... I can assure you her mother is a million times worse. Stavros was a *toddler* before she would speak to me in whole sentences."

"Stop talking, Raphael, because I can feel myself building toward a tantrum because the memory of your abandonment doesn’t sit well with me." Melana smiled at Willa, who carried in two large pictures of lemonade and glasses for everyone. "Will, do you recall when Raphael visited for the weekend after Papa’s death?"

Willa crossed herself and glanced heavenward. "It’s been etched right into my brain, Mel. I’ll never forget the way he ran through the house when you took out after him with a rolling pin."

"It was an iron skillet. Perhaps your brain has been shaken like an Etch-A-Sketch." Melana accepted the lemonade Willa gave her. "Though, I’m sure you well remember his screams when I caught him."

"Yes, ma’am." Willa gave Raphael a good natured pat as she handed him a glass. "Sounded like an orca whale that was being beaten about the head. Such pipes. That’s where Calliope gets it."

Demi had to laugh. "I was in the orchard and *I* heard it. It was horrific."

"Why were you so pissed at him, Mom?" Cam asked.

"Well, how would you feel if your husband of a very short period of time left you pregnant, alone, and in turmoil?"

Cam looked at her. "Shocked. Because I don’t have pregnancy parts or a husband."

"Sure you do. The last part anyway," Blake told him, taking his hand. "So, what did he say that made you so mad?"

Demi leaned forward and his seat. "Yes, Raph, do tell what you said."

Raphael cleared his throat. "I said, ‘Hello, mi vida’. And she flew at me with a pan as big as she was. I thought for sure she had lost her mind."

"I didn’t know what you were calling me." Melana smiled, clearly recalling it. "And I didn’t know who you thought you were to speak to me at all. Much less in a language I didn’t understand. So, after I beat him into the sand ... he told me what it meant."

"My life," Raphael said. "Hello, my life. And even though I could barely move for two weeks ... I was very, very pleased with my life."

"You weren’t so pleased that you stayed," she retorted.

"I wanted to. You know that I tried."

Melana looked at Alex and Callie. "That’s the difference, see. He wanted to stay and *couldn’t*. People today *can* stay and take the easy way out when there’s the hint of trouble."

"I don’t think that’ll be a problem from now on," Alex said, resting his chin on Callie’s shoulder. "Raphael, you were gone for five months? So, you missed Stavros’ birth?"

"I did. It wasn’t as easy to get messages to people back then. And he came two weeks earlier than what we thought." Raphael sipped his drink. "But I came back when he was two weeks old, thinking it was time, and there he was. Mel was feeding him and I felt like she had hit me with the frying pan again. All the wind was knocked out. I had gone from having a wife ... to having a family. It was enough to scare me to death."

"You did faint." Melana shook her head and grinned at Addison. "Do you see that a lot when you deliver babies, honey?"

"All the time," Addison replied with a smile. "But it’s usually during and not after."

"I fainted from the fear that she would attack me again," Raphael chuckled. "Luckily she only threw water on me and stalked back to the bed."

"I heard him clatter to the floor and by the time I got there," Demi said, "she was standing over him with a vase and I swear to God I thought she had murdered him while she was still holding her baby."

"So, why did you forgive him, Mel?" Mark asked. "If he left you and you were that upset, then why-"

"My forgiveness seemed like a pretty small gift when I was holding the baby he had given me." She held her hands up. "Just wait until you have children. You learn that nothing matters as much as keeping your family together."

"You don’t have to have kids to know that." Getting to her feet, Callie stretched. "I’m exhausted."

"Yes, jumping from cliffs is very taxing, isn’t it?" Mel narrowed her eyes.

"WHO TOLD!?" Callie snapped.

Addison raised her hand. "Accident."

"It wasn’t an accident," Mark corrected. "She can’t keep a secret. Ever."

"She asked me what we did today." Addison looked apologetic. "But since we *all* did it ..."

"CALLIOPE was just injured." Melana got to her feet and hugged her daughter. "And I can’t imagine you’d enjoy rectal surgery to remove my foot. Which you’ll need if you don’t keep your damn feet firmly on the ground for the time being."

"Goodnight, Mom." Callie kissed her father, then ruffled Blake’s hair. "You feeling okay?"

"Morphine? Good." He gave her a lunatic smile. "Who knew?"

Alex said goodnight as well and followed Callie from the room. He took her hand in his and kissed it. He was so busy watching her that he didn’t realize that they weren’t heading to their room. He opened his mouth to ask where they were going, but she flipped on the lights in the largest bathroom he had ever seen in his life. The tub looked like a pool and it was filled, steam fogging all the mirrors. "Wow," he whispered.

"I need to wash the ocean off." She stepped away from him and pulled her shirt over her head.

He enjoyed the view, watching her strip down to nothing. When she turned to face him, he held his hand out and led her to the tub, helping her into it. Sitting on the edge, he helped her lean back. She looked up at him with wide eyes a second later. "You coming in?"

Alex shook his head. Once again, his body was betraying him and his desire for her was painfully evident in the front of his jeans. "Not tonight. I already took a shower. Remember?"

"It’s a huge tub."

He smiled when she went under and wet her hair. He lifted a bottle of shampoo and filled his hand with it. When she resurfaced, he massaged it into her scalp, laughing when she groaned. "Feel good?"

"So good."

He moved to her neck, massaging the bubbles in there as well. She dropped her head down and he lifted a plush wash cloth, soaping it with something that smelled like cherry blossoms. He ran it over her back, careful not to press too hard, then took her hand, soaping her arms. Taking a moment to study the marks on her fingers, he said, "Did I mention that you're brave?"

"I’m not brave. Eels just don’t bother me."

He brushed shampoo off her forehead before it could drop into her eye. "Not much does. You’re fearless, remember?"

"Vaguely. I - I used to be. I feel like he - he stole my spirit or something. When he attacked me."

He tilted her chin, giving her a soapy beard. "That man didn’t take anything from you, Callie. If anything, he shook us up just enough to make us remember why we’re here. I hate him, but he made me see how fast I could lose you so he didn’t take anything ... he put us back together."

Alex moved to her legs, soaping one, then the other. "I mean ... I wouldn’t be sending him a Christmas card or anything ... you know ... if he was still alive ... but I have to give him credit for pulling my head out of my ass. It was wedged in there pretty fair. That’s why I was such an asshole to you. I was in constant pain."

She smirked because he was rambling and he usually rambled when he was nervous. When he moved the cloth over her stomach, she saw how tight his jaw was and how he was not looking down at her. He was focusing on the tile behind the tub. "Alex?"

"What?"

"Make love to me."

He stopped moving at all and met her eyes. "It’s too soon. I - I don’t want to hurt you."

"You’ll hurt me more if you don’t." She pushed herself to her knees and took the wash cloth from his hand, letting it fall into the water beside her leg. He was definitely looking at her now. "I’m ready, Alex."

"Baby-"

She kissed him, pressing her wet chest against the front of his shirt. A moment later, she felt his hand tracing her hips, her back. "I’m ready," she repeated, then clapped a hand over her eye as shampoo dripped in it.

"Maybe you should rinse first," he laughed, watching her dig for the rag again. "Tell you what ... I’ll go start a fire in the bedroom and you think about this while you finish up. If you still want -"

"I do."

"Then I’ll be waiting." He kissed her again and left the room.

Callie finished her bath in record time. She took just enough time to dry her hair, brush her teeth, and rub lotion into her skin before she put on a robe and headed down the hallway. Melana was walking toward the double doors that led to the glass balcony and she jumped when she saw Callie. "What are you doing roaming the halls, Calliope? You looked like a ghost."

"Sorry. I took a bath in the big tub."

Melana nodded, pulling the sleeves of her own robe down self consciously. "Well, goodnight."

"What are *you* doing roaming the halls?" Callie asked, looking her mother up and down. "And red lace? Really?"

The doors to the balcony opened and Raph peered out, wearing only his boxer shorts and socks. His eyes widened when he saw Callie and he slammed the door, then reappeared a moment later wearing a fluffy white robe that matched Callie’s. "Is something wrong, Mija?"

"Well, there wasn’t!" she cried, scandalized. "What are you doing!? On the glass balcony!?"

"Oh, for heaven’s sake!" Melana snapped. "Do you think that you pioneered it with Eros? I can assure you that your naked ass isn’t the only one to leave an imprint. We should call it Peepshow Hill."

"Ew. Ew. Ew." Callie put a hand over her face. "I’m gonna walk away now."

"Wait," Melana said, catching her arm. She looked at her husband and raised a brow. "Go back out there, Raphael. I need a moment."

"Okay, okay." Raph winked at Callie and slipped back out onto the balcony.

As soon as the door closed, Callie sniggered. "Mom, he has on sock guards! Can you please tell him that’s not sexy?"

"Listen to me." Melana touched her cheek. "If you’re about to do what I think you’re about to do then let me remind you that Alex has hands just like your father’s. They’re firm, but soft. Strong, but gentle and you’re safe in them. You chose someone just like your father, actually. He has a temper, he can rage like a wild fire, but he will eat out of your palm if you let him."

Callie looked confused. "What do you think I’m going to do?"

"You really are *not* as good at acting as you’d like to believe." Melana pushed her daughter’s hair to the side, then straightened the collar of her robe. "It would appear that this place erases inhibitions. Your best friend is in the theater and she is *not* watching a movie."

"How do you know that?"

"We don’t stock porno. Sound effects, honey."

Callie smiled. "Must be something in the water."

"Must be." Melana wiggled her eyebrows and opened the door to the balcony. "See you in the morning. Now get!"

Freezing, Callie hurried to the yellow room and was relieved to see that Alex had kept his word. There was a fire roaring in the grate and she hurried to the hearth, facing it, enjoying the heat. She had not seen Alex, but she could feel his eyes on her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him in the corner, sitting in a wing back chair. Saying nothing, she untied her robe and let it fall to the floor. The chair creaked and he joined her, kissing her shoulder so softly that she barely felt it, but her pulse quickened all the same.

It had been over a month. The longest, most grueling month of her life. When his hands moved to her hips, she leaned back against him and closed her eyes. If she had expected a reminder of the attack, a flash of Randy’s face, it didn’t come. What she saw was Alex the day they got married when he was given the go ahead to kiss his bride. He had moved in slowly, looking at every inch of her face before he leaned down and captured her mouth with his and that ... that kiss happened again when he turned her toward him.

It was slow, deliberate and full of promise ... just the way it had been that day. "Alex," she sighed, euphoric at the feel of his breath against her neck. Reaching up, she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it over his shoulders. Hungry kisses landed all over his chest and when he bent down and scooped her into his arms, she didn’t have to be told to wrap her legs around him. He carried her to the bed and held onto her, easing her back against the cover so slowly that she felt suspended in mid air for hours.

He kissed the valley between her breasts, her neck, then palmed her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She cried out, arching her back and he stopped, moving his hand away. "No," she whispered. "Don’t stop. It didn’t hurt."

Smiling, he kept his hand at her side and lowered his mouth over the dusky peak. He traced it with his tongue, flicking, circling and when her hands tangled in his hair he gave the other the same attention, then moved to her ribcage. Lower and lower he traveled, pausing to let his tongue drop into her belly button. Her legs were still around him and he wiggled through them, letting them rest on his shoulders. Rubbing his palms over her thighs, he pushed them further apart and tasted the sweetness between her legs.

"Oh, god," she moaned, grinding against his face. She was insatiable, she thought. There was no way he could extinguish the fire he had started within her, but oh, she needed him to try.

His hand moved over her breasts again and she caught it, sucking two of his fingers into her mouth. It was his turn to moan and he looked up, watching her tongue trace his skin. When she let go, he slid those same fingers into her, pumping slowly, curling to touch the spot she liked the best. His tongue found her clit again and he rolled it as he said her name.

Her orgasm hit hard and her heels dug into his back, holding him flush against her. Her fingers hurt from digging into the cover and she didn’t care, she couldn’t think, it was only a blip in the radar. She rode the waves even after he pulled his fingers from her and got to his feet. Dimly, she was aware that she heard him undressing and she needed to open her eyes and watch him, but all she could think about was the *feel* of her body.

Alex kissed her thigh and was relieved when she didn’t jump. Naked, he joined her, lying on his side as he watched her fight to catch her breath. He would never get tired of seeing her like this, he thought. Never. When she reached for him, he went willingly, slipping between her thighs again. His own need was rapacious and tormenting, but he didn’t try to enter her until she reached between them and stroked him, pulling him toward her center.

As he sank into her, she gasped and her eyes locked on his. Fully seated, he kissed her, one hand in her hair. When he did move, it was slow, deep ... powerful. His own eyes filled with tears when her chin trembled and he shook his head. "Please, Callie, don’t cry. You know it kills me."

"I love you," she said, her hips coming up to meet him.

"I love you, too. So much."

She wiped the tear from his cheek the moment it fell. "Harder. Please?"

He nodded and pulled back, slamming against her. She cried out and this time he didn’t fear that it was from pain. Her passion was unmistakable, lustful and wanton. Her fingernails dug into his back, her legs wrapped around him even tighter, and she said his name over and over again, each utterance huskier than the last. She had come before, just from him being inside her, but when she did it this time, he had kiss her to muffle her cries. And his own.

Her walls clamped around him and he gripped her hip, increasing his pace. It was frenzied and even after his own release found him, he kept moving, kept sliding against her grasping flesh, unable to get enough. For hours, they touched, they felt, they made up. His touch erased the memory of his cruel words and her smile obliterated everything else.

They fell asleep just before dawn, limbs entangled, her face against his neck.

Sated.

Complete.

*~*~*~*~*

"Don’t you think we’re courting disaster by openly reading this when the author is just down the hall?" Addison asked, yawning and blinking in the morning light.

Mark took the diary from her and shook his head. "We’ve come this far. At least now the suspense isn’t just on the page. She could come in any minute. Ooooh."

"We’re supposed to read some of the letters first."

"Let’s do those last." Sitting up, he stretched and fluffed his pillow. "Dear Diary, I think that the baby inside me is fully grown. Almost overnight my stomach has bulged and grown so much that it gives me a backache. I can see by the date of my last entry that I haven’t written in over three months and I’m truly not intentionally neglecting you. I just have nothing of substance to say. Raphael is still gone and with him ... my will to think at all.

"Mother, when she speaks to me, tells me that I am at least seven months pregnant. This is usually followed up with a hurtful insult and an attempt to strike me in my face. Her aim is significantly altered by inebriation more often than not so I easily duck her. Her breath is foul and Papa’s office reeks of wine and cigarettes. It’s something he’d be ashamed of and I told her as much. She threw her glass at me and hasn’t emerged in over a week. Willa says that she is alive, though. But only just.

"Raphael’s letters are still arriving every week. I’ve stopped reading them, stopped opening them. His promises ring false and I fear I’ve become one of those girls that the nuns warned against. A loose, amoral girl who, while married, has no real husband to speak of. I fear that our child, may be just my child at this point, and will grow up and not know that man who stole my heart. I want this baby to have a father and I do not doubt that Raphael would be the kind of Papa a child could be proud of and never, ever fear. He’s so kind, so gentle and sure. And he has destroyed me.

"I don’t go to the orchard anymore and the oranges I used to enjoy only remind me of him. Demi says that the baby is a succubus that is sucking my beauty away, but I don’t care. I don’t need to be beautiful. I need to be loved and I can’t be loved until Raphael comes back. Demi and Xeno, they love me, but it’s a necessary love because we share secrets and lies. Raphael ... he loved me despite those secrets and lies. Or maybe because of them.

"The baby kicks all the time now. I think he can sense that I’m upset and he lashes out to remind me that despair is a self imposed prison and he’s already locked inside me. I can’t wait to have him here, to hold him, smell him, touch him. I pray that he looks like his father. I want nothing of the Karakas line to stain his features. I need my husband. I need him."

"I hate how miserable she is," Addison sighed, taking the book. "Dear Diary, a letter arrived from Raphael last Friday ... delivered by the sender. Yes, my appeared in the kitchen while I was ‘nesting’ as Willa calls it and he held it out to me like I should be pleased to have it, to see him. He called me what I’m sure was a vile name as well. He’s only lucky that the frying pan I reached for did not have hot oil in it and it was smaller than all the others. I lifted it over my head and flew at him. His eyes looked like dinner plates when he dropped the letter and ran. He actually ran from me and I don’t think I would have thrashed him quite so badly if he hadn’t done that. And if he hadn’t tripped.

"My girth alone makes me clumsy, but he rolled down the steps and covered his head and I hit him several times. He kept screeching my name, wailing from the pain, and Willa eventually wrestled the pan from my hands and stuffed it behind her back. He rolled onto his back and grabbed my wrists when I tried to hit him and I saw that he was crying. I fear I made him feel the same way Papa made me feel so many times. I struck the man who once took a beating *for* me. So, naturally I had to kiss him until we were both so weak and breathless that it was hard to stand when Demi pulled us to our feet.

"Raphael accepted my apologies and I accepted his. Until Saturday, when Athena Niarchos showed him her garter and he actually LOOKED. Oh, my blood threatened to boil out of my body and apparently pregnancy makes me a gladiator because I found a piece of driftwood and beat her about the head until she looked as splintered as a porcupine. She left running and I was tempted to take off after her, but Raphael decided to lecture me on the importance of taking care of myself for the baby’s sake.

"You can bet that I clawed his face. How dare he lecture me, I demanded. Who does he think has been taking care of me? He certainly hasn’t. Who does he think drinks horrible warm milk because the doctor said I must and who eats those tragic oats because of the vitamins? That would be me. He’s done nothing except stay away and look at garters. I tried to go for the driftwood again, but he threw it into the water and shouted at me to stop being crazy.

"I had to walk away because the urge to murder him was so great. When he found me in the orchard, he told me that he only had one more day with me and he would rather we make it count. He said I’d have a lifetime to punish him for his career and for his loyalty to his country, but he begged me to bear with him. He swore to me that he would take me with him soon. I believed him. He dropped onto his knees and he felt our baby kick for the first time.

"I was right. He’s going to be a wonderful father. He talked to the baby as if it was already in his arms. We made love underneath the canopy of lemon trees in a way that we’ve never done before. We had to use our imagination to compensate for my belly, which he seems to enjoy kissing.

"Seeing him leave on Sunday night was harder than I thought it would be, but easier, too. Because now I know he’ll be back. One day. He swears he’ll be here in time for the baby’s birth, but there is a trial he must testify at in the coming weeks so I do not have much hope. I fear that I’ve fallen in love with a man like my own father, but only in that his career comes first. I smiled and waved at my husband as the helicopter took him away. I kept waving until it disappeared into the clouds and then I collapsed on the ground.

"Demi and Xeno pulled me to my feet and helped me to bed. I can still smell Raphael on my pillow. I hope it will linger long enough to lull me to sleep." Addison closed the diary and wiped her eyes. "It’s way too early in the morning for emotional roller coasters."

Mark’s phone rang and he sat up, grabbing it. "Saved by the bell. Hello?"

"Hey," Derek said. "How’s Greece?"

"It’s about time you return my seven messages," Mark snapped.

"It was eight, Stalker, but who’s counting?" Derek chuckled. "I take it Callie and her family made it there safely?"

"They’re here. How are you?"

"I’m fine. Sore. Still not back at work. I’m doing a little bit of physical therapy."

"Put it on speaker!" Addison hissed.

Mark complied and laid the phone between them. "Addison’s here."

"Hey, hero! Callie says you saved her life," she said.

Derek exhaled on the other end. "Did I? She wasn’t in a good place before she left here. I kept expecting a call to say she had tried to kill herself or something."

"She’s much better," Addy assured him. "Are you?"

"I will be. Burke’s back at Seattle Grace and he’s been helping me with some therapy. There’s no nerve damage or anything, but it’s a little weak."

Addison and Mark looked at each other. Mark scratched the side of his head. "It’ll be fine, man. It will."

"I know. Hey, you better not bring me home a shirt that says ‘my ex-wife married my best friend and went to Greece and this was all I got’, by the way. We’re tacky enough without it."

Addison laughed. "Damn it, did Callie tell you about that?"

Derek joined her, chuckling. "I’m a great guesser. Richard said that you guys had extended your trip indefinitely."

"We’re trying to help Callie right now. She needs us."

"I thought you said she was fine, Addison."

"She’s *better*. Better is not fine," Mark put in.

A pager sounded on Derek’s end. "That’s Meredith’s beeper. She’s in the shower. I better go."

"Call us again!" Addison demanded. "Since you can’t be bothered to answer the phone."

"Go! Be honeymooners!"

"Bye."

Mark looked at Addison and shook his head when he closed the phone. "He’s definitely *not* okay."

"No," she agreed. "He’s not. But Burke’s there, right? That’s good."

"Yeah." Mark laid the phone at his side. "We’ll call Cristina later. She’ll tell us everything that Derek didn’t."

"Knock knock!" Melana called, wiggling the door knob.

"Shit!" Mark stuffed the diary under his pillow while Addison shoved the letters under hers. "Come in."

Carrying a tray, Melana said, "Apparently I’m room service. You missed breakfast just like Callie and Alex did. Why don’t you kids eat fast because I’ve decided that the ladies in this house should go to Crete and do some shopping today and the *men* can do whatever they like."

"Shopping?" Addison’s grin was huge. "Count me in."

"You get that from me, honey," Melana kissed her on the cheek. "Now I need to go convince the *other* girl that she needs to come along."

"Good luck with that," Addy called, biting into a slice of toast. "She’s *not* a shopper."

"Or a morning person," replied Mark. Both women glared at him and he hastily added, "According to Alex."

"Maybe we should have Mark come along as the designated bag carrier." Melana crossed her arms over her ample chest.

"No way. He’d whine the whole time and I’d go to jail for murder."

"You get that from me, too." Melana winked at her. "We’ll leave in an hour. Assuming Calliope can be roused in that amount of time."

Mark watched the woman leave and shook his head. "You really are starting to act like her."

"Scared?"

He nodded.

"Good."

*~*~*~*~*
Ch 10
Special thanks to tv_junkie118 <http://tv-junkie118.livejournal.com/>, for kicking my ass tonight.
Callie wore makeup on the shopping trip. After she finally crawled out of bed, she decided that the luggage under her eyes needed to be covered and she felt like herself again when she saw the results. The worst of the bruising had been covered completely and while one eye was still a little red inside, it didn’t look bad. Alex had kissed her for twenty minutes, prompting Melana to physically pull them apart and there was no doubt in Callie’s mind that both Addison and her mother knew the reason her smile was firmly in place. As she flew them to Crete in Demi’s helicopter, Callie caught them both looking at her several times.

Shopping in Hersonissos was enough to give anyone attention deficit disorder. There were kiosks, stores, flea markets, and even peddlers who approached the three women with their jackets open to show them the jewelry inside. That was where Callie found a silver chain with an anchor pendant. What really sold it was the mermaid clinging to the anchor. The mermaid had the entire ocean to vanish in, but still held onto something. And that, she decided, was how she felt with Alex. She wanted to hold on, to be grounded, to have roots. She wanted the safety he provided her with. So, she tucked it into her pocket to give him that night after she paid far too much for it.

By the time noon rolled around, the three women were laden with packages, giggly, and out of sorts. They flopped down at an outdoor cafe and talked about everything. And nothing. Callie enjoyed a fresh Greek salad and rolled her eyes when her mother launched into a discussion about the latest fashions in Paris and what Vera Wang was doing in the new year with leather. Addison seemed as well versed as Melana in all things couture so Callie tuned them both out and concentrated on eating. She let her mind wander over the past few weeks. She never dreamed that agreeing to do the air show would throw her entire life into a tailspin, but it definitely had.

If she had it to do over again ... she would have changed *everything*.

Not wanting to take a swim in the pity pool, she dug into a basket of rolls and dipped it into Mediterranean butter as she listened to Addison talk about Fendi’s new line. It was the most boring thing she’d ever heard in her life, but the rapturous look on Melana’s face kept her silent. She had never been able to talk about such things with her mother. Callie’s idea of high fashion was getting into and out of the mall without losing her temper and finding at least two pairs of jeans that fit, made her ass look good, and were long enough to cover her ankles. In her opinion, runway clothes were as ugly as the stick thin women who modeled them.

She glanced to the left as their waiter approached. He was carrying a fancy little drink with an umbrella and cherry and set it down in front of Callie. "A gift, madam, from the man at the bar. Do you have a message for him?"

Callie leaned back slightly and grimaced when she saw who had sent it. There it was, raw temptation. She lifted the glass and handed it back to the waiter. "Tell him no thank you. I’m flying."

"Are you certain? He says it’s your favorite."

"I’m positive."

"Very well, ma’am."

Callie quickly turned back to her salad. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her mother craning to see who had sent the drink. Callie was tempted to pretend to that she was choking to draw the attention back to her. It took her a moment to realize how badly her hands were shaking. She could still smell the gin that had been in the glass and it made her mouth water. Suddenly thirsty and miserable, she put her fork down and lifted her glass of water, drinking deep. She did get choked and it did cause her mother to stop trying to give herself a neck sprain.

Melana studied Callie closely. Reaching out, she touched her damp brow. "Your grandmother used to get the same look on her face."

"She did?"

"After Papa died, she drank herself into a stupor every night. She’d start to sweat and shake if we kept the alcohol from her. And her eyes were just as haunted as yours are now," replied Mel. "She was drunker than I’ve ever seen the night she killed herself."

"You never told me that!" Callie gasped. "She was an alcoholic?"

"I’m sure she was, mi vida. We didn’t know much about it back then, only that it consumed her. To death. We were quite sheltered at Bounty’s Keep, but knowing what I know now, I have no doubt."

Her heart sinking, Callie looked down at her plate. "It must have destroyed you to know that I tried to kill myself ... with alcohol."

"There are no words to describe it. Losing a parent, even as violently as we lost Nana, is still the natural order of things. No one should lose a child. No one."

"I’m sorry," Callie said softly.

"Apologize to me by staying strong." Melana brushed Callie’s forehead with a napkin. "This too shall pass."

"Calliope, darling, I thought that was you!"

"Fuck," Callie muttered, sitting up straight. A six foot tall, broad shouldered and dimpled piece of her past was approaching and she didn’t know whether to run or hit him. "Hi, Nicky."

The man leaned down and kissed her cheek, smoothing his hands over the curls in his hair. "You look *ravishing*. What brings you to Crete?"

"Shopping." Callie shrugged away from his touch and gestured at Addison. "This is my best friend Addison. Addy, this is Aniketos Niarchos."

Nicky smiled at Addison, shaking her hand, and turned to Melana to do the same. Mel simply arched her brow. With a chuckle, Nicky said, "Still clinging to old grudges I see. Calliope and I put our differences aside several years ago. How long has it been, Cal?"

"Ten years."

"Has it really been that long?" He touched her hair again. "I remember it like it was yesterday."

"Remember what? Precisely?" Melana asked, her hands fisted on the table.

"Calliope and I had drinks at this very spot when she was twenty one. We celebrated until she could barely stand up and then I had to fly Demitri’s helicopter back to our estate because she couldn’t. And she didn’t want anyone to see her in the state she was in." Nicky smiled at the fond memory. "It was -"

"You *flew*? You can’t even *fly* fish," Melana snapped.

He threw his head back and laughed. "It was a mishap, Melana. A simple mishap that got the lure stuck in Cambyses’s face. You’d think I intentionally did it."

"I wouldn’t need to think. I’d know." Melana looked back at Callie, who was shredding her napkin.

Still laughing, Nicky laid his hand on Callie’s shoulder. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, darling? I haven’t forgotten the -"

Melana interrupted. "I can assure you she has a full schedule. She’s on holiday with her *husband* and he’s very fond so he won’t be agreeable to sharing her overmuch. Perhaps you should find another pastime. One that won’t get you killed."

"Husband?" Nicky’s smile faded instantly. "I see."

"Good day then, Aniketos." Giving him a pointed dismissal, Melana waved her hand. "Do give your parents our best."

Looking like he wanted to hit something, Nicky nodded and stalked away without a backward glance. Addison looked at Callie with a stunned expression on her face. "He’s slimy! Please tell me that wasn’t One Night Nicky who had the panty fetish!"

Melana’s eyes had now become slits and when Callie didn’t reply, she leaned toward her. "That was an invitation for you to say yes or no. Did you sleep with the enemy?"

"Oh, look at that bird!" Callie replied, her voice a full octave higher than usual. She pointed at a mess of unpreened feathers that hopped toward them on one leg. Ripping into her roll again, Callie tossed a bit onto the ground and watched the animal gobble it down. "What kind is it, Mom?"

"I’m thinking a loon. Or perhaps a cuckoo," Melana snapped. "You just wait until I tell your father. He’s never hit you before, but I think you’ll find your way across his knee tonight!"

Callie dropped the roll into her lap, emphatically shaking her head. The bird charged, flapping wilding to rise high enough to get over her knees. She was so stunned she couldn’t do anything except push it away, which she did by ramming the bread into its beak. It fell back to the ground with an audible thump, leaving a plume of dander and feathers floating around the table. Undaunted, Callie continued to shake her head, which was now covered in feathers. "You can’t tell him! He’ll kill me!"

"No you, but most assuredly ‘One Night Nicky’ will find his way into a shallow grave." Mel yanked several feathers from her daughter’s hair none too gently. "I can understand Eros, but when you sleep with dogs, you wake up with fleas. And when you sleep with bears, you’re lucky to wake up at all. This bird attacking you is karma for selling your soul to the devil!"

"Does anyone want to clue me in?" Addison asked. "Because ... hello? Sitting right here."

Melana patted the red head on the hand. "My father used to operate a ... business ... with questionable morals. That business was ... powerful. It was so powerful that he eventually feared it and turned his back on it. The Niarchos family ... since the dawn of time ... has happily hated the Karakas family. They stepped in and gladly filled the void that he left. They set out to ruin us, Addison, and very nearly succeeded. And my *daughter* -"

"What kind of business?" Addison asked.

"Sort of like the Greek mafia." Callie rubbed a hand over her face.

"YOU SLEPT WITH THE SOPRANOS!?" Addison cried, then lowered her voice. "People get killed for that!"

"I slept with him one time!"

"You can only die once, too!" Melana angrily said. "A Niarchos will stick a dagger in your heart just as easily as they slip their ... other tools ... between your legs!"

"Wait, wait!" Addison said. "Niarchos. Isn’t Xeno’s wife a Niarchos? Athena Niarchos?"

Melana made a face. "Athena, much as I am loathe to admit it, turned her back on her family and gave us her loyalty when she discovered how vile they were. Xeno married her for protection and not for love."

"But he’s crazy about her now," Addison replied. "I’ve seen it."

"He’s simply crazy. In general." Melana shook her head. "Which appears to run in the family. Calliope, I’m disgusted."

"Mom, it was *once*."

"I don’t want to hear it."

Callie tossed another roll onto the ground and got to her feet. "I’m going to the bathroom. And when I get back, you’re going to have a new topic because this one is off limits!"

Melana watched her go and glanced at Addison. "I’m sorry, honey. There are so many things I want to tell you, but I can’t. As beautiful as this place is ... as Bounty’s Keep is ... there are graveyards in the closets and blood on all our feet."

"You can tell me anything. I’d keep secrets for *you*. It’s other people’s that I have trouble with." She took the older woman’s hand. "Callie was just lonely, Mel. That’s all. It’s not like she’s promiscuous. I mean, twelve partners is really average. I’ve had eleven."

"TWELVE!? AY DIOS MIO!" Hastily digging into her purse, Melana crossed herself and dug out her rosary. "I’ll be right back!"

"Oh, shit," Addy mumbled as Melana headed off to find Callie. Lifting her hand, she asked the waiter for their bill.

Melana didn’t find Callie in the bathroom so she stalked all the way through the kitchen and out the back door. When there was still no sign of her daughter, she checked the bathroom again and swore under her breath. She dreaded the phone call she would have to make to Raphael. Callie had apparently run again. Addison met her in the hallway, her cheeks flushed, and Melana opened her mouth to break the news, but she spotted Callie and put a hand to her heart. Her daughter was bellied up to the bar and was lifting a glass to her lips.

Moving at warp speed, Melana snatched it from Callie before she had time to tip it all the way. She tasted it herself. It was water. With a nod, she gave it back to her. "Go ahead."


Callie was clearly infuriated. "MOM! What the hell!? What do you think I’m gonna do!?"

"I think that you’re -"

"Why do I ever bother!?" Callie growled. "I’m working my ass off to stay sober and all of you just assume that I’m not taking it seriously. You think I’m just gonna do it again! Well, maybe I should! No one has any faith in me anyway!"

"And this is why!" Mel fumed. "Your assurance that you can slip back into that lifestyle is the reason we can’t trust you! You used to say nothing unless you meant it so you’ll have to forgive us if we take you at your word! Don’t make idle threats and don’t expect me to be moved by your annoyance. It’s a small price for you to pay when it comes to OUR peace of mind."

"Speaking of paying ... I paid the ticket," Addison intoned. "Yay! Let’s go see the pottery, guys."

Callie bit her bottom lip, her eyes filling with tears. "Mom, please don’t tell Dad about Nicky."

"I most certainly will," Mel snapped. "Unlike you ... I tell my husband everything and that is why we’ve been married only once and that is to one another. Twelve partners, Calliope? Twelve? How can you walk? How can you close your legs at all? You’ve been thoroughly plowed."

"ADDISON!" Callie shouted.

Addison choked. "Look, there’s that bird again!"

*~*~*~*~

After hiking a short distance through the woods behind Bounty’s Keep, the men stumbled onto the grassy ridge that Raphael had been telling them about. Just as the man had promised, the view was incredible and the grass was plush, soft, and deep beneath their boots. Alex and Mark carefully picked their way to the cliff’s edge and peered down at the ocean floor. It took both of their stomachs and they turned in time to see Barnacle lumbering from a small shack with a small arsenal. "What the hell?" Mark asked.

"Looks like he remembered that you slept with his daughter." Alex punched Mark on the shoulder. "Nice knowing you."


"I remember everything. Alex, what have you been doing with my daughter?" Raph asked, loading a magazine into one of the rifles.

"MARRIED!" Alex crowed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Don’t shoot!"

Raph chuckled. "Have either of you ever shot clay pigeons?"

"Not with assault rifles. Or, you know, at all." Mark scratched the side of his head. "That’s what those are, right?"

"Only to the uneducated masses." Holding out the loaded gun toward Alex, he added, "How about you?"

"I’ve seen it done. In movies. Never really messed with a gun before, though." Alex gingerly took it, holding it like it was contaminated, his finger nowhere near the trigger. "What do you want me to do?"

"Point. Pull. Enjoy." Raphael motioned at Barnacle, who fired the first pigeon into the air.

Alex was so caught up in trying to aim properly that it sailed over the cliff edge while she was still looking for it. "Damn it," he said.

"If you imaging where it’s going before hand, you won’t have to line it up. Precision is mostly an educated guess," Raphael coached, pointing at the sky. "It’ll go slightly left. When you hear it pop, aim up and away."

With a nod, Alex brought the gun to his shoulder and waited. Barnacle pulled and the sound was startling enough that Alex pressed the trigger, sending a bullet straight forward and nowhere near the intended target. Behind him, Mark laughed. "Nice shot, dead eye."

"Let’s see you do it!" Alex held out the rifle.

Mark held his palms out and stared at the gun like it was made of Ebola. "Do I yell pull when I’m ready so I don’t get the shit scared out of me like Zorro here."

"Zorro used a sword, asshat." Alex moved behind him, out of the line of fire.

"If it makes you feel good to yell ... then yell," Raph replied.

"Surprise me," Mark said to Barnacle, who pretended to hit the catapult several times.

When the clay pigeon finally soared, Mark missed it by a mile, shooting a tree limb in the distance instead. It popped, then crashed to the ground with a resounding thud. "Yes! Bad tree! You’re dead!"

"I feel much better," Alex snorted.

"At least I hit *something*!" Mark handed the gun back to Raphael. "Wanna show us what we’re doing wrong?"

With the butt against his hip, Raph rested his finger longways, not on the trigger. "First, don’t let it make you nervous. You control it, not the other way around. Second -"

Barnacle accidentally released another pigeon.

Without looking away from the two men, Raphael lifted the gun and fired, shattering it, sending clay dropping back to the earth. "Second, always know where your target is. Especially if it’s behind you. If your back is turned, you should *listen*. And this should prove that you don’t need to be in my crosshairs to pay for *anything* you do to our girls."

Mark and Alex looked at one another, eyebrows raised. "Scared now." Mark shuddered. "Raph, where did you-"

"Discretion is the better part of valor," Raph replied, holding the gun out to Alex again. "Try again."

They spent two hours shooting and missing almost everything they aimed at. To his credit, Raphael never showed off, but he didn’t miss *anything*. When he brought out the handguns, Alex nailed six of his ten pigeons.

Mark, they decided, was hopeless.

When they had exhausted the supply of targets, they headed back the way they had come. Raphael casually led the way. "For protection, I have a gun on me at all times."

Alex glanced at his father in law, his eyes going to the pockets of his trousers, then his waist. Raph saw him looking and shook his head, lifting his pants leg. His sock guard was a gun holster and it held the shiniest, smallest gun Alex had ever seen. The handle was opal, Callie’s birthstone.

"It was a gift from Calliope a few years ago. She had it specially made for me ... so that I could hide it easily." Raph smiled and plucked a piece of grass from the barrel. "I would encourage the two of you to invest in a weapon as well, but since I’ve seen your ability I feel that I’d be better off making sure that Addison and Callie had their own pieces."

"Addison?" Mark scoffed. "She can only shoot her mouth off."

"We’ll see. Tomorrow." Raph lowered the material back over his gun and smoothed out the wrinkles. "We’re having a picnic tomorrow with the staff. In the orchard. We’ll play football, shoot guns, and torment one another relentlessly. Willa wanted to celebrate the twin’s birthday again since it was so recent. Do either of you fish?"

"Absolutely," Mark nodded. "I go to the wharf, fish my wallet out of my pocket, and buy whatever fish catches my fancy."

"Alex?" Raph laughed.

"A little. According to O’Malley not that well, though."

"Then you take the lead, son, and prove that O’Malley is as stupid as he is ugly." Raphael started walking again. "I fear that my hatred of the water sucked out my will to master the art of fishing, but Melana seems to think it’s something we should do together and I’d hate to tell her it didn’t happen."

"She wants us to fish?" Alex chuckled. "That’s kinda cute."

"She wants us to CATCH fish for the cookout tomorrow." Raph shuddered.

"You really hate the water?" Mark asked. "Why?"

"We all fear something."

"All water or just the water around here?" Mark pressed.

"It’s all the same if you ask me."

One hour later, they were cramped into a small boat like sardines, floating aimlessly between Bounty’s Keep and Talking Rock. Mark had caught the only fish and it was so small that Raphael declared it bait and switched rods with him, saying he’d catch Melana the largest fish in the see with it. The air was cool and the sun was warm and they were all close to dozing as the boat rocked back and forth.

Alex shaded his eyes and gazed at the praying hands on Talking Rock. "What is that place anyway? Callie only calls it evil."

"Does she now?" Raph asked, following Alex’s gaze. "I’d say that’s pretty fair."

"It used to be church," Mark told Alex. "For hundreds of years different clergymen lived there to keep watch on the Karakas family home and pray for them of whatever. Nobility used to travel from all over ... noble places ... to see the island and drink from the spring."


Raphael slowly reeled his line, watching Mark closely. "Who told you that?"

"Xenos."

With a chuckle, Raph rolled his eyes. "Xeno is a historical revisionist. He should have gotten a job reinventing the past for the government."

"Which government?" Mark asked.

"Any of them, son, they all deal in altering facts and falsifying documents." Raphael cast his line again. "It did have a church there, but I highly doubt that *anyone* who resided on the island needed to be genuine in their beliefs. They were not clergymen. They were spies."

"Spies?" Mark echoed.

"They watched Bounty’s Keep, not for biblical reasons, not for safety or salvation, but to report back any activity to certain ... organizations that were interested."

"Like the KGB?" Mark suggested, pretending he had no idea about Raph’s CIA work.

"Worse. Russia’s KGB is minor compared to some."

"Like what?" Mark prodded.

Alex saw Raph’s jaw tighten and said, "Why do you fear the ocean? What happened?"

"I guess you men are family now. You have a right to know," Raph replied, looking back and forth between them. "I fear the ocean because it took my child. Not too far from here, actually."

"Oh ... god ... I’m sorry," Alex said. "You don’t have to talk about -"

"Stavros was four." Raph looked back at Talking Rock. "Melana had taken her sweet time in forgiving me for my business travels and it took a while for her want me near her. I finally earned her trust again, her forgiveness and we began to rebuild what we had lost because of my absence. Her mother was horrible to us, however, and more often than not, we’d sail to Talking Rock for the day so Stavros could play in the surf and not have to hear the drunken ramblings of a mad woman.

"On that day, Mel had packed a special lunch and when I opened the basket, I saw a pair of booties inside. She had knitted them to say ‘Hi’ on one and ‘Papa’ on the other. She told me she was pregnant again and I was so excited. Stavros couldn’t stop touching her belly, talking to it. He couldn’t wait to have a baby and he was so sweet, so gentle. He ... he still is, he’s always been our glue." Raph grinned, the pride over his son evident in his voice. "He fell asleep on the blanket after we ate and it didn’t take long for Mel and I to follow suit. When we woke up, he was gone and she spotted him first. He was floating in the water.

"He wasn’t breathing. I scooped him up and ran straight into the spring with him. When we came back up, he was choking and *laughing* and I was so happy because our son was okay." Raph paused for several seconds, still glaring out at the island. "Mel rushed forward to scoop him out of my arms. She was smiling, crying, and she was so beautiful. And then her smile faded and she dropped to her knees and that’s when I saw the blood on her thighs.

"She lost our baby right there in the sand. She wouldn’t go into the spring for herself because we KNEW at that time that there was always a price to pay. So we paid the ultimate price. One child for another. She couldn’t do it to anyone else. She’s only been back to Talking Rock *once* and that was for Ca- another reason." He took a deep breath. "I think sometimes she wanted to leave this place all along, but she couldn’t. She wanted to be close to where the baby died for a long time, close to her family. No matter how far away we go, this place always calls her back. She doesn’t know how to say no or get it out of her system. I think it haunts her as much as it does me."

"God, Raph, that’s ... I’m sorry doesn’t sound like enough," Mark said.

"It’s okay. I’ve made enough peace with it that I can breathe."

"That’s why Callie hates it here," Alex said.

"Calliope has her own very valid reasons and that’s not my story to tell."

Something big hit the boat, almost tipping it. Whatever it was latched onto the end of Raph’s line, which he had been reeling again and it almost pulled him over the side. With a gasp, he gripped the rod tighter, bracing his feet under the rim. "What the hell!?!"

Alex and Mark both grabbed for him when the shark fin emerged three feet from the edge of the boat. "Let it go!" Mark cried, grabbing for the pole. "Drop it!"

The shark jerked and Alex toppled backwards, crashing into the water. He made a mad dash for the boat and Mark jerked him up so fast that it gave him the wedgie to end all wedgies. Raph cut the line and sat, shaking, watching the shark go under the boat. "Are you okay, Alex?" he asked.

"That is the *second* time I’ve gone into shark infested waters for a Torres!" Alex said, trembling.

Raph handed him a towel. "It came while we were talking about Callie."

"And?"

"Keep her out of the water."

"Not really gonna be a problem. I’m ready to strap both of us in a plane and get the hell out of here," Alex wiped his face. "This place? Creepy as hell."

Mark slumped back into this seat, breathing hard. "I officially need clean pants."

"Let’s go fish the way Mark does," Raphael said, starting the engine. "There’s an assortment at the market."


Alex kept his eyes on Talking Rock as they sailed back toward the grotto. He wanted to burn the place to the ground and when he caught Mark’s eyes, he knew that his friend felt the same way.

*~*~*~

"Are you okay?" Addison asked.

Callie shook her head. "Should I be?"

Melana had marched ahead of them, not looking back as they made their way across the lawn from the helipad. Addison put her arm around Callie as they followed behind her at a much slower pace. "She didn’t mean anything by tasting your drink. I almost did it."

"That’s such a comfort."

"What do you expect, Cal? You’re still thinking about doing it and we all know that. Until you’re not thinking about ... you can’t expect us to ignore that it’s there, either."

"So I’m doomed to a life of you all checking up on me?"

"No, because there *will* come a day that you don’t want to do it anymore and we’re all gonna know that, Callie, and it’s gonna be like old times." Addy hugged her. "Until then ... we’re shoulder checking you."

"I can NOT believe you told her I slept with twelve men!"

"I don’t have a mom! I don’t know what’s off limits!"

"You don’t have to turn her against me! If you want to shock her to death then tell her about *your* past. She’d love to hear about your abortion or -"

"Hey!" Addison stopped walking. "You can be pissed at me if you need to, but that’s below the belt and I’m only filled with so much patience."

Callie took her hand. "I’m sorry. I’m just ... god, my life has started to suck again."

"Well yeah," Addison said, grinning. "You’re about to get a spanking from daddy and sent to bed without dinner."

"My dad would never hit me and they’d probably make me eat *their* dinner before they sent me to bed hungry." Callie sighed. "It’s the way he’ll look at me that’s gonna hurt."

"Oh, stop!" Addison looped their arms, walking again. "You’re an adult. He knows you’re not a virgin."

"Ladies," Mel called from the front steps. "Can you stop moving in two speeds? Slow and stop?"

"Coming," Addy replied, dragging Callie along faster. "You’re getting a whoopin’! You’re getting a whoopin’!"

"Shut up, ding bat!"

They sailed through the door and followed Melana to the blue room, where Cam and Alex were playing Jenga for everyone’s amusement. Alex looked up and saw his wife, toppling the wooden tower when she smiled at him. He got to his feet and hugged her. "Did you have a good time?"

"Not really." Callie gazed at her father over Alex’s shoulder. "Daddy, we ran into Nicky."

"Wonderful! What is that little pit viper doing?"

"You’re daughter, apparently." Melana scowled at Callie. "He begged her to have dinner with him tonight. It would appear that she’s been right into the snake’s den. She knows him very, very well."

Alex stiffened in Callie’s arms and took a step back. For the time being, she was more concerned with the look on *his* face than her father’s. "It was *one* time. Years ago."

"CALLIOPE TORRES!" Cam screamed. "Nicky Niarchos!? Satan’s biggest challenge to the throne!? He nearly killed me twice! He pushed Loukas off the cliffs! And he tried to shave your head! That Nicky Niarchos!? You slept with *him*!?"

"Cambyses, could you please shut up!?" Callie cried.

"We’re gonna go, uhm -" Addison faltered.

"Watch a movie," Blake finished for her. "Mark, would you mind leading the way?"

"I’m going, too," Cam sneered. "This is even worse than George, Callie, and that was just pathetic."

Raphael cleared his throat when Cambyses slammed out of the room. Callie felt like she weighed eight thousand pounds when she turned to look at him. "Daddy, I can-"

"When did this happen? Was it for the ... code?" he cut her off.

Callie’s eyes widened and she looked at her mother. "Yes, but-"

"I see," he replied. "And are you confident that you made the right decision?"

"I got the code, didn’t I?"

"Then perhaps we’ll simply say that the ends justified the means, honey." Raph gave her a sad smile. "It’s okay."

"IT IS NOT OKAY, RAPH! He touched our child! He put his hands on her while she was ... naked ... and if you don’t kill him, I will and -" Melana trailed off and then recoiled as if struck. She looked at her husband, then their daughter. "Code? CODE!? WHAT CODE!? YOU USED HER!?"

"Melana, it was her decision ultimately and she -"

"How old was she!?"

"I was twenty at that time, Mom. For that mission, I was twenty."

"A BABY! *OUR* BABY, RAPH!" Mel shouted, drawing back her purse. She hit her husband twice in the head with it, then spun on Callie, who took a step back. "How did you get involved! ANSWER ME!"

"She was born into it!" Raph leapt to his feet and grabbed her bag before she could strike Callie with it. "I made sure she was safe, mi vida! She had fifty agents within striking range every time!"

"MORE THAN ONCE!?" Mel was so infuriated that she rammed her hands into her hair, grasping at handfuls of it. She paced the length of the room, then stalked back. "All those times she disappeared and you *had* to go find her ... she was not running at all, was she? WAS SHE!?"

"I volunteered, Mom," Callie said.

"YOU DIDN’T KNOW ANY BETTER!" she yelled. "That - Raphael, you put our daughter, our ONLY daughter, in harm’s way! Intentionally!" Stalking forward, she slapped him across the face. "You good for nothing, lying son of a bitch! You told me that you were finished when she was *ten* years old! *TEN*!"

"Baby, listen to me," Raph reached for her, only to be slapped again.

"Don’t talk to me!" Mel screeched. "And don’t call me baby unless you want me to rip your tongue out! You sleep in the black room, Raphael! And tomorrow, you gather your things and you get the hell away from me and *my* children before you get one of them killed! Go home to Miami and when you get *there* you get your shit and leave for good!"

"Mom, don’t!" Callie cried.

"No, Calliope!" Mel looked like a shadow of herself when she turned and glared at her daughter. Tears had forced her makeup to run, streaking her cheeks. "He put you in danger! He did it without my consent and after he swore to me that he’d die to protect our family. I only *thought* he was a better father than mine. He’s worse!"

Raph watched his wife leave the room in the same manner that Cambyses had. She slammed the door hard enough to rattle the walls. Wordlessly, he hugged Callie, who was crying. "It’s okay, Mija."

"No, it’s not!"

The door burst open, crashing back against a table and sending the contents flying. Melana stood framed in it, nostrils flared, hair wild. "Did you force her to sleep with the other eleven men or was that her own doing?"

"MOM!"

Mel smirked and left the room.

Alex had sat down on the sofa after seeing Melana’s outburst. Watching her lash out at Raph had been a little too close to home for him. He saw his own parents in their place. Mel’s words penetrated his painful walk down memory lane however. "Eleven? Plus me?"

"You knew that," Callie said, sniffling.

"You said *nine*."

"It was nine! You knew about the other three! You, Mark, and George." She rubbed her eyes desperately. "Uh - I got attacked by a bird today."

"We got attacked by a shark." Alex got to his feet. "And because I’m slow on the uptake ... did this entire conversation just now mean that you worked for the CIA, Callie? Because that’s what it sounded like and surely you would have told me that before we got married."

"No!" She gestured wildly with her hands. "I was NOT doing anything with the CIA. I would have told you that up front, Alex. I was just working with my dad."

"Who reported to the CIA, so you were there by default," Alex pointed out.

"Wrong!" Callie emphatically shook her head. "Dad was an independent contractor at the time."

"No rules," Raph said, "Anything goes. Or went. That stopped a few years ago. I retired for real."

Alex massaged his temples. "Oh ... Jesus ... I think I’m on Mel’s side. She was *twenty* and ... I need to go sit in the dark and process this ... mess."

"Wait." Callie reached for him, but he skirted around her and left the room much more quietly than anyone else had. She looked at her father and shook her head. "They’re that freaked out thinking I was *twenty*! What happens when they find out I was *eleven* when you started teaching me?"

"Your mother will unleash hell."

Flopping back on the sofa, Callie let her tears fall without shame. "I think it’s safe to call this a clusterfuck."

Raph sat down beside her. "It’s the clusterfuck of all clusterfucks. Don’t tell your mother I used that word, kitten."

"Why are you not pissed about Nicky."

"He’s a dead man."

"Daddy."

"I could never be pissed at you for doing what I asked."

"You didn’t ask me to have sex with him."

"I asked you to do whatever it took." He pulled her against his chest when she sniffled again. "You know I never would have let anything happen to you, right?"

"You know that I’ve had too many close calls to do myself in, don’t you?" She looked up at him. "Because Mom doesn’t trust me. She thought I was drinking in Crete today. She took a page out of Alex’s book and tasted my water."

"Did she?" He kissed her head. "She worries, sweetness. So do I, but I know you. I believe that you have the heart of a lion and the courage of the tin man."

"It’s the other way around, but thank you for that."

"Your brothers will soon find out that I let you help me, but not them."

"We should run now."

"No. No more running." He patted her arm. "You’ve carried quite the load all these years. You let everyone think that you were simply running away and all the time ... it was for me."

"I ran a few times, Dad. I wasn’t always helping you."

He held her closer still. "Those times? You knew I was restless so you did it to keep me on my toes."

She brushed the tears off her face and said, "What are you gonna do about mom?"

"Plead? Cry? Beg?"

"You better start with apologies."

"What are you gonna do about Alex?"

"I only have to cry. He hates that," she replied, smiling up at him. "I’ll tell her that you didn’t want to let me help. I pretty much forced your hand by sneaking into FMC’s headquarters."

"You still won’t tell me how you did it?"

"Discretion is the better part of valor," she said, then jumped when the door opened yet again and Alex walked into the room. She sat up, her heart pounding. "Hey-"

"I just need to know -" he began.

Raphael cut him off. "She’s tired, son. And seeing her mother upset hurts her so unless you’re here to take my place and help her through that ... go away."

"I could never take your place," Alex told him, sitting on Callie’s other side and taking her hand. "I’m fine with my own."

"Okay." Raph got to his feet and kissed the top of Callie’s head. "I’m going to go talk to Melana."

"Good luck with that," Alex said. "She’s throwing your things off the glass balcony."

Swearing, Raphael hurried from the room. Callie and Alex sat in silence for a few moments, then she gasped and dug through her pocket, pulling out the chain she had bought for him in Crete. "This wasn’t supposed to be an apology, but nothing says I’m sorry like presents."

Alex let the pendant land in his palm, smiling. "An anchor."

"*My* anchor. I’m the mermaid, only better looking." She watched him hopefully. "This is the part where you kiss me and say that we’re fine."

"You know what I realized?"

"No." She swallowed, but it did nothing to remove the lump in her throat.

"I realized that anything you did in your past ... made you who you are today so I can’t get pissed about it. Because I love who you are and I’m fine. We’re fine." Cupping her face, he kissed her.

"Are you sure?"

"I’m positive." He kissed her again. "I realized something else, too. You’re not a flier. All this time I’ve been scared to death that I couldn’t compete with that. That I couldn’t hold you tight enough to keep you happy and safe on the ground, but I was wrong. You’re *not* a flier."

"I’m not a flier. Not *really*."

"So, I’ll take whatever you’ve done because it’s what you’re *not* gonna do that makes it worth it." He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling. "You’re not going anywhere."

"I’m not going *anywhere*. Except home. With you."

*~*~*~*~

Dinner was a silent affair. Only the clatter of silverware against the fine china indicated that there were diners at all. Addison and Mark sat on one end of the table and Addison, who got clumsier the more nervous she became, dropped her fork twice, but she didn’t speak, didn’t apologize. Callie glanced at her, feeling incredible sorry for her friend. This was probably *not* the way Addison wanted to spend her honeymoon. In the seat to her left, Alex sat pushing his food around on the plate and she wanted to tell him that he’d love the baked chicken, but she didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to herself.

It was Blake, high on pain medication, who finally spoke. "Cam! Stop smacking!"

"I’m not, but I want to. Smack, that is. A person!" Cambyses glared at Callie. "Hey, Nicky Lover, why didn’t you invite your boyfriend to dinner?"

"Leave her alone," Alex said, poking at his mashed potatoes.

"Your *wife* is loose," Cam fired back.

Callie bounced her yeast roll off her brother’s forehead. Stunned, Cam lifted up a handful of his mashed potatoes and it fly, hitting her in the face with it. Her chicken flew next, followed by his salad and her beans. The fight was on, then. Food, water, napkins ... even the beautifully arranged flowers in the centerpiece had their buds yanked off and tossed. When Cambyses made a move to crawl over the table, Mark grabbed him. Alex had to do the same with Callie.

Melana continued to eat as if a war wasn’t being waged three feet from her and ignored the fact that she had green beans in her hair.

Jonesy, the head chef, returned in the wake of it and gave a comical gasp, rushing forward to refill plates and salvage what he could. Raphael stopped him, "If they get hungry later, they can prepare themselves a sandwich. Take it up, Jonesy."

Callie said nothing as the chef cleared the table with the help of two other cooks. She took Alex’s napkin from his lap and wiped at her face. Cam threw the frigid contents of his water glass into her face in an effort to ‘help’ her. "Ooops," he mocked.

Kicking him hard under the table, Callie hissed, "Jackass!"

"Scarlet woman!"

"Jealous bastard!"

Cam shrieked. "Jealous!? Did you just call me jealous!?"

"Dear Diary," Callie used a voice that was meant to draw blood. "I hope Nicky will come to visit today. He’s so handsome. I don’t know why he doesn’t notice that I’m always hanging around."

Putting a hand over his chest, Cam looked scandalized. "Did you actually read my diary?!"

"Did you actually think I wouldn’t!?" she shot back.

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU TO DEATH!"

"That is enough," Raphael calmly interjected. "We are supposed to be civilized."

"Civilized!?" Mel exclaimed, throwing her fork onto her plate. "So civilized that you prostituted your *only* daughter to the enemy so you could hack his computer! You had our *child* doing your dirty covert work."

"He didn’t tell me to do that, Mom," Callie said. "If that’s all Dad needed then he could have gotten Cam to do it. He would have been glad to."

"YOU WORKED WITH DAD!?" Cam bellowed. "AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME!? DID HE TRAIN YOU!? DID YOU GO TO LANGLEY!? YOU *KNOW* THAT IS ALL I WANTED OUT OF LIFE!"

"No, I didn’t go to Langley! Dad quit the CIA when we were nine, stupid!"

"I am going to bed!" Cam shot to his feet. "I hate everyone!"

"You are not going to bed until you help your sister clean this mess," Raphael replied, tossing his napkin onto his plate. He glanced down the table at Addison and Mark. "I owe the two of you an explanation. All of you, actually. If you’ll accompany me to the salon, I’ll tell you everything ... while these two *children* repair the damage they’ve caused. Alex, Blake, you may as well come along, too."

Everyone except Mel got to their feet. Raphael hung back, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I’d like you to hear it too, mi vida."

"Choose your words wisely, Raphael, because a woman whose child is endangered can snap at the drop of a hat." Mel brushed his hand away and stood, stalking past him.

*~*~*~*~

"Stop talking to me."

"You’re being an infant."

"You lied to me for years."

"Because you’re an infant!"

"Stop talking to me, Callie."

"Please, Cam, this is stupid."

He threw the dishrag into the sink and shook his head. "I always talked to you about my dreams of being an agent. Always. I talked to you and you pretended to sympathize and all along you were living my dream. MINE!"

"I was never an agent! I wasn’t! I helped out sometimes when Dad needed me. I didn’t tell you because of this! Because I knew you’re freak!"

"I have never kept secrets from you!"

"I know that. I’m sorry."

"You’re not sorry!" He looked ready to cry. "Did you ever kill anyone?"

"No. Never," she replied. "Do you really think Dad would let me go there?"

"But -"

"You killed someone, Cam, and it nearly destroyed you. Do you really think you would have wanted that life?"

"That’s not the point, Cal! The point is that our parents came and got me at Langley when I was eighteen years old! Dad *cried* and begged me not to pursue that path and all that time ... you were helping him. Right?"

"I did not get to join the CIA! I wouldn’t have!"

"I’m telling Stav and Louk and then we’ll all be pissed at you together."

"Like I need that!"

"It’s not always about you!"

She started to cry again and whirled on her heel to leave. He caught her and turned her to face him. "I hate being mad at you, Callie."

"Then stop. We’re better than this!" She clutched at his arms, holding on tight. "I only helped him sometimes. That’s all."

"You know," Cam shook his head. "We used to say that we didn’t want our lives to be built on lies like everyone else's. You hated it as much as me and just ... just look at what you’ve done. You and Dad have destroyed our mother! She’s *broken*. This is worse than anything we’ve ever done together."

Alex walked into the kitchen and looked at the siblings. "Cam, Raphael said that he’s about to tell the part that you don’t know, so maybe you’d like to be there."

"It’s nice that someone will tell me. Finally."

Callie sat down at the bar, resting her head on the counter. Alex put his arms around her and held on. It didn’t calm her nearly as much as it should have.

*~*~*~*~*

Raphael stopped talking when Callie and Alex finally joined them. He took one look at Callie and got to his feet, giving her a reassuring hug. "It’s all out in the open."

"Everything," Melana agreed, gesturing at the room. "Things I didn’t know myself until tonight. As you can see, they’re all as shocked as me."

"Not shocked," Mark corrected. "Taken aback."

"Shocked works for me," Blake said. "Are you actually telling us that the CIA wanted Callie and -"

"They did." Callie stepped away from her father and sat down on the couch. She had always wondered how it would feel to expose the truth to her family, but she didn’t feel relieved. She simply felt apprehensive. "I called Dad and told him that I had been contacted so he formally named his agency FMC and told them it was a conflict of interest because I was already invested in his organization."

"FMC?" Mel asked, eyebrow raised. "What does that mean?"

"For My Children," Raph replied. "No matter what you might think, they’re the reason for everything I’ve done."

Melana got to her feet and paced to the window, pushing the curtain aside to peer out. "So what exactly were you using our daughter for? You’ve skimmed over that part."

"You’re looking at it. Talking Rock. More than anything else ever has ... that place gets under my skin." Raphael shivered involuntarily. Only his children picked up on it. Everyone else was looking at Melana, who had spun so quickly that she ripped the curtain down.

"YOU TOOK HER TO THAT PLACE AFTER WHAT HAPPENED TO HER!?"

"I wanted to go!" Callie assured her. "I needed to go. I couldn’t let it ... fear cripples a person and I didn’t want to be crippled by it."

"How old were you when he dragged you there?" There was no longer fire in Melana’s voice. She sounded old, worn out. "And don’t lie to me."

Raphael didn’t let Callie answer. "Eleven. We started to investigate the island when she was eleven, Melana."

"Dad," Callie exhaled. "I was going to at least say sixteen!"

"It’s time for the truth!" Melana shouted. "Calliope, so help me God, if you tell me anything less than that I will make sure it’s the last thing you ever do!"

"What happened on that island, Callie?" Alex demanded, more to take Melana’s mind off the age bombshell than any desire to hear it. His brain already felt close to exploding.

It was Cambyses who spoke. "We were eight. We came every summer to see our grandmother, not because she liked having us here because she didn’t, she was cruel, but because Mom was loyal. Nana was pretty crazy, really. She was always sneaking around scaring Callie and me. She’d tell us stories about Talking Rock, horrible, freaky stories that kept me up for months after we’d go back home. That year, Callie took her to the mat, calling her on her inconsistencies and she said, ‘If you don’t believe me, go there’."

Callie picked up the tale. "So, that’s what we did. When everyone went to bed that night, we took a boat and went across the water. I wasn’t scared. I couldn’t wait to prove that old bat wrong. I started to lose my nerve just a little as we got closer, though. There was a storm in the distance. It hadn’t come ashore yet either, but we could hear the thunder and it was loud enough to feel it inside. And the lightning looked like the finger of God touching the water on the horizon."

Not remembering that he was pissed at his sister, Cambyses sat down beside her on the sofa and put an arm around her. "There was no fog when he were approaching, but the second we tied the boat off and walked down the dock and stepped onto the sand ... it was like it rolled out to welcome us. It was so thick, so cold, and wet. We couldn’t see an inch in front of us and I couldn’t hear anything anymore. I didn’t hear the thunder or the water licking the shore. I thought I was deaf."

"I could hear just fine." Callie took a deep breath. "I heard Cam crying and I turned around to touch him, to tell him we’d leave, but he wasn’t there. I saw something to my left and I could have sworn it was him so I started running that way, calling his name. I eventually made it to the flower garden and whatever that shadow was ... I saw it again, further up ahead. I had on pants and by the time I got through the rose bushes and the underbrush, they were ripped to shreds. I felt like I was bleeding all over. My legs were sticky from it."

"Meanwhile," Cam said, "I was sitting in the boat screaming for her. I didn’t know where she was and then the fog was ... vacuumed back into the trees and I ran onto the beach. I saw her footprints and headed into the woods. That’s when I heard her screaming and saw the fire."

"Right after I broke out of the flower garden, there was a dirt circle. It felt weird under my shoes, lumpier than sand and wet. I saw a stone slab in the middle and thought that I could climb up on it and see Cam better. So, I did." Callie trailed off for a second and Cam took her hand. "As soon as my bloody legs touched that thing ... a bolt of lightning hit the ground right in front of me. It was strong enough to blow my hair straight up in the air ... and the dirt ... it blazed so high all around me that I couldn’t see over it even though I was on the altar."

Melana cleared her throat. "I was on the glass balcony and I saw the fog pull back. I saw the lightning and the glow from the fire and I just *knew*. I was arguing with my mother at the time and I ran past her to check the twin’s bedroom. It was empty. By then we could hear Cambyses screaming for help and God, it was loud enough to wake the dead."

"It woke me up," Raphael said with a nod. "By the time we got there, you could smell her hair burning, but she was alive. The fire had burned the rubber on her shoes and her hands looked like wax, but she was breathing, and begging for me to come and get her."

"I couldn’t move." Callie shook her head. "It wasn’t fear that paralyzed me, either. I physically couldn’t move."

"I couldn’t go into the circle." Raphael turned and looked at the fire in the grate, then moved away from it as if the flames were too much of a reminder. "Melana could. She stormed into it and grabbed Callie, but -"

"I couldn’t move either." Melana moved back to her seat, wrapping her arms around herself. "It felt like something was holding me there, gripping me, rooting me to one spot. All I could see were the burns on her face and all I could think was ... I’d rather die with her than watch her go alone."

"Xeno rushed to the circle’s edge and threw water from the spring inside. The fire was gone in an instant," Raph said. "And I could go in. They were both so burned that there was no way they would have lived. No way. I picked Melana up and Xeno grabbed Callie and we ran as hard as we could to the spring."

"I remember how good it felt." Callie looked down at her hands. "There was no pain. It felt like a cool bath and when I came up ... there wasn’t a scratch on me. Or Mom."

"Wrong," Cam corrected. "She was emotionally *fucked*. I’ve never seen anyone that messed up. She was screaming and screaming that Callie was dead and it took forever to get her to see that Callie was fine."

"She carried me back to the boat," Callie smiled at her mother. "Even though I was very, very tall for my age. And she made me sit in her lap for the ride. Cam was not looking at Bounty’s Keep so he didn’t have to see it."

"See what?" Mark asked.

"My mother jumped to her death right in front of our boat." Melana rubbed a hand over her face. "She wrote ‘I caused this’ in blood on the balcony and she jumped."

"I heard it. It was enough." Cam’s eyes filled with tears. "She didn’t make a sound until the very end and then she ... regretted it ... I think. Jumping, I mean."

"The spring had saved *two* lives that night and claimed one right then. The following day, Xeno’s only son, went to the rocks where Nana had died to leave wreath and he slipped on water and hit his head. He died instantly." Melana brushed a tear off her cheek. "That’s when we fully understood that all debts are paid and nothing is free. And things that seem too good to be true, usually are."

Mark looked at Callie. "Someone must have set that fire. Someone must have tried to -"

"Do you want to see for yourself?" Callie asked.

"YOU ARE NOT GOING THERE!"


"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!?"

Addison, Cambyses, and Alex all spoke at once.

Callie turned to her father. "Want to share our video tapes? Maybe it’ll help some people, *MOM*, see what we were trying to do."

Raphael nodded. "Nothing like a horror movie before bed."

*~*~*~*~*
CH 11
*~*~*~*~*

"Welcome to the headquarters of FMC." Raphael turned a hook on the wall to the left and stepped back as the paneling slid to one side. Melana gasped behind him and he glanced at her, "You didn’t know it was here? This is where your father tried to plan Armageddon. I think you’ll find that my motivation was a little more commendable."

Everyone crowded into a small entryway. The walls were stone and Callie stepped forward, pressing her palm against a flat, nondescript rock. It blazed red and a deep robotic voice said, "Greetings, Calliope."

"Greetings, Zeus. Command entry."

Red beams shot out, passing over the people in the room. The robot spoke again, "Zeus detects multiple lifeforms. Friend or foe, Calliope?"

"Everyone is a friend until they prove otherwise," she replied.

"Welcome, friends," Zeus greeted. "Entry granted."

The rocks on the wall plumed with dust as a crack appeared. The crack deepened until a tunnel materialized and Callie flipped a switch, lighting the path. One by one, everyone followed, even Blake who refused to use his crutches at all and relied on Cam for support as he hopped along last. The view that greeted everyone caused resounding gasps and muffled cries.

They were directly underneath Bounty’s Keep, inside the cliffs that the house had been built on. Someone had poured concrete to make the path easier, but the walls were jagged and untouched by restoration. What was breathtaking, however, was the computer system and wall of televisions. FMC had state of the art gadgets, gizmos, and even an airplane that looked like it belonged in a Jetson’s cartoon, but what caught everyone’s attention was the fact that Talking Rock was under surveillance from every angle and being broadcast live from every screen.

Callie took a seat at the largest computer terminal and began to type. "Daddy, did you ever condense the narrative footage?"

"It’s still almost two hours long and that was with four edits." Raphael looked at Melana, then at the others. "We documented everything. Every trip, every lead, every *thing*. If you’ll have a seat ... I think you’ll understand what we were trying to do."

There were two leather sectionals in the middle of the floor and the men made quick work of dismantling them and turning them toward the wall of televisions. Melana looked like sitting down for an *instant* was conceding defeat, but when Raphael gave her a pleading look, she complied and sat down on the end of the sofa next to Addison in a huff. Raphael could barely contain the relief he felt. He covered it up by saying, "I started FMC after Callie and Cambyses were almost killed on their Uncle Kakistos’s yacht. Cam, you don’t know this, but your horrible sailing skills actually saved your life. There was a bomb on board that was meant to send a message to me.

"In the wreckage, the CIA found a fire proof box with my name carved on the side. Inside it was a warning to stay away from Talking Rock. Someone out there knew that I had alerted a special division of the CIA to the spring’s healing abilities and they wanted me to stop. So, I did. I officially resigned and I made sure that word got out to anyone who may have wanted to issue that warning to me. I lived my life as a businessman and nothing more for a full year. Then we came back to Greece and Callie, who snoops more than a human possibly should, found this place. She was rock climbing from the grotto up into the cliffs and she discovered it. The rest, they say, is history." Raphael looked at Callie expectantly.

She happily picked up the story. "I was eleven years old and I didn’t know what I had found, but I knew it was pretty cool. So, I kept coming back and then one day I booted up the computer. Someone had left the passwords out in the open so I put them all in and activated my voice and the doorway opened over there, the way we just came in."

"And I was on the other side trying to figure out how to gain access," Raphael laughed. "She scared the hell out of me."

"You scared the hell out of me," Callie replied. "I thought I was in trouble. But, instead, we were in it together."

"You never showed me this place," Cam snapped. "That sucks."

"Can you stop being a baby?" Callie hit a few buttons on the computer and a projection screen lowered, covering the televisions, which she shut off with another keystroke. "We started documenting everything from the beginning. Dad called friends from the CIA who had also retired or just had an interest in the paranormal and they launched a full scale investigation into the island’s history. Dad still had clearance because he didn’t *completely* resign and he was able to call in favors and do it right."

"Wait ... there are government agencies who just investigate the paranormal?" Mark asked.

"Since before Roswell, but that was really the catalyst for their studies." Raph nodded. "Area 51 exists and there are specimens of non-human origins that were taken from the wreckage. I’ve seen them. I’ve looked at them under a microscope. The people behind Area 51 also investigate unexplained occurrences."

"Like?" Addison asked.

Raphael took a deep breath. "Like the Bermuda Triangle, Big Foot, the Yeti, crop circles, stigmatas, and -"

Mark scoffed, looking at Alex for support. "Dude, seriously. Are we actually sitting here doing this?"

"I can guarantee you that by the time we get to the end of this ... documentary ... you’ll believe that everything you ever *thought* could be real ... is." Raphael nodded at Callie. "Go ahead, honey."

"Does anyone want popcorn?" Callie offered. "We have tons."

"Just start the damn freak show, Calliope," Melana growled. "Now."

Raphael sat down as far away from Mel as possible. Callie dimmed the lights and joined Alex, taking his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "It’s not that bad, Jock Strap, so -"

"Shush!" Melana chided. "We’ll judge for ourselves what defines ‘bad’."

The screen was pitch black for a moment and then Raphael appeared, gazing into the camera from a few inches away.



"Is this thing on?"

"Dad! No one wants to see your nose hairs! Will you sit down?" Callie called.

Raphael backed up and flopped down beside her, still looking at the camera as if he were unsure it was working. Callie, whose jet black hair hung to her waist, crossed her arms over her chest. Her black lipstick and dark eyeliner made her look sullen and ... scary ... but she was clearly amused when Raphael glanced her way, then did a double take. "Calliope, *this* is how you choose to appear for our ... narration?"

"If anyone is seeing this we’re probably dead." Callie stretched her legs out, looking at the camera. "If I am dead ... then *shit*. That sucks. If I’m not, then, Mom, don’t kill me."

"You are *eighteen* years old, Mija! Grow out of this ... demented phase. You look ... unruly."

"When I graduate high school, I will. It’s my defense mechanism."

"Defense against what?"

"Peers. The most evil monster known to man. Can we do this? I want to go watch paint dry."

Raph shook his head and looked back at the camera. "We’ll probably have to cut most of this because I can just tell you’re going to be hard to deal with today."

"Yep." Callie nudged him with her shoulder. "Wanna hear a joke?"

"WE ARE WORKING!"

"A guy walks into a bar -"

The film jerked and sputtered and then Raph was alone. "Year one. Roll it."

A panoramic shot of Talking Rock filled the screen. It could have been the opening scene of a million blockbuster hits, picturesque, soothing. Callie, at eleven years old, bounded across the sand doing cartwheels. In the sunlight, her hair was chestnut brown with lighter brown highlights from the sun and her curls flew wildly as she flipped again and again. In the distance, Raphael was examining the altar and the camera man zoomed on him, watching as he kicked at the rocky base to expose any tricks or gimmicks.

A man wearing a flame suit appeared and patted Callie on the head. She was no longer flipping and stood gazing at the man with interest. He walked into the circle and spoke with Raphael, who hurried to stand next to Callie just outside the dirt circumference. Pulling a hypodermic needle from his pocket, the man squirted the altar with the blood from the syringe and ... nothing happened.

The next shot was of Callie. A helicopter was obviously hovering nearby because her hair was whipping and Raphael frantically motioned for it to retreat. The view changed and she accepted the helmet that Raph held out to her. "You don’t have to do this, baby."

Callie took the helmet, gazing down at it in her hands. "Yeah huh."

"Why?"

"Because it wants me to."

"What does?"

"It’ll fire for me and you want it to fire so you can see it on the camera, right?"

"Right. Are you scared?" he asked.

Callie nodded and a fat tear coursed down her freckled cheek. "A little."

Raphael kneeled down in front of her. "Nothing is ever to be feared, kitten. It’s supposed to be *understood*. Fear makes a person weak, it makes a person ... doubt themselves ... and there isn’t anything in this world you can’t do if you want to do it."

"Can I fly?" she asked hopefully, her eyes darting into the distance. "Because Jonesy said I could fly the helicopter if you said okay."

"All you have to do is believe it ... and you can do it."

Grinning, Callie pulled the helmet on, saluted her dad, and skipped to the altar. The needle filled with blood was used again, this time she emptied the contents ... and ... nothing happened. She was standing on the smooth surface and she shrugged. The needle caught her attention and she nodded. Wordlessly, she tugged off the glove and drove the needle into her palm several times ... then she pressed it to the stone and just like that ... the fire was everywhere.

The focus was just on Callie as she tugged her glove back in place. The helicopter could be heard approaching and she looked up, waving happily at whoever was on board. Raph let the fire burn for a full minute before he threw water into the blaze and rushed in, gathering her in his arms. The fire died as rapidly as it had begun and Callie pulled her helmet off before he set her on her feet. "Did you see me!?"

"I sure did," he told her. "You did such a great job!"

"I’m not weak at all." She grinned up at him. "Am I?"

"Not even a little."

"My hearts beating all funny. And my belly ... what’s this feeling, Daddy? It’s like ... running but I’m not moving."

"It’s adrenaline."

Callie held her arms out as the helicopter’s wind lifted her hair. Turning her face upward, she said, "I’m flying without wings. Can I do it again?"

"Boss, you need to take a look at the feed from the helicopter." A man said, holding out a small handheld device.

The film jumped to the view from the helicopter.

The circle was burning and Callie was waving ... from the center of a pentagram. The five pointed star inside the circle was unmistakable and ... just as terrifying.

The splicing on the film was horrific and after the pentagram faded to black, an eighteen year old Callie, still wearing her black, fiddled with her leather dog collar and gazed at the camera. "I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking Devil Worship. *Wrong*. Satanic panic isn’t cute, people. What you just saw was the temple of Thesmorphia which was *supposed* to be a nice, loving ritual that Greek people did. Well, maybe it was the island or the *people*, but they perverted that nice, loving ritual and made it dark. A pentagram actually represents five things: earth, water, air, fire, and spirit. I felt the need to make this public service announcement because I happen to appreciate the distinction. Carry on. Oh, year two, by the way."

Callie’s hair was shorter when she appeared on camera again. She grinned devilishly and made a trilling sound with her tongue. "Captain’s log, stardate, -"

"Stop doing that!" Raphael told her, shooting her a menacing glare. It faded fast, however, and he tugged her into his arms. "You’re a lot of company for this."

"I hate stakeouts." Callie sat up a little higher, peering at something. "Bet I could drop fireworks and make something happen."

"Can you concentrate?"

"On nothing?"

"GET DOWN!" A man screamed.

Raphael covered Callie with his body, pushing her face into the dirt. A moment later, there was a loud explosion and the camera was knocked to one side. It took a while for it to be righted and when it finally was, it was Callie who lifted it, brushed it off, and put it back on the stand. "Fuck," she whispered. "My ears are still ringing. Dad, did they use too much C4?"

"Yes." Raphael grabbed her, patting her sides, her legs. "Are you hurt?"

"Nope, but I am hungry. The next time we’re blowing something up ... we’re packing a lunch."

"I got it!" someone called off camera. "It’s here! It was right by the doorway."

Raphael accepted a big, rectangular box and tucked it under his arm. "Thank you, Jasper."

"Anytime, boss."

"Aren’t you gonna open it?" Callie asked. "I mean, it took us *four* weeks to find the damn thing."

"You’re twelve. The next time you swear, I’m spanking you."

She grinned at him. "Fucking fuckers fucked up my fucking pants."

"You have been hanging around with Sims too much."

"Pretty much."

With a fade to blue, Raphael appeared on the screen in the same sterile looking room from the beginning of the film. He had his hands clasped in his lap. "You’re probably wondering what was in the box. That footage is ... unavailable. I won’t share that because some things are sacred and believe me ... that was. What I can tell you is that so much was explained by the contents. After that mission, everything was clear. It took me two years to do the research and come to terms with everything. So, we’ll jump ahead to year four."

"Dad!" Callie called. "I’m ready. How do I look? Am I a convincing Goth?"

"Dear God." Raphael walked around her, taking in her appearance. "Tell me that the black in your hair is temporary."

"Do I look like a Doom Cookie? No! It’s not fake. I’m authentically authentic."

"You’re *fourteen*! Your mother will have a fit when she finds out you colored your hair."

"It’s *raining*. If I used a rinse then the color would run and no one would believe that I am really into this scene." Callie pulled out a mirror and checked her black lipstick. "I actually like this. Having one color to choose from really makes getting ready easier."

"Do *not* get any ideas. As soon as you pump these people for information, you’re getting that out of your hair and you’re wearing *pink*. I mean it."

"Pink? I don’t even like pink cotton candy." She accepted the ear piece he gave her, slipped it into place and pinned a large, Victorian looking cross to the long black robe she wore. "So, I just press the center of the cross if anything goes wrong?"

"That’s all. Honey, you’ll have two other agents inside and if *anything* happens, they’ll react whether you press it or not. Don’t do anything that could get you hurt and you document *everything*. This is a fact gathering assignment only. Stick to the plan, get names, photos of the place and stay where the camera is on you at all times." Raphael hugged her. "Are you scared?"

"Fear makes you weak. I don’t fear a *thing*."

The room that appeared next was painted blood red and there was a table full of goblets. The camera picked Callie up at the table, sampling the wine. Raphael’s voice cut through and he said, "Put that down right now!"

"I have to look the part!" Callie whispered. "Don’t worry, it’s gross."

She carried the glass, not lifting it again back through the party goers. Several women stopped to talk to her and she came up with a convincing story about running a paranormal website and attending the ‘gathering’ in the hopes of photographic evidence that Thesmorphic Thinkers had channeled into untapped energy. When the ritual began a while later, she was calm, cool, collected and blended perfectly with the other women in attendance. She also took photo after photo, but no one seemed to notice that it was mostly the contents of the room and the layout that drew her attention.

To her credit, she didn’t bat an eyelash when a baby pig was slaughtered and when the cup of pig’s blood was passed around the room ... she drank it and kissed the woman next to her as she passed the cup on. What happened next was undeniable.

As the pig was hung upside down to drain onto corn seed ... a woman to Callie’s left levitated into the air. Her head fell back and her body thrashed and convulsed and then a voice that was soft and melodic spilled from her. "Your offering has been received. Go forth and prosper. All that you touch will be golden."

When the woman fell back to the ground, Callie grabbed her before she could hurt herself. "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine," the woman replied, her voice almost masculine now. "What happened?"

The film jumped again and Callie was emerging from a hallway. She smiled and made small talk with a short blond before she hugged her and waved at the congregation. They all called their goodbyes to her and she smiled as she exited the building. Outside, she strolled to a small black car, started the engine, and then pulled away. The camera person followed, hopping into a van.

"This is the *last* time I’m dressing as a woman," Demi said, putting the camera on the instrument panel.

Raphael smiled at him, pressed several buttons on the computer he worked at, then said, "Jonesy, follow Calliope. And if she goes over fifty miles per hour let me know."

"Yes, sir."


~*~*~*~*~*

"Pause it," Alex said, touching Callie on the arm.

She did as he requested. "What is it?"

"Demi and Jonesy, the chef, are involved in this stuff?" Alex asked.

"They were."

"How did you not feel the wires causing that woman to float?" Mark interjected. "Because it was obvious they were there."

"Just keep watching, Einstein," Callie replied, pressing play again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Callie was standing outside the car she had left the party in, her arms folded over her chest. After her father yelled at her for speeding, she reached under her shirt and pulled out a roll of paper. "Hey, is this an important scroll."

Raphael took it. "How did you -"

"They still haven’t invented a safe I can’t crack." She reached under her shirt again and pulled out a long, slim tube. "The Essence. What kind of idiots capture someone’s soul and then lock that shit up in a safe with a freakin’ scroll?!"

"Give me that! What part of ‘do not deviate’ confuses you?" Snatching it, Raph handed it off to Jonesy, who carried it back to the van like it was a stick of dynamite. "What have I told you, Callie? Never handle anything unless you know what it is?"

"I know what it is. I heard you talking about it to Jonesy. You wanted it and now you have it." She grinned at him. "Can I drive us back to the hotel?"

Raphael hugged her. "Fine, but I’m not very happy with you at the moment."

"Liar."

*~

"Just do it, Dad."

The Essence was beneath a square glass barrier and Raphael was manipulating it with mechanical arms. "You should wait outside."

"I *got* the thing. I wanna see what it can do."

"It’s evil."

"Good. It would be boring if it was sweet and innocent."

"If *anything* happens -"

"I know. Mom will kill us both. Now open it."

Raphael manipulated a key into the lock on the tube and slowly turned it. His hands were shaking as he worked the robotic arms. Finally, it clicked open and he pulled the lid off, holding his breath. Callie leaned closer and peered inside. A moment later, something hit the glass so hard that a crack appeared a few inches from her face. The cube fogged immediately and her eyes widened as she looked at the camera. "Come around here, Demi."

Demi complied and gasped. "Raph?"

The words on the inside of the glass were undeniable. They read, ‘Leave me alone’.

Callie reached up and touched the surface. On the other side ... a bloody handprint appeared, following her every move. "That is *so* weird," she said.

The glass was hit again and this time ... a face was imprinted in the blood, perfectly outlined. As they watched ... the mouth opened and the invisible tongue snaked out, licking and undulating ... smearing the blood. Callie moved her hand away and added, "Weird and *fucked* up."

Raphael was watching Callie with interest. "You’re not scared?"

"Why would I be? It’s in there, I’m out here." She leaned closer to the protective shield. "Can it see us? Because it’s blinking now."

"If we can see it, it can see us," Demi placed his palm on the opposite side of the cube. The face vanished and splattered over his hand. The grimace on the entity’s face spoke volumes about whether or not it was pleased.

Callie shook her head. "I don’t think it likes you."

At the sound of her voice, the face reappeared on her side of the box and her eyes widened. "It can hear us, too? Maybe we should play twenty questions. I’ll go first. What -"

"Don’t, Callie! The shamans who blessed this barrier never told me if they binded it. To engage the soul is to give it a link to remain here. We must contain it again," Raphael said, returning to his seat. He moved the robotic arms to the far end of the tube, shaking his head. "There’s so much blood ... I can’t see it."

Callie slipped her hands into the gloves on her side of the table. They were made into the glass case so that the contents could be manipulated by hand or by robot. "I’ve got it."

"Calliope, no!" Demi said, reaching for her.

It was too late. She slid her hands inside and felt blindly for the tube. The face vanished as she was working and she gasped, then cried out. Raphael jumped to his feet and he reached for her, but she shook her head. "Give me a second."

It took three minutes. As suddenly as it had appeared, the fog cleared, but the blood remained. Callie turned one glove upward, wiping the glass clean as she screwed the lid back on the tube. The red light on top of the glass went from red, to yellow, to green and she nodded. "Threat contained. And ouch, that hurt."

She pulled her arms free and Demi zoomed in. The bite marks were unmistakable. Her skin had not been broken, but the indentations were deep and obviously painful. Raphael launched into another speech about respecting boundaries, but Callie tuned him out and gazed in at the tube. "Dad?"

"Don’t interrupt me when I’m mid-tirade!"

"How do you *capture* a soul?"

"By giving up your own, Mija."

"Giving it to who?"

"Baby, there are some things in this world that I never want you to know."

"If you don’t want me to fear the unknown ... you should make sure I know it all."

Raphael looked torn. "Fine. Sit over here. Away from this thing."

Callie complied and watched her father pace the length of the room. "In a chapel in Southern France, the great Emperor Charlemagne is buried. He’s placed prominently in the middle of the room, but the way his body is arranged is ... odd, even for that era. He’s sitting up, with a bible in his hand, and he’s pointing at a verse on the wall. Matthew sixteen twenty six."

"For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" Callie said automatically, looking thoughtful. "What does Charlemagne have to do with what we’re doing?"

"Because he’s the only person to ever sell his soul ... and get it back." Raphael nodded when she looked skeptical. "Legends say that he was mortally wounded in battle. As he lay bleeding out ... a man approached him and offered him a life filled with success. Charlemagne knew he was dying so he agreed and the deal was struck. As the stranger helped him to his feet, he said ‘You will rule an empire and when that day comes, your soul will be mine’.

"Eventually, Charlemagne was named Emperor. He didn’t want that to happen. He feared that happening and didn’t see it coming. But he found a loophole, Callie. He refused ever to use the title ‘Holy Roman Emperor and because of that ... some sects didn’t recognize him fully and for *that* ... he retained his soul, but he points to that verse on the wall in death to remind everyone how close he came to losing his own."

"Who was the man? Who found Charlemagne when he was dying?"

"There is more evil in the world than just Satan, but a person can sell their soul to the Devil. It comes in many forms and offers you what you need at that precise moment."

"So, you’re saying that Lucifer is real."

"He’s the bad guy in one of the oldest stories ever told. If he’s not real ... then neither is the rest. And I refuse to believe that we’re in this alone. I believe in God so by default ... I have to believe in Satan, too."

"Is that whose essence that was?"

"No." Raphael shook his head. "If it was that easy to capture the Devil ... God would have put an end to him a long time ago."

"Then who was it?"

"I can’t be certain, but there were rumors that it belonged to Liam French."

Callie gasped. "The serial killer? The one who targeted Pagans?"

"I think the Thesmorphic Thinkers were very offended by his choice of victims. They were there the night he was executed and rumor has it they were chanting, calling his soul as he passed away." Raphael lifted her hand in his and studied the bite marks on her wrist. "He was a biter. That’s how they convicted him."

"Great. I’ve been snacked on by the ghost of a serial killer and all I got to show for it is bruises. Not even a coffee cup. Or a T-Shirt."

"Have you heard anything I’ve said?"

"I heard it. I just refuse to let it freak me out." She looked back at the tube. "Whose blood was that?"

"The blood of his last victim. It stains the soul ... when you do wrong."

The sterile room from the beginning of the film came back into view and Raphael slumped into his chair. "After I showed several friends in the CIA the footage of the essence ... FMC gained approximately one hundred and fifty new agents. Because of that, I was able to step back and breathe for a while. Callie, naturally, kept our secrets and didn’t work with me again until she was sixteen. It would be an assignment that would change both of our lives. Year six. Roll it."

"I’d rather be here than back home. Mom was trying so hard to have that stupid coming out party." Callie made a face. "She actually said ‘let’s go get your hair highlighted’. Highlighted, Dad! Like the world needs another blond bimbo! There’s an abundance already."

Raphael patted her on the back. "She means well, you mother. And she adores you. Try for a little compassion. You’re our only daughter and -"

"I don’t ‘come out’! Ever." Callie smiled. "That’s Cam’s job."

"Your mother needed this party after being informed that he’s homosexual."

"How come you don’t mind?"

"Because I’ve seen it all. Nothing bothers me at this point. I want your brother to be comfortable in his own skin."

"So, Cam can be gay, but I can’t be Goth?"

Raphael shook his head. "You’re a beautiful girl and looking like you do distracts from that. You hide behind a mask and drown yourself in horrific music that I don’t think *anyone* could enjoy and for what?"

"I like it."

"We’re ready to roll," Demi said, poking his head into the van.

Callie picked up the camera, sticking her tongue out at it. She handed it off to Demi and followed her father. Stonehenge sat in the distance, impressive and intimidating against the night sky. Callie took a deep breath and sat on the ground in the center, opening a bag. Using a knife, she sliced at the air as she chanted softly under her breath and then she lay flat on her back, her arms outstretched. The clock in the corner of the screen fast forwarded close to an hour.

"We should pack it up. It’s not happening," Demi said.

"Wait," Raph hissed. "Did you hear that?"

A woman’s voice could be heard as plain as day. She was speaking rapidly and as the camera zoomed on Callie, it was obvious that she was not the cause. A moment later, Callie rose into the air, her hair cascading behind her, the ends skimming the earth. As they watched, her head began to rise and she hung suspended as if crucified for several seconds before she slumped back to the earth.


Raphael rushed toward her, shaking her. "Callie!? Wake up!"

"Dad?"

"Play it back!" Raph shouted at Demi. "What was it saying?"

The screen went black and words appeared at the bottom to translate the computer enhanced recorder. "You will be safe. Go and do what must be done. You will be safe. Go and find the Rose of Jericho."

An eighteen year old Callie appeared on the screen looking bored. "Just for the record, I don’t remember any of that and it didn’t look very pleasant so I’m not too bugged by it. The Rose of Jericho. Here’s where it gets interesting. Over the course of researching Talking Rock and her power center, we stumbled onto a branch of the Karakas family tree that we didn’t know existed.

"The Bible talks about Nicodemus. His faith in Jesus was unwavering. He had witnessed some of Jesus’s abilities firsthand and it was to Nicodemus that Jesus said, ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believeth in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.’ When Jesus was crucified, Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for Jesus’s body so that they could prepare it for burial. They rubbed spices on him.

"But that’s not all. A Rose of Jericho is also known as a resurrection flower. They placed one inside the tomb. And three days later, Jesus came back. What the bible doesn’t tell you is that Nicodemus went back inside that tomb to retrieve the rose and it was gone. Jesus ascended into Heaven after that." Callie popped her gum and scratched the side of her head. "Here’s where it gets tricky so pay attention. The Rose of Jericho, when used to restore life, must be destroyed afterward. It can’t be left whole because for life to be given ... the rose has to die. It has to be ripped apart and scattered. Nicodemus never found that rose so Jesus couldn’t remain on the earth.

"So, who took it? We’ve searched for that answer for years and if we *are* still alive, I bet we’re *still* looking. Was it Joseph of Arimathea? Was it Mary Magdelene or Jesus’s own mother? Those were the people who knew that the rose had been used. Those three ... and Nicodemus."

Holding up a journal, she cleared her throat and said, "Me and Cambyses were snooping a few days ago and we found this diary in the wall. In the *wall*." She flipped open to the marked page and said, "It was written by my great, great, great grandfather. ‘Today we had a merchant ship come through. I was not at all pleased with the motley assortment of beggars and vagrants on board so I told them I would provide a feast for them only if the set sail post haste. Naturally, they refused and insisted that their vessel was in need of repairs. When I spotted the women and children on board, I caved. I sent them to Talking Rock to make their camp.

"When my servant, Amon, took them their food and returned, he told me that the peasants had sent with them a gift of gratitude. Instead of delivering it to me, Amon told me that he could not touch it. It had a weed of some kind inside a glass container. No matter how I tried, I could not break the glass or open the lid. I cannot explain this baffling phenomena nor can I explain the sense of dread and panic that overwhelmed me each time I struck at the container. I will not attempt to shatter it again. Amon, who grew up in Egypt and now works at Bounty’s Keep, called it a rose, but I’ve never seen a rose such as this. Amon says that the flower is cursed.

"I wonder ... how does it stay green and healthy when there is no air? It does not looked cursed to me. It looks blessed." Callie looked back at the camera. "So, you’re probably at the same conclusion we’re at. The rose clearly came ashore at Bounty’s Keep. There’s no more mention of it in this journal and over one hundred agents have overturned every single inch of the house, the property and even parts of Talking Rock. We have to be careful what we do on the island because she has a way of anticipating that we’re a step closer to learning her secrets and she ... she’s vindictive.

"She *thinks*. And she *knows* what we’re doing before we do it. Three months ago, a tunnel that we were digging collapsed on the workers and killed all thirteen. Three more died trying to retrieve the bodies. We can’t dig up the entire place because not only would my Uncle Xeno have a stroke, he’d probably chain himself to a tree or something to stop us. He’s in love with that place. So, we proceed with caution for *him* more than ourselves.

"And that’s why we’re making this video. Because we are close and things are happening and it’s ... well, a normal person would be scared ... but we’re not. We’ve seen and done too much to fear what happens next. So, again, if you’re watching this ... we could be dead, but I hope we’re not. If we are, though, we didn’t want to carry these secrets with us. There are too many secrets already and there are too many lies, too."

Raphael appeared, sitting next to Callie in the next frame. "So, there you have it. That’s what we know so far. There are hundreds of hours of footage that we couldn’t show you because it’s not really pertinent to this story, but believe me when I tell you that there is more than just life and death. There’s an in between where things can’t be explained or rationalized, but they can be understood and *respected* and that’s all we were trying to do."

Callie glanced at him. "Are we done yet?"

"We have miles to go before we sleep."

"Why quote Robert Frost when Einstein said it best?" Callie asked. "‘The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mystical. It is the source of all true art and science’. Fuck sleeping. I want to keep running into the fire, Dad."

And the screen went blank.


*~*~*~*~*~

Presently, Callie got to her feet and turned the lights back on, sitting at the computer. She hit a button to lift the screen and then turned the televisions back on. Out of habit, she scanned all of them for signs of movement or life, then looked at everyone. "So, that’s it."

"That’s it?" Cambyses ran a hand over his face. "Why does it end there?"

"Because it ended there." Raphael got to his feet and walked in front of the televisions himself, pausing at several of the images. "When the CIA found out that we had lost sixteen of their best ... they threatened to destroy me and the family. That’s when they decided that they wanted Callie and my option was to dismantle FMC and send her to college or keep going."

"Wrong," Melana snapped. "If you stopped when she was eighteen then *why* did she sleep with Nicky to gain a pass code at twenty?"

"Because Uncle Demi had a party and Nicky showed up," Callie replied. "He started talking about things that he shouldn’t have been versed in. He talked about a *rose*. Uncle Demi overheard him and called us. I got him drunk, gave him a truth serum, and found out that there were things in the family databank that could benefit us. So, I did what I had to do to get that code and we found out that the Niarchos family had done a little genealogy of their own. They were descended from Pontius Pilate ... you know, the guy that presided over Jesus’s trial and personally handed him over for crucifixion."

"We know that the Rose of Jericho plays a part in the mythos of Talking Rock." Raphael was still looking at the monitors. "But with Calliope so busy with college and then her internship ... we let it go."

"We let it go because we had to," Callie corrected. "Dealing with ghosts or spirits or ... whatever ... that’s fine. But I don’t think either one of us wanted to risk it anymore. I mean ... this is creepy in *Biblical* proportions and I don’t really want to tempt the hand of God. More than I already have, I mean."

"Plus, losing sixteen of our co-workers was *devastating*," Raphael declared. "I believe that the closer we get to finding the truth ... the harder it ... whatever it is ... will work to cover it up."

"Wait, wait," Mark said, holding up a hand. "I’m still on the bloody face thing in the box. What the hell was that?"

"The soul of a very, very evil man."

"The soul?" Mark still looked skeptical.

"You don’t believe us. Even now." Callie stated it as fact. Getting to her feet, she quickly opened the padlock on a nearby cabinet and took out the same tube from the video. Holding it out to Mark, she said, "Take it."

Sloan looked at the tube as if she were offering him a rattle snake. "Wh - what?"

"We can’t open it because someone would get hurt, but you can still *feel* it. So, take it."

Mark gingerly lifted the tube the same way he had taken the gun from Raphael when they shot clay pigeons. As he held it in his hands ... it thumped Then it thumped again. He gasped and almost dropped it. "Holy shit."

Alex shook his head when Mark held it out toward him. "No way. I’m not touching that thing."

"Addison?" Mark asked.

"Hell no."

Callie took it back from Mark when no one else would touch it. She placed it back in the case and spun the lock. When she turned back to the others, Melana had gotten to her feet and was stalking toward her. Callie took a step back, but Mel didn’t hit her ... she hugged her and whispered, "I am very sorry that your father is an asshole."

"Mom-"

In a louder voice, Mel said, "Raphael, unless you want to meet Jesus and ask him about this rose yourself ... I’d suggest you stay very, very far away from me. The rest of you ... go to bed. We have to be presentable tomorrow for this picnic and despite the fact that we are all now scarred for life ... we will put on a brave face and pretend that we don’t know ... a damn thing. Are we clear?"

Everyone nodded and she sailed out of the room.


Raphael smiled at Callie. "You’re mother can make a dramatic exit better than anyone alive."

"You’re supposed to go after her," Callie advised. "So, why don’t you do that?"

"I’ll wait until she’s asleep."

"She’s locking your ass out of the bedroom."

Raphael picked up a small black case from the counter. "You’re not the only locksmith in this family, Mija."

*~*~*~

Forty minutes later, the entire group, minus Raph and Melana, sat in the kitchen eating sandwiches. The foodfight had caused dinner to be cut short and Addison, who was a stress eater anyway, had taken it upon herself to ‘cook’. No one spoke for a while and finally, Mark swallowed a potato chip and looked at Callie. "I’m pretty sure my childhood house was haunted. There was this one room that was always twenty degrees colder than the rest of the house and I hated going near it. I hated it because I always felt like someone was watching me. Even the maid stayed away. I mentioned it once at a football game in the locker room and the guys ... they made fun of me for months. Our school mascot put a sheet over his costume and ran up and down the field like a ghost."

Callie sipped her cola. "So, you stopped believing that it could be possible."

"Pretty much." Mark bit into another chip. "To this day, though, when I go home ... I won’t get near that room and as far as I know ... no one else does either."

Tearing a piece off of her sandwich, Callie glanced at Alex, but didn’t eat it. He had not said much since the video and the tightness of his jaw concerned her. "People are pretty much born with a sixth sense. We can usually tell when something isn’t right."

Alex must have felt her looking at him because he gave her a reassuring smile and pushed her plate closer to her. "Now that it’s all bite sized ... why don’t you actually eat it?"

She rested her chin on her palm when Melana shouted at Raphael for the millionth time. Her eyes found Cam’s and she knew that the apprehension there reflected her own. Their parents *never* fought. They would snap at each other and Melana would overreact more often than not ... but it had never gotten so bad. When a door slammed, then slammed again, Callie sighed. "This sucks."

"She’ll come around," Mark said, patting her arm affectionately. "She will."

Alex shook his head. "She just found out that she’s been living a lie. I’d say she’s far from ‘coming around’. I mean, he lied to her. And, Callie, regardless of how you try to spin it ... it was wrong of him to put you in danger."

"I was never in danger," Callie replied softly. "It was completely safe. Everything was controlled."

"So, those bruises on your arms from that thing biting you ... that was safe? That was controlled?"

"*I* caused that, Alex. I did something stupid and paid for it." Callie flinched when Raphael bellowed in Spanish. "He never put me in any danger."

"We saw the video," Addison said. "He most certainly did."

"He did, Cal." Cambyses agreed, nodding his head.

"Cambyses, you’re just pissed because you weren’t included," Callie retorted. "You guys didn’t see even one *quarter* of our footage. He protected me nonstop."

"It’s the fact that you were that at *all*," Alex snapped. "You shouldn’t have been. You were a *kid* and he knew better. I can’t be pissed at you for it ... but I can be pissed as hell at *him*. I have zero respect for what he did with you."

"I actually agree with that," Blake chimed in. "You didn’t deserve to be pulled into that world."

"I asked for it!" Callie shot back.

"When I was eleven, I asked for Mary Poppins to come and be my babysitter," Blake replied. "Because I thought she was a real person."

"I don’t regret it." With a shake of her head, Callie pushed her barstool back and got to her feet. "You can judge us. You can even be skeptical or *angry* that you just now heard the story, but don’t blame him for something that we didn’t cause. This thing has been unfolding for centuries and we got closer to the truth than anyone else ever has. My mother knew what she was getting into when she married my father."

"No, she didn’t," Addison said. "She didn’t find out the truth about who he was until they got married. The *day* they got married, as a matter of fact. So, she didn’t know what she was getting into until she was standing waist deep in it. I mean, she had to watch her own father die because of -"

"Addison." Mark warned, telling her to shut up with his eyes.

Callie didn’t miss a moment of the exchange. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at her brother. "Apparently I’m not the only one who reads diaries."

Addison clapped a hand over her mouth when Cambyses gasped. Mark closed his eyes, counted to five, and said, "We’re sorry. It was just there and -"

"Just there?" Cam asked. "Hidden behind an oil painting isn’t really just *there*."

"We didn’t mean to," Mark swore, putting a hand on Addison’s leg. "It’s ... once we started reading we couldn’t put it down."

"It’s pretty gripping, huh?" Callie smiled at him. "We found it when we were about twelve. Mom doesn’t know, of course, that we know she got knocked up with Stavros before she got married."

Cam chuckled. "But it does give us a little tingle every time she starts preaching morals and abstinence. It’s just ... pleasing to know that the incomparable Melana Torres makes the same mistakes as the rest of us."

The incomparable Melana Torres walked into the kitchen looking like hell on wheels. Dressed in her robe and slippers, she saw the small crowd and made eye contact with each one, glaring into them with enough fire that everyone shifted uncomfortably. "What are you doing out of bed?" she snapped angrily.

"Uh, Mom, we’re not ten years old and having a sleepover," Cam replied innocently, blowing her a kiss. "Are you hungry?"


"Go to bed," she snapped. "I won’t tell you people again."

Mark and Addison didn’t have to be told for the third time. They both got to their feet, lifting their plates from the table. Melana shook her head and took them instead. "I need to clean something. Or break something."

Cambyses and Blake said nothing as she took their plates and shoved them in the sink. They followed behind Mark and Addison, mumbling their goodnights as they left the kitchen. Only Callie and Alex hung back. Melana grabbed Alex’s plate and looked at the mess Callie had made of her food. "Is that yours, mi vida?"

Ignoring the question, Callie asked one of her own. "Where’s dad?"

"I locked him in the bathroom," Mel replied, filling the sink with dishwater. "And so help me God, if you let him out I’ll break your arm."

"You need to break something. I’d rather you break me than my father."

Melana turned the faucet off, narrowing her eyes at Callie. "You better leave this room while you still can, Calliope, because I am mad as hell and there is nothing -"

"He hated lying to you. He didn’t think I knew it, but I heard him crying a lot of the time that we were gone. So -"

"If he was crying ... it was because he knew that I’d catch his ass one day and he was terrified of what I’d do to him."

"Your bark is worse than your bite," Callie told her. "You’re overreacting. As usual."

The plate that had been Callie’s hit the wall a few inches from her head and Melana reached for another. Alex jumped up and grabbed it before Mel could throw it. She held up her hands to indicate that she had surrendered and Alex looked at Callie. "Are you okay?"

"I’m *fine*," Callie snapped, her eyes on Melana.

"If you want to stay that way then GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!" Melana yelled. "NOW!"

"Gladly!"

Alex watched his wife stalk from the kitchen and hurried across the room, picking up the pieces of the shattered plate. Melana joined him and he took her hand when he saw tears on her face. "I’m sorry, Melana. I can only imagine how you’re feeling right now."

"The same as you, I’d wager. I’m incredibly ashamed that you have married into this ... lunacy."

"I knew Callie was a lunatic when I said ‘I do’." He grinned. "Granted, I never realized that she was ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’, but hey, it’s just one more piece of her to love."

Melana cupped his cheek, smiling at him. "You do love her, son. Anyone can see that."

"And you do love Raph. Anyone can see that." Alex put his hand on top of hers. "What no one should see ... is their parents hitting each other, Mel. I don’t mean any disrespect, but you slapped him right in front of Callie and ... I’ve been there so I know that she felt it more than he did. And she doesn’t need to see *any* violence after what that man did to her. She doesn’t need to hear the two of you screaming at each other or doors being slammed because it scares her. And she’s been fearless for so long that she doesn’t know how to handle that."

"Oh, Alex, I didn’t even think."

"You’re thinking now." He got to his feet and helped her up. "What Raphael did was screwed up. A lot of things could have gone wrong, but I have no doubt that Raphael is the only other man who loves Callie as much as I do ... so I have to believe that he would have died to keep her safe. And I think he’d die before he hurt you ... because he looks at you the same way I look at her."

"Does my daughter realize that she’s married a man who possesses a crystal clear voice of reason?"

"Who do think made me find that voice?"

Together, they cleaned the kitchen. Alex walked her back to her room and smiled when he saw Raphael sitting on the foot of the bed. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and watched her walk inside, shutting the door softly behind her.

In his own room, he found Callie sitting the same way as her father. She got to her feet and started to say something, but he wrapped his arms around her, kissed her cheek, and told her he loved her. In the grand scheme of things ... that was all that mattered, he decided.

*~*~*~*~*~

Derek awoke with a start. Sweat beaded over his brow and the cover was a tangle around his limbs. Hot, he shoved it off and sat up on the side of the bed. A moment later, he felt Meredith’s hand on his shoulder and said, "I’m sorry for waking you up."

"It’s okay," she replied, kissing his back. "Are you in pain?"

"No."

"Then what’s wrong?"

"It’s the same dream every night." He watched the streetlight cast shadows on the wall as he gathered his thoughts. "The same damn dream. I’m back at work and I crack into a patient’s head and my hand won’t work."

Meredith reached around him and squeezed the hand in question. "It’s been working fine, Derek. Your therapist says that you’ll be operating again in no time."

"But - what if I -"

"I get the fear thing. I do. We make a living with our hands and yours are the best on the west coast, but you’re doing so well and -"

He got up and paced to the window, his back to her. "In my dream ... it’s Callie that I’m operating on and ... her brain is exposed and I say ‘I need someone to take over’ and she opens her eyes and says ‘What? You can’t save me again?’ and then ... she’s dead ... and that man who attacked her is laughing in the corner and everyone’s dead at his feet. Everyone. Mark, Addison ... you."

Meredith joined him at the window, her arms around his waist. "I happen to have it on very good authority that the man who stabbed you is still very dead and very buried."

"Earlier today ... I thought I saw him. I was coming out of my therapy session and you know how you feel someone watching you? I was walking across the breezeway to go give Richard an update and I just happened to look down and ... he was standing in the lobby just ... staring up at me. And he *smiled*, Meredith. He *smiled* and tilted his head and -"

"You’ve been on some pretty strong medications."

"I know." He nodded. "That’s what I thought, too."

"Come back to bed."

"Do you remember when you were almost blown up? You told me that you woke up that day feeling like something bad was going to happen. I feel that same way." Derek started to turn and look at her, but something caught his eye directly under the streetlamp. With a start, he eased the curtain back slightly and whispered, "Oh my god."

"What is it?"

"Tell me you see him."


Meredith gazed down from the second story and gasped. Standing under the streetlight was a man in a dark coat and ... he appeared to be looking right at them. "I’ll call 911."

Derek watched her rush for the phone and when he turned back to the window ... the man was gone.

But the window was fogged and was beading moisture on the inside despite how comfortable the temperature was. He reached up and touched it ... and a moment later there was a thump and a splattering of blood appeared on the outside of the glass.

"What was that?!" Meredith cried, the phone to her ear.

"It - it must have been a bird of some kind. I think it hit the window."

"The police are coming."

Derek, who had been burning up just moments before, shivered as a chill raced through him. Still gazing out the window, he said, "I never thought I’d say this ... but I feel like I’ve just seen a ghost."

Handing him his robe, Meredith nodded, "Right there with you."

The police arrived quickly and scanned the area. They also checked the yard for the bird that hit the window, but found nothing. Derek got the water hose out and squirted as much of the blood as possible from the glass, but gave up when he realized he’d need a pressure washer. The officers tipped their hats a while later and promised to increase security in the area. Derek made sure the door was locked and joined Meredith in the living room, where she offered him a cup of coffee. Grateful, he sipped it, then smiled when he saw what the new addition on the coffee table.

"A bible?" he asked.

"It was Izzie’s. She forgot it. I saw it while I was making our coffee and decided to leave it out."

"To ward off the bad mojo?"

"It’s really heavy. I could do some cranial damage with it if I needed to."

"Let’s hope you don’t."

They didn’t get any sleep that night.

Sitting on the sofa, they watched the minutes tick into hours. And the hours seemed to drag toward dawn.

*~*~*~*~*~
CH12
The sounds from the carnival were loud. Callie could hear the laughter from the clowns, the chatter from the crowd, and the tearful cries from a little girl as she demanded to ride the Ferris wheel again. Smiling, she looked to the left, where a man with a loud speaker was making announcements while he twirled his blue top hat. The fun house, as it always had, called to her and she followed the crying girl into the line. No one needed tickets to enter and it didn’t seem odd or out of place. The little girl turned to look at Callie, causing her to gasp.

It was like looking in a mirror.

She was Callie at eight, wearing the same outfit she had worn on Talking Rock the night she had burned. The Rainbow Brite pajama top had been a favorite of hers. She clutched Raphael’s hand with both of hers.

"Hey," Callie called. "Wait!"

"Go back," the smaller version of herself said. "It’s not safe here. Go home. Today. Take them all."

"What -"


"Callllllie?" Her name was growled, a husky, terrifying sound. "Callllllllie, come into my parlor said the spider to the fly. Come a little closer and I will make you die."

The adult Callie stopped walking. A few feet in front of her, the little Callie stopped as well. Melana and Raphael, who looked years younger, crumpled to the floor suddenly and their blood splattered everything in the vicinity. The little girl held up her hands and said, "GO BACK! RUN!"

But Callie didn’t run backwards. She ran forward. Her parents vanished as suddenly as they had appeared and she raced head long into a hall of mirrors. She could still see her shadow self, the child she had been, following her like a miniature ghost. "What’s happening?" Callie demanded of the child.

When there was no answer, Callie turned to address her and screamed. Randall McFry stood a few feet away, cleaning his knife. Addison and Mark lay crumpled at his feet and as Callie watched, his licked their blood from his fingers and leered at her. Turning, she ran face first into a mirror and cried out from the pain and shock. Putting her hands in front of her, she felt for an opening and took the first one she came to, rushing to the right. Blake was there, clutching a wound on his stomach. He saw her and held his bloody hands out before he fell to the ground.

"Oh my god. Someone help me!" Callie cried, unsure of what to do. "ALEX!"

"Callie!?" Alex replied, sounding close. "Where are you?"

"I’m here! Please! Keep talking."

"Yes, Alex, keep talking," Randall advised. "Fee fi fo fum ... I smell the blood of a man who’s done."

Callie heard Alex’s murder before she stumbled onto it. He died with her name on his lips, yelling for her to run, to get help. She kneeled beside his body and felt for a pulse, cursing the heavens, cursing Randall McFray, screaming for something ... anything. And then Randall was behind her and the knife was at her throat and she could feel how sharp it was, how close she was to dying ... and she decided that it wouldn’t happen. Not today. Not there. She drove her hand into Randall’s crotch, twisting and pinching. His scream of agony only propelled her.

She fought him the way street fighters threw down. She put everything into it. For Alex, for her parents, for Addison and Mark ... and it wasn’t enough. He tore at her clothing and ripped at her underwear ... and her eyes widened when she realized that he was moments away from finishing what he started ... and she was too tired to fight anymore.

"CALLIE, WAKE UP!" Alex shouted, shaking her.

Down the hall, he could hear Blake shouting the same thing at Cambyses, whose own hysteria rivaled his sister’s. Raphael and Mark burst through the door as Callie’s fist shot out. She clipped Alex on the jaw and almost fell out of the bed, but Mark caught her. He earned four perfect scratch marks on his cheek for his efforts and tried shaking her himself to no avail. It was Raphael who slapped her. He walked forward, nudged Mark out of the way, and laid the palm of his hand across the apple of her cheek. Melana appeared in the doorway just in time to see it and kicked her husband in the seat of his pants. Her threat died her throat when she realized that Callie was sobbing hysterically.

Alex moved closer to his wife tentatively, his jaw still aching. "Callie, it’s okay. You’re safe."

"I want to go home," she cried, trembling.

"Okay. We’ll go."

She started to cry harder and reached for him. "Alex-"

"What did you dream?" he asked her, pulling her against him.

She shook her head, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Clinging to him, she breathed him in, felt his pulse beating steadily against her cheek. If anything ever happened to him, she thought, she’d curl up and die beside him. "Don’t let go," she whispered and he tightened his hold in response.

Melana put a hand on her daughter’s face, swiping back the curls on her brow. "We can’t leave today, sweetheart. There was a storm earlier. The driveway is washed out and the tide doesn’t seem to be going down."

Callie squeezed her eyes closed. "I don’t want to be here."

"It’s okay." Alex assured her again. "Everything’s gonna be just fine, baby."

"Is Cam okay?" Mark asked Melana, who was worrying the locket at her throat. "Because he didn’t sound okay."

"He’s fine," Melana replied. "He said he was taking a shower. I believe Addison’s gone downstairs to prepare coffee. Would you mind helping her, Mark?"

"Not at all." Mark left the room quickly, knowing that he had been dismissed.

Melana shut the door to the bedroom and said, "None of us need to go outside today."

"Why?" Alex asked.

Mel took a deep breath. "I was on the glass balcony for a while this morning watching the storm mount. The fire burned on island. I saw it."

Raphael stepped forward, looking stunned. "Someone must have been there. Calliope, did you -"

"It wasn’t me," Callie sniffled and dried her eyes, her voice shaking. "Check it on the film, Dad."

"Right," he nodded and hurried out the door without another word.

Melana leaned down and kissed Callie’s cheek. "No one leaves this house. No one."

Alex took a deep breath. "Does anyone want to enlighten me?"

"I’ve seen it burn twice," Melana replied. "On the night that Callie almost died and my mother did. And ... again a few years ago. Right before the Twin Towers were attacked in New York. I think it burns as a warning that something horrific is going to happen."

"Mom-" Callie began.

Melana cut her off. "I’ll go check on breakfast."

Alex waited until they were alone before he spoke to Callie again. "I can’t handle another damn revelation about this place or what that island can and can’t do. I mean it. I’m done. I’m sick and tired of the secrets and lies and ... all of it."

When she said nothing, his face softened and he kissed her cheek. "I’m sorry. Callie, I just -"

"It’s a lot to take in. I know." She brushed the fresh tears off her face. "But it’s all true. All of it."

"I’m not doubting you." He hugged her again. "What did you dream?"

"I don’t want to talk about it."

"You’ll feel better if you tell me." With a sweet smile, he cupped her cheek. "So, lay it on me."

"Some other time." Shaking her head, Callie got to her feet and walked to the dwindling fire. "It’s so cold."

As she was lifting a fresh log for the fireplace, her father shouted. She dropped it and raced from the room, not caring that she only wore Alex’s T-shirt and boxer shorts. She raced into the room her parents were sharing and skidded to a halt. A snake, the criss cross pattern on its back terrifying, headed right for her. Alex, who had followed her, lifted her off her feet and hurried backwards. The snake made it into the hallway before Melana severed its head with the shovel from the fireplace in the room.

"Daddy!" Callie cried, struggling in Alex’s arms.

Raphael appeared in the doorway, looking stunned. "I’m fine. No one was bitten."

"It’s an adder," Melana said, watching as the snake continued to writhe on the ground. "How did it get in the house?"

"That’s not the question to ask," Raph replied. "How did it get into my bag and zipped back up?"

"Don’t look at me," Melana snapped. "I dislike you a great deal right now, but I can’t make you pay for your sins by killing you prematurely. I intend to make you suffer for *years*."

Alex stared at the snake, pondering how long it would take to sail back to Seattle in one of the tiny motor boats in the grotto.

Anything felt like a better alternative to staying.

*~*~*~*~*~

Raphael and Callie sat in the headquarters of FMC, studying the footage from the previous night. She was grateful for the diversion. The dream had haunted her for the entire day. After breakfast, Melana had suggested that she take a nap, but the thought terrified her. She didn’t want to return to that place or see Randall McFry again. So, despite her exhaustion, she forced herself to concentrate on the cameras that showed the best arrival points and the circle itself at Talking Rock. They fast forwarded the footage after a while and Callie drummed her fingertips on the table in boredom until something caught her eye. "Camera twenty seven."

Raph locked every screen on the wall into view twenty seven and got to his feet, standing in front of the biggest television. "Someone’s there."

Callie zoomed in and joined her father, squinting. "Any idea who it is?"

They watched as the person lay back on the altar and then the fire raged. She exchanged a matching troubled gaze with her father and went back to the computer, scrolling to another camera. No matter how they tried, they could not discern who the intruder was, even though the night cameras were state of the art. "So much for the theory that the altar only fires for me," Callie stated dryly. "I only thought I was special."

"You are, Mija," Raphael flopped down beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Alex is not taking things well, is he?"

"He’s taking it about as well as we can expect. This is new territory for him. I mean, he had never gone to church until he met me so it’s not like he has faith or beliefs. So, this has to be a shock to his system." Callie checked another camera angle and sighed. "Plus, he doesn’t travel well. He’s not into strange places. He’s ready to go home."

"We all are."

"Who put the snake in your bag, Daddy? It was clearly someone here."

Scanning the screens, Raphael handed her a bottle of water and opened one of his own. "I refuse to believe that anyone in this house would have done it. We’re *family*. We’ve always been family."

"Reality check," Callie said. "Who else knew your bag was there? It has to be one of us."

"Or our little island friend." He reached over her and zoomed in on another angle, stopping the feed to try to see the person’s face again. "Your mother put all of my bags in the passage, honey. She told me to go sleep in the grotto, which I clearly didn’t do. Whoever was on that island could have come into the house through the grotto. We need to check the waterside camera."


She did as he requested and gasped. Sure enough, the person who had been on the island sailed toward Bounty’s Keep. Before they entered the boat however, they loaded a small container into the vessel. A container big enough to carry the snake. "Bingo," she mumbled. "Curiouser and curiouser."

The boat disappeared into the grotto and after they fast forwarded, they saw it emerge close to twenty minutes later. "Just enough time," Raph pointed out. "So, we know that we had a visitor during the night."

"A comfortable visitor. Did you see the way he navigated the cliffs with his lights off?"

"I did." Getting to his feet, he paced the length of the room, his hands on his hips. "Let’s do the rundown. What do we know?"

Callie pulled out the dry erase board and drew a number one, circling it. "First, we know that they’re familiar with Bounty’s Keep. And the island. They’re also able to fire it up without anyone else there and ... wait ... they had water with them, Daddy, to stop the fire. I saw them throw it before they -"

"I saw that, too. Your Uncle Xenos did the same thing when you were burning. I told him to. It was the only thing I could think of." He took the marker and wrote, "They understand the island’s mythology."

"And they don’t like you." Callie watched her father write ‘vendetta’ on the board. "Three clues. I’ll take Nicky Niarchos for five hundred. He knows all the passages into Bounty’s Keep."

"It does fit." Raph nodded. "You ran into him the other day and we know based on what we hacked from his computer that he had done extensive research on Jesus, Nicodemus, and the Rose of Jericho."

"Plus, Cambyses told Nicky all about the island’s fire and the water’s power to impress him. He had a major, major crush. So, Nicky’s not clueless and he does hate you."

"Of course he does. When he asked to marry you I told him I was going to kill him for even suggesting it." Raph smiled at her. "So, should we pay him a visit?"

"No. That’s just inviting trouble."

"Have you lost your nerve?" Raphael grinned at her. "Because that would be a shame."

"Yeah, Dad, I lost my nerve." She felt her eyes burn with tears and looked away. A moment later, she felt him kneel down beside her and take her hand. "I dreamed that Randall McFry had killed all of you and that he was - he was .... successful in what he wanted to do to me."

"I thought it must have been something like that. It cuts me to the core to see how much he terrorized you. All that time I wasted teaching you about the evils in the world should have been spent teaching you about the evil of men. Mankind, Callie, is nothing but wretched at times and I should have prepared you better for that. I should have taught you hand to hand combat when you asked me to, but I didn’t think you’d need it because you can’t fight the supernatural that way." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Honey, he’s gone now. He’s dead and he can’t hurt you anymore."

"We both know that sometimes dead doesn’t really mean dead."

"We both know that sometimes it does."

"That dream was so real." Callie shook her head. "I saw me at like ... eight years old ... wearing the same clothing that I wore the night the island flamed. She kept telling me to go back, to go home, that it wasn’t safe here."

"Now *that* is curiouser and curiouser." Raphael brushed a tear from her cheek. "Because I dreamed about you, at eight, in a hall of mirrors and I couldn’t find you."

"At a carnival? With a man announcing the attractions in Greek?"

"He had a bright top hat that was ..."

"Blue," they both said together.

Raphael rubbed a hand over his face. "I also saw Randall McFry. He was stabbing Cambyses in the face again and again and again."

"We need to find out what Cam dreamed."

"He’s sick. Blake said he was asleep." A beeping sound silenced Raphael and he pulled his cellphone from the clip on his belt. "A text message from your mother."

"Mom can text message?" Callie’s eyes widened. "That wins the curious award hands down."

"It annoys her so much that she only does it when there is hell to pay." Scrolling to the proper screen, he smiled. "‘Where the hell are you two? Alex is beside himself - open this door right now! I know you’re in FMC!’"

Callie groaned. "We could take the glider and make a run for it."

"What time is it?"

She checked the computer monitor and gasped. "Holy shit, Dad, we’ve been down here for five hours!"

Raphael swore under his breath and said, "Time flies when you’re ass deep in drama. Let them in."

"I don’t want to." She resolutely crossed her arms over her chest. "This is going to *suck*."

He reached over her and pressed the proper command to open the door, kissing the top of her head as he did so. "Just smile and nod, Mija. That’s the only way to handle irate people."

"WHAT THE HELL TOOK YOU SO LONG TO OPEN UP!?" Melana demanded, strolling into the room. Her rich, brown eyes darted left to right as if she expected the evidence of their betrayal to be bound up in the corner. "Well!? Answer me!"

Callie got to her feet and glanced at Alex, who narrowed his eyes at her. "I’m starving. We, uh, worked through lunch."

"Worked?" Alex said through clenched teeth. "On what?"

"Did I say worked?" Callie asked innocently. "I meant *talked*. We *talked* through lunch."

Melana tapped the board they had written on. "Do we look like we were born yesterday? What does ‘vendetta’ mean?"

Hiding his amusement at his wife’s eagle eye, Raphael looked grim. "The cameras on the island picked up an intruder who not only started the fire at Talking Rock ... they came here as well. With a small case."

"Big enough for a snake," Callie added, then filled them in on the theory that Nicky Niarchos was the suspect. When she had spilled all the details, she smiled at Alex. "You - you don’t want to hear any of this, remember? Let’s go see if we can persuade Jonesy to let me raid the refrigerator."

"Dinner will be ready in an hour. Perhaps tonight you’ll actually eat, Calliope, and not start a food fight." Melana regarded Raphael, though she spoke to Callie. "And you, Raphael ... you will kindly show me the footage you mentioned that you didn’t include on the film. The footage of our daughter being used as a pawn."

"No!" Callie shook her head. "That’s ... classified ... and ... boring. So, Mom, why don’t you come upstairs with me and help me ... uh ... set the table?"

"Set the table?" Melana clucked her tongue. "That’s the best you can do? After *years* of working undercover ... *that* is what you come up with to avert my attention? Honestly, mi vida, how you succeeded in your tasks is beyond me."

"She’s got a point, Mija," Raphael grinned. "You’ve lost the touch."

"I have *not* lost the touch! I’ve still got it."

Melana looked unconvinced. "Alex, would you like to see more of their ... endeavors?"

"No." Alex held out his hand to Callie and said, "Let’s go upstairs."

Callie took it. "We should *all* go upstairs."

"I’m not budging until I see for myself what you’re trying so hard to hide." Melana sat down on the sofa, crossing her legs. "Stay or go, Calliope."

"Go, honey." Raphael said with a wink. "I’ll show your mother the ... Diemler case."

Callie turned away with a shrug and followed Alex out of the room. Instead of heading to the kitchen, he led her to their bedroom, closing the door behind them. "I called my mother," he said, pulling her down on the bed beside him. They lay facing each other as he continued, "She said that Fratelli is fine and the cameras and fence are installed at the house." He reached out and brushed a chunk of her hair off her cheek. "And she is now fully aware of what I will and won’t let her say to you."

"Damn it, Alex!"

"She is NOT going to make you feel bad."

"She probably thinks that I made you pick between us now!"

"I don’t care what she thinks."

"Well, I do!" She started to sit up, but Alex caught her and pulled her into his arms. "I can’t believe you said something to her!"

"I love you," he said softly, his hand moving to her hip. "More than you’ll ever know. Because of that ... I refuse to let someone hurt your feelings and not say a damn thing to them. She had no right to talk to you about my dad. None. You have been nothing but generous to her and she’s going to respect you and *us* enough to keep her mouth shut."

"I already told you that she wasn’t mean when she said it. She was just ... she wanted to help."

"Did she? Help? Or did she upset you so much that you almost left me? That’s why you were flying to Alaska and we both know it."

"She’s your mom. She’s worried."

"Would you let Mel say something like that to me? Would you let her upset me so much that I was devastated by it?" When she looked away, he kissed her neck. "I didn’t think so."

She had to smile when he tickled her ribcage and nuzzled a sensitive spot behind her ear. He pulled back in time to see it and shot her a knowing grin. Shaking her head, she said, "I’m still mad at you."

"Are you?"

"Fuming."

"You are pretty hot." His hand moved under her shirt, trailing upward, where he deftly unfastened her bra. Moving to her breast, he palmed it. "Insanely hot, actually. And gorgeous. And ... you’re going to let me take your shirt off, aren’t you?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" He moved to the button of her pants. "And these?"

"Definitely."

"I can get in your pants way too easy."

"That’s where the fun is," she told him, moving her leg over his.

"You’re fun all over. Watch this."

Callie shrieked in pleasure when he attacked her neck again, this time nipping and sucking at her flesh.

He did something she didn’t think was possible.

He made her forget where they were and everything that had transpired with the island.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Who are you calling?" Addison asked, sitting next to Mark on the sofa in their room. She tucked her feet under her and sipped her tea as she watched him put the phone to his ear.

"Derek." He took the cup from her and sipped it, grimacing. "How can you drink this --- Hey, Derek? How’s it going?"

"You must be drinking Addison’s tea," Derek laughed.

Mark grinned. "Is that what she calls it? It’s disgusting."

"I do not remember it fondly," Derek replied, still chuckling. "How are things in Greece?"

"Stormy. On all fronts. How are things in Seattle?"

"Stormy. On all fronts, as well." Derek was no longer laughing. "You won’t believe how cold it is here. We can’t get the house warm enough. Even with the heat on full blast, it’s so cold that we can see our breath at times. We’ve gone through a half cord of firewood in three days."

"Jesus, man. How are you otherwise?"

"I’m okay. I’ve been going to therapy and watching far too many infomercials. When are you guys coming home?"

"No clue. The driveway here was washed out and Addison said she heard the chef saying that it will rain for the rest of the week at least."

"Do you guys have the internet?" Derek asked. "Because you should log onto the Seattle Times and check the headline. Someone destroyed Randall McFry’s grave. From the looks of it, they think that someone tried to dig him up, but couldn’t open the vault."

"WHAT!?" Mark yelled, causing his wife to spill tea all over herself. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"Everybody’s pretty freaked out by it. Burke has a friend at the police department. He was told off the record that there was an animal sacrifice at the foot of the grave and strange symbols carved into the ground beside it. They’re doing DNA on some of the blood that was found on the vault to see if it could belong to the people who tried to get into the grave." Derek took a deep breath. "And that’s not all that’s weird. What I’m about to tell you stays between us, okay?"

"Okay, sure."

"If I was the only one who saw it ... I’d think it was the medication, but Meredith saw it too. Last night ... we saw what appeared to be Randall McFry standing under the streetlight outside our house. He saw us looking at him, made eye contact, and then he was ... gone. And I know that sounds crazy -"

"Believe me, I know crazy at this point and that sounds pretty plausible to me. Don’t ask." Mark glanced at Addison, who was trying to wipe the tea off her shirt. "Did anything else happen?"

"Blood. Blood hit the outside of the window and we thought it was a bird, but we couldn’t find any feathers or a little bird carcass."

Mark closed his eyes, remembering the way blood exploded in the glass case on the film he had watched the night before. Raphael had said that the blood of the last victim stained the soul and ... Addison smacked him on the arm. "Put it on speaker, Mark! For Heaven’s sake!"

"Addison wants to say hi," he said into the phone.

"Hi, Derek!" she happily chirped. "Are we missing anything good?"

"You missed a set of triplets being delivered in the elevator," said Derek. "Other than that, it’s been pretty laid back."

"Triplets! Damn it! I love multiples!"

Mark shook his head. "Orgasms. Multiple *orgasms*. There will be no multiple births here."

Derek laughed. "Are you guys going the trashy route and getting pregnant on your honeymoon?"

"God, no!" Addison made a face. "We’re not that crazy."

"Nowhere *close* to that crazy," Mark added.

Someone gave a loud, terrifying shout in the hallway and Addison shot to her feet. Mark took the phone off speaker and said, "Derek, I can’t get into it right now, but I’ll call you back in a little while. I need to talk to someone about what happened to McFry’s grave."

"People will think I’m crazy if you announce that I’m seeing dead people."

"You’re not as cute as that little kid in ‘The Sixth Sense’, but I don’t think these people will bat an eyelash over it. I’ll talk to you later. Take care."

"Seeya, man."

He got to his feet in time to see Addison slap her leg, bending at the waist to laugh at something. Hurrying across the room, he peered out into the hallway. Callie and Alex stood there, apologizing profusely to Raphael and Melana for being caught on the glass balcony. Callie was blushing, but Alex was fire engine red, staring at the floor as he held a statue of some Greek God in front of his manhood to shield it from view; his boxer shorts were around one of his ankles. His dilemma was obvious. If he bent to retrieve them, he’d have to put the statue down. It was too heavy to hold with one hand. Callie had on his shirt and nothing else from the looks of it. They were both soaked to the skin from the rain.

"HONESTLY, CALLIOPE!" Melana raged. "IT IS FREEZING COLD OUTSIDE! ARE YOU TRYING TO CATCH YOUR DEATH!?"

Callie shook her head, shooting a look at Addison when she snorted. "Shut up, Addy!"

"You are *so* busted!" Mark joined his wife in laughter, pointing at their friends. "By your *parents*!"

Melana spun and looked at Addison, who stopped laughing instantly, then at Mark, who did the same. "The two of you lusty heathens were caught on *film* in the flower garden at Talking Rock. My goodness, I didn’t know it was possible to copulate that long or in so many different ways. Mark, I’m surprised you could wear pants the next day. Surely you were chafed."

Raphael, who was looking at Alex like he wanted nothing more than to choke him, said, "Dinner is ready. My daughter mentioned being hungry earlier so I expect you to keep your hands off her while she gets dressed. Callie, you ... you need to ... I’d rather you were gay."

"Oh, you didn’t know about me and Addison?" Callie cocked her head to one side. "We were pretty hot and heavy for a while."

Addison didn’t miss a beat. "We still would be if you hadn’t married O’Malley and broke my damn heart."

"You were afraid of commitment."

With a gasp, Addison denied it. "Wrong. You were afraid that our co-workers would find out so you refused to move in with me."

"We weren’t compatible. Everything was all sex, all the time with you." Looking sad, Callie sighed. "You were insatiable, Addy. And now there’s video proof of that fact. And my *parents* are clearly pervy enough to watch it!"

Melana and Raphael both spun on their heels, coordinated perfectly. They looked like figure skaters as they rushed around the corner together. Callie waited until they were out of earshot before she started to laugh. Addison followed her into the bedroom and Alex seized the opportunity to put the bust of Zeus back on the table and wrench his boxers up. He looked at Mark, who was staring into the bedroom. "What?"

"Do you think they were serious about that? About ... being together? Because I’d watch ... if you’d watch."

The men rushed into the bedroom, getting stuck in the doorway as they both tried to enter at the same time. Addison and Callie looked at them, unblinking.

"Did you two-" Alex and Mark said as one. "You know?"

Addison nodded. "All the time. And no, you can’t watch."

"We’re monogamous now." Callie pursed her lips together, reaching down to tug Addison closer. "But those were the days."

"Seriously?" Alex looked scandalized, his eyes on the two women’s entwined fingers. "You’re not kidding?"

Both women shook their heads. Callie turned to the closet, pulling out a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater. Addison nodded her approval at Callie’s choice and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You smell good."

"Addison, get out right now!" Alex said, his hands on his hips. "This is not cute."

"I beg to differ." Mark licked his lips, his eyes never leaving the two women. "Five bucks says you won’t kiss her, Addison."

"They know better!" Alex growled, glaring at Callie. "You *better* know better!"

Mark elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut. Up."

Alex massaged his side. "Fine. *Fifty* bucks says you won’t kiss her, Callie."

Callie tossed her clothes onto the bed and turned to Addison, who happily stepped into her arms. As their faces drew nearer, Callie winked at her friend and closed her eyes. They kissed, enjoying the gasps from their husbands. When Addison’s hands tangled in Callie’s hair, Callie reciprocated by cupping her face, one hand on her hip.

When they broke apart, Mark closed his mouth and shook his head in disbelief. "Oh. My. God."

"I need to sit down." Alex looked close to fainting as he sat in the wingback chair in the corner.

"You weren’t kidding," Mark said, rubbing his chest. "I kinda feel dirty."

"Still wanna watch?" Callie asked casually.

Alex got back to his feet. "There better *never* be something to watch!"

Mark backhanded him on the arm. "Dude, shut up! Your man card is about to get a lifelong ban. This is every man’s fantasy."

Addison regarded their exchange with interest. "You don’t mind, Mark. If I *thoroughly* enjoy myself with someone else."

"*I* mind enough for the both of us. Callie, I’m not even kidding you -" Alex began.

"But ... women are so soft." Callie brushed Addison’s hair over her shoulder. "I really miss you, Addy."

"I really miss you, too." Addison touched her own lips with her fingertips. "I had forgotten what you do to me. No one else has this effect on me. I can’t - I can’t get ... enough..."

They moved toward each other again.

"STOP THAT!" Mark said, grabbing Addison’s arm and pulling her closer to him. "Now it’s not okay. At all. You two have a five foot rule! Stay that far away from each other."

"Ten," Alex corrected. "And when we get back to Seattle ... those little late night get togethers the two of you have ... that’s over."

The women smiled at one another. "They’re so gullible," Callie said. "And cute."

"And jealous," Addison added, patting Mark on the back. "Awwww. You get that we’re playing, right?"

Mark threw her over his shoulder, swatting her on the backside. "We may be late for dinner."

Addison smiled at Callie as Mark stalked from the room. "I think we turned him on."

Callie giggled and reached for her pants. Alex stopped her. "What?"

He smirked at her. "I think you turned me on, too."

"I’m *starving*."

"I’ll be fast."

"You better not be."

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie and Alex beat Mark and Addison to the dining room by three minutes. Dinner had not been served yet and only Melana and Raphael sat at the table. Alex pulled Callie’s chair out for her and sat down, avoiding Raphael’s eyes. He could feel the heat from his father in law’s glare and concentrated on unwrapping his napkin as if he had never seen one before. No one spoke until Addison and Mark arrived, breathless and beaming. Mark flopped down across from Alex, looking pleased with himself. "I’m starving."

"Me too." Callie agreed, sipping her water. "Where are Cam and Blake?"

"We’re here," Blake said, hobbling into the room on his crutches. "One of us anyway. I think Cam’s in a walking coma."

Callie turned in her seat to get a good look at her brother. Her eyes widened when she saw him. His face was gray, ashen, and his cheeks looked hollowed. She got to her feet when he walked into the light and felt his forehead. "You’re cold. Clammy."

"I feel like death warmed over." Cam kissed her on the head and moved around the table, resting his hand on his mother’s shoulder briefly before he sat down. "It’s cold in here."

"Have you come down with something, son?" Raphael asked, looking away from Alex for the first time. He frowned when he saw the state his child was in. "My God, Cambyses!"

"I took his temperature," Melana said. "It was actually low."

The staff arrived with enough food for a small army, setting steaming bowls and platters on the table. Cam dug in right away, having slept through lunch. There was a very uncomfortable silence as dishes were past around the table and then Mark broke it by saying, "Is there internet here?"

"No," Melana replied. "We’re lucky to have a phone out here."

"FMC has internet," Callie said, shooting her mother a guilty look. "It’s got a satellite link up. It’s fast as hell."

"I talked to Derek." Mark took a bite of his salad. "He told me the strangest thing. He said that Randall McFry’s grave had been ... dug up. There was also an animal scarified and blood all over the vault."

Callie dropped her roll into her lap. "Are you sure?"

"It’s on the Seattle Times website." Mark watched the dark haired woman closely. "He also said he saw McFry outside his bedroom window last night. Meredith saw it, too. And then blood hit the window. It wasn’t a bird, though. It’s so weird ... I thought about that tube you have downstairs. The way the blood popped all over the inside of that glass container."

Raphael’s fork clattered to his plate, then he knocked his glass of water over and hastily used his napkin to dab at it.

Swallowing hard, Callie looked at her brother. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Horribly," Cambyses replied, stabbing at his roast beef with his fork. "I dreamed that I was at a carnival." He touched the scar on his cheek. "And McFry kept stabbing my face repeatedly."

"House of mirrors?" Raphael and Callie asked together.

They exchanged matching looks when Cam’s eyes widened and he nodded. "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess," Callie said without inflection.

"Well, lucky guess what the fuck he was saying to me. It was something about animal memories and homo innocents." Cam shuddered at the obvious mental image. "He said it a million times."

Callie felt like she had been splashed with cold water. An icy chill raced up her spine and the hairs at the base of her neck danced upward. "Memoria carnis, anima integra, animus fortis existet. Homo reverti venae innocentis."

Cambyses pointed at her. "That’s it! What does it mean?"

Raphael watched Callie for a moment and when she didn’t reply, he said, "Memory made flesh, soul made whole, spirit made strong, a man brought back by the blood of the innocent."

Raising a brow, Cam said, "Those of us who didn’t get to go to Ghoul School need a little help figuring this mess out. So, what the hell is going on?"

Alex put his hand on Callie’s leg and she practically leapt out of her skin. He rubbed her back instead. "You’re shaking, baby."

"He’s back," whispered Callie. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she reached up, swiping it away with her napkin. "Cam looks like hell because of the blood loss."

"I haven’t lost any blood." Cam held his hands up.

"There was no blood on the sheets or anything," Blake agreed. "We’d know."

She shook her head slowly. "No. You wouldn’t."

Addison looked from Raph to Callie. "You guys are officially scaring me. Who’s back?"

Getting to his feet, Raphael walked around the table and squatted down beside Callie. "He cannot cross a body of water. You know that."

Melana slapped the table. "Someone start talking or I’ll start cutting out tongues! And beating you with them."

"There are groups of people," Raphael said, still squatting beside Callie, "who seem to think it’s a good idea to dabble in souls."

"Souls?" Alex couldn’t keep the skepticism from his tone.

Raphael shot him a look. "If you don’t want to hear the explanation then you can leave the room."

"Dad!" Callie rubbed a hand over her forehead, then looked at Alex. "These people watch the news and look for violent deaths. Especially when the death is someone ... cruel or evil. Sometimes they stand outside prisons when someone is being executed and sometimes they go to the grave and try to summon them there."

"Summon them? Like ... Ouija Boards and stuff?" Addison asked. "Because we used to try to summon celebrity spirits with those."

"No." Raphael smiled with amusement, even though the situation was anything but. "We’re talking about using the most gruesome and horrific methods known to man to steal something back from the other side."

"The other side of what?" Blake queried. "Heaven?"

"Hell." Callie wrapped her arms around herself. "It’s easier to pull a soul out of Hell. That’s why they go after evil people. That tube that we have ... this is the same thing."

"I *knew* it!" Mark said, nodding. "I connected the dots! Who needs Ghoul School!? I paid attention to the documentary last night!"

Callie looked at him. "And you said that Derek has seen the manifestation?"

"He saw something," Mark replied. "Something that looked a lot like McFry."

Raphael saw the tears in Callie’s eyes and got to his feet, putting a hand under her chin. "Look at me, honey. This is just another case. We follow the same protocol and we take care of the problem. Fear -"

"Makes you weak. I know. I’m not scared."

"Bullshit!" Alex glared up at Raphael. "Whatever’s going on, whatever you feel like you need to do ... she stays out of it."

"She can’t," Raphael explained. "She’s the only one who knows how to contain it again."

Addison looked confused. "Why is this thing hanging around Derek? Why isn’t it with the people who brought it back?"

"It goes to the last person it saw. In this case, that would be Cambyses. But, there’s an ocean separating them. It went to Derek because he was next in line. He’s familiar. He was there when McFry died." Raphael gave Callie a kiss on the temple and returned to his seat. He nudged Alex under the table with his foot and nodded at Callie. His son in law took the hint and put an arm around her. "Before any of you can ask ... it can’t cross a body of water. Ever. The reasons are many and varied, but the most important one is that an entity that has been summoned in such a manner cannot travel where there is death. And all of our oceans have witnessed death. There are unclaimed bodies in every major body of water.

"Entities can’t tread in the presence of death. They can’t trespass on cemeteries or ‘haunt’ the place of their death." Raphael glanced around the table. "People actually started to cremate family members and keep their ashes in the house to ward off evil spirits. The ashes act as barrier that prevents a manifestation."

"Derek said that his house is so cold that they can see their breath." Mark clasped his hands in his lap. "Does that mean it’s in the house?"

"No," Callie said. "It means that it wants Derek *out* of the house. Does Meredith still have her mother’s ashes in the closet?"

Alex shook his head. "No. Meredith said that they washed her down the sink at the hospital."

"Why would it want him out of the house?" Mark asked.

"It’s just as evil in spirit form as it is in human form. Some people call them poltergeists, some people call them demons. It doesn’t matter what you call them ... they latch onto someone and hang on tight until that person is crazy or until they kill themselves. Then they go straight to Hell with them." Raphael looked down the table at Callie again. "He needs protection until we can get back."

Callie nodded. "Mark, tell him that I gave Meredith a silver ring for her birthday. It has a tiger’s eye stone. He needs to wear that on his left pinky or on a chain so that it rests near his heart."

"Good thinking," Raphael told her. "You and Cam also need to make sure you have silver on at all times. Especially when we get into Seattle."

"What does the silver do?" Addy asked.

"It wards off evil." Callie chewed her bottom lip. "Cam, drink a lot of water and -"

"How much blood did I lose?" he demanded. "And how the hell did I lose it?"

"When someone dies after a committing a violent act, the blood of their last victim stains their soul. When they’re brought back ... it’s actually the victim’s blood, the blood of innocents, that gives them the power to rise again." Callie shrugged her shoulders. "A hundred bucks says that if we take a DNA sample from the blood that hit Derek’s window ... it would match yours. I’ve seen it done a million times."

Melana regarded her with a tense expression on her face. "What I don’t understand ... is why you know how to deal with this spirit, but your father doesn’t."

"I don’t want to talk about that."

"Do it anyway." Melana continued to stare at her. "I’m waiting."

"Don’t, Mel," Raph urged. "Baby, she’s -"

"Do *not* call me baby or tell me what not to ask her. If you’re so concerned with her answer then *you* tell me! You should, after all, you’re the reason she’s in this mess."

Raphael nodded. "Fine. Only someone who has *summoned* a soul can send one back. Callie’s done it. More than once."

A resounding chorus or ‘what’ and ‘oh my god’ filled the room.


"God damn it! Some things should never be told!" Callie got to her feet so fast that her chair fell over. She stormed out of the room without a backwards glance.

"To understand what we were dealing with," Raph hastily added. "She had to learn every avenue of it."

"Why her? Why not you?" Alex demanded. "You were her *father*. You should have made sure she never experienced any of this."

"Judge me if it makes you feel better, Alex," Raphael snapped. "But the fact that I’m her father is why I made sure she knew. Don’t you get it? Don’t any of you understand? That island tasted her blood. It fed off her. And because of that ... she was touched by the supernatural. It’s drawn to her. She *gets* it and it *gets* her. To save her life ... I had to show her how to navigate those waters."

"Then you should have taught her to stay on dry land." Alex threw his napkin onto the table and stood up, his eyes on his father in law. "I used to think that you were the most amazing man I had ever met. I thought that you were full of wisdom and kindness. What you did to her, though, that’s even worse than what my dad did to me. You beat her on the inside. You screwed with her mind. You told her that fear made her weak, Raphael. Fear is healthy. Fear is *needed*. And she’s feeling it now because of what that man did to her and she doesn’t know what to do with that. Because of *you*. So you keep blaming the island or telling all of us how pure your intentions were ... but don’t forget that we *see* the mess you made."

No one spoke as Alex stomped out of the room.

No one needed to.

*~*~*~*~*~

After a thirty minute search of the house, Alex found Callie sitting in the darkened theater. She had her feet propped on the seats in front of her and her head in her hand. He made sure to make a little noise to keep from startling her, but she didn’t look up. He sat down beside her and cleared his throat. "Cal?"

"It’s not how it sounded," she said, not looking up. "I did summon souls, but it wasn’t the exact same way so ... I didn’t have to give mine up or anything. And - well, I did participate in an evil summoning, but I wasn’t the Lead so it’s not like I did anything truly evil and -"

"I don’t care."

She looked at him, blinking as she focused on him in the dim light from the floor runners. "You don’t care?"

"You could sit there and tell me that you’ve sacrificed virgins or puppies or whatever and I don’t care. It wasn’t you. Your *dad* made you do it and I hate him for that, Callie. I hate him for who he made you become."

"It would be so easy to sit here and nod at you and tell you that you’re right, but you’re not, Alex, I wanted to do it. He never forced me to work with him and I always had the option of saying no. I did say no a few times and my dad was fine with that. So, if you need to hate somebody then hate me. Or hate the circumstances, but don’t you ever say that you hate my dad again." Her face hardened and she shook her head. "Ever."

"Hey, you don’t have to get defensive." He put his hand on her leg. "And I don’t have to be okay with what your dad did, either. It was wrong as far as I’m concerned, but we don’t have to fight about it. It won’t change anything if we do and honestly, I’m not interested in going there with you."

"Then what do you want?"

"What I always want." He cupped her cheek. "You. I want you to lean on me, to let me help you, to need me as much as I need you. And I want you to be scared, Callie. I want you to fear whatever’s coming because *I* fear it and I think you should, too. It doesn’t make you weak, it makes you *real*. It makes you cautious. And I’d rather you stand on this side of caution with me than throw caution to the wind."

"I’ve spent the past two weeks being terrified of everything. The wind, the house settling, birds flying, the phone ringing ... and that’s not *real*. That’s pathetic. I let that man beat me -"

"No, no you didn’t. You fought back. You stopped it."

"Derek stopped it," she corrected. "And now he’s back. Randall McFry is back and I can do what I should have done when he *beat* me. I’m gonna win."

"You did win. You’re alive, baby, and you’re okay."

"Mark once told me that I’m not built to play the victim and he’s right." Callie reached out and took his hand. "I’m not scared to face whatever’s coming because I am so fucking glad that I have a chance *to* face it ... I can’t feel anything but grateful. That man bruised me, Alex, but I’m going to break him into a million little pieces and when that happens ... I’m going to be just fine."

He sat back in the seat, putting his feet up like hers. "I don’t know what else to say."

"Then I’ll say something." She turned to face him. "There is never a time that I don’t need you. Every second of the day ... I need you. And I do lean on you. You don’t always feel me because sometimes you’re not there, but when I’m the middle of a really bad day ... I close my eyes and I lean on you. You help me more than anyone ever has and I can’t *fear* anything when I know you’ve got my back."

"You know what?" he asked, smiling. "I’d rather fight with you than make love with anyone else."

"That’s a quote from ‘The Wedding Date’." Leaning forward, she kissed him. "My turn. Take love, multiply it by infinity and take it to the depths of forever.. and you still have only a glimpse of how I feel for you."

"That’s from ‘Meet Joe Black’." He gazed into her eyes for a moment. "Do you ever put your arms out and just spin and spin and spin? Well, that's what love is like. Everything inside of you tells you to stop before you fall, but you just keep going."

"Ooh, ‘Practical Magic’." Callie grinned. "Are you implying something, Alex? I’m not a witch, I’m your wife."

"You sure about that, Gothika?" He chuckled when she smacked him on the arm. "After all, you did levitate at Stonehenge."

She shrugged, getting to her feet. "If I am a witch ... I’m a good one."

"Very, very good." He kissed her stomach and let her pull him up. "I love you."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what."

She hugged him. "I’m gonna hold you to that."

Upstairs, they found a tray full of food on their bed. Callie picked up a sandwich and held it out to Alex, who happily accepted it. Side by side, they ate in silence. A moment later, Cam knocked on the door and poked his head in. "You okay, Cal?"

"I’m fine."

"Are you just saying that? Or are you really?"

"I’m *fine*," she reiterated. "How are you? Feeling any better?"

"I’m fine, too." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door. "Someone tried to kill our dad, Callie. Do you get that?"

"He’s locked down the house, Cam. All the passages are barricaded and the alarm system through FMC is turned on. This place is safer than Fort Knox. No one’s getting in. Or out for that matter." She watched him closely. "If I seem flippant it’s because I’m used to it."

"Of course you are." Cam paced across the room, throwing a log into the fireplace. "I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t wrap my head around any of it. ‘Supernatural’ is a television show, Callie, not my life."

She made a face. "Is that a good show? I don’t watch stuff like that because it’s bound to be wrong and that’ll just piss me off."

"You watch Buffy," Alex pointed out. "How right can that be?"

"Buffy is like a religious experience," she told him.

Cam stabbed the wood with the poker. "This is funny, Callie. It’s not cute. We’re dealing with some really freaky shit and I want to know what to expect when we get home."

"I can’t explain it," Callie shook her head. "I can show you tomorrow. We filmed one when I was about sixteen. And that manifestation didn’t have a psychotic side. So, take what I show you and imagine it fifty times worse."

"I don’t want to see it." Cam put the poker back on the stand. "And I don’t want to imagine it or live it at all."

"You don’t have to be there for it," she assured him. "You can go back to Miami."

"And leave you to do it all? Right." Walking back around the bed, Cam stopped in front of her. "Despite the fact that you lied to me for *years* and you pretty much lived the life I wanted ... you’re still my other half. You’re still my best friend and the person I depend on for everything. So you can’t tell me to go back to Miami or that I don’t have to be there ... because I’m there in spirit whether you like it or not."

"So, you’re not mad at me anymore?"

"No, Miss Manipulator, I’m not mad." Holding out his hand, he waited for her to stand up, then hugged her. "And I’m counting on you to take care of the monster because I’m a chicken shit and I’ll scream like a woman if you don’t."

"You scream like a woman over a frog, Cambyses."

"Oh god." Cam stepped back. "Will there be frog legs or chicken feet or any other weird thing at this ... whatever we’ll be doing?"

She grinned devilishly. "I could tell you, but then you wouldn’t show."

"Fuck. I’m going to bed." He kissed her forehead, clapped Alex on the shoulder, and headed for the door. "By the way ... Mom and Dad are at each other’s throats again. I heard her call him a few names that would still get our mouths washed with soap."

"This is bad." Callie sat back down beside Alex, her head on his shoulder. "What should we do?"

"Leave it alone," Alex said, holding her close. "It’s not your fight. They’ll work it out."

"I hope you’re right."

*~*~*~*~*~

"You know that ring that Callie gave you? The one for your birthday?" Derek asked, sitting next to Meredith on the bed. "Can I borrow it?"

"Why?" she asked, pulling her gloves on.

"I just want to wear it."

"It’s too big for my finger. I keep meaning to have it resized." Meredith stood and rummaged in her jewelry box. Holding it out, she watched him slip it on his pinky. "It’s pretty, huh?"

He studied the stone and nodded. "It’s very pretty."

She crawled back into the bed beside him and pulled the cover over their laps. "How is it possible that it’s colder in this bedroom than outside?"

He opened his mouth to tell her all about the instant messenger conversation he’d had earlier with Mark, but he thought better of it. Derek still couldn’t wrap his head around all of the revelations. His first instinct had been to laugh and mock his friend, but Mark seemed to believe it and had been very clear and concise in his orders. Wear Meredith’s ring and stay inside.

"Were you gonna say something?" she asked.

"Just that I love you." He kissed her softly. "And I’m feeling pretty damn good right now so why don’t I show you how much."

"Ooooh, show me. Nothing warms a bed more than friction."

It wasn’t until they finished making love for the second time that they realized they could no longer see their breath when they exhaled.

They fell asleep warm and comfortable for the first time in days and slept the entire night through.

*~*~*~*~*~
Ch 13
*~*~*~*~*~

Callie awoke before anyone else in the house, the same horrifying dream still fresh in her mind. It had happened all over again; the carnival, the smaller version of herself, and Alex’s death had been a macabre repeat of the previous night. Tears were still coursing down her cheeks when she dressed in warm pajamas and headed downstairs to the kitchen in search of something cold to drink. Instead of going into the main kitchen, she went to the small respite area near the theater and dug through the under the counter refrigerator there. It reminded her of Goon Docks and she smiled as she pushed cans of soda around, slowly beginning to calm down. She located an orange juice in the back of the fridge and grabbed it, knocking over a row of small alcohol bottles. There was vodka, rum, and gin lined up ... silently begging her to drink it. Her hands shook as she sat them back up. Grey Goose had never looked quite as inviting.

Hating herself for her thoughts, she twisted the lid on the juice and took several swallows. It tasted flat compared to what it *could* taste like. She eyed the vodka and licked her lips, hating that she hesitated over whether or not she should drink at all. She knew that she shouldn’t, that she would regret it and lose everything, but God, she wanted it. Her hand went to the Grey Goose and she pulled it out, gazing down at the familiar label.

Raphael watched from the doorway, his jaw tight. Beside him, Alex was gripping the jamb tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Callie saw neither. Gathering all the bottles into her arms, she got to her feet and set them on the counter. She opened the gin first and tipped it into the sink, exhaling slowly when the smell of it made its way to her. Next, she disposed of the rum and finally, she lifted the vodka, taking another look at her orange juice. Nothing would chase away the ghost of McFry like a screwdriver ... or mess her life up as much. Twisting the lid off, she poured the contents down the drain and turned the water on, forcing the scent away. When it was gone, she shut the water off and held onto the rim of the basin as she closed her eyes. Another battle fought and won, she thought. Lifting her juice, she walked out of the kitchen, still oblivious to her audience and headed into the blue room.

Alex and Raphael stood side by side for a moment. Raph spoke first. In a low, rumbling voice, he said, "You all underestimate her. My methods may have left a lot to be desired, Alex, and maybe she is a mess ... but she’s a *strong* mess."

Alex nodded. "I apologize for what I said to you at dinner. I had no right to-"

"You have every right." Raph clapped him on the shoulder. "You’re a part of this family now, son. You’re a part of her. And Callie wouldn’t tolerate a man who doesn’t take a stand. ‘Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter’. That’s a quote by Martin Luther King, Jr. and Callie liked it so much that she had it painted on her bedroom wall when she was a teenager. I think she still believes it."

"I can attest to that. She’s got a very, very big penchant for saying exactly what’s on her mind." Alex smiled at his father in law. "How are things with you and Mel?"

With a shake of his head, Raphael sighed. "My wife perfected the art of holding a grudge in the womb, I believe, because she’s able to do it effortlessly. She’s not talking to me. I’d prefer that you not mention that to Callie, though. Melana made it very clear that we will be putting on quite the display for her benefit."

"You’re not gonna fool Callie. It’ll just piss her off if you try to."

"I’d rather deal with Callie’s wraith than Melana’s."

Alex chuckled. "You *are* the wise man I thought you were."

"Then take my advice and go see why my little girl is awake so early." He nodded toward the door. "And, Alex?"

"Yes, sir."

"Endeavor to keep your pants on because I may walk through that room in a while to check on her myself and I can’t guarantee that I’ll take seeing your ... bare ass ... very well for a second time."

Alex’s ears felt hot and he knew he was blushing. "I’ll keep that in mind."

"One more thing." Watching the other man squirm gave Raphael warm fuzzies. "You’re taking the news about the supernatural events around here very well. Why is that? Have you experienced things like this before?"

"No." Shaking his head, Alex shrugged. "You can show me the Devil himself ... and I’d still tell you that love is stronger. If Callie can make me believe *that* then she can make me believe anything."

"I thought I heard voices," Callie said, flipping the light on in the kitchenette. "What are you two doing?"

"You know I can’t sleep without you," Alex told her, joining her. He brushed her hair off her cheek and gave her a kiss. "Are you okay?"

Callie saw his eyes stray to the bottles on the counter. Her heart slammed against her chest. "I didn’t drink that. I swear to God, I didn’t."

He took her hand, kissing it. "You don’t have to tell me that. I know."

She looked at her father, who nodded at her. "I know that, too, mi vida," Raphael said, winking at her. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Couldn’t sleep." Finishing off her juice, Callie tossed it into the trash, then threw the liquor bottles in as an afterthought. "What about you, Dad?"

"I was watching for our late night visitor. I didn’t see anything, though." Raphael hugged her. "But I’m exhausted so I’m going to go take a nap."

She returned the hug with ferocity and watched him walk away. Leaning back against the counter, she bit her bottom lip. "He’s avoiding my mother."

"Let’s go back to bed," Alex suggested, more to get her mind off her parents than anything else. "The sun’s not even up yet and it’s freezing down here."

Thunder rumbled in the distance, rattling the glasses on the counter. It caused an ominous, foreshadowing feeling in the pit of Callie’s stomach. She wanted nothing more than to burrow under the covers in the safety of her husband’s arms. "Bed’s good."

Hand in hand, they headed back toward their room. In the hallway where her parents were staying, Callie heard a muffled shout and drew up short. Alex tugged her hand to pull her along behind him, but she shook her head. "Wait," she whispered, pressing a finger to her lips.

There was a loud thud and Melana shrieked. Without knocking, Callie rushed into the room in time to see her father wrestling with a person dressed in head to toe black. The intruder was much smaller than Raphael, but the knife in his hand more than made up for the size difference. Callie watched as her mother tried to join the fray, but it was Alex who darted past her and delivered a punch to the stranger’s jaw. The knife clattered to the ground and Callie scrambled for it, elbowing the masked man to the ground. She saw the blood on her father’s stomach at the same time Melana did. Both women cried out in outrage and Callie picked up a jewelry box, smacking the man at her feet in the head with it twice before Alex wrenched it away from her. "You asshole!" she screamed, kicking the man in the gut.

"Raphael, how badly are you wounded?" Mel demanded. "Let me see!"

"I’m fine!" Raphael said, lifting his shirt. "It’s just a flesh wound."

"Bastard," wheezed the intruder. "I hope you bleed to death."

Bending, Callie snatched the mask off the man and staggered backwards, unable to believe her eyes. The entire world had been knocked off its axis and she was falling into Hell. "Uncle Xeno?!"

Melana, who had been pressing a pillowcase to Raphael’s stomach, stepped around Callie. She sucked in her breath and put a hand to her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief. "Xenos, what -"

"I wasn’t going to hurt you," Xenos said, reaching a bloody hand toward his sister. "Melana, please! Never you."

"He’s bleeding." Callie squatted down beside her uncle, tugging his shirt open. The wound on his chest was massive and his blood was spilling at an alarming rate. "Oh my god," she cried, reaching past him. She yanked open a drawer on the bureau and pulled out one of her father’s white undershirts, holding it firmly against the cut. "Alex, get Mark! And tell Addison to get the first aid kit in the kitchen. Hurry!"

"Why?" Melana had begun to cry now and her voice was frantic, frenzied. "Xenos, what are you doing? Why are you here? Why did you attack Raphael? And the snake? Was that you!?"

Xeno looked at Raph with narrowed eyes. "You stay away from my island."

"You’re island!?" Melana yelled. "Yours! Do I need to remind you that mother left everything to *me*? It’s all mine!"

Coughing, Xeno splattered Callie with blood from his mouth. She told him to stop talking, to not move, but he plowed ahead. "In name! In spirit, it’s mine. I understand it. I respect it. Raphael ... he wants to rape and pillage the entire land. He wants to destroy it and he’s doing it again!"

"I haven’t done anything," Raphael said, shaking his head at Melana. "I haven’t been there in years."

"You told them all the secrets," Xeno spluttered. "All of them. Even the strangers. If you’re not reopening it then -"

"Who told you that?" Callie demanded, pulling her uncle forward and banging him back against the wall. "Who!?"

"Calliope, stop it!" Mel screamed, grabbing at her. "He’s wounded."

"He tried to kill my father!" Callie shouted, banging him back again. "You left FMC, Xeno. You left it because you couldn’t stand the truth! So don’t you dare pretend like you know *anything* now."

Melana wrenched Callie backwards with enough force to make her land on her backside. "Stop it! Now!"

Raphael sat back on the bed, lightheaded. "We’re doing nothing, Xenos. Nothing. Melana found out about FMC and we had to expose the truth."

Xenos shook his head. "You liar. I made it my life’s work to watch you. To keep an eye on you. I tried to warn you off the island entirely and -"

"You!" Raphael leaped up, cringing at the pain. "You put the bomb on Kakistos’s yacht! That was you! I’ve always wondered how the person knew that we were there, that we were with family! You would have killed your own *brother* to stop me?! You almost killed my *children*!"

"I didn’t know they’d be on the boat!" Xeno bellowed, coughing again.

"No!" Melana gazed down at her brother through blurry eyes. "No. Nononono. Xeno, say you didn’t! Say you didn’t almost kill my babies!"

Callie pushed herself to her feet, unable to believe her ears. "That was you? Uncle Xeno ... you did that to us?"

"Not to you. To this good for nothing son of a bitch that destroyed us all! It wasn’t until Melana let him into our lives that it all fell apart." Xeno laughed ... he actually laughed. It was a cruel, bruising sound. "He caused my father’s death! He came breezing into town and got Melana pregnant. At sixteen! He planned it! He made it happen! He knew that my father would force them to get married at Talking Rock so he set a trap for him there. Raphael taught us how to wire the place with explosives and he *knew* that my father would die in the wreckage! He wanted him gone so he could take over where Papa left off! And he did!"

"Our *father* was a traitor!" Melana screeched. "He killed hundreds of people. Thousands! He destroyed lives, Xenos! Raphael came here to help us! How quickly you have forgotten that it was Raphael who helped you into the pond, who kneeled down and prayed for your health, and this ... THIS ... is how you repay him!? By almost taking his children ... OUR CHILDREN!? You are the son of a bitch! You are the coward! You are the -"

"LIES! It’s all lies!" Xenos pushed himself further up the wall. "He’s got you brainwashed! He’s a liar, Melana! He lied to you for years! He said he retired! Why do you think he did that!?"

Mark and Alex ran into the room. They both started toward Xenos, but the old man lifted his leg and pulled a gun from a holster on his ankle. He brandished it hysterically, pointing at everyone and no one. "Stay there! I’ll shoot! I will!"

"Have you lost your mind!?" Callie stepped toward her Uncle, but he leveled the gun at her face and cocked it.

"I have nothing left to lose, do I?" He glared at her. "Look at you. You were Daddy’s little helper, trying so hard to stop the island from doing good. You’re evil. You’re all evil."

Melana forced Callie behind her and lifted her chin. "If you feel the need to shoot someone ... you will shoot me. And you will look me in the eye when you do so. You will look me in the eye and remember that I was the one who cared for you when you were ill. I was the one who took you to the orchard when Mama said your lungs were too weak to go. I was your best friend, your only friend and you were mine. So, you think of that ... when you kill me. Because you will *not* hurt my family, you traitorous bastard."

"Mom-" Cambyses stood framed in the doorway, stunned. "What’s happening?"

Melana didn’t look away from her brother. "Your uncle was about to kill me, son. Because he almost killed you and your sister. Because he tried to kill your father tonight."

Xeno looked at Cam, who put a hand to his own heart and shook his head. Next, Xeno looked at Callie, who was regarding him like something dirty, something to be swept away. Finally, he turned his attention to Melana and started to cry. "You don’t know what it’s like. It gets inside you, that place. Athena ... she said I’m a guard. I owe it my loyalty because it saved me, it gave me life. I -"


"*I* gave you life!" Melana corrected, her voice choked with emotion. "*I* am the one who nursed you back to health time and time again. *I* am the one who wrapped your chest in warm cloths and stayed with you when you wretched until it hurt you. I am your blood, Xenos. *We* are your blood. These children ... even my husband ... we are your blood and you spat at us. You would give your loyalty to a piece of land and not to your own family? That’s beyond reproach! That’s sickening!"

"He’s bleeding. He’s bleeding bad," Cam said, hurrying forward.


Xeno turned the gun toward Cambyses, who froze. Melana screamed and lunged forward, but it was too late. Before she could grab the firearm, Xeno had turned it on himself.

One loud shot rang out.

Xeno’s aim was true.

What remained of his head slumped forward and he spoke no more.

*~*~*~*~*~

Melana had required sedation. It took both Mark and Alex to pull her from the room, away from her brother’s body. Addison had dug through the older woman’s purse at Callie’s insistence to locate her bottle of Valium, which she coaxed Melana into taking after fifteen minutes of trying. Inconsolable, Melana eventually allowed Cambyses to help her into the bed in the darkest room, where she clung to him, asking him to find Raphael. It wasn’t until Raph walked into the room that she settled down. He pulled her into his arms and held onto her and eventually ... she slept.

Callie had put seventeen stitches into her father’s abdomen, grateful for the diversion. He had been right ... it was only a flesh wound, but it was a long and jagged flesh wound that she knew was more painful than he let on. She gave him one of her own pain pills that were left over from her attack and stood in the doorway a while later, watching her parents rest. Because the driveway had been washed out the previous day, the wait for a helicopter to come and remove Xeno’s body was a long one. As much as it pained her to do so ... she returned to the room where her uncle lay dead.

Alex was coming out of the room as Callie came around the corner. He reached for her, but she shook her head. "I need to see him."

"No." Alex hugged her. "You saw enough."

Pushing at his chest, she took a step back. "I have to, Alex. I have to check for something."

Confused, he said, "You can’t disturb the body, Callie. This is a police thing now."

"I won’t disturb anything." She stepped around him and opened the door. Someone had put a blanket from the bed over Xeno and she peeled it back, carefully avoiding looking at what was left of his once handsome face. Lifting his pants leg, she pulled his sock down and studied his ankle, where three blue stars had been tattooed, their points all touching. "Son of a fucking bitch!" she cried, pulling his pants leg down. Next, she patted his pockets and pulled out a Blackberry, an old cell phone, and his wallet.

"What is that tattoo?"

"The Niarchos emblem! He gave them his loyalty!"


Rising, she sat down on the bed and flipped open the cell, powering it on. There were several text messages which she scrolled through and then she checked the recent calls. As she had expected, several calls were made to and came from the Niarchos family compound. All of them were in a code that would take hours to break, but she had nothing but time on her hands. Setting aside the phone, she lifted his wallet and dug through it. He had photos of her and her brothers, even Melana and Raphael, though Raph’s face had been scratched off the photograph. With a grimace, she emptied the contents, then bent the expensive leather in her hands. Something hard and rectangular indicated that there was another compartment, one that wasn’t visible to the eye. Studying the seams, she found a small area where the color of thread was lighter, and ripped it open. A disc fell into her lap, covered in a protective plastic case. She slipped it into the pocket of her pajamas and stuffed his belongings back into his wallet, before returning it to the zippered pocket on his pants leg.

Alex watched with interest as she tinkered with the Blackberry. It had obviously been password protected and she gave up after three guesses, shoving it into her pocket with the disc. "You’re not returning it?"

"No," she replied, meeting his eyes for a moment. "You never return anything that holds memories."

"The wallet was full of photos, Cal. You put it back."

"Those are lies. He can take those straight to Hell with him." Not bothering to cover Xeno again, she walked out of the room without a backward glance.

Alex pulled the blanket back over him and jogged after her, following her down into FMC. She didn’t seem to mind his company because she pulled a sheet of paper from a desk drawer and asked him to type the jumble of numbers, symbols, and letters into the MS-DOS window that she pulled up. Fifteen minutes later, it was done and he looked at her. She was standing in front of the screens, watching a backlog of video from Talking Rock. "What now?"

"Press enter." She glanced his way. "Did it prompt you for a password?"

"Yeah."

"Type in ‘Melana’."

"Okay." He did as she requested, then gasped when the CIA logo filled the computer screen.

"Congratulations," she said, kissing him on the top of the head as she connected a wire to the Blackberry. "You just hacked the Central Intelligence Agency. I’m so proud."

"Holy fuck." He swallowed hard. "Are you serious?"

"It’s a backdoor. Untraceable, thank God, and incredibly useful. Type in ‘traceroute’ and you’re done."

He looked up at her. "What will it do?"

"Watch and learn, Jock Strap." She nodded at the screen. "Go ahead."

His fingers flew across the keyboard and he pressed enter, his eyes widening as a jumble of numbers filled the screen. "What’s it-"

"It will check number combinations first. Those are the most common passwords that people use. Birthdays, anniversaries, deaths. If it doesn’t ping with numbers, it’ll do the alphabet and it won’t stop until it figures out how to get into the phone." Callie pulled the disc out of her pocket. "Let’s see what we have here."

"Callie, wait," Alex told her, taking her hand. He got to his feet and studied her face, which was pale, but impassive. "You just watched your uncle kill himself. Talk to me."

"He’s not my uncle, Alex. You stop being my family when you stab me in the back. Or ... you know ... stab my father in the gut." Nostrils flaring slightly, she added, "I won’t waste one tear on him and I won’t let his death hurt me as much as he wanted his life to."

"Baby, it’s okay to cry."

"I’m not gonna cry."

"Why?"

She ran a hand through her hair. "Do you think I should have cried because Randall McFry died?"

"What? No!"

"Well, what Xenos did to this family is the same thing that Randall did to me. He hurt us. I don’t generally forgive that."

Alex had never seen the blind hatred that was reflected in her eyes. He had never heard the cold, hard way she spoke, either. It was unnerving and hard to handle. "Are you going to go to his funeral, Callie?"

"If my mother needs me there I’ll go. If she doesn’t ... I won’t."

"This isn’t you."

"If you got a phone call right now that your father was dead ... would you cry?"

"No, but-"

"Okay, then." She pointed at the screen behind him. "The password is halfway finished. I’m gonna check this disc."

Addison cleared her throat, standing in the doorway to FMC, which had been left open. "They’re here to take his body, Callie. I don’t think that Cambyses can handle it."

"I’ll do it," Alex said, getting to his feet. "I’ll sign the papers or whatever they need."

Callie nodded at him. "Thank you."

Leaning down, he kissed her on the lips. "I’ll be right back."

Watching him go, Callie sighed and glanced at Addison. "Don’t ask me if I’m okay. Don’t talk to me about *anything* that happened."

"You should talk to someone."

"No."

"You saw it happen."

"I’ve seen a lot of stuff happen. And I don’t want to talk about it. At all. So, don’t try."

Addison sat down in the chair that Alex had vacated. "Can I check my email from here?"

"Check it from this one." Callie pulled up the web browser and motioned for her friend to swap seats with her.

Addison complied and typed the web address in the bar, shooting covert glances at Callie, who was tinkering with an old, clunky cell phone. "Cal?"

"What?"

"You don’t think it’s weird that I could worry about email at a time like this? You’re supposed to -"

"It’s *fine*." Callie assured her, turning back to the phone and jotting down some of the code to manually work on it. They sat in silence for close to five minutes, the only sounds coming from the mouse as Addison clicked through her mail.

Callie walked across the room to locate a bigger pad of paper and as she bent to retrieve it, Addison sobbed. Leaving the paper where it was, Callie hurried back to her friend and squatted down beside her. "I’m sorry, Addison. This is *not* how I wanted you to spend your honeymoon. I mean, I didn’t want to come here and I didn’t want my mother to send you here either. I wanted you to go to the Bahamas or -"

"Shut up," Addison cried, her eyes still on the screen. "I’m glad you’re here."

"You wouldn’t happen to be on your period would you?"

"I can’t have kids," Addy wailed, pointing at the monitor. "My friend Naomi mailed me the test results from that trip I took to see her. I wasn’t just visiting her, Cal, I was getting some tests run. And apparently my eggs are ... bastards. They’ll never have a father."

Taking her hand, Callie scrolled through the email for herself. "No, it says that you only have a twenty percent chance of getting pregnant. It doesn’t say you can’t. There are fertility drugs that will quadruple your chances."

"Mark will leave me." Addison grabbed a box of Kleenex and dug out a few. "He wants kids. He won’t stay with me if I can’t give that to him. I mean, I already took one and he’s forgiven me for that with the disclaimer that we have to try again. And now ... now I can’t give him *any*."

"You’re babbling and I think you are grossly underestimating Mark Sloan. He loves you."

Addison sobbed even harder. "I really, really wanted kids. I wanted to be a mom like yours. I wanted to not make the mistakes my own mother made with me. Callie, all I think about is holding a baby that’s *mine* ... that’s a part of Mark. Every baby I deliver ... I hold it for just a second longer than I should ... and I think about the abortion and I think about the look on the mother’s face when I hand it to her. That could have been me and I got rid of it. Now ... it’ll never be me."

Callie’s eyes filled with tears. Hugging her friend close, she said, "You are going to be a wonderful mother, Addison. And you *will* have a family."

"You can’t know that!" Addison replied, then her eyes widened. "Wait, please don’t tell me that you’re psychic or something because I have really had *all* the paranormal mumbo jumbo that I can stand. Ever."

"I’m no psychic." Callie smiled at her. "But I happen to know for a fact that every couple who has EVER had sex at Talking Rock ... conceives there. And it sounds like you opened a double can of coital bliss when you visited."

Addison’s eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Do you not remember me telling you to keep your pants up?"

"Maybe we should go and do it again."

Callie’s smile faded. "No, you shouldn’t. The island would view that as greed and take more from you than you stood to gain. Or maybe it would view it as lust and take away your sex drive."

"Huh?"

"Don’t ever repeat this," Callie said. "When I was married to George ... Xeno sent me some of the water from the spring. He said that he had me on his mind and thought I could use it. George and I had a fight and he left and as usual, I was miserable. I mixed every drop of that water with alcohol before I realized that I had picked up the wrong bottle. That was gluttony, Addison, and the island knew that. Nothing has really quenched my thirst except alcohol since then."

Addy sniffled. "Are you - you’re telling me that the island made you an alcoholic?"

Callie squeezed her eyes shut. "I hate that word. I’m telling you that the island punishes sin. I don’t really know if what I think is right, but I know that it makes sense based on what I know about the way it all works."

"Well, can’t you undo it?"

"I could be like Xeno and drink the water every day." Callie’s eyes burned again. She pictured her uncle playing hide and go seek with her in the grotto, teaching her to drive, showing her how to take the perfect photograph with his fancy camera. "It kept him healthy, but it turned his heart to stone. He got his body back, but lost his loyalty and his ... love for us."

"I don’t believe that." Addison caught the tear that dropped onto her friend’s cheek. "I think he loved you very much. But I think the same thing that drove you and your father to betray your mother ... drove him, too. And by the way ... I was so homesick for you guys that I felt like my honeymoon didn’t really start until you got here."

"You wanted your honeymoon to be a freak show?"

"Well, I guess I’d take out the scary shit and maybe have a lot more sex, but I’m genuinely glad that you guys came." Addison nodded. "I mean it. I missed you like crazy."

"I missed you like crazy, too."

"And you’re gonna miss your Uncle Xeno. Because he was funny. And charming. And -"

"I know." Callie’s chin trembled. "I really did love him."

Addison hugged her.

They cried together, not pulling apart until Melana waltzed into the room.

"What are you two doing?" Mel asked, staring at the phone and the computer screen. "Answer me, Calliope."

Callie stood. "How’s Daddy?"

"He’s still resting. Why are you down here when you should be helping your brother? He’s devastated." Melana crossed her arms over her chest. "And what are you doing? I won’t ask again."

"Xeno had three stars on his leg," Callie replied. "I checked. So ... I thought I’d go through his phone. Maybe something there will clue us in."

"My heavens," Melana’s tone was light and terrifying. "You jumped right into work mode, didn’t you? Instead of kneeling down to pray for his soul ... you checked for the mark of the beast. Instead of mourning him, you came down here to rifle through his personal effects. He’s not even cold yet, honey, isn’t there a moratorium on how quickly you can plunder a person’s memory?"

"I just thought -"

"You *thought*?" Mel shook her head. "You’re not thinking at all. If you were, you’d have your ass upstairs with your *family* instead of hiding away in this dungeon to pick his bones! Give me the phones, Calliope. They’re not yours and whatever your Uncle was hiding was valuable enough for him to die for ... so, it’s going with him. Do you understand me? There will be no more of this madness."

"But -"

Reaching around her, Melana pulled the wire from the Blackberry and gathered the other cell phone, stowing them in the pocket of her robe. "You will not become your uncle or your father. You won’t be consumed by this or let it dictate your life. Do you understand me? This ends now. FMC is officially over and you’re not a part of this madness any more. I will not allow it."

"Mom-"

"It’s over! It ends now! Before anyone else gets hurt!"

Callie slumped back in the chair when Melana stormed out of the room. "Shit."

"Let’s go upstairs," Addison urged. "Before she comes back down here and kicks both of our asses."

Nodding, Callie got to her feet, covertly pocketing the disc that she had taken from her uncle’s wallet.

It was more important than the phones.

And she would cling to it for dear life.

*~*~*~*~*~

When Derek didn’t arrive for his follow up visit, Burke was concerned. So, he rounded up Cristina at lunch time, bought them both burgers, and headed to Meredith’s house. A heavy rain was falling and he hurried to the passenger side to assist Cristina, keeping his umbrella over her as they made their way up the sidewalk. When they stepped on the porch, they both drew up short. At least twenty cats sat on the floor and railings. As they watched, a large white feline’s ears went back and it began to hiss and cry in the most frightening way imaginable. It sounded demonic, possessed. One large paw came out and scraped at the air near Cristina. Burke pulled her back, putting himself between her and the cat.

"What the hell is going on?" Cristina asked, wrapping her arms around herself. Her feet crunched as she stepped toward the door and she looked down, stunned to see ice. "It’s in the forties. It’s not cold enough to freeze."

Around them, all the cats began to hiss. Burke looked back at the white cat, then followed its gaze. He took a stumbling step backwards when Randall McFry came into view. The man didn’t step up from the side of the house or come out of the house. He simply ... *became*. Cristina appeared to be frozen in one spot, her eyes unwavering as McFry walked ... no ... glided ... toward them. Reaching into his pocket, Burke pulled out his lucky scrub cap, clutching it in both hands. McFry stopped moving and hovered near the front door, swaying slightly as if in a breeze. The cats behind him were visible THROUGH him, but the view was foggy and fragmented. Like looking through a smokescreen. "Our father," Burke said softly. "who art in Heaven ... hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, in earth as it is heaven..."

The front door opened and an arm shot out, grabbing Cristina, who screamed bloody murder. Burke continued to pray as he followed her inside. Meredith slammed the door and stepped away from it. Preston, who had leaned back against it, was startled by her avoidance of the door and quickly followed her, sitting down beside Cristina, who appeared to be holding her breath. "Are you okay?" he asked her, pulling her against him.

"What. The. Hell. Was. That!?" she asked, then pointed at the window beside the door, unable to speak. "Mmmph!"

A face, Randall’s face, was peering in at them. He was grinning, but it wasn’t an inviting smile. It was horrible and leering and Cristina jumped up, pulling the coat rack in front of the pane. "Holy shit."

Derek, who had been upstairs, hurried down when he heard voices. He looked at Meredith, who nodded. "They saw it?"

"We saw it." Worrying his cap between his fingers, Burke’s eyes widened. "What was *it*?"

"That’s the million dollar question." Derek hurried down the stairs and peered outside. "Everyone doesn’t see it. George didn’t see it earlier, but Izzie did."

"And cats, apparently." Meredith jumped when one of the cats outside screeched and something hit the front door. "There were more out there earlier."

"Are there any vans in the neighborhood? You know, for hidden cameras? Because this has to be a practical joke." Cristina moved closer to Burke when Derek shook his head.

"It’s not a joke." With as much detail as possible, Derek told them what Mark had shared in email and on the phone. He wasn’t sure exactly how Callie and her father knew about the paranormal, but they did and so far, everything they had suggested could happen ... was happening. "I’ve tried to call Mark for hours now, but no one’s answering. We’ve tried Callie and Alex ... even Addison ... to no avail."

Burke pulled out his cell phone and dialed Alex. On the fourth ring, he was close to hanging up when the other man answered. "Alex! Hello! It’s Preston! Fine, fine. Listen, I’m at Derek’s and ... what? Oh my God, I’m sorry. When? How is Callie? And her mother?" He paused, looking stricken. "I see. No, no things are fairly bad here as well. Yes, we’ve seen the ... what is it exactly? Did you just say ‘soul’?"

Putting the phone on speaker, Preston shook his head. "Melana’s brother committed suicide earlier today. In front of them all. Alex asked me to hold on."

"Preston?" Alex asked, coming back on the line. "Here’s Raphael."

"Hello?" Raphael said, sounding sleepy.

"Raphael!" Derek moved closer to the phone. "I’m so sorry to hear about Melana’s brother! Can we do anything?"

"No - no, thank you," Raphael replied. "I need you to tell me what’s happening there?"

"The porch is full of cats," Meredith said.

"And it’s frozen over," Cristina interjected. "And what the hell is it?"

With minimal details, Raph explained what they believed to be occurring. He said nothing about FMC or his involvement with the CIA, but he kept his tone matter of fact and was relieved when no one attempted to second guess or argue semantics. "Are any of you religious?" he asked, when he finished the tale.

"I am," Preston replied. "When the ... apparition came toward us on the porch, I prayed. It backed off."

"I’m going to put Callie on the phone. You do exactly what she says, okay?" Raphael said. "It can only work if you do this."

"Okay." Preston looked at Derek, who nodded.

When Callie got on the phone, she sounded congested, but no one asked if she was sick. She had obviously been crying. "Hey," she said softly. "I need you to get a big pitcher and fill it with warm water."

Meredith raced into the kitchen. The others followed behind her. "Callie," Preston began, "I’m so sorry to hear about your uncle. Please let us know if we can -"

"You have bigger problems," Callie cut him off and cleared her throat. "Let me know when the pitcher is full."

"Finished," Meredith called. "Now what?"

"Who will be blessing the water?" Callie asked.

"I will," Burke replied. "I’m not Catholic, though."

"You don’t have to be." Taking a deep breath, Callie added, "Put your hand in the water, Preston, and say what I say."


Doing as she asked, he rolled up his sleeve and put his hand in. "Okay."

They recited the prayer in Latin first. Burke, who had taken three years of Latin, was able to get the full effect. A moment later, they spoke it in English.

"God, who for the salvation of the human race has built your greatest mysteries upon this substance, in your kindness hear our prayers and pour down the power of your blessing into this element, prepared by many purifications." Callie waited until he repeated it back word for word. "May this, your creation, be a vessel of divine grace to dispel demons and sicknesses, so that everything that it is sprinkled on in the homes and buildings of the faithful will be rid of all unclean and harmful things." Pausing again, she listened closely. "Let no pestilent spirit, no corrupting atmosphere, remain in those places: may all the schemes of the hidden enemy be dispelled." Another pause. "Let whatever might trouble the safety and peace of those who live here be put to flight by this water, so that health, gotten by calling Your holy name, may be made secure against all attacks. Through the Lord, amen."

"Amen," Burke repeated. "Do I take my hand out now?"

"Yeah," Callie said, her voice flat. "Take a little of the water in a cup and sit it aside. That water will bless every pitcher that you need from here on out. Preston, take another cup full and draw a cross on every window, every door, and every reflective glass. That includes mirrors, the television screen, anything shiny that can hold an image. Derek?"

"I’m here."

"You take the rest of the water and pour it on the ice on the front porch. Concentrate it around the door. Do the same at the back door and any basement entrances." Callie waited until he promised he would. "Meredith? Do you have any ashes in your house? Dead relatives?"

"My mother kept my grandmother in the attic."

"Get those ashes and sit them in the heart of the house. Sit them in the place that you spend the most time," said Callie. "And don’t go outside. We’ll be home in three days. We’re staying for my Uncle’s funeral and then we’re heading straight to Seattle. Stay inside. This thing gets stronger with every day that passes. It can *not* come into your house as long as you have those ashes, but if you cross that threshold ... all bets are off."

"Why can some of us see it? George can’t see it." Meredith’s voice shook, but not from the cold. "Burke and Cristina saw it. Even Izzie."

"Because they saw him in the flesh." Callie explained. "The only people who can see a torn soul are the ones who saw his physical body. You were the ones who got him off me. You were the ones who were there when he died. If he can’t get to Derek ... he’ll start trying to get to anyone else who was there at the end. Is Izzie there with you?"

"No," Meredith replied. "She’s at work."

"Get her there. Soon. And keep her inside with you. Do you know if she’s still wearing the silver necklace we gave her for Christmas?" Callie asked. "She needs to wear silver. All of you need to wear silver. And if you have white candles, *any* white candles, you can burn those."

"Okay," Derek said. "We’ll do this. Are you okay, Callie? You - you’ve been through a lot and -"

"I’m fine." Callie cut him off. "Call us back tonight and let us know what happens. If you need anything else, please let us know. I - I’m so sorry that this has happened."

Everyone spoke at one to assure her that it was fine, but she had already hung up.

Cristina shook her head. "This is the part where I point out that this is not humanly possible and we’re all hallucinating."

"We’re *all* hallucinating?" Derek looked at her. "We’re all having the same vivid and horrifying vision?"

"I don’t believe in ghosts or goblins or Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy." Yang made a face. "The candid camera angle makes more sense. Or maybe McFry had a twin who is pissed."

"A see through twin?" Burke scooped out water into a cup and drew a cross on the kitchen window. Blood hit the outside a moment later, splattering in a cob web pattern. "Whoa."

"Whoa," Derek agreed. "If we get out of this alive ... I’m gonna go to church."

"Me, too," Meredith nodded.

Cristina stared at the window. "I may move *into* the church."

Burke actually chuckled. "That’s about as believable as this entire mess."

*~*~*~*~*~

"Let me get this straight?" George paced across the living room of Meredith’s house, his hands on his hips. "I’m supposed to tell Chief Webber that *all* of you have the flu? And I’m supposed to do that because there is a ghost on the porch and you can all see it but I can’t?"

No one moved a muscle, much less answered.

George nodded. "Which one of you is cooking the meth because all of you obviously took it?"

"Just ... do it, Bambi," Cristina snapped. "And after you pick up clean clothes ... stop and bring us lots and lots of alcohol because we’re gonna need it."

"And you’ll be staying in this house for three days?" George looked at Burke. "You are supposed to be my Yoda ... and you believe this mess?"

Burke nodded. "I do."

"Izzie?" George pleaded. "Tell me you don’t."

"I’m two seconds away from drinking the cooking sherry, George. Bring tequila," she replied. "And Bibles. Can you bring Bibles?"

"This is unreal." George grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. "You’re *doctors*. You’re *DOCTORS*."

"Bring chocolate, too," Meredith urged. "Lots of it. And ... don’t tell *anyone* the truth."

"Don’t tell anyone that you’ve all lost your minds and this is a loony bin?" George headed for the door. "Don’t worry. They’d commit me for trying to help."


Izzie watched him go and fingered the silver chain around her neck. "I’m not being the fifth wheel. I am *not* sleeping alone."

No one said anything for a moment.

"Iz?" Meredith said quietly. "If you cook something for dinner, you can sleep with us."

"Someone’s coming to the kitchen with me," she said, getting to her feet. "I’ll cook, but I’m not getting terrorized alone. If I see that thing through the window ... I’ll die."

"I’ll help you." Burke stood and led the way.

"God," Cristina flopped back against the cushions. "Three days stuck in the house with ‘Feel My Pain Stevens’. None of us can possibly be suffering as she is suffering."

"Just breathe." Meredith patted her on the arm. "When Callie gets back ... she’ll get rid of it."

"When did Callie become ‘The Ghost Whisper’? I prefer ‘Top Gun Callie’." Cristina pushed herself upright and stretched. "I hate my life."

*~*~*~*~*~

The three days leading up to Xeno’s funeral were wrought with emotion for everyone involved. Melana broke down every time one of her surviving brothers arrived. Demi was the only one who knew the truth about what had happened with Xeno, everyone else, even the authorities, believed that Xeno had been injured while he was trying to kill himself. The story had been Callie’s idea and it covered up her father’s involvement, painting him as the hero who was wounded by Xeno’s knife as he wrestled it away from the man. The coffin was open per Athena’s orders and she seemed to take the story of her husband’s suicide with a grain of salt. Callie caught her shooting malicious glares at Raphael several times, however.

On the third day, at noon, Xeno was laid to rest at the family graveyard. It overlooked the water and afforded a beautiful view of Talking Rock. Callie was the only one who didn’t cry. She stared, unblinking, at the coffin as it was lowered into the ground. She refrained from throwing a flower into the hole or tossing a handful of dirt onto the casket. She simply stood, stock still, watching the assembled crowd for any further signs of malicious intent. Nicky Niarchos stood with his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets and when he felt her eyes on him, he scowled and looked away. She knew that he had probably orchestrated the attempt on her father’s life, but she could not prove that without the information on the phones.

"Callie?" Alex said softly. "It’s over."

"What?" she asked.

"The ceremony," he replied, pointing at the workmen who had picked up shovels, but were waiting for the crowd to disperse.

She let him lead her down the sloping yard and through the orchard. In the dining room, she poured herself a glass of lemonade and sat beside Cambyses, who was solemn. Alex brought her a plate of food, but she let it rest on her lap until the mourners finally left the family alone, then she stood and tossed it into the trash can. "I’ll be back," she said to Alex. "I need some air."

She half ran, half jogged back to the cemetery, where she leaned against her grandfather’s headstone as she watched the workers pile the flower arrangements on top of the fresh dirt. When they were finished, they walked past her and she expressed her gratitude for a job well done in Greek before she walked to her Uncle’s final resting place and kneeled down. "I’m sorry," she whispered, touching a spray of roses. "I know you loved us and I hope you know that we loved you, too. Even now, Zee, I love you and I’ll miss you."

"You would lie to a dead man?"

Callie turned and glared at Nicky. "The funeral’s over, Aniketos. Get off my family’s property."

"I don’t think he’d want this to be his final resting place."

"You shouldn’t think."

"He loved my family, Callie. He was loyal to *my* family."

"There’s a fool born everyday." She pushed herself upright and glared at him. "I’m very loyal to *my* family and Xeno was *my* family no matter how much he misplaced his loyalty."

"You should not speak of loyalty, my love."

"Shut up, Nicky."

"You promised to marry me. You promised to help me rectify our family differences and join the two in ways that Xeno and Athena could not." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps our night together meant more to me than you."

"There is no perhaps. It clearly did." She tilted her head to one side. "Surely you knew that I used you."

"Would you like to use me again?"

"It wasn’t that memorable for me. I’ll pass."

He chuckled. "Your fire is what I like the most about you."

She regarded him with a stoic expression on her face. "Do you expect me to tell you what I like about you? Because nothing comes to mind."

"Perhaps you will like my brutal honesty," Nicky told her. "Your Uncle Xeno wasn’t wrong to offer his allegiance to the Niarchos family. He knew your father’s secrets. Believe me when I tell you that Raphael Torres is not the man you think he is. I cannot fault you for loving him because we often love things that are destructive, but I assure you that I have proof of his misdeeds and I think you would benefit from knowing."

"If you wrote a book that had everything you *think* inside it ... it would be an epic tome with blank pages."

Nicky looked behind her and nodded. "You know how to reach me if you decide to learn the truth. Good bye, Callie."

She watched him hurry across the lawn and hop into a waiting helicopter. The blades began to turn, causing her hair to lift and her skirt to billow around her legs. Covering her eyes, she watched as it lifted and headed into the clouds then she turned back to her uncle’s grave, righting the flowers that had been blown about by the wind.

"Who was that?" Alex asked, startling her. She had not heard his approach over the thumping of the helicopter.

"Nicky Niarchos." Callie gathered the last of the flowers and got to her feet, rubbing her hands together to wipe away the dirt. "Did my mother say what time we were leaving?"

"In about an hour."

"I can’t wait to get home." She turned and looked at Talking Rock in the distance. "I wish we were there already."

"I don’t. Whatever’s going on with Derek and this restless spirit thing ... I think I’d rather deal with the island."

"It won’t be that bad."

He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Can I do anything?"

Turning, she nodded up at him. "You can promise me that no matter what you see me do in Seattle ... you won’t leave me."

"Baby, I’m not going anywhere."

"You promise?"

"I promised when I said ‘I do’." He grinned at her. "Besides, you just said it won’t be that bad."

She let him hug her and she clung to him, not bothering to remind him that their respective definitions of ‘bad’ were two very different things.

*~*~*~

Callie was stunned when Eros boarded the plane behind Blake. She had assumed that he was tagging along for the ride to the airstrip to help with their luggage, but the bag he carried was tattered and worn out. He caught her looking and smiled at her, causing Alex to stir restlessly in his seat. Flopping down in front of them, Eros said, "I’ve never been to the United States. It took a while to get my paperwork in order. Your father pulled some strings."

"He thinks I’ll need you, doesn’t he?" Callie asked. "He doesn’t think I can do it on my own."

"You’ll need an anchor," Eros replied, glancing at the necklace that Alex wore, at the anchor pendant and the mermaid. "One whose heart isn’t involved quite so much."

Alex narrowed his eyes. "Eros was involved with FMC, too?"

"Very deeply and quite by accident," Eros explained. "I followed her into the fire, so to speak, and never once looked back."

Cambyses leaned across the aisle. "Am I hearing this correctly? Eros, the same Eros who was terrified of the dark, got to be a part of FMC, but I didn’t?"

"Your green eyed monster isn’t very cute, sweety," Blake said, patting Cam on the arm. He leaned forward and winked at Callie. "Eros, I’m pretty sore from all the tension. Do you think you could give me a massage later?"

"Certainly," Eros replied, hiding his smile when Cambyses’s eyes widened.

"My green eyed monster is about to be a homicidal monster, Blake!" Cam snapped. "Don’t tempt me!"

"Perhaps I’ll go and sit with Melana," Eros commented, lifting his bag again. "She could certainly use a massage."

Alex waited until the other man had taken a seat in the back of the plane. "What did he mean? About being your anchor?"

"We’ll need thirteen people for the ritual." Callie took a deep breath, aware that her brother was hanging on her every word. "Whoever acts as my anchor has to stay in one spot and not step out of the circle. You’re too emotionally invested to do that. And if you break the circle ... I’ll die."

"Die?" Alex waited patiently for her to laugh, for her to deliver the punch line. "Literally die?"

"Literally. As in, stick me in a coffin and let me push up daisies. That kind of dead."

"How can it kill you?" Blake asked, leaning across Cam to hang on her every word. "Raphael said it was relatively safe and now you’re talking about dying."

"I don’t want you to do it," Alex told her. "I mean it. Let someone else take care of it."

Callie took his hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly as the plane took off. "I’m all there is and once you see what this thing is capable of ... you’ll be begging me to take care of it."

"I’m going to be the one who helps you, Callie. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, but I’m not trusting *anyone* to keep you safe. I’ll do it or you won’t be doing it." Alex gave her a look that forced her to nod.

"Okay."

"Okay."

*~*~

"You’re just gonna ignore that?"

Cristina nodded at Izzie, sipping her coffee as she worked on a cross word puzzle. "I am actively ignoring the ghostly voyeur."

"Why is he hanging upside down?" Izzie asked, gazing at Randall, who appeared to be floating outside the window, his hair standing on end as he peered, upside down, through the window.

"Because it’s creepier?" Cristina glanced at the window and made a face. "They’re coming home today, right?"

"They’re supposed to land in about two hours." Izzie went to the sink, running water into a pan. Randall licked the window and she flipped him a bird, causing him to smash his head against the glass repeatedly. Sticking her hand into what remained of the Holy Water, she drew another cross on the window and watched him vanish. "You could have used the water."

"If I had put my hand in there ... I would have caught fire," Cristina assured her. "I’m not the most religious person alive."

"How did this happen?" Izzie put the water on the stove, turning it on. "I keep thinking that we should wake up from this nightmare, but ... it’s really real, isn’t it?"

"Don’t ask me," Cristina shook her head. "I still maintain that my hamburger the other day was made out of opiates and this entire thing is one big hallucination."

The phone rang, causing both women to jump. Izzie grabbed it and said, "Hello?"

"It’s me," George said. "Webber wanted me to call you guys and see if you’re feeling better. He’s talking about making a house call."

"Tell him we’re fine, but contagious." Izzie looked back at the window in time to see McFry move past it, gazing in at her like a demon. "George?"

"What?"

"Light a candle for us at the chapel, okay?"

"Okay."

"And call us later."

She hung up and sat down beside Cristina at the island. Looking at the crossword puzzle, she offered a few suggestions and listened as Meredith, Burke, and Derek began to laugh in the other room. The fact that anyone could laugh at all was horrible and proof that they were all going crazy as far as Izzie was concerned. Checking her watch again, she made herself a cup of tea and walked into the living room. Picking up Derek’s laptop, she went back to researching the paranormal and hoped that the banishing spell she had just read about was not something she would be partaking in later that night.

A cat screeched on the front porch and she looked at Meredith. "On the plus side," she said softly, "it’s not a rain of toads, plague of locusts, or Armageddon."

"Are you reading about the Bible?" Meredith asked.

"I was reading Buffy fanfiction."

"Spike or Angel?" Derek smiled at the blond.

"Spike, definitely," Izzie and Meredith replied together.

Izzie chuckled and closed the story she had been reading, leaving the Google results for hauntings on the screen. "You know what? When I was sitting in medical school listening to Science ... I never dreamed that I’d be held hostage by an evil spirit one day."

"Let’s make a deal," Meredith suggested. "When all this over and everything’s said and done ... we will *never* speak of it again. Ever."

They all nodded their agreement.

Nearly two and a half hours later, someone knocked at the front door and everyone froze. Izzie had warned them that Webber wanted to make a house call, but no one actually believed he would. Derek finally walked into the foyer and breathed an audible sigh of relief when he saw Raphael on the other side of the door. Wrenching it open, he shook the man’s hand, pulling him inside.

"Derek," Raphael said, one hand on his aching stomach. The flight had not been good to the knife wound he’d received. "This is Eros, he will be helping me ready you all for the transport."

"Transport?" Meredith asked, joining them. She drew up short when she saw the tall, handsome man standing there. "Oh, hi. I’m Meredith."

In the living room, introductions were made all around. Eros shook hands with everyone, but he kissed Izzie’s hand, his eyes never leaving hers. She blushed prettily and smiled up at him. Raphael explained that Eros had prepared a special protection pouch for each of them and quickly handed them out, watching as they all tied them around their necks. "What happens now?" Derek asked.

"Calliope and the others are on your property, Derek. Where your trailer is."

"Why there?" Derek asked. "I thought you would all come here?"

"You’ll understand once you see it," Eros assured him. "If we had done it here ... with all these neighbors ... well, it wouldn’t be pretty."

"Are you sure we should do it tonight?" Burke asked. "All of you must be exhausted from the trip and -"

"It’s the final night of the full moon," Raphael replied. "We do it tonight or you’re stuck for a month. And by then, McFry will be too strong for us to handle."

"Tonight is good," Burke replied. "Very, very good."

"Listen to me closely." Taking a step back, Raphael looked at each of his charges. "What you witness tonight will defy logic, startle you, terrify you, and make no sense. For your sake ... never speak of it again. Never tell another living soul what you experience because the paranormal is not well respected and people who believe it are usually dubbed insane. We’re in this together, folks, and together we’ll beat it. Callie will brief you when we arrive."

"Wait." Cristina held up her hand. "What’s stopping McFry from getting in the car with us or -"

"Me," Eros replied, opening his shirt. There were weird symbols drawn all over his body in what appeared to be blood. "I’m the ward."

"We’ll explain it all in the car," Raphael said, when everyone opened their mouth to speak at once. "We have a time frame to hit. Let’s go. All of you, hang onto someone and run, do not walk, to the limo."

No one had to be told twice.

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 14
*~*~*~*~*~

"Are you going to explain all of this?" Melana demanded, watching as Callie began to fill a large copper tub with water.

"When everyone gets here," Callie replied, taking a vial from her purse and pouring it into the water.

"What is that?" Snatching the bottle, Mel held it up to the light. "Tell me this isn’t from the spring, Calliope!"

"It’s Holy Oil. Pour it in, Mom."

Mel poured a little of the oil on her fingertips and rubbed them together, nodding. "Why do you need this?"

"I think we’ll need all the help we can get." Callie pushed herself to her feet and gazed down at the water. "It’s gonna be okay."

"You’ve done this before?" Complying with her daughter’s request, Melana tipped the oil into the water and handed it back to her. "Because you’ve got a look on your face that I’ve never seen before so I need you to tell me that you’re okay, that you want to do this, because if you can’t do that ... then this stops now."

"I want to do this," Callie assured her, hoping that she sounded more convincing than she felt. "And that look you see on my face is the comprehension that all my secrets are out in the open and I’m stunned that you’re all still here despite that."

Taking her hand, Melana hugged her. "You could never do anything ... anything ... to make me love you any less. To make any of us love you any less."

Callie squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in the familiar Jasmine scent that her mother preferred. It took her back to being a little girl, clinging to her mother because a skinned knee had destroyed an otherwise perfect day. Mel’s arms always had a way of giving Callie whatever she needed in that moment and as she clung to her, soaking up the courage that the warm embrace gave her. Mel pulled away first, kissing her cheek as she went. "Mom ... I’m glad you’re here."

"I wish I knew what I was here for." Smiling a little, Mel shrugged her shoulders. "It was never easy for me to watch you be a daddy’s girl. I wanted you to be mine. I hate that you shared this other life with him ... I hate that the two of you had something that I wasn’t a part of and that you lied to me for years so ... if I can be here now ... there’s nowhere I’d rather be."

"The only place we ever wanted to be ... was with you." Callie bit her bottom lip. "He didn’t lie to you out of spite or to hurt you ... he lied to you because we didn’t know what the truth was. We still don’t know what the truth is and some things are just easier not explaining."

"I’m certain your father is quite pleased with himself for taking the easy way out. I, on the hand, am devastated that he chose to isolate me from what was apparently a large part of his life, of *your* life." Melana crossed her arms over her chest. "This is the ultimate betrayal, honey, and I don’t know what feels worse. Knowing that he lied to me or that he kept his mistress."

"Mistress?" Callie’s mouth dropped open in shock. "Mom, there were *never* other women."

"That island was his mistress. It cheated me out of so much time with him. With you. If we added the months that I thought you were running away ... it would be *years*. He cheated on me as surely as George cheated on you. The only difference was that there was no carnal pleasure ... there were only the secrets and lies. And maybe the pleasure of knowing that I trusted him enough to bring you home safely each and every time you vanished."

Seeing the tears in her mother’s eyes drove home the point that her parent’s marriage was in turmoil. Callie felt a lump in her own throat that she had to struggle to swallow. "Why did you lie to us about getting pregnant with Stavros before you got married?"

Mel gasped, her hand going to her throat. "Your Uncle Xeno was wrong about that."

"No, he wasn’t. You were sixteen and you fell in love with a great guy who caught you when you fell out of a trees and stole fruit from the orchard and showed you how to live. He taught you how to breathe easy and how to feel safe and he’s still that man, Mom. He’s still that funny, loving guy who carried Xeno into the spring and hid in the secret passage until everybody was asleep at night so that you could fall asleep in his arms." Callie’s nostrils flared slightly. "Most people spend their entire lives waiting for a love like that to find them. I wish that I could have found Alex that young and not had eleven other people in my past. I’m just starting out with him and I’m in my *thirties*. I won’t have as much time with him as you had with my dad so go ahead and be pissed that you missed out on a couple of years, but don’t forget that you’ve already had more time with a man who adores you than the rest of us can hope for."

"You should have become a lawyer. Or a politician." Melana waved her hand dismissively and headed across the yard toward Cambyses.

Callie shook her head, leaving the water hose in the tub as she turned her attention to the multitude of candles, salt, and herbs that had been heaped in an unceremonious pile in front of Derek’s trailer. It amazed her what money could do. Her father had made one phone call from Greece, not long after they had learned of the manifestation, and everything they needed was already firmly in place when they landed. Using the light from Derek’s trailer, Callie separated the herbs into the piles she would need, then set about aligning the candles into the proper shape, using the stars and moon as her guide.

Alex stood off to the side, next to Addison and Mark. He had watched the exchange between Callie and her mother with a bundle of nerves in his stomach. He ached to go and talk to his wife, but she seemed to be a million miles from him, totally lost in her own world. "I feel like an extra in a horror movie."

Addison pulled her coat a little tighter around her shoulders, shivering. "On the plus side ... it’s not raining."

"She’s making a pentagram." Mark pointed at the unlit candles that Callie was arranging, shaking his head. "Isn’t that evil?"

"No," Alex replied. "Remember? In the video she said it wasn’t Devilish or ... whatever."

"I don’t like it." Mark glanced around at the yard. "We’re in the middle of nowhere, with a pentagram, a cauldron, a copper bathtub, and our host used to dress like Elvira and levitate at Stonehenge. And that’s not Devilish? Blake had the right idea. We should all go to the Archfield and stay."

"Blake didn’t have a choice. Callie said that we only needed thirteen people," Addison reminded him. "Besides, he’s hurt."

"I’ll gladly break my foot. And yours," Mark assured her. "To get us out of this mess."

"I trust her," Addison said, glaring at her husband. "And you should, too."

Mark watched her stalk to where Callie was working and pick up several candles, setting them out as Callie instructed. "Alex, has Callie told you what to expect?"

"No." With a shake of his head, Alex put his hands in his pockets. "She just made me promise that I wouldn’t leave her ... no matter what she does."

Mark groaned. "That is so reassuring!"

"I know, right?" Alex watched as Melana and Cambyses began stacking logs under the cauldron. Even from across the expanse of the yard, they could hear Melana’s displeasure over the entire situation. "Mel’s pissed."

"Can you blame her?" Mark shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his legs aching from the long flight. "What I don’t understand ... is why are they using *us* for this thing? Why don’t they call in people who have done it before?"

"I mentioned that to Callie. She said that they didn’t have time to plan it and get the right people for it. She said that she’s the only one who has to do anything and we all just have to stand there." Alex kept his eye on his wife as she poured a perfect salt circle ten feet from the top point on the pentagram. "I hate this."

"Well, yeah," Mark agreed. "It’s completely fucked up. I thought my therapy days were over when I left New York."

Headlights flashed on the long, dirt driveway and Mark straightened, feeling apprehensive. The limo that Raphael and Eros had taken from the airport pulled to a stop and the back doors opened without the driver’s help. Meredith, Cristina, and Izzie bounded out first, rushing to the middle of the yard to greet Callie and Addison. A moment later, Burke and Derek joined Alex and Mark, who asked a million questions about the entity that they had seen.

Raphael walked across the yard, not stopping to speak with anyone, and put his hand in the copper tub, blessing the water inside. Next, he kneeled beside the cauldron and spoke Latin in a soft, whispering voice. Last, he gathered one of the many boxes of salt and made two large circles around the entire circumference of the yard, closing the pentagram inside. All the conversation died as everyone watched the preparations. When the last of the salt had been used, Raphael cleared his throat and beckoned everyone forward.

"Derek, if you will please step into the pentagram and have a seat in the middle." Raphael indicated the star behind him, waiting as Derek did as instructed. "I’d like to explain what you’re looking at. This, as you just heard, is a pentagram. There are negative connotations associated with it, but I assure you, the purpose for which we will be utilizing it tonight is anything but negative. Each of the star’s five tips," he indicated the point at his feet, "signifies a different element that Callie will call upon tonight." He walked to the salt circle that Callie had poured. "Roughly ten feet from each point of the star you will see these small circles. This is where the anchor will stand. That means that five of you will be on the point, five of you will be in these salt circles and this," he indicated the double salt lines behind him. "This is where the remaining two will walk counter clockwise ... and pray."

"Who stands where?" Addison asked. "How do you decide that?"

"Only women can stand on the points of the circle," Raphael explained, then smiled at Derek. "You’re inside it because you’re the one who has been targeted and therefore you’ll need the additional protection."

"What can we expect?" Burke queried, asking what was on everyone’s mind.

"Right now, there is a hedge of protection over this property which means that McFry cannot enter until he is called." Raphael’s gaze fell on each person, taking a moment to look them in the eye. "When he *is* summoned, he will be angry, hostile, and belligerent. He will say and do things that will shock and terrify you, but he cannot touch you as long as you remain rooted to your spot. And this is where I need for you to hear me, people." He stopped talking, making sure he still had their attention. "The five women in this circle are the most vulnerable because they are the channel through which the elements are invoked. The only thing that will bind them to this earth during the ritual ... are their anchors. If you are an anchor and you step off your circle, even for a moment ... I can’t guarantee that we can undo the damage that will cause."

"Damage?" Cam asked, his eyes wide.

"He means death," Callie said, coming to stand beside her father. "If you step off your circle, the person you’re responsible for is as good as dead. They’ll be consumed by their element. So, don’t do it. You’re going to feel the urge to run, to jump into the fight, to curl up on the ground and cry ... but don’t do it. Stand still, be strong, and don’t you fucking move because I don’t want *anyone* to die tonight."

"Is there any other way to do this?" Izzie swallowed hard, rubbing her sweaty palms on her jeans.

"No. And if any of you want to back out then you should do it now because once this gets started ... there’s no turning back." Callie gave everyone ample time to balk, but no one did. Bending down, she retrieved a jar full of water. "Meredith, come here."

Meredith stepped forward and accepted the jar that Callie held out. "What do I do?"

"You’re water because you conquered it." Callie led her to the furthest point of the star. "Stand here and when I invoke water, you lift that jar over your head and hang onto it for dear life. Okay?"

Meredith nodded and Callie retrieved another jar, this one full of mud and grass. "Izzie?"

The blond stepped forward, clutching her jar with both hands. "I’m dirt?"

Callie chuckled. "That’s too easy. I’m not touching that one. You’re earth, because part of you is buried with Denny and ... that makes you strong. Stand right here. Cristina?"

Walking forward, Cristina took her empty jar and raised an eyebrow. "I’m nothing?"

"You’re air." Callie smiled at her. "Because you’re full of hot air."

"Gee, thanks." Cristina made a face. "Seriously?"

"You’re air because you once called me a tornado so I think you can make a damn fine one." Callie patted her on the back. "Stand beside Meredith. Addison?"

"Oh god," Addy groaned, stepping forward.

Callie retrieved the final jar. Inside it was a small, blue flame. "You’re fire."

Addison took it, holding it up toward the light, her brow wrinkling. "What’s it burning?"

"It’s not." Callie tapped the glass with her fingernail. "It’s an eternal flame. It burns because you ask it to. And that’s why you’re fire, Addy, because you’re where I need you to be, when I need you to be. Stand right here."

"What are you? Your element, I mean?" Addison asked, her eyes brimming with tears at Callie’s words.

Callie retrieved a tube just like the one she had shown them in the headquarters of FMC at Bounty’s Keep. "Don’t you know a spirit stick when you see one? Spirit fingers!"

"Ha ha," Cambyses said dryly, his hands on his hip. "What about the rest of us."

Raphael stepped forward and collected the five protection pouches that Eros had put together. Kneeling down, he added several herbs to each, then gave them to each of the five women. "Put something of yourself inside," he instructed.

"Ourself?" Izzie asked.

"A ring or a necklace or ... hair." Callie slipped her weddings ring off and laid them in her pouch, tying it tightly.

"Eros," Raphael said, "take Callie’s pouch and act as her anchor."


Not missing a beat, Eros stepped forward to collect it, but Alex shook his head. "I’ll do it."

"Absolutely not," snapped Raphael. "Eros has done it before and -"

"I’m doing it," Alex growled, taking the pouch from Callie’s hand. "I’ll do whatever you say, but I’m the one who is going to keep her safe. I’m not trusting *anyone* else to do it."


Raphael put his hands on his hips. "Alex, do you understand that you will kill her if your temper gets the better of you and you forget what you’re supposed to be doing?"

"I will not forget!" Alex shouted. "How can you even suggest that -"

"Dad, it’s okay." Callie gave her father’s hand a reassuring squeeze and he looked at her. He was the only one who saw the nod and the wink that she gave him. Turning to Alex, she led him to his circle and smiled at him. "Okay, Jock Strap, you heard the rules. Don’t you dare mess up."

"You can trust me," he promised. "I’d die for you."

"It won’t come to that." Leaning forward, she kissed him. "I love you. So much."

"I love you, too." He touched her cheek, then traced the contour of her jaw. "You’re gonna be fine. Right?"

"Absolutely."

Pressing her palm to his forehead, she spoke an incantation in Latin that sounded mesmerizing and sweet as far as Alex was concerned. It was so intoxicating to hear her say the words, feel her skin against his face, that he didn’t notice that she only said it to him. He didn’t realize that he was the only person who had received such ‘special’ treatment. When Callie returned to the others, she found that Cambyses had volunteered to act as Meredith’s anchor. Eros stood in for Izzie while Burke and Mark covered Cristina and Addison respectively. That left Raphael and Melana to patrol the outer circle in prayer.

"By the way, don’t engage this thing. Don’t talk to it, don’t make eye contact, and don’t try to touch it. It feeds off your energy so don’t give it any. Don’t scream, don’t yell, don’t make a sound," Callie said, bending down to retrieve the athame that she had left beside her point on the star. "Is everybody okay? Are there any questions?"

Burke lifted his hand. "How long will this take?"

"The longest one I ever witnessed was forty five minutes," Callie told him. "But you never know. I’m not wasting any time on this thing. I want it over and done. Anything else?"

"When you call out our ... elements ... we lift them up over our head, right?" Addison asked, her eyes reflecting the fire in her jar. "Every time you do it?"

"Well, I’ll technically only invoke you once, but I’ll call to the elements as well, so any time you hear it ... go ahead and raise them up so that you don’t forget and miss it when I need you to." Callie looked at her friends. "I can’t prepare you for this. I just - I can’t. There are no words to do it and ... you wouldn’t believe me if I tried. I’m really sorry that you have to be here at all and ..."

"It’s not your fault," Meredith said. "You didn’t bring him back."

"She’s right," Izzie agreed. "You don’t have to apologize."

"Let’s send this bastard back to Hell." Addison nodded.

"Shit," Mark said, rolling his eyes, "the Angry Woman Club rides again. Can we get on with it!?"

"Callie, can I have a word?" Raphael motioned for her to join him, then he led her out of everyone’s earshot. "Did you utilize the entrapment -"

"Yes," she cut him off.

"Alex will not be pleased if he learns of this."

"Yeah, well, he won’t move now ... will he?" Callie glanced back at the others. "We should get this over with."

Raphael reached down and took her hand. "You’re shaking."

Callie bit back her tears. "I’m about to come face to face with the man who tried to rape me. I will have to look him in the eye and not let him get to me. I’m terrified, Dad. I’m so scared that my heart is going to beat out of my chest the moment he gets here that I don’t know what to do."

Hugging her, Raph spoke softly. "Baby, I was wrong to tell you that fear makes you weak. It doesn’t. You should be scared, but this is where I remind you that I’ve got your back. I will always have your back and nothing in this world is going to hurt you as long as I’m here. You can do this, Callie. You can do it because you *have* to do it and because beating him ... will erase every trace of what he did to you."

Callie hugged him, then stepped away and brushed the tears off her face. "Thanks, Daddy."

"You once painted a Martin Luther King, Jr. quote on your wall. My favorite quote of his is ‘we must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear’. Look around you, Mija, these are your dikes of courage."

Callie wrinkled her nose. "I don’t think my homegirls want to be called dykes."

"Did I not hear that you had kissed Addison?" Raphael’s eyes twinkled when Callie’s smile faded. Throwing his head back, he laughed. "You are a constant source of amusement for me."

"And you’re a constant source of ass pain, Dad." She grinned and stood a little straighter. "Let’s do the damn thing. I can’t wait to sleep in my own freakin’ bed tonight."

Raphael took his place and began to pray, holding up a hand to Melana to indicate that she should do the same on the opposite end. Callie returned to her point and lifted the knife into the air, whispering a jumble of words that constituted the summoning spell. She called Randall McFry to their location, closing her eyes to imagine the howling wind that would blow him into their midst. She could see it clearly, lifting the tattered soul that remained, and sending it, end over end, to the location she kept muttering through the Latin. When she opened her eyes again, the jar that Cristina held was glowing bright green and every eye was pinned to it. There was a tearing sound in the distance, behind Melana, who had stopped walking and stood transfixed as a blazing white light appeared, seemingly ripped into the protective circle.

And then ... McFry tumbled out of it, his smoky body blown to and fro on the gust of wind Callie had imagined. It lifted Callie’s hair, whipping around her ... only her ... and she swallowed hard when she heard the same familiar chuckle that she had heard in the church when McFry attacked her. Bending down, she buried the knife to the hilt right in front of Derek and rubbed her hands together, warming them.

"Hooo boy!" McFry cried, making a whistling sound. "The gang’s all here!"

Cambyses stiffened when McFry appeared in front of him, his eyes level with his own. Wordlessly, Cam squeezed the pouch in his hand and looked away, ignoring the entity entirely as Callie had instructed. "Awww," Randall continued, moving so close that Cambyses was chilled to the bone. "You don’t want to talk to the man you killed? You don’t want to see the wound? How about if I let you feel it?"

Behind them, Callie began to call on the elements. Randall only had eyes for Cambyses. "What was it like, homo, to stick that blade in my chest?"

"Really damn nice," Cam growled, meeting his eyes for the first time. "I’d do it again in a heartbeat ... no pun intended."

"Stop talking!" Raphael shouted. "Cambyses, look away!"

Randall honed in on Raphael, moving toward him. When he heard the powerful prayers that were coming from the man, however, he backed away and turned his focus on Burke, who was worrying the pouch in his hands. "Ooooh," Randall sneered. "The token black man. You didn’t even try to save me that day, did you? You saved the pretty boys. How’s your hand, Presssston. Whole lotta shakin’ going on!"

Preston didn’t acknowledge that he had been addressed. Randall moved past him, spotting Izzie, who was looking at him with abject horror. "The little blond killer. You and me, we have something in common, sweetness. I can smell his blood on your hands. Denny, Denny, Denny."

"Ignore it," Cristina said to Izzie, who had begun to cry.

"Ignore it," Randall mimicked. "Why are you here, Yang, you don’t believe in God. I bet I could make you believe in me. I got me a thing for dark haired women. Women with slanty eyes, Mexican women, even black bitches because they’re always in heat. Like Pressston’s mother. You don’t like her, do you?"

Callie’s voice rang out suddenly, no longer in Latin. "Hey, McFry, remember me?"

The spirit whirled and floated toward her. "How could I forget? Soft, supple, a real firecracker in the sack."

"Death hasn’t improved your concept of reality," she replied, baiting him, trying to lure him closer. "What made you think that a piece of shit convict like yourself ... could ever have a chance with me?"

"Ahh!" Randall screamed loud enough to hurt everyone’s eardrums. It seemed to reverberate through the protective circle, bouncing off invisible walls. "You fucking bitch! You whore!"

"Is that the best you got?" Callie goaded. "You gonna cry? You’re the only bitch I see."

He moved a little closer, sneering. "I’m gonna gut you. I’m gonna see what your heart looks like in my hand."

"It would probably be the biggest handful *you* have ever held, pencil dick." Callie smirked when he screamed again. "Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly. Come a little closer ..."

"And I will make you die," he finished, lunging at her.

She was ready for him. Callie plunged her hand right into his chest, where his own heart should have been. It entered with a grotesque sucking sound and she made a face as she looked him in the eye. "I call on the power of water to wash you of your malice. Water will bind you from the harm you wish to cause."

A soothing blue light emanated behind her and Callie knew that Meredith’s jar was glowing. A moment later, warm water washed over Callie, soaking her skin, and rolled from her like a wave over Randall, who coughed and sputtered even though he did not require breath. He appeared to float in a bubble for a moment and then it burst, showering everyone with warm spray.

Randall began to flail again, to try to pull free, but the link Callie had with him was too strong. Blood began to drip from her nose as she spoke again. "I call on the power of earth to bind you to one spot. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust."

"No!" Randall gnashed at her, trying to bite, trying to rip at her flesh, but it was no use. The yellow light from Izzie’s jar washed over him and large, reddish colored vines sprang from the ground, winding around his body to prevent him from striking at her again. "You fucking cunt!"

Callie’s wrists had begun to bleed now. She was dizzy and slightly disoriented, but she plowed ahead. "I call to the power of fire." Every candle that made up the pentagram blazed to life and the assorted candles that had been placed around the yard flamed as well. "To burn you from this plane and remind you of the pits of Hell."

A roaring blaze began at Callie’s feet. She felt blood from her head slowly trickling toward her eyes, but she could not lift her hand away from him or risk dropping the tube that was in her free hand, which was slick with blood as well. The wounds she received were a classic Stigmata, coinciding with the location of the marks Jesus bore on crucifixion day. She gritted her teeth when she felt her ankles split open, imagining that the pain was just as severe as well. She fumbled over the next words as the fire moved to her waist and licked at her face. She could hear everyone crying out, could hear her father shouting for no one to move, and she closed her eyes, willing the fire to move through her and into Randall.

She felt it when it happened, when it passed into his soul and out of hers. Opening her eyes again, she had trouble seeing him through the smoke and flames. "I call to the power of the wind to return you to the place from which you came. Terra , aer , unda , incendia , quod phasmatis. EGO to order vos ut reverto ut Abyssus. Terra , aer , unda , incendia , quod phasmatis. EGO to order vos dimitto is plagiarius quod reverto haud magis."

They heard the funnel cloud before they saw it. It burst down from the protective canopy that Callie had forged while Raphael had gone to pick up the others. It started out thin, but grew in leaps and bounds, eventually encompassing both Callie and Randall in its spinning fury. It drowned out the astonished screams that went up, but not the booming voice of Raphael, whose prayers to the Heavens seems to be broadcast from a loudspeaker.

Callie felt her feet lift off the ground a moment later and shook her head, fighting it. She felt her the stab wound Christ had received gnash into her side. "No! Stop! Stop reacting!" she shouted. "Daddy, make them stop!"

"Silence!" bellowed Raphael. "No one make a sound!"

Through the fire and wind, Callie could see Randall’s eyes boring into her. They were full of rage, full of hatred and she feared that his black emotions were much stronger than what she had called forward. She heard her father yell for Alex to stay still and she squeezed her eyes shut, conjuring an image of Alex in her mind. She pictured him as plain as day on Goon Docks, reclining in the sun with his hands behind his head. Then she saw him at Disneyland, leaning in to kiss her under the fireworks. She saw his face reflected in the street lights the night he proposed in his car and she felt his hands sliding over her body, pushing away all doubt.

"Come with me," Randall growled, sounding half man, half animal. "You wanna burn, too. I can feel it. You tried to kill yourself, girlie, didn’t you? Do it again. Do it again and come with me."

"I didn’t like you in life, mother fucker, what makes you think I’d like you in death?" She poured everything she had into moving the funnel to him and just like that ... it went. She dropped back to the ground and scrambled to her feet, twisting the lid on the tube. "Earth, air, fire, water, and spirit ... I command thee ... take this soul, drain his essence, and let him be free NO MORE."

The power of the funnel rushing into the tube knocked all five women to the ground. Addison wound up on top of Derek and Callie flipped backward, coming to a stop beside Alex, who reached down and dragged her upright. "You’re bleeding," he said, trying to touch her everywhere at once. "You’re hurt!"

"It’s fine," she assured him, twisting the tube again to ensure that the lock was in place. She had just enough time to hand it off to her father before Eros scooped her up and half jogged to the copper tub, submerging her in the cold water. It was a shock to her system and she came up fast, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Jesus, that’s cold."

"I can’t move!" Alex cried suddenly. "I ... my legs won’t move!"

"Callie!" Raphael called. "Lift it."

"Oh, shit," Callie grumbled, muttering the incantation that would release all the bindings she had utilized. Exhausted, she flopped back in the water and put her hands to her forehead, feeling the gashes there. It was as if a perfect crown of thorns had been placed on her head. Examining her wrists, she saw that the wounds there were pronounced and deep. When Eros pulled her upright and tugged her shirt over her head, she groaned. The lashes on her back felt like they had grown into the cloth and she cried out as it cleared her head.

"Oh my god," Alex said, kneeling down beside the tub. He pushed her hair over her shoulder and gazed at the cuts on her back. "How did this ..."

"The marks of Christ," Eros said. "If she’s going to act in Christ’s stead ... she must wear the same pain that he wore."

Alex watched as the other man reached down and tugged her shoes off, then reached for the button her pants. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Her clothes have to go into the cauldron," Eros explained. "They’re tainted."

"I’ll do it," Alex snapped, pushing the other man aside. Meredith and Addison appeared with a sheet from Derek’s trailer and they held it up over the tub for modesty. Easing her pants down, Alex glanced up at Callie’s face. It was white and her features looked sunken as her teeth chattered. "Baby, you’re cold. Let’s get you out of the water."

"No!" Raphael cried from the other side of the sheet. "Not yet."

Melana rushed around Meredith, dropping to her knees on the other side of the tub. The water had turned red from Callie’s blood and Melana put a hand over her mouth, shaking her head when she saw her daughter fully. "You ... these are ... let me see you wrists."

Callie held her hand out and Melana cradled it with her own, then leaned down and kissed the small, round injury there. With tears in her eyes, Mel leaned forward and kissed her daughter’s forehead, then ran her hand over her back and by the time she finished, she was sobbing. "Oh, Calliope, this is horrific."

"They’ll close up as soon as we finish. I promise." Callie squeezed her hand.

"Finish?" Alex asked. "There’s more?"

"Cover yourself, Callie." Raphael cleared his throat, then stepped behind the sheet when Addison nodded at him. Squatting down beside Alex, he took a cloth from his pocket and pressed it to her head, then her back, drenching it in her blood. "You did a wonderful job, Mija. Wonderful. Your bravery amazes me and your spirit is just as strong as I’ve ever seen it."

"Don’t talk to her," Melana snapped, pointing her finger at Raphael. "You caused this! Look at her! Look! This is our child, Raphael! Our baby! You held her when she could fit in the palm of your hands and you ... you pulled her into this madness! Her blood is on you!"

Getting to his feet, Raph ignored his wife’s outburst. Carrying the cloth, he walked back around the sheet, ignoring the dirty look that Alex gave him. Callie put her head against her knees when Melana darted after him, yelling that he was a bastard, a worthless human being. Alex glanced at Addison, who was still shell shocked enough to smile at him, then leaned closer to Callie. "What’s he doing with your blood?"

"It goes in the cauldron with my clothes. In about ten minutes, it’ll be over and he’ll pour the water into the pentagram and we can go home." Her teeth chattered together, causing her jaw to hurt. "Are you okay?"

"I’ll be better when we get you warmed up."

"It won’t be long."

"That’s a really big tub," Alex replied. "Will it mess anything up if you have company?"

"What?" She shook her head. "Alex, this water is frigid and -"

"But it’ll be okay?"

"Yeah, but -"

Kicking his shoes off, he stepped into the water behind her and pulled her back against him as he settled in, wrapping his arms around her. "See? I promised you I wouldn’t leave. And just look what I have right here."

Callie watched him open the pouch and take her rings out. Saying nothing, she held up her left hand and let him slip them back in place. Alex kissed her neck, tightening his grip. "Now it’s your turn, Gothika. Promise me something."

"Okay."

"Promise me that you *never* do this again."

"That’s an easy one. I promise."

*~*~*~*~*~

The following morning, Alex woke to the smell of bacon frying and homemade biscuits baking in the oven. Callie was snuggled against his chest so he knew that Melana was the one in charge. His mother in law was obviously still agitated. Callie had told him that Melana cooked, cleaned, or broke things when she was upset. When he heard glass breaking in the kitchen, he grimaced and eased from the bed, pulling the cover back over his wife. Callie had fallen asleep in the car on the drive back home and he had carried her to the bed. Raphael had not returned with them. Melana had made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with her husband, so the man had gone to the Archfield with Cambyses and Eros.

He found Melana bathed in flour and wrinkled his nose. "Need some help?"

She simply shot him a look. Alex glanced at the counter, where every baking sheet they owned was covered in perfectly round biscuits. "Uh, Mel ... expecting an army?"

"Shut your mouth and give me the milk."

Alex did as she requested and plucked a piece of bacon from the plate, only to burn the roof of his mouth. "Ahh! Ow!"

Turning, she took a plate from the microwave and pulled the paper towel off. "Eat from this before you wake Calliope up."

Making himself a bacon biscuit, he poured a glass of juice and sipped it, soothing his burned skin. "It’s weird right? Last night we were ... I’m not sure what to call that ... but this morning we’re eating breakfast and ... it feels like we should be ... I don’t know. Be doing something else."

"What would you suggest? Bathing in chicken blood? Burning an ox?" Melana turned to the sink and washed her hands and arms to get the flour off. "I still can’t believe this is our life. That’s the second time I’ve watched my daughter nearly burn to death. And who knows how many other times that son of a bitch almost let her die."

Alex put his breakfast down when she started to cry. She looked and sounded so much like Callie that it cut him to the quick. He brushed his hands off before he put his hand on the expensive material of her robe, touching her shoulder gently. "I can finish up here if you want to go back to bed."

She turned and hugged him, shocking him when she buried her face against his shoulder. He patted her on the back, trying to find the right words to soothe her. "For what it’s worth ... Callie promised me last night that she would never do anything like that again and I believe her. So, you won’t have to worry about her. And I think Raphael is starting to really understand what he did to you by lying. I mean, one night away from Callie kills me and ... I’m sure he’s miserable this morning."

"My heart is broken, Alex." Melana sniffled. "My baby brother is dead and so help me God ... all I can think is that Raphael murdered him the same way that he murdered our marriage. The same way he could have murdered Callie last night."

"Xenos killed himself," Alex told her, stepping back to look her in the eye. "Raphael didn’t do that, Mel. And Callie chose to participate last night and ... all the times before. One other thing ... your marriage is only dead if you stop breathing into it."

"He stopped being my husband when he betrayed me!"

"When I saw Callie flying in that air show ... it knocked the wind out of me. I felt like she had taken our wedding vows and pissed them away. I couldn’t stand to look at her because I felt like she was a complete stranger. *My* Callie would have told me, would have invited me to watch, would have talked to me about it." Alex shook his head. "I was cruel to her. I made her cry and for a little while that made me feel better, but then I realized that hurting her was actually hurting me more. I don’t think that you can live without Raphael any better than I can live without Callie. And there comes a point where you have to decide if punishing someone feels better than loving them."

*~

Just beyond the archway of the kitchen, Callie brushed a tear off her cheek. She had heard most of the conversation and despite Alex’s words or wisdom, she didn’t feel like her mother was anywhere close to the point of forgiveness. Slipping her shoes on, she walked out into the front yard to look at the fence that had been installed around her property. Walking the perimeter of the yard, she had to admit that it was a gorgeous design. The house that her father had built for her looked like an old castle and the fence had the same intricate designs on it that the front steps of the house had. It looked incredible, like a beautiful fortress that felt safe, secure, and impenetrable by outside forces. Breathing deep, she turned back to the house, gazing up at the cameras that rested against the stone.

"Hey, you’re back."

Callie jumped, putting a hand over her heart as she watched Alex’s mother walk toward her. "Irene, hi! How are you?"

"Fine." Irene pointed at the fence. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

"I do." Callie smiled at her. "Thank you for making sure everything was done."

"Leon took care of it," Irene said, shrugging her slim shoulders. She was still reed thin, but her face had filled out with healthy color and she had begun growing out her hair, which had been left thin and wiry from the chemotherapy. "Did you have a nice vacation? I’m sure it was *great* to run from things."

"It was *so* not a vacation." Callie studied the woman’s face, not missing the stony undercurrent in her voice. "I’m sorry we didn’t call you sooner. I kept telling Alex that he should."

"That’s not all you told him." Irene’s eyes narrowed slightly. "What I said to you about his father ... that was between you and me."

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to blow up like it did. I begged him not to say anything."

"If you didn’t want him to say anything ... then why did you tell him?"

"What you said really hit home for me. I wanted him to know that I was nothing like his father and -"

"His father lived to cause strife between Alex and myself. And that’s what you’ve done now. I don’t appreciate it." Irene crossed her arms over her chest. "The first time I met you ... you were rude to me and I overlooked it because you really seemed to care for my son, but now I’m not so convinced. I think you’re a spoiled, hateful girl who takes people for granted and expects them to cater to you. Well, I won’t."

Callie felt like she had been slapped. "Irene, you know better than that. Alex is my life."

"I’ve spoken at length with your drinking buddy. Dr. Heron has told me quite a few things that Alex glossed over when he told me about how the two of you fell in love. If that’s what it is. You were married when you took my son as your lover and you seduced him with your money, but let me tell you something ... money can’t buy my son and it won’t erase the fact that you’re an alcoholic. He won’t stand for that and when he finally wakes up ... he’ll see that you’re nothing special."

Her head spinning, Callie took a step back. "I don’t understand where this is coming from."

"I saw firsthand how miserable you make him! He lived with me for two weeks and for those two weeks ... he was so unhappy that -"

"Because we were apart!" Callie cried. "I was miserable, too! But we’re fine now!"

Irene made a face to show she didn’t believe it. "You keep telling yourself that."

Callie felt the blood rush to her head as she walked toward the smaller women. "Let me tell *you* something, Irene, you are living on *my* yacht so you need to think long and hard before you make an enemy out of me!"

"Oh, let’s see your true colors at last!" Irene snapped. "You made an enemy of *me*, Callie, when you tried to turn my son against me. And don’t worry ... I’ll move. You can take your yacht and shove it up your -"

Turning on her heel, Callie stalked back toward the house.

"By the way," Irene called. "Your ferret died. I put the body in the freezer in case you wanted to bury it."

Drawing up short, Callie thought of a million things she could say ... but nothing came out.

*~*~*~*~

Melana was taking the last of the biscuits from the oven when the phone rang. Alex was eating his third biscuit and grabbed it, coughing out a garbled greeting because his mouth was full. His eyes found Melana’s and he held it out to her. "It’s for you."

"If that is my lying insignificant other, tell him I said to drop dead."

"It’s Cam."

Melana rubbed her hands on her apron and took the phone. "Hello, son."

"Can Dad come to breakfast?"

"Your father has American Express. Tell him to go buy himself a donut or a bagel and choke on it."

"I AM NOT DOING THIS!" Cam yelled. "I AM NOT BEING THE MESSENGER! DAD, TAKE THE PHONE!"

Melana rolled her eyes when the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle filled the line. A second later, Raphael said, "Good morning, mi vida."

"Do I need to remind you that I have, in the past, taken great offense to that endearment and almost beat you to death with a frying pan for it?"

Raphael cleared his throat. "I’d like to come to Callie’s today. I want to check on her and ... I miss you."

"How much did you miss me during your very frequent and lie filled excursions?"

"As much as a person can. And then some."

Melana frowned when the front door slammed. She stepped around the archway in time to see Callie rush down the hallway. She heard her daughter’s frantic sobs and said, "Get here fast. Something wrong with her!"


Hanging up, she followed Alex, who had rushed down the hallway after Callie. He was standing outside the bathroom door, twisting the knob, when she joined him. "Callie!" she called. "What happened?"

"Just a second." Callie turned the water on and splashed her face, trying to buy a little time.

"Open up, baby." Alex wiggled the knob again, then glanced up and fumbled for the key they kept over the door. He found it and quickly unlocked it, slowly easing it open. She gasped when she saw him and he handed her a towel to dry her face. "What happened?"

"Fratelli’s dead."

"Oh ... god." He pulled her into his arms and held her close. "I’m sorry. What happened?"

"I don’t know." Callie wanted to tell him that his mother probably killed their ferret because she hated her, but she didn’t. "Your mom didn’t say."

"I’ll find out." Alex kissed her and hurried from the room. "Where did you put that necklace you got for her in Crete?"

"It’s in my purse."

He poked his head back in the room and said, "I’m gonna go see how she’s doing. I’ll be back in a minute."

She waited until she heard the front door shut before she looked at her mother. "I need to talk to you."

Melana held out her hand, leading Callie to the bed. "What really happened? You didn’t cry this much over your last ferret and you had him *nine* years."

"When Irene brought me the snow globe, she told me that I was just like Alex’s father. She said that Alex deserved better and I told him about it because ... I don’t want to be like his dad. Alex got really angry and said something to her." Callie’s eyes filled with tears again. "And just now ... she said that I’m a spoiled, horrible person who bought Alex and that he’ll leave me when he realizes it. It was awful. She hates me."

"That ungrateful trout!" Melana said, aghast. "She’s living here, rent free ... working at the job *you* secured for her ... and she would dare speak to you that way?!"

"Did you just call her a trout?"

"I’m reserving my better insults for your father."

"Not this again! Mom!"

"No, don’t fret over that. We have bigger fish to fry right now. No pun intended. I’ll be speaking to Irene." Melana stood and rubbed her hands together. "Perhaps I should invite her to tea."

"You don’t drink tea."

"No, but a teacup should be relatively easy to shove down her throat, honey. No one messes with my kids. No one."

"What do I do? Do I tell Alex?"

"Not yet. I’ll take care of it."

"You can’t -"

"Oh, I think you’ll find that I can."

*~*~*~*~*~

"Happy ghost free birthday," Burke said, sliding a box in front of Cristina. "What do you give the girl who hates everything?"

"More sleep?" Smiling, Cristina sat up and ripped into the package. "Woo! A bigger iPod! That is definitely the gift that keeps on giving!"

"I took the liberty of transferring everything from your old one and ... what’s this? My goodness, it’s a key. I wonder what it unlocks."

"Am I supposed to say something cheesy like ‘my heart’ or ‘your heart’ or ... what?"

Preston smiled and held out his hand. "Why don’t you pry yourself from the bed, get dressed, and take a ride with me."

"Road trip!?" She beamed at him. "I’ll bring the music."

He made a face. "I can hardly wait."

Thirty minutes later, they turned onto a street not far from where Callie and Alex lived. The canopy of trees overhead hung low enough to rub against the top of the car and the gravel crunched under the tires, prompting Cristina to compare it to The Land Before Time ... only with less cartoon dinosaurs. When Burke parked in front of a sprawling Cape Cod home, her eyes widened and she looked at him. "This is ..."

"It is." Burke grinned at her. "You described your grandfather’s place in vivid detail, right down to the balusters on the front porch. And ... your mother emailed me all the photos of the place that she had. I’m very glad that you stopped wearing your hair like a lost Beatle."

"You built a house!?"

"Our house."

"I’m an apartment girl! You know ... where they cut the lawn, clean the gutters, and make the neighbors shut up."

"Look around, Cristina. There are no neighbors and we can’t live in eight hundred square feet forever. I’m thinking of the future. With you." He smiled at her. "Don’t freak out. Don’t get crazy about it. Just ... tour the house with me and see if makes you think of the future, too."

"It’s too busy knocking me into the past." She leaned across the console and kissed him. "I love it already."

"You said that the only place you felt safe as a child was in the little area under the stairs. Come and see if I did it justice."

She caught his arm when he reached for the door handle. "I don’t need a little area under the stairs anymore. I knew what real safety was when you crawled into the bed with me after I lost the baby and held onto me. Your arms ... that’s safe."

His smile lit up his face. "I should buy you a house every day. That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me."

"Please! It’s the bigger iPod that won you a brownie point."

"Only one?"

"Maybe two."

They toured the house together. Cristina didn’t cry, even though she wanted to. There was a photo of Grandfather, a man who had propelled her to appreciate Science and Math above anything else, hanging over the mantle and the old, rickety rocking chair that sat near the fireplace had been his. She had spent many an hour sitting on his lap there, watching the sunset, listening to him tell her why being a doctor was the greatest job on earth. He had been the reason she worked her ass off to go to medical school .... and he had died her second year in, leaving her broken down the middle. He had been the closest link to her biological father she had.

Burke had chosen all the furniture and she loved that he knew she wouldn’t mind, that she would prefer not to have to deal with it. In the bedroom, she pulled him to the bed, shooting him a knowing grin and proceeded to thank him ... repeatedly ... for everything. Later on, she walked onto the back deck and pointed, "Oh my god! We can see Goon Docks from here!"

"It’s part of the same cove. We own the land right down to the water."

"Now all we need is Derek to buy the other side and -"

"Mark and Addison have that covered." He pulled her back against him. "I just want to put this out there ... so you’ll know. Any time that you want to go to the justice of the peace ... I’m ready. And if you never feel like you want to ... that’s okay, too, because I’m happy with our life and I won’t push you for anything."

"Why don’t we go right now?"

He stiffened. "What?"

Turning, she looked up at him. "Last night was the weirdest night of my life. I’ve seen ghosts, eternal fire, and a tornado suck someone into a tube. And ... if stuff like that exists ... then so does hope. So does true love. So does -"

"Let’s go."

In the car, she settled back against the leather. "Don’t think for one second that you can only give me one gift on our anniversary. It’s an anniversary *and* a birthday so you better come correct."

"I did that already."

"Wanna do it again?"

"As man and wife? Yes."

Two hours later, Cristina had a simple gold band on her left finger and a bounce in her step as Burke called the Chief to say they needed a week off. Their honeymoon was going to be spent at their new house ... and she couldn’t wait to start it.

*~*~*~*~
CH 15
Alex visited his mother for close to an hour and a half. Irene had given him an earful and he didn’t quite know what to make of it. Part of him was infuriated, but another part of him wanted to doubt every syllable his mom had spoken to him. If what she had told him was right, Callie had been drinking for a lot longer with Sydney Heron than she admitted. Only slightly less troubling than that, however, was the fact that his mother was leaving, heading back to California, and she only gave him one reason: his wife. He couldn’t imagine Callie saying a fraction of what Irene claimed, but the hurt on the woman’s weathered face as she sobbed in his arms had been pretty convincing. He had clung to her, rubbing her bony back, as she begged him to come and visit her, to call, to not forget her.

He retrieved Fratelli’s body, which had been placed in a lidded rectangular bowl, from the freezer on Goon Docks before he stalked back to the house. Going through the garage, he put the ferret in the chest freezer they kept there. When he opened the front door, he heard Melana shouting at Raphael and saw Callie sitting quietly on the sofa beside Cambyses. They both looked like children as their parents raged in the kitchen. It threw Alex back to a time when he did the same thing --- sat completely still to listen to the beating his mother was taking ... or the verbal abuse, which was just as bad. Callie met his eyes and he clenched his jaw tight enough to hurt. He needed to have a very long talk with her, but their houseguests would make that difficult.

Not saying a word to either twin, Alex walked past them and cleared his throat when he saw Melana throw her orange juice in Raphael’s face. "Hey! You’re not going to do this here. If you want to fight then get the hell out. I mean it."

"Stay out of this, Alex." Melana began. "You don’t-"

"Go in the living room and look at your fucking kids, Mel! I don’t give a damn how old they get ... you’re killing *them*!" Alex pointed back toward the living room. "So either shut the hell up or leave. You are not making them hear this! You’re not!"

"Do not swear at my wife!" Raphael boomed.

"Oh, be quiet!" Melana snapped at her husband. "Don’t try to defend my honor after what you did to me, you faithless old goat."

"Faithless!?" Raph looked positively scandalized. "Faithless!? I have never been unfaithful to you! Melana, you have got to stop this!"

"You can kiss my -"

"LEAVE!" Alex yelled. "RIGHT NOW! GO TO THE ARCHFIELD AND SEE HOW LONG THEY LET YOU KEEP THIS UP!"

"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO US IN SUCH A WAY, YOUNG MAN!" Raphael bellowed, stalking toward Alex. "I PAID FOR THIS HOUSE!"

"So that’s where Callie gets it! She’s a real chip off the old block!" Alex shook his head in disgust. "Throw your weight around, Raphael! God knows you’re not pompous enough!"

"Where I get what?" asked Callie, coming to stand behind her husband. Her eyes were red from crying and she stared at him in shock. "What are you talking about, Alex?"

He spun to face her. Seeing her standing there, seeing the dark circles under her eyes, he felt a stark reminder of the previous night and it only served to agitate him more. "Didn’t you tell my mother to leave the yacht because it’s *yours*? Didn’t you tell her that we don’t want her here anymore and you’re tired of having her around? Because ... you don’t speak for me!"

"I didn’t say that to her!" Callie looked frantically at Melana.

"It’s not true," Melana interjected, fuming. "She confronted Callie this morning and-"

"This is none of your business!" Alex glared at his mother in law before turning back to Callie. "What did you say to her? She’s down there packing her shit and she says that she’s going back to California. She’s crying her eyes out! You *know* that I handled what she said to you. You *know* that I want her here! What are you doing!?"

"I didn’t-" Callie began.

"Maybe you should have bound his mouth instead of his feet! Perhaps then you could get a word in," Raphael said, glaring at the younger man.

"DAD!" Callie’s hand flew to her mouth and she squeezed her eyes shut when she heard Alex’s sharp intake of breath.

The world seemed to stop spinning, but Alex didn’t. His head was suddenly whirling like a top as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard. No one else had been rooted in place the previous night. When the ritual had ended, everyone moved at once, rushing into each other’s arms. Callie had been wrenched from his by Eros and ... Alex had been unable to move at all. His heart fell to his stomach and he shook his head. "You did something to me, didn’t you? When you touched my head. I was the only one who couldn’t move. You put some kind of mojo on me or something!" When Callie didn’t answer, Alex yelled, "DIDN’T YOU!"

"I -" Callie trailed off when Alex shot her a look that she had never seen before.

"You *don’t* trust me!"

"It’s not about trust. She had to do it!" Raphael realized the error of his ways when Alex spun, knocking everything off the island. The canister that contained the flour shattered on the ground at his feet. "Stop! We had to make sure that you wouldn’t leave the circle!"

"I SAID I WOULDN’T! WHAT DID YOU DO, CALLIE!? DO NOT LIE TO ME!" Alex stalked toward Callie, but Raphael moved between them. "I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE, RAPHAEL!"

"You leave!" Raphael put his hands on his son in law’s chest, holding him at bay. "Go and cool off and don’t you come back here until you can speak to her without yelling."

"No!" Callie reached out to touch Alex, to take his hand, but he pulled away from her, grabbed his keys and stalked out the front door. "Alex! Wait!"

"Let him go!" Raph grabbed her around the waist, holding her back against his chest. "Mija, he’s angry and a man who has a temper like his -"

"He won’t hit me!"

"LET HIM GO!"

*~*~*~*~

Mark hissed as Addison, who was kneeling before him, slid her mouth over the tip of his erection. Her tongue pulsated and he reached down, slipping his hand into her hair as he moved closer to the edge of the bed. She smiled up at him and he couldn’t take it ... he needed to be inside her ... for the third time that morning. Pulling her to her feet, he leaned forward and kissed her ribcage, the underside of her breasts, the valley between them. When he took her nipple between his teeth, he felt her head fall back, causing the ends of her hair to brush against his hands, which were on her waist. Standing, he attacked her neck, then her mouth as he picked her up.

Addison’s legs went around his waist and she reached between them, positioning him at her entrance. "God ... I want you."

"You have me," he replied, grinning against her lips. "Forever, Mrs. Sloan."

She opened her mouth to protest, but her back hit the wall and it drove him into her with one long, hard thrust. Even though she was slick with need, he filled her almost painfully and she cried out, tightening her legs on his backside to hold him still. "Wait."

Reaching between them, he eased his thumb between the swollen lips of her mound and massaged her clit. He moved lazily, barely grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves, but it was enough. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she pushed herself up the wall and moved down on him again. This time ... he whispered for her to wait and increased the pressure on her center, watching her eyes roll back in her head. Her orgasm face was the best he’d ever seen, he decided, and when her mouth dropped open, signaling her release, he caught her cry of relief with his mouth, and slammed against her.

"Oh, godddd," Addison cried, thrashing against him. "Mark ... harder."

He pushed away from the wall and carried her to the bed, letting her fall back against it. He was grateful that she had insisted on the thickest mattresses in Seattle because their bed was just the right height. Leaving her back on the tangled sheets, he pulled her legs up against his chest, his hands massaging her thighs as he pumped into her at a frenzied pace. His eyes fell to her chest, watching her breasts bounce up and down from the force of it. When her hands snagged the comforter in a white knuckled grip, he pulled out and kneeled down, sucking at her clit until her heels beat a steady rhythm on his back and she pulled at his hair hard enough to make his eyes water. Pleased with himself, he pulled her upright and gave her a knowing look when his hard on brushed against her cheek.

She wrapped her hand around his shaft and took him into her mouth again, her cheeks hollowing from the force that she used to blow him. Pumping him up and down, she cupped his balls with her free hand, massaging them, and he groaned her name. When she swallowed and her throat constricted around his aching cock, he got off ... and closed his eyes as she continued to lick at his quivering flesh until he softened. Spent, he fell onto the bed beside her and pulled her against his chest. "Holy fuck, Addison. If I had known that married sex was so damn good ..."

"You would have asked me to marry you before Derek, right?"

"Pretty much." He kissed the side of her sweaty face. "We didn’t make it to Melana’s breakfast."

"I told her we weren’t coming."

"Isn’t that what we just did?"

"Ass." She kissed his neck and splayed her hand over his rock hard abdomen. "You should probably make me breakfast in bed."

"Woman, if anyone gets breakfast in bed ... it’s me. I’ve done my job. I carried you over the threshold last night, screwed your brains out, let you spoon me when you were ice cold, *and* I woke up and did my husbandly duties *three* more times ... so ... you cook."

"If I cook we’re having Cocoa Pebbles and sour milk."

"Pizza, for the win." Mark sat up and pulled his boxers from the floor.

Addison watched him dress, eyeing his muscular body with appreciation. The muscles on his back rippled like the ocean as he pawed through his closet, settling on a T-shirt and track pants. A moment later, he headed to the shower, telling *her* to make the call for lunch. She grumbled until he kissed her and cupped her breast, then she decided she’d happily pull herself from the bed and place the order ... because eating meant she could fortify herself for the next round. Slipping into her robe, she grabbed the phone and dialed the number by heart, laughing at how pathetic it was. She had thought the days of pizza, beer, and hot wings would be behind her when she graduated medical school.

Pulling her hair into a messy pony tail, she headed to the kitchen and grimaced when she opened the refrigerator. Callie was supposed to clean it out for her, but because of the attack, nothing had been touched. Some of the leftovers had grown penicillin and the fruit in the crisper had congealed to a watery mess. Trying not to gag, she set about cleaning the mess and when the doorbell rang a short time later, she glanced at the clock in shock. "That’s the fastest pizza in the West," she mumbled, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

She frowned when she saw Alex through the window. One look at his face caused her to run across the living room and yank the door open. "What’s wrong?"

"I need a beer, a straightjacket, and for you to listen to me. In that order." Sailing past her, Alex walked into the kitchen and yanked a Heineken from the fridge, twisting the top off. "Your best friend? She’s a bitch. Do you know what she did to me?"

Addison shook her head. "No, but this is where I remind you that it’s ‘chicks before dicks’ and if you call her that again, I’ll shove that bottle up your ass."

"Where’s Mark?" Alex demanded, draining the bottle and retrieving another one.

"Right behind you." Addison pointed at her husband, whose hair was still wet from the shower. "Alex was just explaining that Callie’s a bitch."

"When did you get a death wish?" Mark asked, clapping Alex on the back as he took the bottle from his hand before he could open it. He gave it to Addison. "Let’s take a walk, man."

Twenty minutes later, Mark scratched his chin and gazed out over Whisper Cove as he let Alex’s tale sink in. They were sitting on the dock, far enough away from the house for Alex to call Callie whatever he wanted ... and he had not disappointed. With a sigh, Mark shifted uncomfortably on the stiff patio furniture Addison had insisted on buying, even though he had assured her that the pastel pinks and blues were emasculating. When he glanced at Alex, he knew that the other man’s discomfort had little to do with the furniture and everything to do with what he perceived to be the ultimate deception. Deciding to ignore that aspect of the story, Mark cleared his throat and said, "You think she really said that stuff to your mother?"

"I didn’t." Alex sat back, his arms over his chest like a petulant child. "But ... now? Jesus Christ, Mark, she did a spell or voodoo or something on me to *paralyze* me. Saying that shit to my mom probably came easy. I’ve married Lord Voldemort!"

"Lady Voldemort."

"Whatever. She’s evil."

Hiding his smile, Mark looked away. "That’s not Callie. You know that."

"Does anyone, other than her father, really know shit about her? That wasn’t Callie last night either. That wasn’t Callie in Greece acting like her uncle’s suicide was nothing but a boring diversion." Alex’s cell phone rang for the millionth time and he pulled it out of his pocket, tossing it into the water. "I don’t know her at all."

Mark wished that he had kept the beer for himself. "What did she say? I mean ... how did she explain it?"

"She can’t explain it!"

"When you asked her ... what did she say?"

"I didn’t let her say anything."


"Putz." Reaching across the table, Mark popped him on the forehead.

"What the hell!?"

"How can you be this pissed off when you don’t even know *why* she did it."

"What can she possibly say to me that changes anything. She didn’t trust me. She wanted Eros to keep her safe instead of me. You should have seen her on the plane ... I woke up and she wasn’t there and I found her sprawled on the bed playing videogames with him in one of the bedrooms. She didn’t even act like it was a big deal."

"Wasn’t Blake in there with them?"

"That’s not the point."

"What *is* the point?"

"I don’t like him."

"And what does that have to do with *anything* that brought you here today?" Mark regarded his friend through narrowed eyes. "You know what I think? I think you’re pissed for the sake of being pissed. I think you’re freaking out over the same things that Melana is freaking out over and you’re grasping at reasons to be mad because being mad means that you don’t have to be afraid of what you saw last night."

"I’m not -"

"Let me finish. I don’t think Cal said those things to Irene." Mark held up his hand. "In this corner we have Callie who loves family so much ... that she’s still as close as a person can be to George’s mother. She invited Irene into your home, into your life, and made sure that she felt welcomed. She includes her in *everything* and she does that for *you*, so that you can rebuild your relationship." He held up his other hand. "In this corner, we have Irene, who has proven that her concept of family is sketchy at best. She’s also working at the hospital, which is gossip central, so maybe she’s hearing the rumor mill at it’s worst and who knows what they’re saying, Alex. They could be saying that Callie was cheating on you with McFry or that she’s -"

"Sydney Heron told her that Callie’s been drinking with her for months. Not just the one time."

"And do you believe that?" Cocking his head to one side, Mark looked unconvinced. "I’ve seen you with Callie for *months* and you can barely keep your hands off her. I think you would have smelled it or tasted it or known ... because you do know her and I know her enough to guarantee that the guilt would have been all over her face."

Alex gazed back out over the water, lost in thought.

Mark let him stay there for a few minutes before he spoke again. "If I had been in your shoes last night and Addison had been in Callie’s ... it would have taken the hand of God to hold me in that circle. Some things aren’t about trust ... it’s about understanding and I think Cal understands that sometimes a man’s heart is stronger than his word. You gave her your word that you wouldn’t move ... but she probably knew that your heart would move mountains if you thought she needed you."

Alex smiled, then laughed. "You have been married *two* weeks and you’re already so whipped and so *pathetic* that you are talking about the hand of God and mountains moving. And *hearts*."

"I had sex three times this morning." Mark held his hands up as if that explained everything. "I’m still delirious and would tattoo ‘chicks before dicks’ on my back if my *wife* asked me to. Because she’s my *wife* and I’ve never been in a position to say that before. I told her this morning that if I had known married sex was so good, I would have done it a long time ago, but what I meant to say was ‘married life’. Married life is good."

"Not all of it."

"More of it than not."

"I want her to be the person that took me flying in her plane to California and sailed me home in her yacht. I want her to be the person who made me fall so hard for her with just a *look* that I couldn’t breathe. I feel like that person never existed and everything was a lie."

"How long have you felt that way?"

"It started in Greece, to be honest."

"Then why did you promise her that no matter what she did last night ... you would stay," Mark asked. "Because if you’ve felt that way for a while then that could have been your out. Instead, you promised her something that you don’t want to do."

"I never said I was leaving her."

"Let’s review. You’ve called her a bitch, a liar, a fucking cunt, a piece of shit, and said that you married Lord Voldemort." He checked his watch. "And you fit all that in under an hour. As your friend ... I’m telling you that if she makes you this miserable you should end it. As her friend ... I’m telling you that if you call her *any* of that to her face ... I’ll kick your ass so hard that your conniving mother will feel it and I won’t apologize for it. Ever."

Getting to his feet, Mark put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. "I’m going back inside. You’re welcome to come in and have lunch with us ... but I’m not giving you any alcohol. All you have to do is look at Callie to know why."

Alex sat on the dock for close to an hour, twisting his wedding band around his finger before he made up his mind.

He knew what he had to do.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Thank you for having lunch with me today." Eros pulled out the seat for Izzie and waited for her to sit down. "It’s not very often that I find myself treated to such a beautiful view."

Smiling, she watched him sit across from her and put his napkin in his lap. He was a charmer. She had picked up on that the previous night. And she needed to be charmed. Her two month relationship with Viper had ended as abruptly as it began. He had broken up with her via text message, simply stating that he needed more. Hearing that had filled her with self confidence issues. ‘More of what’ had been a constant refrain in the back of her head. What had she been lacking, how had she been less than enough? After weeks of crying, binging, baking, and barfing ... she needed someone to look at her the way Eros was currently looking at her and she needed to look at him the same way.

"Tell me about yourself," she finally said, squirming under his scrutiny.

"I don’t make it habit of summoning spirits, sending them back, or dabbling in the black arts. This was an isolated occurrence that will hopefully not repeat itself any time soon. Or ever." He grinned. "I went to college in Germany, where I earned a degree in massage therapy that I have not been fortunate enough to utilize in the capacity I had hoped. There’s just not much demand for it in my country."

"Greece?"

"Yes. Have you ever been?"

"No. I have been to Germany, though. I ... I modeled some to pay for college and I got to travel a little."

"I modeled as well," he told her. "Atrocious lifestyle. I didn’t enjoy it at all. I felt like a piece of meat or a ... zoo animal and the camera was my cage."

"Oh my god. That’s exactly what it felt like." Izzie’s eyes widened. "Most people think it’s glamorous and they never believe me when I tell them it’s like being chained down. You’re poked and prodded and made up to perfection while people lie and tell you that you look beautiful ... and then they airbrush all of you away. I didn’t even recognize myself sometimes."

"I believe I recognize you," Eros replied, pointing behind her.

Izzie turned and groaned. A poster of herself against an Italian backdrop decorated the side of the jukebox at Vinnie’s Italian Bistro and she put a hand over her face. She had forgotten it was there. "That’s embarrassing."

"That’s beautiful."

She felt her face fill with color and looked down at the menu when the waiter arrived. After placing their orders, she told him about her life ... right down to growing up in a trailer and being the object of every girl’s scorn. Shocking even herself, she also mentioned Hannah, her daughter, and was stunned when he didn’t bat an eyelash. They enjoyed their lunch, talking about everything and nothing. They laughed easily and when Eros told her about Bounty’s Keep, the way he described it painted a beautiful image in her mind. He asked if she had internet access at her house and when she said she did, he offered to show her pictures.

Izzie wasn’t really sure how it all happened.

But it happened fast.

After lunch, they returned to the apartment she shared with George. It was Burke’s old place and only had one bedroom, but that bedroom was hers. George was content to sleep on the sofa and that was something she hated when she opened the door and heard him snoring loudly. Smiling apologetically at Eros, she took his arm and pulled him into the bedroom, firing up her laptop. He inquired about her roommate and she assured him that’s all George was ... then she feasted her eyes on Bounty’s Keep and fell in love.

An hour later ... her fourth orgasm rolled through her and she gave up trying to stay quiet for George’s benefit. She cried out, wondering how no other man had ever found *that* spot and touched it the way that Eros did. When he finally entered her, her eyes bulged and she bit her bottom lip, thinking he was too big, too hard, too ... good ... to, oh my god, be real. Clinging to him, she lifted her hips to meet his and as soon as she adjusted to his size, she realized that she could fall for him in the blink of an eye.

And he would have to go home sooner or later.

She made the decision to keep her heart out of it as she surrendered every inch of her body to him.

He certainly made the most of it.

*~*~*~*~*~

Finn Dandridge looked up from his paperwork when the door opened. He got to his feet, unable to believe his eyes. Strolling into his clinic was Callie Torres and she had a woman with her that could have been her twin, but further inspection showed her to be older. Grinning from ear to ear, he opened his arms and said, "If it isn’t the girl who ate her hair!"

Callie stepped into his embrace, shifting the container that housed Fratelli’s body to the side. "You weren’t supposed to remember that."

"I remember everything that a pretty woman says to me." Finn extended his hand to Melana. "Finn Dandridge. I run this mutt house."

"Melana Torres. I birthed *this* mutt." Putting her arm around Callie, Melana pointed at the box. "I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. Her ferret died under suspicious circumstances and -"

"Mom." Callie rolled her eyes, shooting Finn a look. "How are you?"

He held out his hands and took the bowl from her, peering inside. "Better than this little guy. I’m sorry to see this. How old was he?"

"Just over a year." She followed him into an empty exam room and watched him peel the lid back. "He’s frozen."

"That makes my job a little more difficult. I’ll have to do a little testing and some bloodwork on him, but I should be able to tell you tomorrow for sure. Is it ... do you mind leaving him here?"

The lump in Callie’s throat popped and she scooped Fratelli from Finn’s arms, cradling him against her chest. Nothing about the ferret felt the same. He was hard and cold and his fur was matted with ice crystals ... but the ferret was the first real thing Alex had ever given her and saying goodbye was like saying goodbye to a big part of their life. Tears dropped onto her cheek and Finn held out a box of tissue. She took a couple, dried her eyes, kissed Fratelli on the head and held him back out. "Thanks, Finn."

"I’d say ‘anytime’, but I really don’t want to see you under these circumstances again." He put the ferret back in the bowl and pulled his gloves off before he hugged her again. "Call me tomorrow around noon and we’ll see what we have."

With a nod, she watched him shake her mother’s hand and walked into the front lobby. A big fat puppy with enormous paws spotted her and raced forward, gnawing on the tip of her boot, which it all but swallowed. Laughing, she bent down and rubbed his ears, marveling at how big his head was. He planted his paws on her chest and proceeded to lick every inch of her face and neck she let him reach. "Who is this big guy?"

"He’s homeless and he’s not big at all yet," Finn told her, kneeling down to pat the dog’s side. "He’s an English Mastiff. That breed holds the record as being the heaviest dog on the books and considering how this one eats ... I think he may break any record there is."

"He’s not yours?" Callie asked, laughing when the puppy bit her hair and pulled.

"He’s not mine." Finn chuckled. "You want him?"

"Seriously?"

"Calliope, what are you going to do with a dog? You work all the time." Melana had to smile when the puppy put its large face down the front of her daughter’s shirt, causing her to fall backwards on her backside. "He is fairly cute." Reaching out, she stroked the dog, causing him to lavish her with affection. "Good heavens, he’s solid as a rock! Are they decent guard dogs?"

"The size alone intimidates the heck out of people." Finn nodded. "They’re loyal, great with kids, but they’re generally pretty lazy the bigger they get so give him a chew toy and a fenced yard and he’ll be perfectly content to be left alone for long periods of time. I mean, don’t neglect him, but they’re not like Chihuahuas or other needy dogs who have to have constant attention."

"I did just get my yard fenced." Callie got to her knees, putting her feet under her to salvage her boots. "What do you say? You wanna go home with me, big guy?"

The puppy yipped playfully and Callie was sold.

Finn went behind the counter and pulled out a stack of puppy pads. "He’s good at using these and we’ve already gone through several rounds of obedience training. This is the name and number of the trainer. She’s an older lady who specifically works with large breeds so I’m urging you to call her."

Sticking the number into her purse, Callie said, "Does he have a name?"

"Not yet. And he is crate trained. He may try to manipulate you into letting him out at night, but stick to your guns unless you want to wind up with two hundred and eighty pounds of dog in your bed at night."

Melana made a noise. "She was married to George O’Malley, though he’s probably only one hundred and fifty pounds ... of shit."

"MOM!"

Finn threw his head back and laughed. "I like her."

Callie made a face. "Is there an adoption fee or anything?"

"This one’s on me," Finn replied, pulling out an envelope full of papers. "These are his AKC papers and his shot records. He’s a whopping sixty pounds right now so enjoy the lapdog while you can because when he grows into those feet ... you’ll be sitting on HIS lap. Here’s his leash. He’s been eating Science Diet."

Thanking him profusely, Callie handed the dog’s leash to Melana and put the papers in her purse. She left her phone number and address for Finn’s log and followed her mother outside. In the car, she started the engine and gazed back at the puppy, who poked his head between the seats. "What the hell am I supposed to name you?"

"How about Crazy? Or Sucker? Or Fool ... because he has made you all three of those things. Do you know what this creature is? It’s similar to that ‘Turner and Hooch’ dog who slobbers all over the place and can bite your head off with a yawn." As if to illustrate that Melana was telling the truth, the dog playfully bit her on the chin. "Let’s go to the pet store, honey, I can see it growing as we speak."

Callie plunked down close to two thousand dollar at PetCo. She bought a huge dog house, two crates, several food dishes, and one of every toy they had. The doghouse and one crate would be delivered the following day. The other crate was in her trunk. As she drove back toward her house, she glanced at Melana. "How could Alex think I said anything like that to his mother."

"I guess he thinks if he can swear at your father and me then you can say horrible things to her with no remorse." Melana sighed. "I can’t believe your father prevented me from paying that damn termagant a visit."

"First she’s a trout and now she’s a termagant. What’s with the ‘T’ names?"

"I could have called her a tiny tramp, but I refrained." Callie’s hand was resting on the gear shift and Mel covered it with her own. "I’m going to stay with you for a while after your father goes back to Miami. I told him earlier. It’s not just because I’m afraid I’ll murder Raphael ... it’s because you need me ... whether you realize it or not. And sitting in your house will be much better than sitting in mine."

Callie rubbed her thumb over the back of her mom’s hand. "I want you to stay."

"Someone has to take care of this monster you’ve acquired." Melana reached into the backseat, patting the sleeping dog on the stomach, causing it to grunt. "Perhaps Pig is a good name."

"I wonder what Gucci will think of him."

"He’ll probably piss himself and claw my eyes out in fear. Poor monkey."

"Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"You’re not leaving Daddy, right?"

Mel looked straight ahead at the cars in front of them. "I was the one who was left, sweetheart. I just need a little time to decide if I want to go back or go forward."

The returned to the house in silence. When Callie pulled into the garage, she saw that Alex’s car was there, but she didn’t feel relieved. She didn’t feel anything. The way he had spoken to her parents did not sit well with her and the more she thought about it, the angrier she felt. And the fact that Addison had called to ask why he was at her house calling Callie a bitch only added fuel to the fire. He always called her something vile when he was angry. He had exhausted his extensive vocabulary of insults during their breakup and no matter how much he apologized for it ... it still hurt.

Cambyses walked into the garage and opened his mother’s door, his eyes widening when he saw the dog. "What the hell is that?"

"Your sister has lost her mind." Melana nodded at the back seat of the car. "Help her get the bags in. There are some boxes in the trunk as well."

Cam’s eyes widened as the dog stepped out behind Melana and stretched and yawned. "Holy shit! It’s a baby and it has a mouth like that!?"

"Stop calling him a thing." Callie came around the car and handed her brother a handful of plastic bags.

"What should I call it?"

"I don’t know yet."

Melana headed into the house with the puppy as Callie unloaded the car. Cam took the first load in and returned, pulling his sister into a hug. "Alex is here. He apologized to Dad and took his mother to a hotel. We offered to let her stay at the Archfield, but he refused. I think he said something about the Best Western. He just got back a little while ago."

"He told Addison I was a bitch."

"You *are* a bitch," Cambyses told her, "but if you want me to kick his ass for that just say the word."

"I don’t, but thanks." She pointed at the crate. "God gave you muscles, Don Juan, so use them."

Moving back to the car, she pulled out the remaining bags and turned, running into Alex. The impact caused the plastic to tear and she gritted her teeth when a can of dogfood landed on her foot. They leaned down to retrieve the contents and bumped heads, both swearing. "You stay still," Alex said, rubbing his head as he gathered up the toys and food. "Either you bought a dog or we’re trying something new in our diet."

"I’m a bitch, right? I should eat like one."

Alex slowly stood, putting the cans into the bag that wasn’t torn. "Addison called you, huh?"

"Did you think she wouldn’t?"

"Why don’t you leave this here and take a walk with me?"

"If we’re ending this we’re doing it without the walk or the the suspense. We’re not fighting about it, we’re not doing anything except saying it.’

"Callie, please." He took the bags from her hand and set them on the ground. "Come on."

Crossing her arms over her chest to keep him from touching her, she followed behind him. They walked past their bedroom, past the glass room where their jacuzzi was, and onto one of the many hiking trails that surrounded their property. Callie was shocked to see that the fence had literally gone to the very end of their property, which was massive. The dog would be in heaven, exploring such a huge area. They had put a stone bench in the far corner, beneath a thicket of trees and Alex sat down, patting the area beside him. She didn’t sit.

He watched her walk to the corner of the fence, where the two sides came together, and gaze up at the security camera there. When she put her hands on the wire, hanging onto it, he cleared his throat. "I need you to tell me why you did that to me."

"Which part? Since you apparently think that I also sabotaged your relationship with your mother ... you’ll need to be more specific."

"Why did you do ... whatever the hell that was ... last night? Why didn’t you trust me?"

"Because I knew what was coming," she replied. "And I knew that I couldn’t be *your* anchor if the roles were reversed. I would have come off that circle the second I thought you were in danger."

"You should have told me."

"You should be thanking me." She turned and looked at him. "The only way it binds someone is if they try to move out of the protective circle. So, the fact that it locked proves that I was right to do it. Otherwise you’d be planning a funeral right now."

"That’s too convenient. I don’t buy that."

"You can take my word for it or I can show you the binding spell."

"By doing it again?"

"No, by physically showing you the spell in a book. It tells you exactly what it does."

"Why didn’t you do it to anyone else?"

"Because no one else had to go through what I went through. There wasn’t a reason for Mark to try to help Addison or for Cambyses to do anything for Meredith. I was the one in the hot spot and -"

Alex swore under his breath. "What about Cam? You don’t think he was tempted to rush to your aid?"

"No, I don’t." Callie leaned back against the fence. "You were holding a piece of me in your hand, Alex. In that pouch. You couldn’t have rushed off that circle to help anyone but me and the same goes for the others. They’re bound by the anchor to the person they’re holding. You were the only one who could come to my defense and I knew that you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t try."

"I just -"

"I don’t have anything else to say about it! I didn’t want to die! Which proves that I have made really great strides in trying to outrun my past! A past that your mother is just finding out about." She ran her hands though her hair. "I didn’t say any of the things she accused me of."

"Why would she lie? Why would she -"

"Why would *I* lie, Alex?!" Her voice raised before she could control it and she heard the puppy bark in the distance. A moment later, the Mastiff ran through the underbrush and jumped at her legs, almost knocking her down. "Good god, little man. What’s the matter?"

"What the hell is that?"

The puppy turned and barked at Alex, loud and deep, digging its huge paws into the dirt like a bull about to charge. Callie bent and grabbed it when it did just that, holding it against her chest. "Finn gave it to me."

"Meredith’s Finn? The vet guy?"

"I took Fratelli to him." Callie didn’t look at her husband, instead she concentrated on the puppy. "He’s doing a necropsy or whatever they do."

Alex shot to his feet. "You think my mother killed our ferret!? God dammit, Callie! What the fuck!?"

The dog showed every tooth in its mouth, which was impressive. The fur around its neck stood up and the rumbling growl that erupted from it made Callie’s eyes widen. "Shit. I adopted the Devil."

"You did that last night!" he yelled. "And apparently it’s still inside you! You’re actually accusing my *mother* of -"

"You weren’t there. You didn’t hear how she told me he was dead. She was ... glad."

"I guess it’s a good thing I took her to a shitty hotel in a shitty part of town, Callie, because we’ll want to keep the pet killer away from that ... thing." Stalking toward their house, he stopped and looked at her. "Your *father* almost got you killed and you expect me to respect him and I do that for you because I love you, but I will *not* let you villainize my mother when she’s not here to defend herself!"

"Were you respecting my father when you were in his face yelling at him? Were you respecting my mother when you were telling her -"

"I’m not doing this!" Alex yelled. "Do you hear me!?"

"FINE!"

"YOU KNOW WHAT, CALLIE?! FUCK YOU! YOU ARE A BITCH!"

The puppy snarled at the raised voices and bounded forward, breaking Callie’s grasp. Alex had turned his back to them and was heading down the trail ... when it latched onto the seat of his pants, biting him square in the ass.

And the scream that erupted from his throat implied that it was HARD.

*~*~*~*~*~

Cambyses struggled not to laugh as he held out a fresh cotton ball to Callie. Alex was lying face down on the bed, his pants lowered to this thighs with his bare white backside shining under the light. The bite mark took up most of Karev’s left cheek and the fact that he had his face buried in his arms didn’t hide the crimson color staining his ears and neck. He was humiliated, but no one in the house had much sympathy for him. They had all heard his final words before the bite and if the dog had not bitten him ... Cam was going to.

Callie dabbed at the worst of it with alcohol, enjoying the fact that her husband squirmed in pain. Wordlessly, she rifled through the first aid kit and pulled out the topical skin adhesive. "I never thought I’d go from ghosts on Derek’s ass to gluing Alex’s ass. Cam, can you open up the sterile wipes?"

"You want baby powder, too?"

She bit down on her lips when Alex tried to wrench his pants up. "Wait. I’m not finished. You’re gonna get blood on the bed."

He stopped moving and put his head down again. "Hurry up."

"Yes, bitch, hurry up. He needs to be on his feet when he verbally attacks you again." Cam held out a wipe. "Good dog, by the way. I like him."

The puppy, who sat in the corner watching, seemed to realize that it had done something bad. It crawled toward Alex on its stomach, whimpering, then batted at his hand with its wet nose. Alex pulled his hand away. "Get that bastard out of here! Now!"

"Cam, I’ll finish up here. Would you mind feeding the puppy?" Callie shot her brother a pointed look. "Please?"

"Alex does have a scrawny ass. Poor dog. Come on, baby, let’s get you some grub." Cam patted his hip and waited patiently for the dog to follow. "Not medium rare jerk."

"Are you finished?" Alex demanded as soon as the door shut.

"I just want to make sure it’s clean." Callie used another wipe, smoothing away the last of the blood. "Does it hurt?"


"Gee, I don’t know. Cujo butterflied my ass. What do you fucking think?"


Snapping the first aid kit shut, she crawled off the bed. "You know what? I’m done."

Alex got to his feet and yanked his pants up. "I still cannot believe you think my mother killed Fratelli."

"I guess we’ll find out tomorrow." She put the kit on the dresser and leaned back against it. "She did it, Alex, because she was mad at me."

"Fratelli was *mine*. He didn’t even like you!"

"Well, my dog doesn’t like you!"

"That thing is going right back to Finn! I mean it!"

"I’m keeping him!"

"No, you’re not! By god, that thing tried to kill me!"

"You’re right, Alex, it tried to crack your skull! Asshat!"

Raphael pushed the door open without knocking. "Alex-"

"Don’t worry about it. I was just leaving." Alex wrenched his closet open and grabbed his bag.

"I think perhaps you’d like to see this before you do." Raphael opened the armoire, where the bedroom television was kept. Turning it on, he pressed a button on a small gray box and picked up the remote, programming in a few numbers. A moment later, Callie and Irene filled the screen and Callie recognized it immediately as their showdown on the front lawn.

Raphael turned the volume up and glared at Alex as he heard for himself exactly what had transpired. Raph let it play until Callie stormed off toward the house and Irene informed her that Fratelli was dead. The last audible sounds were Callie sobbing as she pushed the front door open and Irene actually *laughing* as she headed toward the yacht. Saying nothing, Raphael turned off the television and put the remote back in place, then he walked out of the room.

Alex was still gazing at the television in shock when Callie started to follow her father. He caught her arm. "Callie - I am so sorry. I don’t -"

"You were just leaving."

"No. No, I’m not. I didn’t -"

She pulled her arm from his grasp and looked at him, tears blurring her vision. "You have promised me a million times that you’ll never leave and that’s always the first thing that you do. You get pissed off and you grab your bag. Well, this is the last time you’re grabbing it, Alex. So, make it count. Pick it up and go because you are NOT coming back."

He had been wrong earlier in the day, when he told Mark he wanted her to look at him the way she did when he fell for her. She had been crying because of George and Izzie and the hurt that danced in her chocolate brown eyes had stirred something inside him that he had never felt before. It was like feeling his heart beat for the first time. And now ... now *he* had put that look there and it was enough to buckle his knees. Dropping down before her, he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Please, Callie. Please don’t do this. I’m sorry."

She twisted and turned until he let her go, then she slipped her wedding rings off and held them out. "All that talk about me not trusting you ... and you’re the one who doesn’t trust *me*. You thought I was lying to you about what she said to me. You actually thought that I could *ever* -"

Alex started to cry, reaching for her again. "I am not leaving this house. I mean it."

"Then I will."

"No!" He grabbed her hips, not letting her walk past him. His fingers dug into her flesh as he gazed up at her. "You know what? I’ll sleep in the guest room. Okay? I’ll leave you alone and when we both calm down ... we’ll fix this. I swear to God, we’ll fix it, baby."

"Baby?" She gritted her teeth, dropping her rings on the floor in front of him. "Fuck *you*, Alex. You really are a bastard."

"Cal-"

"*I* am not the one who is like your father. YOU are."

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 16
"Calliope, wake up." Melana shook her daughter lightly. "Baby, Finn is here."

Callie rolled over and looked at the clock. Beside her, the puppy stirred, planting a large paw on her chest as if to remind her that they were finally getting sleep for the first time in hours. He had been restless in the crate, whining and pacing. She had finally relented and let him climb in the bed with her, but he had felt it would be better to lick her, to root around in her hair, and to hop off the bed and scratch the door than sleep. She had spent more time outside than in and had watched the sun rise through bleary eyes. The fact that it was almost one o’clock in the afternoon didn’t shock her. She would have preferred it to be much later. If she was asleep, she could ignore the fact that Alex had kept his word and slept down the hallway ... and she didn’t really care. Her apathy about the entire matter shocked her. She genuinely did ... not ... care.

"Why is he here?" she mumbled, stretching and yawning.

The dog, who was watching her closely, yawned as well. Melana chuckled and patted him on the head. "I think perhaps you have a loyal subject with this one. Have you chosen a name yet?"

"He’ll tell me when he’s ready." Callie nuzzled the dog’s massive neck and got to her feet, pulling her robe on. She washed her face and brushed her teeth under his watchful eye before she padded down the hall.

Finn had indeed arrived at her house and was sitting with Melana at the kitchen table, finishing off a sandwich that she had obviously prepared for him. He got to his feet, wiping his mouth with a napkin when he saw her. "Hi, Callie. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d still be asleep. Are you okay"

"I’m fine, just exhausted. I had sixty pounds of dog in my bed and he seemed to think that I was inviting him there to *play*."

He opened his mouth, laughing. "What did I tell you? If you get that started now ... when he’s the size of bear you’ll be suffocated with fur and muscle in your sleep!"

"I had to." Bending down, she rubbed her new pet’s neck, causing him to burrow his massive head against her leg. "He was so sad looking at me through the bars of that crate. Finn, he’s just a baby."

Finn and Mel exchanged knowing looks. "She’s a goner," Finn pronounced, walking to where the puppy sat beside Callie, leaning against her protectively. "And you, you mangy mutt, are a traitor. You didn’t even greet me hello." Reaching in his pocket, Finn pulled out a treat and held it in his palm. The dog turned its head away, then gazed up at Callie with wide, expressive eyes.

Still kneeling beside the beast, Callie nudged it. "Take it, big guy."

The dog looked away.

"He loves these." Finn tried again, then gave the biscuit to Callie. "You do it."

The second the treat touched her fingers, the dog greedily gobbled it down and yipped in appreciation. Callie chuckled. "I guess he likes me more."

"Who wouldn’t?" Finn held out his hand to help her to her feet. "You’re way prettier and you only stab *people* with needles. He knows what I am."

Opening the back door, she let the puppy out into the yard, knowing that he would scratch to come back in when he was ready. Her eyes went to the brown paper bag on the counter and the twinkling smile left her face. "Is that -"

"Yeah," Finn replied, nodding. "I didn’t know if you’d want to bury him or not. If you want me to take him back and dispose of him, I will."

"No. No, I want to bury him." Pursing her lips with determination, she nodded. "What did you find out?"

Pulling out a chair for her, Finn nodded at it. "Why don’t you sit down?"

Callie looked at her mother, who averted her eyes to the back window, where the puppy had stood up on its back legs, paws on the glass, and was watching them with curiosity. Braced for the worse, Callie nodded. "Tell me."

"I didn’t have to look very far for the cause of death." Finn took a sip of cola, obviously trying to collect his thoughts. "I did an oral exam first and his teeth were covered with green residue. I did a few scrapings and examined it under the microscope. I don’t have official confirmation yet, but based on my visual assessment and because it’s an unfortunate end to a lot of pets, I think that the ferret was given rat poison. Whether it was intentional or an accidental consumption I don’t know, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure that when the tests come back ... it will be positive."

"It was intentional," Melana said. "That old bitch is going to realize why Greek women generally revert to violence first. I’ll let her explain herself only after I’ve bled her like a leech."

"That was oddly endearing." Callie chuckled.

A shriek startled Finn and he stared with wide eyes at Gucci, who scurried into the kitchen carrying one of his diapers. The monkey hopped up on Melana’s lap and held it out. Smiling, Mel took the diaper. "It offends him when he soils his diaper. That yell you just heard was his indignation at being woken up from his nap by the call of nature."

Finn could only stare at the newest addition in shock. The capuchin was dressed in denim overalls and wore a straw hat on its head. Gucci seemed to forget all about the wetness in his pants when he saw Finn. Bounding across the table, he pulled his hat off and bowed, holding the hat to his chest. Peering up at Finn with a look of expectation, he opened his mouth, revealing his razor sharp teeth as he ‘smiled’ in greeting. Melana held out bag of Cheerios to Finn, who accepted it and fished one out. "Here you go, buddy."

Gucci accepted the cereal and popped it into his mouth, signing thank you with his hand. Finn gasped. "Did he just -"

"He did," Melana replied. "Finn, this is Gucci. He’s a trained service animal. I have epilepsy and he’s always able to let me know that I’m about to seize in enough time for me to lie down. I’ve been working on the sign language with him. He’s incredibly smart."

Extending his hand, Gucci waited for Finn to take it. When he did, Gucci shook it up and down, signed hello, then scampered across the table and jumped on Callie’s shoulder, wrapping her hair around his body like a mink stole. Clearly amused, Finn laughed at the monkey’s antics and was relieved to see that Callie had joined him. Her laugh was rich and boisterous and he let his gaze linger over her makeup free face for a moment. He had never fully appreciated how beautiful she was. He had noticed, of course, but with the light from the window playing over her features, it was vivid and undeniable. His eyes moved to her left hand, which was free of jewelry.

Clearing his throat, he said, "So, you wound up marrying O’Malley?"

Groaning, Callie nodded slowly. "I did. For like ... a minute ... and then we ended that calamity and moved on."

"So, you’re not married?" He looked pointedly at her hand again. "I could have sworn that you had on rings yesterday."

Rubbing her ring finger with her thumb, Callie took a deep breath. "I, uh, married Alex Karev. You remember him, right?"

Finn knew that his face revealed his disappointment. "I think so. Didn’t he date Derek’s ex-wife for a while? Allison?"

"Addison," Callie corrected. "And no, they didn’t date. They just had a very public kiss that everyone in Seattle apparently witnessed."

Melana had to struggle to hide her amusement. Finn suddenly looked like a little boy who had been told the ice cream truck had broken down and wouldn’t be coming after all. Clearing her throat, Melana got to her feet and said, "Finn, I baked homemade apple pie this morning and I insist that you try it."

"I have eaten you out of house and home already." Finn shook his head politely, smiling at Callie, who was holding Gucci like an infant. "She made me eat *two* sandwiches and potato salad, which I confess, was the best I’ve ever had."

"My family views eating as a thing to be enjoyed in abundance. We’re Cuban and Greek. Food’s pretty much a universal language." Callie smiled when Mel set a large portion of pie in front of him. "See?"

Finn picked up the fork and dug in, moaning when the perfect blend of cinnamon and apples did crazy things to his taste buds. "Why ... it’s positively sinful."

"Dude!" Callie pointed at him. "You just quoted -"

"Ever After." Finn closed his eyes. "Go ahead ... poke fun at me."

Amused, Callie shook her head. "Nah, it’s too easy."

Finn took another large bite of the dessert. "You’re not eating?"

"Not hungry," replied Callie.

"You’ve lost a lot of weight. Too much, really." Finn studied her face, which looked suddenly unhappy and haunted. "I mean, you’re gorgeous, obviously, but you just ... you were more *you* before."

"Amen!" Melana agreed, putting a glass of orange juice on the table in front of her daughter.

Finishing up the pie, Finn took his plate to the sink and lifted the bag that he had brought. Pulling out a round object wrapped in newspaper, he set it down in front of Callie. "I thought you’d like this."

Melana took Gucci and retrieved his diaper, leaving without another word. Callie pulled the newspaper off the parcel to reveal a garden stone. There were ferrets engraved all around the edges and she gasped. "Finn, this is beautiful."

"I hope you like the verse. I don’t know if you’re religious, but ... I’ve always liked it."

"Like the graceful butterfly, my soul has just changed form. My time had come, I had to leave, I'm in God's arms so do not grieve. Brought on the wings of butterflies, I'm safe back home in paradise," she read, her eyes filling with tears. Getting to her feet, she hugged him. "Thank you. I know exactly where to bury him and this is the perfect headstone."

Finn rubbed her back, thinking that she smelled far too good ... which was a shock considering that she had slept with a dog whose flatulence had been a constant source of agony for him at work. "You’re welcome. I’m really sorry that you lost your friend."

She stepped back a little, her hands still on his shoulders. "You gave me a new one."

All Alex saw was Finn Dandridge’s hands on Callie’s hips in a way that was far too friendly in his opinion. He purposely made noise when he set the large vase of yellow and red roses on the counter, causing it to thud. "Finn, right? I’m Alex."

"I think we met briefly." Finn extended his hand. "It’s nice to see you again."

Alex clasped the other man’s hand as if it pained him to do so. "Yeah. So ..." He looked at Callie, clearly demanding an explanation. "What’s going on?"

A line appeared in Finn’s forehead when Callie’s shoulders slumped. He watched her put her hands in her pockets and glanced back at Alex, who was glaring at her. "I brought the ferret back with some pretty bad news. I think he was poisoned. I’m still waiting on the lab to confirm it, but I’m fairly certain that’s what happened. Speaking of which, Callie, is the person responsible for this going to pose a threat to the dog or to ... the monkey?"

"No," Callie assured him. "They’re fine."

Alex clenched his jaw. The truth hit him like a sledgehammer. He had gone to the hotel to confront his mother about the video and demanded that she tell him the truth about Fratelli, but she had clammed up and said nothing further, prompting him to leave even angrier than he had arrived. "He’s taking the dog back today, right?"

Callie finally met her husband’s eyes. "I told you that I am keeping it."

"Alex," Melana said, walking into the kitchen as if she had not been eavesdropping. "Can you come and help me? I can’t open my suitcase and I need my medication."

"That thing attacked me, Callie. I don’t want it here." Storming from the room, Alex headed to the spare bedroom Mel was using.

"He was bitten?" Finn asked, touching Callie on the arm.

"He had it coming," Callie replied, pushing her hair off her face.

Unless Finn was mistaken, there was an almost faded bruise on her cheek and one under her eye. He had not noticed earlier because that side of her face had been turned away from him, out of the sunlight, but now it was apparent. Reaching out, he lifted her chin. "He hits you."

Callie’s eyes widened. Her hand went to her cheek and she shook her head. "Someone else hit me."

He stepped closer to her and whispered, "You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe that."

"He would never -"

"I have to go," Finn cut her off. "If you need anything -"

"I’m not lying to you, Finn. Alex has never and would never-"

"Callie, don’t." He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, then pulled two more treats from his pocket. "Give this to the dog with my appreciation for a job well done. I’ll call you as soon as I know for sure about the residue on the ferret’s teeth."

Walking him to the door, Callie leaned her head against it as he pulled his coat on. "Thanks again for the headstone."

"I’ve been told I’m a good listener." Finn pulled his keys out of pocket, worrying them in his hands. "So, keep that in mind. I’ll see you later."

*~

Ten minutes later, Callie was dressed in tight running pants, a sweatshirt, and her sneakers. She secured her hair in a ponytail, grabbed her iPod and left the bedroom. She found Alex standing at the back door, gazing out at the puppy, who was returning the look from the other side of the glass. Wordlessly, she picked up the sturdy leather leash and started past her husband, but he held his ground, blocking the door. "Alex, I really don’t want to go another round with you."

"I went to see Irene." He put his hand on the doorknob just to have *something* to hang on to. "I - I feel like my mother just died so if you could cut me just a little slack ... and talk to me ... I’d really like that."

"Talk."

Taking a deep breath, he avoided looking into her eyes. He hated seeing the pain there and knowing that he had played a part in it. "She tried to deny everything, but I told her about the video and she - she couldn’t tell me why she had done it. I made it very clear to her that I love you and I love our life together. She knows, in no uncertain terms, that I don’t care if she leaves town. I want her to go because if that would make it easier for us ... I’m fine with it."

"I never asked you to pick between us. I would never-"

"I know." He glanced at her and couldn’t look away. "But if you had asked me to pick ... you would have won hands down and she understands that now."

Callie rubbed her forehead. "I’m gonna take the dog for a jog. When I get back ... we should bury Fratelli somewhere nice."

"You want some company? If you’re keeping that thing I should -"

"I don’t want company. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call him a thing." She motioned for Alex to move out of the way.

"Callie, what do I have to do?" His felt a tear drop onto his cheek and swiped it away. "Irene did this ... I didn’t. And I tried to make it right. I made her leave last night so you wouldn’t have to deal with her and today ... today I told her that she could drop off the face of the earth again for all I care. And I need you to help me. I need you to tell me that we’re gonna be okay because ... baby, you’re all I have left."

"I’m not going to lie to you."

His chin trembled and he nodded, moving away from the door. She walked past him, put the leash on the wriggling dog, and moved out of sight. Feeling shell shocked, he sat down on the couch and let the tears fall freely. A moment later, he felt a hand on his head and looked up hopefully, but it was only Melana.

"Don’t worry. There’s no arsenic in it. Thought, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted." She held out a cup of coffee and sat next to him, patting his back. "I think that the way you spoke to my daughter was worse than anything your mother said to her. You’re pissed at Irene for it, but Irene doesn’t owe Callie any loyalty ... and you do. It was uncalled for."

"I don’t know what to say anymore. I’ve said I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face."

"Oh, I’m not asking for apologies, Alex, and she’s not ready to hear it." Mel leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "As furious as I am at Raphael, I can honestly tell you that that he has never sunken to the level of calling me names in anger. Oh, I’ve called him every name in the book because *my* temper is like yours, but he never responds in kind. Callie’s not used to a man speaking that way to a woman. Her father has always taught her she’s supposed to be cherished and adored and ... you’re not doing a very good job of that." He sniffled and she glanced at him. "I’m not trying to kick you while you’re down, I just think you need to realize that Callie measures every man by her father and -"

"I would never let her almost die like he did. I’d say he’s not measuring up to *me*."

Melana said, "You don’t think she dies a little every single time you pack your bags and leave? You know, that fear you have that she’s gonna ‘fly’ is a fear that she realizes when you get angry at her. You leave, Alex. You *leave*. Who’s the real flier?"

He looked at her. She swam in and out of his vision as he openly cried. "Do you know why I leave? I leave because I *do* have a temper. I leave because I will NOT be like my father. I leave because I know that I’m going to say things to her that I can’t really take back and it’s better for me to get away from her so I don’t cross that line. You’re wrong, Mel. Me leaving her only hurts her for a little while, but if I stay and scream at her enough ... *that* will kill her. You don’t see her face when I do that. It’s horrible."

"You and I are a lot alike." Reaching down, she took his hand in both of hers. "I’d appreciate it if you never repeat what I’m about to tell you. My father beat me. Brutally. He even beat me while I was pregnant with Stavros. My mother liked to slap me and pull my hair, but my father’s beatings hurt me a lot worse. I swore to myself that I would *never* hit my kids. You have made that same oath to yourself about hitting Callie and I believe with all that I am that you would never raise a hand to her, but I also believe that leaving is taking the easy way out. You don’t conquer your demons by ignoring them or running from them ... you conquer them by standing up to them in the heat of the moment and proving that you’re as strong as your convictions. So leaving her in order to not be like your father is creating a new cycle and one day ... your son will make a promise never to leave his wife because he watched you leave his mother. Time and time again."

Alex leaned his head against her shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief when she wrapped him in a warm embrace. "I wish I had a mother like you."

"Who do you think I am, son?"

*~*~*~*~

"I’m just saying," George said, slathering his fries with ketchup, "that if you’re going to bring some random guy home can you please hang a damn towel on your door or something to let me know?"

Izzie slowly chewed her salad. "You could have knocked."

"Who is this guy?" George demanded. "What the hell was that thing he was doing? And how are you able to walk today?"

"You *know* that you can’t wait for your shift to be over so you can try your hand at it with Lexie." Izzie grinned at him. "And his name is Eros. He’s Callie’s friend from Greece and -"

"Eros? The first guy she slept with?"

"What!?"

"I was married to Callie, Iz. We talked about our sexual past."

"Gross. Do you think he was comparing us? And don’t you dare say that there is no comparison and make me feel bad. I get that she’s all hot crotched or whatever." Izzie made a face. "You never forget your first love. Do you think she -"

"He wasn’t her first love. I was."

"I have to stop sleeping in Callie’s circles because for some reason ... she always wins."

George changed the subject. "How was she? When you saw her? Were her bruises -"

"She looked good. Terrifying, but -"

"Terrifying?"

Izzie caught herself and shrugged. "You know, terrifyingly good. And rich. And well rested. She’s good."

"So, what exactly did you guys do the other night?" George glanced around them. "Is there a ghost nearby, Haley Joel Osment? Do you see dead people?"

"We are never speaking of it so don’t ask." Izzie stole a French fry. "I’ve been sworn to secrecy."

Meredith dropped into the seat next to George and stared from one to the other. "Something’s going on with Cristina."

"Something ghost-like?" asked George. "Because even a possession can’t make her more evil. I think I’ve seen her head spin all the way around a few times."

"No, Scrappy Doo," Meredith replied with a grin. "She’s not returning my calls and her car is at Burke’s apartment, but not his. They’re both gone. Like, on vacation or something."

"There’s a lot of that going around," Izzie said. "Addison and Mark. Callie and Alex. I heard Bailey’s planning to take two weeks."

"She didn’t get approved," George said. "She’s acting as Chief Resident since Sydney quit and until someone can back her up, she’s stuck. And by stuck ... I literally mean stuck. She’s stuck in the lounge for hours working on schedules and rotations and ... she’s not happy. She *hates* not getting in on as many surgeries. "

"She told you all that?" Meredith asked.

"No. She didn’t have to." George shrugged. "I heard her saying it to her husband on the phone."

"You dirty, dirty eavesdropper," replied Meredith.

"It was loud." George glanced at Izzie. "Just like our apartment last night. Izzie’s got a new boyfriend."

"GEORGE!"

Meredith propped her chin in her palm, her lunch forgotten. "You screwed the Greek God?"

Smiling secretively, Izzie nodded. "It just happened."

"Repeatedly," George intoned. "For *hours*."

"He really is a God." Opening her soda, Meredith waved a hand. "So, gimme details."

"NO!" George cried. "No details and no more talk about it."

"You brought it up. Eat and be quiet." Izzie pushed his tray closer to him, looking at Meredith. "I have *never* had that many orgasms. It was like ... one right after another and he’s so ... endowed ... that I didn’t think it would like ... fit ... or whatever."

"Ahhhhh." With a groan, George got to his feet and grabbed his tray, stalking to a nearby table where he sat with his back to them.

"Were you trying to make him leave?"

Izzie shook her head. "I was being honest. Eros is *good* in bed. And he’s good out of bed and he’s gonna go back to Greece eventually so I have to stop thinking about that. I probably won’t see him again. I mean -"

"Hmm." Meredith’s eyes twinkled. "I think you will."

"No, no ... he didn’t say anything. A guy that good looking probably has a one night stand of the week club and -"

"Hello, Izzie."

Frozen, Izzie looked at Meredith, who greeted Eros and got to her feet, carrying her lunch to George’s table. Izzie saw her best friend turn, look Eros up and down, and quickly turn away.

"May I join you?" Eros asked, his accent thicker than she remembered.

"Oh, Jesus ... I’m so rude. Please ... please sit down." Izzie got to her feet and pulled his chair out, then put a hand over her face. "I’m acting like a man ... I’m sorry."

He took her chair and guided her into it, scooting it in for her. "You seem ... odd. You did invite me to stop here and see you. Did you think I wouldn’t? That perhaps my ... one night stand of the week club ... had rules that prevented it? I’m a little shocked, if I can be honest. A woman who looks like you should be the last person alive who would engage in such stereotypes. You’re just as nice looking as me."

"I’m sorry."

"You’re also very quick to apologize when you’ve done nothing truly wrong." He reached across the table, pointing at her can of Coke. "May I?"

"Yeah, sure." She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down and his strong muscular neck ripple as he sipped her drink.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, love? Well, not me exactly. Melana reserved part of a restaurant for a gathering tonight. Raphael, Cam, and Blake are flying to Miami tomorrow morning so it’s a farewell party of sorts. I would be honored if you would accompany me."

"Did you make sure that was okay? Callie’s parents don’t really like me."

"Because you slept with Callie’s ex-husband? Yes, I know. Raphael told me." Eros took her hand in his. "Did you perchance apologize for *that*?"

"Repeatedly?" she assured him. "But -"

"Raphael also told me that after Callie’s attack, you helped bathe her and have been a friend to her. One thing that the Torres’ family prides itself on is the ability to forgive and forget. I should very much like for Melana to get to know you."

"Why?"

He smiled at her. "Because my mother is her best friend. And when I call home to say that I’ve obtained work at Seattle Grace and met the perfect woman ... my mother will quiz Mel and I want her to be able to say that the woman I met is as beautiful as a picture and just as pleasant."

"Wait ... you’re ... you’re staying here? You found work?"

"Callie arranged for me to meet with Chief Webber. Apparently I can utilize my skills as a massage therapist here." He beamed with pride. "I confess myself excited and a bit apprehensive. I begin at once."

Impulsively, she leaned closer and kissed him. "I confess myself excited and very convinced of your capabilities. You did demonstrate massage, after all."

"All over, if memory serves." Cupping her cheek, he nuzzled her neck. "Will you dine with me?"

"Absolutely."

"And would you be so kind as to give me a tour of this facility? Chief Webber assured me that you would."

With a twinkle in her eye, Izzie got to her feet. "We’ll start with the on call room. Just wait until you see what it has to offer."

*~*~*~*~

"Where’s Callie?"

Alex had been staring at the television, not really seeing anything on the screen. Cambyses stood in the doorway of the guest room, glaring at him. "She took the dog for a walk earlier."

"What time?"

Checking his watch, Alex slipped off the bed. "About two hours ago. I didn’t realize so much time had gone by."

Pulling out his cell phone, Cam dialed her number, then swore when he heard it ring in the master bedroom. He checked, just to make sure she wasn’t there, then stalked down the hallway with Alex on his heels. "Mom! Dad! I’m going to look for Cal."

"She’s in the backyard." Raphael pointed out the kitchen window, smiling at whatever he was seeing.

Cam and Alex joined him. Callie was wrestling with the puppy, tugging on a rope while he pulled the other end. As they watched, the dog let go and Callie toppled backwards, coming up laughing when the dog leaped on her and pushed her back down. The dog’s head was already larger than her own and when it lifted a paw and she caught it, they saw that its foot spilled out on either side of her palm. She leaned her head close, animatedly talking to the dog, who sat down, rolled over, then pounced on her again. Callie picked up a ball and threw it and with a bark of pure delight, the shot out after it and brought it back, standing on his back legs while he waited for her to take it. She threw it again and bent down to tie her shoe. When the dog barreled into her again, she went flying.

Alex and Cam both darted out the back door, but she was laughing again and the dog was so happy to see Cam that it left her alone long enough for Alex to help her to her feet. She muttered a dismissive ‘thanks’ and wiped off her pants, as Cam tossed the ball for the puppy, who bounded off after it.

Plucking a piece of grass off her sweatshirt, Alex said, "Your mom has a big dinner planned tonight at that new restaurant near the Archfield. Would you mind taking a drive with me before it starts?"

"I have to get a shower."

"Okay." He hated the fact that she didn’t look his way. "Well, there’s plenty of time so ... if you want to take one now we could still-"

Shaking her head, Callie said, "I don’t want to."

Alex opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she walked toward the house and disappeared inside. Dejected, he slumped down on the glider, his head in his hands. A few minutes later, she came back out carrying a large bowl full of food. She whistled and set it down, "C’mon, Chunk."

"Chunk?" Alex tried to give her a genuine smile. "Is everything going to be named after ‘The Goonies’?"

"Oh, shit." Callie stopped petting the dog and looked at him. "We have to bury Fratelli."

"Yeah." Nodding, he pointed toward the back of the yard. "I dug the hole already. Behind the bench that we put in. If that’s not okay then we can -"

"No, that’s fine. That’s where I was going to put him." The dog had scarfed down his food in record time and stood watching her expectantly. She grinned and opened the back door, glancing at Cam. "Can you watch him for a few minutes?"

"I’m on Uncle duty." Kissing his sister, Cam glanced at Alex. "And you better be on your best behavior, Alex, because I *will* let the dog out if you start yelling again."

Alex simply turned and walked across the backyard, retrieving the ferret from the freezer in the garage. When he came back, Callie was holding the headstone that Finn had given her. As much as he hated the reason behind it, he was grateful for the chance to get her alone. They walked down the same path they had taken the previous night, but this time he reached out and took her hand. "I’m sorry this happened."

"You didn’t do it." The feel of his hand on hers felt so familiar, so right, that she didn’t pull away.

Bolstered by the fact that she was letting him touch her, he said, "Then I’m sorry for all the times I took Fratelli and left. I never should have done that."

"I don’t want to talk about it." They arrived at the small clearing and she felt a lump in her throat when she saw the mound of dirt and the shovel leaning against the tree. "Do you think he suffered?"

"I doubt it. He probably just went to sleep."

"I’m sure it hurt. He was *poisoned*, Alex."

He set the bowl that contained Fratelli’s body on the bench and, still holding her hand, pulled her against him. They stood that way until Callie pulled away, dried her eyes, and took the ferret’s favorite hammock from the front pocket of her hoodie. Opening the lid, she laid it over the sable colored body and rubbed him on the ear. "Sleep well, little one."

Alex, who had cried enough to last a lifetime that day, felt his eyes fill once more. He watched her snap the lid back in place and put it in the hole. When she reached for the shovel, he stopped her. "I got it."

With a small nod, she gathered a few rocks. By the time she had enough, the hole had been filled in and Alex was putting the headstone in place. She laid several large rocks beside it to prevent the puppy from digging it up, and nodded. "I should go take a shower."

"Wait. Just give me five minutes." He nervously took a step toward her, praying that he wouldn’t fumble what he needed desperately to say. "I am a lot like my father ... but I’m not *exactly* like him, Gothika, because my dad never loved anyone except himself. I’ve never loved anyone except you. I know that my temper gets the better of me. I know that I’m a bastard, but I’m a bastard who wants to spend the rest of his life with you and if it takes me that long to make you believe me again ... then I’ll do it."

"You’re gonna have you’re work cut out for you."

"I’ve been working most of my life."

"Is that all you wanted to say?"

"One more thing ... it would be a damn crying shame to lose us. Our story may be screwed up and unpredictable, but I want to tell it to our kids. When they ask how we fell in love ... I want to say that I looked at you one day and saw them in your eyes. Because I did, Callie. That day at the hospital, when I told you about George and Izzie, you looked at me and I *knew*. It thought it was hurt that I was looking at there ... but it was an invitation to love you and I am not letting that go."

Her jaw tightened. "Am I supposed to be moved?"

He simply gazed at her.

"Is there anything else?" she asked, sounding bored.

He looked at the ground instead of her stony face. "I guess not."

She walked off.

He watched her until she was out of sight, then he sat down to say his own goodbyes to Fratelli.

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie showered and changed for dinner, donning a dark brown dress her father had given her for her birthday. It wasn’t something she would have chosen for herself, but the feel of the soft, expensive material against her skin and the view of her body being accentuated just so made her feel much, much better. It was a feminine sexy dress, not a hooker sexy dress and she felt gorgeous in it. She let her hair curl naturally and made sure her makeup was subtle, hoping that the softer appearance would overshadow the apparent anger on her features. She wanted to be swayed by Alex’s words, by his tears, but all she felt was a block of ice in her chest that sweet words and an ocean of regret could not thaw.

She was putting her high heels on when Alex knocked on the door. It was open, but he alerted her to his presence without stepping into what used to be their safe haven. "I need to get my clothes."


The block of ice in her chest slammed against her ribs. "You can pack after I leave."

He blinked a couple of times. "I’m not packing. I just ... I need to change for dinner."

"Oh." Standing, she smoothed her dress down and reached for her earrings. When she looked at him, he was watching her intently. "I’m gonna -"

"You look beautiful."

"I’m gonna," she repeated firmly, "go walk the dog."

"Cam just did it."

"You don’t have to go tonight," she said. "My family is not thrilled with you and you’re not thrilled with them so -"

"I have apologized to your parents and to Cambyses. Your mom and I had a long talk today and we’re okay. We actually understand each other a little better."

"I’m glad someone understands you. It looks like she may be single soon. Why don’t you -"

"Don’t, Callie."

Turning from him, she plucked a necklace from her jewelry box and stalked away. In the living room, she held it out to her brother and he fastened it for her. She saw her parents standing on the back patio and she didn’t need to hear their conversation to know that it was tense. Melana had one hand on her hip and one finger nearly touching her husband’s nose. She saw the tight line in her brother’s jaw and said, "Let’s take a walk."

"You look too pretty to channel evil." Cam told her, his voice purposely light. With an impish grin, he lifted his fist. "Wonder twin power. Activate." When she didn’t respond, he poked her in the ribs. "It only works if you do it with me."

She led him into the front yard, looping her arm through his. "I don’t want you to go."

"I need the sun." He glanced up at the overcast sky. "I may look like ‘The Crow’, but the dreariness and rain of Seattle is making me crazy. I want to bask, get sunburned, and possibly surf."

"You don’t surf."

"After what we just went through, I need good, clean, wholesome fun."

"A shark will eat you."

His smile faded. "Then I’ll stay on my beach towel and watch the lifeguards."

"That’s not wholesome."

"The *girl* lifeguards. They’re gross. I’ll make fun of their big, fake boobies and point out that they don’t need flotation devices with them."

"Will you snap your fingers, roll your neck, and say ‘girlfriend, please’?"

He did just that.

Callie laughed and sat down on the wooden swing that overlooked the water. Cam stood behind her, softly pushing her and she closed her eyes, revisiting the past. He had always been the one to push while she swung to and fro. "Our parents are not okay, Cam."

"Are you?"

"Is my bright, shiny disposition not convincing?"

"No." He stopped that swing and pulled her around to face him. "Talk to me."

Sometimes it was like looking in a mirror when she looked at him. If she couldn’t be honest with herself ... who could she be honest with? Taking a deep breath, she leaned her head against the rope and said, "I can’t have *two* failed marriages. I just ... can’t. But I also can’t live with this ... uncertainty ... anymore."

"Uncertainty?"

"I know Alex loves me," she stated firmly. "I know he’s sorry and that he would take back a majority of what he said to me. I know that he would do anything I asked him to do right now because he’s trying to make it up to me ... but as soon as he gets comfortable ... as soon as we’re okay ... when I piss him off again and I will ... he’s going to become someone I don’t like."

"Who does he become?"

"When we separated over the air show," she said, "He walked up to me in the hallway in front of his interns and mine and said that I had prescribed the wrong medication to a patient. I knew that it wasn’t me and I tried to tell him that and he called me stupid. Loud."

"He actually said ‘you’re stupid’?"

"What he actually said was ‘you’re stupid as hell, Callie, maybe you should apply for the janitor’s job’." Her eyes met Cam’s. "And I forgave him for that because I had lied to him about the air show and he was justifiably angry, but I didn’t do anything this time and once again ... he was leaving me. That hurts ... but what hurts the most is that he needed to see a fucking video of his mother saying exactly what I said she did for him to believe me."

"He called you STUPID!?" Cam cried, enraged.

"Can you please catch up? That was actually the nicest thing he said to me during that time." She gave him a smile, but it was only a sad, sardonic turn of her lips. "He also said that he regretted meeting me, that I was a crazy slut, and that marrying me was a bigger mistake than John Lennon made by marrying Yoko Ono."

"OH NO HE DIDN’T!"

"You’re so ghetto fabulous."

"Say the word and I’ll make him leave."

"I never should have made him watch ‘Dreamgirls’. He keeps saying ‘I’m not going’. He’s got his heels dug in this time."

"Then I’ll break him from the feet up." He took both of her hands in his. "This whole unholy alliance between a jock and a Goth may have been a horrible idea. Don’t get me wrong, I genuinely love the guy, but you’re not someone for him to wrestle with and I don’t think he got the memo."

"He doesn’t get physical with me, Cam!"

"They don’t hit in wrestling, either," he replied. "But he pins you every time he snaps and you’re gonna stop struggling eventually and break."

"George broke me and I said that no one would do it again. I meant it. I’m living my life on *my* terms now." She slipped off the swing when she saw her parents walk down the front steps. Alex was behind them, looking like a little lost boy. "It’s up to him if he can live with those terms."

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie purposely hung back as everyone took their seats. The only people who had not RSVP’d for dinner from their little group were Burke and Cristina, leaving two empty chairs. When Alex sat down beside Melana and looked at her expectantly, she walked to the end of the table and flopped down beside Izzie, proving once and for all that she was pissed enough to go *there*. Addison, who was sitting across from Alex raised her hands as if to say ‘what are you doing?’, but Callie looked away, taking in the chic ambiance of the overpriced restaurant. It was definitely modern and youthful. She didn’t realize that her gaze had wandered to the bar until the bartender waved to her and held up a shot.

Giving him a smile, she shook her head and laughed when he manipulated the bottles in a way that would have put Tom Cruise to shame in ‘Cocktail’. When he dropped one and playfully pointed at her like she had caused it ... she chuckled, thoroughly amused. A moment later, he walked toward her and her eyes widened. He extended his hand and said, "Dr. Torres, do you remember me?"

Putting her hand in his, she tried to place him. "I’m sorry, my memory is horrible."

He held up his hand, which was missing a finger. "Hockey player. You couldn’t save it after I got stuck in the net. You worked on me with a really short guy who had bad hair."

"OH!" She got to her feet and gave him a hug. "Kyle, right? How are you!?"

"Bartending. No hockey here." Smiling, he leaned a little closer. "And I only drop the bottles when a gorgeous woman is watching me so closely." He glanced around the crowded table and blushed. "I better get back. It was nice to see you again."

"Likewise." She sat back down and put her napkin in her lap, aware that all eyes were on her.

Izzie, who was also aware that the situation had become awkward as hell, reached out and touched Callie’s sleeve. "This dress is so pretty. I like the color. It’s deeper than Latte, but not like ... Hershey. It’s better."

"I heard that," Addison snarled. "Don’t talk crap about Latte! All of you looked great on my wedding day in your LATTE dresses."

Melana cleared her throat, no longer looking at Callie. Her brown eyes found Izzie and her face hardened. "It’s wonderful that you could join us, Dr. Stevens. I’m truly happy that you’re not wearing a stethoscope tonight or my daughter could find herself mangled again. The scar you left her is impressive."

All idle chatter halted.

Izzie swallowed hard. "You can’t see the scar on my jaw, but Callie really gave me the ability to control it."

"I put it in place," Callie replied, leaning into Izzie with a smile. "And we earned ourselves quite the reputation as bad asses so I think it’s an even trade."

"They call you Callie Tyson," said Izzie.

"Eww." Callie wrinkled her nose. "I didn’t bite your ear! I don’t like gristle."

Everyone laughed and the tense moment passed.

"Thanks," Izzie whispered to Callie.

"Don’t worry about it. You have Eros looking at you like he’s a virgin at a peep show and that doesn’t sit well with my mom. It makes you the enemy."

"I thought hitting her daughter did that," Izzie pointed out.


"No, stealing my husband did that ... she just hasn’t brought it up yet."

"Stop monopolizing my date," Eros said, grinning at Callie. "Otherwise I’ll swear that your fight was a lover’s quarrel."

"You’re onto us," Callie replied. "You got the job at the hospital, right?"

"I did. I start tomorrow." Eros puffed up proudly. "I’m so excited."

"I’ll give you a tour," assured Callie. "I’m going back tomorrow, too."

"I need it," Eros replied. "I’ve only seen the on call room."

Derek choked on his water.

Izzie turned tomato red.

Alex spoke up for the first time. "Tomorrow? Cal, you’re supposed to be off for another week."

"I was." With a shrug, Callie met his eye. "But, Chief Webber called and asked me to come back. Bailey wants a vacation and we need to train together so I can cover for her."

"Are you ready to go back?" Cambyses asked, looking concerned.

Melana didn’t let her daughter reply. "You do not need the added stress of a new job. You -"

Callie cut across her, talking to Derek. "How’s your arm?"

Shepherd looked at Mel, then at Callie. "Uh, fine. Totally better."

"That’s because you were in the middle of the pentagram." Callie wiggled her eyebrow. "You were surrounded by so much positive energy that it helped cure your recent wounds."

"But it gave you really bad wounds," Meredith pointed out.

Callie dismissed the notion. "Do you see them now? It only uses my blood as an offering. If I’m willing to bleed then my intentions are pure."

"That is *not* proper dinner discussion, Calliope." Mel pointed her finger down the table. "You stop that. Now!"

The waiter arrived and everyone rambled off their orders. Callie simply asked for a salad, causing everyone to protest, but she refused to change it and turned her attention back to the bar, where the bottles were now singing a loud, rousing symphony in her head. It had her full attention and it kept it until her mother’s voice shattered the last refrain. Leaning forward, she glanced down the table where her father was once again feeling Melana’s wraith. The desire to get up, grab a bottle, and down the contents just to stop the insanity was almost too strong to resist. If she did it ... maybe her Mother would just ... shut ... up.

Kyle caught her attention again by juggling three large bottles and she knew that if he dropped one ... she would gladly brave the glass shards to lick it off the floor. Getting to her feet, she put her purse over her shoulder and headed to the restroom. A thin sheen of sweat was coating her back and she wet a stack of tissue, pressing it against her neck. When the door banged open, she almost jumped out of her skin. "Jesus, Addison!"

"What are you doing?"

"I’m hot."

"Yeah, having eye sex with strange bartenders can have that effect." She pointed at the tissue. "Why don’t you put it between your legs!?"

"WHAT!?"

"How can you openly flirt in front of Alex?"

"Flirt!?" Callie felt her blood pressure sky rocket. "I am flirting with the *bottles* behind the bar. I’m having eye sex with the bourbon!"

"Callie, Jesus Christ!" Addison threw her hands in the air. "When are you gonna stop this shit!? I don’t get it! Help me get it!"

"I told you about the water that Xeno sent me and -"

"I call bullshit!" Nostrils flaring, Addy shook her head. "Don’t blame the island. This is *you*. You didn’t have a single drop of alcohol for *months*. Do you want to know what I think? I think it’s convenient. Your alcohol problem is convenient. You use it to punish people when they piss you off! You use it every time you fuck up because it gets the attention off the shit you do and onto your ‘problem’."

"Addison!"

"Every time you get butt hurt ... you want to drink!"

"I am not butt hurt!" Callie snapped. "I do have a problem."


Gripping her arm, Addison tugged her in front of the mirror and pointed at her reflection. "Yeah. There it it!"

"Go to h-"

"Stop!" Addison yelled. "Don’t you get it!? You have a great life, Callie. Yeah, Alex called you a bitch, but you know what? You *are* the bitch who has put him through hell time and time again. You were a basket case when the two of you got together and he stuck by you. He hung in there for the liver problems, for the crazy, and he held you together when you couldn’t. And you break up with him for telling you the truth!?"

"I didn’t break up with him for calling me a bitch! You don’t know what -"

"I don’t want to know! Because I don’t care! You are, once again, trying to cut your nose off to spite your face! What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"You don’t know shit!"

"No! You don’t!" Addison shook her head. "You have a family who adores you, friends who love you, and a husband who worships the ground you walk on. Do you understand what you do to us all every single time you show your ass?! Well!? Do you!?"

"Are you going to let me get a word in edgewise now or what!?"

Standing up straight and proud, Addison said, "No, I’m not."

"God damn it! Get the fuck out!"

"Gladly!"

Callie watched her best friend storm from the bathroom. She took a few minutes to gather herself before she ventured into the crowded restaurant, but she couldn’t bring herself to return to the table. Instead, she headed for the front door. Alex had driven her car and valet had her keys so she hailed a cab and told him to drive. Thirty minutes later, she left the liquor store with three small bottles in her oversized purse. Hell bent on living up to the failure that everyone believed her to be, she unlocked the front door and headed for the kitchen to get ice.

Chunk howled when he saw her and she opened his crate. He followed her, nudging her and demanding attention. Another thirty minutes of fighting him off and laughing at his antics had her forgetting all about the alcohol in her purse. She changed clothes, washed her face and climbed into the bed. The puppy rolled onto his back, looking at her with pitiful eyes and she relented, rubbing his belly. She was dozing in no time flat.

*~

Alex opened the bedroom door and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that she was there. Chunk lifted his head and whined in greeting so Alex walked forward, patting his overgrown head to quiet him. The light from the hallway was enough for him to see Callie’s face and she looked so soft, so peaceful, that he leaned down and kissed her full, parted lips. Relief washed over him when he smelled her toothpaste and nothing more sinister. He had expected to find the room littered with bottles. When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open and she blinked.

"Is she okay?" Raphael asked from the doorway.

"Daddy?" Callie sat up and looked at him.

"Alex, would you mind walking the dog?" Raphael shot his son in law a look and waited until he left the room with Chunk before he switched on the bedside lamp and lifted Callie’s hand. "You didn’t have to leave, baby. It wasn’t going to get ugly between your mother and I."

"It’s been ugly for days." Callie rubbed her eyes and pulled him down on the bed, where he sat facing her. "Are you really leaving her here?"

"I don’t really want to kidnap her. Your mother in all her fury could make the jet seem awfully small." Reaching up, he unfastened the clasp on her necklace and laid it on the end table. "I’m sorry that you have to deal with the problem I created. I don’t think she’ll take it out on you, but she could."

"It’s been a while since she told me off. I’m expecting it any day now."

Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek. "I don’t want to leave you either, honey. I don’t feel right about it."

"Then tell her that and stay."

"Your mother has to learn that I always give her what she wants. Always. And she told me to leave."

"She didn’t mean it!"

"That’s not the point. Maybe if she has some time alone she’ll realize that we’re too good together to be apart."

"I hate to think of you staying in that big house by yourself." She adjusted his collar and made a face. "I mean, who’s going to pick out your clothes? You need to burn this tie, Daddy."

"Stavros gave it to me."

"Was he pissed when he did it?"

"You’re not funny." He smiled at her. "Are you going to be okay? That husband of yours is taking this hard. Your breakup, I mean. He didn’t say more than four words during dinner."

"I don’t care."

He lifted her chin. "I don’t believe that. You aren’t letting him win by forgiving him. Punish him for a while if you must, but anger makes a very cold bed fellow and you’ve always preferred warmer climates."

"And you think if I forgive Alex then Mom will take note and forgive you. Right?" She grinned knowingly.

"I am a very wise man."

Nodding, Callie took a deep breath. A comfortable silence passed over them for a couple of minutes before she spoke again. "You know what? I don’t regret anything that we did with FMC. It wasn’t wrong and I don’t believe that you should pay for it like this."

"I should have included her. Your mother would have been breathtaking if I had given her the chance to help us." His chin trembled and he looked away. "I guess hindsight really is twenty twenty."

Her heart aching for him, she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Don’t worry. I’ll talk you up every day."

"You better."

Twenty minutes later, Callie watched her father kiss her mother on the forehead and cup her cheek. Neither spoke as they looked at one another and Callie turned away, unable to see the pain on either face. She was staring at a photo of herself and Alex over the mantle when she heard the front door click shut. Closing her eyes, she prayed that her mother had gone with him, but when she looked back ... Mel was standing with her arms against her side and her head down. The lights from the limo shined into the room as it backed away and still ... Mel didn’t move, though she had fisted her hands tightly as if clinging to a land line that would keep her rooted in one spot. The security alarm beeped once, to alert them to the fact that the gate had opened, then it beeped twice, ensuring that it had closed and locked. Mel’s jaw tightened and she lifted her hands to her chest. Callie knew this part well ... her mother was checking to make sure her heart was still there. A moment later, Mel announced that she was going to bed and stalked down the hallway.

Callie walked to the kitchen, where she retrieved a bottle of water, then she dug through her mother’s purse until she found her valium. Glancing at the clock, she hurried to the guest bathroom where she wet a washcloth ... then she stood outside her mother’s bedroom ... waiting for what was inevitable. Alex opened the door to the bedroom he was using and looked out at her. Chunk stood beside him, watching her curiously.

"What are you doing?" He walked toward her, then stopped when he heard Melana begin to sob. It was the most pitiful, broken sound that he had ever experienced. Nothing in the hospital, no amount of pain or grief he had heard could come close. "Callie -"

"That’s what leaving sounds like." Callie glared at him. "I do it just a little bit louder and rarely make it to the bed, but it’s the same. Every single time."

She opened the door and joined her mother.

He stood in the hall and listened. Not because he wanted to ... but because the mental image of Callie in her mother’s shoes rendered him incapable of moving at all.

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 17

Dedicated: To my Smore, my Yoda, and my Caddie. You know who you are. :)
*~*~*~*~*
Cristina sat on the front porch of the new house. In her right hand, she held a coffee cup, but it was her left hand that held her attention. The moon was only half full, but it was enough to reflect over the water and she could see the simple wedding band clearly. It felt like it weighed a ton. She had little doubt that if she rushed into the water ... it would carry her to the very bottom and hold her there. She was a *newlywed* and she should have been inside the house with her head on her husband’s shoulder instead of sitting outside at four in the morning thinking things that should not be thought of.

Burke had decided to announce during dinner that his parents would be arriving that weekend and Cristina had been overcome with the desire to run, to paste plastic guards over her eyebrows, and to put her foot down and insist that they not come at all in no particular order. The house was Cristina’s domain and she had a horrible mental image of Mama rearranging things or judging her for marrying the incomparable Preston Burke. An annulment wouldn’t really be so bad, she reasoned. It wasn’t like a divorce exactly so her mother would not have to commit herself into the hospital for observation. And Mama Burke ... well, she would have no real reason to come for a visit if they ended it quickly.

Something rustled in the woods and she turned her head that way, listening intently. While she did *not* think that Burke had shipped in the bears that made her grandfather’s house so picturesque, whatever it was sounded big ... and it was breathing hard. Getting to her feet, she picked up the flashlight she had brought outside and held it over her head. A smart person would have gone inside, but Cristina decided that if it *was* a bear ... at least death would be swift and the flashlight would give the illusion that she had put up a valiant effort to remain alive.

And married.

MARRIED!

Stepping off the porch, she braced herself for impact when she heard a familiar voice.

"Holy Hell, Chunk! Slow down!"

"Callie!?"

"AHHHH! Stay! Sit! NO! NO! LOOK OUT, CRISTINA!"

A dog, large and brown, burst out of the woods and leaped on Cristina, knocking her on the ground where it proceeded to lick every inch of her face. Stunned, she surrendered to the tongue bath until her friend jogged from the woods and pulled the puppy off her. Wiping her face with the sleeve of her robe, Cristina looked up at the other woman. "What the *fuck* are you doing in the woods with a Shetland pony?"

"This is Chunk." Callie rubbed the puppy on the head and ordered him to sit down, which he did, still panting from his jog. "I couldn’t sleep so I decided to come and see the house. Burke told us about it, but we didn’t want to interrupt the builders by coming to take a peek."

Cristina accepted the hand that Callie extended and got to her feet. "Everyone knew except me."

"Not everyone. You’re officially a missing person. Meredith is worried sick about you." Grinning, Callie pointed at the water hose on the side of the house. "Do you mind if I give him something to drink?"

"Not at all." Wrinkling her nose, Cristina watched as the dog slobbered at the trickle from the hose pipe. "That is a hideous excuse for a dog. It’s like ... steroid Scooby."

"Don’t talk shit about my dog. Or Scooby. I will jack you up." Callie waited patiently for the puppy to drink his fill, then shut the water off. "So, what’s new. You’re hiding out from everyone and -"

"I got married and I want to undo it because Mama is coming to town on Friday and that’s like ... Frieda Krueger with a shaving fetish." Cristina blurted. "Help me undo this."

Callie blinked a few times, stunned. "You’re married?"

Yang held up her left hand to illustrate her point. "Mama is *coming*. Hold on to your eyebrows, people, it’s going to be a bumpy ride."

"You’re *married*! Congratulations!"

"No! Don’t congratulate me! Tell me how to get out of it!"

"You want out of it?"

"I want to not deal with in laws. I have *in* laws, Callie. Why can’t I have a stroke to paralyze the part of my brain that they affect?"

"If you find out how to do that ... clue me in. I’m two seconds away from a drug overdose to get away from Alex’s *mama*."

Startled, Cristina held her coffee out to the other woman. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Yes," Callie replied, taking the cup. "More than you know."

"Come on. I told my grandfather all kinds of secrets on a porch just like this one." Leading the way, Yang flopped down on the swing and patted the spot beside her. "I’d let you sit in my lap, but I think the dog would get jealous."

"Chunk, lie down."

The dog did as he was told, putting his massive jowls on his paws as he stretched out on his belly. Cristina couldn’t hide her amusement. "You’re whipped by a slobbery bucket of fluffy mange."

"He’s no fluffier than you, freak." Looking out at the water, Callie said, "You’re *married*. I’d say you’re fairly whipped yourself."

"We are truly not talking about me right now. What’s going on with you and Irene?"

It took almost thirty minutes to fill Cristina in on all the gory details, mostly because the younger woman’s temper got the better of her and she kept interjecting new and exciting ways to kill Irene. And Alex. By the time the story was finished, Callie was in tears and Cristina looked torn by whether or not to run away from the blubbering or console her. She settled on patting her shoulder and saying, "I’ll kick him in the balls for you. I promise."

Callie wiped her face. "You don’t think I’m wrong?"

"Even if I did, I’m not saying it. You just told me that you did some kind of black magic to lock Alex in one spot. I’m scared of you."

"Stop that and tell me the truth!"

"Can you do a truth spell?"

Callie glared at her. "No, but I can make your cookie box close up like it’s allergic to Burke’s -"

"Don’t even speak it. You win." Cristina shook her head. "Newlywed sex is incredible."

"I wouldn’t know." Callie sighed. "Is there something wrong with me? Do I make it easy for men to walk in and out of my life? I feel like I’m not worth fighting for or -"

"Okay, whoa. You can’t measure what you’re worth by a man. You have to measure *you* and the last time I checked ... there are no men on this planet worth more than a good woman. And you are. Good, I mean." Cristina patted her shoulder again, then put an arm around her. "We’re a lot alike. We’re natural cynics, but this time ... you have a right to be cynical when Alex says he won’t leave again. How many times has he left now? It’s the easiest thing in the world for him to say it’s the last time, but he seems hell bent on proving that it’s all talk."

Callie raised a brow. "That was incredibly deep."

"I’m buzzed on caffeine."

"What should I do?"

"To sound really cliché and like a bad country song ... love him or leave him. Because making yourself crazy by staying in the middle is no way to live."

"My mother is thinking the same thing. She broke up with my dad."

Cristina clapped a hand over her mouth. "SHUT UP! That sounded like English you were speaking, but there is NO way it was."

"It’s not pretty, which is why I’m going back to work early. My mother stayed here with me and my dad’s back in Florida. Or ... he will be soon. His plane is leaving today." She looked at Cristina. "Did you say Mama Burke is coming on Friday?"

"Yep."

"You’re in luck." Callie sniffled, drying the last of the tears she would let herself cry. "I’m training with Bailey this week because she’s taking a vacation for Thanksgiving and I happen to know that we’re going to be working on the schedule. I’m pretty sure I’ll need you to work this weekend, Dr. Yang. All weekend."

Cristina’s smile was so large it looked painful. "I love you. I’m like ... IN... love with you. Don’t curse me for saying that."

"Quit it."

"You’re a devil worshipper."

"I AM NOT!"

"Can you, like, give people blinding boils? Do you have cat bones buried in your yard or -"

"Ass."

"Ever done a love spell?"

"Shut up."

"You could make Irene fall in love with Sydney Heron or something."

"Eww." Callie laughed. It was the first time in forever that she genuinely felt it. "Bite me."

"What flavor is witch?"

They laughed together until the sun started to rise.

By the time Callie stretched and headed back down the path ... Cristina no longer wanted to end her new marriage. And she had a strong suspicion that Callie was going to fight hard, and perhaps with voodoo, to hang onto hers as well.

*~*~*~*~

"How is your day going, Mrs. Sloan?" Mark asked, sliding his lunch tray next to his wife’s.

"Montgomery-Sloan." Addison corrected her husband absently. "I ordered my new physician’s coats today. Four in all. Four that say Addison Montgomery-Sloan."

"They’re going to look really funny with a patch over Montgomery. Or, you know, I could just scribble it out with a black Sharpie." Mark frowned when he followed her line of vision. Callie looked like she was having a heated argument with Irene, who had her hands on her hips and was red faced. "I wonder what that’s about?"

"Maybe she found a flask in Callie’s pocket. Who knows?"

"At some point ... you will have to talk to her."

Addison, who was poking at her lunch with a fork, kept her eyes on Callie and ignored Mark. The black haired resident was clearly upset and only carried a bottle of water to the cash register. After she paid, she joined Bailey, her back to the cafeteria at large. "She’s not eating again. What do you think is going on with her and Irene?"

"Why don’t you act like a big girl and go over there and sit with them?" Mark smiled at her. "Because she’s obviously not going to make the first move."

"Neither am I."

"Addy, you don’t even know what happened with Alex. If he called her anything close to what he called her to me ... she has every right to be pissed." He put his hand on hers. "You should cut her some slack. Her parents are waging a third world war, Cuba against Greece with a few of the states representing, and she’s caught up in a battle of her own with Alex. She’s catching it from all sides so -"

"Don’t defend her."

Their conversation was cut short when Derek strolled into the cafeteria and flopped into the chair beside Addison. "I came to have lunch with Meredith. You know ... to surprise her because she wasn’t expecting me. And ... she’s out there in the corridor talking to Finn. *Finn*!"

Mark looked confused. "You can talk to your ex, but she can’t talk to hers?"

"I didn’t date my ex at the same time I was -" Trailing off, Derek had to chuckle. "Well, okay, maybe I did."

"You had skanky prom sex," Addison corrected. "While she was dating her ex and you were still with yours so tone down the jealousy, Green Eyes, before she reminds you of that, too."

"She just spotted you anyway." Mark waved at Meredith, smiling because her face lit up at the sight of Derek. The petite blond hurried to their table, kissing Derek as she sat down.

"So, what’s the vet here for?" Addy inquired innocently.

"He’s looking for Callie." Meredith replied, leaning her head against Derek’s shoulder. "You’re here just in time to buy me lunch. Which works for me because I really don’t want to go all the way to my cubby for money."

Addison’s eyes were on her best friend again. Callie had gotten out of her seat, hugged Finn, and was walking out of the cafeteria with him. Meredith and Derek stood and Addison cleared her throat. "Meredith, did Finn say what he wanted?"

"No," the younger woman replied. "He just said that he was here to see her."

Mark waited until their friends left the table before he spoke. "I would be willing to guarantee that Finn has *nothing* to do with whatever’s going on with Callie and Alex. So, stop thinking it."

Addison nodded, but she kept her eyes on the door that Callie had just walked out of anyway.

*~*~*~*~*~


Her stomach rumbled loudly as Callie closed the door to the conference room. She put a hand over it and looked apologetically at Finn. "I’m sorry. I skipped breakfast and my mother in law refuses to let me buy lunch in the cafeteria."

"Is hospital food really that bad? She’s trying to save you?"

Running into Irene had been shocking enough for Callie, but the fact that the woman had taken the tray from her hands and sent it flying into the return bin had stunned her. With enough venom to kill a football team, Irene had told her in no uncertain terms that she was not serving her. Instead of fighting about it, Callie simply picked up a bottle of water and walked away. "Something like that. What are you doing here?"

"I was in the area."

Callie looked skeptical. "Finn, do you visit everyone who loses a pet?"

"No. Just the ones who have bruises on their faces." He put his hands in his pockets. "I can’t stop thinking about that. Are you okay? He looks ... strong."

"My husband did not hit me," she assured him. "Unless you’ve been living under a rock and didn’t hear about it ... all those stories about an attempted rape at Wellington Chapel ... that was me. I was almost raped and I think the guy was trying to beat me to death."

"Oh my god." Finn impulsively hugged her. "I am so sorry. I just assumed that it was -"

"It wasn’t." With a sigh, Callie stepped back. "You picked up on tension between Alex and me because we are in the middle of a disagreement, but that’s all it is."

"Because of the dog?"

"Not really."

Finn made a face. "I’m sorry. I’m being nosy and intrusive."

"Then we’ll change the subject." She gave him a small smile. "Did you find out anything yet? About the poison?"

"It’ll take a few more days."

Callie’s pager went off and she groaned as she took it from the clip. "Emergency room. I better go."

"Callie?"

"Yeah?"

"I heard that the Emerald City Bar makes a mean chicken salad sandwich. You should... you know ... get something."

"My lunch break came and went." Her pager sounded again and she quickly silenced it. "I better go."

Finn grinned at her, big and sincere. "I hope you have a good day."

"I hope you do, too."

"I’d say it’s been great so far."

~

Thirty minutes later, Callie’s pager went off again. She groaned and shook her head, cursing herself for volunteering to come back in to work early. Her entire body ached from being on her feet all day and she still had five hours left on her shift. Her muscles protested as she climbed the stairs and she made a mental note to ask Alex to take Chunk for a jog the following morning. Four miles of rocky trail did not appeal to her at the moment, even if she did use the time to work out her frustration. Twenty miles probably wouldn’t have made a dent in her sadness. She was depressed and unsure of everything. What she wanted was to knock on the guest bedroom and tell Alex that it was okay, that he could come back to their room and love her all night long, but her pride refused to take one for the team.

And punishing him was starting to feel worse for her than it probably did for him.

There was a flurry of activity when she arrived at the trauma room she had been summoned to. Copius amounts of blood dotted the hallway and she hurried into the fray, pulling on her gloves and protective gear as she went. She was adjusting her goggles when a familiar scrap of cloth was tossed past her. She had *just* seen that shirt. "What do we have?" she asked Izzie, who was taking off the patient’s shoes.

"It’s Finn. The vet that dated Meredith," Izzie replied. "He was crossing the street and was hit by a car. Open fractures on both legs and one arm. We’ve paged Derek in for the head wound."

Callie gasped when she finally got a good view of Finn. His legs were mangled and a breathing tube had already been inserted. The doctor in her mentally assessed the damage and she doubted that she would be able to salvage his right leg at all. The left had fared better, but it was still hanging by a thin cord of nerve and tissue. "Oh my god," she whispered, diving in to help with both hands. "What was he doing?"

"He had just bought lunch at Joe’s and was heading back in this direction."

Her heart slammed against her chest.

There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he had been bringing lunch to her since she had said she was hungry.

She doubled her efforts to do everything in her power to salvage his limbs.

*~*~*~*~

"Where’s Callie?" Melana asked softly, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room. "Shouldn’t she be home?"

Alex was shocked to see his mother in law. She had remained in bed all day, not eating and not touching the many bottles of water he had taken her. "She’s still in surgery. I called about an hour ago. There was a bad accident apparently."

"It’s her first day back. She shouldn’t be working over." Melana sat down next to him. Chunk, who had his head in Alex’s lap, moved to her and gazed up at her with reverence. Scratching the dog’s ear, she added, "She sedated me last night."

"You needed it."

"No one is here to sedate her when you leave."

Alex felt her words like a punch in the gut. He had tossed and turned the night before, even after Melana’s sobs had subsided. All he could picture was Callie lying in their bed, curled into herself, crying the same way. Or, on the kitchen floor, the way he had found her on Goon Docks after he left for the first time. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at Melana. "I really get it now. I do. I understand what I do to her when I leave."

"Good." She nodded at him. "Because now that I’ve tried her shoes on ... I’ve decided that I understand why she decided to drink again. If I had been alone last night, if she hadn’t been there to hang onto me, I probably would have ... died. My soul was bleeding that hard. It still is."

"You should call Raphael."

"I should cook dinner." Mel got to her feet and trudged into the kitchen.

Following behind her, Alex pointed at the crock pot. "I put a roast on, but I haven’t started anything else. I don’t know what time she’ll be here."

"Have you spoken with her today?"

"No." Alex lifted the lid and poked at the meat before he spoke again. "I hate this. What do I do, Mel? How do I get her to listen to me?"

"I’m not the person to ask. Raphael has called twenty five times today and I won’t answer my cell phone." Mel pulled potatoes from the cabinet and began peeling them. "Sometimes you can’t listen because just hearing that person’s voice reminds you of everything you stand to lose. And it’s hard to stay angry when you realize what’s at stake. I’m not ready to not be angry. Neither is she."

The front door opened and Chunk barked. Considering how deep and loud it was, Alex dreaded the moment that the puppy was fully grown. Hurrying into the living room, he saw Callie hanging her coat and nervously greeted her. "Hey, how was your day?"

"Don’t ask."

"That bad?"

Callie nodded and reached down to pet the dog, who was wagging his thick tail back and forth fast enough to cause a light breeze. Chunk didn’t want her to stroke his fur, however, he wanted to play and he leaped up, causing her to stumble backwards down the two steps that led to the living room. She landed hard on her backside, causing the puppy to try to put his considerable girth in her lap. It should have been comical, but Callie didn’t laugh. She lost the grip she had on her emotions and broke, putting her face in her hands to catch the sobs that exploded from her. It wasn’t like Melana’s cry from the night before, but it wasn’t soft and subtle either.

Melana, who had been summoned by her daughter’s outburst, picked up Chunk’s toy and opened the back door. Unable to resist chasing his favorite stuffed duck, the mastiff bounded after it. Hurrying back to the couple, Mel watched as Alex tried to comfort her. When Callie pushed him away from her and started to stand, Mel grabbed her arm. "Stop! What happened?"

"Finn," sobbed Callie. "He was hit by a car today and I couldn’t - I tried and tried, but he lost his leg. I couldn’t do anything. The nerve was shot, the bone was shattered, and there was just no way to save it."

"Oh, baby." Melana sat down and took her hand. "Was he awake? Does he know?"

"He has no clue. Derek said that the swelling in his brain - we don’t know if he’s gonna make it, Mom." Callie’s sadness turned to anger when she looked at Alex. "And your mother refused to let me buy lunch today. She literally said ‘I’m not serving you, bitch’ and threw my food away."

"WHAT!?" Alex could have been knocked over with a feather. He shook his head angrily. "She can’t do that! Callie, she just *works* there! Did you tell her to kiss your ass?"

"No." Callie rubbed her eyes and pushed herself to her feet. "I refuse to deal with her. Especially at work."

"I’ll deal with her!" Alex turned and plucked his jacket off the wall, but Melana took it and hung it right back on the hook. "Mel, she’s not -"

"I think that Callie would benefit more from you staying here than going. She’s had a bad day so why don’t you go fill the bathtub for her while I finish dinner?" Mel gave him a pointed look. "Now would be a great time, son."

Alex looked at his wife. "What do you want me to do? Do you want me to go say something to her?"

"No. I’ll handle it." Picking up her briefcase, Callie sailed past him and grabbed a water from the fridge. "I’m really tired so I think I’m gonna go to bed and -"

"You’re eating dinner." Melana put her hands on her hips and squared her shoulders as if to prove that she would not back down from the battle. "It’s not negotiable."

"Fine." Callie waved her hand in exasperation and walked down the hall.

What Callie wanted was to submerge herself in the six person hot tub and unwind with a bottle of red wine. What she did, however, was crawl into the bed fully dressed. She told herself that she was just going to take a moment to unwind, to stretch out her aching muscles, but she fell asleep still holding her briefcase with her purse still over her shoulder. She dreamed that Randall McFry was running through the corridors of the hospital with Finn’s leg, laughing maniacally and using Finn’s foot to kick people in the backside. It was horrible, gory, and absurd, but it still jarred her from sleep.

Sitting up, she pushed her hair out of her eyes and glanced at the clock, shocked to see that it was nearly three in the morning. Randall’s face was still swimming in her mind and she instinctively reached for Alex, but his side of the bed was empty. Her eyes filled with tears and she whispered, "Chunk?"

The dog was not in her room, however.

Getting to her feet, which were bare thanks to someone slipping her shoes off, she quietly opened the door and peered out into the hallway. The shining green light of the security system indicated that everything was safe and secure, but she still felt cold chills racing up and down her spine. Opening the door to the guest room, she saw that Alex was sleeping on his side, facing the far wall. There was plenty of room for her in the queen sized bed, but she didn’t join him. Instead, she walked around it and kneeled down. His face was bathed in the glow from the front lights and she watched him sleep for a while, her hands fisted to prevent her from touching his cheek. She wanted to kiss him, to cling to him, to tell him that she was sorry, too, but she didn’t move a muscle.

As if he sensed her presence, his eyes fluttered open and he blinked a few times as he focused on her face. Wordlessly, he moved over and lifted the cover. He did not have to extend the silent invitation twice. She crawled in beside him, settling against his chest. Feeling a sense of relief the likes of which had never known before, Alex kissed her forehead, wrapping both arms around her.

She breathed him in, her face against his bare skin. "This doesn’t change anything. We’re not okay," she finally whispered.

"Callie-"

"Let me finish." She met his eyes and gave in to the urge to touch his face. Smoothing her palm over his cheek, she said, "You hurt me a little too much this time. You really, really hurt me and I don’t know where we go from here. The only thing I do know is that I only ever feel safe in your arms." Her voice broke as she began to cry. "I just need to feel safe for a little while. Okay?"

He wiped the tears off her cheek, then ran his hand through her hair, holding her head against his heart. He was fairly certain that she was the only thing that was allowing it to beat at all. "Okay."

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"I do know one other thing."

"What’s that?"

She met his eyes again. "I love you. And I really hope that’s enough."

"It is. I swear to God, Callie, it is."

*~*~*~*~

It had been pure luck that Derek was still on duty when Finn was brought in via ambulance. He was technically not supposed to be working at all, but seeing the other man’s head injuries had been enough to force him to scrub in. Richard had threatened to put him on probation for operating while he was still on medical leave, but at Derek’s insistence, consented to examine his arm and decided to release him to work again with no restrictions himself. His first official day back found him standing at the end of the hallway where Finn’s room was located.

Meredith and Callie stood side by side outside the window, peering in. Finn’s status had been upgraded from critical to stable, but neither woman seemed to take comfort in that fact. Meredith had woken up several times the previous night to call for updates and by the looks of Callie ... she had probably done the same. It shouldn’t have bothered Derek in the least. Meredith had agreed to marry him. She proudly wore the ring he gave her and greeted him as her future husband occasionally, but seeing her with her nose practically pressed against the glass of her ex-boyfriend’s room sent more than just a tiny spark of anger through his system. It felt like an inferno.

"Hey."

Turning, Derek saw that Alex had joined him. "Hi. How are you?"

"I’m okay." Alex pointed down the hallway toward Finn’s room. "What about McVet?"

"He vitals stabilized overnight and he appears to be out of the woods. We’re going to keep him in a coma for a couple of days just to prevent any sudden movements because that shunt in his head needs to do its jobs."

Alex continued to watch Callie. "She said he lost his leg."

"He did. She was devastated when she had to do a complete amputation. It’s above the knee." Derek glanced at him. "Callie is friends with Finn?"

"He gave her a dog the other day."

Something in the other man’s tone forced Derek to raise a brow. "And?"

"I think he likes her."

"I see," Derek replied. "What’s going on with you two? You didn’t speak to each other at all really at Melana’s dinner. And then she left and -"

"We’re having problems."

"Because of Finn?"

"Not really." Alex shook his head. "It’s a long story. Would you mind if I spared you the details and just said that I screwed up?"

Derek glanced back down the hallway and cleared his throat. "That may be a good idea. Here comes Callie. I’m gonna go talk to Meredith."

Callie smiled politely at Derek as he walked past her. She put her hands in the pocket of her lab coat when she joined Alex. It was an obvious move to prevent him from touching her. "What are you doing here?"

"I came in to check the schedule. I told you I was ready to come back to work this week, but I’m not on it. There’s no reason for me to sit at the house all day."

"Bailey worked on the schedule for this week. I only worked on the one for the two weeks that she is -"

"That’s not entirely true, Cal. Izzie said that you asked her to swap with Cristina this weekend."

"I had to do that. Burke’s mother is coming to town and since I completely understand the need to avoid in laws, I promised Cristina I’d put her down to work."

"Well, I want to come back tomorrow."

"Then talk to Bailey."

Alex tilted his head to one side. "Am I missing something? I thought that this morning -"

"Nothing’s changed, Alex. I’m not ready to pretend that it has."

"Fair enough. Have lunch with me."

"No." She glanced back down the hall at Finn’s room. In a bag that had his personal belongings, she found her cell phone number inside and a receipt for two chicken salad sandwiches from the Emerald City Bar, proving once and for all that Finn’s accident had quite a bit to do with her. "I’m gonna get something from the vending machine and eat in the lounge."

"We can’t fix us if you don’t meet me halfway, Gothika. Come on." He held out his hand, smiling at her. "Don’t make me beg. I’ll do it, but you won’t enjoy it."

She saw that her wedding rings were on his pinky and bit her bottom lip. It would be so easy to take them from his finger and slip them back on hers. She ached to do just that ... to lead him to the on call room and chase away all the doubt. "I don’t -"

"I’m two seconds away from getting down on my knees." He gave her a warning look that was animated and comical. "I’ll embarrass you. I’ll do the Nancy Kerrigan scream."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Whhhyyyy?" He imitated, earning a few looks from several nurses.

"Fine! Stop that!" She took his hand. "But I am *not* eating here. We can go to -"

"I was thinking Vinnie’s Italian Bistro. It was our first date and they do have a karaoke machine."

"You planning on singing to me, Jock Strap?"

"Would it help me?"

"I doubt it. I’ve heard you."

*~*~*~*~

Melana Torres strolled into Seattle Grace with her pet monkey in her arms. Gucci was dressed in a simple romper, but it color coordinated with the curve hugging red dress that she wore. Her oversized black purse was as shiny as her black stiletto heels and every head in the vicinity turned as she clicked down the corridor. It was unmistakable that she was Callie’s mother, but with her long black hair piled up in a stunning array of curls and enough of her shapely leg peering through the slit in her skirt, she could have passed for her sister. She did not look her age and the smile she flashed at Nurse Tyler caused him to drop the lab work he clutched in his fist as she walked past him.

The heavenly aroma of something that smelled far too enticing to be genuine hospital food guided her steps and she strolled into the crowded cafeteria and scanned the room. Alex had mentioned that he was going to try to coax Callie to lunch and Melana was relieved when she didn’t see her daughter in the room. Perhaps he had succeeded. She saw Addison and Mark with their heads together in deep discussion and headed their way. Mark spotted her first and his eyes widened as he gazed up and down her body. It was enough to amuse Mel to the core. She was not dead and the appreciative glint in his eye put a new bounce in her step.

Leaning down, she kissed Addison on top of the head and said, "How are the two of you?"

Addison blinked, gazing up at her. "Obviously not as good as you. You look fantastic."

"Have you seen my child?"

"I saw her leave with Alex about fifteen minutes ago," Mark said, his eyes on the sparkling diamonds at her neck. "Was there a party today that we didn’t get invited to?"

"Only if you consider bloodshed, carnage, and possibly bone fragments a party. My daughter prides herself on being a bonecrusher, but I fear that I’m about to break off someone’s leg and beat them with it."

Addy’s eyes widened. "I’ll apologize to Callie for our fight. I’ll -"

"Not you, honey." Mel rubbed her hand over Addison’s hair as she scanned the cafeteria. "Would you mind allowing Gucci to sit with you for a moment?"

"Uh ... why?" Mark asked as he held out his hand for the monkey to leap on. He gave the capuchin a piece of his fruit, his eyes still on Mel. "What are you -"

"Has Calliope told you about what Irene did?"

"Comparing her to Alex’s father?" Addy asked. "She told me that in Greece. It divested her."

Melana crossed her arms over her chest. "It divested Alex as well and he called Irene from Greece to speak his mind on the subject. When we returned, Irene cornered Callie in the front yard and they had words. Irene was very hurtful with her comments and then she announced that Fratelli had died while we were on vacation. Callie took the ferret to Finn who confirmed that he had been poisoned. It was intentional. And yesterday, my daughter attempted to *finally* eat and Irene took her food from her and would not let her dine in the cafeteria so ... I’m here to give that vile piece of shit a message, hopefully through violence, that she doesn’t want to mess with my child."

"Oh my God." Addison put a hand over her mouth. "Callie tried to tell me this and I blew her off."


Mark asked, "Is this why Callie and Alex are fighting?"

"He didn’t believe her. She told him what transpired and he didn’t believe her until he saw it for himself on the security camera. He was leaving her. Again." Melana’s eyes narrowed when she spotted Irene carrying a tray full of food for the buffet. "If you’ll excuse me, the person I will probably serve prison time for is waiting."

"Take the monkey," Mark said to Addison as he got to his feet. "Now!"

Melana was halfway to Irene when Mark grabbed her hand. She pulled away and winked at him, "I like you, but you will pull back a bloody stump if you try to stop me again. Hello, Irene!"

Irene dropped the large spoon she was using. "Melana," she said by way of greeting, giving her a curt nod.

When the smaller woman turned back to her job, Mel joined her at the buffet. "It smells heavenly. You’ve certainly outdone yourself with the menu today."

"You should try the salmon. It’s a new recipe."

"Oh, salmon is one of my favorites, but I can’t eat here." Melana’s voice was sugary sweetness, but the underlying sarcasm was clearly there. "I’ll be paying with the same kind of money that Callie has and apparently you don’t accept that."

Irene met her eyes, then looked away. "That was a misunderstanding."

"I see." Mel unbuttoned her sleeve and slowly rolled it. "Perhaps you’d like to help me understand then. Should we sue you for racial discrimination or perhaps sexism ... because unfortunately being a bitch isn’t illegal. If it was, you’d get the death penalty."

Irene’s eyes went to Mel’s hands, where she was busily rolling her other sleeve. "What are you going to do, Melana, hit me?"

"Don’t you think I should?"

Mark moved between the two women. "Mel, you really should-"

"Move out of the way, honey." Putting a hand on his chest, Mel smiled at him. "I just want one good shot."

Irene threw a large, metal spoon at Melana, striking her in the cheek with it. Because it had just come out of a steaming container of soup, it was hot and wet, and effectively burned Mel’s skin. Before Melana could do more than shriek in outrage, Gucci flew out of Addison’s grip and landed on Irene’s head, where he proceeded to yank at the thin tufts of hair on the small woman’s head. He pounded her with his hairy fists and kicked at her with his legs ... and then he hopped onto the lunch line, retrieved another spoon, and walloped Irene in the nose, forehead, and chin with it before Mark could wrestle it away from him.

As a last resort ... Gucci flipped his master’s attacker the finger and leaped onto Mel’s shoulder, protectively wrapping an arm around her neck while he nuzzled her afflicted cheek. Stunned, Irene could only cup her bloody nose and gaze wide eyed at the monkey that had delivered an ass whipping the likes of which she had not felt in years. She opened her mouth to speak, but Melana drew her hand back. Turning on her heel, Irene tried to scramble away ... only to slide down in the food that Gucci had knocked into the floor when he scrambled for the spoon.

Mel planted her heel on Irene’s chest and gazed down at her. "That’s just where you need to be. On the floor like the trash you are. My family has welcomed you with open arms. We have clothed you, given you a home, fed you, and it was my daughter who convinced Alex to give you a chance that you didn’t really deserve. You are a loathsome, pathetic, and heartless bitch and I hope you realize that your son is more *mine* than he ever was yours. And if you’re trying to compete with Callie, stop. Because you’re too worthless to compete with a real woman ... and that’s exactly what she is."

Chief Webber, who had been chatting on his cell phone as he carried his tray around the buffet, drew up short when he saw Irene on the ground. His tray clattered to the floor and he rushed forward, taking Melana by the arm and moving her off the other woman. He extended a hand to Irene and pulled her upright, then looked back and forth between the two. "Ladies ... er ... is there a problem?"

Mark snorted. "Duh?"

"Hi, Richard," Melana said, gazing up at him with a smile that forced his frown upside down. "I was just illustrating to Irene what happens to people who abuse their authority."

"Abuse their authority?" Richard’s eyes traveled over Melana’s face and he licked his lips. "What happened?"

"She refused to let Callie eat here yesterday. I’m sure you well recall that Callie tends to deal with stress by not eating and she has certainly been stressed ... so ... for her to try to eat and be denied -"

"It’s not like missing a meal would hurt her," Irene snapped. "It doesn’t look like she’s missed many."

"Hold it right there!" Addison cried angrily. "Where the hell do you get off!? You don’t have a right to say *anything* about her!"

"Like hell I don’t!" Irene growled. "She’s married to *my* son! Mine! I have every right to say *anything* about her and I have yet to tell a lie! She’s an alcoholic, good for nothing, poor little rich girl and Alex should have realized that when Mexicans and Cubans get money ... they’re still just as worthless!"

Melana’s jaw dropped.

It dropped even further when Addison delivered a right hook to Irene’s face that would have made Muhammad Ali weep at the sheer precision and grace.

*~*~*~*~*~

For someone who had planned an entire speech on the car ride to Vinnie’s, Alex failed miserably at conversation. As he wound his pasta around his fork and watched her do the same, he thought of a million and one things he could say and twice as many apologies he could make, but what came out of his mouth when he finally opened it was, "Is your Alfredo good?"

Callie nodded and held out her fork. "Want some?"

He accepted it, not because he liked Alfredo (he hated it), but because *she* had offered it. He tried to hide his grimace. "It’s, uh, buttery."

She gave him a crooked smile. "And you hate it."

"Pretty much. Pasta is supposed to be *red*." To prove his point, he held up his own fork. "Try it."

"I’m full."

His eyes went to her plate and he shook his head. "You didn’t -"

"Eat much. I know." She shrugged and took a sip of water. "So, did you bring me here for the nostalgia factor or was there something you wanted to say to me?"

"Both, actually." Putting his fork down, he reached for her hand and covered it with his own. "I’ve been thinking about that discussion we had on top of the Archfield the night of your party."

"That was more of an argument, Alex."

"No, it wasn’t." He got to his feet and slipped onto the bench beside her. "I’ve been replaying it in my head and there was a point where I asked you if you if you knew how scary it was for me to know that you could be here today and gone tomorrow. Do you remember?"

"I do."

"I finally realized that I am doing to you what I feared you would do to me. I keep flying and it dawned on me that what I was *scared* of feeling if you left me ... is what you’re feeling right now." He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know that I say it a lot, but I really mean it this time. I’ll never leave you again. Never."

She sighed, chewing her bottom lip. "I’ve been thinking about the past, too. Do you remember when I was planning the fund raiser for the memorial clinic and I met Louise at the Emerald City Bar. When George showed up unannounced? You saw us while Louise was in the bathroom and you left me because I didn’t want to upset you by telling you that I had seen them that day. You *left* and you didn’t believe that she had been there at all until Addison called Joe and confirmed it. And you didn’t believe me about Irene until you saw it on a video. So ... you can mean it when you say that you’re never going to leave again ... but I don’t trust you any more than you trust me."

Alex gripped his thigh and silently counted to ten before he spoke. "If you wanted to hurt me more than I hurt you by calling you a bitch ... it worked."

"I don’t want to hurt you at all. I just think-"

"You and I, we have both been far from perfect, but unless you're really ready to give up we're going to have to start over at some point. And I’m ready to start over, Callie, because I miss you. I think that knowing you’re across the hall and you don’t want me near you has to be the worst feeling in the world and I’ll keep doing it if that’s what it takes," His eyes filled with tears, but he didn’t brush them away. "Because being near you keeps me sane ... but every night that I’m in that guest room is a night that we earned ... we paid our dues for it ... and it’s a crying shame that we’re not making the most of it."

Callie felt herself losing the battle with her own tears. he was saying all the right things and his hand on hers was strong and gentle at the same time, but her heart was hell bent on staying broken. "Do you feel that same way when you leave me? Do you think about how we paid our dues?"

"Mostly I think about staying gone until I’m not mad anymore. I think about protecting you."

"Protecting me? From what?"

"Me."

Her eyebrows vanished behind her bangs. "What do you -"

"There was a time that I reached for you during a fight and you thought I was about to hit you. Do you remember that? You put your hands up to protect your face." He brushed a tear from his cheek, then cupped hers. "I dream about that sometimes... the way you looked. You got this look in your eyes when you thought I was about to cross that line. It’s *that* look that makes me leave when it gets back because I don’t ever want to put it there for good."

"You leave so you won’t hit me?" She turned on the bench, facing him. "You would never do that."

"I don’t know that," he replied. "It’s a fact that a majority of kids who witnessed abuse or were abused themselves will grow up and do it. I have double the chances because I went through both."

She turned the hand he was holding so that she could lace their fingers. "Why didn’t you tell me this before?"

"I’m ashamed. I don’t want you to think you married a man ... like my father."

"I’m ashamed, too. I don’t want you to think that you married an ... alcoholic nut job who’s obsessed with the occult."

"I"m pretty sure I married the girl of my dreams. Occult notwithstanding."

Giving him a sad smile, she said, "I’m pretty sure I married the most patient man alive. You’d die before you hit me even though I know every one of your buttons to push. And I know that."

"Then you *do* trust me." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "The same way I trust that you didn’t mean anything when you stuck me to one spot. You just didn’t want to leave me yet ... and I love you for that."

Callie felt her heart leap into her throat when their song began to play. It was the Patsy Cline version of ‘You Belong To Me’. She had sung it on their first date and they were sitting in the same booth they had shared that night. As the sultry words filled the room, she couldn’t help but think that it was a crystal clear reminder from the powers that be. She closed her eyes and said, "Alex, I-"

"You don’t have to swallow your pride or pretend that I didn’t mess up ... but you do have to remember that we’re married now and a husband should sleep with his wife. If you don’t want me to touch you ... I won’t, but I need to be in our bed with you. Please? Please, Callie."

"I want you to come back, too."

He studied her face. "But we’re still not okay, right?"

"Not yet," she replied softly. "But for the first time since it happened ... I think we could be ... soon."

"I’ll take that." His eyes roamed over her face, lingering on her lips.

She leaned forward and gave him a soft, quick kiss. "I should get back to work."

"Do you think maybe you could kiss me just a little bit better?"

//

I’m gonna be so alone without you

Maybe you’ll be lonesome too ... and blue

//

Callie nodded and kissed him again, the song filling her ears. She put the promise of forgiveness into it and when her tongue touched his ... it was full of longing and desire as well. His hands tangled in her hair and it amazed her that it could feel like a first kiss, a known kiss, and a kiss of love all at the same time. Clinging to him, she deepened it even more and felt him groan against her mouth. Someone cleared their throat behind them and Alex reluctantly pulled back, expecting to see the waiter.

Eros and Izzie stood hand in hand and while Izzie looked amused, Eros looked anything but.

"Hey guys," Callie said, absently rubbing her thumb over her bottom lip. "Lunch date?"

"Is there anything on the menu beside tongue?" Eros asked. "Honestly ... this is a public place."

"This is not Greece, Puritan’s Pride, so shut up," Callie replied. She opened her mouth to say more, but her pager went off and she scrambled for it, pulling it off the strap of her purse. "Oh my god. It’s a 911 for Addison."

"We’ll cover your lunch," Izzie said, as Alex slipped past her and helped Callie out. Reaching down, she picked up Callie’s bag. "Jesus, your purse is heavy as hell!"

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Stop trying to move it!" Mark advised, holding the ice pack in place on Addison’s hand. "How’s the pain?"

She simply groaned in response.

Melana patted her on the arm, then gingerly reached up and touched the bandage on her own cheek. "Not to sound vain, but do you think this burn will leave a scar?"

"I don’t think so." He gave her a reassuring smile. "It looks like the Chief really took care of it."

"What a kind man he is," Mel replied. "He agreed to come to dinner tonight. I think he needs a home cooked meal. Why ... he told me that he’s only had room service and hospital food for almost a year. A handsome man like that should have a wife."

"He’s divorced." Addison watched the older woman closely. "Are you flirting with Richard, Mel?"

"Yes, quite." With an innocent nod, Mel added, "I am separated."

Callie walked in carrying the chart and tugging on her jacket. She had not taken the time to put her scrubs back on and instead wore jeans and a form fitting shirt. She glanced up and dropped the chart to the floor. Her eyes went from the bandage on her mother’s cheek to Addison’s hand. "You hit my mother!" she accused. "What the hell, Addison!?!?"

Alex stepped in behind Callie, clearly shocked, then hurried toward Mel. Addison glared at her friend. "I did not hit your mother, Callie!"

"She hit Alex’s," Mark corrected.

You could have heard a pin drop. Alex stopped trying to peel the tape back on Melana’s face and looked at the redhead. "You did what?"

"She burned Mel and insulted Callie." Addison pointed at Callie with her injured hand and cried out. "I fought for your stupid honor so order pain meds!"

Callie studied her husband, whose face had drained of color. "Alex?"

"Don’t," he replied, tilting Mel’s chin. "Are you okay?"

Mel nodded and patted the capuchin on the head. "Gucci fought for my honor."

Picking up the X-rays, Callie pinned one, then another to the light display. She made a face when she saw the damage. "Way to go! You’ve dislocated your wrist, Addison."

"Crap."

"It’s not bad, but -"

"Crap!"

"Focus," Callie told her, shutting off the lights on the display and slipping the films back into the pouch. "What do you want for the pain?"

"Something strong." Addison put her wrist in Callie’s palm when she held it out. "Don’t you dare poke at it until you shoot me up!"

"Demerol?" Callie asked softly, gently rubbing her thumb over the joints. "Morphine?"

"Yeah, both of those and maybe some -"

With lightning speed, Callie wrenched her wrist back in place. It made a sickening popping sound and Addison was too stunned to scream. Rubbing her fingers back over the afflicted area, Callie said, "Better?"

"You ASSHOLE!" Addison yelled. "You didn’t even ... oooooh ... that is actually a lot better."

"Did they do blood work?" Callie asked.

"They had to because it happened at work," Mark shrugged. "Meredith said it was a new policy."

"It is." Callie lied with ease. She had another very important reason for requesting the blood work and it had nothing to do with policies of any kind. Glancing at Alex, she said, "Would you mind checking with the lab?"

As soon as her husband left the room, she narrowed her eyes at her mother. "What did you do!?"

"Richard suspended Irene, honey! Clearly I wasn’t at fault."

"Your cleavage got her suspended, Mom!"

Mark said, "No, I think it was the slit in her skirt. That’s a nice slit."

"That sounded very dirty, sweetheart," Melana admonished, but her smile got even bigger. "And I approve."

"Why did you come here and say anything to her?" Callie demanded. "You can’t-"

"I can and I did!"

"It was amazing," Addison interjected. "She *stepped* on Irene."

Callie rubbed a hand over her face in exasperation. "Do you guys get that she was abused? That her husband -"

"It doesn’t give her a free pass to be a bitch," Mark stated. "A lot of people are abused and they grow up just fine. Look at Alex."

"The fact that she is Alex’s mother means that we should try not to rock the boat," Callie snapped. "He’s already going through hell because of her and now -"

"He lived without her for years," Melana cut her off. "And he’s better off without her at all if this is how she wants to behave."

"I agree," Addison said.

"You don’t get to have an opinion!" Callie growled. "And don’t think for one second that you hitting her makes up for what you said to me!"

"I don’t want to make up for that! It was true ... parts of it ... some of it." Addison glanced down at her hands. "Well, not a lot of it."

"Whatever."

"YOU SET MY WRIST WITH NO PAIN MEDS ... SO YOU SUCK MORE THAN ME!" Addison cried, infuriated.

"I set the wrists of *toddlers* with no pain medication and they whine less than you, cry baby!"

"Stop it, girls!" Melana shot them both a warning look. "You’re acting like children."

Flipping through the chart, Callie angrily scribbled a few notes and slammed it shut. "You’ll need to wear a stabilizer for a couple of weeks and go to physical therapy. Any questions?"

"No."

Callie stormed out of the room, then sent Olivia in to put the brace on. She was standing in the hallway glaring at Addy’s door when Alex walked up to her with the test results. She didn’t have to see them to know, so she concentrated on her husband instead. "Are you -"

"I’m fine."

"I am so sorry." She took his hand. "You should go and see her ... make sure she’s okay."

"I don’t think so."

"Alex -"

"Irene’s chart was in the clinic so I flipped through it. Gucci didn’t bite her. She had a nose bleed and a couple of bruises. They gave her a shot of dilaudid and released her to Leon. She’s sound asleep right now after the dosage they gave her." He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Besides, I should be with my family."

"I can call Leon. I have his cell number. Do you want me to do that?"

"I want to take Melana home."

"Then you’ll go see your mother?"

"What do you think Mel is?"

Callie’s felt a lump form in her throat and she gave him a small smile. "She feels the same way about you, Alex, but Irene is -"

"We’re not talking about this anymore. She chose her side and I chose mine."

Mark and Melana walked into the hallway, deep in conversation. Chief Webber joined them and smiled at her mother in a way that made Callie’s blood boil. Seizing the opportunity to speak with Addy alone, Callie gave Alex a kiss goodbye, then hurried back into her room.

Addison glared at her from the bed. "Back to hurt me some more?"

Callie opened the envelope and smiled. "Ask me why I didn’t give you pain meds."

"Because you’re evil and need an exorcism?"

Holding out the results, Callie shook her head. "Because I was right."

It took three full minutes for the news to sink in. Addison simply stared at the paper and when her hands finally started to shake and the sobs came, Callie sat down in front of her. "Congratulations. I think. You wanted this, right?"

"This should be impossible," Addy cried. "I only had a twenty percent chance."

"You want me to go get Mark?"

"NO! Oh my god! How do I tell him!?!"

"I’m thinking that nothing says ‘I’m pregnant’ better than saying ‘I’m pregnant’," Callie replied, putting her hand in the pocket of her lab coat, where she withdrew a tissue. "You’re supposed to be happy."

"I can’t be happy when my baby’s Godmother won’t even hug me!"

Callie swallowed the lump in her throat. "You want me to -"

"Of course I do!" Addison told her. "And I’m sorry, by the way. I guess I could blame it on hormones or something ... but I really do need to learn to think before I speak."

"Pretty much."

A fresh round of tears trickled down Addison’s face. "How can I be a mother if I had no people skills?"

"Ask my mom. She does it."

"Your mom is amazing. And how do I do it if -"

"You’re going to be fine."

"You’ll help me, right?"

"You don’t want my help. I’m a screw up, remember?"

Addison pursed her lips. "Holding a grudge will give you gas."

"So will having a baby."

"Forgiveness is good for the soul."

"So is chicken soup."

"You want to hug me, Callie."

"I’m immune to Jedi mind tricks."

"Don’t make a pregnant lady cry." Addison took her friend’s hand in both of hers. "Or beg."

Brown eyes met blue. "I do have a problem with alcohol. Some days are better than others. Sometimes it doesn’t consume me, but every day ... it’s there. The reason I could sit at Joe’s and not be tempted is because I had you all with me. I - I was already drunk on you. I do have a problem, Addison. It’s real and it scares the hell out of me so don’t you *ever* call it convenient again because if it was a matter of convenience ... it would be so much fuckin’ easier to let it go."

"I’ll help you let it go. I will."

Callie scooted closer to her. "Somebody needs to."

Addison pulled her into her arms, hanging on for dear life. "I am so sorry. I really didn’t have a right to say anything and I was too stubborn to apologize. Please don’t stay mad at me. I really do love you and I need you right now because -"

"I’m not having sex with you." Callie returned the hug. "Pregnant chicks do nothing for me. But I love you, too."

"Am I forgiven?"

"Not yet." Callie leaned back and looked at her. "When I broke up with George ... you let him sleep on your couch and you told me that I should take him back. You took his side. When Alex and I have problems... you automatically choose him, too. It would be really nice if sometimes you could remember that I -"

"Hello?! Did I not just assault Irene?" Addison held up her hand. "I beat up George and Izzie, too, while you were off playing house with Alexander the Great!"

Callie’s smile was big and genuine. "Okay, I’ll give you that."

"So, we’re over it?"

Forcing herself to sound sincere despite the anger she still felt, Callie nodded. "We’re over it."

"How do I tell Mark?"

"Use your imagination."

"My imagination died when I found out that ghosts are real, Cal."

"Hmm. You could hang a rattle from your crotch."


Addison made a horrific face. "Eww! Why don’t I just wear an adult diaper and footed pajamas?"

"That’s original. You could have a big banner made and I could fly it over the cove."

"Because flying turns out so well for you when you do it."

"Bite me."

Addison placed a hand over her stomach. "Maybe I should just keep it mum until I start to show."

"You keep something a secret!? Yeah, and tomorrow I’ll look out the window and pigs’ll be flying."

*~*~*~*~*

Callie heard her mother laughing hysterically when she opened the front door. Chunk howled his delight and bounded toward her, but instead of jumping up on her, he stopped on the step and lifted his paw in greeting. "Oh my gosh! Good boy, Chunky!"

"He’s actually pretty smart," Alex said, joining her. He took her coat, hung it on the hook, and gave her a hug. "Just for future reference, bacon motivates his brain power."

She slapped him on the chest. "And also clogs his arteries, Alex!"

"And what big arteries they are." Giving her a tentative kiss, he took her hand. "Did you see Webber’s new car out there?"

"That’s his!? It’s *red*!"

"I’m thinking mid-life crisis mobile, but he may be passed mid-life." Alex winked at her.

Callie tugged him forward for a better kiss and they broke apart when Melana laughed uproariously. "Is she doing what I think she’s doing?"

"I think so, but it seems harmless. He did bring her flowers, though."

"What!?" Her jaw dropped open and she started for the kitchen, but he grabbed her. "She’s good. She knows that I’ll tell Daddy that someone is moving in on his ... turf."

"Then don’t tell him."

"I won’t. I’ll just sabotage it myself."

"Behave." Someone knocked on the door and Alex added, "By the way, Mark and Addison were invited and she said to tell you that Mark doesn’t know. What doesn’t Mark know?"

"I’ll tell you later." Callie crossed her arms over her chest as Mark appeared. He had a chocolate cake in his hand and said, "Save me from my wife before I wring her neck."

"What did she do?" asked Callie.

"She’s out there crying because she thinks Alex is mad at her. And she cried at the bakery because they didn’t have red velvet, which is your favorite, and she feels that she can’t apologize with chocolate. And she cried when we left the hospital because she hates drinking water ... yet she bought one instead of Coke." Mark scowled. "She’s gone off the deep end."

"I’ll be back." Callie pulled her jacket on again. "You guys please go watch my mother."

*~

Addy glanced up when Callie slipped into the driver’s seat of Mark’s BMW. "This car? Not kid friendly. Our house? Horribly not kid friendly. I - I don’t even have a crib!"

"You know what you do have?" Callie asked. "Several freakin’ months."

"We are NOT kid people! At the bakery a little boy was crying over ice cream and Mark leaned against me and said ‘thank god that’s not us’. Callie! He said it! In several freakin’ months ... it will be!"

"It’ll be different when it’s your own."

"We are NOT kid people!" Addison repeated.

"Alex is not mad at you, by the way."

"I didn’t think he was."

"You told Mark -"

"I lied. I had to say something to make him stop asking me what was wrong."

"This is normal, Ads. You’re overwhelmed."

"I’m pregnant!"

"Yeah!"

"I AM PREGNANT! OH MY GOD!"

"Breathe!"

"I can’t do this, Callie. I just ... I cannot do this!"

"Yes you can."

"You were supposed to do this before me! You always do everything before me!"

"You’re having a panic attack." Callie patted her hand.

"No shit, Sherlock!"

"Listen ... my mother is in the kitchen trying to seduce Webber. You’re in the car having a nervous breakdown. I need to be in two places at once so in the spirit of friendship ... dry your eyes ... get the hell out of this car ... and help me keep my mother’s tits in her shirt and her legs *closed*."

Addison stopped crying instantly. "You don’t think ... she wouldn’t ..."

"She better hope not."

"Let’s go." Opening the door, Addison paused and looked back at her friend. "Callie?"

"What?"

"I don’t even have a name for it! It’s gonna get here without a crib and without a name and then it’ll sleep on the floor and not have anything to write in kindergarten!"

Callie started to laugh. She laid her head on the steering wheel and chuckled long and hard before she slipped from the seat and put her arm around the other woman as they headed for the front door. Chunk was sitting at Mark’s feet, staring at him curiously. Mark was returning the look, but his was filled with distaste. Addy took one look at the dog and started to walk out again, but Callie caught her hand. "This is Chunk."

"A chunk of what?" Addison wrinkled her nose. "It’s ugly."

"Don’t call him ugly," Callie chided. Moving closer to her friend, she whispered, "Your baby may come out with no ass like you and gray hair like Mark so don’t throw stones."

Addy’s hand flew to her backside. In a loud voice, she said, "My ass is not flat!"

"Yes it is," Mark said.

Melana laughed suddenly and this time, Webber’s booming laughter joined hers. Callie put her hands on her hips. "It’s time to stop this madness. MOM! Hey, MOM!"

"What?" Melana hurried into the living room, looking alarmed. "Are you okay?"

Callie practically yelled, "Dad called. He wanted me to remind you that your anniversary is coming up and he thought you might like to go on that cruise. You know ... the one with the *old* married people? Because you’re MARRIED."

"So are you," Mel replied sweetly. "Maybe you should accompany your father. After all .... the two of you enjoy spending time alone in exotic places."

Callie stomped her foot when her mother stalked back into the kitchen.

Mark snorted. "Melana, one. Callie, zero."

Ten minutes later, Callie slumped into a chair in the dining room, having been physically pulled from the bedroom by Alex. The table was already laden with food when Melana strolled in carrying a basket of bread. She placed it near Callie and leaned down, speaking softly, "You do not want to cross me tonight, kiddo."

"You don’t want to cross me either," Callie snapped. "My dad -"

"Left me. Considering how you took Alex *trying* to leave you ... I don’t want to hear it." Mel put a hand on Callie’s shoulder. "So you remember your manners. I mean it."

"Remember your vows!" Callie snapped her napkin open and laid it in her lap. "You know ... the ones you said at Talking Rock while you were already pregnant with Stavros?"

"How in the hell -"

Chief Webber strolled into the room carrying a plate of sliced ham. He greeted Callie warmly, then held Addison’s chair out for her. He looked at Callie and said, "How is the training going with Bailey?"

"Fine."

"Do you think you’ll enjoy it?"

"No one else does. Why should I?"

Richard frowned and glanced at Alex, who shot him a warning look and shook his head slightly. Clearing his throat, Richard turned to look at Addison, "How’s your hand?"

"Sore." Catching herself, Addy lowered her eyes. "Alex, I’m very sorry that I hit your mom."

"It’s okay."

"About that," Richard said. "I need you to take a few days off, Addison. Without pay. Three to be exact."

"I’m suspended?" Addison was stunned. "Seriously?"

"Hospital policy," Callie said offhand. "Page seventeen, line twenty two. ‘Workplace altercations that result in violence carry a minimum of three days suspension and a maximum of fourteen’."

Everyone stared at her.

"What?" she demanded. "So ... I remember things."

"You memorized the hospital policy?" Mark asked. "That’s so pathetic. I’ve never even read it."

"Good to know," Richard said, passing a bowl to Addison. To Alex, he said, "Your mother received six days and she’s on probation after that. She abused her authority."

"In more ways than you know," Alex replied.

Richard put a heaping serving of corn on his plate and beamed at everyone. "This is great! It’s been ages since I had someone to dine with."

"The hospital is full of *available* people." Callie passed the mashed potatoes to Alex without adding any to her plate. He did it himself. "You really should start dating, Chief."

"I was thinking that." Richard nodded. "Melana, do you like the theater?"

"She hates it."

"I love it."

Callie and Melana exchanged matching looks.

"What show is playing?" Addison asked, trying to break the tension.

"The Color Purple," Richard replied. "A week from Saturday."

Melana beamed at him. "I’d love to go with you."

"You’ll be home by then." Callie shook her head. "Dad said that you’re interviewing new gardeners."

"I don’t really care if gardens dry up like a raison in the sun." Melana put a heaping serving of peas on Callie’s plate.

"That’s a great book," Richard said.

"I agree."

Callie glanced at Mark who covertly pointed at Melana and held up five fingers. He pointed at Callie and made a zero. She kicked him under the table and he groaned in pain. "Dad’s coming for Thanksgiving," she said.

Melana put her fork down. "If I wanted to talk about your father I would go to the church ... because only a priest needs to hear the many ways I want to mutilate him. So stop bringing him up!"

Callie smiled sweetly. "Maybe you should go to confession. Because thinking it is just as bad as doing it!"

Closing her eyes, Mel took a deep breath. "I should have punished you the first time you spoke. It would have discouraged you from doing it again."

"My first word was ‘daddy’ and he liked it."

"Your first word, Einstein, was ‘mine’," Melana corrected. "But it was in reference to your father which proves that you have always been partial to him."

"Someone has to be." Shoving her chair back, Callie got to her feet and left the table.

She stalked into her bedroom and let Chunk out of the cage. He hopped up and snatched his leash off the dresser, wiggling frantically. Callie changed into her sweat pants, hoodie, and sneakers. As she was putting his leash on, her door opened. Melana slammed it behind her and leaned against it. "That is your boss down there! What the hell is wrong with you!?!"

"What the hell is wrong with *you*!?"

"I’m going to tell your father that you need another feeding tube!"

"If that’s what it takes to get you to talk to him then go ahead!"

"Let me tell you something, Callie. Raphael messed up. Big time. And I really need a friend and so does Richard and -"

"A sex buddy? Mom, you have got to be kidding me!"

"Just because you had sex so easily outside of your marriage doesn’t mean I will. I happen to still be committed to your father. I won’t add adulteress to my shortcomings as easily as he added liar to his."

"Do you want to punish me, Mom? Is that it? You have always been unnecessarily hard on me. Always. But I don’t need to see you making moon eyes at my *boss* to know that I am the reason you and Daddy have gotten to this point. I get it! It’s my fault!"

"I have never been hard on you unless it was warranted."

"Yes, you have."

Mel threw her hands in the air. "Oh, I’m a regular Mommy Dearest, huh!? You know what... you are the reason my marriage is in trouble. Because I chose *you* instead of your father. I chose you and your safety over making things right with him. I’m not pissed at him for continuing to work for the CIA or FMC. I’m pissed at him because he deprived me of so much time with you. I’m pissed that you could have easily been killed and that you had to see things that no little girl should see. I’m here right now instead of back in Miami to prove to you that I choose YOU." Melana glared at her. "When in the HELL are you going to choose ME!?"

"Mom-"

"I went to the hospital today and confronted Irene for *you*. This burn on my cheek if for *you*. I invited Richard here tonight because I thought that *maybe* you would like to talk to your sponsor because you haven’t gone to a meeting in weeks." Shaking her head in disgust, Melana ran a hand through her hair. "You have always been unnecessarily hard on *me*, Calliope, because the closer I try to get to you ... the more you push me away."

"That’s not -"

"The night that you almost burned to death on Talking Rock ... I came into the fire even though you were screaming for your father. I came into the blaze and I didn’t yell from the pain because I didn’t want you to die scared. I wanted to comfort you. I was willing to burn to death to protect you and your father ... he threw you back into that same fire again and again. So, I’m asking you to think about that. Who is loyal to whom, honey? You are loyal to *him*. He’s loyal to *himself*. And I have always been loyal to YOU." Melana took a step forward. "And you never think to return the favor. You can’t deny it, can you?"

Callie looked at the floor when she shook her head. Hot tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t speak.

"I’ve had enough of this. I love your father, but he broke my spirit. I love you, but you break my soul."

Chunk, seemingly tired of waiting for his walk, hiked up his leg and peed on the dresser.

Mel pointed at the dog. "That’s what I think about this entire mess, too."

*~*~*~*~

Sitting alone on the back patio, Callie glanced up when Richard opened the door. He joined her, holding out a cup of hot chocolate. She took it from him and said, "I’m sorry. I made it very uncomfortable and -"

"I understand why. Your mother is gorgeous and very fascinating, but she’s married and if I have learned nothing else in my life ... it’s that I need to stay away from married women." Richard said down beside her, moving his chair closer. "She needs a friend and so do I. She made it very clear that she loves your father."

"Okay."

"How are you? Besides angry."

"I’m getting better."

"Take tomorrow off."

"Why?"

"Because your mother mentioned a shopping trip with Addison and I want you to go."

"I don’t like to shop."

"Alcoholics have to find other outlets besides liquor. Go and buy something nice. Laugh with your family and mend some fences because I think you need her more than you know."

"Alright."

"There’s a meeting tomorrow at Wellington Chapel. I think you should -"

"I can’t go back there! That’s where I was attacked!"

"Confront your demons. They don’t go away until you do." Richard got to his feet. "And Callie? I’ll be watching your weight very closely. Weekly as a matter of fact. I won’t hesitate to put you on a medical leave if I have to."

"Yes, sir."

"I’ll see you tomorrow."

She nodded.

*~*~*~*~

Alex and Callie lay side by side in the bed later on. She had made it very clear by wearing her bulky pajamas that there would be no making up in the biblical sense. She stared at the ceiling for a while then took a deep breath. "Are you okay, Jock Strap? I mean ... with everything happening with your mom?"

"I’m getting there."

"Maybe you should call her."

"I don’t think so."

"I hate to think of her getting hit again. Even if Addy does hit like a girl."

"It will be fine, baby."

"I know I said that we could sleep together tonight, but-"

"You want me to go?" He sat up. "Why?"

"I want to go, actually." She pushed herself upright beside him. "I’m gonna go sleep with my mom."

"She’d like that."

"But if you’re not okay -"

"I’m perfect. I’ve got the dog to keep me warm."

"You hate the dog."

"I hate that he pisses by the gallon ... but he’s not so bad."

She smiled. "You loooooove him."

"No, I looooooove you."

"I love you, too." She kissed him and whispered, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, baby." He watched her pad from the room and patted the bed, clicking his tongue to call the dog. Chunk jumped up, turned in a circle, then flopped down and whined at the door. "I know, buddy, I miss her, too. Life sucks, huh?"

*~*~*~*~

Melana was crying softly into her pillow when Callie crawled into the bed behind her. She had not heard her daughter enter and she quickly wiped her face. "Are you okay, honey?"

"I’m good," Callie replied, sliding under the cover and spooning against her.

"What are you doing?"

"Choosing you." Callie tightened her grip, when Mel sobbed louder. It cut her to the quick to hear the sadness in her mother’s cries. "I took you for granted and so did Daddy. I’m sorry. And if I’m half the woman you are ... then I’ll do just fine ... because you’re really amazing, Mom. And I love you."

Rolling to face her, Melana buried her face in the front of Callie’s shirt. "Oh, Callie."

"Don’t call me O’Callie. That’s what the nurses called me when I married George."

"It’s better than what I called you when you married George."

"True."

They hugged in silence for a while. Melana sobbed again, gripping Callie’s hand. "I miss Raphael. The last time we were in this bed -"

"Oh God ... please don’t."

"We made love for hours and he ..."

"Mom ... please?" Callie shifted uncomfortably.

"He said that our life was a fairy tale and ... this is not the ending he promised me."

"Every fairy tale has drama. At least you don’t have rodents of unusual size."

"What would you call your dog?"

"Touché."

"Go back to Alex, mi vida. I’m sure he needs you."

Callie shook her head. "He has the rodent. And I’ve got you."

Mel relaxed into her embrace. "You read my diaries, didn’t you?"

"Well, duh."

"That wasn’t very nice."

"You should write a book. I couldn’t put it down. Neither could Cam."

"You brats!" Melana sat up and glared at her. "How old were you?"

"Ten? Eleven?"

"You have known this all along and you never said anything? Did you tell Stavros?"

"Nope. Cam and I had your back. We were *loyal* to you."

Melana gazed toward the window. "I wish I had those diaries."

"I’ve got Dad’s letters. Well, actually you do. They’re in your suitcase."

"And the journals?"

"I didn’t steal those," Callie lied, wondering if her father had located them in his suitcase yet. Smiling at her mother, she pulled her back down. "Read ‘em tomorrow. I’m tired."

"You’re going shopping with us tomorrow, aren’t you?"

"Yep."

"And you’ll pretend to enjoy it?"

"I’ll try." Callie kissed her mother’s head. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I really love you, Mom. I do."

"I really love you too, brat. I do."

"Tell me about that time that you fell out of the tree and landed on Daddy."

Melana shared story after story with more detail than she had written in her diary. They didn’t fall asleep until after three and when they did ... they were huddled together ... arm in arm.

*~*~*~*~*
CH 18
*~*~*~*~*~

"Will you please hold still?"

Addison sighed and glanced heavenward. "I can’t be gaining weight already! These are a size four! *I* am a size four."

"Well, I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but we may have to cut these size fours off you." Callie wrenched the zipper again, shaking her head as she groaned. "I’m ripping the skin off my fingers because of you and I haven’t *completely* forgiven you yet so I think this proves that I am a very good person. Wait, is that a piece of thread holding it? Addison, ... oh ... my ... god."

Addison looked down at her friend. "What did you do? Callie! Get your face out of my crotch!"

"MY HAIR IS STUCK IN THE ZIPPER!"

Addison tried to pull back to see for herself and Callie dropped onto her knees, slipping off the bench in the dressing room as she howled in pain from the hair tugging. The red head finally realized that her friend was truly and completely attached. "Oh! Sorry!"

"Be still! You’re making my eyes water!"

"You need to cut your fucking hair! You got it stuck to my wall and -"

"YOU stuck it to your wall by forcing me to help you put that suckass wallpaper up! That wallpaper is probably the real culprit behind your mood swings. It’s enough to drive the sanest person alive into channeling Sybil. I’m in there for ten minutes and I want to unleash my inner Eileen Wuornos." Callie grabbed the other woman’s hips. "Stop moving!"

"You stop moving!" Addy hissed. "And get your face out of my crotch!"

"I’m *stuck*! It’s not like I can help it!"

"Do not say ONE word about me needing a wax! I told you weeks ago that I needed one so if it’s prickly-"

"You better pray to GOD that I do not experience any prickles because I will GUT you if I come in contact with that."

"I should have worn panties."

"I’m three seconds away from yanking myself bald."

"You look good on your knees, Callie. I bet Alex loves it when you go there." Addison playfully wriggled.

Callie moaned when her hair tugged and pinched the fleshy part of Addy’s thigh, causing reciprocating noises to erupt from the other woman.

There was a knock at the door and they both stopped talking. The attendant peeked inside and her green eyes went from smiling to looking like saucers. Angry saucers. "Lesbians," she grimaced. "This is not funny, ladies. If you are this intent on finding satisfaction then please get a room or go to your car, but don’t think that we enjoy the aftermath of these little couplings."

"We are not lesbians! We’re married!" Addison cried.

"Is that legal now? Same sex marriages?" the clerk asked. "No, don’t tell me. Just get your things and go. You’re not welcome here."

"What’s going on?" Melana asked, pulling the door open all the way so that everyone in the vicinity could see inside. "Calliope! Stop channeling your twin and get up from there! Honestly! One homosexual in the family -"

"I’M STUCK!" Callie repeated in a loud voice. "MY HAIR IS STUCK IN HER ZIPPER!"

"WELL, KEEP YOUR FACE OUT OF HER ALTOGETHER!" Melana cried, strolling forward. "I’m not going to ask and you are not going to tell me. Either of you."

"She was trying to help me. The zipper got stuck and," Addison glared at the clerk. "we are not trying to get any satisfaction! We are straight as arrows!"

Melana glared at the attendant when she made a disgusted noise. "If you’re interested in a commission today that would pay for a car ... I suggest you go find the dress that I asked you to find fifteen minutes ago. Otherwise, we’ll take our very lucrative business elsewhere."


Seeing dollar signs, the woman nodded. "I’ll find it now, ma’am."

Two hours later, Callie decided that being tossed out of the store would have been the best thing. She groaned when Melana hung four more dresses on the hook. The dressing room was littered with clothing and there was no end in sight. Callie had avoided trying anything on at all until the perfect jeans caught her eye. Her mother, as if sensing a disturbance in the atmosphere, had pounced on her before she even had a chance to zip the new jeans and poked so many clothes inside that the small room was beginning to feel claustrophobic. The jeans had been a definite and Callie gazed longingly at them as she zipped herself into another Vera Wang dress and stared at her reflection. It wasn’t *that* bad. The rich blue fabric was soft and flowing. Of the three million dresses she had tried on, it was the only one that looked made for her. She slipped it off and hung it over the jeans. Melana and Addison already had several bags and if Callie didn’t catch up soon, she’d never make it out of the dressing room.

The door opened again when Callie was pulling her own trusty jeans back on. Melana frowned at her. "You’re finished? But, you haven’t tried on any shirts!"

"I’m hungry," Callie replied, thinking fast.

Melana reached past her and gathered the closest rejects. "We’ll go to the food court then."

Relieved, Callie sat down to tie her sneakers. She had opted for comfort while her mother and Addison were both dressed to kill. It made her feel frumpy and when she saw the appreciative looks her mother received as she surveyed the many menus of the food court a while later, Callie wanted to blend into the wall. Addison would have been the perfect daughter for Mel, she thought. Shopping made both women giggle like schoolgirls. At the other end of the spectrum was Callie ... who wanted to throw herself over the balcony to the bottom floor to avoid yet another crowded and overpriced store. It was something she loved about Alex. He was content to never spend money at all unless you counted the movies and computer upgrades he made. Neither of them liked to shop and would rather walk through the park than the mall.

The smell of her favorite pineapple chicken called to her and she placed her order, finding a place to sit amongst the already crowded tables. Thanksgiving was rapidly approaching and it looked like the shoppers were getting a jump start on their holiday season. She dug into her lunch as she people watched, but her mind paid no attention to the flurry around her. She thought about Finn. Derek had decided to keep him in a medicinal coma through the weekend. The swelling in his brain was simply too severe to risk having Finn move the wrong way. It broke Callie’s heart to think that on Monday she would have to tell the man that he had lost his leg ... and the other had been damaged enough that it would never support his weight fully ... so a prosthetic limb would likely not be a possibility. Finn Dandridge would probably spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

With a sigh, Callie set her fork down and picked up her purse, rifling through for Ibuprofen. Her eyes widened when she saw one of the small bottles she had purchased at the liquor store. Addison’s voice caused her to jump and almost empty her purse’s contents into her lap. She zipped it fast and put it on the chair beside her. "Did you find something good?" Callie asked casually, leaving her hands under the table to hide the shaking.

Addison grinned and sat her tray down. "I have decided that I am going to get fat while I’m pregnant. I want a chubby baby with fat, fat cheeks and those cute little rolls they get on their arms."

Callie’s eyes widened when she saw the hamburger, milkshake, fries *and* onion rings that Addison had purchased. "You do get that those fat cheeks and cute little rolls still come out the same way, right?"

The red head had taken a bite of her burger and glanced down at it. With her mouth full, she said, "Oh my god. What am I doing?"

"You married a plastic surgeon. He can tighten your hoo hoo when it looks like a Shar-pei."

Addison poured half of the onion rings onto Callie’s plate. "You’re not cute. Are you having fun? You hate shopping."

"Webber made me tag along."

"I’m surprised he’s speaking to you after last night. I’m saying this with love ... you were such an ass."

"I prefer ‘bitch’."

"I prefer to stay on your good side so I’m not going there." Addison popped a fry into her mouth. "How are things with you and Alex?"

Callie shrugged. "Strained, uncomfortable, and weird."

Melana joined them, carrying a bowl of vegetable soup. "Are you complaining about the dress you just bought?"

"No. That dress is actually pretty nice." Callie gave her a smile. "And I am relatively complaint free today. You will notice that I am *trying* to behave."

Pointing at her daughter’s tray, Melana returned the smile. "Behave with your mouth full."

"My stomach hurts," Callie lied.

"Are you pregnant, too?" Addy asked.

"Too?" Melana gasped. "Addison! You’re -"

"I am."

Callie rolled her eyes when Melana exclaimed in Greek and tugged Addison into her arms. For the next five minutes, Melana and Addison talked about nursery colors, nursery themes, whether or not red hair ran in Mark’s family, and about a stroller that Melana had seen in a magazine that she would have loved having with her own children. It was one more thing that Callie did not have in common with them and she sighed, propping her chin on her fist. When they ran out of topics, Melana looked at Callie and asked the inevitable question.

"When are you going to have a baby, honey?"

"Alex and I have a five year plan," Callie replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "Besides, we’d have to be speaking to each other in order to go there and for most of our very short marriage ... we haven’t been."

"If you spoke more with your bodies and less with your mouths ... I don’t think you’d have any marital problems." Melana patted her arm. "You really need to learn to listen to what Alex doesn’t say. He speaks volumes when you really, really care to hear it."

Callie sighed. "Addison, have you told Mark yet?"

"No."

Melana looked aghast. "Why not!?"

"We’re not kid people."

Taking a bite of soup, Mel shook her head. "But you’re obviously insatiable people. Sex is God’s gift to us for procreation, not recreation. So, if you’re sex people... then you’re kid people by default."

Callie had to fight hard not to smile. "Then why did you have sex with Daddy all night before we went to Greece and then again in Greece? That’s recreational sport for you, Mom. You can’t have any more kids."

"Just because I cannot have children now -" Melana narrowed her eyes. "Be quiet, Calliope, and eat your lunch."

"Oh the sweet smell of victory," Callie replied, laughing. "I finally one upped you."

"You smell your own hot air and I assure you it’s not sweet at all," Melana replied. "I think that you and Alex need to get away this weekend."

"What? Why?"

"Cambyses and Blake take a trip once a month and it helps them. You need to do the same. Why ... right now Cambyses is in the Bahamas making sure he keeps the romance alive." Mel shrugged. "Take notes from your twin, honey."

"Alex and I are homebodies, Mom."

"I’ve already suggested it to him. The yacht is empty now so the two of you should sail away from your troubles and try to remember what brought the two of you together to begin with." Melana took a bite of her croissant. "Don’t you agree, Addison?"

"That does sound romantic. I mean, you guys realized that you were in love on Goon Docks. I think you should go."

Callie had a sinking suspicion that she was the victim of a coordinated attack. "Just like that? Drop everything and go?"

"I’ll watch the dog," Melana said.

"And I’ll watch Mel," Addison added. "I’ll keep her company."

"I have plans for the weekend, actually." Melana cleared her throat. "Preston Burke invited Richard to dinner this weekend and Richard invited me. Preston’s family is visiting and apparently his parents are very close with Richard. They knew him in college."

Addison saw the blood filling Callie’s face and quickly said, "He invited Mark, too. So ... I’ll be there. So will Meredith and Derek."

"So, you really will be watching me." Melana finished off her soup and glanced back at Callie. "Don’t worry, mi vida, there will be nothing to report. I’ve already told you that Richard and I are friends and nothing more."

"Are you going to call Daddy today?"

"I don’t think so." Melana stole an onion ring from Addison’s plate. "He’ll call me when he checks the bank account and sees the damage I intend to do."

True to her word, Melana insisted on treating the other two women to manicures, pedicures, and a trip to the salon. Addison decided at the spur of the moment, to have bangs cut into her hair and immediately regretted her choice. Callie consoled her by having six inches chopped off her own hair and pretended to be uncertain of the dramatic change, but she secretly loved it. The ends were blunt instead of curved and the layers around her face looked great. Pleased with the results, she didn’t grumble at all when they stopped at the make up counter at Macy’s. She let her mother buy her a pair of heels that were almost vulgar and put her new dress on in the fitting room. When she emerged ... she didn’t feel like the frumpy sidekick anymore.

She felt beautiful.

*~*~*~*~*~

Alex, who had gotten his wish and returned to work, was exhausted. He had spent most of the day in surgery with Mark. Plastics still held some appeal for him, but when he found out that there was a multiple birth inbound he had wanted to be a part of it so much that he came close to offering Meredith anything she wanted for the rest of the year to switch places with her. Neonatology was looking better and better and he found himself in the children’s ward more often than not, trying to find a surgeon that needed an extra hand. Being in plastics would be the most lucrative choice, but working with children would be the most gratifying. He was very glad that he didn’t have to choose his path yet because he simply did not know which field he wanted the most.

As he pulled into the driveway he had to smile. Callie was bent over the trunk of her car and the way her dress hugged her backside was enough to make his mouth water. This was his life, he thought. He had a beautiful home, a wonderful *wife* and he still needed to pinch himself most of the time to believe it. He parked in his spot in the garage and hopped out of the SUV, his exhaustion forgotten. Callie had that effect on him. She made him want to seize every waking moment and sleep as little as possible out of fear that he might miss a single second with her. He drew up short when he saw her much shorter hair. He was used to it being long enough to brush his thighs when she rode him and tossed her head back ... but it looked great, he decided.

Callie gave him a small grin when she turned and saw him. "If your first day back was anything like my first day back ... I bet you’re tired."

He let his gaze move over her body. The dress was clinging to her like a second skin and the heels she wore made her calves look like sin. "Damn. You look ..."

She had to chuckle when he put his hands on her waist and kissed her. "Alex?"

"Hmm?" He moved to her neck, where he nuzzled her soft skin and lightly grazed her ear with his teeth. "You smell so good. I like the hair, by the way."

She felt her body respond to his voice, the way he rasped the words against her throat, and bit her bottom lip. Her heart rate doubled when he slid his hands to her backside and tugged her a little closer. Letting her bags drop to the ground, she hugged him, her mouth finding his again. He turned her a little and she felt the the trunk of the car against her ass. He lifted her easily and she opened her legs as he moved between them, his hands moving up her bare thighs. When he pulled the leg of her panties aside and slipped a finger along her center, she shivered. "Oh god..."

He smiled and attacked her neck again, then the plunging neckline of her dress. Two fingers slipped into her and he felt her grasping at his shirt as his thumb massaged her clit. In slow, sensual circles, he manipulated her until she was wet, trembling, and begging him under her breath. He added a third finger and freed her breast, latching his lips over her erect nipple. She gripped his head, her fingers digging against his scalp and when he moved back and blew against her chest ... he felt her clamp around him and she came. Hard.

His mouth found hers again and he devoured the hoarse cries she couldn’t hold in. His let his fingers flutter slightly and she bucked against him. Knowing exactly how to touch her, how to make her crazy, he thumped against her g-spot and circled her clit with his thumb again. She cried his name and strained against him and when she came that time .... he had to hold her upright. "You got waxed," he said softly, rubbing the smooth flesh of her labia. "Is it tender?"

"Apparently."

Slipping his fingers from her, he brought them to his mouth. His eyes were on hers when he licked them clean. "Did you have a good day?"

"I can’t think when you’re doing that." She watched his tongue, licking her bottom lip with her own.

He kissed her, sucking at her lip until it was even plumper than usual. "I missed you today. I called you several times."

"I didn’t have my phone with me."

"To avoid me?" He reached between her legs and pulled her panties back in place.

"No. To avoid carrying a phone with a dead battery all day." She came close to protesting when he lifted her off the trunk and set her back on her feet. Her legs felt like jelly and she wanted nothing more than to climb into the back of his SUV, hike her skirt up, and beg him to take her. Instead, she pulled her bra back across her exposed breast and straightened her sleeves. "Did you have a good day?"

"Not until just now." He shifted a little in the hopes of inconspicuously moving the front of his pants off his straining cock, but it was no use. Pained, he bent down and grabbed the bags from the ground, holding one of the largest in front of himself. "For someone who hates shopping, you always manage to find shoes and handbags."

"Look up woman in the dictionary. It’ll tell you that we need those things more than oxygen." She glanced down at the strategically placed bag. "Why don’t you let me return the favor?"

His hard on throbbed and he shifted again. "What did you have in mind?"

"I’ve been told that I could suck a bowling ball through a water hose."

Alex dropped the bags and grabbed her again, his tongue tangling with hers. He fumbled with the controls on the wall until he was able to lower the garage doors and then he pulled her to the corner just in case Melana started looking for them. His hands moved to his belt, but she pushed them away and unbuckled it herself. He felt like a high school virgin getting his first blow job under the bleachers when he leaned back against the side of his vehicle. She kneeled in front of him and took him into her mouth and he struggled hard not to come right then. Closing his eyes, he let her work her magic and when he warned her that he was close, that she should move, she simply pumped him even harder, humming softly, and he exploded in the back of her throat.

He watched her lick him clean the same way he had licked his fingers.

It was enough to buckle his legs.

She smiled and pushed herself to her feet. "I heard a rumor that we may be going for a weekend trip."

He nodded at her, unable to form words at all.

"I heard another rumor that you’d be apologizing for trying to leave me again with a full body massage."

Alex grinned, nodding once more.

"And I think it’s safe to say that you’ll be doing *all* the cooking *and* the cleaning."

"You’re pushing it."

"We’ll see."

He pulled her into his arms and held on tight. They weren’t okay, but they were getting there and for the first time in a very long time ... Alex wasn’t terrified that she would vanish from his sight without a backward glance on her part. Giving her a soft kiss, he opened the garage and led her inside their house. Chunk was standing at the back door, looking in at them and when he spotted Callie, he leaped up, planting his big paws on the glass. Melana walked out of the kitchen and shook her head. "He’s made a mess in the kennel. He shredded his toys."

"I’ll get it," Alex said, winking at Callie.

Melana cleared her throat and regarded her daughter.

"What?" Callie asked.

Pointing at the television, Mel walked back into the kitchen. A moment later, Callie joined her, crimson faced.

"Perhaps you should remember that your father spared no expense with the security system." Mel dropped fresh chicken into flour for frying as she glanced up again. "I’ve seen you on your knees with your face in unspeakable places twice today. Perhaps you should pray while you’re down there."

"You told me to speak more with my body."

Melana lifted a brow. "Well, I suppose that with your mouth full you can’t really run it."

"This is so embarrassing."

"Humiliation is good for the soul."

"Soooo embarrassing."

"Your father’s mother caught me doing the same thing to him when I was pregnant with you and Cam. She scared me so much that I almost bit -"

"Blech! STOP!" Callie shoved her fingers into her ears and fled the room.

Melana laughed the entire time she prepared dinner.

*~*~*~*~*~

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Addison was sitting on the floor of their very vacant third bedroom with her face buried in her hands. Her sobs had alerted Mark to her whereabouts and she glanced up in time to see him put his hands on his hips and glare at her. "You never repaired the heating problem in this room! It’s cold! Eskimos would *die* in here."

"Well, I don’t see any Eskimos so we’re okay."

"You said you would fix it! You never keep your word!"

Mark scratched his chin as he watched her face fall. He had heard people say that women changed when you married them, but the one eighty that her personality had taken was so out of the ordinary it shocked him. "Addison -"

"I didn’t marry very well, did I? You are not a very good handyman!"

"And you are not a very sane woman so I didn’t marry very well either, psycho." He stalked into the room and held his hand out. "Come on. Get up."

"You have to put heat in here! You have to! And you have to work on the bottom cabinet in the kitchen that you keep claiming you’re going to repair. Because it hangs open and how in the hell are we supposed to baby proof it if it won’t even close, Mark!? And there are loose rocks in the fireplace which would give a baby a concussion if it tried to pull up! And don’t even get me started on the -"

"Stop talking unless you can make sense!" Mark squatted down in front of her. "Is this why you’re upset? Because our house isn’t baby proofed? It’s not like you’re -"

"Here!" Addison cried, flinging a white piece of cloth at him. "I didn’t really put Montgomery on the lab coats I ordered. I put Sloan. Just Sloan."

"If you’re this fucking upset about being a Sloan then just keep your last name! Damn it, woman, you’ve gone crazy!"

"WOULD YOU JUST LOOK AT IT!?!?!"

He shook the coat open and held it up. "This is too big for you. Wait ... is this one of mine?"

She nodded yes, then covered her face. "Just read it!"

Mark turned it around. "You wrote on it!? With a Sharpie!? Addy, what the -"

He trailed off and she knew that he had seen what was written there. She kept her eyes firmly closed because if he looked disappointed or upset ... it would kill her. It felt like an eternity passed and the tears that had dried up out of fear began to fall freely again. "Mark, say something."

When he sniffled, she looked at him, expecting the worst. He was grinning ear to ear, however, and there were tears of obvious joy on his cheeks. His fingers traced the words ‘Daddy’ on his white coat and he laughed, shaking his head. "It’s about damn time, sweetheart."

"You’re happy? But you said ‘thank god that’s not us’ when we were at the bakery and -"

"Is that what set you off last night? Is that why you cried yourself to sleep thinking I didn’t know?"

She wiped her nose on a tissue. "You made it seem like you weren’t ready and ... well, I am. I really want this."

He didn’t say anything. He simply got to his feet, scooped her up, and carried her into their bedroom. He deposited her on the bed and pulled her heels off, taking a moment to massage the angry looking marks on her feet. "I don’t know why you wear these things." he said, moving his hands up her calves, which he rubbed until she was moaning from joy. "Feel good?"

"If you moved a lot higher ... it would feel better."

Wasting no time, he pulled her panties down and lifted the bottom of her dress, pressing his lips to her stomach. "Hey, Mark Junior."

She pushed herself up on her elbows and scowled at him. "One of you is enough."

"It’s a boy. My boy. And my boy will be named after me."

"Maybe it’s a girl."

"Nah, it’s a boy. I can tell."

"How can you tell?"

"Because he’s making you cry all the time ... just like his dad."

"Oh Christ ... it *is* a boy."

Mark gave her a knowing smile and lowered his head between her legs. She dug her toes into the comforter and pushed herself up against his face. He didn’t make her beg, but he loved her slowly and thoroughly. His mouth had touched every inch of her body by they time they collapsed, sated, against the bed. Smiling, she kissed his shoulder. "Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"We’re having a baby."

He rolled onto his side and beamed at her, his hand instinctively resting on her stomach. "Yes, we are."

"I’m so excited."

"So am I. You’re going to be a wonderful mother. This kid is already so lucky."

Her eyes filled with tears and she rested her hand on his cheek. "Yeah, he is. You’re gonna be one hell of a dad."

With a resigned sigh, he rolled on top of her again. "I was all set to go to sleep until you said that. Now I have to thank you."

She wrapped her legs around him and moaned when he slipped into her. Feeling happier than she could ever remember, she kissed him. They were ready for a baby, she decided, as he pulled back and slammed into her again. She could barely wait for the next chapter. When he fell asleep a while later, she watched him for close to an hour ... imagining the look on his face when he held their child for the first time. She could only pray it was the complete opposite of the look he had when she told him she had aborted their first baby. She put her hand against her belly and closed her eyes. ‘Don’t feel too happy,’ she thought, ‘you didn’t want the first one and the powers that be could take this one in the blink of an eye.’

She didn’t get much sleep that night.

*~*~*~*~*~

"What do you mean you have to work?" Burke’s hands rested on Cristina’s hips, which had moved in ways he never imagined hips could move. He was still reeling from the mind blowing orgasm when she announced that she would be missing dinner that weekend. "You have the entire week off."

"I was supposed to. Callie said she needed me."

"Well, call her and tell her you can’t work, Cristina. I told you about it a couple of days ago. This is a very important dinner. A wedding party, actually."

"I don’t want a wedding party. I told *you* that days ago." She tried to distract him by rotating seductively. "We are supposed to keep our marriage a secret for a while. It’s *ours* and I thought we’d keep it that way."

"Well, I don’t plan on taking my ring off so I’m sure people are going to figure it out."

"Come on, don’t make it weird."

"Either you tell Callie that you can’t work or I will."

"But -"

"Marriage is about compromise."

"Right. You’re right. So, compromise and cancel this party thing."

Preston sat up, brushing her hair over her shoulder. He kissed her chin, then her lips. "Don’t you mean ... cancel my parents?"

Cristina laughed. It was a horrible, maniacal laugh that was supposed to sound shocked out of her senses, but she knew it sounded guilty ... like she had been found out. "No! I just -"

"You just?"

"You’re mother tried to murder me with your family necklace. It choked me half to death. She will use her bare hands when she finds out that we eloped without her. She will probably hold me down and shave my *head* instead of just my eyebrows."

"She explained the eyebrow thing," Burke replied. "She had never worked on anyone Asian and couldn’t decide how to shape them."

"Pulling the race card after you scalp someone’s face is just as bad as calling me ‘Mulan’, which she kept doing."

"She *likes* that movie."

"But she doesn’t *like* me." Cristina slipped off his lap and retrieved her panties from the floor. "I don’t want to have to deal with poorly hidden scorn or backhanded compliments. We’re happy, Preston. We’re really, truly happy and I thought that that happiness would extend past this week and not end with a stupid dinner where I have a target on my forehead and your mother has the darts."

"It won’t be like that."

"You don’t know that!"

"Neither do you!" Burke got to his feet. "My mother is all about saving face, Cristina. I’ve invited *everyone* to dinner. She won’t be rude to you in front of them because she thinks that embarrassing me is a mortal sin. It will be *fine*."

"You don’t-"

"Come back to bed."

"I don’t want -"

Preston kissed her, lifting her off her feet. He dropped her back onto the bed and followed her, kissing her legs, her hips. "You underestimate me," he told her, laving her nipple. "You’re my *wife* now and if you think I’ll let my mother say or do *anything* to you ... then you don’t know me at all. I love you, Cristina, and if she can’t love you just because I do ... then it’s her loss."

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie changed the schedule for Cristina, putting Izzie back on duty. The blond didn’t mind. Eros was apparently working the weekend after all and she actually leapt for joy at the prospect of spending time with him. The remainder of the week passed in warp speed for all parties concerned. Irene was still on suspension so Callie ate in the cafeteria with Alex. Because Dr. Bailey was trying to cram everything that a Chief Resident should know into three remaining days, Callie was exhausted every night and usually fell asleep the second her head hit the pillow. She had great intentions when it came to making up with her husband, but she was simply too exhausted to do more than kiss him and he seemed to be so grateful to be back in their bed that he was content to spoon against her every night.

By the time their shift ended on Friday afternoon, Callie was already yawning. They stopped at the grocery store for enough food to stock Goon Docks for the weekend with and then headed for the cove. Melana had enlisted Leon to load their bags onto the yacht and she ushered them forward, forcing them to bypass the house entirely lest they change their minds about the trip. The older woman kissed them both, told them to be careful, then clicked her tongue at Chunk, who followed her back down the trail without a backwards glance.

"She stole my dog," Callie said, watching her mother disappear through the trees.

"Come on. We need to get going so we can fuel up before -"

"We need to talk first."

"Okay."

She leaned against the railing on the deck and crossed her arms over her chest. She decided that her posture was too confrontational and opted to put her hands in her pockets instead. "I’m doing this with you because I’m not ready to say goodbye. I’m doing this because I want to fix what’s broken with us and try to make it work, but I need you to understand that I’ve had enough."

"What do you -"

"You always apologize. You always say that you’ll never leave again and that you really, really mean it. And I always believe you because I love you and I *want* to have faith in you." She gazed into his eyes for a few seconds. "But I don’t. Not anymore. So I’m telling you before we even attempt this that I’m *done*. The next time you leave is the last time, Alex, because that’s it. I’m telling you up front that the next time you go ... I won’t take you back. I’ll file for divorce and leave."

His jaw tightened and he looked away. "I never thought I’d hear you say that."

"I never thought I’d have to say it." She could see his heart slamming against his chest through his shirt and it broke her own. She stepped forward and hugged him. He didn’t hesitate when it came to hugging her back. "I want us to be okay, Jock Strap. I do. But we can’t be okay if we’re not together and every time you leave me ... you tear me apart."

"You won’t believe me when I say this ... but I really get that now and I won’t leave again."

She eased back and nodded. "I hope you can keep your word ... so I don’t have to keep mine."

Alex took a deep breath. "We should go."

"Are you sure?"

"I am."

Callie let him help her onto the yacht. She did the routine check of gauges while he stowed their groceries in the galley. It took thirty minutes to pull away from the cove and they headed straight into a fiery and blazing sunset. It was beautiful and when Alex reached over and took her hand, she smiled at him. "Where do you want to go?"

"I’m already in the best place I can be. So, you decide."

"Well, we have to be careful because there are a lot of whales migrating and -"

"Whales?"

"Whales," she repeated. "We can head toward Alaska to see them, but we’ll have to be on the lookout for ice. I don’t really want to go out like Rose and Jack in ‘Titanic’, though."

"Don’t talk like that." Alex glanced over the side of the yacht as if expecting to see whales and ice already. "Maybe we should hang around Puget Sound and hope for the best."

In the end, they decided to head for open ocean. They dropped their anchor at Neah Bay, leaving the relative safety of Puget Sound and Seattle behind them. As Callie powered down the engine, a faint drumming could be heard. She stood on her toes to get a better view of the shoreline, which was dotted with small fires.

Alex joined her, his arms around her waist. "What is it?"

"Maybe we should go somewhere else. The Makah Indian Tribe may not like us being so close."

Resting his chin on her shoulder, he felt her shiver. "Let’s go below deck, Gothika. You’re freezing."

The drumming intensified as they headed downstairs.

Alex announced that he would make dinner and urged Callie to take a bath. Considering the fact that she yawned the entire time she was agreeing with him, he should have known better. When he went into the bedroom to tell her that their food was ready, she was stretched out on the bed, breathing deeply. He forgot about his hunger completely when he crawled in next to her and closed his eyes. It felt like coming home. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed living on the yacht and sleeping with her in the much smaller full sized bed. Their king sized bed at the house was just too big and he made a mental note to suggest a smaller one. Hell, even a twin sized one. Anything to be closer to her.


He fell asleep thinking that he hair smelled like honey.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Hello?"

"So, you finally answer the phone."

Melana sighed. "What do you want, Raphael?"

"To talk to my wife."

"What was I when you were lying to me? When you were endangering our daughter? When you were absent from our marriage for *weeks* at a time? Was I your wife then?"

"Mi vida, you have been my wife forever ... long before we said I do."

"Sweet nothings are more nothing than sweet."

"Honey, please ... just ... talk to me. I miss you so much. Your pillow still smells like your perfume and I don’t want to get out of the bed in the morning because it feels like you’re there. For just a moment ... it’s like you’re there. God, Melana, I need you to be there."

The stack of letters that Callie had brought back from Greece rested in Mel’s lap, unopened. She had been cradling them against her chest when Raphael called and she answered because she needed to hear his voice. "I’ve always been there. You’re the one who was so capricious about leaving me."

"Come home."

"Even if I wanted to ... which I don’t ... I can’t. I’m house sitting for Calliope. She’s taken a weekend trip with Alex to work on their marriage."

"How are they doing?"

"Better than us."

Raphael didn’t say anything right away. When he finally did speak, his voice was soft. "I could be there in the morning. We could -"

"I don’t think so. I have plans."

"Plans?"

Melana smiled when she replied. "Richard invited me to dinner and I -"

"Richard?"

"Chief Webber."

"WHAT!?"

"You mean our daughter didn’t tell you? I confess myself stunned. You would have been proud of her. She fought valiantly in your defense when I had Richard here."

"When you *had* him?"

"For dinner." She crossed her ankles, imagining her husband pacing angrily across the floor in Miami. "You should sit down. You’re breathing very hard."

"Are you sleeping with him!?"

"You know me much better than that."

"THEN WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?"

"If you are going to swear at me ... I’m hanging up."

Raphael ended the phone call. Melana cackled with glee, rubbing Chunk’s head when left his cushion, trotted to the edge of the bed and put his head on her lap. She patted the mattress and he hopped up beside her, gazing at her with adoration. "Your grandfather is not a very happy camper right now. If you think your mommy can pitch a tantrum, Chunky, you just wait and see what Papi can do."

Gucci, who had been content to sit on top of the bureau, apparently felt the same burst of jealousy that Raphael had experienced because he gave an earsplitting shriek and leaped to the bed. Chunk barely acknowledged the primate as he rested his jowls on Mel’s legs and closed his eyes. The monkey scrambled to the letters and picked one up, trying to be more helpful than the dog. Hugging Gucci to her chest, Melana took the letter and opened it. "This is the first letter that he ever wrote me. I was quite angry at him for leaving me. I needed him. My father had been murdered, my mother was catatonic, and I carried a baby that needed me to be strong. I was only ever strong with Raphael so his abandonment was hard to swallow. I held onto this missive for days ... that’s why it looks so worn. I could recite it to you from memory, Gucci, but I won’t."

Taking extra care not to tear the old paper, she cleared her throat. "My Dearest Melana, I’ve only been gone from you for two hours, but it feels like every mile that separates us is a year. Or ten. The helicopter is loud and this journey will take two days, but instead of concentrating on the task at hand ... like I’ve been trained to do ... my thoughts are with you. It’s so hard to believe that you became my wife just two days ago. I knew that when I saw you the first time at the market that I would love you. Luckily for me, your heart matches your outer beauty and I have not hied myself to a beautiful demon. And you are beautiful, my love. I keep imagining the way you looked as you walked down the aisle toward me. You seemed to float like an angel. My angel.

"I pray that I won’t be kept from you overlong. It would take me a lifetime to tell you how much leaving you has wounded me. You were so brave not to cry, baby, but I fear that I have cried enough for the both of us. I never understood love until you. I never knew what it would feel like to have someone touch your soul with their own, but that’s what you do to me. You’re the greatest love of my life and our child, the one that you are nourishing with your body right now, will be our greatest accomplishment. I think he must know that he was conceived from something more magical than either of us can voice. Please ... say an extra good night to him from me until I can return, press my lips against your stomach, and do it myself.

"I won’t be gone long. I refuse to be gone long. What I’ve heard thus far is that I will be briefed on what I know about The Triad and the explosion and then my duty will be to return to your side. I was sent to Greece to protect you and your family in your father’s stead and I see no reason for that to change. You all still need guardianship ... perhaps now more than ever. Your mother is certainly in no position to afford you the kind of security that I can. I guard you with more than guns, Melana. I guard you with my love and that is stronger than a million explosives.

"Please do not hold this against me. I return to the States because I am honor bound to do so, but only my body is making this journey. My soul is, as ever, with you. I know that I have let you down by keeping secrets from you, but I pray you know that my intentions, my reasonings for doing so, were pure. I’m sure that even now it is all an enigma to you and I long for the day that I can be more forthright. You deserve to know everything and I pray that you view me as deserving of your understanding. The command was just issued for us to ready ourselves to land. I want to mail this immediately so that you may get it quickly. I will say goodbye for now, my love, but know that I would be much happier saying hello. Forever yours, Raphael."

Gucci scampered to the end table, where he pulled a Kleenex from the box. He dabbed at Mel’s cheeks, his head cocked to one side in confusion. She scooped him up and buried her face against his neck. "Oh, how I longed for him to come back. With each passing day I grew angrier and less understanding to his plight. I felt exactly the way I feel right now, Guc. I believe I’ve read enough for one night. Let’s go to sleep, shall we?"

The monkey refused to leave her side. He tolerated sleeping next to Chunk in order to remain close to her.

*~*~

In Miami, Raphael had a tantrum the likes of which would have shocked Callie ... who had mastered the art at a very young age. He broke glasses, smashed photos, and picked up his unpacked luggage, sending the contents all over the living room. Two leather bound books he had never seen before went flying across the hardwood floor. He sank to his knees to retrieve them ... because walking under the weight of the world had gotten too heavy to bear. It took him just a few seconds to realize what he held in his hands. Sitting in the floor, amidst the carnage he had caused ... he opened the oldest of the two journals and began to read. His fingers trailed the familiar sloping flourish of Melana’s handwriting and as he turned page after page ... he fell in love with his wife all over again.

*~*~*~*~*~

In one of the most remote regions of the Greek Isles, the Commissioner sat with his fingers steepled just below his chin. His partners, the other two branches of The Triad, had gone over their roles in The Plan and he nodded as it sank in. They waited with bated breath as he gazed at the maps on the wall, then nodded. "And how many casualties can you predict?" he finally asked, his tone calm and steady.

"Thousands," replied Aban, the delegate from Iraq. "Americans are known for gathering in one place ... like maggots on a carcass. It makes it so easy."

"I agree," said Pierre de la Fontaine, the leader of the French branch. "They won’t know what hit them."

The Commissioner looked thoughtful, but it was not remorse that put the expression on his face. "We should synchronize our watches, Gentlemen. America will fall to her knees Sunday morning and I daresay we’ll want to be wide awake for it."

"I can barely wait," declared Aban, rubbing his hands together. "The memory of September Eleventh has provided me with many sweet dreams and we were only marginally responsible for that. This ... this is our own design."

Chuckling, the Commissioner opened a box and pulled out three Cuban cigars. "It’s even sweeter to know that Raphael Torres and his meddling daughter will see our mark and have no way of alerting the authorities without implicating themselves."

Pierre lit his cigar and puffed proudly, looking like an overstuffed peacock thanks to the Fedora he wore. His rheumy eyes and moist lips gave him the distinction of looking slimy and when he coughed over the smoke, he blew a string of saliva from his mouth that hung over his double chin. He wiped it away once he got his lungs under control and smiled balefully. "I only indulge in smoking when the occasion calls for it. I intend to savor this cigar."

Aban, whose eyes had been drawn to the man’s wobbling, spittle covered chins, nodded in agreement. "I only wish we could be there to see it all in person."

"You know that their media outlets are like vultures. It will be like having a front row seat." Pierre smiled at both of his friends. "And our mole on the inside of the Torres family will be able to keep us updated on their distress. Perhaps it will drive them both to the brink of insanity."

"You would have to be sane to become insane. I don’t think anyone in the family suffers from from sanity." With a regal wave of his hand, the Commissioner indicated to his butler that another round of drinks would be needed. "Let us complete our planning, kind sirs. We don’t want to leave any loose ends."

"Or survivors." Aban laughed raucously. "This moment has been several years in the making. I only wish Xeno was here to see it."

The butler filled their snifters with more brandy and stepped back, his eyes large in their sockets. The Commissioner lifted his glass into the air. "To Xenos Karakas, who should have been in my seat today."

"Don’t sell yourself short, Cambyses," replied Pierre, "you have filled your grandfather’s shoes quite well over the years. And your Uncle Xeno would be proud."

*~*~*~*~*~*~
CH 19
know you deserve much better
Remember the time I told you the way that I felt
And that I'd be lost without you and never find myself
Let's hold onto each other above everything else
Start over, start over

I'll do whatever it takes
To turn this around
I know what's at stake
I know that I've let you down
And if you give me a chance
Believe that I can change
I'll keep us together
Whatever it takes

*~*~*~*~*~*~


Alex awoke with a gasp and instinctively reached for Callie. Her side of the bed was empty, however, and he pushed himself upright, scanning the room. The remnants of the nightmare were impossible to shake, even when he padded into the bathroom and splashed his face with water. Callie had been drunk enough in his dream for it to kill her and he had begged, pleaded, and threatened her until he was at his wit’s end, but she would not surrender the bottle. The last thing he remembered was seeing her eyes roll back into her head and Chief Webber pronouncing her dead. Rivulets of sweat ran between his shoulder blades despite how cool the bathroom was and when he pulled his jeans on, his hands were shaking. It had been that real. Dressing fast, he left the bedroom.

Callie was not in the galley, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the fresh bagels they had picked up the previous night were on the counter. At least she had eaten something. Her weight was a constant source of concern for him. She would lose and gain the way most women changed their shoes. You could tell if she was happy by whether or not her face was full and round ... which he preferred. He was about to reach for a bagel of his own when someone shouted outside the yacht. He abandoned the galley and raced topside in time to see a man in a small boat screaming obscenities at the shore.

"Hey," Callie said softly.

Alex turned and saw that she was sitting comfortably in the captain’s chair. Her face was filled with color because of the cold and he opened his mouth to tell her that she needed a bigger coat on when he saw the line of boats just behind Goon Docks. There were colorful signs hanging from the side of each boat and people holding signs dotted every available surface. "What the hell, Gothika?"

"This sucks." She sighed and indicated the shoreline. "Apparently the Makah Indians are whalers and today they’re going hunting. Those guys," she pointing a thumb over her shoulder, "are protesters. It got pretty ugly about an hour ago. I thought someone would get harpooned. I called the Coast Guard, but they haven’t gotten here yet."

He sat down beside her, eyeing the melee with apprehension. "Let’s leave."

"Well, I’d love to leave, Alex, but those asshats have decided to drop all kinds of nets and lines in the water that will get tangled up in the propeller. It’s their way of keeping the Makah people from getting out into open water." Scratching the side of her face, she shrugged. "But there is a silver lining."

"There is?"

She got to her feet, then sat down in his lap, nuzzling his cheek. "We’re alone, sorta, and I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling pretty nostalgic. I’ve been up here thinking about that day in the hospital when you kissed me for the first time. I don’t know if I ever told you, but I put on that stupid brown dress and -"

"I happen to be very fond of that dress."

Grinning, she gave him a kiss. "I put on that *stupid* brown dress and everyone was reacting to the new and improved me ... but you’re the only one that I wanted to see me. I think I knew I was falling in love with you even then. I *wanted* to fall in love with you."

"I’ve been remembering things, too. And if memory serves, you absolutely freaked out over me saying the word ‘love’ and decided that being eaten alive by a shark was better than going there with me."

"Wrong." She shook her head. "I freaked about *me* saying it because I had a complex about it. In my experience ... when you say those words ... your life goes to hell in a handbag." Giving him a smile she added, "Thanks for proving me wrong."

"Thanks for letting me." Alex pushed her hair back and cupped her cheek, his thumb trailing over her lips. "I’ve really missed you, baby."

"I missed you, too."

He opened his mouth to tell her that he hoped they never fought again, but the protesters behind them upped their taunts and he rolled his eyes. "How long ago did you call the Coast Guard?"

She checked her watch. "About an hour and a half. It’s weird. I’ve never heard of them taking so long."

As if on cue, a loud siren blared and Callie got to her feet. Alex followed suit and they watched as three boats approached. A man sat in front of each, checking the water for the nets she had warned them about, which they pulled onto their vessels with large metal hooks. It took close to an hour for the water to be cleared completely and by then, the guards had issued strong warnings to the hecklers and several had cleared out. A female guard boarded Goon Docks to thank them for the tip and gave the couple advice that both Alex and Callie found peculiar.

She told them to stay close to land and not sail north.

And the Coast Guard actually went so far as to escort Goon Docks toward Oregon instead of the prime whale viewing area that Callie had been heading for near the Gulf of Alaska. She glanced at Alex and let the engine idle when the escort boats went back the way they had come, leaving Goon Docks bobbing near the shore. "Why do they not want us going north?"

"I have no clue, but now I’m worried so let’s take their word for it. You remember that little Oregon town we stopped at on the way home from Disneyland?"

"Yeah."

"Let’s go back there. We said that we would and I’m in the mood to stretch my legs."

She studied his expression. "Are you okay?"

He thought of the nightmare that had awoken him and the apprehension he had been feeling as they were escorted away from the protesters felt a million times worse than it had. "Not really. I dreamed that you died last night."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah. You drank yourself to death. Right in front of me."

"There’s no chance of that," she replied, reaching out to take his hand.

Alex didn’t speak for a few moments. When he did, his voice was low. "Are you sure?"

"I am." She gave him a small grin. "So, that town you were talking about had a seafood restaurant that looked pretty good. You in the mood for crab?"

"Always," he said as he watched her throttle forward. Her assurance that she would not drink again, which in her case could easily be a death sentence, would have made him feel a lot better if she had not changed the subject so quickly.

Alex was not a stupid man. He knew that Callie had a very real problem with alcohol, but he wanted to believe her, he needed to believe her, when she said that she would not do it again. His father had been a slave to the bottle, lashing out at anyone and everything that he viewed as standing in the way and the man had never acknowledged it, never said that he would stop. Instead, his father, appropriately called ‘Buster’ by anyone who knew him, insisted that he was fine and only suffered from having a rough life. Callie, on the other hand, admitted that she had an addiction ... so she was *nothing* like his father.

Only in a way ... she was.

And it was that part of her, the unpredictable and untamed thirst for drunkenness, that terrified him to the core.

"Did I tell you that Addison’s pregnant?" Callie asked suddenly, cutting through his thoughts.

What could only be described as jealousy cut Alex to the bone. He listened to her ramble about Addison’s neurotic behavior and smiled and nodded at all the right moments, but inside, he felt pang after pang of longing. They should have had a baby first, he thought. If Callie had gotten pregnant on their honeymoon ... she never would have drank again or performed in the air show. It would have made all the difference in the world. He hated himself for thinking it, but their life would have been much better with a baby on the way. Callie seemed oblivious to his troubled thoughts and cheerfully rambled on and on for a while.

By noon, they had docked at the same quaint seaside town that had captivated the both of them before. He tied the yacht off and stepped onto the dock, holding his hand out to her. She let him help her step down and said, "Alex?"

"Hmm?"

"Maybe our five year plan should be a three year plan."

He held his breath, unable to believe he had heard her correctly. They had mapped it all out before they got married, deciding to try for a baby only after he completed his residency. Telling themselves that waiting was the smart thing to do had sounded great at the time, but five years felt like five million when faced with the reality of it.

She watched him, not saying another word. When he simply returned her gaze, she sighed, "Or not ... if you’re gonna freak about it."

Alex exhaled. "I think our three year plan should be a one year plan. I’m ready for a family, Callie. More than ready."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Callie put her arms around his neck. "So, we have a *one* year plan. And that’ll work out perfectly because I can make Addison give me everything that her baby outgrows."

Alex felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He hugged her tight, lifting her off her feet. It felt like winning the lottery and Christmas morning rolled into one. With his mouth against her ear, he said, "You’ll have to stop taking the Depo shots now, Gothika."

"Then I guess it works out that I didn’t keep my appointment Friday to get it done."

He set her down and narrowed his eyes at her. "You *planned* this!"

"Addison was being all braggy about being pregnant and I can share my family with her and be her best friend ... but I’m *so* not letting her have a kid that much longer than me."

He tugged her into his arms again, holding on with all that he had. "Just so you know ... we are *never* fighting again."

"Thank God," she replied, breaking his grip. "Because I’m tired of always winning."

She pinched his side and took off running.

He chased after her and knew that he’d never doubt her again.

*~*~*~*~*~

Cristina slumped in her chair as Jane Burke glared at her from across the table. Preston’s announcement that they had gotten married had been met with resounding cheers ... except from his mother and she had resolutely crossed her arms and glared at Cristina as if Burke had announced that he had been castrated. When their salads arrived, Mama decided to remind Cristina that Preston was allergic to tomato so she should abstain from eating it to be safe. Dutifully scooping the tomato from her plate, Cristina passed it to Meredith who simply raised her eyebrows. When the pork chops arrived, Mama questioned Cristina’s devotion to Judaism and took the news that Yang was not practicing it with the same scandalized face that she had utilized when she found out that Cristina was Jewish to begin with.

When Mama began to question Cristina’s upbringing, going so far as to call her a ‘cultural mutt’, Melana cleared her throat and put her own fork down with a thud. All eyes fell on her, but she kept her gaze firmly locked with Jane’s. "That’s a lovely necklace that you’re wearing."

Mama nodded at her and looked at the cascade of emerald’s at her throat. "And yours as well. Is it Cartier?"

"It was a gift from my husband. It was his own design." Reaching up, Melana rested her fingers on the largest of the emeralds. A smile tugged the corner of her lips when she remembered Raphael presenting it to her over twenty years prior. Her heart ached at the memory and her fingers itched to grab her phone from her purse and call him.

"I see." Jane glanced at Richard. "You’re a widow?"

"My husband’s in Florida," Mel replied absently, still thinking of making the call.

One of Jane’s perfectly tweezed eyebrows danced upward. "And you’re here with Richard. Why?"

"Mother -" Preston began.

Melana gave him a dazzling smile before she looked back at Jane. "Richard and I are friends. He’s been taking excellent care of my daughter and -"

"Your daughter?"

"Callie," Melana replied. "Have you met her?"

"Wasn’t she one of your bridesmaids?" Jane asked Cristina. "The one who kept talking about her husband? What was his name? George?"

"That’s her," Cristina said with a nod. "But she got George out of her system and married Alex."

Jane gasped. "But - that wasn’t - it’s only been -"

"When it comes to love," Melana interjected. "Your heart doesn’t really know what time it is. Which is obviously the case with Preston and Cristina. It wasn’t their time before, but it is now and I think that we should all remember that we’re here to celebrate a wedding ... not cultural differences."

Jane’s mouth tightened so much that she looked like she had been sucking a lemon. "There was no wedding to celebrate! They’ve eloped and deprived me of watching my only son get married!"

"I know your pain." Melana lifted her fork again and casually speared a piece of broccoli. "When Callie eloped I was devastated and I lost several weeks by holding a grudge and not returning her calls. I was incredibly disappointed. I would have loved an elopement dinner. I would have loved to be included in *something* so count your blessings, Jane, because you’re here to celebrate the *rest* of their life and not just one of many milestones."

"That’s very true." Preston put a reassuring hand on top of Cristina’s. "Please refrain from saying anything else negative, Mama, because we’re happy. And if you can’t be happy ... then you can’t be here."

Jane excused herself and went to the restroom in a ladylike huff. When no one made a move to follow, Melana rose and trailed behind her, standing in front of the long mirror over the sink to powder her nose. When Jane emerged from the stall and washed her hands, Mel spoke again. "You don’t have to like Cristina, but you have to like Preston because he’s *yours*."

"I don’t feel the need to discuss this with you."

"Is Burke your only child?"

"Yes."

"I understand your desire to look out for his best interests. I do." Melana snapped her compact shut and slipped it into her purse. "But I also understand that once our children are grown we can only guide them so far. Preston chose his path and the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with so instead of making it hard on them both, sit back and watch them together. You’ll see that he chose wisely."

"You don’t know *anything* about that girl. She’s -"

"Yes, I do," Melana corrected. "Callie was almost raped a few weeks ago and Cristina showed up to bathe her every night so she wouldn’t have to be embarrassed in front of us. At Callie’s wedding, it was Cristina who held my hand after the bride and groom left and it was Cristina who called me in August to talk her through preparing a dish that Preston fancied. She said he’d had a stressful day and she wanted to cook him a real meal. We talked for two hours and I have no doubt that she loves him in a way that any mother would hope for their child."

"Why didn’t she call me!? I know what foods he likes!"

"She didn’t call you because you probably would have degraded her even more over the phone than you did tonight in front of her friends." Melana straightened her purse and her shoulders. "Don’t make the mistakes that I did. I cut my son out of my life for *years* because I didn’t approve of his boyfriend. Now that I’ve come to my senses ... I know that I gained another son, just like I gained a son with Callie’s husband."

Jane’s eyes filled with tears. "But she -"

"You don’t have to say that you have an only child anymore. This is an exciting chance for you to embrace a bigger family and experience what having a daughter is all about. She’s a good girl, Jane. She’s a wonderful friend to my daughter, she’s one hell of a doctor, and she’s got your son wrapped around her little finger. If you gave her a chance ... I bet she’d wrap you around the other one."

Jane sighed when Melana squeezed her hand. "We wanted a big family. I was pregnant ... with a girl ... and we had a car accident. They took the baby and my womb with her."

"I’m very sorry to hear that." Melana instinctively hugged her. "I know that it’s hard to be shut out of a part of your son’s life, but like I said earlier, he’s inviting you into the best of it so meet him halfway. A wedding is, after all, *one* day. It’s what you do with the rest that matters."

"Thank you," Jane replied, grabbing a tissue to blot at her eyes. "I’m sorry to hear about the attack on your daughter. I hope she’s recovering well. She was delightful the day the girls all tried on wedding attire."

"My daughter was delightful while trying on *dresses*? Apparently you have mistaken her with someone else." Melana chuckled. "Now, I don’t know about you, but I could always use another friend so before we leave tonight let’s exchange phone numbers and perhaps we can get together to lament our children again soon."

The two women made their way back to the table, chattering animatedly with one another about the French Provincial chandeliers that hung over every table. When they sat back down, the dessert arrived and Jane, in a complete about face, lifted her fluted champagne glass and made a toast to her son and his new bride. Cristina’s eyes found Melana’s and she grinned when the older woman winked at her.

Melana thought, as she dug into her chocolate mousse, that she had missed her calling as a motivational speaker. She could usually get anyone to see things her way and if speaking with kindness and reason didn’t do it, her shouting usually could. She had certainly shouted enough at Raphael to make her point of view loud and clear. Painfully clear.

As she finished off her dessert, she knew that the person being punished the most right now ... was her. She missed her husband. She missed the sanctity of their home and the familiarity of her things. She missed waking up in his arms and playfully debating whose turn it was to brew coffee. For over ten years, it had not been her turn and she doubted that would ever change, but it was a game they played and Raphael pretended to be annoyed, but his eyes shone brightly every time he brought her a steaming cup.

Melana missed her husband.

And the time that she had lost out on with Cambyses hung over her shoulders like a cloak. She had not exaggerated that to Jane. She wasn’t proud, but the truth was she had kept her distance from Cam for close to seven years. She saw him only when it was necessary, she never invited Blake into the equation, and she seized every opportunity to throw in a jab about his homosexuality. And Cambyses had forgiven her. He had looked past her shortcomings and embraced her with open arms.

So, she reasoned, as she glanced down at her purse again, she should do the same for Raphael. Because her children deserved a family holiday that was not overwrought with tension and *she* deserved the comfort of having her husband nearby because for most of her life, Raphael Benito Torres had been her rock, her heart, and her *everything*.

Melana was pulled from memory lane when Addison tapped her on the arm. "What is it, honey?"

Addy leaned a little closer to her. "I know this is a bad time to ask because it’s Cristina’s night and all, but I’m gonna eventually have this baby and, well, I always wanted my mom to be there, but ... would you? Do it, I mean? Be there. If you’re squeamish or -"

Melana’s eyes filled with tears. "I’ve had four children. Squeamish isn’t in my vocabulary. And I would *love* to be there."

"Yeah?"

Hugging her, Mel whispered, "Absolutely, sweetheart. And by the way, if you’d like me to paint a mural in the nursery just say the word."

"Consider it said. This baby was conceived in Greece so if you could bring that to him, that would be great," Addy replied, grinning at her. She glanced across the table at Jane, who was telling Cristina a story about Burke’s childhood and whatever it was clearly amused the younger woman and everyone around them. "Whatever you said -"

"You’ll join the mother club very soon and when you do, you’ll see that everything makes sense, words come easy, and you can do things you never dreamed possible. Just wait and see."

*~*~*~*~

Callie’s feet were killing her when she finally boarded Goon Docks. The sun was setting and her stomach was entirely too full of crab, but she sighed with contentment when Alex stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. They had enjoyed their day far too much. After having lunch at a small chain restaurant, they rented bicycles and toured the city, stopping to shop or indulge in too much chocolate at the local candy store. They poked around at an amusement park, took old fashioned saloon photos, and finally crashed at the seafood restaurant where they talked about everything. And nothing. It had been calm, relaxing, and they had laughed easily, stealing kisses, and holding hands.

That was what their marriage should have been all along.

With a happy sigh, Callie leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Look at that sky."

Alex obliged her, gazing up at the blazing colors that signaled the end of the day. "It’s beautiful."

She nodded. "I heard someone talking about the Northern Lights. Supposedly they’re going to be crystal clear tonight. We should go out further into the ocean and drop anchor away from the city. We’ll get a better view."

The apprehension that had plagued him most of the day came back in full force. "I don’t know. The Coast Guard -"

"They probably thought we were involved with the whaling thing." She turned and grinned at him. "Besides, if we go further out there," she pointed her thumb at the darkening ocean, "we can have a blast in the hot tub. Naked."

"I’m in," he replied instantly, untying the yacht from the dock. "Let’s go! What are you waiting for?"

She laughed and started the engine, carefully backing away from the mainland. She pointed Goon Docks back toward Seattle, flipping on all the running lights, and turned on the radio, listening to the chatter from other vessels. When Alex joined her a moment later with two bottles of water, she was frowning.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, leaning closer to her to check the gauges.

"Listen," she said, turning up the volume.

A conversation between two weary sounding crab fisherman was underway.

"They escorted me right out of the Gulf of Alaska without so much as an explanation. Just said that they were keeping the area clear because of a whale in distress. I’ve been on this water for over forty years and I’ve never heard of anything like it."

"I’m right there with you," replied the other man. "We were told to dock in Oregon. They didn’t even let us stay near Washington. I’m hearing reports all over the place that -"

A sudden burst of static had Callie adjusting the dial.

Every channel was fried and she turned the volume down, glancing skyward. She saw a small aircraft in the distance and shook her head. "If I didn’t know better I’d say that someone was jamming the airwaves."

"What does that mean?"

Callie turned the volume back up, meeting his eyes. "There’s no reason for the radio to be this scrambled. It’s a clear night, our antenna is just fine, and -" Something beeped suddenly and she looked down. The compass on Goon Dock’s dash was rolling in a perfect circle, pointing in no particular direction. A second later, she felt her earrings start to move and reached up, pushing her hair behind her ear. Slipping off the left one, she let it dangle from her fingers and watched it whip in a circle. Her eyes went back to the plane, which was now almost overhead. The compass and the earring continued to swirl erratically and when the plane finally cleared and moved to the south, everything calmed. The radio came back up as well.

Swallowing hard, Callie followed the aircraft with her eyes. "As soon as the sun comes up ... we’re going home."

"Why wait?"

She glanced back down at the gauges. "Because it’s gonna be dark in about fifteen minutes and there are reefs and a ton of other things to hit that I won’t know about if our instrument panel is being fucked with."

There was a burst of static on the radio again and another plane, this one much lower, flew across the horizon. Once again, the controls went crazy and Callie retrieved a pair of binoculars, studying the numbers under the wings. "That’s a military plane. Take a look."

Alex accepted the binoculars. He wasn’t sure what he was looking *for*, but the fact that there were unmistakable missiles on the underbelly was a sure indication that she was correct. Against the sunset, it was an ominous and strange sight. "What do you think is happening?"

"I don’t know." Flipping open her cell phone, Callie dialed her father’s number. It went straight to voice mail and she left a short message, telling him to call her and assuring him that everything was fine.

After nearly two hours of sailing, Callie dropped the anchor several miles from the Washington Coast and turned in her seat to study her husband. He looked pensive and troubled so she reached over and put a hand on his leg. "The radio’s fine now and I haven’t seen a plane for a while."

He scanned the darkness around them, then gasped when she turned off the overhead lights. The sky was awash in greens and golds and reds. Callie got to her feet and gazed in wonder at the fantastic display of Northern Lights. They were surrounded and the lights were bright enough to reflect off the water. "That’s probably what the Coast Guard was doing. I bet the water near Australia is already full of sight seers who want to witness this first hand."

"You think?" Alex reached down and took her hand, reassured at her words despite the unbelievable tension in his body.

"That’s gotta be it," she replied, smiling at him. His face was a kaleidoscope of color and she cupped his cheek. "I’m really sorry, Alex, for everything."

"I’m really sorry, too." He took a step closer and kissed her. It left them both breathless and when he pulled away, he inclined his head toward the nose of the yacht. "Hot tub?"

"Race you."

She took off running, then skidded to a halt when a jet of water shot up beside the railing. Something big bumped the underside of the yacht and her mouth opened to form a perfect ‘o’ when she saw what was just below the surface of the water. There, reflected in the running lights, was a baby whale, one of its eyes turned upward to look at her. It was one of the most amazing things she had ever witnessed in her life and she didn’t know whether to jump in with the animal or run for her camera.

Alex swore when he saw that the calf was accompanied by its mother. The larger whale blew frigid water all over the place, drenching everything in the vicinity. Callie pushed her wet hair off her forehead and kneeled down, reaching over the side. "This is unbelievable!"

"Callie, would you please-"

The mother whale hit the yacht again and just like that ... Callie went over, head first, partially landing on the baby.

"Shit!" Alex cried, prepared to launch himself overboard as well. He forced himself to remain on the yacht, however, because the water was cold enough to kill and he needed to know where Callie was before he dove in unaware. Hypothermia would set in fast, so he grabbed the life ring and prayed for her to resurface. "C’mon, Gothika."

After what felt like a million years, Callie came up looking shell shocked from the cold, then she cried out in fear. Something nudged her backside and lifted her completely out of the water. She fell back, resting her elbows on the top of the whale’s head, which she would have been straddling if her legs opened that far. She slipped off the animal and back into the water when it veered to one side and when she came up again, her entire body was stiff from the cold. Alex splashed into the water beside her and tugged her to the ladder, half carrying her when he realized that she was too cold to move.

He forced her up the ladder, shoving with his shoulder when her limbs refused to cooperate. When they were safely on the yacht, he gripped her shoulders and shook her lightly. "Are you okay? Say something!"

Callie’s teeth were chattering too badly to reply and when she looked down at her fingers, she saw that they were blue. "C-cold."

Alex wasted no time pulling the cover off the hot tub. When she didn’t join him, he lifted her and gently eased her into the warm, soothing water. She groaned in relief, then in pain, as her fingers and toes began to thaw. He didn’t let her clamber back out of the tub, however, and held her firmly in place. He knew that getting her warmed quickly was the most important thing after the drop in body temperature. When he saw the tears in her eyes, he pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back. "I know it hurts, baby."

"I a-am *never* g-going s-s-sailing a-again!" she sniffled, still shivering uncontrollably. Her teeth clanked and her entire body ached from the chills which seemed to emanate from the inside out. The tingling pain in her limbs was as uncomfortable as it was uncontrollable and she buried her face in his neck. "A-are you o-okay?"

"I was only in the water a second. What is it with you and marine life, Callie?" He rubbed her hair and frowned, feeling the ice crystals forming there. "Wet your hair."

"I can’t move."

Alex did it for her, frowning when he saw how pale her face was. Reaching under the water, he felt the pulse in her wrist, then the one in her neck. It was a little slower than he would have liked, but that was to be expected. The body had a tendency to slow itself down after a water shock. He wet her hair again and waited for her to stop shivering, but she didn’t. Their breath was fogging up the night air and he shook his head. "I’m going to go turn the shower on and let it get hot. I’ll be right back."

She nodded and watched as he hurried below deck.

When he returned, she was so sleepy that she could barely keep her eyes open. He helped her from the tub and supported her weight as they made their way slowly across the deck. In the shower, he peeled her wet clothes off and bathed her, rubbing the circulation back into her hands and feet. His mother had acquired an electric blanket for the bed and he had turned it on so that when they were finally dry and slipped into bed, it was warm and toasty.

"I’m sorry," she said, her eyelids heavy. "I really, really wanted to make love with you."

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. "That’s what we’ve been doing all day, Gothika. All day."

She was sound asleep a second later and he was content to watch her in the splashes of color from the Northern Lights that shone through the window.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Thank you for a very nice time," Melana said as Richard walked her to the front door. "It was a lovely evening."

"Thank you for whatever you said to Jane. She can be very hard on people." Richard took her hand and helped her step up onto the porch.

The front door was yanked open so suddenly that Melana leaped forward, forcing Richard to catch her. She turned and looked, wide eyed, at her husband. "Raphael! What on earth are you doing here?!"

"What are *you* doing?" Raphael reached out and pulled her from Richard’s grasp, glaring at the other man. "Who do you think you are? I can not -"

"Stop!" Melana cried, putting her hands on her husband’s chest when he made a move to lash out at Webber. The feel of his strong, familiar body and the masculine, heady scent of her favorite cologne was enough to push her over the edge. Instead of letting her anger win out, she wrapped both arms around him and held on tight. "Oh, Raph, I missed you so!"

Stunned, Raphael returned the hug, smoothing his hand over her curls and cupping the back of her head. "I missed you, too, mi vida."

She began to cry against his shoulder. "I never wanted you to leave. Not really."

"I’m here now, honey, and I’m not going anywhere else without you. I promise."

"I love you."

Raphael’s voice trembled when he replied. "I love you too, Melana. I swear to you ... I will never lie to you again. I’ll tell you everything about FMC and about the CIA and about -"

"No." She leaned back and gazed into his eyes. "I only want to hear you say that you still need me as much as I need you because if that’s the case ... I don’t have to know anything else."

"I could tell you that," he said, giving her the same, sweet smile he had given her the first time he saw her at the market, "but I’d much rather show you."

"Raph!" She smacked him on the arm and turned to address Richard, but he was gone. They heard the front gate clank shut and she chuckled. "I didn’t even hear him start the car."

"You *do* need to tell me what was going on with him, Melana, because -"

"Hush." She put a hand to his lips. "I just want to look at you for a while. I never knew I could miss someone so much. I- I forgive you for what you did with Callie. It was wrong and dangerous and you could have gotten her killed, but you didn’t. You brought her back home to me every time and ... I love you for that."

"I shouldn’t have done it. If I could go back in time and change it ... I would."

"Let’s not worry with going back. Let’s go forward."

"Let’s go to bed." He grinned knowingly and pulled her into his arms. "It’s forward, isn’t it. After all, it’s that way."

"Let’s go to bed," she agreed, but neither moved as they clung to one another for what felt like an eternity.

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie awoke early the following morning and smiled. She was lying on Alex's shoulder and he was rubbing her side. "What time is it?"

"Five thirty."

"In the morning!?"

"Yep."

"That’s it. I’m going back to sleep."

"We wanted to get an early start back. Remember?"

When she lifted her head to look at him, she received a stark reminder of her impromptu swim and groaned in pain. "Shoot me, stuff me, mount me."

Alex chuckled. "Is it that bad?"

"Yep." She rolled onto her back and hissed to prove her point. "Honey?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you want, Gothika?"

"Food. If memory serves you were agreeable to all the cooking."

"You get food when you give me a kiss."

She pursed her lips together. "If I give you a kiss then you have to cook, not just warm a bagel."

"If I have to cook then I also get to cop a feel."

Callie lifted her shirt, trying hard to look put upon. "Get on with it."

Instead of lifting his hand to touch her ample breast, he lowered his head and captured her nipple with his mouth, letting his tongue dance against her taut bud. Her hand found the back of his head and her back arched as she moaned his name. He wasted no time finding her center. He slid the elastic of her panties aside and rubbed across her clit, earning an earth shattering kiss for his efforts. As his tongue dueled with hers, she lifted her hips and let him push her panties down, helping him shove them to her feet. He was already naked and his shaft rubbed against her hip, turgid and begging for attention.

Callie wrapped her hand around him, pumping slowly and he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. She felt the muscles in her back protest and made a face, "Ow. I hurt all over."

He touched her cheek, resigned to the fact that he was never having sex again. "You want some Ibuprofen?"

"You gonna get it?"

"You really are rotten." He gave her a kiss and eased from beneath her. "Pancakes?"

"That sounds good."

Alex laughed when she burrowed under the cover and covered her head. He pulled on his boxers and headed for the galley, whistling good naturedly. A search for the pain medication yielded nothing in the cabinet so he checked the spare bathroom and as a last resort he picked up her purse and set it on the counter, sliding the zipper down.

The tune that he was whistling died abruptly.

From the depths of her black oversized bag ... he pulled a small bottle of bourbon. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t believe it.

Glancing down, he saw another bottle and closed his eyes, unable to process it at all. The bedroom door creaked open and he heard Callie in the hallway behind him and slowly turned, holding up the bottle so she could see it. She drew up short, letting the belt of her robe drop from her hands. "Alex," she whispered, shaking her head. "I didn’t-"

"Why?" Alex clutched the bourbon in a tight fist as he yanked the vodka from the purse. He gasped in shocked disbelief when he saw the tequila. "Jesus Fucking Christ, Callie! What the hell are you trying to do? Kill yourself?"

"I didn’t drink anything."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You just carry it around for the hell of it?!"

"I - I bought it the night that my dad was leaving and -"

"So this is why you carry such big purses, huh? So you can keep your little stash and -"

"Did you hear me say that I didn’t drink anything!? I haven’t had anything since the *one* mistake that all of you refuse to forget!"

"I FORGOT IT UNTIL RIGHT NOW! YOU ARE A FUCKING JOKE, CALLIE! A FUCKING JOKE! YOU KEEP TRYING TO -"

"Alex, stop."

"STOP!? STOP!!?! YOU STOP!! WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO *LIVE*?"

"It’s not. I didn’t drink it. I don’t want it."

He clenched his jaw and glared at her. "Then why did you buy it?"

"Because I was pissed. I was pissed at you, at my family, at Addison ... and I just thought-"

"You thought? That was your first mistake. You can’t think at all. You’re obviously too stupid."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Don’t do this. Don’t start insulting me or calling me names. I don’t deserve it and -"

"You can revert to form ... but I can’t?"

"This isn’t your form. This isn’t who you are, Alex. And me being an alcoholic isn’t who I am, either. I was wrong to buy it, but I didn’t drink it and that matters."

"Not to me."

She angrily swiped a tear off her cheek. "Then what do we do? You have all the answers ... so what do we do?"

"You tell me! Is this what I have to look forward to? Do I have to go through your things to make sure you’re not hiding this shit? Do I have to watch the bank account to make sure you’re not -"

"No."

"Well, I damn sure can’t trust you so what does that leave?"

"OBVIOUSLY NOTHING!"

"Pour it out." Alex held out the bourbon.

"You pour it out!"

He stalked forward and gripped her upper arm, pulling her to the sink. When she didn’t take the bottle from him, he turned away and grabbed the tequila from her purse. He slammed it on the counter and glared at her. "I SAID POUR IT OUT!"

"Stop yelling at me!"

"By god, Callie, I will -" He whipped her around to face him and raised his hand.

"Alex!" She reacted instinctively, covering her head with her arms as she cried, "Don’t!"

Alex, who had lifted his hand to simply point at her, was stunned. He didn’t move at all until he heard her sobbing and then he gently rubbed her arms, whispering that it was okay. Slowly, he pushed them down and hugged her. She was trembling, but his own shaking was worse. He smoothed his hand over her back and felt a surge of relief when he felt her arms go around his waist. They stood that way for a while and when he spoke again, the bite was gone from his voice. "I would never hit you, Callie. Never."

"And I would never drink again!" she sobbed. "Never!"

"Well, that’s good to know," he replied. "You gave me a pretty severe warning before we came on this trip. You told me you’d divorce me if I ever left you again and now I’m saying the same thing to you. If you *ever* drink again ... I *will* leave ... and it’s over."

She could see the sincerity on his features. The rug had been yanked from under her and she was as close to falling on her ass from shock as she had ever been. He had actually gone *there* and he meant every syllable of it. "I won’t."

"I know," he replied and realized that he meant it. "You’re not stupid, Gothika. I’m sorry that I -"

"Just ... don’t."

"But -"

Callie pulled away from him and opened the bottle of bourbon, tipping the contents into the sink. The vodka and tequila followed and when she threw them away and turned, her face streaked with tears. "How did we get here? What’s wrong with us?"

"It’s my fault." He pushed her hair back and tilted her chin. "I’m *mean* to you when I’m mad. So ... of course you’d think I’d hit you in the heat of it. I’m sorry. It - it’s my fault."

"No, it’s my fault. All you want is for me to be honest and I lied to you about the air show and I didn’t tell you that I had something to drink again so ... it’s understandable that you don’t trust me. I’ve ruined our marriage and -"

"It’s not ruined."

"It *is*," she cried. "All we do is fight and yell and make each other miserable."

"That’s not all we do." He took her hand in his. "Until very recently, we spent all of our time laughing and enjoying our life, Callie. You know that."

She nodded her head. "I miss that."

"Then let’s get it back."

"How?"

Alex kissed her. It was a hungry, primal kiss that forced her legs to weaken and her heart to flip in her chest. She felt his longing, his need, and returned it full force. As one, they sank to the floor in front of the sink and he pushed her robe open. His hand found the bottom of her shirt and he pushed it upward, mimicking his actions from earlier in the bed. Latching onto her nipple, he let his tongue flick against it until it was hard, then moved to the other, repeating his ministrations until he heard her breathing change.

"Alex-"

"Shhh."

"Please don’t stop."

"Wasn’t planning to."

Although her body still ached in ways she had never experienced, the aching in her soul overpowered it and when he slid her panties down, she lifted her hips to help him. His nimble fingers found her center at the same time his mouth found hers. He manipulated her center until she was slick with need. His boxers were pushed only far enough to allow his cock to spring free and then he was buried inside her and she was crying out with relief. With her legs around his waist, she surged upward, rising to meet his thrusts. Her nails dug into his arms, his back, and she groaned when he changed his angle and gripped her hip, his fingers biting into her tender skin.

She was almost over the edge when he pulled from her and kissed a path down her belly. He left a hickey on her hip before he lowered his mouth to her center and let his tongue dance against her swollen flesh. Her pain was forgotten as he laved at her clit in that skilled, knowing way that only he could. He knew every inch of her and what it took to drive her insane. When two fingers slid into her and his free hand slipped back up to cup her breast, she felt the first wonderful contractions of her orgasm and tugged his hair.

He gave her less than two seconds to enjoy it. Pulling his hand away, he yanked her legs over his shoulders and slammed into her hard enough to move her several inches up the floor. Her arms went over her head, bracing herself against the wall as he pulled back and did it again. And again. And again. The sounds of flesh against flesh mingled with their mutual cries of pleasure and when Alex pulled back enough to rub his thumb over her clit, her legs stiffened, her back bowed, and she came again, pulling him with her as her inner walls grasped at his cock.

Spent, he collapsed on top of her, kissing her neck, then her mouth as he eased her legs down one at a time. For a while, they simply gazed at one another, their hot breath mingling as their heartbeats finally began to slow. Leaning down, he grazed her mouth with his own and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you," she replied against his mouth before she pushed herself up to capture his lips with hers.

For a while ... that was all that mattered.

"We're okay," Callie said after a while. "Finally."

He rolled onto his side and propped his head up, watching her. "It's about time."

She smiled. "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Let's never get to this point again, Jock Strap. Never."

"We won't." Alex brushed her bangs off her forehead. "I promise."

"And I promise I won't keep *anything* from you again. I'll go ahead and tell you now that I signed up to fly in the summer. It's a charity show and you've got *months* to mentally prepare for that."

"How many months?"

"It's in June."

He sighed. "I promise I'll *try* to not have a heart attack on one condition."

"Just one?"

"It's a big one, Elvira, so get ready for it."

"Oh god."

He held up his hand, where her rings still rested on his pinky. "If you wear these again, I'll deal with this flying thing. I'll show up, I'll clap, I'll remember to breathe when you do some reckless flip and I'll tell everyone within earshot that you're my very talented, very skilled *wife*. But only if you say you won't take them off again."

"That's a pretty good deal. I'd be a fool to not take you up on it." She reached up, letting her thumb trace the diamond butterfly of her engagement ring. "If I wear these again ... that's it for us, Alex. We're in this all the way and we're not gonna hurt each other again. Do you know what I mean?"

He slipped her rings from his finger and reached for her left hand. "I do. Just as much as I did in July, baby, I do. And I'd do it all over again."

They remained on the floor, alternating between making love and apologizing for close to two hours. When they finally showered and got dressed, it was nearly eight thirty in the morning. Alex agreed to cook while Callie readied Goon Docks for the journey home. When he joined her topside with a stack of pancakes, the water was choppy and she was staring into the distance. He turned to see what held her attention and his eyes widened.

"Now *that* is a big boat," he said.

The boat in question was a cruise ship that was breathtaking in sheer size. Goon Docks shifted precariously in the water, rocking from side to side as the mammoth ship sailed past. Alex and Callie both had to look straight up to see the name on the side, The Oceanic Dreamer, and the large waves that she left in her wake when she finally sailed past forced them to sit down fast to keep from losing their balance. The pancakes were less fortunate and they slipped off the plate, landing with a sloppy smack on the white deck.

Alex laughed, but Callie didn’t.

She retrieved her binoculars and studied each of the four levels of the cruise ship. There was no one to be found. She turned the volume up on the radio and switched a few channels, listening intently for signs of life or ... distress.

"What’s wrong?" Alex asked as he speared the last of the pancakes and put them back on the plate.

"Have you ever been on a cruise?"

"Only if you count us sailing back from California."

She studied the ship again through the binoculars. "It’s always so crowded that you feel like you’re suffocating from all the people. Where are the people, Alex?"

"I don’t know." He accepted the binoculars and scanned the ships massive decks. The white flag that was furling in the wind caught his eye and he blinked a couple of times to make sure he was seeing it clearly. He had seen the three stars somewhere else, but he couldn’t place where that had been. He opened his mouth to ask Callie, but she was on the radio again, trying to find the frequency the ship was using.

Callie finally started the engine and turned Goon Docks so that they were following the same path taken by the ocean liner. They were close enough to hear the whirring of the engines and were only a few miles from Neah Bay, where the whaling protest occurred, when the unthinkable happened. The ship was less than a mile away when it listed to one side. Callie, who had been watching it with interest all along, slowly stood.

A split second later, The Oceanic Dreamer was split down the middle by an explosion that was big enough to send Goon Docks onto her side and Alex and Callie backward into the water. She came up sputtering first. "Alex! ALEX!"

"CALLIE!"

She spun in the water, watching him swim toward her. He grabbed her and they both watched as Goon Docks fought to right herself in the enormous waves. "Come on, girl," Callie mumbled, her teeth chattering once again as the yacht was pitched left and right, still on her side.

Billowing black smoke covered the sky and the smell of fuel burning caused them both to cough. "We have to get out of this water," Alex said, feeling his flesh tingling from the cold.

As if Goon Docks heard the urgency in his voice, she finally won her own battle with the water and righted herself, bobbing like a cork. Swimming toward the ladder, Alex let Callie climb up first, then he followed, unable to tear his eyes away from the demolished ship that was close enough to warm the air. Pieces of burning debris rained down on them and he made quick work of ridding the deck of the larger pieces as Callie fumbled with the radio, calling out a ‘may day’ to anyone in the vicinity.

They both had minor burns and scrapes from the debris and when Callie gave up her quest to raise someone on the radio, she turned and examined Alex. He did the same for her, touching the burn on her cheek and pulling off his wet shirt to dab at her bloody nose. "We have to try to help," she said as she used the sleeve of his shirt to staunch a nasty cut on his forehead. "Alex -"

"We can’t get close enough." He looked at the wreckage and shook his head. "How many people sail on those things?"

"Thousands," she replied, not turning to survey the damage for herself. The fact that she had not seen anyone did not erase the fact that it was a *passenger* ship and there were probably children on board somewhere.

The steady thumping of helicopter blades forced them to turn quickly and look at the sky. The coast guard had arrived in full force, flanked by military choppers. Over the sound of the aircraft, Callie heard Goon Dock’s warning siren begin to blare. She raced back to the captain’s chair to check the gauges and said, "She’s taking on water!"

Alex hurried to her side and watched as she frantically flipped switch after switch. "What do we do?"

"Open the bench and take out of the inflatable. The pumps aren’t working."

He did as she requested, pulling the cord to inflate the life raft. He grabbed two life vests and held one out. The sounds were deafening when Callie shook her head. "I need to go to the engine room," she shouted, trying to be heard. "Maybe I can -"

"No!" Alex forced her arms into the lifejacket and fastened the bands on his own. "She’s going down, Callie! We have to jump!"

She stared at the captain’s chair, at the hot tub, at the tattered leather on the benches that had been demolished by the fiery rain and she knew that he was right, but she also knew that abandoning ship was the final act. Goon Docks would be lost to them forever. "I have to *try*."

Alex did something he never thought he’d do.

He picked her up and tossed her over the railing, shoving the raft in behind her. When he jumped a second later, their yacht was much lower in the water than it should have been. He scrambled into the raft and pulled her in behind him. She didn’t protest, but she did bury her face against his neck to keep from watching as Goon Docks was eventually swallowed from their sight.

The fact that news crews had joined in with the other helicopters never dawned on either of them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Is that -"

"Oh my god!" Raphael shot out of the bed and moved closer to the television, unable to believe his eyes. His heart fell to his knees as he watched the aerial footage of the cruise disaster fade to a rescue mission. With a hand over his mouth, he watched Goon Docks sink beneath the water, and Callie’s unmistakable black hair whipping in the wind as she sat huddled with Alex on an orange dingy. "Melana-"

Melana, who was trembling so hard he could barely stand, hurried to Raphael’s side nevertheless. "She’s okay."

They watched, horror struck, as a man was lowered over the small raft with a basket. Callie climbed into it and was slowly lifted from the turbulent waves and then Alex was taken to safety right behind her. The phone rang, causing them both to jump three feet into the air. "Hello?" Melana cried.

"Mel!" Addison replied. "Are you watching the news?"

"I am, honey." Melana looked back at the screen just in time to hear the announcer say that another cruise ship had just exploded off the coast of Florida. "Perhaps you and Mark would like to come here."

"We’re on our way."

Melana hung up without a goodbye and took Raphael’s hand. "Is it like September Eleventh? Is it a terrorist attack?"

Raphael gazed at the screen when the images from the Florida explosion flicked across the screen. There, crudely painted on the back of the burning ship, were three stars, their tips touching.

The Triad had sent a very strong message.

And almost taken his daughter from him.

This, he decided, was war.

*~*~*~*~*~

CH 20
Dedicated: To Alicia and Amber for sending me the best care package from NYC that ever was. You guys mean the world to me and I adore you. Even if one of you talks way too fast. ;)
*~*~*~*~*~

It is human nature to be curious. The media picked up on that fact years ago and ran with it, manipulating footage for the greatest shock value to keep viewers glued to the news. They did not have to alter the live footage pouring in from the east and west coasts however. Estimates of casualties were well over five thousand and the images of people sobbing, falling to their knees, and crying out in shock as they watched the smoldering cruise ships sink to their watery graves was hard for anyone to watch.

Addison was in tears, reminded vividly of that fateful September day in New York City. She had been crossing the street to go to work when the first plane hit and the glass from the windows of the Trade Center had fallen into her hair. Dumbfounded, she had gazed upward, not realizing that a plane had hit the building or that she was in harm’s way. Mark had seen it from a taxi and he had rushed out, grabbed her, and shoved her into the relative safety of the backseat. They had been watching from the windows when the second plane hit and that had been enough to send them scrambling from the car to join the rest of the city as they gazed upward at what would be the beginning to the worst day of their lives. As she clutched Melana’s trembling hand in her own, she watched for the millionth time as the ‘daring rescue’ of Callie and Alex played out on the screen.

Behind her, Raphael was pacing the floor as he waited for someone at the CIA to return his phone call. He had been demanding on the phone, refusing to accept less than the best information they currently had on the situation. His choice of wording had been stern and shocking at times, but apparently it was enough to get results. Someone would be calling back just as soon as Callie was located. It was impressive how much authority Raphael had, but it was disconcerting to see how frazzled he was. His tender underbelly had been exposed by seeing that *this* attack had hit awfully close to home. As she watched Raphael walk to the window and gaze out as if he expected to see his daughter coming home, Addison’s tears intensified and she put a hand on her stomach. She had not heard her own child’s heartbeat yet, but at least she knew where he was.

Mark kneeled down beside Addison and put a hand on her leg. "You really need to calm down."

She crossed her arms over her chest as she met his eyes. "I’m trying."

"Try harder. This isn’t good for the baby."

Addison swiped her hand over her cheeks. It infuriated her every single time he called her out on what was best for the baby. He had decided that she needed oatmeal every morning and bought enough to fill one entire cabinet. Coffee, even decaf, was out of the question and he had taken to coaxing her into the bed to *sleep* by ten every night. For the baby, he said, but he really meant that *he* would take care of *this* baby since she had so capriciously aborted the last one. He didn’t trust her to care for it at all.

Mark handed her a tissue, then held one out to Melana, who was holding up surprisingly well. "Raphael will find them."

"I know." Melana patted him on the cheek, obviously grateful for a reason to look away from the television. Goon Dock’s final moments above water were already indelibly inked in their brains and they didn’t need to see it again. Callie could have easily been sleeping below deck and could have drowned and if they had been any closer to the The Oceanic Dreamer ... they could have burned to death. Mel’s chin trembled at the endless possibilities and she offered to make lunch for the third time when Raph’s cell phone rang.

The one sided conversation provided only enough information to intrigue and when he hung up and looked at Melana, she read the relief on his face and breathed easy. "She’s okay?"

Raphael nodded. "They were taken to Clallam County Hospital. I’ve arranged for medical transport to pick them up there and bring them to Seattle Grace. I’ve been assured they’ll arrive within the hour."

"I’ll go get them fresh clothes." Addison got to her feet and hurried down the hallway to the master bedroom, clearly grateful for something to do. Mark followed in her wake.

Melana turned off the television, stepping over Chunk who seemed to understand the tension and had been on his best behavior. "How bad are they hurt?"

"They’re not. They’re shaken up, but they’re physically fine."

"The water is so cold."

"I know, mi vida. They were treated for exposure, warmed up, and they’re okay." He put his hands on her shoulders, massaging lightly. "She’ll be home soon."

"We’ll go to the hospital to meet them."

"Of course we will."

"And I - I’ll cook her something - and -"

Raphael hugged her when the tears started. She had swayed only slightly thus far, but anyone could see that she had been close to breaking all morning. Soothing her with his hands, with his voice, he leaned his face into her hair and breathed deep. He had cried when he talked to his sons. Loukas and Stavros were perfectly fine in Miami and had been sleeping soundly when the cruise ship exploded off the coast. Cambyses had not returned his calls, however.

"We should call Cam again," Melana sniffled, stepping back to dry her eyes. "I’m sure he’s frantic if he’s seen the news."

Knowing that the phone lines were still jammed and his efforts would be futile, Raphael still opened his phone and dialed his son’s number. Melana heard the error message and her face fell again as she sat down on the sofa. As he started to close the phone, he saw that he had a text message. Praying it was from Cambyses, he quickly opened it and scrolled.

‘Was our warning loud and clear? You got too close this time, Raphael, and if there is a next time then someone you love will die.’

His fist was clenched tight enough to draw blood from his palm. He told Melana he needed fresh air and stalked into the yard with Chunk on his heels. Weighing his options felt hopeless. He simply did not know who was running The Triad. He had a hunch that it was Nicky Niarchos, but he couldn’t risk his credibility with the CIA to point fingers in the wrong direction. The Triad certainly utilized the Niarchos crest ... the three stars were unmistakable, but proving their involvement was another matter entirely.

He couldn’t afford to draw any scrutiny to himself or FMC. His recruitment of fellow CIA agents had been a sore spot with the United States Government for years and the last thing he needed to do was raise a red flag by providing information that he should not have had to begin with. FMC was only ever supposed to focus on the supernatural aspects of Talking Rock ... it had never been given clearance to dabble in other areas.

And dabble Raphael had.

Callie had almost paid for his dabbling with her life.

His cell phone rang, startling him and he quickly brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Dad?"

"Cambyses! Oh, thank God! How are you, son?"

There was a moment of silence on the line and then Cam sobbed, a horrible gut wrenching sound.

"Cam, she’s okay. I haven’t spoken to her yet, but she’s on her way home and I have it on very good authority that she’s not hurt." Raphael listened quietly as his son struggled to regain his composure. It felt like hours had passed before the line was blessedly silent. "Where are you?"

Cam sniffled and said, "Our flight was grounded in the Bahamas. The cruise ship blew up near Miami so they’re not letting any flights out."

"It will likely be a couple of days before the flight ban is lifted, mijo. I’ll make sure that Callie calls you tonight, okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you."

Cam began to cry again and when he said ‘I love you, too’ it was hard to understand him. The line went dead before Raphael could say more and he slipped the phone into the breast pocket of his jacket, leaving his hand resting over it for a moment. He watched as Melana came out of the house, followed by Mark and Addison and quickly joined them.


He couldn’t wait to hug at least one of his children.

*~*~*~*~

Nothing was being handled the way it should have been. As Callie sat in the chopper, gritting her teeth at the pain that coursed through her from the thundering ride, she stared out the window. The black smoke had dissipated from the coast line and the water eventually faded from view, but it had still happened ... and it wasn’t being handled properly. No one had questioned them. There had been no police officers at the hospital to take their statement and the rescue workers had certainly not answered the ones she had asked. The looked *through* her.

Callie knew what protocol was.

And it wasn’t being followed.

As they flew over the Olympic Park, she thought about the static on Goon Docks’ radio the previous night. She was not a conspiracy theorist by any stretch of the imagination, but the facts were there. The radio had been scrambled by the aircraft in the area and the Coast Guard had made it painfully clear that they needed to stay away from Washington and the Gulf of Alaska. The fishermen on the radio had confirmed that much. It stood to reason that officials had cleared the area because they *knew* what was coming.

It had taken the Guard close to two hours to respond to her request for help during the whale protest, but almost as soon as the cruise ship exploded ... they were everywhere at once. So was the military. None of it made sense. Turning away from the window, she glanced at the man who sat across from her. He stared straight ahead, unflinching, perfectly trained to keep any emotion off his face. Looking down the line of soldiers, she saw that they were all the same ... hands flat against their thighs as they escorted their charges to Seattle Grace.

In that moment, she was more grateful to her father for saving her from a similar fate than she had ever been. The CIA had wanted her. Badly. And he had prevented them from taking her by inducting her officially into FMC and sending her away to college. She would have failed miserably at controlling herself with such aplomb. As a matter of fact, she likely would have been charged for treason if she had voiced what she was currently thinking about the Government’s involvement in the entire mess.

She jumped when Alex put his hand over hers and squeezed it. She twined her fingers through his and turned back to the window. They were approaching the city and she felt a gut twisting pang when she realized that Goon Docks would never sail the Puget Sound again. Her eyes burned with tears as they passed over the familiar waterway. The yacht was only a possession, but she was a possession that had righted herself long enough for Callie and Alex to board her again and retrieve the safety gear. It should have been impossible for her to rise from her side at all ... but she had ... if only for a moment.

The whirring of the chopper blades changed in their intensity and Callie felt them losing altitude. It caused her stomach to lurch and she grimaced, closing her eyes until they bumped to a rocky landing on top of the hospital. The soldier across from her reached into her lap and unfastened her belt. She started to tell him that she was perfectly capable, but she held her tongue and let him unfasten the chin strap of her helmet as well. He pulled it from her head and met her eyes briefly, giving her what could only be described as a sad smile. It did nothing to reassure her and she slid across the seat to the door, eager to be away from any further reminders of their ordeal.

She gasped when the door was wrenched open by her father. "Daddy!"

Raphael simply opened his arms and when she slipped into them, he held her off the ground for a few moments. Beside him, Melana pulled Alex into a warm embrace and was fussing over the cut on his forehead, but Raphael didn’t look at his son in law yet. He needed to see that Callie was okay. Setting her on her feet, he pushed her hair back and studied the burns on her cheek, the scratches on her neck. He was responsible for every one of them and he mentally did an inventory of how severely she had paid for his own transgressions.

"Let’s get them inside," Melana said, holding onto Alex. "They’re freezing!"

Raphael gave Alex a quick hug, then put an arm around Callie and supported her weight as they hurried into the hospital. Addison and Mark were waiting in front of the elevator with two wheelchairs and to everyone’s surprise, neither Callie nor Alex protested when it came to using them. Both were wearing hospital gowns and had nearly frozen to death in the chopper. Raphael promised to issue a strongly worded complaint that the CIA’s hospitality had not extended to a warm jump suit and Callie didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was too sore to put one on even if it had been offered.

Although they had already been checked out in Clallam, Chief Webber refused to let them pass through the hospital without personally examining them both on his own. He finally announced that they needed to stay overnight for observation, forcing Callie to refuse.

"I’m supposed to cover for Bailey tomorrow," she pointed out. "I feel fine."

Addison reached out and poked her in the side that she had been favoring. Callie obliged her by crying out in pain and Richard shook his head. "I’m sure I can convince Dr. Heron to fill in and if she chooses not to do so then -"

"I can do it," Mark said. "I was Chief Resident and I haven’t forgotten the ins and outs of it."

Addy narrowed her eyes. "I’m sure you haven’t. I’m sure you utilized every second of your day to seduce interns."

Callie’s eyebrows shot up as she looked back and forth between her friends. "Uh, Addison?"

"I’m sorry." Addison put a hand over her face. "I’ve been on pins and needles all day and -"

"Hormonal as hell." Mark glared at his wife across the bed. "You really need to make an appointment with the -"

"Stop telling me what to do!" Addison snapped. "You tell me what to eat, when to go bed, what I need to drink and I’m sick of it. I’m pregnant, Mark! I haven’t become a three year old."

Chief Webber cleared his throat and looked down at Callie. "If it makes it easier ... I’ll see to it that you and Alex share a room."

"I’m not staying, Chief. I want to be with my family. I *need* to be at home." To prove her point, Callie reached for her chart and scanned it. "I’ll sign the AMA paperwork."

"You’ve been through a lot, Callie," Addison said softly. "So you should -"

"Be at home." Callie closed her chart and held it out to Richard. "I can’t rest here. I can’t sleep or be comfortable. And I’m tired."


Preston cleared his throat from the doorway and said, "Alex feels the same way. He wants to sign and leave as well."

"You are hard headed and even harder to like," Chief Webber said to Callie, putting a hand on her shoulder. "If you feel *anything* out of the ordinary tonight you get back here. I mean it."


Callie agreed and watched Mark follow Richard from the room. Sloan shot Addison a furtive look over his shoulder as he left the women alone. "What’s going on?" Callie asked, patting the edge of her bed.

Addison sat down and hugged her. "I don’t want to talk about me."

"Well, I don’t want to talk about me either and we’re both so self involved that nothing else is left. So, tell me."

Addy didn’t smile at the joke. She sighed instead. "Mark thinks I’m going to hurt this baby."

"What?!"

"He’d put me in a bubble if he could."

"That’s new father jitters."

"That’s a ‘she aborted my child’ grudge."

"I really don’t think Mark is punishing you for that. He made peace with it."

"No, I don’t think he has."

"Why would you say that?"

"He kept the onesie."

"And?"

"I didn’t keep the baby, Callie. He’s clinging to it and I - I just got rid of it."

"Talk to him."

Holding up a hand, Addison said, "Enough about me. You’re wearing your rings again. I take it the trip was a success."

Callie rubbed over the rings with her thumb. "We’re okay."

"Are you *sure*? Because you’ve said that several times now and -"

"He knows that I’ll divorce him if he leaves again and I know that he’ll divorce me if I drink again. So, we know what’s at stake."

"You guys talked about *divorce* on your reconciliation trip? That’s so romantic I may swoon."

"We’re trying." Callie gazed down at her rings and wondered silently if trying would be enough. "He called me stupid."

Addison gasped. "To your face? Not joking?"

"To my face. Not joking." Callie took a deep breath and groaned, rubbing her side. "And as an added bonus ... he also called me a ‘fucking joke’."

"Can I ask why?"

Callie met her eyes, unblinking. "He found three bottles of alcohol in my purse."

Addison looked like the wind had been knocked out of her. "Did you drink it?"

"No."

"You know how I told you I would yell at you later on? I think it’s later on, Cal."

"Don’t yell at me. Not today."

The door opened and Melana strolled in with her hands on her hips. She glared at Callie until Callie looked away and said, "Is there a reason why you’re not staying?"

"I want to be with you," Callie replied honestly.

Mel’s hands went from her hips to her heart and she smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was there. "Baby, I was going to spend the night here with you. You weren’t going to be alone."

"We’ll all rest better at the house." Watching her mother closely, Callie added, "You and Daddy?"

"We mended fences and he did all the hard labor."

Callie wrinkled her nose. "That means you had a lot of sex, right?"

"You don’t like to hear about my sex life, Calliope, so don’t ask me about it."

*~*~*~*~*~

Addison and Mark hovered at Callie’s house until late that night. Melana cooked dinner and watched Callie and Alex like a hawk to make sure they ate enough. Her gut instinct was that something had happened on the yacht before it sank and she was aching to inquire about it, but she refrained. After saying goodnight to the newlyweds and seeing them off at the door, she turned and studied Callie and Alex again. Callie was seated on the sofa next to her father, her head on his shoulder, and he was caressing a bruise on her hand with his thumb. Alex was in the recliner, his eyes closed.

"If you leave out the near death experience, Callie, how was your weekend?" Melana pried.

"Which near death experience?" Alex asked, eyes still closed. "There were a couple. Ask her about falling on top of the whale. Or about the hypothermia."

Callie held her breath, praying he wouldn’t mention the alcohol. She felt her dad shift a little so he could see her and tried her best to play it off. "It was a weird time."

"Whale?" Raphael prodded.

She explained about the baby whale and finished off by saying, "Apparently I’m not cut out for sailing. That’s *two* yachts down and marine life hates me. Stupid animals."

Melana glanced at Alex in time to see the ghost of a smile on his face. "And nothing else happened?"

"Mom, are you asking if we had sex?"

"NO! SHE IS NOT!" Raphael shook his head. "And even if she were ... *I* don’t want to know."

"Did you resolve your issues or not?" Melana shot Raphael a warning look when he opened his mouth to speak. "Raphael, you have not been here to see these two fools mope around and act like the world had ended. Even debauchery in the garage couldn’t fix it and -"

Alex’s head shot up and he stared with wide eyes at Callie, who simply shook her head. Melana continued, barely stopping to breathe. "I want to know if they’ve taken the high road or the low road."

"We’re taking *our* road, Mel, and it’s somewhere in the middle." Alex closed the recliner and got to his feet. His movements were slow and exaggerated and he was obviously miserable. "You sleepy, Gothika?"

"I’m exhausted," Callie replied, putting her hand in his.

They said goodnight to her parents and headed to their room. When they were behind closed doors, Alex lifted her shirt over her head and examined the bruises on her ribcage. She had hit the side of the boat when he threw her over and knowing that he had caused it was killing him. "I am so sorry," he said softly.

"I didn’t even think about -"

"It’s okay." Callie put her hand on his cheek, kissing him lightly. "Let’s go to bed."

"Wait. Something’s been bothering me all day." Alex’s hands moved to her waist and he stepped closer to her. "I want to apologize for the things I said to you earlier. I can’t take it back, but I can promise you I didn’t mean it. And ... I know I was in your face, but I’d never - EVER - hit you." He trailed his thumb over her jaw. "I love you more than you could ever piss me off. And it won’t happen again."

"I told you once before that I’d rather you hit me than say those things to me." She took a deep breath. "Either way ... you kill me a little every time you do it and I know I’m not innocent ... I know that I push your buttons ... but it hurts, Alex, and I really feel like I’ve had enough hurt to last a lifetime. We both have so ... it *is* time to stop."

"Then we’re stopping. You’ve stopped drinking, I’ve stopped letting my temper get the better of me, and we’re okay. Right?"

"Right."

"Shake on it." He held out his hand.

Callie put hers in his and chuckled when he tugged her forward and kissed her. "Baby, I don’t think we’re able to shake *anything*."

"Humor me." He moved to her neck, kissing the scratches there. "I could have lost you today."

"I feel like you found me instead."

"I found both of us."

Someone knocked at the door and Callie grabbed her shirt, slipping it over her head. "Come in."

Raphael poked his head into the room. "I forgot to tell you to call Cambyses, mija. He was frantic earlier. His flight was grounded in the Bahamas and he saw you on the news."

"I will."


Clearing his throat, Raphael said, "Is everything okay?"

Callie looked exasperated. "It’s *fine*, Dad. Good night."

"You’re supposed to be taking it easy so see that you do. Both of you." Raphael glanced back and forth between the two. "Good night."

"What does he think we’re going to do, Alex?" she asked when her father shut the door. "We can barely move."

"Your shirt is on backwards and my sweat pants hide *nothing*. He noticed. Damn eagle eyed CIA -"

"I heard that!" Raphael called through the door.

"He’s been hanging around my mother too much."

"And I heard that, Calliope!" Melana cried. "Go to bed! Both of you!"

*~*~*~*~*~

Mark and Addison sat in the living room of their house, staring at the darkened television. It was habit now, to sit and look at it. Like the rest of America, they had been glued to it all day. Mark finally had enough of the tension and looked at her. "Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?"

"No."

"I can’t apologize for whatever I’ve done unless you clue me in."

"I don’t want to talk about it."

"What *do* you want?"

"Something I can’t have."

His jaw tightened, a sure indication that his frustration was reaching critical mass. "And what would that be?"

"To change the past."

"You bitch at me for treating you like you’re three and then you use a three year old’s vocabulary. Can you elaborate, Addison, or should we just keep going in circles?"

"I’m going to bed."

"Do you want some juice?"

"No, Mark." She stood and put her hands on her hips. "I don’t want juice."

"Well, I do." Mark stalked into the kitchen. When he returned, Addison was not in the living room. He headed down the hall and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her gown in her hands. She was letting it hang limply, the edge touching the floor. The tears on her face forced him to bite down on the sarcastic comment he was contemplating. Taking the gown from her hands, he laid it on the foot of the bed and kneeled down beside her. "Whatever I did ... I’m sorry."

"No. It’s me." She stared into his eyes. "I made you doubt me and I’m pissed at you for it when I should be pissed at myself so I’m being pissy and taking it out on you when you have every right to be more pissed than me."

Mark cocked his head to one side. "Did not compute."

"You don’t have faith in me and I caused it so I get it, but I’m not going to do anything to hurt this baby."

"Wait ... what are you talking about?"

"I want this baby and I’d die before I let anything happen to it. Stop second guessing me."

"I’m not second guessing you." Mark grabbed her hands when she looked skeptical. "It’s not a crime to want to take care of you, Addison. That’s what I’m supposed to do. You nurture the baby and I help nurture you. It’s all I can do to help and I *want* to help. I want to be a part of things."

"It’s not because I had an abortion? It’s not because you don’t trust me?"

"If I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t be here. As for the abortion ... what Melana said last night was true. It wasn’t our time *then*, but it is now, and I’d like to think we’ve erased our sins by now."

She responded in the only way she could. She burst into tears and hugged him. "I can’t believe my hormones are already so screwed up. I cry at the drop of a hat and-"

"It’s okay." Mark rubbed her back. "You married a man with the patience of Job and I think I can handle it."

"You think?" She sat back and glared at him. "For eight more months ... you *better* handle it. I’m the one who gets all the lovely side effects so if you have to put up with my mood swings then oh well! Give me your juice!"

Mark retrieved it from the night stand and watched her drain the glass.

If eight more months didn’t kill him ... he’d survive fatherhood with flying colors.

*~*~*~*~*~

The following day, Callie left Cambyses a message. She assured him that she was okay and asked him to come to Seattle early for Thanksgiving because she missed him. And she needed him. When she hung up, she called the hospital to check Finn’s status and was devastated to hear that the swelling on his brain was still causing complications. Derek had made the decision to wait until Wednesday to wake him up and Callie was hell bent on being at the hospital for that.



She sat down for breakfast after her mother declined her offer to help. Alex, who had also been denied the right to cook, sat down beside her and kissed her cheek. She glanced to her left, where a photo of them on Goon Docks rested on a baker's rack. It was an altogether stark reminder of the wonderful times they had shared. When she had looked down from the helicopter as Alex was rescued, she had been able to just make out the faint shape of the yacht ... as if it were waving goodbye.

Callie Karev was not the type of person to be overly concerned with possessions. She had not even owned a sofa or appliances until she moved in with Alex, but Goon Docks had been special. They had talked about baby proofing it and turning the spare room into a kid friendly and less porn friendly atmosphere. They had real plans. So it hurt. Her first real 'I love you' had been spoken there and she had truly made love there countless times.

"You okay?" Alex asked, following her line of vision. "She put up a fight, didn't she?"

"I should have gone below deck to manually turn on the pumps."

"She was already taking on water. The engine room was full."

"I should have tried."

"I'm glad you didn't, baby. You could have gone down with her." He studied her profile. "And don't tell me that a captain should go down with the ship. You hated 'Titanic'."

"That was not a good movie, but 'The Perfect Storm' was and Clooney went down with his ship."

"The Skipper didn't on 'Gilligan's Island'."

"Because he was a *Skipper*."

Alex raised a brow. "Be glad you didn't go down, Cal. I know about the supernatural now and I would bring your ghost back to tell it off butt good."

"That's so romantic, honey."

Melana carried a basket of homemade biscuits and set it on the table, leaning down to kiss Callie's forehead. She frowned and rested the back of her hand against it. "You feel warm."

"I am warm. You guys have the heat on ninety." Callie smiled devilishly. "So, Daddy caught you with the Chief, huh?"

"Did he tell you that?"

Callie shook her head. "No. But he was glaring at Webber like he wanted to play with his intestines while I was being examined."

"It was *innocent*." Melana dusted her hands off on her apron, clearly uncomfortable. "And we are not bringing it up. Understand?"

"Understood." Callie was relieved enough at her parent's reunion to agree to anything.

Raphael carried in a large bowl of eggs and a platter of bacon and set it down. He looked from Callie to Alex and said, "I take it you SLEPT last night?"

"No." Callie sighed. "Alex insisted on sinful pleasures and I couldn't resist."

Alex choked on his orange juice.

"There, there," Callie soothed, patting him on the back. "Of course we slept, Dad. Walking hurts. I can only imagine that mattress dancing would as well."

Raphael's face was crimson. "You have taken a page from your mother's book. She torments you this way, so I guess you're paying it forward."

"Nicely done, mi vida." Melana took Alex's hand, then Raphael's. "Let's say a quick prayer and, Calliope, if you roll your eyes you will lose them."

Callie closed her eyes, smiling when Alex and her father covered her hands with their own.

"Don't smirk either." Melana waited until Callie looked somber and bowed her head. "Heavenly Father, we sit before you today as a grateful family. We are grateful that we did not lose our children to evil and that they are here safe today. And we are grateful that you blessed our hearts with the ability to forgive and find hope in the darkest hour. Even today, after witnessing senseless death and violence, we are filled with hope that you will give comfort to the families who feel they have nothing to be grateful for today. In Jesus's name we pray. Amen."

"That was nice, Mom." Callie glanced at Melana, then hastily accepted the bread basket from Alex.

Mel smiled when she saw that her daughter's eyes were bright with tears. "Perhaps the Lord is working his miracles as we speak. He obviously moved a mountain."

Callie handed the basket to her father and his hand brushed hers. Just like that, the floodgates opened. "I bought three bottles of alcohol the night I left the restaurant. I was pissed and upset so I bought and I was going to drink it, but I didn't because Chunk wouldn't let me and then I forgot I had it. But I did buy it ... and I thought you should know."

No one breathed, especially Callie. The only sound she made was a hard swallow. Alex handed her a napkin and put his hand on her leg, rubbing her thigh to remind her that he was there, still on her side.

Raphael put the basket on the table hard enough to knock the salt shaker over. "Has nothing that we have said to you mattered? You are a *doctor* and you know that your liver, your LIFE, is at stake. Callie, look at me."

She did as he requested and it was obvious that it killed her to do so.

"From the time that you could speak, you talked about a family of your own. You want children and *I* want grandchildren. You can't do that if you destroy your body and if you give me any reason to think you are going down that path again, I will send you to rehab so fast your head will spin."

"Leave her alone." Melana reached across the table and took Callie's hand. "She told us, Raph, which means she's got nothing to hide. I, for one, appreciate her honesty. It means she has learned."

"Melana-"

"Hush." Mel passed the eggs to her son in law. "You're not shocked by her candor, Alex."

"I found it." Alex scooped up a spoonful, dropping it onto Callie's plate. "And she poured it out."

Callie accepted the bowl with trembling hands and held it out to her father. He had been glaring at her the entire time and she felt small under his scrutiny. When he didn't take it from her, she set it down. Not wanting to draw his ire, she picked up her fork and took a bite of her breakfast. Her heart slamming against her ribcage made it hard to swallow but she managed.

Melana nudged Raphael with her foot under the table and when he met her eyes, she shot a pointed look at Callie. The message was clear. He needed to fix it. Clearing his throat, he said, "That dog has doubled its size since I have been gone."

Alex nodded, glancing out the bay window, where Chunk was gazing at them with a look of mild contempt at not being included. "He grows every time you blink."

"Just like kids," Melana replied. She smiled at Raph and added, "Addison's pregnant. Something tells me we'll be spending a lot of time in Seattle."

"We will?" He looked confused.

"She needs us. Her parents are dead and she's terrified. This is a perfect excuse to buy the house on the west coast that we've discussed for years. We can split our time."

"But, the business-"

"It's high time you pass the reigns to Stavros. You are old, honey. Very old."

"I AM NOT OLD!"

"You're not young."

"I can hold my own, which I proved repeatedly Saturday night."

Callie whimpered. "Gross."

"I happen to be a catch." Raphael told his wife.

"You're a regular Don Juan." Mel assured him, albeit sarcastically.

"You had no complaints any of the five times-"

"OH GOD! I'M GONNA BE SICK, DADDY!!" Callie put a hand over her mouth to prove her point. "STOP!"

"You did it to me, mija."

"And I have learned a valuable lesson," she replied. "I will never have sex again."

Alex choked on his biscuit. "Wrong. You have never been so wrong."

Everyone laughed and just like that, Callie learned that honesty really was the best policy. Not having any skeletons in her closet was a nice, refreshing change.

After breakfast, she sat down on the sofa and turned on the television. She had not seen much at the hospital but she had heard enough to know that a second ship had exploded. It just so happened that the footage of their rescue was still a top story. It was being touted as 'Survivor's Adrift' and the newscaster made it seem like Callie and Alex had been on the dingy for hours. When Callie saw herself clearly, she cried out in shock.

Alex hurried out of the kitchen. "Baby?"

"I look sick!" She pointed at the screen.

"In your defense, you had just been through hell," he assured her.

"If the camera adds ten pounds then I need to gain thirty to look like me again!" She got to her feet. "Get up, Jock Strap, let's go!"

"Where are we going?"

"I need junk food! Ben and Jerry's and Starbucks and, oooh, donuts."

Alex grinned when she headed down the hall to get dressed. Raphael sat down beside him and said, "Why do I feel like we just won a war?"

"Because we did." Alex was still smiling when he followed her and in the bedroom, he kissed her until she was breathless.

-------

Chief Webber stood in the doorway of the Resident's lounge. He had received two complaints already about Dr. Heron and it wasn't even lunchtime. Meredith had reported alcohol on her breath and George reported seeing a bottle in her locker. Richard waited patiently for the area to clear before he walked in. He casually unlocked Sydney's locker with a master key and sighed. There, on the middle shelf, was a bottle of rum and beside it was am empty package that a new flask had come in.

He confiscated it, feeling very much like a principal. He retrieved a pillowcase from the hall and discretely covered the contraband. Sitting at his desk a while later he carefully weighed his options. Practicing while under the influence was a liability and he had grounds to dismiss her, but he had done it himself more than a dozen times at the height of his own battle with alcoholism. Richard looked for the good in people. Instead of taking out the disciplinary forms, he paged Heron to his office and waited patiently, the pillowcase on his desk.

When she arrived some twenty minutes later, he asked her to close the door and waited until she sat down to unveil the liquor. Heron took one look at it and began to cry. She sobbed into her hands and when the storm eventually passed, she begged for her job.

"I won't report this to the board on one condition." He stared at her across the table, forcing himself to look stern. He had perfected the art with Bailey’s interns. "You come to AA with me, commit to it, and show me that I can trust you."

"I'm not an alcoholic!"

"Then you have nothing to gain or lose by going, do you?"

"But-"

"And, Dr. Heron? I'll expect you to agree to daily urine samples and if you fail ONE, your career at Seattle Grace will end."

Sydney thanked him, but she was crying again as she left his office. He had given her the rest of the day off. Gritting his teeth, he pulled up a spreadsheet with attendance and notated her approved day. He scrolled to Callie's name and made a face when he saw the many notes and occurrences. They were all understandable to HIM, but the hospital board had flagged her for further scrutiny. She would have to appear before them if he could not intercede on her behalf.

As he stared at Callie’s name he realized that she had quite a bit in common with Sydney. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. What he was thinking was unheard of and Marcel, the coordinator of the local chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous, would likely shoot the idea down, but he felt compelled to try.

Sydney would need a sponsor and Callie would *have* to participate fully with the program to be that person.

And Callie needed to be that person in order to see herself clearly.

________

Two days passed without a phone call from Cambyses. Callie had sent texts, emailed, and left several threatening voice mails. Raphael was gearing up to start a manhunt when his errant son arrived on Callie's doorstep looking older than he had ever had before. He had grown a full beard and had dark circles under his eyes, which were free of his ozone blue contacts. Wordlessly, Raphael stepped onto the porch and hugged the much taller man. Cambyses held on tight to him and Raph was alarmed, more so than he had ever been where Cam was concerned, when he felt his son’s gaunt frame. "What's wrong?"

"Is Callie here?"

"She is, but you'll scare her to death if she sees you like this." Raphael glanced up at the oily locks framing his son's face. "Come in and take a shower. She took the dog for a walk."

Cam lifted his duffel and followed behind Raphael. "Where's Mom?"

"Right here, sweetheart." Mel walked down the hallway and gazed at Cam in shock. "Who are you and what have you done to my beautiful boy?"

Cam let his duffel drop to the sofa as he pulled her into his arms. She smelled like home, warm and inviting. He hated to ruin her hair, but his tears dropped onto the top of her head like a leaky faucet. With his eyes closed, he didn't see the horrified expression on his parent's faces.

"What is it, Cam?" Mel asked, cupping his grizzled cheeks in her palms. "Is it you and Blake?"

"No," he replied. "I just - I hated being so far away while this stuff went down. And seeing her on the news. God ... she looked so small and scared."

"You'll be happy to know that Callie's appetite has returned with a vengeance. She had the same reaction to seeing herself." Raphael clapped him on the back. "Are you hungry?"

"I am."

"Go and get cleaned up, sweetheart, and by that I mean shave." Melana stood on her toes to hug him again. "Dinner will be ready soon. Where's Blake?"

Cam shrugged. "Working. He'll be here for Thanksgiving."

Raphael watched as Cam headed down the hallway, shoulders slumped, head bowed. "It must be a lover's quarrel."

"He said they're fine," Mel replied.

"I looked that same way during ours."

"I looked quite radiant."

"You should. You spent a small fortune at the salon and spa."

"I sure did."

_____

Callie watched as Alex gingerly tossed a stick for Chunk. They would be returning to work the following day and both of them were still so sore it hurt to move. She smiled when Chunk brained himself on a low hanging tree branch and attacked the offending limb with gusto. He had the same affinity for tearing up her shoes.

Alex joined her on the blanket and nudged her with his shoulder. "Penny for your thoughts."

"I need new shoes."

He rolled his eyes. "Men think about sex and women think about shoes."

"You thinking about sex, Jock Strap?"

"Are you in my vicinity? You do it to me."

"Our sex life has suffered."

"Suffered? No, it died, came back to life, and then got the flu."

"We don't have the flu."

"My body aches enough to have it"

"Wimp. I was in the water much longer than you."

"Cal?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm really proud of you for telling your parents the other day."

"It was hard."

"And you survived."

She wrinkled her nose. "Barely. My dad was pissed."

"No, he was disappointed, which is technically worse."

Callie lifted his hand and looked at his watch. "We should head back."

"Did you hear anything about Finn?"

Callie was startled that he asked at all. "His family wants to keep him under until they can get here. They don't want him to wake up scared."

"Where are they? It's been days!"

"They were out of the country. Izzie had a hard time tracking them."

Alex helped her stand and folded the blanket, whistling for Chunk, who stopped assaulting the tree and followed them. "You should be there when he wakes up."

Callie raised a brow. "I was planning on it. He was hit bringing me lunch so it’s technically my fault."

Alex stopped walking and glared at her. His first instinct was to insult the man and *her*. Jealousy was never pretty and Alex felt it to his bones. He opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it shut, grinding his teeth.

Braced for an outburst, she said, "We're friends. I never said anything to you about being friends with Ava and I never mention it when you call her."

Alex narrowed his eyes. She had him there. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

"Real fine or passive aggressive fine?"

"Real fine." He held out his hand and waited for her to take it. "When do you want to buy shoes? Today or tomorrow after work? I need time to mentally prepare for shopping."

Callie knew that he had just forced his temper back down so she took pity on him. "Not today. Maybe when we go get a tree after Thanksgiving."

He stopped walking again. "In all the crowds?!?"

Chunk barked suddenly and shot out of the trail ahead of them. Callie pulled Alex along behind her, then let him go and broke into a very painful jog when she saw Cam scratching Chunk's ears. Her brother saw her coming and met her halfway, briefly holding her at arms length as if to make sure she was truly there, then he hugged her, crushing her against his chest.

"Nobody told me you were sailing. I didn't know you were out there," he whispered against her hair. "I swear to God, Callie ... if I had known-"

"You'd what? Stop terrorism?"

"For you? Yes."

Callie grinned up at him. "Did you just shave?"

"Mom made me."

"You smell like an apricot and you're bleeding." She pressed a cut on his chin, causing him to hiss. "Wonder twins don't smell like apricot or-"

"It was YOUR shaving gel, Einstein."

"Oh." She held up her fist. "You ready?"

Cambyses held up his own and when she said 'Wonder Twin Power, activate' she was laughing too hard at Alex's reaction to notice that her twin had not said it as well.

-------

Addison was sitting in the cafeteria the following day when Callie joined her. She looked up from her Blackberry and said, "Did Irene make a scene?"

"You poet," Callie replied. "No, she didn't. She didn't look up to see that I was there."

Addy glanced at the checkout, where Alex was watching his mother with a stony expression on his face. "She's not looking at Alex either. Oh, wait, wait, she just said something to him and he's saying something back. I think it's about the food. She's giving him something extra. Ack! He caught me staring!"

Addison returned to her chat with Naomi, an old friend from college, and kept her eyes on it when Alex slid his tray onto the table. She pretended to be shocked to see him when she looked up again. "Oh, when did you get here?"

Callie sighed. "Addison, you are stripped of your Jedi ranking."

Alex smiled at them both. "We were talking about food and nothing else."

"You should. Talk, I mean." Callie put her hand over his. "Tis the season or whatever."

Mark joined their table and glowered at Callie. "I need you for a consult after we're done here."

"Please say it involves carnage and mayhem," she replied and sipped her Coke. "I need it."

"I have a dancer who wants to remove her ribs so her corset can be tighter." Mark rolled his eyes. "Vain people are the bane of my existence."

"Burlesque?" Callie asked.

"What?" Mark raised a brow. "Tell me you're not genuinely asking me what kind of dancer she is! Like it matters!!"

"Damn, someone's cranky." Callie looked curiously at Addison, who shook her head. "I'll do your consult, but my scalpel hand is strong so be nice to me."

"Be nice to her," Alex agreed. "Because if you put her in a bad mood ... *I* get to deal with it."

"And I need to see you after you’re finished with Mark," Addison said, not looking up from her chat. "Okay?"

"Why?" Callie asked suspiciously, watching color flood her friend’s face. "What did you do?"

"It’s a *girl* thing."

"I happen to be a woman," Callie told her. "But whatever."

Addison opened her mouth to reply, then stiffened suddenly, looking over Callie’s shoulder. Alex turned to see what had caught her eye and his jaw tightened. Oblivious to the tension, Callie bit into her chicken sandwich and then jumped when a familiar voice said, "Callie, can I talk to you?"

"No," Alex answered for her, addressing his mother with the kind of voice he usually reserved for annoying interns. "You can’t."

Putting her sandwich down, Callie laid her hand on his leg and said, "I don’t mind."

"I do," he replied, still glaring at Irene. "Anything you need to say to her ... say it to me."

Irene shifted uncomfortably, her eyes straying to Mark and Addison, who discreetly looked away. "I wanted to tell you ... er ... Callie ... that I didn’t kill her ferret. I was walking him on his leash and he got into poison in the guard shack. Leon saw a rat in there a few days before. I didn’t know it was there and I was leaving some instructions about the gate there. I didn’t know."

Callie met her eyes, searching them for the truth. They were Alex’s eyes and she felt herself softening just looking into them. She ached to believe her. She needed to believe her. She *had* to know that there was still a little good left in the world after all that she had been through. "It’s okay."

"No, it’s not okay." Alex shook his head, still glaring at Irene. "You were happy about it. You were glad. I heard it."

"I was upset, son."

"Don’t call me that."

"I was upset and I wrongly took it out on her. I didn’t mean any of what I said and I am very, very sorry." Irene was wringing her hands hard enough to leave her white knuckled. "I saw what happened on the news. I know you loved the yacht. I was terrified for both of you. Callie, you must be devastated to lose Goon Docks."

"It was more devastating to lose you," Callie told her. "So -"

"Callie," Alex interrupted. "Leave it alone. Let’s just go eat in the lounge."

She took a deep breath and glared at him. "If my mother can forgive my father for what *he* did, then you can forgive her for having a bad day. She’s your *mother*, Jock Strap."

When Alex shook his head, Irene bowed her own, rested a hand on Callie’s shoulder briefly, and walked back across the cafeteria. Mark and Addison pretended to be engrossed with something on Addy’s Blackberry, but Callie didn’t broach the topic again.

She understood her husband well enough to know that he simply would not budge on this one.

She’d have to gently nudge him until he caved.

*~*~*~*~

"Please?"

"I don’t want to, Addison."

"Callie, who else is there!?"

"Uh... someone on the gynie squad?" Callie stared at the phallic shaped transvaginal ultrasound. "It’s not like we’re going to see a damn thing. You’re not *that* far along."

"I just ... I need to do this. If we don’t see anything ... we don’t see anything, but I have to try."

"Then *you* do it! Think of it as a tampon and just ...stick it up there."

"I’d do it for you."

"That’s because you *like* molesting women. Everyone knows that females who are ob/gyns are really closet lesbians who get off on fondling-"

"And everyone knows that female orthopedic surgeons only chose that field to flirt with the guys."

"So ...we’re both right."

"You are not right! I am not gay!" Addison, who had stripped her pants off and put on a gown, hopped up onto the table and put her feet in the stirrups. "I’ll talk you through it."

"No part of me wants to see whether you shave or -"

"You know that I wax. We do that *together*."

"In separate rooms."

Addison slid the edge of the table, planting her backside on the edge. "Are you wearing gloves?"

Callie held up her hand, wiggling her gloved fingers. "I should stick this up your ass since I’m still harboring ill will over the whole fight in the bathroom. I bet we’d see your head up there."

Her mouth dropping open, Addy pushed herself up on her elbows. "You’re still mad at me for that?"

"A little."

"I said I was sorry."

"And I’m sure I’ll eventually get over it."

"Callie! I’m the one who should be pissed. *You* bought alcohol after that. And you don’t get to blame it on me for the fight because *you* are the one to blame. You can’t look to alcohol to cure a bad day!"

"Which is why it’s called a *problem*. I have a *problem*. And you’re supposed to support me and -"

"No, I’m supposed to call you on your bullshit and hold you accountable. Because you don’t."

Holding up the sonogram again, Callie said, "Keep talking and I will not lube this thing."

"I only confronted you because you’re my best friend and when you suffer ... I suffer." She hissed when Callie slid the apparatus into place. "You didn’t lube it. You asshole."

"I told you to stop talking. You were *accountable* for this." Glancing at the monitor, Callie moved a little deeper. "I see blobs."

"Turn it so I can see it."

Rolling her eyes, Callie turned the rolling table and moved to the side of the bed, one hand still between the other woman’s legs. When Addison told her to move to the left, she did as she was told and prayed that no one opened the door. She moved to the right and Addison let out the loudest, shrillest, most earsplitting scream that had ever been heard by mankind. Callie screamed as well, yanking the ultrasound from Addison’s body and flinging it across the room as if it was toxic.

Rushing back to the foot of the bed, Callie pushed her friends legs apart as if she expected to see a bloody mess. Nothing was amiss except for the shaking in the woman’s pale legs. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The doors were flung open by Mark and Chief Webber, who entered just in time to hear Addison say, "Twins."

*~*~*~*~
Ch 21
Dedicated: To my chat buddies. You guys are a breath of fresh air in an otherwise crappy day and I adore you. The photos are pretty great too. (You know who YOU are)



*~*~*~*~

Mark took the news that Addison was carrying twins much better than she did. He grinned from ear to ear and declared himself 'one potent bastard'. Addison assured him that the bastard part was correct and proceeded to recount in vivid detail every twin delivery she had performed and how horrible it was for the woman. Callie and Richard left them alone to celebrate or kill each other and headed into the hallway.

Richard motioned at the conference room and Callie followed, her worry evident on her features. "Is something wrong?"

He pulled out a chair for her and waited for her to sit. He moved across from her and studied her for a few seconds. "I have a proposition for you."

"My mother is happily married and I am not helping you -"

He chuckled. "Yes, I know, but this doesn't concern your mother. It concerns Sydney Heron."

"I can look you in the eye and say that I am not the one who put a pig brain in her locker."

Richard hissed. He had forgotten to lock up after finding the bottle. "Someone put a pig brain in her locker?"

"Not me."

He waved a hand. "This isn't about that either. This is about the fact that she is an alcoholic."

"I know."

His face remained impassive. "You know but you didn't feel the need to take her to an AA meeting?"

Callie blinked a few times. "What's that old saying? You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink?"

"That’s not the best analogy ... although I am beginning to learn that with you."

Callie's eyes widened. "Did Alex tell you I bought alcohol?"

Richard pursed his lips together. "When?"

"The other day. When my dad left."

"No. He didn’t tell me that. *You* should have called me and told me yourself because I could have talked you out of it. It’s my job as your sponsor to talk you out of it, but I can’t do that if you don’t let me in."

"It's fine. I bought it, but I didn’t touch it."

"That doesn't mean you need to drop out of AA. You haven't been attending meetings. I need you to really commit to this, Callie, because it only works if you work it."

"But-"

"What I am saying to you is that the board of directors is very interested in your attendance. They will want proof of your various hospitalizations and when they see that you almost died from alcohol poisoning ... I want to be able to say that you are actively sponsoring someone in AA."

"Sponsoring?"

"Sydney."

Callie recoiled as if he had slapped her. "There is a reason she got a brain in her locker! She is annoying and bossy and ditzy and -"

"And you were all that and more when I intervened and asked you to come to meetings with me. You don't come as much as you should, but I still sponsor you and pray for you and believe in you. Do this for her, Callie. You'll save your job and yourself. Not to mention Dr. Heron."

"And then I’ll get a pig brain in *my* locker."

He got to his feet and patted her on the shoulder. "Have they woken Finn Dandridge up yet?"

Callie glanced up at the big clock on the wall. "In an hour."

"I’ll see you at the meeting tonight. It’s at five thirty. I’ll tell Dr. Heron that she can ride with you from here."

Defeated, she sighed and nodded.

*~*~*~*~

After Mark and Addison celebrated privately in the exam room, he strolled into the hallway with a huge grin and a light step. He practically skipped to the nurse’s station to rifle through the charts. He found something that looked interesting enough to keep him busy the rest of the afternoon and scanned the notes. One of the nurse’s on duty greeted him amicably and he glanced up to watch her page Dr. Yang to room four seventeen. The idea hit him all at once and he said, "Can you make an announcement for me?"

"Sure, Dr. Sloan."

"Hang on." He scribbled out a note and handed it to her. "Say that."

She read through it and looked back up at him. "I don’t think-"

"Your name is Chelsea, isn’t it?" Mark gave her the patented McSteamy grin and watched her lick her lips and nod. It was so easy sometimes, he thought. "Chelsea, I’ll take the blame."

"It’s your funeral," she said, but her tone was light and her smile was playful when she pressed the button and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I’d like to announce that our very own Mark and Addison *Sloan* made the most of their honeymoon and are expecting twins. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. *Sloan*."

Chelsea hung up and looked at him. "Did I emphasize Sloan enough? You underlined it about ten times."

"You did fine." Mark took the note from her and winked. "You have a great day."

"MARK SLOAN!"

Chelsea leaned over the counter to see Addison, nostrils flaring, stomping down the hallway. "I think my day will be better than *yours*."

"What do you mean?"

"Women don’t generally announce their pregnancy on a loud speaker *or* before the third month is up."

"Shit! Why didn’t you tell me?!" He looked back at Chelsea, but she was gone. Squaring his shoulders, Mark attempted to give his wife the same grin that had addled Chelsea’s mind, but it didn’t work. Addison stopped just before him and sent the toe of her high heel crashing against his shin bone. With a yelp, Mark lifted his leg, hopping up and down on the one that was undamaged. "Addison! What the hell-"

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT!?"

Mark hobbled to a nearby chair and flopped into it, tugging his pants leg up high enough to see it. "I don’t have enough time to tell *everyone* today and *everyone* had to know. If I had cigars ... I’d past those out, too. Look what you did to my leg!"

"Did it ever enter your very small brain that *maybe* I wanted to host a dinner party and tell people myself!?"

"You don’t host dinner parties, Addison!" Mark reached into the cart beside the chair and rifled through until he found an instant ice pack. He broke it, gave it a shake, then laid it over the goose egg that had popped up over his shin. When he glared up at her, she lifted a brow as if to say ‘what?’ and it infuriated him. "It’s not like you could have waited that long to announce it! You’re already gaining weight and -"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY!?"

"You had to zip your skirt with a clothes hanger! I saw it!"

"I'm *pregnant*, you asshole!"

"Which is why I shared the news! You're *pregnant*! Not just eating too much!"

She kicked his other shin and stalked back down the hallway.

He yelled after her. "What was God thinking when he made *women* carry kids!? Men could do a much better job!"

Callie walked by at that moment. She put her hands on her hips. "What did you just say?"

"I think Addison broke my leg."

"Let me see." Callie watched him roll up his other pants leg. Kneeling down, she lightly touched the red place there. When Mark hissed, she said, "Right here?"

"Duh."

Callie knuckle punched him in the exact spot that Addison had kicked. He howled with pain. "Callie! That hurt like hell!"

"Cry baby! *That* is why men don’t have the babies!"

He was too busy searching for another ice pack to comment as she walked away.

Twenty minutes later, he limped into the break room, where he received a round of applause from Derek and Alex. Grumbling, Mark poured himself a cup of coffee and held onto the back of every chair as he picked his way gingerly across the floor to their table. "Women? Suck."

Derek glanced down at Mark’s legs. "Why are your pants wet down there?"

"Because I am *that* hung and when I pissed on myself -"

"Try again," Derek suggested. "I’m hoping to digest here."

"I have ice packs tied to my shins with ace bandages."

Alex chuckled. "That’s gotta sting."

"She got you with a pointy toed Prada, huh?" Derek asked, clearly amused.

"I think it was a Manolo Blahnik. That sounds deadlier." Mark sipped his coffee and grimaced. "She’s pissed as hell."

"Well, yeah." Alex looked at the other man as if he had lost his mind. "You just stole her thunder. *She* has to carry the very plural kids and you didn’t even let her tell the Angry Woman Club herself. You did it."

Mark made a face. "Oh Jesus. I’m gonna get *their* wraith, huh?"

Alex and Derek looked at one another and nodded.

Mark swallowed hard. "I also accidentally implied that she was fat."

"You mean showing?" Alex asked.

"No. Fat."

"Watch your back," Derek advised as he stood up and tossed his snack wrapper into the trash. "Alex, we need to go and speak with the Dandridge family. I want to have enough time to answer all their questions before we wake Finn up."

"I hope you make it through the day, buddy," Alex said, patting Mark on the shoulder. "If it’s any consolation, I think Callie’s got a pretty busy day and she’s usually the master mind when it comes to their schemes."

"Watch me not be consoled by that." Mark watched them leave and pushed his own chair back, groaning at the pain that raced through his limbs. "Women? Suck!"

*~*~*~*~

"I could put a pig brain in his locker," Callie offered, handing Addison another tissue. "Guaranteed to make him mad. I'll get an extra juicy one and let it leak brain drain all over his shit."

"I knew that was you!" Cristina said, swinging her legs back and forth. She was perched on the sink and Meredith stood beside her, arms crossed over her chest. "Callie, you are still my idol. Sydney screamed like a little girl!"

Callie gave a small bow. "What was I supposed to do when I saw her stupid locker just sitting there clearly unlocked? I’m only human."

Izzie, who was leaning against the wall, chuckled. "And verily I say unto you ... that was *good*."

"Did you go to confessional today?" Callie asked.

"After what I did with Eros this morning ... I need to avoid church entirely." Izzie chuckled. "If I confessed ... the Priest would have a heart attack."

"Or get a hard on," Yang suggested. "You could be all phone sex operator about it. ‘And then, Father'," she said huskily, "he pinned me against the wall and slid his rock hard-"

"I told you to stop reading fanfic," Meredith interjected. "Who writes fanfic about that stupid hospital show?"

"Hey, doctors do it better!" Cristina assured her. "I got a lot of ideas from that chapter during lunch."

"Can we focus?" Addison snapped, causing all the smiles to fade. The bathroom became so quiet it was deafening. "If one more person makes a snide remark about my honeymoon ... I’ll go crazy. I will!"

"Embrace the trashy," Callie advised. "Lots of women get pregnant on their honeymoon."

"Yes, they’re called trailer trash," Cristina stated seriously.

"Hey!" Izzie pointed a finger at her. "On behalf of trailer trash ... I can assure you that most of us don’t even wait for a honeymoon to get knocked up. So, Addison, you at least have that working for you."

"Why would he do this!?" Addison shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "Most men would be content to wait and -"

"Sloan is *not* most men," Yang said. "He posted on the bulletin board that you finally agreed to marry him. Plus he invited *everyone*."

"And he sent everyone a text message when you wore your new lab coat. The one that says Addison *Sloan* on it." Meredith shrugged. "Maybe he’s just into bragging."

"Oh, he’s totally into bragging," Callie assured everyone. "He told Alex that I like to -" Catching herself, Callie turned her attention to the mirror, where she fussed with her hair. "Mark likes to talk."

"And what did he tell Alex that you like to do?" Izzie prodded, amusement evident on her features.

"Yeah, do tell," Addison added. "The floor’s all yours."

Callie pulled her hair over her ears to hide how red they were. "The point is ... men like Mark are egotistical as hell. If *he* could carry the baby and get all the attention he would."

"No, he’s scared of pain," Addy said.

"Dude, he sutured his own face!" Cristina shook her head. "He’s hard core enough to push one out."

The gears started to turn in Callie’s head and she smiled. "Do we still have those pregnancy bellies that the men wore during Lamaze? The thirty pound ones?"

"Yeah, they’re in the basement and ... oh my god ... that’s *genius*," Meredith said. "Only ... we should make it *fifty* pounds because twins -"

"Oh my god, don’t jinx me!" Addison cried. "Fifty pounds!? My ankles would never be the same!"

"How do we get him to wear it?" Meredith asked.

"Easy," Callie replied, grinning sweetly. "Men like Mark may be egotistical, but lack of sex can bring them to their knees. Addison, lock down the cookie box and hide the key. He’ll either wear the belly for a couple of days or go blind from masturbation."

"Oooh, masturbation!" Cristina nodded. "Pleasure yourself in front of him and then, if he still doesn’t want to wear it, go to the sex shop."

"Now you’re *my* hero," Callie told her. "That’s perfect."

"Dude. Fanfic," Cristina replied.

"I can *not* do that in front of him!" Addison looked aghast at the mere thought. "I don’t do that."

Callie raised a brow. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but when you lived with me on Goon Docks ... you wore out *three* shower massagers. Or was it four?"

It was Addison’s turn to blush. "Okay, fine! I’ll entice him and play dirty."

"And that," Callie said, gesturing at her counterparts, "is what makes the Angry Woman Club a time honored tradition now. We can play dirty with the best of them."

"All for one." Meredith put her hand out.

"And one for all," they chorused as one, putting their hands on top of hers.

"Let the games begin," Meredith added. "I’ll put the pressure on Derek to encourage him to wear it."

"I’ll do the same with Alex."

"And I’ve got Burke covered."

"Even the marines would fear us," Izzie said. "I’ll start to play on Mark’s sensitivities. You know ... after all ... I had a kid so I can explain in vivid detail just what your hormones go through."

"So, it’s war."

"It so is."

*~*~*~*~

A little while later, Callie found Meredith standing in the hallway outside Finn’s room. She was peering in through the window at his prone form when Callie joined her. Neither spoke. Neither needed to. A man who bore a striking resemblance to Finn stood at the foot of the bed, hanging on every word that Derek uttered. He was clearly Finn’s father and the woman who stood beside the bed was chubby and serene as she gazed down at her son in a way that only a mother could. Melana had looked at Callie that way many, many times and she knew that above anyone else ... Finn would find comfort with his mother. Callie always had.

For the most part.

Derek turned to address an intern and caught Callie’s eye. He motioned her inside and introduced her to Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan Dandridge. Up close, there was no mistaking that they were his parents and as Callie shook their hands, she heard herself robotically telling them that she had done everything she could to save their son’s leg. She stopped short of telling them that he would recover fully ... because she simply did not believe he would. Instead, she consoled them by telling them that she was very fond of Finn and they had become friends.

While she chatted with them, Derek halted the medicine and waited patiently for Finn to stir. It didn’t take long for Finn’s blue eyes to flutter open and when he eventually spoke ... he didn’t ask for his mother. The first word he uttered was ‘Callie’. To her credit, Callie was able to hide her shock and hurried to his side, where she grasped the hand that was searching the air for her. Leaning low over him, she waited for his eyes to focus on her and said, "How do you feel?"

He gave her a big, cheesy grin. "Did you ever get your lunch?"

She chuckled. "Well, the lunch you bought me didn’t survive, but you did ... and that’s what matters."

"Survive?" he asked, then glanced at his surroundings. He blinked a few times and said, "A car. I was hit by a car, right?"

"Yeah, but you made it. You're here."

With his free hand, he reached up and touched her cheek. "I had to make it. I want to see how big that dog of yours is gonna get."

One side of Finn’s head had been shaved and his face was mottled with bruises, but he was gazing up at her with the sweetest expression she had ever seen. Brushing the hair off his forehead, she leaned down and pressed a kiss there. Against his ear, she whispered, "Finn, I wasn’t able to save your leg. We had to amputate it. I - I had to amputate it and I wish I could change that."

His grip on her hand tightened and she heard him gasp. The beeping on his heart monitor intensified and she hastily added, "I’m so sorry. I worked on you for hours. I did. I tried everything."

It took several seconds for him to get his breathing under control. For a moment, she thought he would hyperventilate, but eventually, he loosened his grip and she was able to move back so she saw him better. He gave her a forced smile and said, "So ... this is what I have to work with? One leg. And from the looks of it ... it’s not a very good one."

He pointed at the leg that was held upright in traction. Undaunted, he continued, "I can do this."

"You bet you can," Mr. Dandridge said, putting a hand on his son’s chest. "We’ll be here every step of the way."

"They’ll be very small steps," Finn replied, his eyes sparkling with tears. He looked at his mother and added, "They shaved my head, didn’t they?"

"They did," she said.

He noticed that Meredith was at the foot of his bed and sighed. "I’m surrounded by beautiful women and I’ve got one leg, half a head of hair, and I’m pretty sure I don’t smell that great. Someone sedate me so I at least don’t care."

Callie turned to grin at Meredith and realized that Alex was right behind the other woman. She had forgotten that he was assisting Derek for the day. The look on his face assured her that he had witnessed the entire exchange. When he stepped out into the hallway, she patted Finn on the arm and said she would see him later. She found her husband busily making notes in Finn’s chart and cleared her throat. "Alex-"

Without looking up, Alex said, "Do you think he’ll walk again?"

"No, I don’t." She stood beside him, braced for what was inevitably coming. "I think his remaining leg will always be too weak to support his weight. There was nerve damage."

He closed the chart and leaned against the nurse’s station, finally studying her. "Are you okay?"

"Am I ... what?"

"You feel like it’s your fault and it’s not. The person who hit him had a blood alcohol level three times the legal limit. It’s *their* fault. Not yours."

"I knew the person was drunk, but -"

"It’s okay, baby." Alex touched her cheek in the same spot Finn had. "He’ll need friends. You should help him as much as possible."

"Are you -"

"That big dog that he can’t wait to see grow up demolished *my* shoes this morning. We need to shop when we get off." He leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear. "And maybe we can find an empty dressing room. You know ... to see what fits."

"Now *that* is the best idea I’ve heard all day," she replied, giving him a kiss. "But we’ll have to do it tomorrow. I have an AA meeting tonight and I can’t miss it."

He tilted his head to one side, watching her closely. His expression was one of deep concentration and she squirmed under the scrutiny. He took pity on her by saying, "In case I haven’t mentioned it today ... I’m proud of you."

"I’m proud of you, too."

Callie didn’t have to tell him why.

They both knew that it had taken every ounce of restraint he possessed to keep his cool after watching her interact with Finn.

*~*~*~*~

"Honey, it’s okay."

"No, it’s not."

"I promise it is."

"I can’t have twins."

"Well, you’re going to."

Addison flung the bathroom door open and glared at Melana, who was casually leaning against the bureau. The amusement that danced across the older woman’s face was both infuriating and calming for Addy. "This means I have double the chances of screwing up."

"Or," Mel replied, extending her hand. She waited for Addison to take it, then led her to the bed in Callie’s guest room and sat beside her, "you can view this as God giving you back what you gave away."

"You mean the abortion?"

Melana nodded. "You are technically carrying your second child and now ... you’ll have the two you should have had all along."

"You think the abortion was wrong?"

"I don’t believe in it, but I’d never judge you for it. Never. It was your right to choose and you did."

Addison rubbed a hand over her face. "I’ve regretted it a million times."

"God knows that."

"I’ve never been religious."

"You don’t have to be religious. God is religious enough for the both of you and He knows what He’s doing, sweetheart. When I found out that I was pregnant with twins I locked myself in the bedroom and threatened Raphael with castration, flogging, and a frying pan against his head."

"Was he happy about the twins?"

"Oh, he was elated. He strutted around like the cock of the walk, telling everyone that he was twice the man anyone else was." Melana laughed at the memory. "And then he tried to find one of those plastic bubbles for me to live in. You know ... Danny Zuko was in one."

"Danny Zuko?"

"That handsome man with the strong chin in ‘Grease’."

"John Travolta?" Addison laughed. "That’s right. He was in ‘The Boy in the Plastic Bubble’. Strange movie."

"My doting husband actually considered one of those for me. I became incredibly clumsy the bigger I got. I broke my wrist, which now that I think about it, could be why Calliope likes to break bones. I’m fairly certain she is the one who startled me by kicking my ribs that day."

"I kicked Mark in the legs today."

"Is that why he’s walking like an old man? My goodness, honey, you're too early in your pregnancy to have homicidal tendencies."

Mel changed her mind when Addison told her what he had done that day. Rubbing her hands together, Melana said, "Perhaps I should kick a little higher and to the middle. What do you think?"

"I approve." Addison sighed. "Is he here yet?"

Melana nodded. "Mark is out there with the blueprints to your house forcing Raphael, Cambyses and Alex to help him figure out where to build another bedroom. I think perhaps he’s jumping the gun. I don’t think you’ll need it."

"Why?"

"Callie and Cam had their own bedrooms, but the only time they didn’t cry was when they slept together. We finally put them in one room. When they were old enough to crawl out of their cribs, Cam found his way into Callie’s every single night. Twins are special, Addison. They have a bond that we’ll never understand. Odds are, they’ll demand to be together."

Addison looked thoughtful. "I hope my twins are like your twins."

"Oh, honey, bite your tongue. My little heathens tormented me from birth. I’m fairly certain that Callie was clutching my intestines with both hands as she finally made her debut."

"Where is your female heathen tonight?"

"She’s at an AA meeting."

"Good for her."

"She was picking up Dr. Heron."

Addison’s eyes widened. "Maybe it’s a bad idea for us to hang around for dinner. She won’t be in a good mood when she gets back."

"Nonsense. She gave me very strict orders to cook something wonderful and invite you over." Melana hugged her. "Now, let’s go check on dinner. I have a few insults I’d like to try out on your husband."

"I feel better already."

*~*~*~*~

Cambyses was sitting on the swing that overlooked the cove. The sun was beginning to set and he watched, quietly moving to and fro. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the gate open or notice the headlights that indicated Callie’s return. He was startled when he felt hands on his back and nearly leaped out of the swing. Callie grinned at him, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "I know you’re usually the one to push, but it’s my turn."

Cam tightened his grip on the ropes, but she didn’t push. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned down, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Want to tell me about it?" she asked softly.

His hand came up to cover hers and he leaned back against her chest. "Do you ever think about Uncle Xeno?"

"Yeah."

"Do you miss him?"

"I miss the Xeno that we grew up with ... not the man that tried to kill Daddy." She felt the tension in his shoulders and kissed his cheek. "You spent a lot of time with him. More than me. You went to Greece every summer to see him. I didn’t think about how hard this must be for you."

Cam nodded. "It is hard. Do you think ... if he hadn’t died ... that you would have forgiven him?"

"No." Callie hugged him a little closer when she felt his breath hitch. "Family means everything to me. It always has. And he betrayed our family. I mean, Daddy could have died."

"Dad betrayed Mom by using you, Callie. And you forgave that."

"It’s not the same thing." She walked around him, her hand touching his on the rope. "Daddy never did *anything* to intentionally hurt me. Or Mom. We just wanted to find the truth at the heart of Talking Rock. It consumed him, Cam, and I can’t fault him for that because it consumed me, too. The difference is ... Xeno wanted to kill to protect that place and Daddy would never do that. We *stopped* looking for answers when people died because of it. That tunnel caved in and we were *done*."

Cam reached up and touched the burn on her cheek. "Does it hurt?"

"I’m still pretty sore, but I think that comes from hitting the water at like ... fifty miles and hour. That explosion blew us about thirty feet off the yacht. It was enough to knock Goon Docks on her side."

"And the water’s frigid this time of year."

She chuckled. "It wasn’t as pleasant as sinking the yacht in Miami. At least that was like a warm bath."

Cam reached out and took her hand. She was wearing the bracelet he had given her for her birthday. His thumb trailed over the words engraved on it. "‘Not all who wander are lost’," he read, looking up and meeting her eyes. "Xeno was lost, Cal. Misguided or ... misinformed. But he was also family and I think that you should forgive him."

"I made peace with it, Cam. I went back up to his gravesite and I made peace with it, but I’m glad he’s dead. It stopped me from having to murder him with my bare hands. And I would have!"

"Callie, that’s horrible!"

"You stop being my family when you try to kill someone I love. Do you get that he put that bomb on Uncle Kick’s boat? He almost killed us. He would have killed us to get to Daddy. I don’t care how misguided he was, you don’t do that to your *blood*. It would have *destroyed* Mom to lose any one of us. So, no, I won’t forgive him. If he’s rotting in hell right now, then I’m fine with that." She studied his face, then brushed his hair back. "Speaking of hell... you look like it. Mom thinks you and Blake are fighting. Is that true?"

"No."

"You can talk to me about anything."

"I know." He absently touched the papers in her pocket. Alcoholics Anonymous was written on the top. "How was your AA meeting?"

"Oh, God. It sucked. Sydney didn’t say one word to me the entire time. She rode in my car, sat next to me in the meeting, and I took her back to the hospital and she didn’t speak at all. Not once."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Well... no ... because I generally equate her voice to nails on a chalkboard, but this is so out of character for her that I don’t know what to do." Callie turned to watch as the sun was finally swallowed by the ocean. "I just know that I never want to be like her. She’s alienated everyone because of alcohol and I refuse to let that happen to me."

"It won’t," he told her. "You’re going to beat this. You don’t fail. You never fail."

"Only because I am one half of a dynamic duo." She kissed him on the cheek again and held up her fist.

She was frowning when she followed him into the house.

Unless she was mistaken, Cam no longer felt the same way.

They ‘celebrated’ the news of Addison’s twins until nine that night. It was not a happy affair, however. Addison was not speaking to Mark and Mark compensated for that by rambling on and on about nothing. Callie kept a close eye on her brother, who was doing a really good job of pretending to be interested in Mark’s idle chatter, but she knew him like the back of her hand. Something was on his mind and she didn’t like it at all. When Addison and Mark left, Cam went to take a shower while Melana sat next to Alex on the sofa, engrossed in footage from the terrorist attack. Lingering in the doorway while she ate a slice of pie, Callie watched the aerial footage from the Miami cruise ship.

When she saw the three stars ... the plate shattered at her feet.

Raphael was flipping through the newspaper behind her and he quickly rushed to her side. "Mija?"

"Daddy, it’s the Niarchos-"

"Hush!" Raphael cleared his throat and looked at Melana, who had hurried into the kitchen when she heard the dish shatter. "Our daughter is clumsy tonight."

Melana watched as Raphael bent down to pick up the pieces and Callie grabbed the dish towel, mopping up the slices of apples that had splattered the ground. Their heads were together and they were talking softly to one another. Her husband had his hand on Callie’s shoulder and unless she was mistaken ... Callie was shaking like a leaf. She couldn’t hear what Raphael was saying, but it was apparent that it was intense. "What’s going on?" she finally demanded.

"Nothing, honey," Raphael replied, tossing the plate into the trash and helping Callie to her feet.

When neither looked at her, Melana put her hands on her hips. "I was not born yesterday."

"I’m going to bed," Callie said quickly. "Goodnight."

"Hold it right there!" Mel snapped. "Why are you two whispering? What are you not telling me?"

"I had a rough day and Daddy was -"

"Look at me," Melana demanded of her daughter. When Callie met her eyes and she saw the tears on her face, she added, "Go on."

"Let her be, Melana." Raphael put his arm around Callie. "She’s exhausted."

"No, she’s not." With her eyes narrowed, Mel stalked toward them. "You two are not doing this to me again. There’s something going on with those cruise ships, isn’t there? Something that makes you, Raphael, feel the need to rewind the footage all hours of the night and watch it repeatedly. I demand to know what it is."

Alex walked into the kitchen behind Melana. "Is everything okay?"

"These two gumshoes are apparently hiding something." She watched as Callie’s eyes moved toward her father. "I won’t go through this again, Raphael! I won’t! And, Calliope, Alex doesn’t deserve it, either! So you both better fess up or I’ll - I’ll - beat you to death with my bare hands!"

"The ship ... it had -" Callie began.

"Shut your damn mouth and go to bed!" Raphael growled. "Right now!"

"Hey!" Alex shook his head. "Don’t talk to her like that!"

"Leave it alone," advised Raphael, nudging Callie toward the door. "Go."

Saying nothing, Callie started to leave the kitchen, but Alex caught her hand. "Baby, what’s wrong?"

"Daddy, tell them."

"No."

"One of you better start talking while you still have your tongues," Melana demanded. "So help me God -"

When her father resolutely crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her mother, Callie took a deep breath and said, "The Triad is responsible for the attack. Not bin Laden or Al Qaeda."

"CALLIE! GOD DAMMIT!" Raphael yelled. "HAVE I TAUGHT YOU NOTHING!? IF YOU SAY ANOTHER WORD ... I WILL -"

"THEN *YOU* TELL THEM!" Callie shouted back. "YOU KNOW WHAT COULD HAPPEN AND I REFUSE TO -"

"DON’T YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO, CALLIOPE! I AM STILL YOUR FATHER AND I AM STILL CALLING THE SHOTS AT FMC!"

"THERE IS NO FMC!" Callie cried. "THIS IS REAL, DADDY! PEOPLE DIED AND WE KNOW THE TRUTH SO-"

"STOP TALKING!" Raphael grabbed her arms, shaking her. "NOW!"

Alex moved between the two, glaring at Raph as he pried his fingers off Callie. "I think I said to watch how you talk to her and I’m telling you right now not to touch her again."

"Don’t, Alex." Callie waited for her father to speak, but he did not so much as glance at her. "The Triad did this and we *know* that, Daddy. We can prove it."

Melana, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet during the father/daughter battle, had a hand to her chest as if she couldn’t breathe. "But ... that organization ended with my father’s death. The CIA shut it down. That’s why ... that’s why he died. They said that he knew the risks and still exposed the truth. He paid with his life, Raphael! You said -"

"I KNOW WHAT I SAID!" Raphael roared. "I WAS WRONG!"

"We - we found out that the Niarchos family started funding it after that," Callie said softly. "It’s why I stole the pass code from Nicky. It all fell into place, but ... if the CIA knew that Daddy had revisited that whole thing ... they would have shut down FMC and tried both of us for treason."

"Treason?" Alex asked, stunned. "How?"

"We sat on information. About Chernobyl, about the space shuttle explosion, and we could have stopped the nineteen ninety three bombing at the World Trade Center." Callie moved away from her father, just in case he decided that yelling was not enough. "We didn’t believe that The Triad was really back in commission. We thought that it was something that was planted by the Niarchos family to mess with us because they found out about FMC. So ... we didn’t say anything about what we knew."

"How could you keep that a secret?" Alex was staring at his wife as if he had never seen her before.

"We thought they were just bragging about everything they had supposedly done in the eighties," Callie explained. "It wasn’t until the bombing that we knew it was true and by then ... it was too late to set it right. We had unintentionally enabled this organization to flourish. And we’d be considered just as guilty." Callie rubbed a hand over her face. "It wasn’t until September Eleventh that we realized the Niarchos emblem had become The Triad emblem as well. They - they sent a pretty clear message to us."

"And that message was on the cruise ships as well," Raphael added, clearly defeated. "The three stars -"

"Oh, *now* you can speak?" Melana growled. "Do you see yet what you’ve done to our daughter? Do you get it yet, Raphael?"

"Wait," Alex cut them both off. "That’s where I saw the flag! Callie, the ship that blew up beside us had a flag on top and it had those three stars like you found on your Uncle Xeno’s leg."

"I got a message the day after ... warning me." Admitting it seemed to bring it all home to Raphael. He sat down at the table and put his head in his hands. "Someone thinks that I got too close to their secrets this time."

"This time?" Callie glared at him. "What did you do?"

"I may have stirred the hornet’s nest, so to speak." He didn’t meet her eyes. He couldn’t. "I made a few inquiries about The Triad while we were in Greece. I used the FMC headquarters to hack into their system and ... I think maybe they traced it. Or maybe Xeno went back and told them that I was digging for fresh dirt because I talked about it with him."

"DO NOT BLAME MY BROTHER FOR ANYTHING ELSE," Mel bellowed. "I MEAN IT! YOU DID THIS, RAPHAEL!"

"It could have been me," Callie said in a low voice. "I hacked into the CIA mainframe to break into Xeno’s phones. If there was a tracer clip in place then it would have alerted The Triad that I was accessing it and they could have pinged it back to Bounty’s Keep."

Raphael jerked and glared at her. "It never dawned on you to turn the jammer on?"

"It obviously never dawned on you either if you think they traced the hack back to you!" Callie snapped. "I didn’t sign on for this, Dad! I signed on for Talking Rock! That’s *all* I ever wanted to mess with!"

"It’s all connected!" snapped Raphael. "It’s all connected and we just have to put the pieces of the puzzle together!"

"No!" Melana grabbed Raphael’s face between her hands. "It ends *now*. Our daughter nearly died *again*. When is it enough for you?! Do you have to see one of us in a coffin before you give this up? Do you? Was it not enough to see my father die? My brother? Who else do I have to sacrifice for you to let this go?"

"She's right. It’s over, Daddy." Callie took a step forward, her hand on Mel's back. "The people on those cruise ships died because of *us*. We lost and *they* paid the price for it. So, stop. Just ... stop ... because the next time we piss them off ... they may skip the big gesture and slit our throats while we sleep."

"They’d never be that direct, Callie. They want us to suffer."

"Well, I’m tired of suffering because of *you*." Callie regarded her father as if he was a roach under her feet. "Do you know what we talked about tonight at AA? The first time we had a drink. Do you know when my first time was? I’ll tell you. I was twelve years old and I had just witnessed an exorcism. You were busy watching the footage of it so you didn’t notice that it had scared me to death. You didn’t notice that I was sitting in the corner with a bottle of liquor. The next morning, you said that I was a trooper because I had fallen right to sleep without letting it bother me, but that’s not true. I passed out because I was so drunk and you thought the headache I had was because of the excitement. Excitement for *you* was torture for *me*.

"I wasn’t *brave*. I didn’t lack a fear gene. I just drank enough to not *care* that I was coming face to face with the things that go bump in the night. You used to accuse the ‘greenhorns’ of taking your alcohol, but that was me. It was the only way I could handle it. It was the only way I could *breathe* through the horror of it all. So it’s not that much of a shock *now* that I want that same relief every single time I get scared." She took a deep breath. "Let it end. It has to end because I can’t do it anymore. You fight the fight, but I wear the bruises and I’m tired of being bruised, Daddy. I’m tired!"

Melana pulled Callie into her arms. She rubbed her back, her hair, and whispered that it was okay. When Raphael got to his feet and reached for his daughter ... Callie pushed his hand away and said, "I’m going to *bed*. Isn’t that what you said I should do, Commander!?"

If looks could kill, Alex would have demolished Raphael. He gave his mother in law a kiss on the cheek and followed his wife from the room. He shut the door against the raised voices and turned on the radio so Callie wouldn’t have to hear it. In the bathroom, he found her filling the tub with water. "Was that true?" She didn’t answer him right away so he gently pulled her around to face him. "Is it true, Callie?"

She nodded.

He hugged her. "It’s okay."

"It is now." The floodgates opened against his shoulder. "The reason it’s easier for me *not* to drink when we’re okay is because I feel safe with you. And the only time I’m not scared is when you’re with me."

"Then you’ll never have to be scared again. Okay?"

"Okay."

*~*~*~*~

Despite the fact that Mark built an enormous fire in the fireplace, the temperature inside their house seemed to drop fifty degrees every time Addison walked into the room. She made her annoyance quite clear by stripping the bedclothes from their bed and putting them in the washing machine. When he asked her what she was doing, she looked him straight in the eye and said, "Getting your smell out of MY bed."

"Great," he said. "Why don’t you just sleep on the sofa? The last time you washed our sheets you bleached them and they looked tie dyed."

"Why don’t you go sleep at the bottom of the lake?"

"That’s not a lake, baby, that’s -"

"PISS OFF, MARK!"

"Is that the best you got?"

"Go to hell!"

"Come on. Try harder."

"I’M NOT TALKING TO YOU!"

"Why not?"

"Because you suck?"

"How do I suck?"

"You told *everyone*!"

"Excuse me, Addison, but you didn’t even tell me you were pregnant until you told Callie and her mother. So don’t you dare bitch at me about who or when I told. These are my kids, too, and if I want to buy a full page ad to announce it, then by god, I will!"

"Why don’t you go stay in the garage? Or better yet ... at the hospital! Where you can announce that your announcement got me mad enough to kill you!"

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. "I only announced it because I’m happy. I want everyone to know that."

"Then wear a smile, asshole! Or a cute little pin that says ‘Twins’!" She threw the laundry basket at him. "And I’m not just pissed about that! You had no right to say what you did about me gaining weight!"

"You are supposed to gain weight, Addison! You need to start gaining right *now* so that we can have healthy babies. You know that multiples are -"

"You’re doing it again! Acting like I'm too stupid to be pregnant," she yelled. "*You* are a plastic surgeon! You are up to your elbows in tits and ass all day. *I* am up to my elbows in placenta and *babies* so I think I know a little bit more than you about what a woman needs to do! And I am DOING IT!"

"Addison-"

"I am one of the top neonatal surgeons in this country. I have had people follow me here from New York. The only thing that followed you is bad juju and possibly a case of crabs!"

"And yet ... you still called me for a cross country booty call."

"Ooooh!" Addison slammed the lid on the washer and fisted her hands at her sides. "I do *not* like you right now!"

"Well, I don’t like you very much either!"

"Good. Then it won’t be a problem for you to STOP TALKING!"

Mark easily lifted her and set her on the washing machine. Wordlessly, he reached down and pulled her heels off, looking at the pointy toes that had left perfect circular bruises on his legs. "These? I’m throwing them away."

"Fuck you."

Smiling, he slid his hands under her skirt and chuckled when he found the garter belts that held her stockings up. "And these? Maybe these can stay." His fingers danced higher and he rubbed his thumb against the crotch of her panties. "But these? Gone."

She gasped when he easily ripped them. "Those were very expensive. And *lace*."

"I don’t care."

"No, you don’t, do you? As long as you come out looking like the manly man then who the fuck cares what -"

He leaned down, risking everything to kiss her. She turned her head so he latched onto her neck, chuckling when she pushed at him. The washing machine shook a little. He breathed against her ear. "We’re going to hit the wash cycle any second now."

"I’m not having sex with you."

"No?"

"No."

Two fingers skimmed along her cleft and dipped into her. When she bucked against those fingers, he looked shocked. "Your body is saying yes in so many ways."

"Get out of my way. I’m going to bed."

Instead of doing as she ordered, he pushed her skirt up over her thighs and massaged under the garters, flicking the clasps on both. He kept his eyes on hers as he unrolled one, then the other, stopping to massage her foot as he went. He saw her toes curl and kissed her ankle. "Do you still want to go to bed?"

She licked her lips when he nipped at her calf and moved upward. He didn’t have to pull her to the edge of the washing machine. She put her legs over his shoulders and pulled herself and when he lowered his head between her thighs ... the washing machine began to agitate. It shook beneath her backside and she gripped the edge as his tongue danced against her flesh.

Tugging his hair, she said, "Use your fingers."

Mark complied and gently worked two long fingers into her wet passage again. Addison closed her eyes and let him touch her in ways that only he ever could. He brought her to the edge several times and when she finally did come, he stayed there, still manipulating her center until she was incoherent. By then, the washer was spinning and the vibrations were killing her. She pushed herself upright, pressing herself against the lid and met his eyes. He was watching her closely, his hands still on his belt. Wordlessly, she lowered her hand between her legs and within moments, her second orgasm rocked through her.

When she heard his zipper lower, her eyes shot open and she hopped off the washing machine. Her legs were like jelly and she nearly stumbled headfirst into the hamper, but she held herself together. Breathlessly, still trembling, she said, "I told you I wasn’t having sex with you."

His eyes widened. "What did we just do?"

"If that was sex then you should be sated. Goodnight, Mark."

"Come back here! Addison!"

She was giggling when she wrapped herself in the comforter and settled down for the night.

Mark ... slept on the sofa.

*~*~*~*~

Callie slept fitfully, tossing and turning for most of the night. She finally crawled out of the bed at three in the morning and pulled her suitcase into the bathroom. She didn’t have to report to work until that afternoon and the pain medication she had been prescribed after her attack was somewhere in the bottom of her luggage. It was potent and would ensure that she slept through an uncomfortable breakfast and lunch with her family. She plowed through the clothing and was about to give up when she felt something hard in one of her pants pockets. Thinking she had located the bottle, she reached inside, but withdrew a long, thin, plastic case.

It was the disc that she had found in Xeno’s wallet.

The only thing her mother had not confiscated.

She gave up her search for the medication and crept back into the bedroom to retrieve her laptop. Alex was sleeping soundly, lightly snoring, when she locked herself in the bathroom to do a little research. The disc was small and for a moment, she worried that it wouldn’t fit in her laptop, but the hollowed out place in her CD-ROM was the perfect size. As she waited for the laptop to fire up, she closed her eyes, recalling the looks of shock on everyone’s faces when she told the truth about her alcoholism at AA. She truly had started drinking at twelve.

Cambyses had given her a Star Wars thermos that year and she kept it filled with whatever her parents had on hand in their wet bar. And when she went out on excursions with her father, the men always had something potent for her to sneak. They apparently needed help forgetting what they encountered as much as she did. She kept chewing gum on hand to mask the smell. Mouthwash and throat lozenges would do in a pinch. And no one ever suspected it, no one knew. They thought that the giggles after an encounter or the staggering toward bed at night was just a kid’s way of processing it all.

Callie knew that it had been a cry for help all along and her father had been too wrapped up in Talking Rock to hear it. Her eyes burned with tears when she realized that she really was *angry* with him. She was more than angry. Watching her mother cry herself to sleep the past few days and bonding with her over it had opened her eyes so wide that she could barely close them. She was no longer blinded to her father’s imperfections.

The laptop blazed to life and she ran the disc. As she suspected, it was encrypted. She sat in the floor, her back against the glass shower, and weighed her options. Letting it die with Xeno seemed like the right thing to do, but not knowing what was there would plague her for the rest of her life. Pulling up the start menu, she scrolled to an icon that was black and debated clicking it. She had learned a thing or two from her father and hacking into the back door of the CIA was second nature to her. She knew the code by heart.

And she could jam the signal this time.

She gazed at the screen, then clicked the icon, firing up the CIA portal that her father didn’t even know her laptop was equipped with. Within minutes, she had typed in the insanely long gibberish code and was tapping the keyboard impatiently as it loaded. The command to read the disc was met with a green screen that ran through numbers, letters, and symbols with intense speed.

It wasn’t fast enough.

"Callie?"

She jumped when Alex knocked on the door. "Just a second."

He tried the knob and she closed the computer, stowing it in her suitcase under her clothing. It would keep reading, she knew. The link to the CIA could only be broken if the computer was shut off. She got to her feet and opened the door, looking stricken for her husband’s benefit. "Do you know where the pain medicine is?"

Alex put a hand on her face. "You’re in pain?"

"No," she replied honestly. "I just can’t sleep."

He leaned down and kissed her. "I bet I could make you go to sleep?"

"How?"

"What *always* makes you go to sleep?"

"Sex."

"Well, that’s true. You’re a dude, but a good back massage usually does the trick, too."

"Sold."

In the end, the back massage led to an extensive make out session that was still going strong at dawn.

They both slept through breakfast *and* lunch.

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie found her father sitting on the bench near Fratelli’s grave with Chunk at his feet. She stood back to watch him rub the dog’s head and speak softly to him. The anger from the previous night began to abate and she bit her bottom lip. Saying nothing, she clicked her tongue and tossed a stick and the Mastiff took off after it with a wagging tail. She walked to the headstone and brushed dirt off it, then laid a flower there. When she looked up at her dad, she was not shocked to see that he had been crying. "I shouldn’t have told you that way. I’m sorry."

"You shouldn’t have needed to tell me at all. I should have seen it. I should have known."

Callie got to her feet and joined him on the bench, putting her hand in his. "The world is full of should have, Daddy. Hindsight is twenty twenty or whatever. You didn’t force me to go with you and you didn’t force me to drink, but it still sucks anyway."

"The situation forced you to drink. The world that I put you in did that, honey." He gripped her hand with both of his. "Can you forgive me?"

"I don’t need to. I’m not mad anymore."

"I failed you."

"We both failed." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I should have told you that I was petrified and you should have told Mom the truth all along. You broke her heart and I broke yours and all we have to show for it is blood on our hands."

"The blood is on my hands, Mija, not yours."

She lifted her hand. "Then why is that all I see?"

"Guilt."

"I deserve it."

"The day that we made the video about Talking Rock, the one we showed everyone in Greece, I thought I smelled it on your breath. I remember thinking that it wasn’t possible, that you wouldn’t do that, but you did. Didn’t you?"

"Almost every day."

"Even when we were at home?"

"Sometimes."

"Why?"

"Because whenever I closed my eyes ... I relived everything that we were doing. I saw demons and spirits and blood and horror, Dad. The alcohol made me sleep. I didn’t get drunk, but I took the edge off so that I could rest." Callie sat up and looked at him. "I’ve blamed the island and thought that it was the water there that made me what I am. I’ve blamed George for killing me inside. I’ve blamed Alex for leaving me. And the truth is ... I’m out of people to blame. It’s *my* fault and it’s time that I admit that."

"But I-"

"You always gave me a choice. Always. You said I could stay behind. You said I didn’t have to do it. You asked me again and again if it was too much for me and instead of admitting that it was ... I hid behind the bottle so you wouldn’t be disappointed in me." Her eyes filled with tears. "You know what I realized? Being disappointed in *myself* is about a million times worse. And I am. Disappointed."

He let his eyes wander over her face, then reached up and caught the tear that dropped onto her cheek. "I could never be disappointed in you. You and your brothers are the reason I was put here and I love you. I love you with all that I am."

"I know." Callie sniffled. "And that’s why I didn’t tell you. Because you loved me too much for me to hurt you that way. You wanted fearless and I gave you fearless, but it was a lie. I never want to lie again and I don’t want you to lie either. If we have to go down because of what happened with The Triad then let’s go down. Telling the truth will prevent it from happening again and maybe the CIA can stop it for real this time."

Raphael took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I’ll go to the CIA one condition."

"What?"

"I do it after Thanksgiving. And I do it alone. I will *not* bring you into it."

"But, Daddy-"

"That’s the only way I’ll do it."

She bit her bottom lip. "They could put you in prison."

"You think I’m not already there?"

"If we both went and told then maybe -"

"You know what I see when I look at *my* hands? Your blood. You almost died when you were ten because of me. You almost died the other day because of me. And the damage to your liver is because of *me*. So don’t ask me to let you sacrifice any more of yourself than you already have." He leaned against her and kissed her forehead. "I’ll ask for leniency and remind them that my record in the CIA was unblemished. If I ask for mercy, I may get it."

"You may *not*."

"My freedom is a small price to pay for yours." With a smile, he leaned down to retrieve the stick that Chunk had dropped at their feet. "It will work out, honey. It has to."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I swore before God that I would be with your mother until death and nothing short of that will make me break my vow."
CH 22

It's not over tonight
Just give me one more
Chance to make it right
I may not make it through
The night
I won't go home without you


*~*~*~*~*~

Callie was sore all over. She had lugged her very heavy laptop case to work to keep an eye on the disc's progress, but the real culprit was the very enthusiastic sex she had enjoyed twice that morning. Linen closets, she decided, not only smelled nice, but were very well equipped for acrobatic positions. What with all the racks and shelves. She rolled her shoulders and grimaced, adjusting the collar of her lab coat as she walked toward the elevator. It was blessedly empty when it arrived and as she stepped in, she heard someone call out for her to hold the door.

She did as requested and her eyes widened when her mother in law stepped into the lift.

Callie made herself busy, checking her pager. Irene cleared her throat and said, "Thank you for trying. It really means a lot to me that you -"

"Listen, I'm not doing this because I have a warm spot for you, Irene. I pretty much think you suck at life, but you are Alex's mother and that means something." Callie watched the numbers tick past, then reached forward and hit the emergency stop. "But you weren’t a very good mother and that falls under the sucking at life thing. You had a real chance with Alex and you should have cherished that."

"I do cherish that! I feel like hell over this entire thing!"

"Good. You should feel like hell." Callie lifted her chin defiantly. "I haven't forgotten what you did to my mom and I haven't forgotten the fact that you humiliated me in the cafeteria. And I won't let you off the hook for being glad that Fratelli was dead, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt. Once. If you screw up again, that's it. I'm not a bad person, but I can forget that you exist and not lose a wink of sleep over it."

"Should I be grateful?" Irene squared her shoulders. "You already won, Callie. Pat yourself on the back. My son hates me."

"I didn't win! You forfeited by acting like you were born four cells short of good sense! You did this! Should you be grateful? Yes, you should be! I don't have to encourage Alex to give you the time of day, but I have been!"

"I don't want to fight with you." Irene slumped against the wall. "I really don't. And I don’t know what it will take to make Alex come around."

"You know what? He shouldn't have to come around. This shouldn't have happened and he shouldn't have to choose between us."

"Well, he did choose. He chose wisely. I lost"

"We both lost." Callie crossed her arms over her chest. "I hate that this is what we’ve become."

"If it matters at all ... I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions or listened to anything Dr. Heron said about you. It was obvious she was angry about her demotion and blamed you for it."

"This sucks." Callie sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Alex loves you. I know he does, but you were right about the Karev temper. And the boy can hold a fierce grudge."

"Yes, I know."

"I don't hold grudges. I forgave my ex-husband and his mistress and I forgave my mother for shunning my twin so I'm over this thing with you. I'm done. I have better things to do than deal with this shit."

"So what do we do?"

"I have no idea."

"I could buy you dinner. Anything you want," Irene said, reaching out to touch her daughter in law's hand. "Do you think he'd come?"

"I can ask." Callie shrugged. "I don't like people as a rule. I just don't. But you had something to do with making Alex the man he is today so I owe you for that. And I really would like to have you in our lives. I mean, we're going to have a baby-"

"OH MY GOD!! YOU'RE PREGNANT!!!!"

"Not yet," Callie replied, chuckling. "But we decided not to wait. So we're going to start trying."

Irene impulsively hugged her, patting her on the back. "This is wonderful news!"

"I think so, too." Callie returned the embrace and started to say something more, but the elevator phone rang and she made a face. "Everyone else can stop these things for dramatic reasons and no one says a thing. *I* try to do it and I get the call of doom."

She answered the phone and assured security that everything was fine, then hit the stop button again. Both women were laughing when the doors opened to reveal Alex and Addison on the other side. Addison looked shocked and slightly embarrassed, having punched Irene very recently. The red head mumbled something about taking the stairs and hurried away. Alex, on the other hand, stood his ground.

Callie knew that the tightening of her husband's jaw and the sneer on his face was usually a prelude to all hell breaking loose so she said, "Alex, your mom invited us to dinner tonight. I told her we didn't have any plans."

"Yes, we do," Alex replied. "And I'm not interested."

"What plans do we have?" Callie countered.

"Shoe shopping."

"I told you we can do it after Thanksgiving." She turned and looked at Irene. "We're having Thanksgiving dinner at three, by the way. I hope you can come."

"Callie," Alex said through gritted teeth. "I don't want her there."

"Well, I do." Callie gave Irene a reassuring smile. "If you come early maybe you can teach me to make that peanut butter thing he likes so much."

Irene looked torn between staying and running. She swallowed and nodded, "I can do that. If- if you're sure."

"No." Alex glared at his wife before he turned to his mother. "You almost cost me my marriage. I went through hell and so did she. We have *never* fought the way we did and it was because of you so stay the fuck out of our lives." Turning his attention back to Callie, he added, "I know you mean well, but stop it. Just leave it alone before you piss me off."

Irene let the breath she was holding out when Alex walked away. "I don't think I'll be coming to dinner for Thanksgiving."

"Yes, you are and we'll meet you for dinner tonight as well."

"He won't come."

"Oh, he will."

********

"Why are sitting here in the dark?" Melana asked Cam, turning the bedroom light on. "Are you sick?"

"No." He was perched on the side of the bed, staring at nothing, but the look on his face suggested that his mind was on *everything*. "I’m not sick."

"Honey," she said, sitting next to him. "Whatever is upsetting you will work out. If it's you and Blake-"

"We're fine."

"Then why hasn't he called?"

"He calls my cell."

"The one that has had a dead battery since you got here?" She grinned when he looked at her. "You can't get anything past me."

"What if I did?"

"Did what?"

"Got something past you."

Melana studied his profile, taking in the bags under his eyes. "Then I would say that you don't take after me. Calliope told me that the two of you read my diaries."

He smiled a little. "Which is sorta why we didn't need the birds and bees talk."

"I was not that graphic!" She put an arm around him. "Sweetheart, there is nothing you can do to make any of us love you less."

"I got seven years of silence from you for announcing I was gay."

"I'd like to think I've grown as a person. Did I not accept your sister's divorce and let her wear white at the second wedding? Three years ago ... I wouldn’t have even bothered going."

"There is that."

"So, tell me what's wrong and I will fix it."

"You can't."

"Then there is something?"

"I love my family."

"My goodness, Cambyses, that's certainly cause to mope around the house and act put upon! I demand that you hate us at once!!"

He didn't smile. "Callie said that she wouldn't forgive Xeno for the things he did."

"Your sister marched right back up to his grave after we buried him. I followed her. I didn't hear what she said but she spoke to him until that horrid Nicky Niarchos showed up. Thank you for not loving a man like that. I know you thought you had a crush on him. I prefer Blake."

"What kind of man do you think Nicky is?"

"The horrible kind." Melana shook her head. "I think he used his Aunt Athena to get to Xeno. I don't believe Xeno would have behaved the way he did toward Raphael if that island and those people had not gotten to him. Your uncle loved this family, too. I don't doubt that."

"Dad could have died."

"Yes."

"He stabbed him."

"I was actually there for that, son."

"Does it matter much that he didn't succeed?"

Melana looked thoughtful. She didn't speak for several moments. When she did, her voice was low. "No. It doesn't matter, honey. The intent was there. He turned on me when he turned on my husband and even though I am currently not speaking to Raph, I know that we are two halves of a whole. His half just happens to be rotten at the core."

"I heard you two fighting. I heard him telling you about The Triad."

"He's full of secrets, lies, and shit."

Cam's brow lifted. "Dayum!'

"I've been living with Callie. I've picked up her bad habits." Mel shrugged, nonplussed. "Now, tell me what's on your mind."

"If Callie had gotten hurt when she was working at FMC with Dad, would you have forgiven him?"

"Callie did get hurt working for your father. She confessed last night that she started drinking at twelve because of that wonderful organization your father inducted her into."

"Oh my God! What!?"

"That, my dear, is why I am not speaking to him. Raphael was just as blinded by that island as Xeno was so I can forgive that he started FMC and lied to me for years like the arrogant asshole that he is, but Callie suffered for it and I won't forgive that. I can't."

"So, you'll divorce him?"

"And waste nearly forty five years of training him? I don't think so. Another woman will not benefit from the knowledge I gave him about-"

"Don't say sex!!"

"About women and what we need."

"Whew."

"This is like pulling teeth with you. Start talking or I will knock a few out."

Cam opened his mouth, then closed it and rubbed the stubble on his cheek instead. "Randall McFry's death gets to me still. I keep thinking that I should have gotten there quicker. If I hadn't left her there-"

"We all left her, kiddo. Every one if us."

"But I killed him."

"Don't you waste one second on worrying about that. He deserved to die." Melana got to her feet and held out her hand. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Shopping for Thanksgiving dinner."

"Ohhhh maaaan!"

"Keep on and you'll be pulling the turkey neck out of its ass."

Cam followed, dragging his feet for far more sinister reasons than killing Randall McFry.

********

Callie found Alex sitting in the stairwell. His expression was very similar to the one George O'Malley had worn in her presence in what felt like another life. George had sat in the same spot and let her know that he couldn't talk to her, didn't want her in his life. She had fled that time and she should have kept running, but at this moment, she had no desire to do anything except hold onto Alex with all she had. His body language was a big warning sign, but she took a deep breath and trudged up the stairs.

He watched her smile at a nurse who breezed past them, waiting until the woman was out of earshot before he said, "I can't believe you are willing to act like she didn't almost cost us everything. You know, you must be trying to get into that Opus Dei shit again because you’re acting like a damn saint."

"She’s your mother. You only get one."

"I think Mel has proven otherwise, Cal. She's the mother none of us had."

"Why does everyone think she's the second coming? Hello? She's *crazy* a lot of the time."

"How?"

Callie put her hands on her hips. "She just is."

"Has she always loved you?"

She nodded.

"Has she always put you first?"

Another nod.

"Has she ever abandoned you?"

This time, Callie shook her head.

"That makes her like the second coming and you don't value that. You take her for granted and the rest of us look to her for everything."

"How is this about me!?" Callie slumped onto the step beside him. "This is about you! You have to forgive her because she’s your family!"

"You’re my family."

"It’s not the same thing, Jock Strap, and you know that!"

"You don't forgive Xenos."

"Well, that's different as hell!"

"Not to me."

"Irene apologized to me. And she wants to do the same with you. If she screws up again then we can write her off."

Alex turned his head and glared at her. It was so intense that she looked away. "This *is* her second screw up for me. I did what you said and I let her into my life when I didn't really want to. I was the bigger person because she only hurt *me*. This time she hurt you and I will not and can not look the other way."

"If I can get over it-"

"Do not tell me to get over it!" His voice was raised, harsh. "I spent a lot of time listening to you whine about O'Malley picking his friends over you! You told me that he threw you out on your ass while you were dating him and that you couldn't handle being second in his life! Well, by god, I learned a thing or two from that and I told you I'd never treat you the way he did! I won't start now! I made my choice!"

"But you don't have to choose between us. Its not either or. And just for the record, I never gave George an ultimatum either so don’t make it seem like I did. I’m not that person!" She gritted her teeth against her own raised voice and quietly added, "Be a man and -"

"What did you just say to me?!"

"Be a man and pull up your big boy britches and -"

"Okay, now I’m pissed so I’m going to walk away before I say something that you will undoubtedly throw in my face later on." He got to his feet, but she grabbed his hand. "I said I’m walking away."

"I just think that -"

"Don’t think."

"Alex, life is a big puzzle and we have to all fit in there. It’s up to you to make sure your edges aren’t so damn rough that nothing goes with you. You make it hard to -"

He spun on the step and narrowed his eyes as he glared down at her. "God dammit, Callie, she comes breezing back into my life with a journal full of pretty words to explain away every fucked up thing she did to me and you want to say that *my* edges are rough? Her edges are a fucking blade! She’s cut me! She’s cut you! She insulted Melana and *your* heritage so don’t you *ever* tell me that I need to be a man! I am being a man! I am thinking of *my* family!"

With that, he stormed down the stairs and slammed out the door.

She sat there for a while, her head against the wall.

He hadn’t said anything hurtful.

But she had a sinking feeling that she had.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Will you please talk to me?"

Addison didn’t look up from the newspaper she was reading in the attending’s lounge. Instead, she pointedly licked her finger and flipped the page, scanning the classified as if there was something there to hold her interest. Mark took a sip of his coffee and set it down a few inches from her hand. That caught her attention and she glanced up at him with what could only be described as blind hatred. "You’re drinking coffee in front of me."

"And?"

"I can’t have caffeine."

"And?"

"You should stop drinking it, too."

Mark laughed. "Right. Because you want to be a single mother while I’m in prison for killing one of these annoying new grunts. Do you know what my intern did today? She -"

"I don’t want to hear it."

"Adidison, come *on*. This is so damn stupid. I don’t even remember why we’re fighting."

"Because you can’t keep your mouth shut!"

"If I kept my mouth *shut* then my tongue couldn’t come out and if memory serves, you enjoyed the hell out of my tongue last night."

"Pig."

"And?"

"Stop saying AND!"

"Then stop ignoring me." He gave her a cocky grin and leaned forward. "Let’s go to the on call room where I will show you all the benefits of having a pig for a husband. Make up sex is always so good."

"I’ll have sex with you when you can *truly* grasp what it’s like to be pregnant." Addison got to her feet and smiled down at him, taking off her glasses and putting them in her pocket. "I’m sure you’ll think of something, honey. Masturbation usually increases brain power."

Mark didn’t reply. Addison blew him a kiss and walked out of the room, humming cheerfully.

Twenty minutes later, he scrubbed into a reconstruction surgery with Yang and Stevens. They took one look at his face and gave one another a high five. He called them both something under his breath and walked to the table, where he asked for the scalpel. "I will put this in unmentionable places if either one of you harpies say *one* word to me."

"Dr. Sloan," Izzie chirped sweetly. "is Addy having morning sickness yet?"

"We’re not talking about Addison," Mark replied, trying to silence her with a glare.

"Really?" Cristina intoned. "Because I’m pretty sure that I heard a big, huge announcement yesterday that was an open invitation for *everyone* to talk about Addison."

"I heard it, too," Izzie agreed. "You know, hormones are really horrible for a women when she’s pregnant. It’s like, everything hurts your feelings. Especially when someone comments on your weight."

"I can only imagine it’s worse when the person who made you gain weight is the one who points it out." Cristina put a clamp in place. "I mean, men only enjoy the sex. The woman has nine months of sickness, swollen ankles, sore boobs, and enough weight to cause intensive back pain."

"And then the men bitch when you ask for a foot massage or a back rub." Izzie clucked her tongue. "I’d be willing to bet that any man who had to carry around fifty extra pounds would be in tears after *one* day."

"This is my operating room," Mark snapped. "And I’m telling you both to shut up."

"Ooooh," Izzie shivered. "What a manly man. Calling women fat, telling them to be docile and submissive and -"

"Knock it off!" Mark warned. "I mean it."

"Do you think you could do it, Sloan?" asked Yang, repositioning the clamp so he could access the incision better. "Haul that weight around?"

"You bet your demented ass I could. And I wouldn’t say a damn thing about it." Mark handed the scalpel to the scrub nurse and accepted another tool. "Women piss and moan about everything. A man knows how to suck it up."

"Oh, that’s good to hear." Izzie was grinning so big under her mask that it hurt. "Because there’s a pregnancy suit waiting on you outside the door. You know ... a fifty pound one."

The tool in Mark’s hand clattered the floor and he stared at her, dumbfounded. "Huh?"

"One week, Mark," Addison said suddenly, standing in the observation deck. When he met her eyes, she added, "Suck it up. Don’t piss and moan. And don’t say a damn thing about it."

"I am not wearing that thing!" he growled.

"Then I guess you’re fine with celibacy." Cristina said in a loud voice. "I’ve heard that Mrs. Palmer and her five daughters get a little boring after a while."

Izzie nodded. "Maybe he could add Playboy to the cable."

"He should," Addison said, still listening to the conversation intently. "Since he’s *not* a playboy anymore."

"But he is celibate," Yang said. "Sucks to be you, dude."

Mark glared up at the glass. "I’ll wear the damn thing on one condition!"

"Oh, do tell. The suspense is killing me," Addison shot back.

"I get to name the kids. Both of them." Mark cocked his head to one side. "Well?"

Addison crossed her arms over her chest. "Then you wear the suit for *two* weeks."

"Done!"

"You even sleep in it."

"Done!"

"And I’m *not* massaging *anything* until you give me fourteen days!"

"We’ll see about that!"

*~*~*~*~

Callie secured the fresh bandage on Finn’s amputated leg and pulled her gloves off, angrily tossing them into the trash. One missed its mark and landed in the floor. She swore under her breath and retrieved it, kicking the garbage can for good measure. Finn cleared his throat behind her and she looked at him. "Do you need something?"

"No." Finn shook his head. "I’m just curious. Are you trying to jar Oscar the Grouch out of the trash can or do you need to tell me I’m dying? Because something’s got you upset."

"You’re okay. Everything looks good."

"You don’t," Finn replied, watching her closely. His eyes had not left her the entire time she silently worked on him. "Don’t they usually get the nurse’s to do this type of thing? You know, bandage the invalids."

"Are you complaining? I happen to know that I look better than any nurse on staff."

"I’ll give you that," he grinned at her, wiggling his eyebrows. "But I bet their dispositions are much, much better."

She grimaced and slumped into the chair beside his bed. With her head in her hands, she groaned. "I’m sorry."

"I’m going to go out on my one remaining limb and say that you’re having a bad day."

"You have three limbs, Finn. Arms count."

"Tell me what happened."

"I’m not going to unload my personal problems on the man I recently maimed."

"You didn’t maim me."

"No, but I *could* have."

"Because you can be in two places at one time?"

"No, because the person who hit you was three times over the legal limit and I almost died last year from alcohol poisoning. I’m an alcoholic. There you go." Callie held her hands up in mock surrender. "So ... it could have been me."

He gazed into her eyes. "Do you make it a habit of driving drunk?"

"Not recently."

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"The board of directors is breathing down the Chief’s neck to make me commit to AA and sponsor this girl that I don’t like and there are issues with my father and my husband isn’t speaking to me ... and all I really want to do is drink. So, there you have it." She met his eyes, her arms crossed across her chest like an upset toddler. "And I can’t drink because I already messed up my liver and my pancreas and it will cost me everything I love. So, here I am. Rock. Hard place. I’m suffocating."

He regarded her quietly for a few moments. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. "Come here."

Callie pushed herself to her feet and walked to the bed. He patted it and she sat next to him not objecting when he took her hand. "I don’t mean to tell you all this stuff and -"

"I was married," Finn said, silencing her. "I loved my wife very much. She was my everything. And I lie about her sometimes."

"Lie?"

"I tell people that she died of cancer because it’s less embarrassing than the truth," he said. "She was an addict, too. I tried for years to help her and I failed. I found a clinic in Alaska that was making so many advances in rehabilitation. I went up there and toured it, made sure it was a good place, and when I came home and talked about it with her ... she left in a rage. Three hours later ... I got the call that she had wrapped her car around a telephone pole and died at the scene. There was a ton of stuff in here system."

"And you’re embarrassed because -"

"I failed her. It’s *my* fault."

Callie watched as Finn looked up at the ceiling. His blue eyes filled with tears and she found herself wondering if Alex would have the same reaction if it happened to her. Would he live his life blaming himself when it was her own demons all along. "No, it’s not. When you have an addiction ... that’s all that matters. Sometimes."

He glanced at her, wiping at his face with his free hand. "Have you been in any treatment programs?"

"No."

"Go, Callie. Find a place and let them help you. You can’t help yourself."

"I’m trying."

"Try by going to a professional. I’m serious."

"I go to AA. Well, sometimes."

"Sometimes won’t cut it. Give yourself thirty days at a place that knows what they’re doing."

"That’s a long time."

"Death is longer." Finn squeezed her hand. "I see the way you look at me. I know what you’re thinking. I won’t walk again."

"Finn-"

"It’s okay. I’m just glad to be here and if I have to roll around then at least I’ll get big arms. I’ve been told that they’re already pretty good for hugging."

"You were bringing me lunch when you were hit."

"I was."

"I’m sorry."

"Me too. That’s the best damn chicken salad in Seattle."

Saying nothing, she leaned down, her head resting against his shoulder. He hugged her and she said, "I’m sorry about your wife."

"I’m sorry about my wife, too." He patted her on the back and added, "You know ... liquor makes you ugly and if you want to remain the cutest employee here ... you need to stay away from it."

She chuckled. "I’ve never been called cute."

"What have you been called?"

"Nothing I’d care to repeat." She sat up again and grinned down at him. "Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little on the charming side?"

"Well, we’re even. I’ve never been called charming before."

"What have you been called?"

"Wonderful, compassionate, great in the sack and ... a really good listener. I’m here anytime."

"Yeah, you actually are. You’re in *traction*." Taking his hand again, she brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I’m here anytime, too. Rehabilitation will be rough, Finn."

"I usually rise for the occasion. In every way."

"Are you trying to flirt with me?"

"You’re smiling. It must be working."

"I guess so."

"My work is done."

"No, you can keep going."

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway.

Callie turned and looked at Alex, who was holding Finn’s chart. She bit her bottom lip, wondering how much he had heard. When he didn’t make eye contact with her, she figured he had heard enough. Getting to her feet, she listened to the questions that Alex asked Finn about his pain level. He did a cursory exam and made a few notes before saying, "Callie, can I talk to you outside?"

"Okay." She patted Finn on the arm and told him she’d see him later. In the hallway, Alex unlocked the wall panel that held patient files and medication, depositing the chart inside. "Is everything okay?"

"If a woman told me she was great in the sack and could rise for any occasion ... what would you do?"

"Ask her to prove that she had rising parts." Callie suggested. "And then point and mock her when she couldn’t do it."

"You’re a real comedian today." He slid his pen into his front pocket, still staring at her. "What would you do if you walked into a room and saw me practically on top of a woman?"

"Is she in traction?"

His jaw muscle flexed as he ignored her question. "What if I encouraged her to flirt with me by going along with it?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I’d probably pitch a tantrum and break her neck."

"Right. Having said that ... what should *I* do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Kick a crippled guy’s ass and call you a whore."

Callie glanced down at the floor. "Don’t."

"I’m not going to."

"You’re not?" She knew she looked as shocked as she felt.

"No, I’m not. But I’m not going to pretend like it’s okay, either. I don’t do that with other women, Gothika, and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t do it with Finn," he replied. "I don’t care if you feel sorry for him or responsible for him or if you get some kind of thrill from making his heart race ... don’t do it again."

She nodded, still baffled at the fact that he was keeping his temper so reigned in that she could barely detect it at all.

Alex cleared his throat and added, "I’m heading out early today."

"Why?"

"Because I need to go to the gym." He shrugged. "There’s a punching bag there with my name on it and -"

"My face?"

"Never." Reaching up, he touched her cheek. He seemed to look at every inch of her face before he pressed a soft kiss against her lips. "I’ll be home late."

"We’re meeting your mother at seven."

He sighed in exasperation. "Why are you doing this? Baby, things are fine for the first time in forever and -"

"I don’t want you to wake up ten years from now, or twenty, and resent me for this thing with your mother. I don’t want you to ever look back at this and think that you lost out on a relationship with her because of me. Because one day ... you’re not going to be mad anymore and that may be too late."

Alex dropped his hand as if her skin had scorched him. "You just can’t stop, can you? You have to keep pushing and pushing every single one of my buttons! Shut your mouth, stop trying to make me do something I have no intention of doing, and stay the fuck away from Finn or so help me God ... I’ll -"

"Leave?"

He took a step back and stared at her. "For some reason, you’ve been on my ass all day. I don’t know why you’re suddenly my mother’s best friend or what makes you think I will sit back and watch you make out with Stump in there, but I’ve had it. Get your shit together, Callie, or I will."

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked down the corridor.

He didn’t look back at her.

Even when she called his name.

*~*~*~*~

"Does this make me look fat?" Mark asked, turning from side to side. The pregnancy belly came complete with sagging breasts and realistic looking nipples. He tweaked those for good measure. "It’s like having an attached blow up doll."

Derek and Burke exchanged amused glances. Clearing his throat, Burke said, "You’ll need some bigger scrubs. I don’t think your shirt will fit over it."

Mark, who had stripped off naked to the waist in order to be strapped into the suit, rubbed the massive belly. "I make this look good."

"If emasculation looks good," Derek said, "you’re very beautiful."

Burke snorted. With his hands on his hips, Mark turned away from the mirror and glared at his friends. "I will kick both of your asses if you keep on."

Tilting his head, Burke looked him up and down. "That would be a lot scarier if you didn’t look like you were about to give birth to an elephant."

"The trunk is already hanging out," Mark replied, chuckling. He fondled the breasts and said, "Solid D cups. I’m stacked."

Derek said, "We’re all men here. We hear what you’re not saying."

"And what would that be?" Mark asked.

"That you’re already having contractions. And when you push," Derek said. "It’s your dick that falls out."

"Because your wife," Burke stated solemnly. "Won."

Getting to his feet, Derek held out a bag. "Meredith dropped off some bigger scrubs. They’re *salmon*. She said it was all she could find."

Burke belly laughed and slapped his foot against the floor. "That sound you heard? That was God dropping your man card like it was hot."

"It is hot," Mark groused, grabbing the bag and looking inside. "These are PINK!"

"Maybe you’re having a girl." Derek patted his arm and shrugged, "It’s only fourteen days, right?"

When Mark emerged twenty minutes later dressed in *salmon* scrubs, his belly preceded him into the hallway. The peals of laughter that greeted him came from every nurse, every doctor, every *female* anything that he had ever had sex with. Or flirted with. Or got within three feet of. His wife stood at the center, accepting the pats on her back. Camera phones were pointed at him from every angle and he crossed his arms over his chest, forcing one of the sagging breasts to come out the top of his scrub shirt.

He left when Cristina announced that she was going to pee her pants.

And Addison assured her that she already had.

*~*~*~*~*~

Instead of going home when her shift ended, Callie went into the on call room and opened her laptop, settling on one of the beds, her back against the wall. Alex had not answered any of the twenty phone calls she made. She apologized profusely on four of the messages and hung up on the rest. She chewed her bottom lip as she checked the progress of the disc and nearly bit through it when she saw that it was open and waiting for her to view the contents. Scrolling frantically through file after file, she chose one at random.

There, mapped out with precision and detail, were the plans for the cruise ship disasters. There were crude drawings that had been scanned in and she found herself holding her breath when she opened a file that showed a video re-enactment. It had gone precisely as The Triad, as her Uncle Xeno, wanted it to go. She watched as the cartoon cruise ship sailed up the west coast and exploded. She only had to watch it once for her stomach to turn and her palms to become so sweaty that they slipped against the keyboard.

For two hours, she read data files, correspondence between Xeno and someone called ‘The Commissioner, and future plans for attacks. She knew what she held in her hands. Leverage. If she went to the CIA first with the information, then Raphael would not have to confess to anything. She could simply say that she stumbled onto the disc after her uncle died. It wouldn’t be hard to transfer the data to a non-encrypted source.

The door opened suddenly, spilling light into the darkened room. Sydney Heron was framed in the doorway and she blinked twice when she saw Callie. "I didn’t know you were still here."

"Working late," Callie replied. When the other woman hovered there, she added, "Do you need something?"

"Yes."

Several seconds went by and neither spoke. Callie finally sighed and said, "What do you need?"

"I have liquor in my locker." Sydney walked in and shut the door behind her. In the dim light that spilled through the blinds, her cheeks glistened with tears. "And I don’t want it there."

"Then pour it out."

"You’re my sponsor. It says in the book that I’m supposed to talk to you."

Callie closed her computer and set it aside, scooting to the edge of the bed. "So talk."

"I sometimes wonder if I’m in the right place." Sydney leaned back against the door, her gaze on the far wall. "I worked hard to get here. I didn’t have rich parents or scholarships. I kept two jobs during college and I’m still paying off the loans. I wanted to help people, even though people have never been kind to me. I was optimistic. I was cheerful. I was affectionate. I was *happy*."

"And now?"

"I’m a pessimist. I want to spit at anyone who smiles. I think hugging is disgusting. And I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again."

"Why?"

Sydney came across the room and sat beside her. "I sometimes think that we create prisons for ourselves without meaning to. We build the bars with fear and regret. And we hide the valuable pieces of ourselves in the darkest corners so noone can see how vulnerable we really are. We lock ourselves up and if we’re lucky, someone finds the key and lets us out. And they make the world not quite so scary. Alex did that for you. I think I threw my key away."

Callie pondered the other woman’s words before she spoke. "Do you know what happens to a pet bird that gets out of its cage? It flies. It spreads its wings and it soars. And then it doesn’t know how to take care of itself after that because it relied on someone else to do it all the time. While you’re in that prison that you create ... you have to learn to look out for number one and not wait for anyone to find the key. You have the key and if you wait for someone to unlock the door ... then you may never know what it’s like to fly.

"Alex did come along and save me from myself, but I took something from him by making him do it. I forced him to find that key and stop me from self destructing. We do build prisons, but then we go crazy in them." Callie sighed. "Syd, do you know what your bars are now?"

"No."

"It’s alcohol. And the great thing about alcohol is that it’s not solid. You can walk through it. And if you’re down on your knees, you can crawl through it. And you can even swim through it and survive."

"I’d love to swim in an ocean of Scotch and drink it like a fish."

"Fish don’t drink."

"Mermaids do. I was The Little Mermaid for Halloween."

"Yes, I remember your fins." Callie took a deep breath. "The point that I’m making is that *I* want to drink, too. And I feel like I’m treading water in that ocean of Scotch and I can either drink it and go crazy or keep treading until I rescue myself. You’ll never be strong if you drink it. So, rescue yourself."

"How?"

"Find land." Callie pointed at the ground beneath their feet. "You walked in here tonight to stop drinking."

"Take my key."

"Sydney, did I not just tell you that *you* have the key?"

Reaching into her pocket, Sydney pulled out a lone silver key. "Literally, Callie. Take the key to my locker and get rid of it for me."

"I can’t fight this battle for you."

"Just this once," Sydney pleaded. "I’m going into a surgery in about fifteen minutes. If I know that it’s not there when I get out then I can find land. Okay?"

"All right! Fine." Callie accepted the key and slipped it into her own pocket. "Just this once! I mean it!"

Sydney got to her feet. "Thank you."

"This won’t be a habit."

"No. I have enough of those to deal with."

Callie watched her go and flopped back on the bed. The room was empty again and she looked heavenward. "You have a really, really have a bad sense of humor, God."

The laptop fan whirred to life beside her and she remembered what she had been doing to begin with. Sitting up, she cradled it on her legs again and resumed snooping. The sheer volume of data contained on the disc was overwhelming and she didn’t know if she could stomach looking at anything else, but curiosity eventually won out and she clicked on a folder entitled ‘Meetings’. It opened to reveal thumbnails of videos. She scrolled through them and paused at one that took place while she had been in Greece with her family.

Tapping her finger on the mouse, she debated whether or not to open it. Once again, she found herself bowing down to her need to *know* and she clicked it. Her Uncle Xeno’s voice filled the silent room.

"And all the plans are finalized?" He walked into the shot and sat down at a table that was occupied by three other men. She could see the faces of two of the men, but the third was facing away from the camera and only a small portion of his head was visible over the high backed chair he sat in.

One of the men spoke with a heavy Middle Eastern accent. "Yes. We have acquired the explosives. There will be enough C4 on the two ships to be seen from outer space."

Xenos nodded. "And have we received the passenger lists yet?"

"Yes," replied the chubby man who was facing the camera dead on. He was obviously French. "Raphael and Melana Torres are listed as passengers on the ship that will sail toward Alaska."

"And this should prove our loyalty to The Triad once and for all," Xeno stated calmly. "My sister has been good to me. I give you her blood to show you that mine is loyal to this organization."

"We accept," Aban replied with a nod.

"Where will it detonate?" Xenos asked, studied the papers that were lying on the table in front of him.

"Just off the coast of Washington," stated the Frenchman.

"Perfect," said the man in the chair. He turned slightly and smiled at Xeno. "That’s where Callie will be. If we’re lucky, my bitch of a sister will crushed to death in the rubble. The nosy slut."

"Your own twin, Cambyses?" Xeno chuckled. "I approve."

"Three birds with one stone, Uncle Zee. You always taught me never to waste a bullet."

"That’s why you’re The Commissioner," replied Aban. "You lead, we learn, and follow."

The video ended as abruptly as it had started.

Callie was paralyzed.

Her ears were ringing, the room was spinning, and she was sinking through the bed all at once. Pain in her hand briefly pulled her from the whirlwind and she glanced down. Her fist was so tight that her nails had dug into her palm. The half moon crescents there were welling with blood and she watched as it dripped onto the bed. Setting the laptop aside, she got to her feet and bent at the waist, emptying the contents of her stomach on the cold tile floor. Her shirt was sticking to her and rivulets of sweat ran down her forehead, causing her eyes to burn as it sank in.

She sank with it.

Down to her knees beside the puddle of bile in the floor she fell.

Eventually, the pain in her knees reminded her of the passing of time and she wondered briefly why she wasn’t crying, why she wasn’t screaming with the pain that rolled through her, but nothing really penetrated the fog. It wasn’t until her cell phone vibrated, then said something she never wanted to hear again. ‘Wonder Twin power, activate’, it trilled. Cam had bluetoothed it to her once upon a time and she knew that it was him on the other end of the line.

Getting to her feet was hard and she stumbled, the heaviness of what she had seen settling somewhere in her stomach and making it hard to breath. She gathered the laptop in her arms, hugging it to her chest briefly before she slipped it back into the carrying case. Once again, the cell phone rang and she looked at it. Picking it up would kill her, she decided.

Kill her.

Her hand went to the pocket of her pants and she felt the key to Sydney’s locker there.

She could already taste the relief of alcohol when she unlocked it five minutes later. There, sitting proudly on the shelf, was a huge bottle of bourbon. And a smaller bottle of Scotch. She slipped it into the laptop case and trudged from the hospital. She had to forget what she knew until she could work out what came next.

In her car, she turned the lid on the bottle and drank several gulps. It felt like fire all the way down and she relished it, welcomed the physical pain because it dulled the emotional. Just a little. She turned it up again, shot gunning half the bottle, then she slipped her key into the ignition and backed out of her spot.

The destination didn’t matter.

It was the ride that counted.

And she needed to outrun the agony before it ran over her.

*~*~*~

Addison sat at the table in Callie’s kitchen peeling potatoes. She heard a grunt from the living room and knew that Mark was getting to his feet again. It had only taken three times for him to realize that rising like normal wreaked havoc on your back when you were carrying frontal weight. The fourth time he got up, he had done the patented pregnant push, the belly going up first and then the rest of him. He walked into the kitchen and put his glass in the sink, bumping into the island, Melana, and the refrigerator as he worked his considerable girth around what suddenly felt like a maze.

"Would you mind taking the trash out?" Melana asked him sweetly.

He nodded at her and bent down to retrieve the bag, one hand on his lower back. The grunt came again when he picked up the bag and tied it. His eyes met Addison’s and he resolutely straightened, causing his bones to pop. Behind him, Melana said, "Goodness, Mark. You’re creaking like an old elm tree. I don’t even creak that badly and I’m *old*."

"You’re too beautiful to be old," he told her, grinning handsomely. "Age would never catch up with you, Mel, it would be too scared."

Melana eyed him up and down. "It speaks like a man, but it looks like a girl. I feel dirty all over."

Addison laughed. "It’s sad that he couldn’t find anything nice to fit him."

Mark looked down at his sweat pants, which were stretched to the point of no return, and baggy t-shirt. "What’s wrong with my clothes?"

"If you were really pregnant," Addy replied. "That would fit you today and probably not tomorrow. You know, you get *fat*."

"Enormous," Melana added. "And you’re only one day into it, Mark. You’re grunting like a pig in a slop house already."

"We established that he’s a pig," Addison said, dropping the potato peelings into the trash. "Yay! Potato salad!"

Melana walked over the survey the damage to the potatoes. It was minor. She took them to the sink to wash them off and glanced at her watch. "Where in the world are Callie and Alex?"

"I don’t know." Addison joined her at the sink, washing her hands when Mel carried the colander to the pot of boiling water on the stove. "I think she was only on a half day today."

"She’s got Chief Resident duty," Mark reminded them. "That takes a lot of time."

Chunk barked in the living room and Melana hurried through the doorway. Alex was hanging his jacket and she said, "Where’s Callie?"

"She’s not here?" Alex asked, glancing at the hook beside his coat where Callie always hung her own. He liked seeing it there, but it was empty. Pulling out his phone, he turned it on and gritted his teeth. She had called him several times. Wordlessly, he walked through the house and into their bedroom to listen to the messages she had left him. As far as apologies went, he thought with a smile, she really outdid herself.

Laughing, he dialed her number, ready to tell her that he was over it and couldn’t wait for her to get home. He frowned when Izzie answered the phone. "Where’s Callie?"

"I don’t know," Izzie replied. "I found her phone in the on call room. She’s the only person I know with a ‘Wonder Woman’ cover."

"Can you page her and see if she’s hanging around there? Call me back."

"You got it."

Alex walked to her closet, opening it just to make sure her clothing was inside. He felt a rush of relief when he saw that everything was there. Then he checked his own. Nothing was out of place and he turned in time to see Melana come into the room. "She hasn’t called?" he asked her.

"No." Mel watched him closely, taking in the way he ran a hand over his hair and the way he glanced nervously at the clock. "You’re worried. What happened?"

"We had a disagreement."

"Alex!"

"It wasn’t that bad, Mel. I just - I opened my mouth when I should have walked away."

Saying nothing, Melana headed down the hallway. Her own husband had been lying on the bed for most of the day. Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, "I thought you’d want to know that Calliope is missing. She was only supposed to work from two to six and it’s after ten."

Raphael sat up. "You’ve called her?"

"Cam has."

Slipping his feet into his shoes, Raphael padded across the room and retrieved his cell phone. He punched a number that was on speed dial and said, "Hello, Monta. I need you to locate Calliope’s car."

Mel sat down on the foot of the bed, wringing her hands. Alex poked his head in and she motioned for him to join her. When Raphael hung up, he took a deep breath. "She’s good."

"What did she do?"

"She’s jamming the signal on her car. We can’t track her." Raphael’s eyes landed on Alex. "What did you do?"

Alex shook his head, got to his feet, and went to his own room.

Where he flopped back on the bed with the same defeat that his father in law had worried with all day.

*~*~*~*~

The house was dark when Callie pulled to a stop in front of it. She didn’t bother with the garage. She climbed out of her car and staggered to the front door, carrying the bottle in her hand. Halfway up the stairs, she lost her footing and nearly fell off the side of the porch, but she grabbed the rail in the knick of time. She quietly let herself in the house and stalked down the hallway, pausing only to silence the alarm. Instead of going into her room, she went into the room Cambyses was using and shut the door behind her, turning the lock. For good measure, she put a chair under the doorknob to prevent anyone from coming in.

Her brother was lying on his back, his arms flung carelessly out in a parody of a crucifixion. She wondered briefly how someone who looked so angelic in his sleep, could harbor the devil under his skin. Infuriated, she slapped him, hard on the forehead. Then a second time for good measure.

He sat up instantly, fumbling with the covers that were tangled around his legs. "Jesus Christ, Callie! What the hell is wrong with you?"

She turned on the lamp and saw his eyes land on the bottle in her hand. He sprang from the bed so quickly that he did a face plant at her feet. He had not been successful in detangling himself from the sheets. "You *asshole*," she cried, drawing back to kick him.

He grabbed her foot mere inches from his ribs and grappled to his feet. "Callie! Give me that bottle! Right now!"

"Fuck you!" she yelled. "We’re going to play a game!"

"Give it to me!" He reached for the bottle and received a slap across the cheek that sounded like a whip cracking in the silence. Stunned, his hand went to it.

"We’re gonna play ‘Bullshit’. You remember how to play, right? Every time you lie, I take a drink. I ask the questions." She clutched the bottle like a lifeline. "True or false ... you know the definition of family."

"What are you doing?"

"TRUE OR FALSE!?" she screamed. There was a clattering of footsteps in the hallway, but she ignored it. "ANSWER ME!"

"TRUE!" he shouted back at her. "NOW GIVE ME THAT BOTTLE!"

"I call bullshit!" She turned it up and drank deeply, drawing her hand across her chin where some of the mouth full had leaked. "True or false," she continued. "You love me."

"True. Callie, you know that’s true. What the hell happened?"

"I call bullshit!" She took another drink, gasping. "True or false," she said again, her eyes glassy. "You know all about The Triad."

"True. I know what you and Dad have told me."

The glass in her eyes fell like broken shards onto her cheeks. Her tears felt as icy as her soul. "You lying bastard. You would stand there and lie to my face!? You were in it up to your eyeballs!"

Cam took a step back, clearly stunned. "What do you know?"

"WHAT DO I KNOW!?" Callie shrieked. "I KNOW THAT YOU ANSWER TO ‘COMMISSIONER! I KNOW THAT YOU WANTED MOM AND DAD ON THAT CRUISE SHIP! I KNOW THAT YOU WANTED ME UNDER THE RUBBLE! AND I KNOW THAT I HATE YOU!"

Someone was slamming on the door, trying to force it open. Cambyses started to move toward it, but she intercepted him. "How could you do this, Cam? How?"

"You don’t know as much as you think you know. When you’re not drunk, when you can understand me, I will tell you what happened."

"You got your wish," she said and now her voice was hoarse with wrenching sobs. "Look at me close, Cam. I’m buried. You killed everything in me. You wanted them dead! You wanted *me* dead! *Me*! Why? Tell me why!"

"I will!"

Once again, he reached for the bottle, but she flinched away from him and drained it. When it was empty, she tossed it against the wall, where it shattered. She stared at it for a few seconds, ignoring Alex’s shouts outside the door. "I came in here when you killed Randall McFry and I held onto you when you cried, but you didn’t mean it. He was just one of ... how many, Cam? Thousands? Do you keep count? You are the most repulsive human being alive."

Cam didn’t flinch when she slapped him again. And then a third time. The fourth time found her losing her balance and he caught her before she could fall. She fought him like a tiger, clawing and scratching as he backed toward the door. He kicked the chair out from under the knob and Alex kicked it in. Cam didn’t release his hold on her because he knew that when he did ... it could very easily be the last time he would touch her.

"Callie!" Alex grabbed at her hands, trying to stop her from bringing blood on Cam’s arms. "Stop!"

"He tried to kill them! He killed those people on the ships! He wanted *me* dead!" Callie cried. She sent her head flying backwards, butting Cam in the face and he let her go, howling in pain.

Callie launched herself at Cam again and set about tugging his hair, trying to pummel his head. Alex gripped her under the arms and pulled her off him. When she tried to go at Cam again ... Alex shoved her. Hard. She landed on her backside and *that* jarred her out of her stupor. Raphael and Melana had both been paralyzed with shock, unable to believe anything they had seen. Or heard. But Callie’s gasp and look of disbelief was enough to snap them firmly into the present.

Alex was already beside her, apologizing profusely when Cam picked him up by his pajama bottoms and said, "YOU HURT HER!" as he tossed him like he was a rag doll.

Alex sailed over the bed and into the floor on the other side, thumping the wall. He shot to his feet instantly and looked at Callie, who was still sitting on the floor. "I'm so sorry, Cal-"

"DO NOT TALK TO HER!" Cam shouted. "YOU FUCKING ABUSER!"

Callie crawled to her feet and kicked her brother in the thigh, giving him a charlie horse. "MURDERER!"

"STOP THIS MADNESS IMMEDIATELY!" Melana screamed suddenly. The walls seemed to tremble from the force of it. "NO ONE MOVE A MUSCLE!"

Raphael took off his pajama shirt and held it out to Cambyses. "Your nose is bleeding, son."

Cam accepted the shirt, looking at Callie over it as he wadded it under his nose. "She’s drunk."

Callie leaned down and picked up her purse, pulling out the bottle of Scotch. "Not yet, but give me time."

Alex pushed Raphael out of the way and put his hands on hers. She was fumbling to twist the lid off and when she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes filled with tears again. "I’m sorry."

"Apologize by not drinking that," he said softly.

"I need it," she sobbed. "Please, Alex. Just give me this one. Please."

"No, Callie." He brushed her hair off her cheek, where it was sticking to her tears. He pulled the bottle from her grasp and handed it to Melana. "This isn’t what you need, Gothika."

"I can’t - I can’t breathe without it. It hurts. God, it hurts." Her eyes found Cam’s. "You destroyed *everything*. We will never be the same. You - you *gutted* me."

She was crying so hard that her words were hard to understand, but Cam did. He took a deep breath and said, "There was no one on those cruise ships. The Triad thinks that they were full, but the CIA was in on the entire thing. They fed the media what they needed to report and they swore that they had the area secure before it ever detonated. I didn’t know that you were out on Goon Docks or I would have risked the entire mission to stop it. I would have blown my cover and ruined *years* of work just to keep you safe."

Raphael took a step back. "What did you do? CAMBYSES, WHAT DID YOU DO!?"

"ANSWER YOUR FATHER!" Melana snapped, when her son simply stared at Callie. "NOW!"

Cam absently rubbed the ring that Callie had given him for their birthday. With his eyes still locked on his twin’s, he said, "I did what I had to do to keep my family safe. The CIA asked me to go undercover and I did it. I got Xeno to trust me, I worked through The Triad’s ranks, and I kept a finger on their pulse so that all of you would still have one."

Melana started to cry. "I never should have stayed married to a man in the CIA. Raphael, they did this to him because of you!"

"If you had not stayed married to me then our kids wouldn’t be here!" Raphael shouted.

"You’re right, Mom," Callie said softly, the fight burned out of her. "You shouldn’t have stayed with him. I don’t want to be here at all!"
CH 23
Dedicated: To aclairec <http://aclairec.livejournal.com/> because she is love. And _nigella_ <http://users.livejournal.com/_nigella_/> because she is, too. And, as ever, tv_junkie118 <http://tv-junkie118.livejournal.com/> and nycbadgirl <http://nycbadgirl.livejournal.com/> who tolerate my madness well. :)

*~*~*~*~

Alex took Callie into the bathroom, where he wet a cloth and washed her face. She had gone from cage fighter to catatonic in zero to sixty. As he wiped her cheeks, she met his eyes and he looked away. He had shoved her to the ground and whether she was too drunk to remember it or not didn’t matter. He knew that he would never forget it. She sighed and he smelled the alcohol on her breath. It snapped him to attention and he said, "How much did you drink?"

Her response was to rush past him and vomit a steady stream of liquid into the toilet. He gathered her long, black hair in his hands, holding it away from her face. She eventually kneeled down in front of the commode when the worst of it hit and he squatted down beside her, wiping her mouth every time he got the chance. It seemed to go on for hours and he rubbed her back, talking softly to her while he waited for the storm to pass.

He looked up when Melana walked into the bathroom. She carried a fresh wash cloth, which she wet and laid on the back of Callie’s neck. In that moment, he thought, Melana looked old, exhausted, and heartsick. Her face was ashen and her eyes were puffy from the breakdown she had obviously indulged in. "She’s okay," he assured Mel. "I’ve got her if you want to -"

"If I want to what? Go and listen to yet another version of how Raphael has destroyed my children?" Glancing down at Callie, Mel sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "She drove like this, Alex."

"I know."

"She could have -"

"I *know*." He watched as another bout of nausea wracked through his wife. When it finally subsided, he wiped her mouth again and touched her cheek. "Cal, do you think you can sleep now?"

"No," she replied softly, her words slurred. "That bastard may slit my throat the second I close my eyes."

"I’ll stay awake," he assured her. "You need to rest, baby."

"Get my laptop and give it to Daddy. It’s in the car. He has to see it."

Alex helped her to her feet and hugged her, clinging to her. After a few moments, he led her to the sink where she rinsed her mouth. Turning, she looked at Melana and said, "He knew Xeno was bad. And that cruise ship is the one that you were supposed to be on. The married couples one."

Melana put a hand over her mouth. "Are you sure?"

Callie nodded. "Why do you think I did this? There’s video of it, Mom! It’s on my computer!"

"It’s okay, sweetheart," Mel soothed. "Don’t get yourself worked up again. You’ll just make yourself sicker. We’ll handle it.".

Ten minutes later, Callie was sleeping soundly, exhaustion still evident on her face. Alex sat beside her long after Melana had left the bedroom. He traced the puffy bags under her eyes and the mascara that had smeared onto her temple. His hand was trembling when he laid it against her heart, just to feel it beat. The dream that he’d had on Goon Docks was so fresh in his mind in that moment that he didn’t know if he would ever get it out of his head. Leaning down, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "I love you. And I’m not going anywhere."

*~*~*~*~

Raphael closed the phone and turned to look at Cambyses. His son was sitting on the couch with an ice pack on his face and he shifted under his father’s intense scrutiny. Seconds felt like hours and when Raphael finally spoke, he simply said, "They confirmed your story."

Cam lowered the ice pack and nodded, flinching because the scratches on the back of his neck felt like blades on his skin. "Did you think they wouldn’t?"

"I don’t really know what to think!" Raph snapped. "Your mother and I begged you not to pursue a career in the CIA. We pleaded with you, we threatened you, and you said that you were not going to do it! You gave us your word, Cambyses, so what the hell happened?!"

"The same thing that happened to you! They came and talked to me and made me feel like I owed it to this country to help! They told me that The Triad was gearing up again and that you weren’t interested in working the case anymore!"

"BUT WHY YOU!?"

"Because our family has been ass deep in this shit for longer than *you* have been alive." Cam looked him dead in the eye. "And because Callie wasn’t available. They wanted her to be the one to infiltrate The Triad. They thought it would be easier for her to win their trust because she was just a young girl. When you refused to let her participate and recruited her into FMC ... they thought I was the next best thing. They knew that Callie and I both had a strong bond with Uncle Xenos and *he* was calling the shots at The Triad."

Melana came out of the kitchen holding a cup of coffee in her hands. She looked at Cam as if she had to convince herself not to throw it in his face. "You knew that Xeno was working against our family for *years* and you didn’t think that we needed to know that?"

"I couldn’t tell you, Mom!" Cam cried. "We’re trained to say *nothing*. And if I had told you then I would have gotten you all killed. I was undercover! Far undercover!"

"Being forewarned is forearmed!" Melana shouted. "If you didn’t want to tell your father and me, then you should have at least told Calliope the truth! Do you see what you’ve done!?"

"I only wanted to help," Cam replied. "You don’t know what it’s like. Dad, tell her what they do to you!"

"You tell her!" Raphael threw his phone onto the sofa. "I’m going to check on Callie."

Alex came out of the hallway, stopping him. "She’s sleeping. Leave her alone."

"Should we take her to this hospital? They need to check her liver enzymes, don’t they?" Cam asked quietly.

"We?" Alex shook his head. "No, Cambyses, *we* shouldn’t do anything. *You* should get the hell out of this house. You -"

Cam shot to his feet. "*You* knocked her on her ass!"

"I may have knocked her on her ass, but you knocked the will to live out of her!" Alex stalked forward and Cam came around the table to meet him head on.

It was Melana who moved between them. "Hasn’t there been enough fighting and destruction and hurt for *one* day? Both of you sit down!"

Alex didn’t move until Cam surrendered and sat back down on the sofa. Melana pointed at the recliner in the corner and Alex complied, still glaring at Cam as he took a seat. "Now," she said, "this is what we’re going to do ... Cam is going to start talking and he is going to tell us every vivid detail of what the hell happened and no one, NO ONE, better interrupt him." She turned her attention to her son. "Start talking!"

"Where do you want me to start?" he asked.

"The beginning is always good." Mel flopped down on the other end of the sofa. "Spill it!"

Cam stared down at his hands, which bore the marks that Callie had left there. He traced his fingertips over the most severe and said, "I flunked out of college after two semesters. You guys didn’t know that because the CIA stepped in and promised that you wouldn’t have to know. Actually ... Blake stepped in. He was my recruiter and I - I think that I would have followed him to the ends of the earth if he asked me to. He was undercover with me. Xeno hired him as our butler and didn’t bat an eye at our relationship. It just - worked out."

"You had your cake and could eat it, too. Is that what you’re saying?" Mel asked.

"Only if I wanted to be crude," Cam replied, then thought better of being confrontational because the look Melana shot him would have caused the entire CIA to back off in surrender. "Anytime you called me at college ... it was forwarded to a different line so you never knew that I wasn’t really there. I trained for nine months and that’s when I called you guys and said that I wanted to go work at Karakas Enterprises in Greece. Xeno and I became really close which is what I was supposed to do and - and I also dogged this family into the ground so he would think that I had the same views he did.

"He told me about FMC and showed me what had gone on with it and how Callie was the golden child who was loved more than me because she was a girl. And when he offered to let me join The Triad, I went right along with it and he thought I was his perfect little cohort. I played my part very, very well. After nine eleven, I think it got to Xeno. That was *real*. He started to groom me to take over and that’s what I did." Cam looked at Raphael. "The CIA tried to stop nine eleven. We had the information that it was going to happen, but bin Laden changed the date and didn’t notify The Triad. We were preparing for an October attack. It was horrible. We were duped."

Melana, who had her arms crossed so tightly that it should have cut off circulation, turned and glared at him. "And it never crossed your mind to get the hell out of that?"

"Mom, you don’t know the things that we were able to prevent! When Xeno was running it, he wanted to do everything in his power to kill Dad and *I* kept saying no. I kept saying that it would make Callie suspicious because she knew so much. So he was going to kill both of them and I stopped it. I kept coming up with reason after reason and I finally told him that I didn’t want to do that to you. He trusted my judgment on it and backed off."

"Your judgment almost got your sister killed anyway! She could have died on the yacht the other day! And she could have died tonight, Cambyses! She drove here from God knows where completely intoxicated! Was it worth it!?" Mel cried.

Cam didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Alex stood suddenly and headed for the front door, prompting Melana to hurry after him. "Where are you going? Alex, where are you going!? You can’t leave her. You - you can’t. She needs you and -"

"She asked us to get her laptop, Mel." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I’ll be right back."

Outside, the sun was rising and the air was crisp and cold. Alex was wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top, his feet bare. The chill didn’t matter when he saw that her car door was wide open and there was a large scratch down the passenger side of the Mercedes. He squatted down beside it, running his hand over the deep crevice that had obviously been left by a guard rail. If it hadn’t been there ...

He shook himself back to the present and walked around to the driver’s side, reaching into the back seat for the laptop. The smell of her perfume was all over the place and he felt something move in his chest. He sat down in the driver’s seat, leaning his head against the wheel as the reality began to sink in. Callie was going to experience a hurt like she had never experienced in her life when she woke up. She would be disappointed with Cam, but when she realized what *she* had done ... it would horrify her.

As he let his tears wash some of the tension away, Alex prayed for the strength to help her through it. He made a vow to himself to be there every step of the way.

Whether she wanted him or not.

When he regained control of himself, he reached into the backseat and pulled her laptop out of the case. It was hibernating and when he opened it, the media player was up. He took a deep breath and pressed play.

When he got to the end of the video and actually witnessed what Callie had witnessed ... he understood.

Tucking the computer under his arm, he jumped out of the car, slammed the door and stormed back into the house. Cam was on his feet, standing in front of the fireplace when Alex’s fist connected with his jaw. Raphael separated them before Cam could reciprocate. "Stop it!"

Alex opened the laptop and pressed play again. The same video began and Melana, who had jumped to her feet after the fight, sat down as if she had been punched in the gut. She covered her face, then her ears, as if she couldn’t bear to experience it at all. When it finally ended ... all eyes fell on Cam.

Callie’s twin was staring at the video in shock. "Where did she get that?"

"DOES IT MATTER!?" Alex shouted. "YOU SON OF A -"

Cam snatched the laptop from his grip and stared at it, fumbling with the disc drive. His hands were shaking badly when it finally opened. "Oh my god."

"Call on someone you know, asshole!" Alex growled.

Lifting the disc, Cam stared at it as if he had never seen anything more grand. "It’s finally over," he said softly. "This is the final piece to the puzzle. We - we can end it now."

"End what?" Melana demanded.

"The Triad. This is what I’ve been looking for all along."

*~*~*~*

The alarm screamed to life and Mark opened one eye, staring at the green numbers. The clock was lying. It had to be. He was flat on his back and the belly he wore felt heavier than a herd of elephants as he tried to roll over and silence the beeping. It took him three tries and Addison’s hands on his shoulder pushing before he could reach it. The movement stretched every muscle in his body to the point of pain and he groaned, falling against the pillow in exhaustion.

"How did you sleep?" Addison asked cheerfully.

She was not a morning person and Mark narrowed his eyes at her. "Fine."

"Hmm. All that tossing and turning you did would suggest otherwise."

"Bite me."

"Sorry. I’m trained to not find pregnant women attractive." She smiled and tossed the cover back, hopping from the bed with far too much enthusiasm. "Don’t you have two surgeries today?"

His eyes were still slits as he watched her pull a robe over her naked body.

She continued, undaunted. "I’m just thinking that maybe you should wear something more comfortable than your Nikes. I mean, you need the support. I always recommend support hose to manage the swelling in the ankles. If you want ... I could get you some."

"You’re so kind."

Leaning over, she kissed him on the forehead. With her eyes on his, she said, "Of course I am. It’s my job to be supportive, right? And it’s only thirteen and a half more days."

"And a half!?"

"You didn’t put it on yesterday until after lunch." She gave his arm a light pat and said, "I have to take a shower. Why don’t you go make us some toast or something."

"Me? Make breakfast?"

"You *are* the little woman, honey."

He swore profusely when she blew him a kiss and disappeared into the bathroom. He grunted as he pushed himself upright and wondered if his lungs would ever inflate all the way again. He felt *crushed*. As he stumbled to his feet, he had to struggle to stand upright. Both hands went to his lower back as tried to stretch his aching body. It was no use. He staggered to the kitchen, wearing only his boxers, and tried to find the bread. The stomach hit everything on the way. He underestimated the distance between himself and the sink as he tried to fill the coffee pot and he hit himself with the pantry door, causing him to stub his toe on the island.

By the time the coffee finally began to brew, his little toe was turning purple and he was no closer to finding the bread than when he started. He did find oatmeal, however, and poured half of the box into a boiler. He opened the refrigerator in search of milk and groaned. There was only chocolate and the date was four days gone. He twisted the lid off and nodded. It smelled normal. He poured it over the oats and turned the stove on, waiting for it to boil.

The coffee percolated slowly and he put his face close to it, breathing it in as if the fumes could somehow cure all that ailed him. He was still inhaling the heavenly aroma when Addison strolled into the kitchen dressed in a pencil skirt. The clicking of her heels caught his attention and he turned to enjoy the sight of her calves in her four inch stilettos. "You look very, very good," he said, stepping toward her.

She sidestepped and unplugged the coffee pot. She took what had already brewed and poured it down the kitchen sink, ignoring his gasps and protests. When she turned to the stove and looked at the lumpy, vomitus mass that was in the pan, she felt her stomach lurch and quickly pulled out the garbage can, heaving the water she had hoped would settle her stomach into the trash. She was still bent at the waist when he put his hand on her back. Brushing him off, she threw up again, then turned to the sink, splashing her face with cool water.

He handed her a cup of cool water and she rinsed her mouth, then spit. "What the hell is that?"

"What the hell is what?"

"In the pan!"

"Oh! Oatmeal. Do you think you can eat it?"

"Look at it!"

He did as requested and wrinkled his nose. "It’s a little lumpy."

"Why is dark *brown*?"

"Oatmeal is supposed to be brown."

"No, it’s khaki."

"I prefer taupe."

"I prefer fuck you."

Mark put his hands on his hips. "Do you want a cracker? It may settle your stomach."

"No, Mark. Polly doesn’t want a *cracker*. I want *you* to go get ready for work so we’re not late!" She turned and picked up the pan, dumping the steaming contents into the sink. When he started to speak, she pointedly turned on the garbage disposal to drown out his words.

It took him forty minutes to get the belly off, take a shower, and then convince himself to put it back on. Addison’s persistent knocking had pulled him off his seat on the toilet to continue dressing. When he opened the door and asked her to help strap him in, he could see that she had been crying. "Addison-"

"Just - don’t."

"What’s wrong?"

"My stomach is killing me. I’m dizzy. I’m in the middle of a personal vacation in hell with this hot flash, and it just makes a lot of sense to cry!" She pulled the buckles into place and fastened them, then pointed at the bed. "I guess you’ll have to wear the salmon scrubs again. Meredith found you six pairs."

"I’m sure she did." Mark eyed the clothing with so much hatred that they should have caught fire. "Are you sure you don’t want something light to settle your stomach?"

"The only thing I’m sure of is that when I actually give birth ... I better not get kids with stupid ass names for my efforts!"

When she slammed out the door, he flinched.

And decided not to grumble about the scrubs.

They were getting into the car, twenty minutes past their usual time, when a helicopter flew low over their house. It was black and nondescript, the bottom almost skimming the tree tops. Addy shielded her eyes against the sun and watched it circle the cove and then disappear below the tree line. "That just landed at Callie’s house!"

"Should we go see -"

"DUH!" Addison replied, yanking the car door open.

It took Mark a full five minutes to get his legs to reach the gas and his stomach to *not* rub the wheel. By the time they pulled up at Callie’s house, the chopper was lifting up over the back of the house and heading back the way it had come. Addison watched it fly over their car, then turned her attention back to the front yard. "The gate wasn’t closed. Why wasn’t the gate closed?"

Mark shook his head, pulling the car to a stop beside Callie’s Mercedes. "The bigger question is what the hell did she hit?"

With a gasp, Addison surveyed the damage and rushed from the car, bounding up the front steps. She didn’t bother knocking and as soon as she crossed the threshold, she heard Melana’s sobs. Hurrying forward, she looked from Mel, to Alex. He was cradling his mother in law in his arms and she was crying as if the world had come to an end. "What happened?"

Alex took a deep breath. Mark waddled into the room and Alex gave the abbreviated version of the morning’s events, carefully leaving out the part about Callie. He ended the tale by saying, "Raphael is going to Virginia with Cam. I think he wants to tell them in person exactly what he thinks of how they recruited Cam."

Melana had moved to the sofa in the middle of the story and Addison sat next to her, one arm around her shoulders. For such a formidable presence, Addison thought, Melana felt frail and soft in her arms. Mark ran a hand over his face and said, "What happened to Callie’s car?"


"What do you mean?" Mel’s head shot up. "What’s wrong with it?"


When Alex answered, his voice was calm. "It looks like she bounced off a guard rail. The passenger side of her car is pretty demolished." He made eye contact with Addison and added, "She’s the one who found out about Cam and ... she got drunk."


Addison’s hand flew to her mouth. "She didn’t drive -"


"She did," Melana replied, resting her forehead in her palm. "I’ve never seen her like that. She was crazy, enraged. I think she would have killed him with her bare hands if we hadn’t stopped it."


"She attacked Cam?" Mark asked, clearly stunned. "Jesus."


"Where is she?" Addison inquired in a low voice. "Was she admitted into the hospital to watch her liver?"


"No." Alex nodded down the hallway. "She’s sleeping it off."


"Sleeping it off!?" Mark demanded. "I was the one who treated her for cholestasis! I’m the one who found the scarring on her liver and drained enough fluid out of her body to kill her! I’m the one who had to put in a feeding tube and pray that it would give her enough nourishment to get her through the night! Have you lost your mind? She needs to be checked out, Alex! Alcoholic pancreatitis-"


"She is already going to be devastated by what she did," Alex told him. "I can’t take her to the hospital and have her deal with that humiliation on top of everything else. She threw up several times and I have checked on her every thirty minutes like clockwork."


Addison flipped open her phone and dialed a number. "Hey, Cristina. Listen, have you left your house yet? No? Does Burke still have his medical bag from Mercy West? Yeah? Can you get it and come to Callie’s? No, nothing’s wrong. Just ... hurry."


"What are you doing?" Melana queried. "What’s in his medical bag?"


"When Burke was at Mercy West he did a lot of air rescue work. They have a slightly better trauma center than Seattle Grace. He’ll have what we need to draw some blood and Cristina can take it in and have it tested."


They didn’t have to wait long for Cristina and Burke to arrive. She wrapped on the door twice before she shoved it open. Burke came in behind her, carrying a large black satchel. He climbed the steps and said, "Does this have something to do with Callie’s car?"


Alex nodded.


Burke held out the bag and said, "Take what you need."


Callie slept straight through the drawing of four vials of blood. She was face down on the bed, one arm hanging over the side. That’s the arm that Mark drew from and for good measure, he checked her blood pressure, her pulse and rolled her over to check her eyes for the tell tale signs of jaundice. There was nothing there to indicate anything was amiss, however, so he situated her onto her side in case she vomited and pulled the cover up over her shoulders. He was alone with Alex and he cleared his throat. "She told Addison you had made it very clear that you would divorce her if she drank again."


Alex pushed Callie’s bangs off her forehead. "She’s going to make a liar out of me."


"Then you’re not -"


"No." He moved his thumb over her cheek. "She earned this one. The way she found out about Cam - she earned it. And I can’t hold that against her. She broke a promise to me, Mark, but I broke one, too. I didn’t hit her, but so help me God ... for a split second I wanted to. I settled for shoving her instead and she fell. And when she looked at me ... she knew what had almost happened. She knew. I could see it on her face."


"Whatever prevented you from hitting her, you need to hold on to that with both hands because this is not the only time something like this will happen and if you go there ... it changes everything. And if you go there ... it will be the last mistake you make because after Melana finishes picking her teeth with your bones ... it’ll be my turn." Mark gathered the vials of blood and added, "Look at me. I may not look imposing because I have tits, but I’m not kidding. You need to get into anger management and she needs to go to rehab because neither one of you can help the other when you’re like this."


Alex lingered by her side long after Mark had stalked out the room.


The truth of the other man’s words resonated in his mind the entire time he watched Callie sleep.


*~*~*~*~*~


The Angry Woman Club was no longer angry. They were the Devastated Woman Club. Addison, leaving out many of the juicier details about Cam’s past, simply told them that something happened between Callie and Cam that was bad enough to make her drink again. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the room as they processed it all. The wood grain of the table seemed to mesmerize each of them because they were staring at it as if it held all the answers. It was Cristina who spoke first. She lifted her chin and said, "Callie told me that there was an issue with the Board about her attendance."


"She doesn’t have any surgeries," Izzie offered. "And Webber isn’t here today. So ... no one has to know. I mean, she’s filling in for Bailey and she’s keeping track of attendance herself."


Addison nodded. "Send anyone with any problems to me. But tell anyone who asks that she’s here somewhere. Got it?"


They all nodded, then jumped when the door opened. Mark held up a piece of paper and said, "I don’t know how many miracles this woman has left, but her enzymes are fine. Her blood alcohol level is well below the legal limit, too."


Cristina breathed a sigh of relief. "I’m on a thirty hour shift. I’ll take my dinner break and drive out there tonight to do another panel."


"That’s a good idea," Izzie said. "Sometimes it won’t show up right away."


"Did you call Alex?" Meredith asked Mark. "He must be worried sick."


"I did." Mark nodded. "He’s hanging in there."


Eros waved to Izzie from the window and she got to her feet, heading into the hallway. "Hey," she said. "What’s up?"


He glanced back through the glass. "I wanted to come and tell you goodbye in person. I have to go somewhere for a few days. I’ll be back in about a week. Maybe two."


"Is something wrong with your family?" She put a hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"


"I’m fine and my family is as well. I - I can’t tell you why I have to leave, but I assure you I’d much rather stay. With you."


"But-"


Eros leaned forward, giving her a sweet, chaste kiss. When he leaned back, his eyes raked slowly over every inch of her face. "I’ll call you when I can."


"Eros, what’s going on?"


"Do you want to know a secret?" He grinned when she nodded. "I could fall in love with you. And I have every intention of doing just that when I get back."


Izzie stood motionless as he winked at her and walked down the hallway, eventually disappearing around the corner.


*~*~*~*~*


Addison rifled through the paperwork that was neatly stacked in the Chief Resident’s office. Callie’s familiar handwriting was jarring and she sighed, torn between anger at her best friend and the desire to kidnap her and take her away from her problems for a few weeks. She was thumbing through the cases that Callie had been working on herself when Sydney came into the room. "Uh, where’s Callie?" she asked.


"She’s swamped so I offered to help her out. Do you - would you mind taking a case for her?" Addison held out a folder. "You’re a general surgeon, right?"


"Yes," Sydney replied, accepting the folder. "But I’m not really interested in ortho."


"Me either," Addy assured her. "Do you know where the schedule is?"


Pointing at the wall behind her, Sydney watched as Addison walked around the desk and studied it. "I - I pretty much suck at the whole Chief Resident thing, but I know for a fact that Callie’s not here. Neither is Alex. I was waiting in her parking spot this morning to tell her thank you. So, whatever it is that you need ... I can take care of it. I had this gig for over a year."


Relieved, Addison said, "Really? You’ll help?"


"Callie helped me out last night. So, yeah. I’m in."


"Thank you so much."


"Is she okay?"


"I think she will be. Uhm, don’t tell anyone that she’s not here, okay?"


"My lips are sealed."


Addison squeezed the shorter woman’s arm and left her alone in the office. Sydney scanned the room as if she were seeing it for the first time. With a look of longing, she ran her hand over the top of the computer monitor, then picked up a photo of Bailey and her son. With a resolute nod, she put it back on the desk and picked up the file again, tucking it under her arm. Her lab coat was adorned with a very special pin today. It had the number twenty four on it. She was twenty four hours free of alcohol and twenty four hours into what could easily be her turning point.


Sydney wanted it to be her turning point.


Because she was tired of being the butt of her own joke.


*~*~*~


Finn was sitting in the dark feeling just the slightest bit sorry for himself. He had asked the nurse to close all the blinds because he didn’t care to see the sunrise and when the breakfast tray came, it went back out just as loaded. His appetite was gone. The previous day, Callie had not corrected him when he said that he would never walk again. She had not really given him any kind of hope and for most of the night, he had tried to convince himself that she was simply absorbed in her own drama, but the longer he thought about, the more real it became.


He could hear the seconds ticking past on the large wall clock that he could not see and he counted off ten, then twenty. He counted off a litany of things he would never do again. Play football. Run. Ride the escalator. Wade in water. Stand in the shower. Swim in the bay. Hike on the trails. Walk to his car ... if he could even drive. See over the counter at McDonald’s. Use the urinal. Get good top seats at the theater. Or the arena. He was on the verge of strangling himself with the IV wire when the door opened and an annoyingly chipper voice said, "Oh! My heavens! It’s like walking into a big cavern of despair!"


The overhead lights came on with blinding fury and Finn covered his eyes. "Do you mind?"


"Do I mind? Oh! Do you mean behave?" replied the woman, with so much cheer that it was startling. "Well behaved women rarely make history."


"Please turn off the light," he said, eyes still covered. "I like the dark."


"‘There is no such thing as darkness; only a failure to see’," she said with the same enthusiasm one might hope to find in a first year varsity cheerleader. "I don’t know who said that, but I like the saying."


"‘It’s better to light a candle than curse the darkness’," he shot back.


"I know. The candle I lit just happens to be fluorescent."


Finn had to see if the women looked anything like she sounded. Grating. Annoying. Possibly infuriating. He lowered his hands, blinking against her ‘fluorescent candle’. And for a moment, he thought he had to be seeing things wrong. She was ... beautiful. Her dark curling hair framed her face, setting off her enormous blue eyes, and the smile she wore caused him to smile back.


"Hi there," she said, extending a hand. "I’m Dr. Heron, but since we’ve traded barbs already you can call me Sydney. And you are Finn Dandridge. That’s an odd name. Finn. Like a fish."


"A heron is a bird."


"I think they eat fish so I’d advise you to buck up, guppy. Because if I have to take over this case I refuse to be drawn into your cocoon of misery." She glanced up at his remaining leg, which still dangled in traction. "Although, on a scale of one to ten, I think five percent misery could be understood."


"Only five?" he asked, watching as she pulled a pen from her lab coat and proceeded to sign his cast. She stuck her tongue out in concentration as she scrawled several words there. "Are you sure you’re a doctor?"


"Not until very recently." She put the cap back on her pen. "I feel like I just woke up from a coma and things are crystal clear."


"And I get to be your first patient since that coma?"


"Aren’t you lucky? That means you get one hundred percent of me."


His eyes strayed to a bronze circle on her collar. He knew the symbol well. The triangle within the circle had been on all the literature he tried to show his wife. "So, you’ve actually been out of your coma for twenty four hours, huh?"


Sydney’s smile faded and she self consciously touched the metal on her collar. "Every second counts, right?"


Finn thought about the seconds he had counted throughout the night. When she wrapped his arm with the blood pressure cuff and found his pulse ... he thought that maybe they *could* start to count again.


Because his heart was suddenly racing.


*~*~*~*~*~


The pain began as a dull throb. Callie was only semi aware of its presence as she drifted in and out of slumber. There were times that she was vaguely aware that someone was touching her face, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. She knew there was a reason to avoid greeting the day, but every time she started to grasp it, sleep would consume her again. It took a sharp poke in her arm to force her out of exile and she sat up so fast that the needle in her vein did more harm than good.


"Oh shit! Hold still!" Alex said loudly, grabbing a gauze to cover the tear in Callie’s arm. "Do not move!"


"Ow. God." Callie didn’t know which she should grab first: her head or her arm. Her head won the battle. "Beside manner. Find one."


"You would try the bedside manner of Jesus and he was supposedly all about the healing." Pressing his thumb against the blood flow, Alex opened another syringe with his teeth. "Are you thirsty?"


Before she could reply, he stuck the needle into another spot and she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Cambyses flashed through her head and her heart seemed to rattle in her chest. She lowered her hand from her head and laid it against her breast as she watched him blood fill several vials. She hated the fact that a heart that should have stopped beating from grief would betray her and pump her blood at all. "Oh my god ..."


Something in her voice made him look up and he saw her face fall. Thankfully the last vial had been filled and Cristina, who had waited silently in the corner, took them without a word and left the room. He sat down facing Callie, pulling her against him. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps and he rubbed circles on her back, cringing when he felt how wet her shirt was. She was drenched in sweat. Wordlessly, he tugged it over her head and pulled the cover down over her bare legs too cool her off. When he returned to the spot he had vacated, she reached for him, her tears flowing. "It’s okay," he said softly, smoothing her tangled hair over her shoulder.


She leaned her head against him and held on, her hands fisted in his shirt. She heard herself begging him the night before, pleading with him to let her drink. The soft resolve in his response as he had taken the bottle from her broke her down the middle. "I’m so sorry. I-"


"You’re probably dehydrated. You need to drink this," Alex said softly, picking up a bottle of water that he had laid on the bed before he drew her blood. "And then you're going to get up, take a shower, and we're going to talk."

"No." She didn't take the water, but she did move back and look anywhere but his face. "Just- just say it."

He watched her nervously twist her wedding rings, then put the bottle on the end table. Reaching out, he covered her left hand with his own. "I know why you did it. I saw the video so I get it, Callie. And I'm not mad."

She looked at him for the first time as if she could not believe she had heard him correctly. "But-"

"I know what I said on the yacht about you drinking again, but if it's all the same to you I'd like to take back the part about divorcing you and tell you that I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere. You have a problem and we're a team so I'm here to help."


Her fingers lifted under his and he threaded his own through hers. Neither spoke for a few moments and when Callie finally did, her voice trembled. "I'm glad that you're here. You are the only person on this earth that I trust anymore. And I'm sorry that you can't trust me. I wish I could be for you what you are for me. You have never really let me down. Not really. And that's all I ever do to you."

"Now that's not true, Gothika. I've let you down several times and you keep forgiving me so I owe you one." He reached over and turned her face toward him. "You asked me last night to let you have this one and that's what I'm going to do. But this is your one pass and I won't give you any more."

"You shouldn't give me this one." Her eyes filled with tears as they met his. "I drove my car instead of calling someone. I don't even remember getting home."

He felt his blood pressure elevate significantly. "Yeah, there is that. And you wrecked it."

Her eyes were huge now. "Oh my god! I - I don't - did I hit someone?!"


"Where did you go? After work?"

"I went to the airstrip and watched planes until I was ... numb. I wanted to leave on mine, but I couldn't."

"Because you didn't have a flight plan? Or because you knew that would kill me."

"It would have killed me. Leaving, I mean. I need to be with you."

"Well, I can't fly *fish* so we know I'm not going anywhere."

She didn't return the smile he gave her. "You don't have to pretend that everything is okay. I know why you're doing it. And I know you didn't mean to knock me down."

Alex's smile faded. He had prayed that she wouldn't remember what he could not forget. "You're wrong. I - I almost hit you, Callie, and at the last second I stopped myself and pushed you instead."

She didn't gasp, but she did look away and moved her hand from beneath his. "I really didn't expect you to say that."

"I really didn't expect you to drink. So, we both have a lot to be sorry for." Alex had experienced more than his fair share of pain because of her, but when she moved two inches away from him, he thought that it felt like she had moved miles. "'I am sorry, baby. You will never know how sorry I really am."

"We have a whole lot of sorry and not enough happy." When she inhaled, the sound was ragged. "I really don't know how to just breathe anymore. Its like I have this self destruct button and I'm that annoying kid who has to push mine ... and yours. I pushed your buttons all day yesterday."

"Well, you are my wife and historically that's what women do. I mean, Delilah did it to Samson so he shot himself in the heel to kill her."

Her brow creased. "You really weren't lying about never reading the Bible, were you?"

"Slept through church any time I went."

"Obviously."

"Delilah didn't annoy Samson to the point that he killed her?"

"No."

"And he didn't shoot his heel to spite his foot?"

"You’re thinking of Achilles, who incidentally did not shoot himself, and actually didn't make an appearance in the Bible at all."

"You know what did make an appearance repeatedly?"

"Satan?"

He chuckled. "Forgiveness. I remember that much. So, I forgive you and I hope you forgive me because I love you. We will get through this, Gothika."

"I need help."

"I'll help you every step of the way."

Callie nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder. He wrapped her in his arms so tightly that she honestly believed he could fix anything.

Even though she knew she needed the kind of help that he couldn't give her.

*****

Mark limped through the hospital lobby after work. He couldn't decide if the worst pain emanated from his calves, his back, or his thighs, but his ankles were steadily throbbing and had been all day. Both of his surgeries had bordered on catastrophe and the laughter that dogged his every step was beginning to grate. He had lied to every patient he worked on, saying that he was participating in a study, leaving it vague because because they were, after all, in a teaching hospital.

He wondered if he could convince Addison that he had learned enough and did not need to finish out the two weeks. He doubted it. He was sure she was enjoying herself completely. He changed his mind when he saw that she was bent over the janitor's cart vomiting into the dirty linens. The pain he felt with every movement did not matter anymore and he hurried to her side, resting a hand on her back.

Her face was as red as her hair when she turned to look at him. "Oh god. You caused this."

"Uh, baby, it took both of us." He swiped a clean washcloth from a nearby bin and held it out to her. "Are you okay to leave now?"

She stood up, resting a hand on her belly. It gurgled ominously and she bent again, retching so hard that the sound echoed in the spacious area. Derek walked past, heading for the door. Mark caught him smirking and said, "What?!"

Derek laughed. "Leave it to your fastest swimmers to not get the memo about *morning* sickness happening in the *morning*."

"Ha Ha." Mark scowled, patting his wife on the back.

She elbowed him, grazing over the belly and planting her pointy bone right into his groin. It was his turn to make sounds that reverberated through the lobby, but he didn't care. Dropping to his knees was an orgy of pain and he made it loud and clear all the way down. His howl was so wolf like and primal that children began to cry and cling to their mothers. Mark looked ready to cling to *anything* and settled on cupping his balls as he fell forward, resting his forehead on the cool tile floor.

Addison laughed until she made herself sick again and she thought that she would have to make room for Derek over the laundry bin. Her ex husband was laughing so hard that he had crossed his own legs in sympathy and was coughing with hysteria. It was Burke who assisted Mark in his time of need and Burke who held it together until he saw the tears streaming down Mark's cheeks.

Preston Burke was a man of resolve, but when Mark wheezed that he was dying, that resolve broke and he wheezed out, "I've heard that hormones are pretty tricky in the last tri-mester. You really are taking this to the extremes, man."

"I hope all you assholes get a body infestation of mites and ... shingles," Mark wheezed, rocking back and forth on his knees.

Derek snapped a photo with his cell phone for good measure. "You know, he looks a little like that Britney Spears sculpture thing where she’s on her knees on the fur carpet or whatever?"

"I hate you people," Mark snapped. "And if I hear one more camera heads will roll."

Derek and Preston BOTH took photos.

Addison wanted to enjoy it, but another wave of nausea sent her back over the laundry and she didn’t mind very much at all.

Because Mark was the one groaning.

*~*~*~*~*~

Melana knocked on the bathroom door as Callie was emerging from the shower. Instead of waiting for an invitation, she opened the door and drew up short, her eyes roaming over her daughter’s flesh. Or lack thereof. The chamomile tea that she was carrying splashed over her trembling hands and she quickly set it down, turning away until Callie wrapped herself in a towel and greeted her. When Mel looked at her again, Callie was pulling a comb through her hair as if nothing could possibly be wrong in the world. Moving behind her, she met her eyes in the mirror. "Alex went to pick up takeout. Do you feel better?"


Callie nodded. "I should buy stock in Tylenol."


"You should buy stock in traction because I’m about to put you in it."


As far as threats went, that one was pretty decent. Callie slowly put the comb down and turned to face her mother, whose body language was a huge, neon, flashing warning sign. "I really don’t need this right now."


"And you think that we do?" Mel’s head tilted dangerously. "Is it always about *you*?"


"If you want to have a fight with me then you need to wait until tomorrow because I’m not in a very good mood and -"


"There it is again, honey. You. You. You. Well, I’m not in a very good mood either and I don’t put off until tomorrow what I can do today." Taking a step forward, she was nearly nose to nose with Callie. "I spent *years* on my knees asking God for a daughter. She didn’t have to be beautiful. She didn’t have to be talented. She didn’t have to be anything but *mine*. I wanted a little girl with everything in me and then you came and I held you and I thought that my life was finally complete. I had *everything*. And you ... you self involved disaster ... are hell bent on taking that from me.


"I raised you better than this. I expect more from you than this. And I know that you’re better than this. I am *furious* at you for drinking again, but I want to disown you for drinking and *driving*. I’ve thought about it all day. You could have died. You took your life in your own drunken hands and wrecked in the process. I’ve thought about the fact that I could be viewing your body right now, trying to think straight enough to plan your funeral because I know Alex couldn’t do it, and I could be down on my knees asking God why he gave me everything I didn’t ask for in a girl. You are beautiful. You are talented. But you are *not* mine when you behave this way. I don’t want to know you when you behave this way." Melana’s jaw tightened when Callie looked away. She reached up and snatched her face back around, moving even closer. "You could have killed someone else’s daughter last night. And I wouldn’t have blamed them for hating you."


Callie’s nostrils flared slightly. "You think I don’t hate myself?"


"I think you must loathe yourself. You may be self involved, but you have no idea what self respect is."


"Are you finished yet?"


"Not quite." Melana’s eyes narrowed. "Alex accepts this madness because he’s blinded by love or he’s an idiot. I don’t suffer either ailment so I’m going to tell you exactly like it is."


"Cam is -"


"Twice the person you are."


"He was -"


"Working undercover for the right reasons."


"He said -"


"Whatever he had to say to keep us alive." Melana looked at her offspring expectantly. "You want it to all be about *you* so leave Cam out of it."


"I would *not* have done what I did if I hadn’t seen that video! Mom, you don’t know what -"


"THEN YOU COME HOME AND CONFRONT IT WITH A CLEAR HEAD!"


"I COULDN’T! OKAY!? I COULDN’T DEAL WITH IT! I AM OH SO FUCKING SORRY IF YOU GOT THE SHORT END OF THE STICK WITH ME! I DIDN’T EXACTLY HIT THE JACKPOT WITH YOU EITHER!"


"IS THERE ANYONE ELSE YOU WANT TO BLAME, CALLIOPE!? OR ARE YOU READY TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR YOUR OWN ACTIONS!?"


"YOU MAY THINK YOU’RE GOD, BUT YOU’RE NOT!" Callie yelled. "AND EVEN *HE* CAN’T HOLD ME ACCOUNTABLE BECAUSE HE GAVE UP A LONG TIME AGO! WHY DON’T YOU!?"


"WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO LOVE YOURSELF!? WHEN!?!"


"WHEN I’M DEAD, I GUESS!"


Melana gasped, drew back, and slapped her as hard as she could across the face.


It shook them both to the core.


Callie’s hand slowly went to her cheek as if she had to feel it to believe it. She watched the same shock wash over Melana’s almost identical features and she wondered briefly which one of them the lick had hurt the most. Her answer came when her mother burst into tears and pulled her into her arms. Clinging to her, Callie let her own tears fall, apologizing over and over. They stood that way for what felt like an eternity, Melana stroking her wet hair and kissing the cheek that she had left a perfect print on.


"Mom?" Callie finally whispered.


"What, mi vida?" Mel sobbed, cupping her face with both hands.


"Can you do something for me?"


"Anything."


"Call Finn. He’s in room four nineteen at the hospital. Just ... ask him to call the place he told me about. The place he toured. And tell him I need them to deliver."


Mel looked confused. "What place?"


"He’ll know."


"Honey, what-"


"Mom, please. Please do this for me ... because I don’t have the strength to do it myself. I need you to do this. You have to do this."


Melana sensed the hysteria that was building and nodded. "I’ll do it right now."


"Tell him to make them hurry."


Callie took a deep breath and looked at her reflection again when her mother left the room. Opening the towel, she stared at her breasts. They were no longer ample, they were small. And the hourglass curve of her hips that she used to relish was almost boyishly straight. Her thighs were too slender and her stomach was flat. She sucked in and cringed at the way her ribs protruded. It wasn’t her. It was a stranger. Her mind wasn’t hers. Her body wasn’t hers. And her actions were *not* her. She wanted herself back. She wanted the woman that Alex had fallen in love with, the woman that *she* had fallen in love with, to make an appearance again ... because this one wasn’t fitting any more.


She let her fingers dance over her cheek and sighed, hoping that the rehabilitation center that Finn had toured could help her.


Because there was no lower place than this ... so it had to be rock bottom.
CH24
Dedicated: To Alicia and Amber for sending me the best care package from NYC that ever was. You guys mean the world to me and I adore you. Even if one of you talks way too fast. ;)
Inside my head there lives a dream that I want to see in the sun
Behind my eyes there lives a me that I've been hiding for much too long
'Cause I've been, too afraid to let it show
'Cause I'm scared of the judgment that may follow
Always putting off my living for tomorrow
It's time to step out on faith, I've gotta show my faith
It's been illusive for so long, but freedom is mine today
I've gotta step out on faith, It's time to show my faith
Procrastination had me down but look what I have found, I found

Strength, courage, and wisdom
And it's been inside of me all along,
Strength, courage, and wisdom
Inside of me

*~*~*~*~*~
Addison paged Alex to the cafeteria at lunchtime. After searching for him most of the day and being told that he was in one surgery after another, she was anxious and ready to grill him about Callie. She had wanted to drop by again the previous night, but Mark had insisted that they not interfere in a family matter. His stance was that Callie didn’t need any visitors when she woke up. While Addison didn’t agree, she also didn’t feel up to arguing because she was feeling horrible and had forced Mark to stop the car twice so she could throw up on the side of the road. Waiting beside the cafeteria doors, she perked up when Alex appeared, clearing his pager. She took one look at him and hugged him, telling him that she was sorry about everything that had happened. He returned the embrace, patting her on the back. "She's okay," he said softly.

"We're still covering for her," Addy told him, taking a step back. "Webber won't have to know that she's not here."

Richard, who was standing at the condiment cart, cleared his voice behind her and said, "At least Callie can be honest. She already called me."

Alex's brow furrowed. "She did?"

"I approved her medical leave." Richard put his hand on Alex's shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "She's making the right decision."

The look of confusion on Alex's face made Chief Webber take a step back. He glanced at Addison, then back at Alex. "Perhaps you should go home for lunch, Alex. Addison, go with him."

Neither had to be told twice. Addison had to slip off her heels to keep up with Alex as they jogged out to his car. The drive to Whisper Cove was silent and when they pulled up in front of the house, Addison gasped. Mark had told her that he needed to run a few errands before work, but he was standing in the yard with Melana, sans pregnancy suit. The look on his face when he saw them was one of shocked apprehension. He looked away, adding to the bud of concern already fluttering in Addison’s stomach.

Melana met Alex halfway, speaking rapidly. "She didn't want to say goodbye. She thought it would be easier for everyone this way."

"Say goodbye?" Alex asked, staring at the house for signs of life. "What's going on?"

Melana rested her hand on his cheek. "It's a good facility. I spoke with the director at length last night and - and she will be able to get well there. I know she will. She needs this. She needs to go and heal."

"She's gone?" Alex asked, his eyes still on the house. "Why didn't she -"

Mark cleared his throat, taking a tentative step forward. "She didn't think she would have the strength to go if you were here." He looked at Addison. "Either one of you."

"But you can be here?!" Addison cried. "Where is this place?! When is she coming back!? And where the hell is the belly, asshole!?"

"She will only be gone thirty days." Melana gave her a sad smile. "And we don't know where the facility is. That's one of the rules. We can't visit or call, but - but she can put daily letters ... or ... diaries online for the first fifteen days. On the sixteenth day, if she wants to, she can videotape it."

"Video blogging," Mark added. "Apparently it gives the patients incentive because if she agrees to let her meetings and stuff be filmed then it will motivate her to give her all. Because you could be watching."

Melana pulled her shawl a little tighter. "Let's go inside. It's terribly cold."

Addy followed Mel into the house, but Alex didn't. Wordlessly, he stalked down toward the water. He made it as far as the swing before he lost control. He drew back and punched a tree once and Mark stopped him before he could do it a second time. Alex pulled away and sat down on the bank that overlooked the water, his head in his hands.

Mark sat next to him, gazing out at the cove. "You would have been proud of her today. She was ready when they got here and she didn't even think twice about it. She got her bag, hugged her mother, and left without a word. She didn't falter one time. She's ready to get better and that matters more than a goodbye that would have killed you both."

When Alex didn't reply, Mark sighed. "You can't hold this against her. She crossed a real line by driving. We see every single day what happens to people who do that. She could have died and I don't think she has a death wish anymore."

Still, Alex said nothing.

"Are you leaving her? For saving herself?"

The only reaction Mark received was a slight tightening in Alex’s jaw.


Mark reached into the front pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out an envelope. "She said to give this to you if you started to pack your things and go. I don't know if that's what you're thinking, but you should be so happy right now that it’s the last thing on your mind. In thirty days, your life can *finally* begin."

He put the letter on the ground beside his friend and got to his feet. "She's doing this for herself, but she's going to do it right for you. She didn't pack a lot of her own things, she packed a lot of your shirts to take with her. So, you're there. Keep that in mind."

Alex didn't pick up the letter until long after Mark and Addison had left for work. His fingers were numb from the cold when he finally opened it. His eyes were drawn to several smudges where the paper had obviously been wet. He traced his thumb over them. They were tear stains, he knew that in his gut. He took a deep breath and began to read.


When he finished the letter, his own tears had splashed against the pages. He leaned his head against his leg, letting the note dangle from his fingers. Melana wrapped a warm blanket around him a while later, but she left him alone with his thoughts and he was grateful.

*****

Finn scrolled through the messages on his Blackberry. He had not heard anything about Callie. The ominous call from her mother had been startling and unexpected the previous night. He stared at the number to Freedom Ridge on the display screen. He had never deleted it. Even after Liz died, he kept it there to remind him that he had *tried* to keep her safe. He was still gazing at the number when Dr. Heron entered the room.

She drew up short and shielded her eyes. "Knock me over with a feather! I see you, Donnie Darko!!"

He lowered his phone. "Are you always so cheerful?"

"Ancient Mayans believed that showing the teeth brought luck. Of course, a full set of teeth was frowned upon, but we have made great dental strides and should not be ashamed of that." She pointed at his leg. "How's the pain?"

"Painful."

"Some cultures embrace pain in the form of self mutilation because scars are considered -"

"Did you come in here to give me a lesson in diversity or do you want something?"

Her brows knitted together, but her smile remained in place. "Oh, I see you decided to eat a bowl of bad attitude today."

"What does our culture say about disabilities? Should I show my teeth because I get one of those pretty little handicap signs for my car? Or because I can afford the Rolls Royce of wheelchairs?"

"Defeatist attitudes are not attractive."

"Neither is a stump."

"Oh, I don't know about all that. My father was excessively handsome and he only had one arm." She leaned against the bed, still grinning. "You know what he didn't have? One of those pretty blue handicap signs for his car. He didn't view himself as handicapped. He viewed himself as handy."

"Is there something you want?"

She flipped open his chart. "Dr. Callie Torres O'Malley Karev is an excellent note taker. She uses words like optimistic, strong, motivated, happy, and good natured to describe you. Tell me, Shark boy, where is this person she met because you are none of the above."

"Reality starts to sink in when you have nothing but time." Finn sighed. "Are you friends with Callie?"

"She's my AA sponsor."

Finn brightened considerably. "Then you can help me! What happened to make her head off to rehab?"

Sydney's face fell. "Wh-what?"

"I know all about her alcohol problem. The rehab is one that I spoke with her about. I actually made the call for them to come and get her so she won't mind if you tell me what happened."

Sydney moved away from the bed and slumped into the chair, clearly stunned. "But she - she was so motivational. Talking about birds flying and ... and taking care of yourself and - oh my God!!!"

He was watching her closely. "What?"

"I asked her to take the alcohol out of my locker so I wouldn't be tempted." Sydney got to her feet. "I need to go."

"Wait!" Finn saw something in her face that he had seen many times on his wife's face. Hunger for intoxication. "You took over my case and, well, Callie played cards with me. So, I'd feel better if you stayed and did that."

"I don't have any cards." Sydney inched closer to the door, nervously fingering the AA pin on her coat.

Finn patted the bed. "Then we can pass a little time talking. My parents aren't coming back for three weeks and my secretary hates hospitals. Callie and Meredith are my only visitors so you should do the right thing and help the cripple."

"Cripple means useless or worthless. I don't think you're either of those things," she replied.

"And I don't think you should leave until you're not thinking that you are. Because if you drink, BirdGirl, you're going to feel really bad and if I can stop you from doing that-"

"You'll kill two birds with one stone?"

"No." He patted the bed again. "I might save you. And me. From boredom or something."

Sydney sat down beside him. "You really might be bi-polar."

"And you really might not be annoying."

******

Cambyses Torres was considered the CIA's Golden Child. His natural physical prowess made him a force to be reckoned with, but his ability to mentally shut down was the envy of his co-workers. He remained stoic during the many meetings and briefings he had endured for over twenty four straight hours. He held his tongue when his father threatened everyone that was present for "ruining" his son's life and Cam didn't bat an eyelash when the true extent of his dealings with The Triad were exposed. He watched himself on the videos and didn't flinch until the Commander arrived at the one Callie had witnessed herself. At that point, Cambyses gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles were white and tried to imagine anything other than the crushed look on his sister’s face when she had confronted him.

Raphael, who had been given clearance to sit in simply to avoid any more drama or a stroke, glared at his son the entire time it played. Cam grew fidgety under the scrutiny and when Blake finally arrived ... the CIA's Golden Child became a broken child and burst into tears. Blake did not acknowledge Raphael at all. Instead, he strolled across the room, paused before Cam, and said, "Leave the room. Do not come back until you have control of yourself."

Twenty minutes later, when Cam still had not returned, Raphael excused himself and went to find him. The noises that were coming from the gym gave his son's location away. Raphael opened the door to find him stripped bare to the waist, destroying a punching bag. Raph took his own jacket off, eyeing the many tattoos that dotted Cam's torso. They were just like everything else in his life: hidden beneath layers of cloth ... and lies.

Rolling up his sleeves, Raph moved behind the bag and held onto it. When he saw the abrasions on Cam's knuckles, he said, "Wrap your hands."

Cam's response was to hit harder. He punched until the canvas bag was dotted with blood and sweat was running down his face. He punched until Raphael was winded himself and then he flopped onto the floor, sitting with his back against the wall. Raphael opened the refrigerator in the corner and retrieved two bottles of water. Sitting next to Cam, he held one out and said, "You could have told me that you were an agent."

Cam downed half the water before he answered. "And you could have told me about FMC."

"I thought that having one of my children involved was enough."

"And I thought that you understood that Callie and I were half of the same whole. Every time you took off with her ... I felt it harder than Mom!"

Raphael's eyes narrowed. "If you were so concerned about being half of a whole then perhaps you should have told HER the truth!"

"The same way she told me about FMC?"

"She begged me to include you. When we would leave, she'd cry for days because she missed you so much. She never, under any circumstances, would have spoken about you the way you spoke about her."

"I was playing a PART. I had a very specific set of guidelines and I had to make everyone believe it." Cam shook his head. "And it's not like you told Mom until you absolutely had to! She was pregnant with Stavros and had to watch her father die at her wedding before you said a damn thing."

Raphael stiffened. "Who told you that?"

"Mom," Cam shot back. "Only not exactly. She wrote it in a diary that we read. Me and Callie."

Raphael's face turned bright red at the thought of his kids reading such intimate details. "Unbelievable."

"Tell me about it! This is why we don't want to hear ANYTHING else about your sex life!"

Raphael started to reply, but his phone rang. He got to his feet to retrieve it from his jacket. He smiled when he saw the number. "It is your mother." He flipped it open and said, "Hello, mi vida."

Mel sobbed. "I hit her. I hit her and she was so shocked and just so hurt. Her little face was red, her cheek was still swollen today, and when she left, she whispered that she forgave me, but I don't. I hit her, Raph! I hit our baby!"

Raphael put his hand over his mouth, listening to her cry. He finally asked, "What happened?"

Melana told him about the confrontation in Callie's bathroom and about how frail she looked, naked and exposed. She finished the tale through wracking sobs. "Alex is sitting outside in the rain and Stavros and Loukas are on their way for Thanksgiving and what do we have to be thankful for!? I swore to you that I would never, ever strike our children the way my parents struck me! I hit her as hard as I could! Right in the face! And she's gone! She's GONE!!"

"Wait, honey, what do you mean she's gone? Where is Callie?"

Across the room, Cambyses got to his feet. His hand instinctively covered the ying yang tattoo on his chest. It was the first one he had ever gotten and it had been for Callie. He watched his father slump back against the bench press and waited.

Raphael sighed after a while. "Where is this place?"

"They wouldn't tell me."

"What do you mean they wouldn't tell you!? Melana, my daughter is going to be gone for thirty days and I demand to know where she is! Did you research the facility?! Did you ask questions!? Did you-"

"I did the best I could! She didn't even tell me that she was going until they arrived to get her!"

"I demand to know where she is!"

"Well, I can't help you!" Mel shouted. "I can't even help her!"

"No, but you can hit her apparently!"

The line went dead and Raphael snapped his cell shut, clenching it in his fist. "Callie left for rehab today."

"But-"

"I don't care how you do it, Cambyses, but you get your ass back in there, tell them that you resign, and get them to okay that! Because we are going to Callie's for Thanksgiving and you WILL have some good news for your mother! This is over, Cam! Over!!"

"Did she hit her?" Cam made no move to retrieve his shirt. "Dad! Did mom hit her?"

"Yes. And I will show you exactly how it feels if you don't go in there and get this done! Now!"

"Callie went to rehab?"

Raphael snatched up his son's discarded clothing and threw it at him, striking him full in the face with it. "I'll wait outside! I really don't want to look at the ink all over your body! Although, if those tattoos represent the pain you've caused, I don't think you have enough."

"This is the part where I say pot, kettle to you!" Cam growled, yanking on his shirt. "You did the same thing to Mom that I did to *you*."

In the end ... Cam’s resignation went smoothly.

Due in large part to the fact that Raphael Torres was a man of his word ... and he made it very clear that his son was finished or there would be hell to pay.

*******

Alex was soaked when he came inside. One of Seattle's patented showers had come and gone just as swiftly as Callie had. He glanced at Melana, who was sitting on the sofa wearing her robe. One hand was against her head and her face was splotchy from crying.

"Why don't you put on something dry, son?" She met his eyes and pointed at the fireplace. "I have been trying to get that fire to catch for an hour. It's terribly cold."

Alex opened the wire curtain and poked at the smoldering logs. Kneeling down, he put another piece of wood in the grate and turned the gas lighter up to full blast. "Callie buys wood from this old man near the hospital. He doesn't cure it nearly enough and it never burns right, but she feels sorry for him so she stops anytime she has my SUV and has him fill it up."

Melana got to her feet and pulled Chunk's bed closer to the warmth. The dog, who had been lying on the sofa with his feet in the air, rolled to the floor and followed her, circling the bed until he found a comfortable spot. He flopped down with a grunt and gazed at the flames briefly before closing his eyes once again. Mel held her hands out in front of her, digging for warmth. "I feel chilled to the bone. I'm certain you do as well. Why don't you -"

"What were the people like?" Alex asked softly. "The ones who came for her?"

Melana lowered her hands to her sides. "They were nice. It was a man and woman. He - he was very large. I think perhaps he was an orderly. He accompanied Callie to the bedroom to watch her pack. Mark went with them. I spoke with the director. She was very informative and assured me that Callie taking the initiative to help herself bodes well for her prognosis. They usually come out for interventions. They didn't have to do that with Callie."

"Did she cry? I mean, was she okay? Was she upset?"

"She put on a brave face for my benefit, but when she hugged me she was trembling. I would imagine that the flight, wherever it was going, was a hard one for her."

"And she didn't say anything about me?"

"I believe her actions spoke louder than anything she could have said, sweetheart." Mel touched his hand. "Leaving you without a warning was the most humane way she could go. You make her wear her heart on her sleeve and if you had been here then she would have left in tears. Or not at all."

"And she can't call us?"

Melana shook her head. "No, but the director said that she would encourage her to post an update when they arrived."

"What kind of rehab encourages blogging?"

"I pray it's one that works." She took a deep breath, picking up the soaked blanket he had been covered with. "Are you hungry?"

"She thought that I would leave her." Alex said the words so low that Mel leaned in closer to him. "She actually thought that-"

"She thought that it was possible. I assured her that underestimating you would be a lot worse than overestimating. She didn't mean to hurt you by not trusting in your love, but-"

"She shouldn't trust me."

Melana ignored the fact that he was wet and hugged him. "Because you pushed her down?"

"Because I wanted to do more." He wrapped his arms around his mother in law and held on tight. "I could have done more. I wasn't just pushing her off Cam ... I was mad as hell at her."

"You didn't hit her," Mel replied softly. "That does matter. Because you would be pushing up daisies today if you had."

Alex stepped back and dried his eyes. "I never want to cross that line again. I came too close. No one should be hit, Mel."

"She told you that I hit her, didn't she?"

"She didn't have to."

Melana clasped her hands together and moved back to the chair she had vacated. "I made a vow to myself and to Raphael that I would never do to our kids what my parents did to me. We are a lot alike, Alex, you and me. My father never hit my mother, but he did hit me and so did she and I never, ever raised a hand to my children until last night. Callie lives to provoke me and-"

"Don't blame her," he interjected. "She has enough demons of her own without us adding ours."

Meeting his eyes, she nodded. "You’re right. You are. When the car pulled away today ... she was looking back the entire time. I could see her sweet, beautiful face until they rounded the drive and disappeared. And my hand actually ached ... it actually hurt me bone deep. I started thinking about the night that Richard ate dinner here and she got upset. Even though we raged at one another ... she came and slept with me because she knew she had hurt my feelings. She does provoke me, but she soothes me more. She makes me furious, but the second she smiles at me ... I feel like I’ve done something right in this life. And it kills me that she doesn’t hold herself in the same regard. I think she is the most remarkable woman I’ve ever know and for some reason ... she doesn’t see that. Why? Why does she dislike herself enough to hurt herself again and again?"

Alex felt the letter Callie had left him rustle in the pocket of his jeans. "She has to find those answers. I don’t know."

"Did I fail her? Was I too hard on her? Did I expect too much? Should I have seen what was happening with Raphael and put a stop to it?"

"Questioning everything won’t help." Alex walked to the couch and squatted down in front of her. "I can only speak from my experience and tell you that I would have given anything for a family like this when I was growing up. Callie has told me stories about her childhood and I swear to you she laughs until her sides ache. She loves you all with everything in her and she is so excited that you and Raphael are thinking of moving out here. Even part time. She was already talking about how lucky our kids will be to have their grandparents so close."

"Kids?" Melana’s brows raised. "She’s not-"

"Not yet," Alex replied, chuckling. "But she stopped the birth control and we decided that our five year plan should be a one year plan. That - that was something we talked about on our little ill fated trip."

"It wasn’t so ill fated, Alex. I think - I think maybe it woke her up."

"I think you’re right." He pushed himself to his feet and glanced down the hallway. "It’s gonna be hard to sleep without her."

"Then maybe you’re wide awake as well." Melana took his left hand, her thumb rubbing his wedding band. "Thirty days without her should be just enough to make you realize that every moment of a marriage counts. Thirty days of not having her in your life will remind you of what it feels like every time you leave her in anger ... and when that time inevitably comes again ... you’ll remember this, honey, and you won’t even consider walking out that door."

"Mel, when she comes back ... I’m going to ask if we can be surgically attached. Mark’s crazy enough to do it."

*~*~*~*~*

Somehow Cambyses and Raphael arrived before Stavros and Loukas. Melana met them at the door, still wearing her robe. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes were red, and when Cambyses pulled her into his arms, she let go. Raphael bypassed the outpouring of grief entirely and headed into the guest room he was sharing with his wife. Snatching off his jacket, he threw it across the room, then barged into the master bedroom, where Alex was lying on the bed. Wordlessly, Raph pulled open the closet door and swore fluently when he saw the empty hangers there. Whirling, he put his hands on his hips and regarded his son in law. "Is she okay? What did she say before she left?"


"I wasn’t here. I - I don’t know."


Raphael’s bottom jaw flew open. "You didn’t think you needed to be here for that!? You just threw her to the wolves!?"


"She didn’t tell me she was going!" Alex swung his legs off the side of the bed. "This was *your* plan all along! You wanted her to go to rehab!"


"I damn well wanted to make sure it was a decent place! Who the hell knows where she is!?"


"Well, Mr. CIA, why don’t you track her like you always threaten to do?!"


Raph put his hands on his hips. "I would do that, *Alexander*, if I had not just burned my bridges with them. I’m surprised I’m not swinging from a tree in their back yard!"


Melana appeared in the doorway, glaring at her husband. "I think I already told you that *I* verified that it was a decent place. I have it on *very* good authority that it’s a wonderful environment for her to be in. And not to sound redundant, Raphael, but could you please stop blaming Alex for everything? Do I really have to remind you why she took her first drink to begin with? Look at your own hands before you look at his!"


"Look at *your* hands, Melana! At least I never *hit* her!"


"I may have hit her, you son of a bitch, but you have been beating her to the ground her entire life!" Melana shrieked. "You introduced her to a world that she had to drink to escape and I had to knock the poison out of her that you put in!"


"STOP IT!" Cambyses shouted from the doorway. "JUST ... STOP! WE COULD BE THE GOD DAMN POSTER FAMILY FOR DYSFUNCTION AND I’M SICK OF IT! WE ALL DID THIS! OKAY!? WE ALL FUCKED UP AND CALLIE IS SICK BECAUSE OF IT! SCREAMING WON’T HELP!"


"Cambyses Iason Torrres!" Melana cried. "If you take the Lord’s name in vain again and I hear it ... I will rip your tongue out and tithe with it at the church! I’m sure they’d love to examine whether or not it’s forked!"


Alex had to put a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. In the doorway, Cam didn’t bother. He threw his head back and laughed. A moment later, Melana and Raphael were chuckling and eventually the tension from the moment began to pass. Melana ran a hand through her hair and groaned, moving to the left so that she could see herself in the mirror. With a look of chagrin, she turned on her heel and left the room. Cambyses followed after her, talking softly. Alex regarded his father in law for a moment. "So, you pissed off the CIA?" he asked.


"I no longer have to wonder who Callie inherited tantrums from." Raphael absently picked up a hair band that was resting on the end table. He worried it with his fingers, gazing down at the black hair that had been tangled in it. "I don’t know whether to be hurt that she didn’t say goodbye ... or relieved."


"We’re in the same boat," Alex replied, sitting on the bed once again. "She’s supposed to give us an update tonight."


His face brightening, Raph asked, "She can call us?"


"No, but we can see an online journal of some kind that she will be using to keep us informed."


"Well, that sounds absurd!"


"And I can’t wait to read it."


"Me either."


A short while later, everyone assembled in the living room. Melana sat on the sofa between Cambyses and Alex, watching as Raphael paced the room. Callie’s laptop was open on the coffee table. Mel had meticulously typed in the URL for the journal and put in the password provided by the facility. So far there was nothing written there and Cam had taken to compulsively refreshing the page to no avail. The only information provided on the page was her name and the date she checked in. There was a ticker in the corner that counted down the days for ‘success’.


"Nothing?" Raphael asked quietly after wearing himself out with the walking.


Cambyses refreshed, ready to shake his head, but he gasped instead. "There’s something there!"


Melana leaned forward, reading out loud, "‘Well, I’m here. I didn’t pack very well. I brought jeans and t-shirts and this may be the coldest place I’ve ever been in my life. I feel like I’m in Antarctica. All you see for miles is snow, snow, and more snow. I’m pretty sure that Jimmy Hoffa’s body is buried underneath this mess. But it is beautiful. It took two planes to get here. We took a puddle jumper to another air strip and then got into this little cramped piece of shit rattle trap. Never, ever let it be said that I take risks again. Coming through the trees, the pilot was actually scraping the tops so I’m officially sorry for every boneheaded thing I ever did when I flew any of you ANYWHERE. My knuckles are still a little white from that and for the first time in my entire life ... I had air sickness.


"‘There are only seven patients here right now including me. There are about twenty employees, though, so we’re very outnumbered. Each of us have our own cabin, but don’t think for one second that it’s anything like Addison and Mark’s place. It’s very rugged. We have to carry snow shovels everywhere we go because we literally have to dig ourselves in and out of the doorways. I guess it builds character, but can I just say that a nice, warm, tropical rehab in the Bahamas may ALSO have built character? And tan lines?’" Melana paused, chuckling a little before she continued. "‘At any rate, I’m here. I’m fine. I’m actually about to head out to a group meeting so I can introduce myself to everyone. I have a digital camera and I’m allowed to take all the photos I want, which I’ll definitely do, because you won’t believe what was on my front porch when I got here. I almost climbed the side of the house, but I think we’ve reached an agreement now. Although, peeing my pants was very warming.


"‘I miss you all so much that I can’t stand it. I’m pretty sure the director of this place and Jonesy, he’s a guard, think I’m a complete mess because I went through about four boxes of Kleenex on the first flight (I was too scared to cry on the second one), but since they seemed to have a life time supply in the back room of the plane maybe my reaction isn’t all that strange. I can’t wait to heal. I can’t wait to get better and get on with life because I’m ready. I’m so ready. I love you all, I’m thinking of you all, and I’m counting the days to see you again. Always, Callie. PS, here’s my cabin. Daddy, don’t worry, it’s rugged in a good way so don’t try to find me and send me to the Ritz Carlton. I’m really okay. I promise.’"


Raphael moved around the table, gazing down at the photo that she had attached. The little A-line cabin was indeed small and rugged. He clenched his fists at his sides and said, "They can’t expect her to shovel that snow! She’s ... she’s a ... -"


"Woman?" Melana raised a brow. "She also breaks bones for a living and you will do exactly as she says and leave her alone. All of us will. I mean it."


Cam leaned back against the sofa, his arms crossed. "She doesn’t get airsick. She must be somewhere that the altitudes are -"


"Stop!" Melana glared at her son. "Don’t try to guess and don’t try to contact her."


"You know where she is!" Raphael accused, pointing at his wife. "You know and you *will* tell me!"


"You’ll have an easier time pulling a Mercedes from your ass to replace the one our daughter almost died in." Mel shot him a hateful glare. "And you’d have to dislodge your head first."


Alex ignored the exchange entirely. He had pulled the computer into his lap and was reading through the words for the third time. Melana eventually stopped arguing with Raphael and glanced at him. He met her eyes and said, "She’s not okay."


"She said she is." Tapping the screen, Melana pointed out the words ‘I’m really okay’. "Honey, we have to give her the benefit of the doubt this time. We have to."


"I know her," Alex said, closing the computer and setting it back on the table. "She’s doing the joking thing where she tries to be funny to keep from crying, but she cried the entire time she wrote that. I know she did."


"She’s homesick," Mel assured him. "I think she meant it, though. She’s fine."


"No," Cam interjected. "She’s trying to make *us* feel better and it didn’t work."


Raphael had begun pacing again. He finally held up both hands and addressed the people who sat on the sofa. His voice was stern, his eyes were fierce, and he commanded their attention. "Thirty days from now, Calliope will walk through that door and it’s up to us to make sure that she never has to go again. It’s up to us to see to it that she really is okay, that she really is fine, and not ignore any warning signs because they’ve been here all along. None of us saw it."


Alex leaned forward, hands clasped between his legs as he nodded in agreement. "I knew that something wasn’t right when we broke up. It was before Addison’s wedding and she was just sitting in the hospital chapel by herself. When she looked up me ... I knew something had happened. That was the day after she got drunk with Sydney and I *knew* that there had to be a reason why she spent the night at the hospital, but I was too pissed to ... care. I didn’t care. That won’t happen again."


Cam studied Alex for a few seconds, then said, "I talked to her that day, too. I could feel it in my gut that something wasn’t right. I didn’t do anything either."


Melana leaned back, her fingers against her temple. "We’re moving to Seattle, Raphael. I don’t care how you make it happen, but it will happen, because *I* won’t ignore what’s obvious."


Raphael nodded. "Fine."


The alarm beeped twice and Stavros’ voice filled the room. "Hellllloooo? We’re here and the gatekeeper seems to be gone."


"OH SHIT!" Cambyses shot to his feet. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"


"Cam!" Melana chided. "Be happy to see your brothers and-"


"LEON!" he cried, raking his hands through his hair. "He’s a spy, Dad. He’s been feeding The Triad information about everything that happens here. I didn’t even think about -"


As if the wind had been knocked out of him, Raphael sat down, shell shocked.


"WHAT!?" Alex roared, leaping to his feet. "MY MOTHER HAS BEEN SEEING HIM!"


"I’m sorry," Cambyses replied. "I couldn’t exactly say anything, could I!?"


"YES, BY GOD, YOU COULD!" Alex shouted, his face bright red. He stalked across the room and grabbed his coat from the hook. "WHAT IF HE HURTS HER TO GET AT US!?"


"Where are you going?" Melana asked nervously


"TO GET MY MOTHER!" Alex shoved his arms in the sleeves, glaring at Cam. "You better pray that she’s okay!"


"I’ll go with you," Cam said, reaching under his shirt to withdraw a gun. He checked the chamber and returned it to the holster, trying to ignore the look his mother was giving him. "We’ll be back soon."


*~*~*~*~*~


Callie dug her shovel into the hard snow. She wasn’t shoveling the frozen mess, she was trying to keep the wind from knocking her on her ass. Her face was chapping and she pulled her scarf around her cheeks, feeling like Randy in ‘A Christmas Movie’ as she adjusted the cumbersome white coat that impeded her every move. The fur hat did little to fend off the strong gusts that sent the unpacked snow swirling around her, blinding her. "Great," she mumbled. "I’m going to die at rehab."


Something growled behind her and she turned, looking at the animal that had dogged her steps since she arrived. "I hope you know the way," she said, struggling to pull the shovel from the ice. "Because I don’t. And I’m pretty sure if I had a thermometer up my ass ... it wouldn’t read at all."


The panther, large and black, sinew and muscle, sat down and regarded her. He cocked his regal head to one side, his golden eyes never leaving hers. He had been waiting on her porch when she arrived, escorted by Jonesy, who had stopped to rub his massive head and offer a treat. The truly unbelievable part is that Jonesy had introduced the cat as Achilles and the conversation she’d had with Alex about Samson, Delilah, and Achilles came rushing back to her. Jonesy had left her alone with Achilles, who had stood on his back legs to peer in at her from the porch. One the second flight to the middle of nowhere, Alicia, the director, had explained that Freedom Ridge did not just rehabilitate people ... they rehabilitated wild animals. Very wild animals.


Freedom Ridge believed that you could cure addiction the same way you could tame something wild ... with patience and perseverance.


Callie had been greeted in the main lodge by a raccoon, a possum, and a coyote who was limping through the rooms with a cast on its leg. The raccoon demanded her immediate attention, trying to climb up her leg which was more painful than risking life and limb to pick it up. It settled into her arms like a baby as she answered one question after another, playfully tugging on her fingers and licking the salt from her skin. It helped, sidetracking herself a little with the raccoon, because most of the questions were intrusive and hard to answer. Hearing herself say things out loud to a complete stranger drove home the fact that she was where she needed to be.


It just didn’t make it any easier.


Tears blurred her vision and she gave up prying the shovel from the ice. Snow was now falling at an alarming rate and she wasn’t even sure she had set off in the right direction. There were no visible lights, no trails, just her, her furry shadow, and a nonexistent sense of direction.


Callie Karev was lost. In every sense of the word.


Sitting down in the snow, she pulled the jacket more firmly around herself and buried her face against her denim clad legs. Something warm and soft nuzzled her cheek and she looked up, brown eyes meeting gold. Up close, the panther was even more intimidating. She stiffened when it inched closer still and closed her eyes as its rough tongue ran up the side of her face, lapping twice at the tears on her cheek. It wasn’t until she felt a rush of dizziness that she realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled and reached up, rubbing the cat’s ear. It turned into her, rubbing whiskers against her wrist as it pushed at her palm. Two large paws found their way to her thigh and her eyes widened at how heavy the animal was.


A moment later, the cat moved across her lap, reclining on her legs. For a moment, she thought that it was trying to warm her body with its own, then it opened its mouth and let out an ear splitting roar that ended in a high pitched screaming sound. Callie’s hands flew to her ears and she fleetingly thought that she was dying right then, not by freezing, but by being eaten alive by a panther.


Moments later, she heard a shout and turned to see Jonesy rushing through the snow that she hadn’t realized was falling quite as hard as it was. She recognized him from his girth alone, as he was covered head to toe in a thick snowsuit. "Miss Callie!" he called. "Are you out here?"


"Over here!" she called, waving a hand. Achilles gave another roar and pushed himself to his feet, nuzzling her face as he went. She tried to rise, but wound up flat on her back, having tried to rise on a particularly slick patch of ice. It was Jonesy who wrenched her upright and he besieged her with question after question. Was she hurt? Was she okay? Had she forgotten her map? She rattled off every answer as he ‘dusted’ her jacket off with enough force to make her legs buckle.


"Blizzard’s comin’," he said, his massive hands making quick work of tying her hood under her chin.


She coughed, putting a finger under it to keep from choking. "You mean there wasn’t already a blizzard?"


He grinned at her. "No, ma’am. You just wait. Tomorrow you’ll wake up to four feet."


"Great. Do I have an electric blanket?" Making a face, she took the arm he offered and let him lead her through the swirling flakes. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a large, round building and the enticing scent of food and burning logs was enough to make her mouth water. Her skin tingled to be warmed in front of a roaring fire and when Jonesy opened the door, she gasped. It was easily the most comfortable and soothing room she had ever seen.


The largest fireplace she had ever witnessed in her life sat right in the middle of the room and it was roaring, the logs popping and crackling. She untied her hood and let Jonesy slip her jacket off, hanging it up in a nearby mudroom. She kept her snow boots on and stared at the people who were lining up for dinner. Taking a deep breath, she bit her bottom lip and tried to steady her nerves. It suddenly felt like the first day of school and she was the new kid with weird hair and a Louis Vuitton bookbag. Jonesy gave her a reassuring pat, but it was really a nudge. She moved forward and smiled at a woman with dark brown hair who was watching her closely. Extending a hand, Callie said, "Hi, I’m Callie."


"Amber Ramirez," the woman replied, grasping her hand firmly. "I’m in for alcohol and pain pills. How about you?"


"Alcohol and self loathing," Callie replied, smiling sadly. "It’s nice to meet you."


"Fresh meat!" said a black man who was clutching a sketch pad in one hand and busily tucking a charcoal pencil behind his ear with the other. "I’m Paris and that freak over there is Hannah." He pointed to a younger girl who blushed prettily and waved. "I’m in for alcohol and she’s in for abusing her My Little Pony beer bong too much."


"No, that’s Ange," Amber corrected. "Hannah’s in for sex and cocaine."


Callie raised a brow, appraising the innocent looking girl who had turned bright crimson. If the girl was twenty ... Callie would have been stunned. She stifled a chuckle when Paris handed her a plate and plopped a spoonful of macaroni onto it. "Are you the only guy here, Paris?"


"There are male counselors, but I’m the only male patient. I like it that way. It makes me in demand." He put a piece of chicken on her plate and grinned at her. "But I seem to be the big brother because none of these chicks dig me. Are you married?"


She flashed her rings at him and nodded. "Very happily, but I’m honored that you’d try."


"Damn." He ladled green beans onto her plate now, then used tongs to toss on some bread. With a wicked grin, he took it from her and said, "Thanks for holding this for me. I don’t want to get grease on my art."


Callie laughed now, shaking her head as he winked at her and hurried off to find a seat. Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned, her eyes widening. The girl that grinned up at her could have been her twin. Her long black hair was straight and shiny and her brown eyes were almond shaped, just like hers. She held out a plate and said, "I’m Ange. And you’re Callie, right?"


"I am," Callie replied, accepting her second plate of the day. "Is this for me or am I holding it for you?"


"It’s all you," Ange said with a wink. "Your cabin is next to mine. Amber’s is on the other side and Hannah is just down the hill."


"So you guys can walk me home? I got lost on the way here." Callie helped herself to the spread of food. "Not for nothing, I hate snow."


"Right there with you," Ange agreed. "Wanna sit with us?"


Callie nodded, grabbing a roll as she followed Ange to the table where the other two women were already eating. Their conversation was light, playful, and full of safe topics that ranged from estimates on the measurements of Jonesy's biceps to the fact that Paris appeared to be sketching them from three tables away. Callie eventually cleared her throat, looking around the room. "I thought there were seven patients."


Amber’s fork clattered to the table and Hannah reached over, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. Callie’s eyes met Ange’s, who said, "Sara dropped out today. Twenty three days in. And Cherra isn’t very sociable."


"She’s not?" Callie asked. "Why is that?"


"She’s a writer. So, she stays in her cabin most of the time. She’s been here two weeks and we’ve seen her about four times." Amber retrieved her fork and took a bite of her pasta. "Sara was a close friend of mine. I can’t believe she didn’t finish the program."


"Why didn’t she?" Callie queried softly. "I mean - if you don’t want to answer that -"


"The last few days are the toughest." Hannah tore off a piece of bread and nibbled on it. "That’s when you know that you’re about to get your wings and you’re either going to fly straight ... or ... you know ... into a brick wall."


Callie pondered that sentiment for the remainder of the night. She bundled up in her coat when it was time to leave and waited for her new friends to walk with her. They took their time gathering their belongings, which were minimal, and by the time they met her at the door, Callie felt like she had been standing there looking ridiculous for hours. Amber smiled as she pulled on her gloves and said, "You won’t be so eager to head back to your cabin tomorrow night."


"Not at all," Ange agreed.


The look on Callie’s face must have been enough to alarm Hannah, because she patted her on the arm. "Don’t worry. She only means that the nights are the hardest. When we’re in group or in one on one ... we have someone to talk to. When we’re in bed at night, though, it’s so lonely you can’t stand it. I talk into the cameras that are set up just in case someone out there is watching."


"How does that work?" Callie asked. "I mean, they mentioned the camera thing to me briefly. In fifteen days, I can film messages for my family?"


"Not just messages," Amber said. "You can let them see *anything*. Meetings, free time, the grounds, whatever you want. I make it a point to let my mother see me laughing. Bless her, she’s old and decrepit, but her heart’s in the right place and this has to be hard on her."


They made the walk back to the cabins in relative silence. Amber said good night first, trudging up the stairs with her shovel over her shoulder. Jonesy had retrieved Callie’s and she adjusted it when her own place came into view. "Do I really have to dig myself out?"


"Only if you want breakfast," Hannah offered, shivering. "Be careful on the steps. They can get pretty slick."


Gazing up at the small cabin, Callie suddenly felt the biggest, heaviest ball of despair she had ever felt in her life. This was one night of twenty nine that she would spend away from Alex. There would be no contact, no letters in the mail, no phone calls, no assurances that he would not leave her. He could already be gone. She didn’t say anything to the other two women as she made her way up the steps. Achilles was lying in the same spot he had been in earlier in the day and when she sobbed, he got to his massive feet and padded toward her. The second she opened the door, he darted past her and sat beside the rocking chair near the fireplace, watching her.


She loaded the grate with wood and lit it, opting to sit in the floor. Still dressed in her soggy coat, with the hood tied tightly beneath her chin, Callie curled into a fetal position and let the dam break. Achilles paced briefly, then settled beside her, his face inches from her own. He was still watching her when she finally drifted off to sleep and when she cried out during the night, the big cat would awaken, nuzzle her tear soaked cheeks, and wait patiently for the storm to pass before he closed his golden eyes again.


Before dawn, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his neck.


And Achilles purred with contentment.


*~*~*~*~*~


Irene answered the door on the fourth knock. She had been sleeping soundly and awoke with her heart pounding at the intensity of the knuckles on the door. Grabbing her robe, she hurried forward and peered outside, gasping when she saw her son. She pulled the door open and stared up at him. "Alex, what-"


"Get your things," he said, pushing past her. He didn’t wait for her and began to gather her belongings quickly. "We’re going home."


"But -"


"I don’t have time to explain," Alex snapped. "Grab your bags and let’s go."


Irene glanced at Cambyses, who gave her a curt nod. "What’s going on?"


"Where is Leon?" Cam asked quietly, gazing toward the shut bathroom door. "Is he here?"


"No." Irene shook her head. "He said he had a family emergency and needed to head out of town."


Alex turned in time to see the look on Cam’s face. "What?" he demanded.


"He must know that something’s going down," Cam replied, flipping open his phone. "He’s either going to Greece or running."


"Running?" Irene queried, her eyes wide. "What do you mean?"


"Did you see him before he left?" Cam asked.


She nodded, holding up her wrist where an oversized gold watch glistened in the light. "He came by to give me a birthday present."


Alex cringed. He had forgotten his own mother’s birthday.


Cam did not cringe. Stepping forward, he held out his hand and said, "May I?"


Looking confused, Irene nodded. She unfastened the clasp and held the watch out to him. She opened her mouth to ask him if he liked it, but the words were replaced with a gasped shock.


Cambyses hit the watch against the wall, sending pieces flying. Bending down, he clucked his tongue. "Smart bastard."


"What?" Alex stopped shoving articles of clothes into a garbage bag.


Stepping on one of the larger pieces, Cam said, "That was a voice recorder. And this," there was another crunch, "was a camera."


Irene had put both hands over her mouth as she watched the beautiful watch being mangled. She lowered them slowly now, trembling. "Someone please explain this to me!"


"Leon is a bad guy. Very bad. He’s been responsible for quite a few deaths and he’s wanted by the CIA as we speak." Cam tossed the watch into the trash, brushing his hands together as if it were dirty. "Plus, he has shitty taste in jewelry. That was enough tacky to make me want to cry."


The only person who cried was Irene.


And it was Cam who eventually put his arm around her and led her out to the car.


Alex appeared to be unfazed by his mother’s broken heart.


*~*~*~*~*~*


Raphael and Melana had sat on the sofa in silence, gazing at the website that would hold Callie’s postings until the laptop eventually hibernated. When the whirring of the fan stopped, Raphael cleared his throat. "How hard did you hit her?"


Mel continued to gaze at the open monitor. "Hard."


"And did you apologize?"


"Immediately."


Turning on the sofa, Raphael leveled her with an icy glare. "For the past couple of weeks you have lashed out at me physically, verbally, and emotionally. And I deserved that, mi vida, because I hurt you, but we’re even now. You may have hit *her*, but you betrayed *me*. Don’t you ever, *ever* strike my daughter again or so help me God ... we’re through."


Mel’s eyes narrowed. "*Your* daughter!? Excuse me while I try to recall *your* labor pains or the many times *you* stayed awake when she had colic or *you* paced the floor with her when she was teething. Oh! That’s right! You didn’t do *any* of those things! You were absent until *I* made you choose between your commitment to your children or the CIA!"


"We’re not going to fight!" Raphael growled. "I’ve had enough fighting to last a lifetime!"


"Then stop throwing my mistakes in my face! You aren’t exactly innocent!"


"I said we’re even. So it’s done. We won’t speak of it again and luckily I don’t hold grudges." Raphael reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It was a move he always made when he was uptight. Her hair, the texture and the smell, could usually calm him immediately. This was no exception. "Cambyses resigned. I saw to it that it was accepted."


She nodded, giving herself over to the tears that had been threatening to fall.


Raph caught one with his thumb. "Blake didn’t take it very well. I’m fairly certain I heard him say that Cam could go and ‘fuck himself’."


"They broke up?" Melana gasped. "Oh, god. That’s the last thing he needs. Although ... if Blake isn’t coming for Thanksgiving ... then perhaps I can stay out of jail. I had every intention of strangling his neck for enticing my son into that lifestyle!"


Raph made a face. "Cambyses was gay long before -"


"I happen to be referring to the CIA," Mel corrected. "I made peace with the homosexuality a long time ago. It’s part of who is and I wouldn’t change one hair on his head. Well, maybe I’d trim it a little, but -"


"You wouldn’t change a thing, huh?"


"No, I wouldn’t. I love him as he is."


"Perhaps you should ask to see him shirtless."


"Why?"


"He has more ink than a printing press."


"WHAT!?"


"Tattoos. All over his torso. Too many to count."


"Raphael, you’re going to have to leave me ... because I am going to beat his ass!"

______
CH 25
Mark wriggled behind the steering wheel, sucking in his own stomach as if it could help him reduce the magnitude of the pregnant one. Beside him, Addison was busy pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. Her face was devoid of makeup, she was wearing an oversized Yankees hoodie, and he knew he would die if he didn't kiss her. Leaning over the console, he gripped the back of her head and did just that. "I love you," he said quietly.

"I'm still not speaking to you."

"You're not sleeping with me either. You’re on the couch and I don't like that." Mark ran his hand over her leg. "I'm sorry about Callie leaving."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"It’s the right decision, baby. Her leaving, I mean. Anything could have happened to her."

"Start the car."

"She-"

"Mark, I have a patient in labor and I realize that you have NO clue what that entails since you are only pregnant when it's convenient, but her contractions are four minutes apart so I need to get to the hospital. Okay? Thanks."

"Newsflash ... I am not pregnant at ALL."

"Are we going or am I calling a cab?"

Mark stared at her for a second longer, then started the engine. "I can not believe you. This little game was all your idea and you'll have to forgive me if I didn't really think that I should have gone to see Callie off in a big pregnancy suit. It was a little more serious than that."

"You said you would wear it for two weeks."

"This is stupid!" Mark crunched down the gravel driveway and turned onto the road. "I get it! Your feet are going to swell, your back will ache, your tits will sag and -"

"Can you not talk?"

"Communication is important for newlyweds."

"I have no problem being a single mother."

Stunned, he ran off the road, nearly taking out a speed limit sign. He quickly corrected the wheel, causing the car to swing wilding for a split second. "Don’t threaten me," he growled, when they were back on track.

"Stop the car, Mark."

He didn't ask why. He was nauseated from the motion of the car as well. When she darted onto the shoulder beside Callie's mailbox to vomit, he slowly pulled himself from the vehicle thinking that the jaws of life may be needed to tug his massive girth from the seat. By the time he got to her side, Alex was there, having seen her as he was leaving for work.

And just like that, Addison decided to ride in with Alex, leaving Mark standing slack jawed and *pregnant* beside a mound of vomit that should have been his all things considered.

******

"What are you wearing?" Meredith demanded, looking Cristina head to toe. "Pink crocs! Seriously!?"

Cristina picked up a chart and moved it in front of her. "Shut up."

"Oh my God!" Izzie cried, drawing to a halt next to Meredith. She also appraised Cristina from top to bottom, then burst out laughing. "Teddy bear scrubs! Seriously!?"

George, who walked up behind Cristina, shielded his eyes. "Too. Much. Cute. May. Go. Blind."

Alex dropped a chart on the counter beside George, glanced at the outfit and smirked. "So *that* is why everyone thinks Yang is giving up cardio for kids."

"She’s not a Yang. She’s a Burke now," Meredith teased, reaching out to fluff the lacy collar of Cristina's scrubs. "A very pink, very scary Burke."

"I hate you all!" Cristina said, leveling each with an icy glare. "Is it not enough that my mother in law sucks up my dignity like a Dyson? You people have to point out the obvious!?"

Alex patted her on the back, then wrinkled his nose. "Good God, they're velvet!"

Naturally, everyone had to feel for themselves. Cristina took the petting for what it was and sank her elbow into George's belly when he lingered, pressing his cheek to her shoulder. "Leave me alone!"

Hands went up in surrender as they backed off. Cristina stopped her friends before they were three feet away. "Alex, can you find Addison and ask her to meet the AWC in the second floor resident lounge?"

"The AWC?" Alex asked.

"Angry Woman Club!" the three women hissed as one.

"Jesus," he said, shaking his head. "You have an acronym now?"

"We are that important," Izzie said. "Hey, how's Callie?"

Alex didn't reply immediately. He didn't know *how* to reply at all. The only blog from her had been positive and upbeat, but he knew better. He finally shrugged, uncomfortable. "She's okay. I'll go find Addison."

Izzie watched him walk down the hall, frowning. "She may be okay, but he's not."

"Of course he's not," Meredith replied. "He's a newlywed without his wife."

"She needed to go," Cristina said, wrapping her white lab coat tighter around her body when she heard several people chuckle as they walked past. "She needs help."

Meredith nodded, then her eyes widened. "Mama! Incoming!"

Cristina swore fluently, then turned with the fakest smile ever mustered on her face. Jane Burke was sailing toward her in heels, a pin striped suit, and wore a gleeful look on her face as her eyes took in her daughter in law's appearance. With the haughty air of an aristocrat, Jane drew to a stop and looked down her nose at Cristina. "I see you're wearing the scrubs."

"Yes," Cristina nodded once. "I am."

Jane cut her eyes over at Izzie and Meredith, who looked away. "Why are you wearing them?"

"Uh, because you gave them to me?"

One corner of Mama's mouth quirked slightly. "When I was first married, my mother in law gave me an atrocious table lamp that made me want to cry when I looked at it. But I still kept it on the table for her benefit. I resented it. I resented her. One day I decided that I was not going to change for anyone so I took that lamp into the back yard, set fire to it, and watched it burn." Jane held up a small bag. "I didn't know that light blue was the norm for scrubs. I never paid attention and I should have. So, I've rectified that." Jane grinned. "You will also find matches and lighter fluid in the bag."

Cristina accepted it, peering inside. Sure enough, there were regulation scrubs and pyromaniac tools inside. "Thank you."

"You look quite hideous," Jane replied, bursting out with laughter. "But I appreciate the fact that you didn't want to hurt my feelings. Now, I’m going to find my son. He is insisting on cooking Thanksgiving dinner and I want to help. You’re on a double, correct?"

"I am." Cristina gave her a nod. "But that’s not really a bad thing because I can’t cook."

Jane winked at her. "Well, luckily for you, my son can. And we’ll make sure you have dinner this evening, okay?"

"Thanks."

Izzie and Meredith both turned and watched Mama walk down the hall. Izzie spoke first, when the older woman was out of earshot. "Don’t eat it. It’ll be poisoned."

"Maybe she’s had a change of heart," Meredith said, her hands on her slim hips. When Mama turned and looked over her shoulder at them, acknowledging that she knew they were watching, she hastily added, "Izzie’s right. Don’t eat it."

"Alex said you needed me." Addison arrived looking flushed and out of sorts. "Is everything okay?"

"Well, actually -" Cristina began.

Addison did a double take on Cristina, her eyes wide. "Oh my god! Why are you wearing *that*?"

"Asks the owner of *salmon* scrubs," Cristina shot back. "I’m going to change."

Chuckling, Addison watched her depart, then turned her head when she heard her husband’s voice. He was standing at the end of the hallway talking to Chief Webber and he had lost roughly fifty pounds. The pregnancy belly was nowhere to be seen and she saw red. With her nostrils flaring, Addy stalked down the hallway and slapped him on the shoulder. "You ass!"

"Whoa!" Richard grabbed her hand before she could hit her husband again. "Do I need to remind you that this is a hospital?"

"Where is it!?" Addy demanded. "I’m going to choke you with the tits!"

"Richard said I can’t wear it." Holding up his hands in surrender, Mark hastily added, "I wanted to, though! I argued my case valiantly!"

"You don’t know the meaning of that word!" She accused, rounding on Webber. "Why can’t he wear it!?"

"Because it’s distracting the patients," Richard told her. "Not to mention compromising Dr. Sloan’s quality of work. It gets in the way and I won’t have my patients put at risk over a bet, Addison, because -"

"I’m sorry!" Addison snapped, her voice rising several octaves. "Did you actually just say that being pregnant gets in the way and compromises quality of work."

"Oh god," Mark mumbled, nudging Richard. "You just stepped in it."

"Shut up!" Addison growled, still staring at the Chief. "I cannot believe you would make such a sexist and -"

"Whoa!" Richard gripped her upper arm, pulling her into the nearest on call room. "What is wrong with the two of you? I demand to know!"

"He called me fat!"

"I did not!"

"You most certainly did! After you announced to the hospital that I’m pregnant!"

"This right here," Richard interjected, "is why I don’t condone fraternization."

"Oh hell, Chief!" Mark cried, gesturing around them. "This isn’t a hospital! It’s an orgy! Everybody screws everybody and some of them get married and some of them," he glared at Addison, "go crazy right when they do!"

"Callie was having problems BEFORE she got married," Addison fired back.

"I wasn’t talking about her!" Mark snapped.

"You better not be talking about ME!"

"If the shoe fits!"

Addison’s face suddenly matched her hair. "You know what!? You’re uninvited to Melana’s dinner! Don’t you dare show up there tonight or so help me God -"

"You cannot uninvite me! Only SHE can and SHE loves me whether you do or not!"

"Let’s see how warm that love keeps you when you’re on the sofa!"

"You can’t do that either!"

"Watch me!"

Addison stormed out of the room and Richard patted Mark on the back, saying, "And *that* is why Adele and I never had kids. Formerly sane women become ... *that*."

*~*~*~*~

"I know you didn’t mean it."

Cam, who had been sitting on the deck, shivering despite his warm coat, turned and looked up at his mother. "Do what?"

"What you said on the video ... I know you didn’t mean it, son. And she knows that, too."

"Did she say that?"

"No, baby, she didn’t."

"Oh."

"Would you mind if I joined you for a while?"

"Not at all."

Melana accepted the hand he held out to aid her as she sank to the cold planks and let her legs dangle over the edge beside his. He put his arm around her, holding her close to his side. She leaned her head against his strong shoulder and said, "When I think about everything that could have happened to you-"

"Nothing did," Cambyses replied. "The most dangerous thing that I ever experienced was Montezuma's Revenge. It kept me holed up in a bathroom in Prague for about twelve hours. And bathrooms in Prague have rats the size of house cats. I kept screaming and not from the pain. I would have climbed the wall if I hadn’t been doubled up from bad food."

She laughed, not lifting her head. "It’s nice to see that the CIA didn’t harden you. You used to climb the wall when you saw a domesticated house cat, too. I really think that’s why you started walking at eight months old. Your grandmother’s cat came into the room and you took off."

"At eight months?"

Mel nodded. "And you were pulling your sister in her walker while you went. Even that little ... you looked out for her. I’d feed you both off the same spoon and you would never go first. You’d watch and only when she had gotten a bite would you open your mouth and accept one. The only time you’d cry was when she was out of your sight. If I had to change her diaper or had her in the bathtub, you’d scream until you were red in the face and she’d start to cry the second she heard you. I finally realized that as long as you could hear each other you were fine so I’d put you in a car seat and sit you on the toilet while I bathed her and then she’d go into the seat while I bathed you and you two would make little sounds that kept you calm."

Mel sat up and took his hand. "That’s why she doesn’t have to tell me that she knows you didn’t mean it. And I can promise you that she’s more sorry for hitting you over it than you are for it happening to begin with."

"She didn’t hit me, Mom, she kicked my ass."

"There is that."

"You know what the weirdest thing is?" Cam asked.

"If you tell me you enjoyed it I’m going back into the house and locking the door."

"I’m *proud* of her for it. I’m *proud* of her for loving our family enough that she would do that to me. I’m *proud* that she stood up for herself and for you and Dad." He took a deep breath. "I’m also destroyed that she could believe for one second that I’d do those things because she knows me better than anyone ever has, but -"

"Sweetheart, for the past few weeks Callie has heard about betrayal twenty four hours a day. I ranted about your father for hours on end and she had to listen to it. Then I turned the tables on her and ranted about her helping your father betray me so that’s fresh in her head. Deep down, she probably knew that there was more to it than she was seeing, but in that moment, just like I did with Raphael, all she saw was you not including her in a huge portion of your life. *That*, more than anything you said on that tape, is what caused her to kick your ass."

"She did the same thing to me with Dad and FMC. She never *once* told me anything. She didn’t include me."

"But there is a difference."

"I don’t see one."

"Don’t you?" Melana brushed his hair off his forehead. "You joined the CIA knowing exactly what you were getting into. Callie had no clue. She was a *child* who was forced into a world that terrorized her so much that she had to drink to erase it for a while. The difference is that you’re sitting here today none the worse for wear. You’re okay. She’s not. And the reason she didn’t tell you is very simple. If that life hurt *her* so much ... she wouldn’t have let you near it. As protective as you are of her ... she’s a million times worse with you. You may have walked first, Cam, but she walked faster and made sure you’re path was clear with every step she took."

Neither spoke for a while.

Neither had to.

It was Cam who broke the silence after a while. "Do you forgive Dad?"

"Sometimes."

"What does that mean?"

"I’m *angry* at him, but love is a stronger emotion. I’m furious at what he did to her and to me, but that fury comes and goes like a tide when I look at him. He’s my husband. He’s still the man who can take my breath with a smile." She studied her son’s profile and felt her eyes well with tears. "And I lost seven years with you because I couldn’t let go of anger. I won’t make that mistake again."

"Those seven years sucked."

"Tell me about it."

He hugged her against him again. "We should have more chats like this, Mom. I feel about a hundred pounds lighter."

"Forgiveness runs in our genes, baby. We’re living proof of that and when Callie comes home ... you’ll see."

"I pray that you’re right."

"Did you just say that you *pray*?"

"Maybe."

"I’m going to die from shock." She leaned her head against his chest. "But this would be a great way to go."

*~*~*~*~

Cambyses sat next to Stavros who had taken up the job as ‘refresher’ of Callie’s blog with aplomb. He listened as his older brother sighed and met Loukas’s eyes, giving him one single shake of his head. So far, nothing had been written. The Torres men had walked around Callie’s house all day, busying themselves with Melana’s orders for arranging the long dinner tables in the living room, helping lift the large turkey into the oven, and keeping the fireplace stoked with wood as fresh snow had begun to dust the yard. The fact that Callie was not going to miraculously show up didn’t hit them like a sledge hammer until Alex arrived home from work with Addison in tow. They were used to Callie arriving late in Miami for Thanksgiving and had grown accustomed to teasing her into oblivion when she said that she was too tired to help clean. They usually wrestled her into the kitchen and pinned her to the sink until she relented and helped with the dishes. And it was perfect.

Today was far from perfect, however.

No elaborate spread of food or garish centerpieces could erase the fact that she wasn’t there.

Alex hung his jacket on the hook and glanced at the laptop. "Anything?"

"Not yet." Cam had said those same words to Alex every single time he had called home that day and it split his heart in half every time he heard his brother in law ask if he was sure. And Alex had asked. Every single time.

Addison walked to the fire, holding her hands out. "She hates the snow. Do - do you think they gave her warmer clothes?"

Cam got to his feet and put an arm around her. "I’m sure they did. I mean, it’s in her medical records that she’s from Miami so they know that she’s got sunshine in her veins."

Alex sat down in the spot that Cam had vacated, staring at the screen, which he refreshed himself. The only post was from the previous day. He ran a hand over his face, still gazing at the monitor. It wasn’t until his mother walked out of the kitchen carrying a large bowl of potato salad that he looked away from the screen at all. She was wearing a nice pair of dress slacks with a sweater that he had never seen before. It had Melana written all over it. She had undoubtedly taken pity on Irene and made sure that she was dressed nicely for their dinner. He nodded at her when she greeted him, but didn’t reply.

Irene rubbed her bony hands together and said hello to Addison, who had turned crimson.

"I’m sorry," Addison said by way of hello. "I shouldn’t have punched you ... even though you pretty much had it coming and Melana was too much of a lady to do it even though you had insulted her heritage. I’m still sorry. So, it doesn’t need to be weird and I only have so much capacity for violence and my husband has taken all my reserves. Okay?"

Irene cut her eyes over at Alex, who had to hide his smile. "Okay. I think. I, uh, need to go check the bread."

Raphael came down the hallway and looked at Alex expectantly. His face fell when he saw the answer. "What kind of rehab doesn’t let the patients talk to their family!? Especially during the holidays!"

"An overpriced artsy one probably." Stavros grimaced. "This sucks."

"I could track her down." Raphael stared off into space. "I-"

"Dad, in case you have repressed the fact that you pissed off the CIA then let me be the first to remind you that they're pissed. At you. Not me." Cam shrugged when his father glared at him. "It sucks to be you."

"Call Blake and tell him to locate her," Stavros suggested. "I mean, he stayed in the CIA, right?"

"We're not talking." Cam had stopped smiling and now crossed his arms pensively. "It sucks to be me too."

Loukas rolled his eyes. "It's so nice to know that our country is protected by such idiots. Jesus Christ, Cam-"

"LOUKAS!" Mel cam out of the kitchen, spatula in hand, which she pointed at her middle child. "You can't say Jesus Christ today!"

Louk blinked. "Uh, why?"

"It is Thanksgiving!" Mel declared. "Do you not smell the turkey?"

"This isn't a religious holiday," Cam interjected. "If Louk had said Native American instead of Jesus Christ *then* you could go off and -"

"I am Melana Torres! I don't need a reason to go off! You'd be wise to remember that!" She lifted a brow. "You boys get to that kitchen and finish dinner! And if one thing burns then your backsides will as well!"

"What about Alex?" Loukas demanded. "Is he helping?"

"He has worked all day. Now get!" Mel held out the spatula to Stavros, who risked his backside to lean in and give her a kiss. She grinned at him, tugged his hair and watched him lead her other two boys to the kitchen. She put an arm around Addy's shoulder and said, "Why do you look so sad? Not all twins are like mine. Although, I'd say they're still a blessing."

"I miss Callie," Addy replied. "I need her advice."

"Where do you think she gets her advice, Angel?" Melana smiled at the redhead. "You want to come help me pick out a necklace to wear to dinner."

Addison nodded, glancing at Alex and Raph who were watching the laptop as if it were a portkey and Callie was going to pop out of it. She sighed and headed down the hall, where she took a seat next to Mel on the bed. "I'm mad at Mark."

"Because of the pregnancy suit?"

"Because of the pregnancy."

Melana did a good job of hiding her shock. "You don't want the babies?"

"No, I do," Addison assured her. "But I want Mark to be someone that I'm not sure he can be."

"Who's that?"

"A father. A good one. You know, I made him wait a long time to marry me because a part of me didn't expect him to follow through. That would have destroyed me, but it wouldn't have killed me. Seeing my kids shuffled back and forth on the weekends or having him lose interest once the new wears off ... that *will* kill me."


Mel put a hand to her chest. "Let me ask you a serious question. Was Mark a husband when you married him?"

"Uhhh, no. He's a lot of things but he's not a polygamist."

"And is he a good husband?"

"You know ... he is." Addison met her eyes. "But it's not the same thing. We've been married a nanosecond compared to the eighteen years a kid takes."

"Well, before you got married ... was he a good friend?"

"To me?"

"To anyone."

"Well, no. I mean, he did sleep with his best friend's wife and -"

"And yet," Melana interrupted. "He still postponed a major surgery to come here and hold my hand when Callie left. She didn't invite him here. It was my idea because I needed someone to hold me together and that husband of yours has not chosen a side, has supported everyone equally, and he put his arms around me in a way that was comforting and steadying. If you ask me, he has every quality that a good father has and several that will make him a GREAT father. Do you know what the most important one is?"

Addy, whose eyes had filled with tears, shook her head.

Melana brushed her hair back and lifted her chin. "He loves the mother of his children. You don't know how much yet, but I swear to you ... the first time he sees his baby and then looks at you ... you are going to see a million things in his face. You'll see gratitude for giving him a legacy. You'll see adoration like you've never seen and you will see a man standing there with his arms stretched out to hold his creation ... a man trembling harder than you did during the worst of the pain. And in that moment ... you won't doubt him at all."

Melana waited for a response and when it didn't come, she pulled a necklace from her purse and secured it around her neck. "As for the pregnancy suit, honey, being pregnant is yours. That's something special that Mark can't experience. That suit won't make him feel the baby kick from the inside or understand heartburn and what it's like for your bladder to shrink to the size of a thimble. Those are YOUR secrets that you can share with him or not, but don't punish him for not knowing what to expect. He didn't marry a mother so this is all new for him, too."

"You know what I don't get," Addison said, her eyes never leaving Mel's. "Is how Callie can have the kind of problems she has when she has a mom like you."

Melana turned her head to look at a newspaper clipping that she had pulled from her purse earlier in the day. The photo was taken mere days before the World Trade Center was hit. The Torres family had hosted a benefit for a young cancer victim who lacked medical insurance. Melana had insisted that Callie fly out and sing and Callie agreed on the condition that Cam was invited. Cam had agreed immediately when Melana extended the invitation, but she had avoided him the entire night. The photo was the only family shot she had from the years she was estranged from her son and Mel had carried it in her purse since the day she clipped it from the paper. Picking it up, she ran her fingertip over Callie's cheek. "I haven't always been a good mother."

"Well, I find that hard to believe."

"I hit her. The other night." Melana didn't meet Addison's gaze. "So help me God, I hit her with everything in me and I heard her heart break, but felt it in mine. But I don't think it shocked her ... because I've been hard on her, I've judged her, I've condemned her, and I've called her names. I have hurt her in every other way so I think she expected me to slap her because I've already done everything else." Mel looked down at her right palm. "I don't feel like this is my hand anymore. I look at it and all I see is her face."

"Callie knows you love her. She knows that you want the best for her, Mel. She *knows*. There’s a reason why she chose you to be here with her instead of anyone else when it was time to go." Addison reached over and took the other woman’s hand. "And you *should* see her face when you look at your hand. That’s the hand that raised her, that soothed her, and dried her tears. All the best things in her are just a reflection of you."

There was a light knock at the door and Melana hastily dried her eyes. "Come in."

Mark stepped into the room, looking sheepish and very pregnant in the suit again. "Addison uninvited me. Can you please do something about that, Mel?"

Melana sighed. "What I can do is forbid either one of you from leaving this room until you fix this mess. We’re already missing a very important person tonight so if you two idiots don’t value that you’re here, you have each other, and you’re going to have a family then neither of you can eat with us. Your mouths will be too full of my fists to do so."


Mark held up his hands as Melana walked past. She patted him on the chest and gave him a reassuring wink. Bolstered, he closed the door behind the woman and said, "Look, I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Addison. I just - I don’t. So ... you tell me what you need from me and I’ll do it."

Addison bit her bottom lip, studying the belly he wore. Cocking her head to one side, she wrinkled her nose. "You look ridiculous."

"Well, it’s a small price to pay to have to talk to me again." He sat beside her on the bed, groaning the entire way down. "For what it’s worth ... you won’t have to ask me to give you a massage. This sucks."

She watched as he pulled up his pants leg to show her his ankle, which was swollen over his tennis shoe. With a gasp, she put a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god."

"I know, right? Do you feel bad for me yet?"

"No, I just feel sorry." She looked up at him. "I’m really, really sorry about the past few days."

His eyes widened. Feeling her forehead, he said, "Well, you don’t have a fever. So -"

"I’m apologizing. Can you just accept it without the commentary?"

"I guess it depends."

"On what?"

"Don’t apologies usually come with kisses?"

"I don’t think so. I just apologized to Irene for punching her in the face. I wouldn’t kiss *that* with *your* lips."

He laughed, putting a hand on her leg. "I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have announced it at the hospital the way I did. I was just proud. I wanted everyone to know right then. I should have waited."

She smiled at him. "This making up thing would be better if we were at home. Something tells me Melana’s mom sensor would go off if we got frisky."

"Please, baby, promise me you’ll get a mom sensor. We need to know what these kids are doing at all times. They have my genes. ‘Nuff said."

Addison glanced down at his denim clad legs. "I dunno. Your jeans are pretty damn nice if you ask me."

"You know, it’s a good thing I have this stomach on. Otherwise you’d see how tight they’ve suddenly gotten in the crotch."

"About that," she replied, reaching over to press her palm against the belly. "Why don’t you take it off and put it back in the car. We’ll take it back to the hospital tomorrow."

"We should burn it." Mark got to his feet, pulling off his shirt and turning so she could help him with the many velcro straps.

Cambyses chose that moment to stroll in unannounced. One saggy breast of the pregnancy suit was resting on Addison’s head and she had a handful of the other one as she groped for the underarm strap. He made a face. "And they say that *gay* people are perverted and weird. Mark, if you’re into cross-dressing -"

"I’m not." Mark finally ripped the suit off and reached for his shirt, yanking it over his head. It billowed around him since it was three sizes too big. "Shit."

"Put a belt on it and call it a dress," Cam advised. "I think Callie has a rhinestone one that would look great with your eyes."

"You are this close," Mark said, holding up his fingers a millimeter apart, "to getting your ass kicked."

"Or you could tie it at the waist," Cam continued, undaunted. "You know, that’s a nice set of abs you have. What? I’m single now."

Addison got to her feet, looking shocked. "Where’s Blake? Cam, what happened?"

"He’s loved the CIA a lot longer than he’s loved me. I can’t hold it against him, you know?"

"He broke up with you?" Addy shook her head. "But - you guys have been together for *years*."

"Yeah," he nodded. "We have. And when I reminded him of that he said that we had *years* to go in the CIA and if I walked away from it ... I was walking away from him." Cam laughed, shaking his head. "And the truly ironic part is that I left the CIA thinking that it would make Callie forgive me, but she’s not here and I don’t know if she ever will."

"She will." Addison assured him. "I know her."

Cam watched as Mark tried in vain to tuck the tent he wore into his pants. "You want one of my shirts? We’re about the same size."

"Oh god, you’re a saint," Mark said. "But that doesn’t mean we’re dating.’

"Your arrogance is a turn off." Cam grinned. "What’s your poison? You can choose from black, black, black, and possibly a very festive maroon with, wait for it, black stripes."

"Black’s fine," Mark replied. He watched as Cambyses left the room and looked at Addison. "Dinner should be very, very fun."

"Of course it will. We’re with our family.

After Mark worked on the fire in the fireplace and finally made it roar to life, everyone found a seat. The chair that should have been Callie’s was left empty between Addison and Alex and when Melana insisted that someone should pray, they joined hands over it. Raphael cleared his throat, ready to speak, but it was Cambyses who said, "Uh ... bow your heads. I’ve got this one."

"Jesus Christ," Loukas murmured, pulling his hand from Cam’s.

"What did I tell you about saying that!?" Melana snapped.

"When he gets struck by lightning -"

"Louk," Raphael warned, tightening his grip on Cam’s other hand. He looked down the table at Melana, who was watching their youngest child curiously. "Go ahead, son."

Cam bowed his head, closing his eyes. Silence stretched over the dinner table for close to a full minute before Cam spoke. "Uh, I’m probably the last person you expected to hear from today, God, so I’ll try to hold your interest and keep it brief. It’s Thanksgiving. I could pray for the Indians, who were stripped of their land and villainized in old Westerns, but I won’t do that today. Even though we may not feel very thankful at the moment ... we all should be. Alex and Callie survived the explosion. Mark and Addison are having twins, which I can vouch for as being the coolest thing ever, Stavros and Loukas haven't gotten much uglier since last year, Mom and Dad are able to be in a room without trying to murder each other, and I'm gay, which let's face it, is the only way to be. So, even though Callie isn't here ...we can say thank you and mean it ... because we are. But if you could maybe help her every change you get ... that wouldn't suck. Amen."

Everyone murmured ‘amen’ as well, except Loukas.

"I’m not saying amen to that!" he said. "You’re not supposed to insult people with prayer!"

"You insult Jesus ever time you take his name in vain!" Melana told Loukas. "Now say ‘amen’ before I pull your tongue out. I cooked sweet potatoes for you and I refuse to let you enjoy them until you say it!"

"Amen!" Loukas snapped, glaring across the table at Cam. "Freak."

"Geek," Cam shot back, helping himself to a generous portion of said sweet potatoes. "Mmmmm. I hope there’s enough left for you, Louk, you handsome challenged bastard."

"You’re gonna be walking with a limp after dinner, troll."

"It ain’t nothing but a short walk over here, repulsive gnome."

"Could we please have a dinner with normal conversation?" Raphael asked.

"He’s just jealous because I’m insanely good looking and can add ‘secret agent man’ to my resume." Cam winked at his brother. "All he can add is ‘ugly all day’."


Their banter kept everyone entertained as dish after dish was passed around the table.

When everyone’s plate was full, Melana lifted her glass and said, "To Callie. May she feel the love that we so obviously have for one another ... wherever she is."

"Hear hear!" Stavros said, clinking his glass.

"I could find her. It wouldn’t take long," Raphael reminded everyone for the millionth time.

"Dad!" Cam shook his head. "The CIA *still* hates you. If you called their number and they had caller ID, they would shoot the phone."

Addison cleared her throat. "But we could contact the facility and just *see* if she’s-"

"Leave her alone," Alex said. It was the first time he had spoken for the most part and every eye found his face. Absently pushing his dinner around on his plate, he added, "Callie never really asks for anything. Never. She asked for this, though, and we’re going to give it to her. So, leave her alone. Don’t try to find her, don’t try to contact the facility, just let her do this." His eyes locked on Raph’s. "She gave up her childhood for you so you need to let her go find those pieces that she lost. Leave. Her. Alone."

"Damn," Cambyses said, looking impressed. "If you weren’t married to my sister I’d -"


"Don’t finish that," Stavros snapped. "I’ll have to defend Callie’s honor and kick your ass."

"And I’ll help him because you flirted with me," Mark added. "You need a boyfriend. Stat."

"Volunteering?" Cam asked.

"I’ll skip kicking your ass and go straight into slicing you open," Addison told Cam, her eyes twinkling.

Melana nodded her approval. "Nicely phrased, Addison. Cambyses, if you don’t stop with this sexual innuendo at the dinner table I’ll force you to go eat in the closet."

"Not gonna work. I’m flaming. I’m so out of the closet that I don’t even have one."

Melana grinned at him. "I, for one, am very proud of that fact, honey."

Cam chuckled. "Me, too. It’s why I have a nice big tattoo - uh - who wants gravy?"

Raphael cleared his throat suddenly. "Melana, have you seen our son’s many, many tattoos?"

The smile on Mel’s face had been replaced with a look very reminiscent of a bull right before it charged. "I had repressed that, apparently. Cam, would you like to show us the tattoos that you are so proud of?"

"Stavros has four," Cam blurted. "And Loukas has one because he’s an infant who cried the entire time it was being put on his ass."

Loukas scooted his chair away from his mother’s striking range. "It was a dare."

"Well, *I* dare you to bare it and share it." Melana glared at her child. "Go on. Show it."

"Oh God, please," Alex said, shaking his head. "I’m trying to eat."

"It matches his face. It’s ugly, too," Cam told Alex. "He got a freakin’ Mac logo on his left cheek. An *apple*."

Laughing felt like the last possible thing for Alex, but he managed. And it felt good. Callie wasn’t there, but her family was and he heard her in everything they said. Because he was her partner, her *husband*, he joined the conversation and said the things he thought she would have said. When their dinner ended ... Alex didn’t feel nearly as lonely as he had at the beginning. He felt surrounded by the people that loved his wife as much as he did ... and they helped him more than he ever imagined. The empty seat beside him no longer felt like the elephant in the room.

He knew that they each carried enough of Callie in them to fill it a million times over.

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie's first full day of rehab was not hampered by the fact that it was Thanksgiving. She met with one therapist after another, answering invasive questions and trying not to cringe too much when she admitted that she had intentionally poisoned herself with alcohol. The news was met with a sympathetic nod each time she told the tale. She had recounted it so often that she had it memorized. Nothing was hidden. In that moment, when she had walked into the liquor store, she wanted to die. By the time she made it to the last session of the day, her resolve was crumbling and she spent thirty minutes of the remaining two hours sobbing like a baby. Alicia, who owned and operated Freedom Ridge, had patted her hand and simply listened to everything Callie said ... and didn't say.

When the two hours ended, Callie understood why she had been put on the emotional roller coaster ride all day. Alicia *expected* the reality to burst the dam and the way she handled Callie's hysteria was professional and reassuring. Knowing she was in good hands was a relief and Callie needed relief.

She also needed food so she headed to the main hall in search of Thanksgiving dinner. She wasn't disappointed by the spread, but she closed her eyes anyway, imagining the centerpieces Melana had already ordered and the Greek dessert that Cam always begged for.

"Are you wondering the same thing I am?" Amber asked, picking up a fork to poke the turkey.

"I don't know," Callie replied. "What are you wondering?"

"Well, this place rehabilitates animals, right?"

"Right."

"So, the animals that we eat ... are they former patients who didn't mainstream back into society ... or what?"

Callie made a horrified face. "Thanks for *that*!"

"Hey, we're taught to share. Now my thoughts are yours." Amber grinned. "Want some turkey?"

It wasn't until Callie had picked her way through the falling snow with Achilles at her heels and returned to her cabin that she realized no one had said Happy Thanksgiving. Amber had been the only one in the dining room, but she had taken her dinner to the rocking chair nearest the fireplace to eat alone. Reaching down now, Callie stroked the panther’s head and followed him up the steps to her cabin. Inside, she loaded wood into the fireplace and slumped on the bed, gazing at the flames. Being alone on a holiday sucked, she decided. Rolling onto her side, she looked at the writing desk in the corner and gasped. She had not updated her blog and her family was probably frantic.

Leaping to her feet, she powered up and scraped the chair back. Once she logged in and put her fingers on the keyboard, she realized that she had no idea what to say. Frowning, she stared at the blank text box. She could go the upbeat and positive route and make sure that no one had trouble digesting their dinner and for a second she was tempted to write about the snow, Achilles, and turkey, but then she realized that Alex would see through that. And if he was still there and had not left her ... she owed him more than a weather report.

Taking a deep breath, she began typing.

"Sorry this update is so late in the day. This is literally the first moment I've had to collect my thoughts and string words into sentences for you. I'm not going to lie, today has been hard. I haven't earned 'free' time yet. We don't earn free time, which is leisure time to draw, write, listen to music or whatever, until we clock forty hours of therapy. I knocked down eight hours today. Or maybe it knocked me down, depending on your view. I really didn't know how screwed up I was until the sixth hour and then it hit like a ton of bricks all at once. I'm a mess.

"I talked about myself all day and saw a million things in me that make me sick. I'm trying to do the right things and participate like I should, but all that introspection is exhausting. So, here I am ... stuffed full of turkey (don't worry Mom, the cooks here ain't got nothing on you) and filled to the brim with the truth. I feel like I put a spotlight on myself and now I'm exposed for a million people. But I’m the only one really paying attention. If that makes sense.

"You're probably wondering what we talked about today. Me and my death wish, mostly. I'm not talking about flying planes or jumping off cliffs. I'm talking about consciously making the decision to poison myself with alcohol. I did it. I knew it would kill me. I purposely bought two bottles and knew that it would be enough to get the job done. I can sit here and say that George is responsible, but the truth is ... he’s not. The truth is that I married someone that I didn’t know. And what I did know was not that great. I was never first with George. I was always someone who simmered on the backburner and waited for him to notice me, which he never did until I boiled over ... which was a lot. I guess maybe I thought that marrying him in the Church of Elvis would change that and give him a different set of priorities, but it didn’t, and I felt trapped. I wanted out. Even before he cheated ... I knew that I had gotten myself into something that was going to be hard and that I wasn’t really happy with, but I didn’t want to be a divorcee, either.

"When I first found out that George cheated, I left town. I spent fifteen days in North Carolina completely drunk off my ass. I’d dance in and out of consciousness and when I was coherent ... I’d laugh until I cried because my life was a joke. *I* was a joke. I didn’t eat. I didn’t do anything except drink until it was all funny again and then I’d sleep for hours and dream that it was all over. *That* is when I started thinking about dying. There were cliffs around the cabin and I kept thinking about burning all of my identification and jumping. I thought that would have been the best fall ever ... knowing there was no safety net, knowing that was the end. Then I thought about how much it would hurt everyone so I flew back home and did the best I could.

"And it’s nobody’s fault but mine. I let my own fears beat me. I was afraid of everything. I was afraid that you guys would be ashamed of me for needing out of a marriage that I claimed to want. I was terrified that I’d get out of it and spend the rest of my life alone and jaded. I was hopelessly convinced that my life was over so I gave up. *I* gave up. You guys didn’t give up on me, but *I* assumed that you would. *I* was a coward. *I* was ashamed. *I* made the decision and *I* went through with it. So, it’s my fault. And I get that now. George cheating wasn’t really the catalyst. The catalyst was me saying yes when he asked me to marry him even though every rational part of me was saying no. So, *I* did it. And *I* see that now.

"In case you didn’t notice ... *I* statements are very popular here.

"Another thing that *I* did today was enjoy the view. I’ve seen nothing but snow, snow, and more snow, but there’s a bridge here that keeps a fresh supply of water heated for the wildlife. Wildlife? I forgot to mention that. This place rehabilitates wild animals. And I do mean *wild* animals. There are bears, tigers, sea lions, eagles, hawks, snakes, tarantulas, camels, and so many other things that you wouldn’t believe. Alicia, the owner of this place, feels that if you can tame a freakin’ bear then you can tame a human’s addictive nature, too. It’s all about habit, according to her. If you’re upset and you reach for alcohol then that’s a *habit* you can break. The same thing applies to animals. If you can make a lion forget that it’s ahead of you on the food chain then anything’s possible.

"I guess maybe I’m starting to see that. This is my roommate Achilles and me enjoying the fact that something isn't frozen here."


"He’s a huge panther. Well, actually he’s a melanistic leopard, but that’s the beauty of it. There’s a verse in the bible that says, ‘Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? Then may ye also do good, that are accustomed to evil’ (which proves I paid attention!). Anyway, the point is ... yes ... a leopard *can* obviously change its spots. Achilles doesn’t have any. And the fact that he has yet to eat me in my sleep proves that you *can* change. And that’s what I’m doing, I think. I’m changing. I’m okay.

"I’m okay.

"I hope you guys had plenty of food and fun times. Wait ... it was a Torres family dinner ... I’m sure you guys had a blast! I can’t wait ‘til Christmas. I love you all! Goodnight!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alex read the entry alone. Everyone was so wrapped up in cleaning the kitchen that he took the laptop to the bedroom and said a fervent prayer that Callie’s blog had been updated. Once he made it to the end of her post, however, he was anything but happy. He read through a second time, then glanced up when Addison pushed the door open and looked at him. Saying nothing, he held it out to her. She sat beside him on the bed, the computer in her lap, and read the entry. When she finished, she closed the laptop and rested her hands on it.

"That fucking place," Alex said, his voice harsh, "is making her blame herself for everything, Addison."

"It’s not the place, Alex. It’s her." Addison waited for him to look at her and when he did, she added, "Right after she tried to commit suicide, we had a talk. She was still in the hospital and she just started talking about her marriage. She told me that the only reason she married George was because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. His father had just died and he said something to her about asphalt in his stomach so she said yes."

"Asphalt in his stomach?"

"I know! Believe me, I asked her how that was romantic." Addy shook her head. "The point is, she knew that she wasn’t happy. She said she wanted to stay with him, but the reason was because she didn’t want to get a divorce and hurt her family. On the flip side of that, she was very loud and clear about the fact that staying with George made her *that* woman who stays with a cheater and that made her miserable, too. So, when she says that she felt trapped, I can see that. She was damned either way. She could disappoint her family with a divorce or she could disappoint herself and stay in it. She chose to disappoint herself. And she’s realizing that now."

"She didn’t mention me at all."

"Well, no. This blog seems to be her way of confronting all the things wrong in her life and you’re the only thing that’s *right*. She loves you. She has never, ever doubted that. She’s never second guessed it or questioned the way she feels so don’t you dare start now."

"I know."

"Do you?"

"Of course I do. It just doesn’t make this any easier." Alex ran a hand through his hair, which had gotten far too long in his opinion. "I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again ... I don’t think that sending someone away from the people they love is the answer. I just don’t."

"She wasn’t sent. She *chose* to go. She asked for this, remember."

Alex nodded. "How am I supposed to survive thirty days without her? I don’t remember what my life was like before she came into it."

"It’s technically only twenty eight days now and you’ll survive because when she does come back ... she’ll need you more than she ever has. And you don’t have the capacity to fail her."

"I have."

Addison shoved his arm. "I call bullshit."

"I left her. I made her doubt our marriage. I shoved her down the other night and -"

"I know." Reaching into her pocket, Addy pulled out a business card. "Ralph Stegman. He’s an anger management specialist. I’ve referred people to him before. He’s good."

Staring at the card, Alex took a deep breath. "You think I -"

"Alex." She lifted his hand and put it in his palm, closing his fingers around it. "You don’t have to go. You can throw that away, put it in the fireplace, whatever, but I’m thinking that while Callie is off facing her demons ... you should go face yours. You have a past that haunts every move you make and until you put it to rest ... it always will."

He nodded and put the card on the end table, next to his wedding photo. He let his gaze linger over the image of Callie in her white dress. "I’d never hurt her physically. What I did -"

"Oh, I know." Addison got to her feet, patting his shoulder. "Because if you did, pregnant or not, I’d slice your still beating heart from your chest and make you eat it."

"Damn. Maybe you need to go see this guy."

"Callie is the best friend I’ve ever had. Ever. When she hurts, I hurt. And unlike Callie, I have pregnant hormones right now so for at least a few more months ... I’d have a really good defense."

He grinned at her. "The Angry Woman Club really needs to disband."

"Screw that. If I have a girl ... she’s carrying the legacy."

"Poor Mark."

Addison smiled ear to ear. "I know, right?"

*~*~*~*~*~

Izzie sat at the O’Malley dinner table feeling like an unwanted intruder. Lexie Gray sat beside her and was currently rattling off cars for Ronnie and Jerry’s amusement. She listened half heartedly as they debated the merits of the Ford Mustang and then glanced at the mantle. There was a photo of Callie and Louise in a beautiful silver frame. Louise walked out of the kitchen and saw what she was looking at. She made quick work of pulling a tissue from her pocket and dusting the photo, which, given how pristine the rest of the house was, probably didn’t need it. The message was loud and clear ... Callie would have been welcomed any day. Izzie wasn’t.

Shifting in her seat, she concentrated on the chocolate cake in front of her. She had baked it. It was her contribution and thus far, only George and Lexie had eaten any. She cut herself a slice and took a bite. Louise sat down across from her and said, "How’s Callie?"

Izzie was relieved to note that the woman was not looking at her for the answer. George spoke up. "She’s actually away at rehab."

Louise turned steel blue eyes on Izzie. "I see."

George looked back and forth between the women. "Hey, Mom, guess what? Callie is actually friends with Izzie now. We’re all friends."

"I’ve heard that before," Louise replied, her eyes never leaving Izzie’s. "Haven’t I, Dr. Stevens?"

Izzie put her fork down. "I - I should go."

"Yes, you should." Louise nodded.

"MOM!" George shouted. "LEAVE HER ALONE!"

The response she was fumbling with died in Izzie’s throat when her cell phone rang. Her eyes widened when she saw the number and she hastily pushed her chair back. "I need to take this."

Not looking back, Izzie hurried onto the front porch, pausing briefly to retrieve her jacket from the rack. "Hello?"

"Hello, how are you?" Eros said softly. "How is your Thanksgiving."

"Hostile, horrible, and bad. I think I would have fared much better going to have dinner with Callie’s family."

"Melana would have baited you."

"Well, it’s better than the pitchfork that George’s mother just rammed through my ass."

Eros laughed. "You need a vacation."

"I really do."

"So take one."

"Take one?"

"I’m in Greece. Why don’t you come and see me."

"You want me to fly to Greece?"

"I certainly do. I’m going to be tied up here another couple of weeks and I don’t know if I can go that long and not see you."

"I -"

"I’ll happily pay for the ticket."

"Oh, I’m not worried about that ... I just ... I’ll have to request time off and get it approved and ... pack ... and why are you in Greece?"

"Family stuff. Now is a great time for you to meet my mother. She’s had eighteen million questions about you. I had to pull you up on the internet in your unmentionables."

"EROS! OH MY GOD!"

"It’s okay! She likes models. You forget that *I* was one. She thinks you’re gorgeous."

"You actually want me to come to Greece? Seriously?"

"I wish you were here right now, love."

The use of the pet name was enough to make her rush to the airport without packing or asking for time off. She smiled and leaned against the porch railing. "I’ll get to see Bounty’s Keep?"

"You’ll get to *stay* at Bounty’s Keep."

"Okay. I’m in."

"Call me when you request the time and let me know which dates, okay?"

"I will."

"I miss you," he said.

"I miss you, too."

"I’ll see you soon."

"Definitely."

They said goodbye and she hung up, then hopped around on the front porch like a kid in a candy store. George opened the door while she was in mid hop and grinned at her. "You okay?"

"I’m going to Greece."

His eyes widened. "Shut up! Really?"

"Really," she replied, putting her phone in her pocket. She impulsively hugged her best friend and added, "I could fall for this one."

George stiffened a little. "Uh, Iz?"

"Hmm?"

"You JUST met him."

"I know." She took a step back. "And?"

"And did you not give me hell about being with Callie after I *just* met her?"

"George-"

"You expect me to tell you that this is great and tell you to have a good time, but this is where I remind you that you need to be careful. You don’t know anything about him and if you’re already thinking about falling ... that means that you’re determined to."

"Hello? You married someone after just a few months!"

"Think about all the advice you gave me, Izzie, and apply it to yourself."

"Are - oh my god - are you jealous?"

"Jealous? No. I’m worried. I’m concerned. I’m a little pissed that *you* can fall really fast but no one else can, but jealous? Not even a little."

"Whatever, George. You know what? I’m happy. I’m going to *be* happy if it’s the last thing I do."

He held out her purse to her. "Then go be happy."

"Fine."

"Fine."

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 26
Rehab, for the most part, was a lot like doing rounds at the hospital. Instead of seeing patients, Callie was seen for hours at a time by four therapists who worked individually with her. Each therapist covered a specific topic that ranged from anger to stress to self destruction. Alicia covered the rest, gently peeling back the layers that had grown and festered over wounds that Callie didn't even know she had. By the end of her first full week, Callie had completed her required forty hours of one on one sessions and volunteered for group before they could ask her.

Listening to other people's problems helped take her mind off herself. It also helped to know that she was not the only person who reached for a bottle when life got out of hand. She was beginning to see that the common link between alcoholics was not a need for drunkeness ... but a need to control *something* when the rug was yanked beneath your feet. Alcoholics felt helpless until the buzz made them ten feet tall and bulletproof. Callie spoke at length about drinking herself nearly to death and opened a door to her past when she admitted that she had started drinking at twelve. She received sympathetic nods and murmurs of understanding when she simply said that the catalyst was family issues. She didn’t mention FMC, the CIA, or the things she had seen over the years. Something told her that it would have been brushed away as alcoholic hallucinations so she kept that to herself, deciding to save it for when she got home.

It was during a particularly intense group session that Callie saw herself in Ange. They resembled, with their black hair and eyes, but as Callie listened to the much younger girl talk about how violent she became when she drank, Callie felt a mirror drop down in front of her. Her knuckles were still slightly swollen from striking Cam. Up until that moment, she had not given Cam much thought. That was the one topic she would not touch and she purposely distracted herself when her mind did wander too close to him. And she did something called detachment when the therapists asked her about her twin. She plastered a smile on her face and said, "I do have a twin. He lives in Miami, though, so we don't see each other much."

As she listened to Ange talk about hitting her sister, Callie felt a lump start to form in her throat. She couldn't really remember the drive back to her house that night. She didn't remember wrecking her car. She couldn't remember exactly what happened when Alex pushed her down. She did remember, with startling clarity, exactly how it sounded every time she hit Cam. She remembered his eyes, the shock on his face, the way his voice shook, and the things she said. It had begun to destroy her and by day seven, the toll it was taking was evident on her features.

By the time her tenth day rolled around, she had taken to writing one to two lines in her blog. Mostly she wrote about Achilles, who had begun to sleep in her bed. When he wasn't settled in beside her, he was sitting in front of the window looking outside. She joined him most of the time, gazing at the snowdrifts with one arm around him. He was proving to be a very good listener and the only time he left the cabin was when she did. He matched her steps, his ears perking at the sound of her voice as she grumbled about snow, snow shoes, bulky jackets, and freezing to death. It was to the panther alone that Callie spoke about FMC and Cambyses. Her brother had ripped her heart out. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to forgive him and if she did ... she knew that she’d never forget the icy fist that had gripped her soul and twisted. Cambyses had wished her dead and it didn’t matter that he had been a double agent ... for him to speak that out loud was enough to rip apart the cosmic bond they shared. Betrayal had never felt worse.

When her mind wandered too close to Cam and what had transpired, she forced it away and concentrated on anything other than the rawness she still felt.

Being awarded free time for behaving was not all that it was cracked up to be. Art was not very fun for someone who had trouble drawing a stick figure and abstract art, for Callie, consisted of staring at the blank canvas for the entire free hour. Knitting was out, pottery was out, and watching movies left her restless. When she stumbled into the music room by accident, she sat down at the piano, closed her eyes, and let her fingers drift over the keys, playing 'I'll Be Home For Christmas' and humming along. It didn't take her long to request that her art and pottery hours be switched to music. Her mood could be gauged by the music she chose to play and the therapy sessions usually involved song choice since the entire main building heard every note. Mozart meant she was moody. Chopin was depressed. Top forty music meant that she was cheerful and open to discussing whatever topic was at hand. And if she played Fiona Apple it was a sure sign that she should be avoided at all costs.

On day eleven, Callie blogged about music. She blogged about her anger and resentment for being forced to learn every instrument known to mankind, but she made it a special point to thank her mother because if she hand not learned it then the hours she spent trying to entertain herself would have been boring as hell. She didn't mention the fact that the music room was equipped with recording equipment and that she was taking advantage of that because it was going to be a Christmas present.

On day twelve, Alicia presented her with a release to utilize a video camera beginning on day sixteen. The waiver contained boxes that she could check showing which areas she would be filmed. Callie's heart slammed against her chest. "Do I have to agree to this?"

"Not at all," Alicia said, pushing her honey colored hair over her shoulder. "You can decline the use of a camera. It’s more for your family's benefit anyway. They find comfort when they see you."

Callie scanned down the list. Every area of her day was listed, from group to one on one to meal times. Each room was equipped with a camera, which she had stopped paying any attention to at all. Her eyes lingered over a category called 'freestyle'. She asked what it meant.

"Freestyle means that you're in control of the camera. You can film anything you want, including yourself. Whatever you say or do on camera is yours. The staff here stays out of it."

Callie thought about all the secrets about the CIA and FMC that she had been sitting on. Keeping a lid on that felt explosive. "Can they view it? The staff?"

"I can," Alicia replied. "I'm the only one with access to your blog. Which., by the way, doesn't have many *I* statements anymore."

"What if I didn't want you to have access?"

Alicia said nothing for several seconds. She studied Callie intensely, her eyes roaming over her face. "Is there something you don't feel comfortable telling me?"

"Yes."

"But you want to tell your family?"

Callie nodded.

"You've done a nice job so far. You've been very open with us about so much, but it's very uncommon to give someone permission to hide things because we can't help you if we don't know."

"We? I thought only you could see it."

Alicia chuckled. "I guess I need to work on my *I* statements as well."

"It's just ... I know that you can't divulge anything, but I'd feel a lot more comfortable knowing that the only people who hear what I have to say are the ones who need to hear it."

Alicia maintained eye contact, searching. "And if I say no?"

"Then I'll keep blogging about the weather or the panther and not use a lot of *I* statements." Callie shrugged apologetically. "No offense."

One side of the other woman's mouth quirked up. "Tell you what, I am willing to let you do this on the condition that you write a letter to someone in your blog. With *I* statements. And I want you to speak up more in group."

"That sounds fair."

"I'll create a separate blog for your videos, you set the password, and give your family a hint so they can figure it out. Deal?"

"Deal."

Callie thought, as she walked back to her cabin with Achilles a while later, that it was high time to say a few choice things. She just hoped that she still had the nerve when someone other than the panther had his ears perked.

******

"Izzie!" Eros called across the expanse of the airport baggage claim. He waved his arm and got her attention, smiling when she stopped chasing the luggage carousel in an attempt to dislodge her pink suitcase.

Rushing toward him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. "I'm tempted to kiss the ground."

He leaned back, grinning. "Kiss me instead."

She obliged, trembling as she did so. When they broke apart, she said, "I freaked out flying from Seattle to San Francisco and that was just a puddle jumper. I hate flying."

He smoothed his hand over her pony tail, frowning. "Were your accommodations not nice?"

"First class is always nice. It was the storm that did me in."

"I see." He held out his hand, leading her to the luggage carousel. When the pink bag came around, he easily pulled it out. "Pink," he murmured. "You apparently want to emasculate me as we walk through the airport."

She wrinkled her nose. "I've seen you naked. You can't possibly be emasculated."

"Thank you." With a wink, he led her from the building, opening the door on a canary yellow convertible. "Not one word."

She laughed. She couldn't help it. Laughter was like a language with Eros. He *got* her. He understood that being pretty was as much of a curse as a free pass. He knew that having model on your resume caused more laughter than real respect. Plus, the sex was amazing. She fastened her seatbelt and breathed deep, smiling. "I love it already."

"Already, sweetness?"

"Well, you're here."

"And so are you." Eros drove away from the curb. "Your passport now has a stamp."

"My first one! I can't believe it was so hard to get it! Almost two weeks and then Raphael had to help rush it along."

"It was a favor to me. He still doesn't like you."

"Not many people do."

"I do. More than you know."

The smile was still planted on Izzie's face when they turned into Bounty's Keep a while later, but it rapidly faded to a wide eyed, rounded mouth look of awe. The photos had not done it justice. Addison had not done it justice either and she had gone on and on about it. Quelling the urge to get up on her knees so she could see everything at once out the open convertible top, she settled for craning her neck hard enough to sprain it. "This is what Anne of Green Gables felt the first time she went to Avonlea."

"I have no idea what that means, but I’ll take it. Do you like it?"

"I love it!"

Eros pulled to a stop in front of the mansion that seemed to spring from the rocks. He cut the engine and smiled at her. "I fear that my mother is old fashioned. You will be in Melana's room."

"I am not old fashioned!" Willa exclaimed, her hands on her plump hips. She smiled over her son's head at Izzie. "Welcome to Bounty's Keep, darling. Come on, come on. You won't see the best views from the car!"

Izzie liked her immediately.

Three hours later, she knew what paradise was. It was the view from the glass balcony and Eros standing behind her, pointing at the island across the way that he promised to take her to see soon.

*****

Alex like Ralph Stegman. The man was in his late fifties and insisted that Alex call him Steg because Ralph was a name for an old man. His office boasted photos of athletes, predominantly hockey players, but it was an image of Steg with Muhammad Ali that kicked off an eye opening conversation about athletes being angrier than normal people. After three meetings, Alex had to agree that when you were used to releasing frustration on the field (or wrestling mat), it was hard to handle off of it. At Steg's request, he joined a local gym and clocked many hours robotically pumping iron until the stinging in his arms, back, and legs overshadowed the stinging in his heart. He was angry at his wife. Furious. More than furious, actually. He was livid. Being surrounded by her family wasn’t making it any easier because he saw her in Cambyses, in Melana, even in Raphael ... who had the same annoying habit of reading the paper backwards, starting at the funny pages and ending on the front page. Raph licked his finger just like Callie did, leaving inky smudges on the edges.

Alex had to fight back tears when he saw it ... and that only added to his frustration. During his fourth meeting with Steg, he locked horns with the psychologist over whether or not rehab was worth its weight in salt. Steg firmly believed that Callie had done the right thing by leaving without a goodbye and launched into a spiel about how brave it was to ask strangers for help. Without softening the sharp edges of the truth at all, Steg informed Alex that he wasn’t mad at Callie. Alex was mad at himself for not encouraging her to go, for giving her reason to question whether or not he would be there when she got home, and for leaving her to begin with. Because Alex had been left behind now ... he knew exactly how hard it was for Callie. After yelling until he was red faced, Alex slumped back in the chair and glared at the older man ... then he put his head in his hands and cried. By the end of his two hour session, he was starting to realize that the only person he had to be pissed at was himself.

He had known all along that Callie had a real problem and he had wanted to fix her ... even though he didn’t know where to begin. Because of *that* ... she had left without a goodbye ... because she knew what she needed and that he would have begged her not to go. And he couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t fix Callie in the same way that he couldn’t fix his father’s temper or make his mother’s bruises fade faster. Alex had spent so much of his life trying to *fix* other people that he didn’t bother to stop and take a look at what needed fixing inside himself. He had to learn to let people go and heal ... and not hold it against them. Over the next few days, he went out of his way to speak to his mother in the hospital cafeteria and when she decided to move into the guard shack that Leon had vacated, he made sure that she had a new bed and the small kitchen was stocked with her favorite foods. He also didn’t flinch when she hugged him ... and hugged her back.

Sleeping without Callie had not gotten any easier, despite his epiphanies, however. If anything, it was a million times worse. He had taken her favorite tank top and slipped it over her pillow so he could smell her at night. Melana had found it when she straightened the room and patted his arm that night, telling him that she had done the same thing with Raphael's Grateful Dead t-shirt. She didn't wash it or the pillowcase when she stripped the bed, either. Mel encouraged him to take Chunk for walks or go and visit Mark and Addison, but for the most part, he went to work and then straight to bed when he got home.

That pattern lasted two days and then Raphael forced Alex to go shopping with him. Callie's father had decided that she would get a replacement for Goon Docks as a Christmas present and insisted that Alex help design it. Alex barely did anything. Raphael went for the biggest, the most luxurious, and the most expensive. Alex named it and made sure that the master bedroom had a sexy Gothic vibe and the same chandelier that Goon Docks had boasted. He also made sure that the captain’s chair was top of the line and comfortable for her and asked for a claw foot tub. Raph never batted an eye at the price tag, though Alex was sure that he had enough of a panic attack from the sticker shock for the both of them.


On Callie's fifteenth day away, Alex got a buzz cut. He was tired of managing the cowlick that Callie usually gelled and the barber shop was right beside the tattoo parlor he dropped into on a whim. An hour later, he had something to give Callie for Christmas as well. Something to prove once and for all that he wasn't going anywhere.

Addison had been right, he decided, after he told Steg all about his piece of shit father and fear that he could become him ... you couldn't bury your demons until you faced them ... and Alex was face to face.

On the sixteenth day, Alex awoke with a start and reached for his wife. She wasn't there. His hand found the hibernating laptop and he hit enter, refreshing her blog. He had spent most of the night reading her past entries for hours on end. He had it memorized. He felt his heart turn over in his chest when he saw that she had posted just minutes before.

She had addressed it to him and only him, telling anyone else who may be reading not to click his name. He clicked it so hard that he jammed the mouse and spent five minutes swearing at it until the button popped free.


"Dear Alex,

"This sucks because I don't know if you're reading anything I've said. Part of me believes to my soul that you are, that you're waiting, that you wouldn't leave, but another part says you're gone. It's a little hard to breathe when I imagine coming home. I want to be there right now, but then I don't because nothing in the world hurts worse than empty hangers in a closet. When you see them hanging there ... you know that the only thing they're good for is to remind you of what's they'll never hold again.

"I imagine that when someone dies, the person they leave behind goes to the closet and pulls down a shirt, buries their face in it, and breathes deep. When you leave ... I look for hours for something of yours to breathe in. And I hate it, but there it is. I want to trust you, I want to believe you when you say that every time is the last time, and a big part of me does, obviously, but not all the way.

"If you are there then thank you. I haven't given you a lot of reasons to stay. I *get* why you don't. I get that I'm complicated and I disappoint you a lot of the time and stress you out the rest, but I do see that. I know. I guess what I'm trying to say is last night at therapy I had to pick what I consider my greatest accomplishment. And I didn't hesitate.

"I said my marriage.

"For some people it's their career, but I never wanted to be a doctor. Some people probably say their education, but I don't care that I have degrees. What I do care about is you. In the entire world ... you found *me*. And you found me when I didn't even know I was lost. You saved my life because even then, before we even knew what love was, you could hear my heart slowing down. So, you made it race instead.

"No amount of education or setting bones can make me as proud as you do. I feel good when you look at me. I feel blessed when you talk to me. I feel grateful that you know me the way you do and force me to confront myself when I don't want to. I feel loved ... even when do leave because I know that you've already loved me further than you can go. You can become the top surgeon in the country, but you already loved me past even that.

"So, thank you. If you are reading this please don't think for a second that I would ever take you for granted. You stayed for me and I will never forget that. If you're not reading this, if you did go, I understand. And whoever IS reading this better not make things hard on him or so help me God I will be like Carrie at the prom. You *know* I'm not even kidding!

"That's pretty much what I needed to say today. We're going skiing. Ask me if I want to go skiing. That loud 'no' you just heard was me. Freakin' polar bears would fall out dead here. It is that cold. The Antarctic would feel like Palm Springs. You open your mouth to speak and your tongue freezes to your teeth. It is so damn bad that they spent two hours last night teaching us how to dig a good shelter 'in the event of'. I tried to get out of this by swearing that my luck is bad and didn't want to affect anyone else, but they didn't buy it. So, I have a nice, heavy, bulky pink thing to wear because apparently my pride has to suffer as well. What the hell is wrong with black?

"Achilles will go and he's black. Oh, here I am with him. He's huge, right?


"Oh!!! I get to film this little trip if I want. I earned camera rights. What you guys won't be seeing are meetings and stuff. That's my time and I'm not sharing that. But, you can see other stuff. And me ... the big pink snow bunny I'm destined to become today. To access the videos you have to log in differently. The user name is CallieKarev0704 and the password is the name of the thing Alex bought me for my birthday and then buried too soon.

"If I don't cause an avalanche, hit a tree, or break anything, then I'll edit and upload the video later. Should be pure comedy gold. Bye.

"PS, didn't I tell you it was pure comedy cold. Look at this crap!"


Alex took a deep breath.

Then he grinned until his cheeks hurt.

He would be seeing her soon. Sorta. And the letter she had written him had put him at ease at last.

*******

Hannah blew a strand of hair out of her face and rolled her eyes. She saw that Callie had the same expression and moved closer to her. "And the tragic part is that some people consider this a vacation."

"Give me a beach, a boat, a book, and someone to rub me all over with massage oil," Amber said, stepping up to Callie's other side. Her red snowsuit was covered in snow from crawling on her hands and knees for the most part. As if on cue, she lost her footing and took Callie down with her. Callie landed on top of the other woman, who quirked a brow. "How *you* doing? Is that your pole or are you glad to see me?"

Callie cackled and struggled to her feet, sliding as she did so. Ange held the camera on her and she glared at it. "I'm okay and you really had to film that, huh?"

Ange nodded. "When you win America’s Funniest Home videos ... I get a cut."

Amber grabbed the seat of Callie's pants as she went down again. Both women shrieked and landed on their backs. With a groan, Amber said, "I am so fucking glad that today is my last day. I miss New York."

"I miss rain," Callie replied, moving only enough to pull her ski from under her. "Jesus. You think if we ate the snow they'd call it a day? It would lower our body temp enough to knock us out."

"Achilles pissed on the snow," Hannah told them, driving her own poles between them. "There. That ought to help."

"Ohhh, is that what they're for?" Amber gripped the one nearest her and pulled herself upright. "I get it!"

The pink tassel under Callie's chin blew into her face. Achilles, who had been watching the movement, sprang forward and removed her hat in a flash. The image of the panther lunging toward her throat was enough to paralyze her with fear and she didn't move for several seconds. The big cat growled low in his throat as he shook the toboggan back and forth like a ragdoll.

"Oh my god!" Hannah screeched. "How is your jugular!?"

Callie sat up. "I'm more concerned about my pants. I think I need new ones."

"Freakin' animal planet rehab." Amber drove her own ski pole down for Callie and held on, waiting for her to take it. "I feel like the Croc Hunter and we all know how that worked out."

"Are you okay?" Alicia called, plowing through the snow on her skis with the skill of an Olympic athlete. She sent a powdery mix flying over Callie as she slid to a stop. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride." Callie glanced to her left, where Achilles had effectively ripped her hat to shreds. "I feel that this excursion has been detrimental and harmful to my ego ... therefore I should go back to my cabin and hide."

Alicia held her hand out. "Come on, you big baby. No one goes home until they ski the face of Old Painful."

"Why do they call it Old Painful?" Hannah asked, eyeing the peak ahead of them.

"Because someone usually breaks something?" Callie offered.

"No," Alicia grinned. "Because you usually feel it in your muscles for a week and that’s *good* for you."

Later on, Callie had to laugh as she used the laptop’s editing program to put together a decent video for her family. Turning the camera toward herself, she sat in front of the fireplace, pushing her drying hair off her face as she spoke to everyone. "So," she said, waving her hand. "Greetings from the coldest place I’ve *ever* been in my life. This is a very, very small cabin, but check it out." She breathed, exhaling a foggy breath into the room. "Even with the fireplace going nonstop, you can see your breath."

Achilles seemed to think she was talking to him because he came over, burying the top of his head under her chin to rub her neck. "This is Achilles. Yes, he really is as big as he looks. And when he’s like this he’s not very intimidating, but what you’ll see on this video has pretty much scarred me for life. I really, truly thought he was killing me." She scratched the panther’s head and took a deep breath. "I’m okay. I’m halfway through this program and I’m learning a lot. Believe it or not, I haven’t thought about drinking at all. I’m too busy thinking about all of you and wishing that I could be there. Maybe this is why rehab works. Maybe not being with the people you love makes you see what you stand to lose by messing up. I’m really starting to get it now."

The panther almost knocked her over in his quest to play so she laughed and said, "Okay, that’s my cue to throw a ball or something. As you’ll see from the video ... there’s a reason why I don’t go skiing. Someone give Stavros and Loukas a hug for me if they’re still there. See ya soon! Love you!"

*~*~*~*~

In Seattle, Cambyses was the first to discover the video. He watched his twin sister in the snow, watched the panther lunge for her throat, covered his face when she ‘skied down the slopes flat on her back, and then got to his feet and flipped open his phone. Blake answered on the third ring. "I’m not taking your calls, Cam," he said.

"Nice," Cam replied. "This isn’t a personal call."

"What’s wrong?"

"Callie’s gone."

"What?! You mean she’s dea-"

"No, she’s not dead. She’s gone to some rehab that won’t let us call her or anything. I need you to find her for me."

"Why would I do that? Oh, wait, that’s right ... you don’t have connections anymore because you’re a good for nothing quitter who commits to their country and then turns his back on it and -"

"Do I need to remind you that our country, the one that you’re so proud of, actively represses homosexuals in the military, in the CIA, and when it comes to equal rights? The same country that you’re willing to die for won’t let you marry the person you love. As a matter of fact -"

"Save it. I don’t want to hear it."

"What do you want to hear?"

"I want to hear that you’ve changed your mind and you’ve decided to come back! This is our life, Cambyses! This is what we’re good at! What are you gonna do? Go and run Daddy’s business and date the mail clerk?"

"I don’t know ... is he cute?"

"Fuck you."

"No, you know what? Fuck you, Blake! Most men, real men, would appreciate the fact that I value my family. You know what it did to me when Mom was pissed at me and wouldn’t talk to me. You know what I went through every single time The Triad went after my dad or threatened to do something to Callie. You saw it first hand and I told you time and time again that I was getting out as soon as we finished the assignment. Well, we finished. I’m done. I want a normal life and if that means dating the mail clerk instead of the man I love then -"

"Don’t you dare pull the love card!"

"Don’t you dare pretend that I haven’t earned the right to pull whichever card I need to pull. I’m asking you to do this to do this for me, Blake. I’m begging you to help me find her because she’s out there thinking that I wanted her to be hurt and she’s telling people to hug Stavros and Loukas, but she’s not talking about me or to me or remembering that I know her and I can see that she is not okay! So, please ... find her for me. Please. Don’t do it for me ... you can hate me if you want to ... but do it for her because she needs me right now!"

Blake was silent on the other end of the line. After a while, he took a deep breath and said, "I don’t hate you."

"Do you have any idea what it was like to spend Thanksgiving without *you* and *Callie*?"

"I actually do."

"This sucks." Cam ran a hand through his long hair and sat down on the edge of his bed. "You don’t have to stay in the CIA either, Blake, but if you wanted to do that and you still wanted to be with me ... that would be fine with me. I can handle you being gone for weeks at a time for some mission ... what I can’t handle is knowing that you’re not coming back. Ever."

"Cam-"

"We don’t have to work together to be together."

"Don’t," Blake said. "What can you tell me about the rehab that Callie went to?"

Cambyses told him what he knew. "How long will it take?" he finally asked, listening as Blake typed on his computer.

"Give me until morning."

"Thank you."

"You know ... I’m not pissed that you chose your family over the CIA. I’m hurt that you did it without talking to me at all. I’m stunned that you announced you were resigning before you even got to help me take The Triad down. Everyone’s dead, Cam, and the players behind the scenes are being held in federal custody while they await trial."

"You found Leon?"

"Not yet, but I’m hot on his trail. You should have been the one to track him. It’s personal for you."

"It’s personal for you because of me. Or at least ... it used to be."

"Yeah, well, I’ve learned to not mix business with pleasure."

Cam clenched his free hand into a fist. "I never thought that this could be us. I’ve loved you for most of my life. How do I not do that anymore?"

"The same way you decided not to be an agent, Cam. Just do it. Don’t think about it, don’t consider your options, just do it. I’ll call you when I find her."

"Blake -"

The line went dead and Cam tossed his phone across the room.

He watched the video again, trying to see signs of life around Callie’s hollow eyes, but the only thing he saw was a miserable actress trying very hard to convince everyone that she was fine. When Alex arrived and asked if she had updated, Cam was tempted to say no, but instead he nodded and held out the computer with a smile and a nod. If Alex realized that Cam was as insincere as his twin ... he didn’t let on.

Cam didn’t get much sleep and he gave up trying when Blake texted him Callie’s whereabouts.

Wasting no time, he called the airport and used one of the many fake IDs the CIA had given him to book a flight to the nearest airport to Freedom Ridge.

He was seated in first class an hour later, sipping orange juice from his shaking hand.

If she told him that she hated him ... he would die.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Callie finally gave up in her quest for sleep when the sun rose and Achilles began to pace beside the door. She let the panther out and grabbed an armful of wood for the fireplace. Settling down in front of it, she waited patiently for her body to thaw. When she was able to flex her fingers and toes without fearing that they would snap off, she brewed herself a cup of coffee and dug through her closet until she found something that looked warm enough to chase away the cold. Today was a ‘free’ day, which meant that nothing was scheduled and she could do anything that she wanted. All of her friends had completed the program and gone home, leaving her alone with the reclusive writer who remained secluded in her cabin for the most part. Callie had caught glimpses of her in the hallways and cafeteria, but she had not spoken.

Armed with the camera and a fresh toboggan that she hoped would not entice Achilles, she strapped snow shoes on her feet and trudged toward the main building. It was snowing hard enough that the panther’s tracks had already vanished so she picked up her pace and headed in the right direction, pulling her scarf around her face as the frigid air burned her lungs. Alaska, she decided, could be crossed off of places she wanted to visit. Maybe in the summer it was okay, but in the winter she was *over* it. She drew up short when she heard the panther growl somewhere in the woods. It was ominous enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. Turning her head, she watched a deer break through the trees and feint to the left with Achilles hot on its trail. With one hand over her mouth, she watched the panther bound through the snow in hot pursuit and said a silent prayer that the deer would make it to safety before the big cat could take it down. The two animals vanished behind the cabin that had been Paris’s and she held her breath, waiting to hear the sounds of the attack, but it didn’t come.

Taking a step, she cringed when her snow shoe came off. She plopped down on the ground to work on the straps again. Her heart slammed in her chest a second later and the feeling that she was being watched caused her stomach to tingle. From behind her, she could hear someone trudging through the snow and when the shadow fell over her, she didn’t have to ask who it was. She *knew*. "How did you find me?" she asked.

"A person usually knows where their heart is. I just followed the sounds of it beating."

"You’ve never really been flaming until right now. That was the most ridiculous thing you could have said to someone who wants to gouge your eyes out." Pushing herself to her feet, Callie turned and glared at her twin. "I’m not supposed to have visitors."

"Well, I sweet talked Alicia until she agreed that her visitation policy needed a little work." Cam gestured around them. "Give me a tour."

"No thanks."

"Then invite me back to your cabin for tea or something. I just - I need to be around you for a while. I miss you."

"Unlike Alicia ... I can’t be sweet talked. Go home."

"But-"

"I don’t want to talk to you! I don’t want to hear you, look at you, or think about you so why don’t you go back the way you came and leave me alone?!"

Cam was unable to tear his eyes from hers. "I get that what I did was pretty shocking. I completely understand why you’re pissed, but we’re family, Callie, and that means something. Look, you were in a drunken stupor when I tried to explain everything so can you at least hear me out?"

"Let me guess what you’re gonna say ... you’re gonna say that you did it to protect our family and to help crumble The Triad. You’re gonna say that you had our best interests at heart and never meant to almost kill me despite what you said on the video. And then you may get a little weepy when you consider what watching *that* must have been like for me. Am I getting warm?"

"It’s impossible to get warm in this weather. Can we please go inside?"

"Go *home*."

"I DON’T HAVE A HOME!" he yelled. "BLAKE BROKE UP WITH ME! IT’S HIS HOUSE!"

Her eyes widened. "Blake broke up with you? Why?"

"Because I quit the CIA. Because I chose you."

"Me?"

"I can’t have both, Callie, and if it’s all the same to you ... I’d rather have my sister than my job. I’m done. I’m an open book. You can ask me anything and I swear to God I’ll tell you the truth. It hit too close to home this time. You could have been hurt and it would have been my fault so if I get a little weepy it’s not because you saw me acting on a tape ... it’s because I could have lost you and I tend to go off the deep end when I even imagine what that would be like. Okay? Cut me a little slack here and let me talk to you because I don’t have anyone else left."

"Fuck," she said through gritted teeth. "Come on. It *is* too cold out here. That is the *only* reason I’m letting you in my cabin. Got it?"

Cam followed behind her as she trudged through the snow. He tried hard not to smile as her snow shoe came off again and kneeled down in front of her to fasten it himself. "You know," he said, "Alex is going to kill me when he finds out that I came to see you and didn’t bring him. He’s going crazy. He’s taken to sleeping with your shirt over one of your pillows."

She stiffened, staring down at her brother as he worked on her shoe. "He didn’t leave?"

Cam grinned and shook his head. "Of course he didn’t, you idiot. He loves you."

"Look, you aren’t exactly in my shiny, happy place so don’t call me an idiot."

"I said it with love."

"Don’t say that either."

"You’re not the thought police."

"No, but I can pull your tongue out."

"I’ll risk it."

She wrestled her foot from his grip and stalked toward her cabin, leaving him holding the shoe. By the time she arrived, her sock was drenched and her toes were so cold she had to grit her teeth as she walked up the stairs. Inside, she threw another log onto the fire and toed off her shoes , grabbing a towel to dry her foot. Cam entered behind her, making the room feel much smaller than it was because of his size alone. Closing the door, he picked up the fire poker and stoked the fire until it roared to life before he slumped into the chair beside the window. She sat down on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. "So, what do you want? Try to be brief."

"Forgiveness?"

"For which part?"

Cam took a deep breath. "All of it."

"There’s not enough forgiveness in the world for that."

"How is what I did *any* different than what you did? Callie, you were an agent, too. For Dad."

"There’s a big difference! I never risked *your* life!"

"I didn’t know you were on the water that day! We were assured by the coast guard that they would clear the area. They were supposed to tell people that there was a whale in distress and keep all the boats away."

"That’s what you get for trusting people, isn’t it? Even *family*."

He glared at her. "I’m not going to apologize to you for making it my life’s work to take down the organization that wanted to kill our parents. Fuck that. I’m not sorry I did it and I’d do it again. What I will say is I’m sorry that you got hurt by it. I’m very, very sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t share it with you or let you help me because God knows I needed you a million and one times. I’m sorry that you found out the way you did and I apologize for ever giving you any reason to think I’d mean anything I said on that tape because I know that I could trust you with my life ... I’m sorry that I haven’t made you feel the same way."

"Are you finished?"

"I don’t know. Is it working?"

"I want to know everything." One brow slid upward. "When did you join the CIA?"

Taking a deep breath, Cam told her every sordid detail of his life with the CIA. She drew her feet up onto the bed as she listened and pulled a pillow into her lap. It gave him a much needed boost of confidence that she never interrupted or looked away from him. When he finished the story, laying it all on the line, he got to his feet and tugged his coat off, leaving it on the back of the chair. Wordlessly, he walked to the fire and threw another log on, letting her have a while to digest what he had told her. Enough time passed for his heart to start racing and butterflies to swarm his stomach. He finally turned and looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

"Blake actually broke up with you? Like, outright?"

"Okay ... I just told you *everything* about the CIA and you want to ask me about my boyfriend?"

"Your love life is way juicier than anything you did as an agent."

He frowned. "You don’t know that."

"You’re scared of your own shadow. Yes, I do."

"That’s fair." With a smile, he sat next to her on the bed.

"This is still not okay, Cam."

"You’re not knocking me into the floor though so I’d say we’re getting there," he replied. "How are you? I mean, really?"

"I miss Alex."

"You’re doing the right thing by staying here and he’s not going anywhere." Cam tentatively put his hand over hers. "And I didn’t ask you if you missed Alex. I asked you how you are."

"I’m learning a lot."

"Alicia said that you’ve kinda clammed up. She said it’s like you rounded the corner then turned around and tried to hide in it."

Callie gasped. "She can’t tell you things like that! It’s a breach of confidentiality."

Reaching into his wallet, Cam pulled out a driver’s license and held it out to her. "Alicia thinks I’m Dr. Sanjaya Singer. Your doctor. From Seattle."

"Sanjaya Singer?" Callie took the ID and made a face. "Did you name this after that no talent waste of air on American Idol?"

"*I* liked him. He had a faux-hawk." Cam shrugged and put the license back in his pocket. "So, pretend I’m your doctor and tell me what you’re not telling the ones here because something tells me Dad will have a stroke when he gets the bill for this place."

"Why would I tell you anything?"

"Because I understand you."

"You almost killed me! And my husband! And you lied to me and worked with the bad guys!"

"And yet ... you haven’t kicked my ass again so we’re making progress."

She glanced at him, biting her bottom lip. "I wish I could erase that entire beat down."

"I was pretty impressed," he replied, giving her a boyish grin. "You may be six minutes younger than me, but you still got it going on. Helluva right hook."

"It’s not funny." Callie’s voice trembled. "What happened to all of us, Cam? Our family is so ... broken. Mom is mad at Dad all the time. You’re lying to people. And I -"

"You what?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me." Cam waited patiently for her to reply and when she didn’t, he nudged her with his shoulder. "You’re going to make this Alicia chick doubt my medical credentials if we don’t have a breakthrough here. I came all this way and talking about you means we’re not talking about me so can you please toss me a bone here. Finish what you were gonna say."

"I’m always waiting for someone to notice that I’m not okay. You have no idea what it’s like to scream ... and for nobody to hear it."

"Explain it to me. Make me understand."

"I don’t even know if I can trust you!"

"That’s a lie. You know me. You know me better than you know yourself ... just like I know you. Talk to me, Callie."

She turned her head and looked at him. He wasn’t wearing his blue contacts and his eyes were a shade lighter than hers and so sincere that she held her breath as she stared into them. He didn’t blink at all when he gave her the same crooked smile he had always reserved just for her and it was enough. Having him there felt like God had finally answered a prayer and that same God touched a floodgate and the truth came spilling from her like a tidal wave. "I was so mad at you when you came out of the closet. We were fifteen and you had the nerve to stand up and say it. You owned it. You looked our parents right in the face and said that you were gay and they listened to you. They heard it. Daddy cried. Mom threw things. They *heard* you and even though they didn’t like what you had to say ... they listened. For three years I had been stealing enough liquor from the cabinet to make Mom fire countless maids, but she never asked me if I was taking it. I went Gothic thinking they’d ask me why or take me to someone who would, but they didn’t. Dad didn’t bat an eyelash and Mom thought that ignoring it would make it disappear, but they didn’t *ask* me, Cam. They didn’t try to make me tell them what was wrong. I was begging them to ask me every single time I dyed my hair or painted my room with a fresh coat of black.

"And I’m mad. I’m mad that you could command their attention by saying that you were gay, but I was disappearing right in front of them and they never gave it a second thought." She brushed away a tear that slid down her cheek. "I wasn’t strong enough to announce it the way you did. I wanted to stand up and say ‘by the way, I got so drunk last night that I passed out in the bathroom and if you’re wondering why then let me tell you all about the demon that Dad caught in a box or the fact that I levitated at Stonehenge, or maybe you want to hear about the fact that ghosts exist and I’ve seen ‘em’. There are pictures of me when I was thirteen, fourteen, hell, even sixteen and I looked broken. I’m chubby and pale and Mom always said that I was having trouble with puberty, but instead of asking me what was really going on ... she bought me a fucking self help book and told me to join the track team.

"Do you know what that felt like? It felt like she was saying ‘I can see that you have a problem, but I don’t want to hear about it’. And Dad wasn’t any help at all. He acted like it was nothing. He acted like I had no choice but to be the strongest and bravest and *best* at everything he wanted me to do and the only way I could do that was to drink it away. He accused the guys at FMC for drinking his liquor and when they denied it he’d laugh and tell them to become better liars and all the while I was praying that he would look at me and I could look guilty enough to make him ask me. I would have told the truth because the truth was killing me." She hugged the pillow tighter to her chest. "I felt like I was completely alone in the world. You were a social butterfly, always going to a party or out with friends. Stavros and Louk were always busy. I couldn’t talk to Dad because I didn’t want to disappoint him and Mom was wrapped up in trying to find psychologists to get the gay out of you and the whole time I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that *you* weren’t broken ... I was."

Cam put his arm around her, pulling her against his chest. "You could have told me. Anytime."

She rested her head against his shoulder. "I know that *now*."

"Why didn’t you get help on your own? I mean, the school had programs."

"When I went to college and got away from FMC it was easier to not drink every day. I could be someone else. I was out on my own and I was always so busy with school work that I didn’t have the time. I wanted to be the best and get out of school and move away." She shook her head. "And it worked for a while, you know? I bought the books on alcoholism and made the most of counselors and therapy and I was okay."

"Until George?"

"You haven’t been paying attention. I was screwed up before that. Do you know ... I lived in the basement of the hospital for nearly two years. I had a great apartment when I first got here, but I set fire to it twice by passing out while I was cooking and the landlord decided I had to go. So, I went to the hospital and smuggled shit down into the basement a little at a time. And I was happier there than I had ever been. I didn’t have to compete with anyone. I was the first doctor to show up for a page and I was able to hide from the world at the end of the day."

"Did you drink a lot then?"

"Not a lot. Just ... socially. As much as I didn’t want to be a doctor ... I can honestly say that it saved my life. Dealing with other people’s problems make you forget your own."

"So, what now?" Cam pulled her a little closer. "What happens from this point on?"

"In group ... well, it’s not really group now because it’s just me and this other woman who never comes around ... but ... in group ... people wrote letters to the people they were angry with and read them out loud. They burned the letters after that and I keep saying that I’m not angry and that I don’t have anyone to write a letter to, but that’s not true. Apparently you can’t get past step four until you do that and I’m already behind."

"What’s step four?"

"Make a moral inventory of yourself. Figure out why you’re screwed up. Alicia wants me to write those letters, Cam, and if I’m going to write them ... I’m going to share them. And feelings will be hurt."

"Then hurt some feelings." He kissed the side of her head. "You earned it."

*~*~*~*~*~

Leaving Callie was harder than anything he could remember. She hadn’t cried. Much. He knew that the reason the horizon held her attention was for his benefit ... so he wouldn’t see the tears blurring her eyes. He held up his fist before he boarded the helicopter and she had smiled for him. Together, they activated their Wonder Twin Powers and she had hugged him. It was the only hug he had gotten and he held on for as long as he could. She finally patted his back, asked him to give Alex a kiss, then threatened him within an inch of his life if he actually went through with it. He pressed his palm against the glass window from the inside and watched her until she was nothing more than a pink dot in the white snow. The flight back to Seattle was not long enough for him to collect himself completely and he was hoarse from the sobs when the pilot landed and powered down the copter.

He dried his face on his sleeve and reached for the handle, but the door opened before he could grasp it. Blake stood on the other side, his reddish blond hair lifting in the breeze. It never failed to amaze him that his heart could still flip, butterflies could still swarm his stomach, and he could want to smile no matter what ... every time he gazed at his boyfriend. Or ... ex-boyfriend. "Hey."

"Hey," Blake replied, not moving. "How’s Callie?"

"Hanging in there."

Blake nodded. "And you?"

"The same. Always the same."

Glancing at the pilot, Blake picked Cam’s jacket up and motioned for him to follow. Outside, a light dusting of snow was falling and he opened it for the taller man, slipping it onto his broad shoulders. "How was Alaska?"

"Did you really come here to ask me about the weather?" Cam adjusted his collar, pulling his long hair from beneath it. "Because weather dot com would be much more sociable than me right now."

"I’m leaving for an assignment in four hours. I came here to talk to you before I went. Can - can I drive you to Callie’s? I rented a nice car."

Cam shook his head. "No."

"No?"

"I’ve got my own car and if you went to Callie’s ... my mother would probably choke you."

"If there was better lighting out here ... you would see that I’ve already felt Melana’s wraith. She slapped the shit out of me."

"Go Mom."

"You’re gonna make this really hard."

"Yep."

Blake ran a hand over his face, exhaling loudly. "You told me that we didn’t have to work together to be together. Have you really changed your mind that fast?"

"Have you?"

"Don’t I always?" Pointing toward the car, Blake added, "Can we get out of the snow please?"

"My car," Cam replied, leading the way to the hangar where he had parked his car which was technically Callie’s car, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for the fact that Blake was there and whether it was four hours or four minutes ... it was amazing. Sliding behind the wheel, Cam waited for the other man to get in, then he backed up and let the engine run, hoping it would heat the car enough to chase away the cold. "I’m sorry that I didn’t discuss my decision to leave with you. I literally decided to do it fifteen minutes before I resigned and I had just found out that Callie was gone and my mom had hit her and -"

"Wait ... Mel hit Callie?"

"Yeah. You don’t know what’s been happening. Callie saw that video of me saying that I wanted her dead and she went and got drunk, wrecked her car -"

"She *drove*."

"Yeah."

"Go Mom."

Cam shook his head. "It really hurt her. Mom, I mean. She’s taking it hard."

"Well, it didn’t impact her ability to hit hard." Blake rubbed his cheek, studying Cam’s profile. "I think maybe you took it worst of all."

"Yeah. It’s been bad." Tracing the leather patterns on the steering wheel, he bit his bottom lip. "Even when Mom had nothing to do with me ... even when she was furious and threatened me every time she saw me, and even when she was rude about you ... and believe me that killed me ... it didn’t feel this bad. Dad’s miserable. Mom’s miserable. Callie’s stuck in the middle of nowhere trying like hell to salvage her life and I don’t know what to do to help. I feel like they’re all in a life boat and I’m trying to pull them to shore and I can’t swim because I’m terrified of what’s in the water."

"Well, I’m a really good swimmer." Blake took his hand and squeezed it. "And I’m sorry. I overreacted. If leaving the CIA makes you happy then it makes me happy and since I made it very clear that this is my last mission ... I can go so far as to say that I’m actually relieved that it’s over. We can live that boring life we made fun of other people for and I won’t complain. I’ll crunch numbers for your dad or work in fast food if it comes to that. I just ... I need you to tell me that we’re okay."

Cam smiled at him. "Aren’t we always?"

"I love you."

"It’s high time you realized that because I was about to turn Mark gay. I was this close." He held up his fingers. "He’s already wearing my clothes."

"After Addison kills you ... I’m next in line." Blake leaned across the console and gave him a kiss. "I’m going to Greece. The ritual will go ahead and it’s enough to lure Leon out. We have footage of him arriving at the airport there a few days ago."

"But ... who will they use? Callie’s in Alaska. Only a female in the Karakas line can start that fire."

"I realize that the supernatural aspect of your father’s dabbling freaked you out too much to research it ... but it was in the video he showed us at Bounty’s Keep."

"I blocked out most of that."

"He said that when someone hurts a person ... the victim’s blood stains their soul. What he didn’t tell us is that when you dabble with someone’s life, even if you don’t take it, you get imprints of that person inside you. Izzie Stevens hurt Callie really, really bad. And if you recall ... she saved Callie’s life by taking her DNR paperwork. So, from a parapsychological perspective ... having Stevens there to bleed on that slab is just as good as having Callie because she’s fucked with her enough to be covered in her."

"And she’s in Greece?"

"Eros convinced her to go."

"So ... he’s still in?"

"All the way."

"Jesus Christ." Cam leaned his head against the wheel. "I’m going with you. I have to."

"I knew you’d say that. I got your clearance."

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 27
Alex woke up early and instinctively reached for the laptop. It was habit now, to reach for the cold comfort of the computer instead of the warmth of his wife. When a sleepy grope of the bed turned up nothing, he sat up and turned on the lamp. The laptop was not where he had left it. Getting to his feet, he pulled on a pair of pajama pants and trudged barefoot down the hall and into the living room. Raphael was sitting on the sofa with the computer in his lap. He glanced up at Alex and said, "There’s nothing new. I just ... I wanted to watch her video again. She looked happy, didn’t she?"

"Do you want me to lie to you or tell you the truth?"

Raphael closed the notebook and set it on the table. "She’s homesick."

"She’s more than homesick," Alex replied. "She’s holding back. That’s why she doesn’t want her meetings filmed and that’s why she’s talking about the weather, the panther, and skiing."

Raphael looked up at him. "But she also talked to you about what it feels like when you leave. So she’s not holding back that much, is she?"

"Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the reason she’s there ... am I?"

The tightening in Raphael’s jaw was apparent. "I’d say we all played a part."

"Some more than others."

"Is there something you want to say to me, Alex?"

"I worked on a ten year old girl yesterday. She had fallen from the roof of her house after her father, who was patching the shingles, asked her to bring up the hammer he had dropped. Cute kid. Long brown hair, freckles. It was just an accident, but her father is still being charged with endangerment." Alex didn’t blink. "From where I’m standing ... you’re just as guilty as he is. Callie’s all messed up inside just like that little girl ... because you asked her to bring the hammer and she brought it ... every single time."

Raphael nodded. "Yes, she did. Callie was always very obedient with me."

"And you used that against her," Alex replied. "You knew that she preferred you over Melana and *that* is why you let her be your partner. Not because she wanted it or because she had no fear ... but because you knew that out of all your kids ... she wouldn’t tell. She was a daddy’s girl and instead of protecting her from all the things that you found out were true ... you told her to jump into the middle of it and not be scared."

"I am fully aware of what I did to her, son." Gesturing to the seat next to him, he added, "Sit down."

Alex looked like he wanted to decline the offer, but he didn’t. He flopped down beside his father in law and crossed his arms over his bare chest. Without realizing he was doing it, his thumb traced the tattoo of Callie’s kiss over his heart. "You may be fully aware of what you did ... but do you care?"

Raphael took a deep breath. "You know the answer to that. I’m not perfect. I made a mistake. I didn’t realize it was hurting her."

"How could you not?"

"She was always happy, Alex. Always smiling and ready to go and do whatever we needed to do. She always had a wisecrack or something to say that made me think she was fine. She laughed, she played around, and she never gave me any indication that it was too much. I thought I knew her better than anyone did. I thought for sure I would have seen if something wasn’t right, but I didn’t. And I can’t change that now so don’t you dare ask me if I care. You haven’t exactly been perfect either."

"I didn’t say I was."

"The last thing we need to start doing is tearing each other apart. So, if you have a point to make then make it before you piss me off."

"Okay, here goes ... until I met Callie, I didn’t believe in anything. I didn’t believe in God. I didn’t believe in love or marriage or family. I didn’t believe in anything. Callie has taught me something about *everything*. And when I think of what you did to her ... I hate you."

Turning his head, he met Raphael’s eyes. "And I don’t want to hate you because up until I found out about FMC ... I had you on a pedestal. I didn’t want to be like my own father ... I wanted to be like you. You welcomed me into your family when you didn’t have to. You didn’t make it hard on Callie when she wanted to divorce George and you made sure that I knew you’d gut me if I did anything to hurt her and I respected you for that. I respect you for the way you look out for her *now*, but I hate you for what you did *then*."

"For what it’s worth ... I hate you sometimes too." Raphael smiled. "She’s not a daddy’s girl anymore. She’s yours. I’ve never been one to share, but I’m happy to share her with you. And I’m also happy that you could tell me what you think this way. You’re mad at me and I understand why ... and you made me understand without yelling or leaving or losing your cool."

"I don’t have to be like my father," Alex said. "My past doesn’t make me who I am and fearing it doesn’t help me. It’s what happens *now* that matters. And Callie doesn’t have to let her past hurt her, either. She can start fresh. And I think she will."

"I spoke with Cam this morning. He went to see her." Raphael chuckled at the look of outrage on Alex’s face. "Before you take ten steps back let me assure you that I already opened both barrels on him. From what he said, she really needed to hear that you had not left her. And ... she’s angry at Melana and me for things that we didn’t do when she was growing up. Her doctor told him that Callie has hit a roadblock in terms of her treatment and she has to get past that anger in order to move forward. Cam promised me that Callie was going to do that, Alex, and we’re ready for it. Melana and I are both ready to listen to whatever she has to say."

Alex digested that for a while. When he spoke again, his voice was low. "Did he say anything else?"

"Just that her whole demeanor changed when she found out you had stayed." Raphael patted him on the arm. "I think knowing you’re waiting will give her a much needed burst of confidence and she’ll do what’s required of her more easily."

"So, where is Cam now?"

"He’s reconciling with Blake. They’ll be here for Christmas."

"I’m so kicking his ass for not taking me."

"I may help you out there."

*~*~*~*~

At Freedom Ridge, Callie had been awake and trudging through the snow for nearly an hour. Achilles had not returned to the cabin the previous night. The water she had left out for him had frozen and the meat that she had scavenged from the kitchen remained untouched. She was making a second pass through the woods when Jonesy appeared on a snowmobile and insisted that she get on. She could hear engines behind her and knew that the counselors had joined the search for the big cat. For nearly two more hours, they searched high and low for the panther, but saw no sign of him. Jonesy delivered her back to her cabin and helped her up the stairs, telling her that she needed to pack. A massive storm was approaching and until it finished with them, it wasn’t safe to walk back and forth to the kitchen or for sessions. Callie did as he requested, gathering her camera and her laptop and stowing both in her bag before she climbed back on the snowmobile and rode to the main building.

Inside, she found a delectable spread of food and slumped into one of the many empty chairs to pick at her breakfast. Achilles had been chasing a deer the previous day, running with his belly close to the snow as he darted left and right. Surely he was enjoying the fresh kill beneath one of the cabins and out of the harsh elements. Surely. She glanced up when Cherra, the elusive writer, pulled out the chair across from her. The woman’s ebony skin was flawless and she gave Callie a genuine smile, which Callie returned with some effort. "It’s cold as hell out there," Cherra said, extending her hand. "You’re Callie. I’m Cherra. That’s out of the way, now let’s eat."

They gripped hands briefly, then Cherra dug into her bacon and eggs. Callie continued to push hers around on her plate. Clearing her throat, Cherra said, "You don’t eat much."

"I’m not hungry."

"In those photos that you passed around at group the other day ... you weren’t skinny. Right now ... you’re skinny. I think you look better the other way." Cherra plucked a piping hot biscuit from the basket and held it out to her with the tongs. "Bread. It does a body good."

Callie lifted her plate and let her drop it on it. "I didn’t think you were paying attention to those photos."

"Wasn’t that your twin that I saw here yesterday?"

"Oh shit."

"Yeah, oh shit. I was in the hallway when he told Alicia that he was your doctor from Seattle. He was convincing, but he looks so much like you there’s no way she was fooled. She still let him see you, though."

"I wonder why."

"Because every single time you mention him ... you look like you want to cry." Cherra chewed her breakfast thoughtfully. "If I noticed it ... you can bet that she did."

Callie pulled the biscuit apart and put butter and jam inside it. She took a bite and let her gaze wander to the fireplace, which was blazing. Rags, a red fox, had stretched out in front of it on his back and was sleeping soundly. As she watched, a large housecat pounced on the fox, causing it to yip and chase the cat into the hallway. "Did you ever think one day that *this* would be your life?"

Cherra shrugged. "I pretty much spent most of my days hoping for the courage to do this. I needed help. I’m leaving tomorrow convinced that I got it. You only have thirty days here from start to finish. That’s seven hundred and twenty hours and if you don’t make the most of it ... then you’ll come back ... and you’ll ask the next person if they thought this would be their life. You’re going to get stuck in a cycle if you don’t work harder."

Callie met her eyes. "You don’t know me."

"I don’t have to know you to know that we’re in the same boat. You know the one ... where you paddle or drown." Cherra finished off her breakfast and got to her feet. "In case you were wondering ... you dropped the paddle. So find it before you tip over."

Not replying, Callie watched the other woman put her tray away and head down the hallway. After she finished her biscuit, Callie opened up the laptop and logged into her public blog. Outside, she could see that snow was already sticking to the windows and the wind was howling around the building. It made her feel cold inside, lost. As she waited for the computer to boot, she thought about Seattle Grace. Inside the walls at that very moment ... her friends were saving lives. Or losing lives, depending on the situation. Life and death was something a doctor stared in the face every single day. It shocked her when she realized that she wanted to be *home*, but not necessarily at the hospital. Knowing that Alicia would read her words, she guarded them, but she had something important to say nonetheless. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as words she had held for too long took flight and she hoped that they would resonate with her audience.

"Hey,

"There’s a blizzard coming so I’m out of the cabin and in the main hall. I was up before dawn walking all over the place looking for Achilles. He didn’t come home last night and I don’t know where he is. The last time I saw him he was chasing after a deer ... all muscle and force. It was almost majestic to watch him go, to watch him dig his paws so far in the snow that it sprayed out behind him like a fountain. He’s so tame that I had forgotten he’s still a big cat at heart. For the past few days he sat in the window most of the time looking out. It makes me wonder if he felt as trapped in the cabin as I do sometimes. Yeah, I said trapped. When I used to sit and think about the future ... I saw myself flying commercial jets. Big, ugly passenger planes full of people trying to go on vacation or get home for the holidays. I saw myself shaking hands after I landed and looking those people in the eyes and knowing that I had delivered them safely, that I had done a good job. I never, ever, imagined that I’d spend years in school and then work as a doctor. As a rule I don’t like doctors. As a bigger rule ... I don’t like people ... and that’s what patients are.

"So, I’m trapped in a career that I didn’t really want, but I’m sorta glad to have. I mean, would I have met Alex and Addison if I wasn’t a doctor? I don’t think so. I guess that’s the silver lining. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that I have a decent job, but all of you are mistaken when you say that I chose ortho because it was full of boys. I chose ortho because I got to break things. I got to take out my frustration for the fact that I was there at all by smashing bones. That’s the only reason I chose ortho. I was mad and I wanted to pulverize something. As an added bonus ... ortho patients rarely die so I get to escape that at the end of the day. I don’t know how other doctors in high mortality fields deal with it. If I lose one person ... it stays with me. I remember every name, every face, and the time of death of every person I lost.

"That traps you ... whether you want it to or not.

"I feel like I’ve done what other people told me to do for most of my life. Mom wanted a singer ... she got one. Dad wanted a doctor ... he got one. And I got a dream. I can dream about flying ... I can even fly my own plane or perform in an air show, but that’s like giving a starving person one bite of a steak and telling him that he’s having broth for dinner. You taste what you want for the briefest time ... and then you go back to the reality ... where you’re on the ground and you’re not in the clouds ... you’re under them just like everyone else. A pilot doesn’t forget what it’s like to be in the clouds. A pilot doesn’t forget that view from the top where everything is so small that you feel like you’re seeing all that the world has to offer.

"A pilot doesn’t worry about falling and it feels like that’s all I ever think about anymore. Falling. If a patient is in pain ... I fell. I didn’t get there fast enough. If I forget one thing and a patient suffers ... I fell. I could have thought harder. If I take a drink at the end of the day like so many people do ... I fell. The wagon is lost to me. There are a lot of ways to fall and I keep finding every single one of them. I’ve fallen so low that I don’t even *see* the clouds anymore. I should be angry, but I’m really more sad than anything because a lot of people spend their whole life wondering what they should have been ... and I don’t have to do that. I know that my calling was to fly. And I guess I should just be grateful that I can do it now and then.

"But right now I’m not. Maya Angelou wrote a poem about why a caged bird sings. She said that ‘the free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream ‘til the current ends. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage. His wings are clipped, his feet are tied, so he opens his throat to sing’. I think that’s why I sing, too. What else is there?"

*~*~*~*~*~

Izzie decided that the view from the glass balcony was the best part about Bounty’s Keep. She stayed there as much as she could, talking to Willa while they sipped tea, or watching the sun rise and set alone. It was breathtakingly beautiful and she couldn’t get enough. Eros was constantly busy dealing with his family business and she was so wrapped up in exploring every nook and cranny that the mansion had to offer that she didn’t miss him. Much. He more than made up for his absence during the day by sneaking through the passages to share her bed at night. On the fifth night, she decided that *that* was the best part about Bounty’s Keep. No matter how tired she was, the second she heard the hidden doorway creak open, she would smile, sit up, and open her arms to him. Falling for someone had never been quite so surreal. He was the perfect man, she decided. Every morning when she woke up ... there was a note or a flower on the pillow beside hers and she wondered, not the for first time, if she was falling in love with him.

They had not said the words. He had told her he ‘adored’ her and she certainly felt the same, but she simply didn’t have the nerve to say what she was tempted to say. Love changed things and since she had been the first one to object when Callie and Alex had fallen in love seemingly overnight ... she knew that she should wait ... but it was there. Not since Denny had she felt her heart beat the way she felt it now. One look at him and everything changed inside her like a switch had been flipped. If it wasn’t love ... she didn’t really mind. Not *really*.

She was getting dressed for dinner when the secret passage doorway creaked open. She smiled and turned to greet Eros, but he wasn’t there. Her smile faded as she crept toward the door. Voices carried up from the passage and she slipped her shoes on, grabbing her sweater as she headed into the tunnel. It was dark, but she had traveled it many times so she knew where jagged stones surfaced from the ground and where the turns were. Wrapping her sweater a little tighter, she crept through the passage, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. She drew up short when the voices grew louder. Whoever it was ... they were just around the corner.

"You don’t understand! We need to do it tonight!"

"We cannot!" Eros replied. "She’s not ready. It takes days to purify a person and Izzie has not completed the process."

"But -"

"I know you want The Rose, father. I know that you need it to complete the task, but if we blow this then we also lose the window of opportunity. The stars will align in two more days and *then* we can go forward."

"Can you be sure that this girl will stay?"

"I can." Eros said. "Certainly."

"I can’t tell you how important this is, Eros. If you’re wrong about her connection with Callie then -"

"I’ve seen it. It’s true." Eros’s voice was calm, stoic. "Now, keep to the tunnels and don’t let Mother see you. Surely they’ve told her that you’re a wanted man by now."

"You don’t have to worry about me, son. Raphael and I found hiding places under this pile of rocks that you don’t even know about."

Izzie peered around the corner in time to see a beefy man who looked vaguely familiar squeeze Eros on the arm then walk toward the grotto. Eros went the other way, toward the kitchen. As quietly as possible, Izzie trailed Eros. She had only traveled the kitchen passage once however and she quickly realized that no flashlight in a darkened, jagged tunnel was a recipe for disaster. She tripped, falling forward onto her knees. A strangled cry was quickly silenced by a hand over her mouth and her eyes widened as someone big picked her up and headed back the way she had just come. She was crying, clawing at her attacker, and trying to scream when she realized that she was back in her bedroom.

"Shhhh! Izzie, it’s Cam."

She stopped struggling at once, going limp in his arms. He let her go and her eyes widened when Blake stepped out of the tunnel next. "What the hell is going on!?"

"We don’t have a lot of time so listen up," Blake said, pulling out a chair for her. "How much did Callie tell you about Talking Rock?"

"Not a lot," Izzie replied, taking a seat. "Why?"

"You don’t know anything about it?"

"Only what Eros has told me."

"Which is?" Cam prodded.

"That Callie’s grandfather died there and that there are rumors that it’s haunted. He keeps saying he’s going to take me over to see it and - what did he mean ‘purify’ me? What’s the rose? Who was that man in the tunnel? I’ve seen him before."

"That’s Leon. He used to work as Callie’s guard." Blake moved toward the main door, listening. "We need to hurry."

"Eros called him ‘father’." Izzie made a face. "That’s his dad? Ew."


"Yes," Cam replied. "Leon used to be my dad’s partner in the CIA and then he worked with him again doing some paranormal work."

"That’s not all he worked," Blake added, smiling. "He apparently worked Willa over pretty good."

"Again ... ew." Izzie shook her head. "One of you please tell me what’s going on."

"You know about FMC?"

"Some. Callie did tell me about that. You know, when we banished Randall McFry’s ghost or whatever that was." Izzie stared from one man to the other. "And?"

"And you’re a pawn." Blake leaned against the door of the passage, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bait, basically."

Cam put a hand on her shoulder. "Here’s the condensed version. Pay attention. Talking Rock is not just haunted. It’s cursed. There are a lot of theories as to why and a lot of old wives tales about it, but what my dad believed ... and what Leon believes ... is that the curse stems from a Rose of Jericho. It’s a resurrection plant and ... if you believe it ... it’s the reason the Jesus Christ came back to life."

"Huh?" Izzie asked, dumbfounded.

"The bible talks about Nicodemus. Well, Nicodemus put a Rose of Jericho in Jesus’ tomb and it was supposed to be destroyed within three days of doing its job. It wasn’t. It was stolen. That’s why Jesus died on the cross. If the rose had been destroyed then he would have had eternal life." Cam crossed his arms over his chest. "Many, many years ago ... my great, great grandfather was given what we believe to be the Rose of Jericho in question. Callie and my dad were convinced that it was somewhere on that island. Leon didn’t really give up the hunger to find it the way they did. They stopped searching. He’s been dabbling in all kinds of things and he’s convinced that your blood on the altar over there will guide him to where the rose is located."

"My blood? I’m not pure!" Izzie shot to her feet. "I’m very impure!"

"You own it, girlfriend, own your sin," Cam replied, patting her on the arm. "The only time that island ever gave up her flame willingly was for Callie. And because you’ve hurt her in the past ... you’re connected. In the spiritual world, that’s called ‘staining’. You’re stained with her blood."

"And you saved her life." Blake stepped away from the door. "She’s here today because you took her DNR papers and that makes the bond that the two of you share pretty significant."


"Who are you people?" Izzie demanded. "Can you let me out of The Twilight Zone? Or if there’s a hidden camera can you just go ahead and say ‘you’re on Candid Camera’ because I feel like I’ve gone crazy."

"I’m in the CIA," Blake replied. "And I can take you out of here if you want me to. I can have you back in Seattle in just a few hours."

"But," Cam interjected. "If you don’t bleed on the altar ... we’ll never know if Leon was onto something. My dad spent most of his life chasing this thing. I’d love to take it to him for Christmas."

"Okay, you know what?" Izzie said. "You are both insane. God, my life sucks. I finally get a boyfriend and he’s fucking crazy, too. All of you! Crazy!"

"That’s not quite true," Eros said, stepping from another passage that Izzie did not know about.

"Shit," Cam said, throwing his hands in the air. "There went the element of surprise."

*~*~*~*~*~

The bounce in Mark’s step was apparent to everyone. Patients commented on his jovial mood, co-workers playfully ribbed him about the never ending smile on his face, and left booties in his locker every other day. He didn’t mind. He carried them home every night and gently tucked them into his own sock drawer. His desire was to get to work on the nursery immediately, but Addison refused to start planning until they crossed the three month line. He would let her have that, but he had already bookmarked furniture online. Becoming ‘that’ guy had never been so attainable, he thought. Putting together baby furniture, stockpiling diapers, reading ‘Parenthood’ in the cafeteria instead of ‘Sports Illustrated’ ... all of that should have been emasculating ... but he had never felt more masculine or *real* in his life.

Today was Addison’s official examination and he could not wait. He practically sailed down the stairs and when he emerged from the stairwell, his heart was fluttering in anticipation. That anticipation rapidly turned to all out terror when he saw his wife at the end of the hallway covered in blood. The corridor seemed to stretch for miles as he rushed toward her, calling her name. He finally breathed when he was a few feet away and realized that the blood belonged to a woman on a stretcher. A woman whose face and throat had been slashed. A woman whose blood was running over the stretcher and soaking the floor. A woman who had flat lined.

"What can I do?" he demanded.

"She’s eight months pregnant," Addison replied, one hand between the woman’s leg. "We have to get this baby out. Now."

Mark took control, pulling the stretcher into a trauma room. He listened as Addison barked out orders and stripped the sheet from the patient’s body. And then, just like that, Addison was cutting into the woman’s abdomen and had lifted a tiny, blue baby that was ominously still into her arms. She clung to the infant briefly, then passed it to Alex, who set to work immediately, administering CPR. Saying nothing, Mark covered the mother and started to reach for Addison, but she shook her head, easing back the sheet and reaching for the suturing kit. He wanted to tell her to let one of the interns see to it, but he didn’t. Instead, he moved to where Alex was working on the baby and said, "How bad is it?"

"No pulse," Alex replied, compressing the little boy’s chest.

"Keep trying, Karev!" Addison snapped, not looking up from what she was doing. Her hands were shaking and her stitches were crooked and when she considered that no one would really care ... it was the breaking point. Hating herself for it, she felt her chin tremble and mumbled something to the baby faced intern who was working with her. The young girl stepped forward and took over. Not making eye contact with anyone, Addison left the room and headed straight for the bathroom, stripping off her gloves and yellow trauma gear as she went.

She was washing her face when the door opened behind her and Meredith walked in. She accepted the towel that the younger woman held out and then let herself be hugged. "I’m sorry. I’m a complete basket case. I hate hormones."

"That’s not hormones. That’s humanity," Meredith replied, patting her on the back. "You did everything right."

"Who would do that to a pregnant woman?"

"It was a carjacking. That’s what the police say. She had stopped to get gas and some teenage kids wanted her car, but she put up a fight because her daughter was in the backseat and she wanted to get her out."

"Jesus." Addison closed her eyes. "How’s her daughter?"

"They haven’t found her yet. They drove off with her in the car."

Her stomach recoiling, Addy rushed into a stall and vomited up the crackers Mark had insisted she eat for breakfast. She rested her hands protectively on her stomach, heaving with everything she had in her as images of what could be happening to the little girl flashed through her mind. She had not yet met her own children, but she had already started a journal for them, telling them all about her morning sickness and her hopes and dreams for them. The thought of someone hurting them was enough to make her blood boil and her heart turn icy cold. She was only a few weeks into her term and already ... she wanted to shield them from anything life could throw at them.

When the sickness passed, she pulled tissue from the roll and blotted her mouth. She turned to ask Meredith for a cup of water and found Mark instead. He held out a small cup of ice chips and stepped into the stall, hugging her. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "How’s the baby?"

Kissing the top of her head, Mark rubbed her back. "He didn’t make it."

"God dammit!" Addison moved past him, tossing the ice into the trash. Leaning over the sink, she splashed cold water in her face and fought to gain control of her emotions. "We spent years in medical school to learn how to help people, how to save lives, and in an instant ... in one second ... none of that matters. You know, when I read Callie’s blog today ... I thought she was crazy for saying what she did, but I’d much rather be flying right now. And I don’t even know how."

"What I’d much rather be doing is looking at *our* babies and we’re ten minutes late for the exam." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. "So let’s go meet the littlest Sloans. If my son is anything like me ... we’ll be able to tell that they’re both boys right now."

"They haven’t even developed that organ yet, Mark."

"I’m sure it was the first thing to develop on me."

She grinned at him. "Your ego is so impressive."

"That was the *second* thing to develop, baby, and it has to be impressive. Just look at me."

"I only thought the sickness had passed."

He took her hand and led her into the hallway, ignoring the look on Chief Webber’s face when he saw that Mark had been in the women’s bathroom. Puffed up with pride, he led her into the exam room that was going to be utilized for her exam and smiled at Dr. Bailey, who pointedly glanced at the clock. Addison moved behind the curtain to change into a gown and he happily threw and arm around Miranda and said, "Ready to see my two sons?"

Bailey made a face. "Lord, I remember this phase. Tucker walked around like a rooster, strutting his stuff and telling everyone that he was ‘the man’. You fools act like you’re the first, last, and best man to ever get a woman pregnant."

"I’m sure that I am where Addison is concerned."

"God help us."

Mark winked at Bailey and turned when Addy emerged from behind the curtain, he lifted her to put her on the exam table. He frowned as she dangled from his hands, however. "You’ve lost weight."

"Brilliant deduction, Watson," she replied, staring at him. "That’s what happens when you can’t eat."

Instead of putting her on the table, he deposited her on the scale and frowned. "Jesus Christ, Addison! You’ve lost a *lot* of weight!"

"It’s not like I’m trying!" Addison walked across the room again, rolling her eyes at Bailey as she hopped up onto the table and leaned back. "I’m so glad there’s no poison oak involved this time, Miranda."

"Poison oak?" Mark asked. "What do you -"

"I’ll ask the questions, Dr. Sloan," Miranda interrupted, pulling on gloves. She began the exam, asking cursory questions as she proceeded. After doing the pelvic, she checked the other woman’s breasts for lumps, frowning when Addison flinched. "Sorry."

"It’s okay. The only thing that comes close touching the morning sickness in terms of horrible is the breast pain."

Miranda nodded. "I remember it well and not very fondly."

As Bailey readied the sonogram, she asked about any known medical problems in either of their family trees. The newlyweds glanced at one another, but were unable to answer. Neither knew. Miranda changed her questioning when she saw the looks on their faces and instead asked about nursery plans and names. Answers were brief as she gelled Addison’s stomach and eased the sonogram over it, but when the image of their children filled the screen ... the uncomfortable moment passed completely. Clearing her throat, Miranda said, "My goodness. Losing weight hasn’t hurt a thing, Addison. You have two very strong heartbeats in here and everything looks perfect."

Pushing herself up on her elbows, Addison gazed at the screen, smiling. The morning sickness, the sore breasts, and the prospect of stretch marks and agonizing delivery was worth it. When Mark sniffled, she looked away from the monitor in time to see him brush a tear from his cheek. It should have been impossible, but she fell even more in love with him in that instant and everything in the world felt right.

Until she threw up on his shoes.

He simply took it in stride, however.

Addison made a mental note to tell Melana that she had been right. Mark was going to be a great father.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What’s going on?" Cristina demanded, arriving at the trauma room she had been paged to completely out of breath. She tucked her hair under her trauma scrubs and quickly pulled on gloves as the approaching ambulance drowned out what Alex was saying to her. "I can’t hear you."

"They found the little girl that was kidnapped," Alex repeated, trying not to take out his frustration over the entire situation on the wall behind them. He had been on edge since Addison had handed the non-responsive little boy to him earlier that day and he was hell bent that the girl would live. "It’s bad."

The ambulance screamed to a stop in front of the entrance and Alex wrenched the back door open. "What do we have?"

The EMT spoke rapidly. "Four year old unrestrained Caucasian female ejected from car in a high speed chase. She has multiple lacerations, contusions, and an open fracture in the left arm. B/P is fifty over palp, pulse is weak and thready. Blood staining under the victim is consistent with massive blood loss, blood bank was called en route to begin transfusions upon arrival. No identification at this time."

Gazing down at the little black haired girl, whose cranium was exposed from the gash in her head, Alex said, "Someone page Derek. Now."

George, who had been tying Cristina’s scrubs, rushed back into the ER to make the call. Behind him, Alex pulled the stretcher into the trauma room. Webber arrived and took over, but the doctors were already on autopilot. Orders were given anyway and everyone jumped in to save the life of a little girl whose infant brother lay in the morgue next to their mother. The fact that she would not be a big sister didn’t matter. The fact that her tiny heart would break over losing her mother was in no one’s mind as they set out to undo the damage she had sustained. The nightmares that a person would wake up to could *not* impact the fact that they had to wake up. Alex assessed the little girl’s broken ankle, her skinned knees, and the bone that had come through her wrist.

He was vaguely aware that Derek had arrived as he wrapped the child’s arm to staunch the loss of blood. Doctor’s gave up as a last resort and when the little girl flat lined, they didn’t view it as the end. It was merely another obstacle to overcome and that’s exactly what they did. Forty minutes after arriving, the girl had stabilized enough for emergency surgery. Alex, who had an anger management class scheduled, watched as his coworkers rushed the girl to the elevator and tossed his gloves into the wastebasket.

Across the room, Chief Webber cleared his throat. "Dr. Karev, are you okay?"

"I’m fine." Alex pulled off his cap, tossing it as well.

"And how is Callie?"

"We’re not allowed to talk to her, but I think she’s doing okay. She’s hanging in there."

Richard crossed the distance between them and spoke in a low voice. "She talked to you about the Board of Directors?"

"Yeah, of course she did."

"Well, they’re very pleased that she chose to get help, but they’re still concerned. I’m afraid that I may have to extend her medical leave a little longer ... until she can be evaluated."

"Evaluated by who?"

"There’s a protocol to follow for this type of thing. The Board employs a psychologist and they will want to speak to her and review her medical charts. I’m going to get the attendings to write letters in her favor and I’ll do the same. Hopefully ... we can get this squared away quickly and get her back at work." Richard put a hand on his shoulder. "She’s a good doctor and I’ll make sure they know that."

Alex thanked him and said goodnight, heading to the locker room. He showered, changed, and dressed in his street clothes, glancing down at the Rolex on his arm. He was going to be late. Luckily for him, the therapist’s office was adjacent to the hospital so he was able to walk over and not deal with traffic. Steg was in the empty lobby with a golf club, practicing his swing when Alex opened the door. The old man smiled at him and waved toward his office. "After you."

With a nod, Alex pulled his jacket off and sat down in his usual seat. He watched as Steg slid his iron back into the golf bag and said, "Today was a very bad day. I lost a baby and I found out that Callie doesn’t really want to be a doctor, but that doesn’t matter because she may not get to be anyway because of her problems and I care more than she does. She wants to fly all over the world and not be here with me and I swear to God ... I think I’d die if she did that."

Steg held out a bowl of hard candy. When Alex shook his head, he chose a butterscotch and slowly unwrapped it. "Why do you think she doesn’t want to be a doctor?"

Taking a deep breath, Alex told him about the blog that Callie had written and about her desire to fly commercial jets. "And she may go up for evaluation at the board, but who’s to say her heart will be in it?"

"You don’t know much about rehab, do you?" Steg asked, rustling the candy wrapper in his fingers. "What she says RIGHT NOW will not be the same thing she says when all is said and done. She’s taking things a day at a time and confronting specific aspects of her problem every day. She may feel like she doesn’t want to be a doctor at this moment, but tomorrow that could change. It likely will change because part of healing is to deal with things a piece at a time. This is a piece of her that she feels she was forced to do and instead of being angry that she’s admitting it ... you should be glad that she’s talking."

"What if she gives up? What if she comes home and tells me that she’s going to fly for Delta or some stupid shit like that."

"Then you discuss it with her, you tell her your concerns, and you don’t refer to anything she says to you as ‘stupid shit’ no matter how much you feel that it’s so."

Alex ran a hand over his newly shorn hair, resting his head in his palms. "What do I say to her when she comes home?"

"What do you want to say?"

"Everything."

"Pretend I’m her." Steg put the candy dish aside and sat back in his chair. "Say everything."

"You want me to pretend that -"

"I’m sure I’m not as pretty, Alex, but I’ll do. Go ahead."

Closing his eyes, Alex said, "I missed you and I’m glad you’re home. And if it’s all the same to you ... I don’t want you to leave again because I hate it. Minutes seem like hours and days seem like years when you’re gone and I can’t stand it. So ... be okay. I need you to be okay because I can’t do this again. I’m so damn tired of thinking things are fine and then they’re not. You exhaust me and you infuriate me and I love you so god damn much that I don’t care about any of that and I don’t regret it, baby, because you’re worth it. I just need you to be okay and stop playing with your life like it’s not important. Because to some of us ... it’s everything."

"You know what you didn’t say?"

"What?"

"You didn’t say that she has to be a doctor for you to love her. And that matters."

Alex nodded.

He guessed it did.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Izzie," Cam said gently, "say something."

"Anything," Blake added, kneeling down on one side of her. He put his hand on her leg and squeezed reassuringly. "I’m going to assume you’re in a state of shock if you keep this up. It’s been almost an hour since you spoke at all."

"I can make you talk," Cam assured her. "I once tickled Callie so much that she peed on Mom’s one of a kind Oriental rug, but that wasn’t really a bad thing because whoever decided to put Elvis’s face in the middle of a jungle pattern deserved to be pissed on."

Izzie leaned back in the chair and glared across the room at Eros. He was watching her intently and when she met his eyes, he looked away, abashed. "What do you want me to say, Blake?" she asked, still glaring at her ‘boyfriend’. "Should I say that it’s wonderful to be brought across the country to be a sacrificial lamb? Should I tell you that sleeping with the enemy feels really fucking good right now or do you want me to tell you that flinging myself off the glass balcony would probably hurt less than this?"

"I’m not the enemy." Eros got to his feet and paced the length of the room. "I was going to prepare you for this. I was. I just - I didn’t expect Leon to arrive here when he did and ... well, I was hoping he wouldn’t come at all and this entire thing could be forgotten, but he’s here. And you’re here. We need you for this, Izzie."

"What did you need me for when you were sneaking in here and climbing into the bed with me!?"

Eros stopped walking. "Will the two of you leave us alone?"

"No, they won’t." Izzie reached out, grabbing both Cam and Blake by their arms. "They’re staying."

"I don’t really want to discuss our sex life in front of them," Eros told her.

"If we don’t discuss *history* then we’re doomed to repeat it!" Izzie snapped. "And we’re history in case you didn’t get that already."

"Izzie, please." Eros ran a hand over his curly blond hair. "This is ridiculous. I didn’t betray you."

"You actually did." Blake shrugged when Eros glared at him. "I’m just saying. You did."

"I agree." Cam scratched the side of his chin. "I’m on her side. You should have told her what was happening before you brought her here."

"And what, pray tell, should I have said, Cambyses?" Eros threw his arms wide in aggravation. "How’s this ... ‘Izzie, I know you haven’t known me that long, but I’ve been sneaking around running FMC with the CIA’s approval, and I need you to come bleed on an altar because I can’t kidnap Callie to do it and the promise of blood will lure the jackals that we need to catch’ ... is that good?"

"Thinking you’re crazy would be a lot better than *knowing* you’re evil." Izzie closed her eyes. "I hate this. Every single time I think I meet a decent guy ... he either dies, gets married, or goes fucking ‘Punisher’ evil!"

"Uh, ‘The Punisher’ was a *good* guy." Blake smiled reassuringly at her. "But if it makes you feel better I’ll go along with it."

"He’s not *that* evil. Maybe not explaining it was, but he’s just like us," Cam offered. "For years, we’ve tried to put an end to The Triad. They were very, very invested in locating the Rose of Jericho. There are still approximately eight silent contributors to The Triad, contributors that I don’t even know, and I was in way over my head with their dirty business. So, the promise of locating this Rose ... of seeing the island give up her goods ... will makes these assholes appear and when they do ... they’re trapped. I know it sounds crazy, but we’re not evil ... they are. And you can help us stop them."

"I’m tired." Izzie brushed a tear off her cheek. "I just want to go to sleep."

"But you haven’t had dinner. My mother was cooking a -"

"Go to hell, Eros!" she said, eyes blazing. When he took a step toward her, she shot to her feet. "If you get near me ... you will be the one bleeding on that altar because I will slit your throat!"

Cam moved between the two blondes and held up his hands. "Calm down."

"Get him away from me."

"What are we going to do?" Eros demanded. "Izzie, are you out or are you in?"

"Obviously I’m in," Izzie replied, her face red. "I was in it the second I stepped on that plane and came here. I’ll do this stupid shit because you said it would save lives, but then I’m out. And you better NEVER come back to Seattle Grace because I never want to see your face again after this."

With that, she stalked to the door and opened it. "Get out."

Eros opened his mouth to speak, but Blake put a hand on his back and pushed him toward the door. "Just go. We’ll stay with her for a while. Hey, tell Willa she’s starving and bring up a tray of food for us, okay?"

With another look at Izzie, Eros nodded and left the room. Blake turned and watched as Cam tried his best to comfort her. He joined them and patted her on the back. "I know this sucks. I know it does." His eyes met Cam’s over her head. "You think you know someone and you get a pretty good idea in your head of what the rest of your life could look like, but then the rug gets pulled out from under you."

Cam’s eyes widened. "And on the flip side of that ... people face choices and maybe what you wanted at ONE time isn’t what you want now. Maybe you realize that the dangers of a job that you weren’t really happy with aren’t as important as the joy of being honest with your family so -"

"But one could argue that when you’re in love ... that person should be more important than family. They become your family."

"And another one could argue that the one arguing against family was the same one who pushed for a reconciliation between that family for years. And now it’s here and ... maybe it’s so great that you want to do anything to hold onto it."

Blake made a face. "Whatever."

"And my father happens to be very scary and for the entire flight to Virginia ... he laid out exactly what he’d like to do to me in vivid detail so I’m very sorry that your feelings are hurt by my sense of self-preservation."

Izzie rolled her eyes. "This is supposed to be about *me*. Can you focus?"

"We’re sorry." Blake took a deep breath. "I guess we should tell you what will happen once the ritual starts."

"I guess you should."

*~*~*~*~*~

"Let’s talk about your blog," Alicia said, picking up her notepad. "I feel that you made a lot of headway by speaking so frankly about your job."

Callie said nothing. She stared out the window, watching the snow blanket the earth. Group session when you were the only person there, she decided, was not very pleasant. Four of the counselors had decided to sit in with her and they had fired enough questions to blanket *her*. She was frozen to the core from the barrage. She knew that she was taking two steps back with her silence, but with her mind a jumbled mess she didn’t trust herself to say anything. The stillness in the room did little to alleviate the stress so she finally glanced at the clock and said, "It’s not that I don’t like my job. I do. There are days that I love it. I help people and I get paid really well to nap in on call rooms. I don’t like that my dad forced my hand, though. It pisses me off. I feel like he always makes my choices for me."

"Have you told him that?"

"No."

"Don’t you think you should?" Alicia watched her closely. "You have run the gamut of emotions since you got here. You’ve been sad, homesick, playful with the animals, happy, even scared at times. What you haven’t been is angry and you are angry so you need to let that out."

"I just did. I said I’m pissed."

"Say it louder."

"I’m pissed." Callie repeated in a clear voice. "But I’ll be fine."

"Do you want to go through life saying you’re fine when you’re not or do you want to confront what’s under your skin, get rid of it, and be better than fine?" Alicia leaned forward, putting her notebook aside. "I won’t even take notes. What would you like to say to your dad?"

"Thanks for ruining my life."

"Is that all?"

"Isn’t that enough?" Callie looked at the clock again. "My session is over."

"Fair enough." Alicia nodded at her. "Do yourself a favor ... write it down. You never participated in the letter reading sessions when the other patients were here. Even if you don’t share them with us ... write it down. You can burn it. You can rip it into a million pieces. You can wad it up and throw it into the wind, but write it down. You’ll be surprised at how much weight comes off with every word that you don’t keep inside."

An hour later, Callie was huddled under the cover in her room. It was smaller than the cabin and much colder thanks to not having a fireplace, but it would do. She had gone outside briefly to search for Achilles, but the snow was unbearable and Jonesy had spotted her. He had given her a ride back to the main hall on the snow mobile and assured her that he was still searching for the panther. The door creaked open and she lifted her head, peering out from under the blanket. She didn’t see anyone there and frowned. A moment later, Rags, the grubby looking little fox, stood up beside the bed and looked at her. His front feet were perched on the edge of her bed and she chuckled. "Want to get warm?"

As soon as she lifted the cover, the little fox leaped in beside her, walked in a circle, then settled beside her thigh. She patted him softly then pulled the cover over them. She stroked his fur as she thought about her family. Letters may not be a truly bad idea, she thought. She damn sure couldn’t say what she wanted on camera because she would inevitably leave something out and then post a follow up again and again. And she wouldn’t have the nerve to do it anyway because she’d probably fall apart and the last thing she wanted was for them to see her upset. That would hurt them more than anything she could say out of anger.

Burrowing into the bed, she closed her eyes and said a quick prayer.

Tomorrow would be letter writing day.

And her mind was already racing with what she wanted to say and for once ... she didn’t want to drink to hide from her thoughts.

She embraced it with everything she had.

*~*~*~*~*~

In Seattle, Derek stood at the foot of a little girl’s bed. Her black hair had been shaved and Mark had made it clear that the scarring on her body would be permanent, but Derek didn’t see any of that. What he saw was the most beautiful child in the world. His arms ached to pick her up, to rub her back, to sit in the corner and rock her in a chair, but he couldn’t. She would sleep for days on his orders because the surgery to repair her fractured skull required her not to move and maybe by the time she woke up ... her father would be there. So far they had no idea where the family was and she would need a family.

"Hey," Meredith said softly, putting her arms around his waist. "You did a good job on her."

Derek rested his hands over hers. "The littlest people seem to suffer the worst."

"Yeah." She didn’t need to say more. A bottle of champagne had loosened her tongue one night and she had shared everything in her childhood with him. The absentee father. The mother that resented her. Locking herself in her room when the yelling was so loud that it seemed to go through her. "You ready to go home?"

"Why are we waiting to get married? We’ve been together longer than any of our friends and they’re all married now. Addison’s going to have a family and Mark ... *Mark* ... is going to be a father before me." Turning, he looked down at her, smoothing her hair back. The familiar smell of lavender overwhelmed his senses and he leaned forward, kissing her forehead. "When you drowned and I didn’t know if you’d come back ... I sat in the hallway thinking about every second that we wasted. I thought about every night that I didn’t kiss you and every morning that I didn’t feel you next to me. I thought about all the things I should have said and all the things I didn’t do. I don’t want to wait. Tomorrow ... tomorrow you could be car jacked. I could fall in the shower and hit my head. I keep thinking that if this was my last night on earth ... I’d want to spend it with my wife. I don’t want to wait."

Meredith realized she was holding her breath. She swallowed and glanced at the little girl, then back at her fiancé. These were the moments, she thought, that overshadowed anything bad that could every possibly go wrong with her life. Derek was like a big, handsome bandage that covered every wound she had ever received until it was gone. Biting her bottom lip, she said, "I don’t want a big wedding. And I don’t want it to be a huge deal. I don’t have any family and you’ve already done the big ceremony thing so -"

"Are you saying that we can do this soon?"

She grinned. "Changing your mind?"

"Absolutely not." He hugged her, lifting her up to face level where he kissed the tip of her nose. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight.


Derek set her back on her feet and held out his hand. Together, they walked out of the hospital and into the night.

Every day ended the same. The sun went down and the exhausted hospital staff blearily made their way to their cars. If they were lucky ... they could leave the worst of the cases behind and take the best home with them. As Derek started the car, he glanced up at the sixth floor ... at the room that belonged to the nameless little girl. It seemed to glow brighter than any of the other rooms and he smiled at that. Tonight ... he was taking home the promise of forever and the hope that when the child grew up ... she would never regret the doctors that had saved her life. Because in saving her ... Derek was certain every physician involved had saved themselves a little.

*~*~*~*~*
CH 28
*~*~*~*~*



Mom,

You were shocked when you hit me the day after I drove drunk. You apologized until you couldn't talk anymore because you were crying so much. I didn't need to hear that you were sorry for that. What I need to hear is that you're sorry for not seeing me when I was a kid. You looked through me instead of at me. It was so easy for you to take down my picture when Cam and I sank Uncle Kick's yacht and you didn't think twice about telling people that your twins were out of the country. You introduced us as the 'hired help' and you didn't care that we were only ten years old and really needed you after nearly drowning.

I feel like I spent most of my life trying to get your attention in the way that I needed instead of the way you gave it. The only time you noticed me at all was when I sang so even though I didn't want to ... I did it as well as I could and you would tell me it was good, but never great. And when it was over ... it was back to normal for us. When you realized I was there ... you would send me away to a piano lesson or guitar lesson and I wanted you, but you wanted me gone. You scheduled my life so much that you saw me as little as possible. I was invisible.

I was pissed at you for most of my childhood because you thought that Cam being gay was a bigger deal than me painting my life black. I colored my walls, my hair, my face, and my nails with despair and instead of asking me why ... you dismissed it as a phase. What it was, Mom, was a cry for help and you didn't like me enough to listen. I think you love me now, but I think that back then ... you hated me for being so close to Daddy and taking him away from you every time I "ran". You resented me and it made me resent myself. I think that I don't take care of myself now because you didn't take care of me then. I don't care if I live or die a lot of the time because *you* didn't care.

I wasn't the daughter you wanted and I don't think I ever will be. I think about that all the time. How I fall short of your standards. How I let you down. I want to go back in time and tell you that I need you to help me outright since you didn't see how much I always did. I needed you to notice *me* instead of spending all your efforts to de-gay Cambyses because there was nothing wrong with him. But I was dying. I think I still die when I think about what we didn't have. We wasted more time than we’ll ever get back because you genuinely didn’t *like* me.

You're a good mother now. I trust you with all my secrets and I love you more than you'll ever know, but I will never forget the things you didn't do because when I have a child ... I don't want to make those mistakes. I remember how it felt to think that I was someone you were ashamed of, someone you despised because I was there at all. You always wanted a daughter ... just not me. And I won't forget that. Ever.

I forgive you for hitting me. It hurt a lot less than all the years I spent wishing that you *would* hit me. If you had hit me back then ... maybe I'd know that you cared enough to show me you didn't like me instead of what you did by pretending I wasn't there at all.

Callie


_________________________




Dad,

I remember dancing on your toes when I was little. I remember looking up at you and thinking that no man in the world could ever come close to you. You were my first best friend and when you read me fairy tales ... the hero was always you. You made me laugh, you held onto me when I cried, you taught me to be strong, and you didn't let a day go by without telling me you loved me. On your worst day, you were still the most important person in my life and I loved you so much that you could do no wrong, but you did.

I stopped being your daughter when you introduced me to FMC. I don't have to list the things here that I experienced there because you know. You were there for every horrible thing and instead of putting your hand over my eyes ... you forced me to see a dark side of life that terrorized me. To this day ... it terrorizes me. I hate it. I stopped being your daughter because a *father* would not have been so blinded by the unexplained that he would let the kid who idolized him suffer for it. And make no mistake ... I suffered.

I took my first drink less than six feet from you. I stood there praying you would notice that I was falling apart but you didn't. Just like Mom, you looked through me. I wanted you to smell it on me and ask me why because I wasn't strong enough to tell you that you were killing me. I would rather disappoint you by drinking than disappoint you by not being as fearless as you wanted me to be. But you didn't smell it. You didn't see it. You didn't care that I was shattering every day. You saw the prize at the end of a tunnel that killed thirteen people, but I was dead inside long before that.

When I dyed my hair black ... you could have asked me why and because I did it just to get you to do that ... I would have told you that the dark you introduced me to was closing in on me and I could hide easier if everything was black. But in the daylight, where you could see me, I stood out like a sore thumb. I wanted to tell you that I was drinking and it was rapidly becoming my first thought and last thought of the day and beg you to help me.

At some point ... you stopped being the hero in the fairy tale and became the villain. Instead of saving me ... you sacrificed me. Instead of holding me ... you let me go. Instead of making the dark a safer place ... you threw me to the wolves and watched them pick my bones until nothing was left of me except the robot that said "yes, daddy" when my entire being was screaming "no" so loud that it deafened me. It deafened you, too. Because you didn't hear me.

And that's not okay. You love to make excuses for me. You tell Mom to leave me alone. You blame everyone except me even when we both know that I'm wrong. You let me get away with whatever I do because you don't hold me accountable. And it's not because you see that little girl who danced on your feet looking back at you. It's because I guarded your secrets and you want to let me have a free pass for that. I don't want a free pass. I don't want you to spoil me or give me anything I want. I don't want you to threaten me with feeding tubes or rehab or taking my plane ... I want you to DO IT. I want you to punish me the right way instead of the way you did.

I think of FMC as my punishment, Daddy. That was my hell. It was my greatest fear and my biggest obstacle and I created an alcoholic haze to forget it. I'm sober now, though, and I can tell you without hesitation that you let me down. You broke everything that was innocent and happy in me and I don't forgive you for that. I will NEVER forgive you for that. The sins of my father burned a hole right through my soul and I wear the scars that you gave me. I wear them well.

I never doubted your love when I was a kid, but I doubt it now. Hind sight is twenty twenty and I don't think I was ever Daddy’s Little Girl. I think I was Daddy's Little Whore who you pimped out to the highest bidder and looked the other way as I was stripped of anything that resembled a normal life. That pisses me off, but it destroys me more. You aren't what I always believed and you never can be.

Callie



*~*~*~*~*~

"Melana." Raphael wiggled the doorknob to the bathroom. He could hear his wife sobbing despite the fact that the water was running inside at full blast. He had known her for more years that he hadn’t and any time she was distressed ... he felt it long before it was confirmed. Today was no different. In the middle of throwing a stick for Chunk he had stopped, rubbed a hand over his chest, and looked back at the house. He *knew*. "Honey, please. What’s wrong?"

When she didn’t answer, he went into Callie’s bedroom and rifled through her bureau until he found a bobby pin. Since his snooping also allowed him to see handcuffs and an assortment of other unmentionable things that he didn’t want to think about, his hands were shaking when he finally started to pick the lock. When his wife started to vomit, he gave up trying and loudly knocked. "Open the door!"

An insistent tugging on his leg forced him to look down. Gucci was standing upright, holding a key. Raphael leaned down to accept it and was shocked when it easily opened the door. "Smart ass monkey," he mumbled, pushing it open.

Gucci darted into the bathroom and scurried up Melana’s back, gently rubbing her head. She was kneeling in front of the toilet and the capuchin looked at Raphael as if he had somehow caused it. Wetting a cloth, he smoothed her hair back and laid it on her neck. Gucci patted it, making sure it was in place. Squatting beside her, Raphael said, "Honey -"

"I never should have been a mother."

"Mel-"

"She thinks I didn’t like her!" Melana sobbed, reaching up to flush the toilet. "She thinks I -"

"What -"

"She wrote it, Raphael! Cambyses told us she was going to and I said I was ready for it, but I’m not. I hate this! I hate that she’s out there thinking things that aren’t true and -"

"Get up." Bending down, he lifted her to her feet and took the cloth from her neck, wiping her face down with it. "I haven’t read it yet, but I’m sure that you’re wrong about -"

"I can’t stand it," she cried. "And she hates you!"

"What?" Raph backed up, leaning against the wall as if the force of what Melana implied was enough to knock him over. "Did she say that?"

"I don’t want you to read it," Melana said, wiping her eyes. "Just ... leave it alone."

"No. No, if she has something to say to me ... I want to hear it." He half staggered from the room like every step took him closer to facing the devil himself. In the bedroom he had been sharing with his wife, he found the laptop open.

Melana swooped past him and slammed it shut, trying to unplug it from the wall. He easily wrestled it from her grip, causing Gucci to run down her arm and kick him twice. "Control that animal before I put him in a cage!"

"Animals are intuitive! He knows this will kill you!" Melana reached for the computer again, but he moved it over his head. "I read your letter, Raph, and it’s worse than mine and that’s saying something. If you wait a while ... I think she’ll take it down and then you won’t have to see it because -"

"Stop!" He lifted it even higher when the monkey tried to retrieve it for his mistress. "You got to see yours so let me see mine!"

"Look at what it did to me!"

"You should be happy that I’m on the way to being destroyed! You’ve made it very clear that I deserve it!" Stalking past her, he locked himself in the bathroom, taking her place. Sitting on the commode, he opened the computer and took a deep breath. Reading Melana’s letter was hard and he had to close his eyes several times.


Reading his own was a slow death.

He read it once and closed the computer, setting it on the sink. A bead of sweat ran down his back and he slowly got to his feet. Feeling woozy, he sat back down, this time on the rim of the bath tub. Reaching behind him, he turned the cold water on and splashed his face. His eyes fell on the computer and he reached out, putting his hand on it. It was warm and his chin trembled as if he was touching Callie. "Oh, Mija," he said softly. "Oh god."

With his face in one hand he conjured up the image of Callie at twelve years old. She was still at the ponytail phase and she wore it so long that it was constantly getting caught in equipment or car doors. After a rough mission, he liked to run his fingers through it. Like silk, it softened the edges of the hard day and reminded him what he was fighting for. And she would lean her head against him, wrap her arms around him, and tell him that it was okay. He had been a fool to believe that it was. He had been blind and unfair and wrong in every way possible. When she asked him to stop tucking her in at night ... he never questioned why. He thought she was simply growing up and away from him, but now he knew that she was drinking. And he had done that to her.

"Raphael!" Melana pounded on the door, crying again.

It never failed to break his heart when she spoke his name that way. It was the same way she had cried it when Loukas was born and the umbilical cord had been around his neck. She called his name as a plea, begging him to make it right. He got to his feet again because she needed him to and if he could help one of the two most important women in his world, he would. As he stepped forward, his eyes landed on the laptop again and he took a deep breath. Wordlessly, he picked it up, brought it over his head again, and threw it into the bathtub where it broke apart.

It made him feel slightly better.

He had broken the thing that broke his wife.

He could think about himself later.

Opening the door, he stepped into her arms and buried his face in her hair. It was also like silk, he thought, cupping the back of her head. "It’s okay."

"It’s not. I’ve been blaming you all this time for what you did to her and we both did it. We both caused this and ... we have to fix it."

"We will."

"How?"

"Together, mi vida. Callie needs us to be strong and on the same page from here on out." He leaned back, smoothing the tears off her face. Feeling the wetness under his fingers forced his own to fall and in a trembling voice, he added, "You will never know how sorry I am. Never."

"As sorry as I am so I know exactly where you’re coming from." She leaned against him again. "What have we done to our baby?"

*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey," Alicia said, gently shaking Callie awake. "You didn’t make it to your morning session. Are you okay?"

Callie, whose eyes were nearly swollen shut from crying so hard as she wrote her letters, shook her head. Sitting up, she didn’t think twice about accepting the hug the other woman offered. "I just really want to go home."

"That’s always up to you, but I don’t think you should leave the program early." Leaning back slightly, Alicia grinned at her. "But if you wanted to blow this joint for a couple of days and go into the city to shop with me ... I wouldn’t be opposed."

That got her attention and Callie smiled. "I signed paperwork saying I wouldn’t sneak off."

"I own the place. If I want to bend the rules until they break ... I can. How fast can you be ready?"

"Fifteen minutes?" Callie pushed her cover back, causing the little fox to move further down the bed toward her feet to remain covered. Laughing for what felt like the first time in weeks, she hopped out of the bed and quickly dressed for their trip. She wasn’t exactly sure which city Alicia had in mind or if it would involve snow mobiling to get there, but the prospect of putting Freedom Ridge and her recovery out of her mind for a day or two wasn’t bad in the least.

When she walked into the main hall with an overnight bag, Alicia was waiting for her. Jonesy took their bags and led Callie a back way that she had never seen before. As he opened the door and a swirling of snow blew in, Callie saw the helicopter on the other side, resting on a helipad. Alicia grinned at her and held up the keys. "You drive. I want to enjoy the scenery."

"Seriously?"

"You can, right?"

"Well, yeah, but -"

Alicia tossed the keys. "You’re not a caged bird now. Let’s fly."

Within minutes, they were lifting up over the main hall and Callie’s heart was pounding in time with the blades. She adjusted the headpiece to listen to the Jonesy’s commands and glanced down at the flight plan again, adjusting their direction accordingly. With the throttle in her hand and her feet on the pedals, she took a deep breath and gazed out over the landscape. Freedom Ridge was beautiful. Despite the snow, several animals had decided to prowl the grounds and for the briefest moment, she was convinced that she saw a streak of black, Achilles, running under the helicopter as if he were chasing them, but when she looked again ... it was gone. Her thoughts stayed on the panther for a while as she headed toward Anchorage.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Well, what do you think?" Blake studied Izzie closely. Her blond hair had fallen into her eyes and she had not pushed it back. He was tempted to do it for her, the same way he always did for Cam, but the flaring of her nostrils prevented him from attempting it. "Sound like a plan?"

She didn’t move. "It sounds like you people have watched too many episodes of ‘Charmed’ or something. And why do I have to be the damsel? It’s the blond hair and the big boobs, right?"

"It’ll be more realistic if you act afraid." Cambyses told her. "Most women who were going into this unaware would freak out so ... freak out. Scream, try to run, whatever you need to do. But make sure you get your blood on that altar. Okay?"

"You’ll be safe," Eros added. "I give you my word."

"Oh yay," Izzie replied sarcastically. "The word of asshole. I’m saved!"

Cam flinched when he saw Eros’s face fall. They had been friends since birth and that friendship had only ever been threatened by Eros and Callie’s romantic involvement. He caught the man’s eye and shrugged apologetically, as if he was somehow responsible for Izzie’s mood. Eros looked away, but Cam plowed ahead, his voice upbeat. "I’d just like to point out that we are way better looking than those shrews on ‘Charmed’. And we have to all be on the same page. Anger, aggravation ... that needs to stay out of this. Izzie, the worst mistake you can make is to make this personal. Just keep the emotions out of it and -"

"Keep the emotions out of it?" Izzie cried, leaping to her feet. "I thought I was falling in love with him!"

"You did?" Eros perked considerably.

"It was a brain fart. I’m over it." The trembling in her chin suggested otherwise and he moved toward her. She held up a hand and said, "I will kick your pathetic Greek ass if you come over here. I mean it."

"You’re upset and I can’t stand that." Eros closed the distance between them in three long strides. He put his hands on her shoulders, waiting for her to look at him. "I know that I’m falling in love with you."

Izzie gasped animatedly. "Really?"

"Really," he replied, his eyes not leaving hers.

She sank her knee into his crotch, felling him. "What about now?"

Time seemed to stand still. Eros’ eyes widened, he gasped, them grunted, and then emitted a high pitched squeal that was close to ear splitting. He dropped to the floor, red faced, his palms cupped over his groin. Izzie nodded with satisfaction and said, "Score."

"I’m so glad I’m gay," Cam said, cringing in sympathy. He caught Blake’s eyes, the Blake that had given him the cold shoulder the previous night, and said, "Don’t get any ideas."

Blake simply smiled at him. "Be afraid. Be very afraid."

"Get. Ice." Eros grunted, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the thick Aubusson carpet that covered the floor.

The mini-fridge in the corner was hidden behind a panel of dusty wainscoting, proof that it had not been disturbed for many, many years. Cam opened it and peered inside, his stomach lurching slightly. A thermos that he remembered seeing in Callie’s hand more often than not as children sat inside the musty smelling refrigerator and when he reached for it and turned the lid, his hand was trembling. He could smell the alcohol before he twisted the lid open and quickly screwed it back in place, setting it aside. He would use it for target practice later. He flipped open the lid that hung over the small freezer and his heart dropped. Three more bottles of alcohol were resting on their side, between the antique metal ice trays that were thankfully full. He tried not to think about Callie kneeling in this very spot, putting those bottles in there to chase away her ghosts. It fueled his determination to finish FMC’s quest, find the Rose of Jericho, and give it to his father. Putting it to rest once and for all should clear his twin’s mind and bury whatever haunted her so deep in Hell that it could never touch her again. Retrieving the trays, he made a makeshift ice pack with a shopping bag and tied it off.

Eros gingerly slipped it into the front of his pants, moaning thank you, then he laid flat on his stomach, moving his hips almost perversely as he tried to settle his destroyed cock comfortably on the cubes. When he sighed and went motionless a moment later, they knew he’d found the spot. With a look of total satisfaction, Izzie sat down in the chair she had vacated and picked up a croissant that had been drizzled with honey and resolutely took a bite. As she chewed, she said, "Mmm, this is good. So, you want me to cry, scream, moan about being a sacrificial lamb and then let them cut me, right?"

Blake glanced down at Eros, whose fingers were digging into the carpet now. "Uh ... maybe we should retire the damsel thing before it even starts. Maybe you should be the angry victim instead. You know, cuss, fight, be aggressive, and ... that’ll come easier for you ... I think."

"Fine by me." Picking up her fork, Izzie dug into the fluffy scrambled eggs that were sure to melt in her mouth. She savored it, not glancing down at Eros again.

For good measure ... she ate *his* breakfast, too.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Absolutely not," Alicia said, staring up at the neon sign. "I mean, being impulsive isn’t really a bad thing, but you’re in treatment and you’ve had an emotional time lately so this could be perceived as something you want to do to cause physical pain to offset the emotional. Cutters do it all the time. So, my vote is no."

Callie grinned at her. "Stop rationalizing. Sometimes the best decisions are the spur of the moment ones. I mean, I ran away with a guy while I was married to a cheating guy on the first day he even kissed me. We didn’t even KNOW that we wanted to be together and then all of the sudden we were flying to California and I was getting attacked by lobsters and he was unsure of what I was thinking about him and I was going crazy from thinking about him, but then we got married and I never second guessed it. Ever. It was the best, spur of the moment, throw caution to the wind, decision I ever made."

"Okay, that’s all well and good," Alicia replied. "But what will getting a tattoo do for you?"

"Well, for starters ... I like them. And it’s my body. And my choice." Callie took a deep breath. "And my parents do not approve at all so if I can do something that *I* want for a change then it makes me feel like I’m still here. I’m still me. I don’t have to be who they want. I don’t think the emotional pain can go away for a very long time, but I think the anger I feel can translate nicely to a tattoo that will remind all of us that I am not a trained monkey who jumps through hoops. For anyone."

Alicia put her hands on her hips. "Nice. I’ll call this a breakthrough and support you."

Three hours, two tattoos, and a belly button ring later, Callie grimaced as she zipped herself back into her coat. The tattoo on the underside of her right wrist was aching, but she had to smile when she looked down at it. The one on her left hand wasn’t quite so painful, but the fact that she had to wear her wedding rings on her necklace certainly was. The wedding band she’d had tattooed on her ring finger was simple, but perfect. It said ‘Forever’ in tiny letters on top and the underside boasted her anniversary, July fourth. Alex, she thought, would understand. She had taken her rings off far too easily in the past and now ... even if she made that mistake again ... she couldn’t remove that it was forever. It simply was.

After walking what felt like eight thousand miles under the heavy weight of shopping bags, Alicia announced that they should sleep at a local hotel and not try to fly back in the dark. Callie readily agreed and flopped down on her queen sized bed with a sigh of relief. Room service never sounded better and she happily ate her steak while she chattered about growing up in Miami and spending summers in Greece. While she ate her Key Lime Pie, she found herself easily speaking about her volatile relationship with her mother and the private Hell of feeling like you could never measure up to her. Melana Torres, she explained, was everyone’s idea of a modern day Joan Clever, but it had not always been that way. "Don’t get me wrong," she said, as she finished up her pie. "I love my mother, but I never really felt like she loved me until recently. My parents split up for a couple of weeks and I really started to see her differently during that time. I, hell ... I even slept in her bed ... just hanging onto her. I really wanted that when I was a kid, you know? I wanted to climb in the bed with her and have her wrap her arms around me and tell me that I was okay the way I was. I wanted her to be okay with *me*, with who I wanted to be."

"Who was that?"

"I wanted her to accept that I was never going to be a carbon copy of her. I didn’t care about music or fashion or every hair on my head being in place. I didn’t want a coming out party or a sweet sixteen or anything that would put everyone else’s eyes on me. I wanted her eyes on me. I wanted her to see that I didn’t have to be like her to be *worthy* of her." Callie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "And now ... God ... now I just want to have one ounce of her strength and just half of her backbone and a drop of the resilience that she has. Nothing beats her. Ever. She’s strong and so sure of herself that she never questions it and if I could be a carbon copy of her *now* ... I would do it so fast that it would erase everything that I wasn’t."

"How are you different now?"

"She’s healthy. She’s got curves that she embraces and loves and for a while I had that. I owned it. I didn’t have to be a size six to know that I was just as good as the stick thin Barbie doll on the runway. My dad ... he would die if she didn’t have those curves. And every guy that I know, even my husband, thinks she’s the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen and it’s in the way she carries herself. I want that kind of fire. And I don’t have it anymore."

"But you did?"

"Oh, I so did." Callie chuckled. "Oh my god. It was amazing ... I had this gorgeous girl ask me what my secret was. I was this badass Ortho chick who was able to stay on top of my game, socialize, and I had the hunky doctor of the moment, his name was Dr. Savoy, chasing me into linen closets to feel me up. I was out on my own, making my own money, and I was drinking still, but I was happier than I had ever been."

"Why?"

"I wasn’t under my dad’s thumb. I mean, he pretty much forced me to go to college and be a doctor, but then when I made it he backed away and left me alone. I was on my own two feet and I was succeeding." She sighed, then yawned and got to her feet. "I want to be *that* person again."

Alicia folded her hands in her lap and watched her patient rifle through her bag for a pair of pajamas. The change in Callie when she was outside the walls of Freedom Ridge was amazing. She was funny and playful and had not stopped talking since they had flown out. She didn’t know if it was the flying or the change of scenery, but either way, she was confident that they had turned a very, very steep corner.

The finish line was in sight.

*~*~*~*~*~

Alex sat on the sofa at Mark and Addison’s with his head in his hands. It was nearing midnight, but he didn’t want to go home. At dinner, Melana had burst into tears and it had taken all of Alex’s resolve not to join her. He didn’t understand it then, but he understood it now. Raphael had broken their laptop so Alex didn’t see the letters until he was able to see it on Addison’s computer. More than anything ... he wished he could un-see it ... and put his arms around Callie. He could hear saying every word, see tears streaming down her face, imagine her curling up into a ball somewhere, alone, in the aftermath of it ... and he hated it. He had sworn before God to love, honor, and cherish her and that was fucking impossible when he didn’t even know where she was.

"Alex," Addy said gently, sitting beside him. She held out a cup of peppermint tea that Melana had insisted she try for the nausea. Her best friend’s husband was definitely looking green around the gills. "Drink this. It’ll help."

He took the cup and stared down at it, but didn’t lift it to his lips. "I can’t do this anymore."

"Do what?" Mark asked, watching him with growing apprehension. "Alex?"

"I want her home. Now." Alex got to his feet, pacing to the fireplace. He set the tea on the mantle and leaned against it, gazing down at the fire until the front of his pants were hot from it. It burned, but not as much as his heart. "I miss her and I’m trying so hard to be patient and be proud that she’s getting help, but at the end of the day ... *I* want to help her."

"You can help her when she gets home," Addison suggested. "She’s really gonna need you then. A lot. More than you probably know because she’s gonna be terrified that nothing will be the same."

"Nothing is the same," Alex said, turning his back to the fire. He met her eyes. "I’m not the same. She’s not the same. What if the next letter she writes is addressed to me and it’s telling me that she made a mistake with me. She’s facing her feelings now and she’s digging really fucking deep. She’s writing things that she *never* told me so ... what if I’m next?"

Mark peeled the label on his beer bottle, then set it down and picked up the laptop. He scrolled back in Callie’s blog until he found the letter she had written to Alex the previous week. "She did write you a letter. Do you need to read it again? Because we read it, even though it was addressed to you. Maybe my ego is just really huge-"

"It is," Addison assured him with a crooked smile.

"Be that as it may," Mark continued, undaunted, "if the woman I love had written me a letter like that, where she laid everything on the line, the last thing I’d do is doubt her."

"That was nice, honey." Moving to sit beside him, Addy put her arm around him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "And I agree. She’s never going to say anything like that to you, Alex, because it’s simply not true. I don’t care how deep she digs ... her love for you isn’t going anywhere. Those roots are just too deep."

"And she’d kick your ass for not believing that." Mark leaned back, pulling Addison against his chest. "It’s just a few more days. She’ll be home before you know it."

Alex reached behind him and picked up the tea, sipping it. He made a face and spit the mouthful back into the cup. "Ugh, that is nasty!"

"It’s an acquired taste." Addison yawned. "It does help settle your stomach though."

"Because it burned your taste buds off and you can’t eat!" He set it back on the mantle and froze. He hadn’t noticed the photo there. It had been taken the night that he and Callie had returned from their honeymoon. Addison had insisted that they get dressed up and meet them at the Archfield for dinner and Callie had been so excited to see her friend that she ignored the jet lag she felt. Her black dress had a peephole between her breasts that made his mouth water the entire night and the same sweet smile she wore in the photograph had stayed on her face for days. Picking up the photo, he traced her cheek, remembering how she had kissed him just before the photo was taken, telling him that he looked tired. He had been exhausted, but that didn’t stop him from sliding his hand under her dress at the dinner table and making her squirm. He grinned now, remember the way she had choked on her salmon and claimed that it had a bone in it. The manager of the restaurant had been so devastated by the lie that he didn’t charge them for their dinner and forced them all to accept dessert as well. She had paid him back in the car, leaning over the console to do things to him with her mouth that left him unable to drive when all was said and done.


His cellphone suddenly rang and he wrestled it from his pocket, expecting to see Melana’s number. What he found, however, was a jumbled mess of numbers he had never seen before. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jock Strap."

"Callie?"

"I’m breaking about eighteen rules right now, but I needed to hear your voice."

He was aware that Addison and Mark had gotten to their feet and left the room. Swallowing hard, he moved to the sofa again and sat down. "How are you?"

"I miss you."

"Oh god, baby. You have no idea how much I miss you, too."

"I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t. If you had been there ... I wouldn’t have gone. And - and I needed this."

"They’re helping you?"

"Absolutely. I really feel like I know myself again. I’m doing better. How are you?"

"I won’t be doing better until you’re back here where you belong. I’m counting the seconds, you know?" He heard her breathing change on the other end of the line and felt a lump form in his throat. "Don’t you dare cry, Gothika. You know it kills me."

"Thank you for staying."

He could hear her tears and picture her face so vividly in his mind that he could swear she was in the room. "One of these days you’re gonna believe me when I tell you that I’m not going anywhere. When we can be together again ... you’ll see it. I’ll never give you a reason to think I’ll go again."

"And I’ll never give you a reason to go, Alex. I can’t wait to come home and start over. The first six months of our marriage has not been very kind to us, but -"

"We have a lifetime to make up for that. And we will. I swear to God, Callie, we will."

"I love you."

"I love you."

She sighed. "I have thirty minutes on this card. Wanna have phone sex?"

He laughed and felt a surge of relief the likes of which he had never experienced in his life. "What are you wearing?"

"Hmmm ... truth or a lie?"

"Lie to me."

"I’m wearing a naughty nurse outfit and my stethoscope is actually a cat-o-nine tails. Have you been bad?"

"Not even close."

"Damn." She giggled. "The *truth* is that I’m wearing your college t-shirt and it’s gross and dirty and smells more like me than you now, but I can’t bring myself to wash it. And I have on those yoga pants that you threatened to burn when I wore them grocery shopping and the bag boy propositioned me in front of you."

"How’s your hair?"

"Curly as hell!" she replied. "Snow? Hate it. I look like a Chia Pet."

"I bet you look beautiful. You always do."

"What are *you* wearing?"

"Truth or a lie?" he asked.

"Lie to me."

"I’m wearing nothing but a towel."

"Niiiice."

"You know where I’m at?"

"If you’re in nothing but a towel you better have your fine ass at home or I’ll be pissed as hell."

He laughed again. "I’m at Addison’s and she’s had morning sickness every single second of the day for the past couple of weeks. As much as I hate myself for this because you only have thirty minutes ... if you wanted to say hello to her ... I think she’d feel a lot better."

"Put her on."

Alex hurried down the hallway and knocked on the master bedroom door. Addison wrenched it open after the first knock and looked expectantly at the phone. He smiled and held it out to her. She snatched it and said, "Callie?"

"Hey you!"

"Oh my god!" Addison, whose hormones ranged from bad to worse, burst into tears. "Are you okay?"

"Shit, Addy. I guess I’m better than you. Alex said the morning sickness has been bad."

"Mel gave me peppermint tea. It’s getting better." She sniffled. "Are they taking care of you? Is the food okay? One of us should eat and I can’t so that leaves you."

"You will be pleased to note that I have gained ten pounds."

"That’s great! I’m proud of you!"

"Yeah, well, it’s not like you can do much in the snow except eat and be pissed that it’s snowing again."

"Keep eating. You are scary thin."

"Is Alex really okay?"

Addison glanced at him. "Yes. Absolutely."

"And my parents?"

"They’re hanging in there. Looking forward to seeing you. We all are." Addison’s eyes filled with tears again and she rubbed them away. "I love you, Cal. I really, really love you."

"I really, really love you, too."

"Hurry home. Your godchildren won’t listen to me when I tell them to stop with the sickness. Maybe they’ll listen to you."

"Buy lemons."

"Lemons?"

"Yep. When the nausea hits you ... sniff a lemon peel or drink some fresh squeezed lemonade. Also, there’s an herb shoppe on Belmont Road. Ask for Gianna and tell her that you need the ginger nectar that she brews for pregnant women. It’s not for sell on the shelves so you’ll have to tell her I sent you."

"How do you know this?"

"She’s into the paranormal. I swear, I think my dad sent her to Seattle and set her up in a shop just to spy on me. She’s as old as the hills and she’ll coddle you to death so be ready for that."

A mechanical voice interrupted the call, stating that there was seven minutes left on the card. Addison quickly thanked her, said goodbye, and handed the phone back to Alex, who took it and left the room. Addison turned and smiled at Mark. "She’s doing really good."

"Knew she would," he replied sleepily.

Alex let himself out of the cabin and sat down in his car as he listened to Callie talk about the panther being missing. When the operator announced that they had two minutes, he said, "Baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful around those wild animals. I had this weird feeling in my gut the day you almost killed yourself and I’ve got it again. I’ve had it all day."

"I’m fine."

"Just ... be careful."

"I will."

"Thank you for calling me."

"Thank you for loving me."

"You make that easy. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?"

"Okay." Callie’s voice broke again. "I swear to God, Alex, this is the only time I’ll need rehab. I’m not falling again."

"I believe you."
"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The line went dead and Alex closed his cell.

When he started the engine, he was grinning.

He couldn’t wait to tell Melana that Callie had called.

~*~*~*~*

Izzie was freezing. She was dressed in a sleeveless white dress that was fashioned like a toga. One shoulder was bare and the cinched waist was snug, but not unbearable. On her feet she wore gladiator sandals that she was sure Eros had chosen to keep her from kicking him very hard when and if the time came. She shivered and took a deep breath as Eros pushed the small boat away from the grotto and pointed it toward Talking Rock. Blake had taken them into the headquarters of FMC to show them on the cameras that there were people arriving. He also pointed out the CIA agents who had hidden themselves very well amongst the landscaping. If you didn’t know they were there, you wouldn’t see them at all.

Cam was already there, hidden just to one side of the altar, and Izzie drew strength from that. He had the ability to put her at ease. She rubbed her hands together as the boat picked up speed. Eros laid his jacket over her shoulders and she didn’t mind at all. She pulled it tighter around her and tried to breathe easy, but her heart being lodged in her throat made it hard. As they approached the island, she could make out several small boats that had been tied to the dock and when she saw the men that had gathered there, she suddenly felt like a pig going to slaughter. Eros seemed to sense that she was contemplating jumping out of the boat because he put a steadying hand on her shoulder and said, "It’s okay."

"If you let me die ... I swear to God -"

"I’d die first."

"You do that." She was trembling enough that there was no bite in her words. When Eros tied the boat off and wrenched her from her seat, his fingers biting into her arm, she knew that it was all part of the plan and when she fought him, she brought blood on his cheek with her nail.

She didn’t expect Leon to rush forward and hit her on the head.

But as she swayed on the spot, she fleetingly thought that she’d rather sleep through it anyway.

That’s exactly what she did.

*~*~*~*~

Cam swore when he saw that Izzie was unconscious. He couldn’t decide if that would make things easier or harder. Biting his lip, he watched as Eros laid her on the stone altar. The gun in his hand was equipped with a silencer and he kept it aimed at Leon, waiting for the man to overstep the bounds of a ‘little blood’ and try to ram the dagger in his hand through Izzie’s heart. The players wasted no time moving into place. Like so many people had done before them, they joined hands and began to call on Kalligenia. The moon seemed to shine brighter on the pentagram and when Eros took the dagger from Leon and sliced into Izzie’s hand, Cam held his breath.

Nothing happened.

Cam breathed.

Leon snatched the dagger then, brought it over his head, and took aim at Izzie’s gut. Cam closed his eyes briefly, saying a silent prayer, then pulled the trigger.

He realized too late that Eros had moved to intercept the dagger and the bullet intended for Leon had found its way into his back. Crying out, Cam left the safety of his hiding place and ran forward, ignoring the startled cries of the CIA agents who were still waiting for the command to act from Blake. It obviously came as Cambyses was rushing forward, spraying bullets at anyone who got in the way. Skidding to a stop next to Eros, he saw that the damage was superficial and Eros was locked in a battle against his father for the dagger.

"Don’t!" Eros hissed when Cam moved to intervene. "He’s mine."

Izzie sat up suddenly, gasping. "What-"

Gunfire was ringing, a steady rat-a-tat that made Cam pull Izzie from the altar and huddle down with her in his arms, ducking low. He covered her with his body and put pressure on her palm, holding the jagged cut closed. The struggle for the dagger raged beside them and Cam could have easily taken a shot at Leon and ended it, but he knew about pride and he knew what that would cost Eros. Leon had abandoned him as a child, wanted nothing to do with him, and left his mother broken into a million pieces. Beneath him, Izzie struggled. "Stop it!"

"He's bleeding!" Izzie screeched. "Eros - Eros! Cam, get off me!"

Eros sent the dagger into his father's chest and sat back on his heels. He wanted to enjoy the moment, but he heard Izzie calling his name and turned. "You *do* care."

"You're hurt! CAM, GET OFF ME! I SWEAR TO GOD!"

Reaching down, Cam tried to rip the hem of Izzie’s dress to make a dressing for her wound when a bullet hit the stone, causing a sharp piece of rock to fly out and graze his own hand. It cut deep and he rocked back on his heel, gripping the altar to keep his balance.

And just like that ... the island gave up her flame.

Cam didn’t see Leon catch fire. He didn’t see Izzie’s dress burning away from her legs in melting fabric. He didn’t see Eros’s hair spark like a match or hear the screams around them. What he saw, as plain as day, was the Rose of Jericho, tucked safely into the stone that was shaped like praying hands. His own flesh was blistering, his hair was smoking, but he saw the Rose of Jericho and he felt nothing but elation at having located it for his family, for his father, but most of all for Callie.

Blinded, he smiled.

And he burned.

*~*~*~*~

Blake landed on Talking Rock within minutes. He had rushed to the helicopter the moment Cam reacted. He ran into the melee, stopped to scoop a bucket of water from the spring, and began shouting out orders. He threw the water into the fire, which died as rapidly as it had built. He ran in, screaming nonsense sounds that were anguished, destroyed. Cam was smoldering, his jacket charred from his broad shoulders. "Help me!" he screamed, trying to grab Cam. His boyfriend was much bigger, however, and even though his adrenalin was pumping madly ... it wasn’t enough. "HELP!"

"Sir, it’s too late," one of the agents said, removing his hat. "We’ve secured the area, however."

Blake pulled his gun from his holster and pointed it at his teammates. It would be enough to get him fired, but it would be worth it. "Pick them up and put them in the spring. Now!"

"The spring?"

"MOVE YOUR ASS!" Blake screamed, firing a warning shot into the sand next to the man’s foot. "INTO THE WATER!"

Within moments, they were lowering Cambyses, Izzie, and Eros into the spring and Blake kneeled beside it as the water swallowed them. It wasn’t deep enough for more than wading, but all three of them disappeared. "Please, God," Blake prayed softly, clasping his hands beneath his chin. "I don’t talk to you nearly enough, but I’m asking you to please make this spring more than just an old wives' tale. Please, God. Please."

One minute became two and then a pale, unblemished hand grasped the edge of the spring and Izzie burst upward, wide eyed and gasping. Beside her, Eros emerged, coughing and sputtering, but seemingly whole. Blake began to cry when Cam didn’t emerge. Reaching into the water, he plunged his arm left and right, searching for him. "Cambyses!" he cried, "CAM!"

He felt a familiar hand in his a moment later and cried out when Cam broke the surface, clinging to his hand. Blake pulled him into his arms, hugging him close. "You bastard. You scared the shit out of me."

Something thumped behind them and Cam said, "Dude, Agent Craig just fainted."

"Get down!" someone shouted.

Gunfire rang out again. Cam pulled Blake into the spring and urged Eros and Izzie to follow them to the back, where they were hidden beneath a canopy of ivy. Cam waited until there was silence before he cleared his throat and said, "Blake, do you realize what you just did?"

"Three people have to die now, right?" Blake asked, tightening his grip on him. "I’m not sorry."

"I don’t want to know," Izzie announced. "Never tell me."

Cam listened to the chatter from the agents as they secured the area. He listened to the approaching choppers and when they finally heard the all clear, he followed the others helping them out before he began to step from the warm water. Something stopped him, however. He felt what could only be described as an umbilical tug and laid a hand over his heart. "Callie."

"What?" Blake asked, extending a hand for him.

Cam shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed. In his mind’s eyes, as plainly as he had seen the location of the Rose ... he saw her screaming. He saw her sitting in a helicopter, the throttle in her hand, while the earth raced up to greet her. He heard her crying out for mercy, praying to God, and then he saw the aircraft hit the snow and his sister ... his sister wasn’t moving.


Jumping from the water, Cam ran forward, grabbing the emergency phone from the nearest chopper. He made a call to Freedom Ridge and spoke to Jonesy, whose voice was full of emotion. It didn’t take much coaxing. Jonesy simply said, "Yes, sir. Callie called in a mayday and I lost them on our radar, but we know where they are. The authorities are on the way now."

*~*~*~*~

Shivering, Callie opened her eyes and groaned. Her head hurt. That was her first thought. Her second thought was that the windshield of the helicopter was awfully close to her face. It took her a moment to realize that she was actually dangling from her seat and the reason it was so close was because she was upside down and nearly touching it. Moving slowly, she unfastened her seatbelt and did a faceplant, sliding downward on her belly. She rolled onto her back and gasped when she saw Alicia. The woman’s arm had been shattered, the bone protruding, and the blood that had pooled from the steady dripping was enough to make her forget her own problems. Getting to her knees, she tenderly felt for a pulse and was relieved to feel it. Gripping the woman’s hand, she laced their fingers and slowly rotated it, trying to get the bone back into place enough to stabilize it.

"AHHHHHH!" Alicia screamed, reaching out with her uninjured arm. "Stop! STOP!"

"I’m sorry. Just ... bear with me one second." Callie unzipped her jacket and pulled the two shirts she wore off. She laid them on the seat and forgot about the cold. Pulling again, she ignored her friend’s screams and finally moved the bone enough to wrap it. She wound the first shirt, then the second, before she tied it off, ripping the fabric with her teeth. She smelled the gas as she was fumbling with her coat. "You have *got* to be kidding me."

"What is it?" Alicia asked, her voice weak. When she caught the scent herself, her eyes widened. "Help me with the seatbelt."

Callie did as she requested, supporting her weight as she gently flipped upright. Callie tried her door, but it was held too firmly with the packed snow. As a last resort, she kicked the window, then again, and again. Finally, she screamed when she did it and either God heard her desperation or she hit a note that could break glass because it relented and she wiggled through, pulling Alicia along behind her. The temperature felt like it had dropped significantly and Callie groaned when she saw that had crashed under a thicket of trees that would hide the wreckage from rescue planes. With Alicia leaning against one of those blasted trees, Callie kneeled down again and felt around until she located the survival kit. A flare gun would be inside and when she retrieved it and slid from the wreckage again, she said, "We need to get into the open."

"What the hell happened?" Alicia asked as she limped along beside her. "It felt like the blades just ... lifted off of us."

"The Jesus nut could have broken."

Alicia stopped walking. "How bad is that lick to your head?"

"What?"

"You’re talking about Jesus like he’s a nut who let this happen."

Callie shook her head. "No! The Jesus nut holds the main rotor to the mast. It earned that name because when breaks ... all you can do is pray to Jesus because your blades are gone and so are you."

"You’re bleeding." Alicia pointed at her forehead. "You need stitches."

"I need new pants."

They trudged into an open field and Callie promptly busted her ass. Alicia fared better and was able to slide to a graceful stop. "I know where we are," she announced. "This is Pritchett’s Lake."

Callie didn’t bother to stand. She crawled on her hands and knees, hoping that she would find a place that wasn’t slick as hell to attempt to walk again. She was about to comment that she never, ever wanted to see figure skating on television again when something caught her eye under the ice. She brushed away the fresh snow and gasped. "Oh god. Oh ... no."

Alicia looked over at her and her eyes widened. "Is that -"

Beneath the frozen, packed lake was a mass of black. The layer of ice wasn’t so thick that Callie couldn’t see that it was fur and while she couldn’t see the panther’s face ... she knew. She had stroked that fur for hours and had rested her head against the curve of his neck that she could just make out. Her eyes filled with tears and she punched the ice. "We have to get him out!"

Alicia joined her, kneeling down. "We can’t. It’s too late and if we break this ice we’re going to join him."

Bursting into tears, Callie hit the ice again, her fists burning. "God dammit! Help me!"

"Stop! Callie, stop it!" Alicia put her good hand on her back. "He had a good life. He -"

"Oh my god!" Callie sobbed. "Who says that!? This is a wild animal that was tamed and then caged and then brought here after the circus didn’t want him anymore. He didn’t have a good life! He had a horrible life! He sat in the cabin looking out and wanting to be wild! He wanted to be a big cat and no one would let him! That’s not a good life! That’s a miserable, rotten life!"

Alicia watched her try to break the ice until it was red with her blood. "He was happy here. And he was happy with you."

"He wasn’t happy! He did what he had to do! Just like me! I spent my entire life in a cage. He gave up the wild and I gave up being a child. I only ever wanted to be a kid." Callie was crying so hard now that it was hard to understand her. "Help me get him out. We can’t just leave him here. We can’t!"
"He’s at peace. And in the spring, when the ice thaws, we can get him and bury him. You can come back. You can be there for that if you want."

"He’s not at peace. He’s not!"

"Of course he is." Alicia brushed her hair back. "I bet you he chased something onto the ice and it broke and he fell in. I bet he died while he was hunting and the water is so cold that it happened very fast. He didn’t suffer. He died doing what big cats are supposed to do."

Callie leaned her head down against the ice, gently stroking it. For the briefest moment, she thought she could make out his yellowed eye, then she squeezed her own shut. "I don’t want to die."

"We’re not that far from Freedom Ridge. We can start walking now and -"

"No, I don’t want to die." Callie sat up again, looking at her. "We almost died just now. And I almost killed myself because I forgot that life can be amazing. And I don’t eat a lot of the time and I didn’t really care that my liver was messed up or that I was damaging it again when I drank before I came here. I didn’t *care*. Now ... I don’t want to die. I don’t want to freeze to death like he did because that’s what happens when you try to go back and be what you were. You freeze. And then you die."

Alicia nodded at her. "That’s right. You have to let the past go and not look back at what’s behind you. You have to look at what lies ahead. And you have to surround yourself with the people who keep you tame because if you go back to living in the ‘wild’, which for you is alcohol and starvation, then you forget that there are people who love you and take care of you. Achilles forgot that. For just a second ... he *was* a big cat ... and he didn’t know how to be."

"I know how to be sober," Callie said, her eyes focused on the panther again. "Because it’s worth living for."

The roar of snow mobiles drowned out her sobs. Alicia got to her feet and opened the survival kit, shooting the flare into the sky. Callie stayed on her knees, her hand over the panther until two strong arms pulled her upright. Jonesy lifted her into his arms and gently deposited her on one of the snow mobiles. "You okay, Miss Callie?"

She nodded and let him fuss over the cut on her head. He put a bandage over it and his own toboggan on top of that, then he sat down in front of her and sped away.

Callie buried her face against his broad back to keep from looking behind her at the watery grave of the truest soul she had ever known.

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 29
*~*~*~*~*~*

Freedom Ridge was bustling with activity when Callie and Alicia were ushered into the warmth of the main hall. Before she could protest, she was lifted onto a stretcher and a group of firemen went to work cleaning the cut on her head. She mechanically told them what had happened, the way the helicopter had gone from flying perfectly to plummeting quickly, and answered the myriad of questions they posed. Wanting nothing more than to curl up in the bed and cry until she couldn’t possibly cry again, she feebly nodded when they said she needed to accompany them to the hospital in Anchorage, where they would be transporting Alicia for surgery. There was a head scan in her future, they assured her, and because it was aching enough to make her vision blurry, she didn’t really mind. She forgot the pain entirely when Jonesy ran into the room with a cordless phone, telling her that her brother insisted that he speak to her. Her hands were shaking so badly that she nearly dropped the phone, but she held onto it and greeted him while she waited for medical transport to arrive.

She didn’t need to ask was how he had known something was wrong. There were some things that twins shared, a bond that couldn’t be explained, and that bond acted as a hand that could travel across countless miles to squeeze your heart and let you know that you were needed. She told him she loved him and that she needed to go when the firemen strapped her to the stretcher. She didn’t realize until she was once against flying over Freedom Ridge that she was still clutching the phone in her hand ... or that it felt very much like she was holding his.

Beside her, Alicia groaned in pain and Callie looked at her. When the therapist met her eyes, Callie said, "I am *never* flying again."

"How do you plan to get home?" Alicia asked.

"Boat."

"Didn’t you recently sink your boat?"

"It was a *yacht* and that was not my fault."

"Maybe when you get home," Alicia said, "you should buy a bicycle. With training wheels."

"Not a bad idea."

"Hey, Callie?"

"Hmm?"

"I think you’re ready to go home, by the way."

Callie’s mouth dropped open a little. "But I haven’t completed the program."

"Yeah, you did," Alicia replied, reaching her good hand out toward her. "You just don’t know it yet."

Callie took it, squeezing lightly. "Really?"

"Really. Go home."

"Are you serious?"

"What do you think?"

Callie didn’t speak for a few minutes. She simply stared at the other woman, then she nodded. "I won’t come back. Even in the spring ... when the ice melts and you can get to Achilles. I won’t need you again."

"Well, I’m actually not very sad about that, Cal. That means I did my job." Holding up her wounded arm, Alicia added, "And you did yours. You did. They said I may have lost my hand if you hadn’t done what you did."

"Think they’d let me operate on you?"

"I think I’ll make them." Alicia grinned. "On the condition that you are very liberal with the pain meds."

"I can do that."

And that is exactly what Callie did. After her scan was clean, she assisted the orthopedic attending on duty at Alaska Regional Hospital. Scrubbing in burned her abraded hands, and the latex gloves were snug due to the swelling, but the second she stepped into the OR and felt hands tying her surgical scrubs ... it was like coming home. It was a familiar, well trained act that caused every fiber of her being to sway and snap at attention. The familiar clicking of tools, the hiss of the ventilator, the feel of pins and screws and *healing* was a natural high. As she twisted the screwdriver and locked a pin into place, the tattoo on the inside of her wrist ached to life again and she realized that the words inked there had never held more truth for her.

In bold, Greek lettering, it read, ‘γνῶθι σεαυτόν’.

‘Know Thyself’.

As she scrubbed out nearly an hour later and let water trickle over the tattoo, she realized that she did know herself. She was a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend. She was complicated, loving, generous, kind. She was opinionated, strong, determined, and smart. She was beautiful, cherished, brave, and decent. She was Calliope Iphigenia Karev and what she wasn’t ... was finished. She had a horizon stretched out in front of her that she wanted to fill with the laughter of children, her children, because by having a child ... she could *be* a child and look at the world through their eyes, making sure they didn’t have to see the things she did. Her arms ached to hold a baby that she created with Alex. She dreamed of it often, a smiling baby boy who had Alex’s smug smile and her own hearty laughter. She could picture them standing beside his crib, watching him sleep, arguing over whose turn it was to change his diaper or give him a bath, and more than anything ... she could see herself smiling for the rest of her life.

After saying a silent prayer of gratitude that Chief Webber preferred light blue scrubs to the lime green ones she currently wore, she meandered up the corridor. She found herself remembering college, now. A certain professor in particular had been instrumental in guiding Callie’s education. Dr. Mayhew, had been a doctor at the top of her game, but she had been blinded by a retinal disease that took her out of the operating room and into the classroom. Callie’s fondness for the woman had made her class one of the best she’d ever taken and she had been stunned when that professor invited her to watch a surgery that would be performed on her eyes. Inside the hospital, Mayhew had snapped her walking stick shut and slipped it into her purse. She seemed to anticipate where people were and easily sidestepped them. She moved around chairs, stretchers, and rolling carts with the ease of someone with twenty twenty vision and when Callie commented, Mayhew simply smiled and said that she would understand it one day.

Closing her eyes now, Callie walked further down the hallway, listening to the hospital as if it could let her in on a secret that she didn’t know. She heard the dinging of elevators, the ticking of clocks, the squeak of Crocs on the polished floor and the hustle of paperwork and just like that, she knew where she wanted to go. Shifting left, eyes still closed, she followed the scent of vanilla candles and stepped onto the carpeted floor of the chapel. She got it now, she thought. Hospitals were blueprinted onto the soul of a doctor and it didn’t matter if you were familiar with the layout or not ... you could find your way with your eyes closed as long as you knew what you needed. And now, Callie figured, she needed God. She lit a candle and watched it burn with the others before she took a seat on the front pew. ‘O Holy Night’ was being filtered softly throught he speakers and she could smell fresh roses in the corner. Those roses held her attention. Yellow with red tips ... Alex’s bastard flower.

"Are you okay, dear?"

Callie turned and gazed up at an ancient looking nun who was giving her a soft, serene smile. "I think so."

The old woman laid a gnarled hand on her shoulder. "I’m a bit weary. Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Not at all," Callie said, sliding further down the pew to make room for her. She watched the nun bend at the waist and cross herself before she sat down beside her. Blessed silence, apart from the tinkling of Christmas music, wrapped around Callie like a comfortable blanket. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the woman worried her Rosary. "Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"Do you ever wish you had done something different with you life?"

"I was going to be a ballerina," the nun replied. "Is that what you mean?"

"I was going to be a pilot," Callie replied. "Now I’m a doctor."

"God has a way of making sure that we answer his call." The nun lifted her head, gazing up at the crucifix that hung on the wall. "He needed a healer more than a bird. And he needed a servant more than a dancer. To question his will is to question your destiny and he’s had a plan for us since before we drew our first breath."

"Do you ever miss dancing?"

The nun looked at her, her rheumy eyes the color of the sky. "What do you think I’m doing?"

Callie looked back at the beads in her hands, at the way she worked them effortlessly, beautifully. It was like watching a dance, Callie realized, twirling, twisting, spinning. When the old woman held them out to her, Callie accepted them. "These are beautiful."

"Keep them," the nun replied.

"Oh, no, I couldn’t." She held them out, but the woman shook her head, closing Callie’s hands around them. "But -"

"Keep them. Use them. Listen to them." She touched Callie’s cheek. "And remember that when you lose a patient ... you didn’t *fail* ... you’re giving *them* the wings that God didn’t want you to have. Now, go and light a candle for me because I’m afraid that my arthritis won’t let me do it anymore."

"Yes, ma’am." Callie fisted the rosary in her hand and did as the woman requested. When she turned to ask her what she wanted her to pray for ... the chapel was empty. Hurrying down the aisle, she rushed into the hallway and nearly got mowed down by a young man pushing a stretcher. She backed up quickly, looking left and right.

There was no one there.

"Miss Callie?"

Callie turned to see Jonesy approaching and gave him a bewildered smile. "Did you see a nun just now?"

He tilted his head to one side. "No."

"Hmm." Leaning back against the wall, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Alicia’s going to be fine, by the way. I don’t think she’ll have any permanent nerve damage, which I was afraid of."

"Miss Alicia don’t like to say goodbye to patients." Jonesy told her, his thick Southern accent drawling over the words. "She called me before her surgery and said that you was ready to leave. So, I packed up all your things and made sure I got your art and your presents for your family. It’s outside in the limo and the plane’s ready to take you on home now."

"She said I finished the program, but I didn’t do thirty days."

"Sometimes all you need is a minute and it all makes sense. We helped you get around the worst of it and while it’s still fresh, you go on home and you mend your fences because the longer you stay away the more mending you’ll have to do."

Callie bit her bottom lip. "What if I’m not ready."

"Miss Ali asked me to tell you that sneaking into the hotel bathroom to call home is a sure sign that you’re ready to be there."

"Damn."

He grinned at her. "I’ll be flying with you so that I can get you settled and make sure your family understands that you didn’t quit. As a personal favor, could you stay away from the cockpit, though?"

Throwing her head back, she laughed until her sides were sore. "If I *never* see a cockpit again ... I won’t complain."

*~*~*~*~*~

Raphael wanted to see his wife smile again. He tried to entice her with a movie on Pay Per View, but she had sat staring out into space for the first hour of it, so he finally flipped the television off and asked if she wanted to talk. Melana Torres loved to talk, she lived to talk, she always had something to say, but she simply shook her head no and padded down the hallway to their bedroom. When he followed her a moment later, she was stretched on her back and had her blue silk eye mask over her eyes. He slipped her shoes off and covered her with a quilt, letting his fingers trail along the curve of her jaw. She was not asleep, but she didn’t thank him, she didn’t move a muscle. He left her there, heading back into the living room.

In the kitchen, he scoured the cupboards for something he could manage to cook and not mangle. Settling on pasta, he readied the boiler, then set the table. He had bought her flowers that morning, but she had neglected to put them in a vase so he located one and spent so long trying to arrange them just so that the spaghetti overcooked. He put the clumped, sticky mess down the garbage disposal and ordered pizza instead. After adding several candles to the table, he decided that it looked far too formal for greasy pepperoni, but he wanted her to like it. The pizza arrived within the hour and he took it out of the box, accidentally folding it in half and causing most of the cheese to slide off. That, he realized, was why taking it out one slice at a time was the way to go. When he had smoothed the cheese back down and washed his hands, he nodded in satisfaction, then washed his hands.

When he went into the bedroom again, Melana was stroking Gucci, who was curled against her side like a baby. The satin mask was no longer on her face, but he would have preferred that to what he found. Tears were streaming down her reddened cheeks and her eyes were puffy ... indicating that the entire time he’d fumbled with their dinner was time wasted. He should have been comforting her. "Melana," he said softly, "please ... don’t keep doing this to yourself."

"I did resent her," Melana replied hoarsely. "I resented the fact that you didn’t think it was that big of a deal that she kept running. I resented that you had to take off and find her and you never shouted at her in front of me for it. I resented that she was so free spirited and you thought that was great. I resented the way you told me to leave her alone ... so I did. I left her alone. I accepted that I could never be you in her eyes instead of fighting for my place. I did let her down. I let *me* down. And now she’s off at some Godforsaken iceberg and she thinks that I don’t love her and why should she think otherwise? I’ve never done anything except judge her. Harshly."

"We’re human. And you read her letter to me. I may have had a very, very big role in her life, but I pissed it away. She put her trust in the wrong parent." Raphael moved beside her, pulling her into his arms. Gucci, who thought that *he* was comforting her, took offense to the interloper and grabbed Raphael’s chest, painfully twisting his nipple. "CONTROL THIS ANIMAL! WHEN HE GIVES ME BREAST CANCER FROM THE ABUSE -"

Melana chuckled. Gucci, thinking he had done something great to impress his mistress, reached for Raphael’s other nipple and groped at it with both hands, twittering like a lunatic as he did so. Raphael yelped, rolling onto his back and covering himself with both hands. The capuchin looked at Mel, who now had tears of mirth streaming down her face and leaped onto Raph’s stomach, where he bounced up and down like he was on a trampoline, his long arms flapping wildly. Melana was struggling to breathe as the monkey flipped, landing on Raph’s groin which illicited quite a reaction from her husband. Next he raced down his leg, where he tugged off his shoe and threw it into the floor, his long furry fingers tickling him on the bottom of his foot. The noises Raph made were half outraged, half hysterical with laughter.

"Gucci, come!"

The monkey stopped what he was doing and spun to look at the doorway. With a scream of pure delight, he leaped effortlessly through the air and landed in Callie’s outstretched arms. She kissed the top of his head, which he burrowed under her chin and smiled when he began to tremble in her arms. "Missed you too, you lousy ape."

Melana and Raphael didn’t move a muscle. They simply stared at her, not smiling, barely breathing.

Her smile faded slightly under the scrutiny and she made it a point to talk softly to the monkey while she collected her thoughts. When she looked back at them, they still hadn’t moved. Gucci gazed up at her, then reached up and pushed her bangs aside, touching the bandage on her forehead. She heard her mother gasp and quickly said, "Uh, it’s nothing."

"What happened?" Raphael asked, sitting up.

"Nothing." She absently pulled her bangs back over the gauze. "I completed the program, by the way. I didn’t leave early."

"Miss Callie?"

"In here," Callie replied, turning to smile at Jonesy, who practically had to turn sideways to enter the room because of his big, broad shoulders.

His eyes lit on the monkey and he smiled. "We ain’t never had a monkey at Freedom Ridge."

Callie held Gucci out to Jonesy, who held the monkey like he would hold a baby, one hand on his back while he rested on his hip. It was comical to see such a large man acting like the little capuchin could break. "Mom, Dad, this is Jonesy. He’s a Southern Gentleman who insisted on carrying all my luggage."

"Sir," Jonesy replied, extending a hand to Raphael, who shook it mechanically, apparently still stunned. Jonesy tipped his hat at Melana, "Ma’am. You all should be real proud of Miss Callie. She sure has done a fine job and she’s right, she did finish the program and we’re sure we won’t be seeing her again. On that note," he turned and grinned at Callie. "your luggage is in your bedroom and I need to head on back. Alicia doesn’t suffer the hospital well. She doesn’t like doctors."

Callie laughed. "She likes me."

"You’ve been the exception to the rule since I met you." He held the monkey out to her and watched as she set it on the bed. Jonesy nodded at Mel and Raph again. "Sir, Ma’am, y’all take care of her." Looking back at Callie, he added, "When I get Achilles out ... I’ll make sure he’s buried with that toboggan of yours he loved so much. And I’ll bury him next to your cabin. He ain’t never took to a patient like he did you. That’s where he’d want to be."

"Don’t make me cry. I cannot have another breakdown today." Callie shook her head, then stepped into his outstretched arms. "Take care of yourself. And make sure that mangy housecat leaves the fox alone. It’s a bully."

"Will do." He patted her back. "Get some sleep. You didn’t sleep on the plane at all."

"I was enjoying my last. plane. ride. ever. Never again." She glanced at her parents, who were still watching her with a mixture of what appeared to be horror, trepidation, and weariness, so she left them alone and led Jonesy down the hallway and to the front door, where he hugged her again. She impulsively picked up a photo of herself and Alex and handed it to him. "Make sure that goes on the wall of fame. Okay?"
When he nodded and walked away, she closed the door and leaned back against it. Her parents were standing in the living room now, side by side, perfect stiff pillars. She eyed them with uncertainty, then cleared her throat. "Where’s Chunk?"

"Alex dropped him off at the groomers." Mel reached down and laced her fingers through Raphael’s. He squeezed back. "Are you hungry?"

"No." Callie looked at their joined hands and couldn’t help but think that her letters had forced them to become Wonder Twins in their own right ... and they were joined against her. "My day has pretty much sucked so I’m --- tired. I’m gonna go lie down."

Raphael nodded. "You do that."

The intensity of her heartbeat suggested that she was four seconds away from a heart attack, so Callie moved away from the door and said, "Uh ... I’ll see you when I wake up."

"Okay," Melana replied, tightening her grip on her husband. They watched her walk down the hallway and looked at one another when her door clicked shut. "I should have hugged her. I - should go and -"

"She knew where you were. If she wanted a hug -"

"But -"

"I’m not making excuses for her anymore, honey." Raphael nodded toward the dining room. "Let’s go and have dinner."

"She was wearing *Spandex*." Melana sat down in the seat he pulled out for her. "You could see every inch of her and then some. I - I think maybe she’s gained a little weight."

"She has. She looks good." Raphael retrieved two bottles of water from the refrigerator and handed her one. "But I will be burning that outfit as soon as I find it in the laundry."

*~*~*~*~*~

If Callie expected her parents to knock on the door, she was sorely disappointed. When an hour crept past, feeling like days, she gave up trying to nap. Instead, she buried her face in Alex’s pillow and breathed him in. Cambyses had been right. Her husband had stretched her tank top over her pillow and had apparently slept on it enough to wear the fabric thin. Getting to her feet, she slipped her knee boots back over the tight red outfit she wore. She had chosen it because the sleeves were long and tight enough to cover the tattoo on her wrist and not slide upwards at all. Plus, it was the only sexy thing she had to wear, something she had purchased in Anchorage just before the flight took off, and she wanted Alex to see that she was regaining at least some of her curves. Looking in the mirror, she turned and gazed at her backside. The ten pound weight gain had apparently all gone *there* and she loved it.

She contemplated calling him, but refrained. Walking into the sunroom, she lifted the lid on the hot tub and touched the water. Frowning, she adjusted the thermostat and lowered the lid again. The first time she had made love to Alex had been in the hot tub on Goon Docks. She smiled, recalling the way their wires had crossed. He thought she didn’t want him. She thought he didn’t want her. And when the moment finally happened ... it had been perfect. He had known her body in ways that only someone familiar could know it and it had shocked her then. It still shocked her now, how familiar and wonderful and right it always felt ... even when it had been fresh and new. Their romance had been fast by anyone’s standards, but he *knew* her. He looked into her when she had been lost and broken and had seen the best of her. And he had fallen in love, pulling her with him.

Opening the back door of the sunroom, she walked down the two steps and into the back yard, breathing deep. She didn’t have a coat on, but she didn’t need it. Compared to Alaska, Seattle felt like the Bahamas. Breathing deep, she inhaled the salty air of the bay and smiled. This, she knew, was peace. Despite the icy reception from her parents ... she was home. She didn’t doubt that she could spread her arms and fly from the sheer joy of being back where she truly belonged. Walking around the house, she grinned at the stack of dog toys that Chunk had amassed in her absense. There was also a large, ornate dog house that she kneeled down to look at. It was a mini replica of her house, castle like and made of rock. She had to shake her head when she saw that the bedding inside was pristine. Apparently Chunk preferred the actual house to the mini version. She got to her feet again, deciding to check the damage to her car. As she rounded the garage, she drew up short.

Alex’s SUV was coming through the gate and when it slid to an abrubt halt on the gravel she knew that he had spotted her. Breaking into a run, she squealed with delight when he opened the door and raced toward her. He met her halfway, lifting her off the ground and spinning with her. She kissed his neck, his ear, his cheek, then leaned back and kissed his mouth, her hands on either side of his face. They stayed that way, locked together, his heart pounding against hers as his mouth did things to hers that left her breathless and gasping for air. When they eventually broke apart, his brown eyes locked on hers. He looked at every inch of her face as if he were seeing it for the first time, as if not looking would kill him. She finally grinned and reached up, rubbing his buzz cut. "Sexy."

"Couldn’t tame my cowlick."

She clung to his shoulders, looking thoughtful. "Have you lost weight?"

"A little. I’ve been going to the gym." His eyes moved back to her mouth and he kissed her again, setting her on her feet now so he could touch her. His hands spanned her waist, rubbed over her back, and when she moaned his name, he pulled back and stared at her through his tears. "You’re really here."

"I didn’t quit," she said earnestly. "I finished the program. I’m okay now."

He brushed her hair back, then saw the bandage on her head and said, "What the hell happened?"

"My clumsy streak has regrettably not been cured." She closed her eyes when he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her head. "I missed you so much. Every second of the day. You know what I realized?"

"What?"

"That we haven’t made enough memories to keep my mind occupied. I want more. I want so much more with you, Jock Strap. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know and I will never let you down again. I swear that to you, baby. Never again."

"Like you ever could." He hugged her, burying his face against her neck.

There, clinging to one another, they both cried ... they cried for what they had almost lost and what they had found again. He didn’t stop touching her, he didn’t stop breathing her in, or whispering to her. If the earth continued to spin around them ... they didn’t notice. They didn’t hear the waves in the distance or the wind rustling the trees. They paid no mind to the December chill or the droplets of icy rain that began to fall. Neither noticed that his car was still running or that the sun was slowly setting. All they knew, in that instant, was that the past truly was so far behind them that they could no longer see it. They had outrun it and this ... this was the finish line.

When they broke apart again, she smiled up at him as he smoothed the tears off her face. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He gazed down at her body, taking a step back to see every part of her. "You look amazing. You --- I like this tight ... thing ... you’re wearing."

She quirked a brow. "You should see what’s under it."

The muscle in his jaw tightened and he looked back at the house. He wanted to make her scream and doing that with her parents right down the hall would be uncomfortable as hell. Taking her hand, he walked back to his vehicle and turned the engine off, then shut the door. "Take a walk with me," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Callie would have followed him to the ends of the earth, but where they actually wound up was heading down the familiar trail toward the cove where Goon Docks used to be tied up. She drew up short when she saw that there was an unbelievably large and imposing yacht floating there. She was sleek, mostly black, and so shiny that she seemed to glow like fire as the setting sun reflected off her. Alex quickly put a hand over her eyes. "Change of plans. Let’s, uh, see if we can get arrested for doing this in the car again."

"Tell me he didn’t," Callie said, pushing him off her.

"Your dad is going to *kill* me!" Alex clapped a hand over his own face. "I didn’t know that it had been delivered yet. I was going to have my way with you on the dock."

"I’m not really in the mood to get my ass stuck." She patted the thin sheet of ice with her foot, then looked back up at the yacht, her eyes wide.

"I knew you’d hate it."

"No, no, I do *not* hate it. It’s just ... crass."

"Crass?"

"It’s like announcing to the world that you have money."

"Well ... your dad *does* have money, Gothika. A lot of it apparently because this thing cost more than I’ll see in a lifetime."

She put her hands on her hips, still staring at the hulking ship. "It’s twice the size of Goon Docks."

"Not quite. Only about thirty feet."

With a grin, she looked at him. "That probably means there are three bedrooms."

"Technically four."

"We should probably get started on breaking it in. You know ... probably."

"Your dad -"

"He’ll live." Callie pulled the ladder on the side of the yacht. "But I won’t if you don’t touch me."

Alex watched the way her hips moved as she climbed the three rungs and happily accepted the hand she held out for him. He practically leaped up the ladder and kissed her again, pressing her back against a tinted window. They were in a narrow walkway and the spandex she wore made it easy for him to slide her up the glass. He did just that and she locked her legs around him, gasping when he showed her just how much he wanted her by pressing against her center. The rain had picked up and he smoothed her hair back, shivering. "Let’s go in."

She nodded, but didn’t let go of him. Instead, she kissed him again and pulled him even closer, grinding down on him. He chuckled and pushed away from the wall, gripping her backside as he climbed the stairs to the wheelhouse and fumbled with the door knob until she took over and opened it. The trembling in his body now had nothing to do with being cold and he set her on the control panel as he wrenched her shirt up and over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath and he lowered his head, capturing her nipple in his mouth. When he moved upward and his mouth brushed against her wedding rings, which she wore on a chain around her neck, he frowned and took a step back. "Why are you -"

Holding up her left hand, she smiled at him. His eyes widened when he saw the tattoo on her ring finger and he gently traced it. Leaning forward, Callie said, "Now I *can’t* take it off. Even if you piss me off."

Alex kissed the tattoo, then her mouth while he pulled his own wedding band off. When they broke apart, he held up his left hand. "Me either."

Callie gasped, grabbing his hand. While their designs didn’t match, they were close enough. "When did you-"

"I have so much to tell you," he said, cupping her face. "But I can’t think right now. So ..."

She reached for the button on his shirt, then ripped it open, sending the buttons spraying all over the room. He had lost weight, she found, but it had been replaced by muscle. His stomach was toned and his pecs were defined. She licked her lips, rubbing her hands over his bare skin, then tracing the divet in his stomach where his six pack was beginning to form. She unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down with her heels, watching with anticipation as he toed his shoes off and kicked his pants and boxers out of the way. Pulling her from the control panel, he kneeled down, then his eyes widened when he saw that her belly button had been pierced. He moved his hand over it and she hissed. "It’s new?"

"Very. Like, yesterday new. So, it hurts. So ... be careful."

"Any other surprises?"

She held out her right hand, turning it palm up so he could see her wrist. "Just this."

His brow creased. "What does it say?"

"Can we please talk less?" Growling in frustration, she reached down to unzip her boots, but he pushed her hand away and took care of it himself.

When he finally peeled her pants down, and saw that she wore no panties, he licked his lips. Still kneeling, he kissed the soft flesh of her belly, then her hip. "You’re right. I do like what you have on underneath."

She closed her eyes, her head falling back when he urged one leg over his shoulder and buried his head between her thighs. Crying out his name, she gripped the edge of the control panel and held her breath as he moved his tongue against her sensitive clit. One of his hands rubbed her thigh while she other moved lower and slowly, torurously, he eased two fingers into her. Teasing, he nipped at her flesh and then gasped in shock when she shoved him backwards. He landed on his back in the floor and she descended over him. He thought for a moment she was going to straddle his hips, but she didn’t. She straddled his face and lay over him, her head pointing toward his feet as she took him into her mouth.

"Jesus, Callie," he grunted, his toes curling. Dizzy, he spread her legs further, lowering her over his mouth where he concentrated on her pleasure instead of his own because he was bound to humiliate himself within seconds if he didn’t. She was relentless, taking him to the back of her throat and swallowing, causing her muscles to constrict just. so. He attacked her clit with renewed urgency and when she lifted her head, letting him fall from her mouth, and cried out, he smiled against her. Sliding backwards, he eased from beneath her and climbed to his knees. She was still on hers when he drove into her. He watched her nails dig into the carpet as she slammed against her, the front of his legs slapping against the back of hers.

His hands tangled in her hair, drawing her upward. She turned her head and kissed him over her shoulder, her tongue against his, her nails digging into his thighs. He wanted more and she obviously did, too, because she stilled his hips and turned. This time she did straddle his hips and she lowered herself so slowly on his turgid cock that he realized that he was begging her by the time she was fully seated. She wrapped her legs around his waist again and he went even deeper. With a smile, she braced her palms on the ground behind her and rolled her hips in a circle, grinding, pushing. He let his hands wander up her stomach, then cupped both of her breasts, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs. He wouldn’t last much longer. Lifting a thumb to her mouth, he gritted his teeth when she sucked it into her mouth and when he pulled it away, he let it trail over her nipple again before he lowered it to her center. Within seconds, she came for the second time and collapsed backwards.

Alex followed her, still fully sheathed in her warmth and settled himself between her thighs. Every inch of his body was pressed against hers and he could feel her heart slamming against his chest. He stared into her eyes as he slowly rocked his hips and laced their fingers together over her head. He kissed her again and when she grunted with pain, he knew that the pressure on her new piercing was too much. He tried to alleviate it by shifting her onto her side, but she shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I want to see you."

"Baby, I -"

"It’s fine." She lifted her hips to show that she meant it and he seized the moment, thrusting a little harder.

With their bodies, eyes, and hands locked, he made love to her. He needed need to speak and there was nothing else she needed to hear. He was still there and with every stroke, every caress, every sigh ... he was promising that he would be there forever.

And she believed him.

He saw that reflected in her eyes.

A while later, she lay curled against his chest and finally, she felt like she could sleep. Just before she dozed off, she said, "Where’s Chunk?"

"Oh ... shit. I knew you were going to ask me that."

She sat up, looking freaked. "Okay, I cannot hear that another animal I love has died."

"What? Who died?"

"Achilles. He froze to death."

"Awww, I’m sorry, baby." He traced her bottom lip. "I promise that Chunk hasn’t frozen. I forgot and left him at the groomers."

"That is horrible! He’s in a cage now and -"

"No, the lady there took him home with her. She said that he wouldn’t get near the cage and she didn’t want to leave him rambling around by himself. So, he’s fine." Alex pushed himself up on his elbow and kissed her. "You wanna tell me what kind of rehab tattoos and pierces the patients?"

She moved her leg between his, resting a hand on his hip. "A good one. A really good one. Okay, I can’t speak very highly of the environment there, but the people and the treatment ... it works."

"Wild animals, though. Is that what happened to your head?"

Callie rubbed the bandage and nodded. "You could say that. It was a bird that never should have flown." Deciding that it was simply too humiliating to admit that she had crashed a helicopter after whining about knowing she was born to fly, she hastily changed the subject. "My parents are really pissed at me. They barely even look at me."

"They’re not pissed. They’re hurt. Those letters you wrote were pretty powerful and ... well ... it left a mark." He lifted her chin when she looked down. "But ... that’s what you needed to say so don’t apologize for it. I wrote a letter too the other day."

"You did?"

"I wrote a letter to my mother and left it in her locker at work. She hasn’t commented, but I feel better knowing that she understands what she did to me." Alex took a deep breath. "I’m four hours away from completing an anger management course. When those four hours are done ... I’m signing up for another round because I need it. And I think it’ll make me a better man."

"Alex-"

"See ... part of me has always felt like you could disappear just like my mother did. That scared me. When I came home and you had left for rehab ... I was devastated. I felt the same way I felt when my mother left. I was frantic. I felt lost. I felt betrayed. But I can’t fear that you will do the things Irene did because you’re not her. And I can’t take my anger at her or my father out on you and I’ve done that before." He leaned down to kiss her again. "I don’t like who I became when I was was mad at you. All the names I called you ... all the horrible things I said ... I’m sorry. It won’t happen again."

"This is the part where I tell you how proud I am to be your wife." She rubbed her nose against his. "And assure you that I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not drinking again or risking my life again or *anything* remotely dramatic. We’re going to be so boring from now on that we’ll think watching an R-rated film is intense."

He laughed out loud and moved his hand to her breast. "Wanna star in an NC17?"

"Hell no." She wrinkled her nose. "I’m X-rated or nothing."

She proved that she was, indeed, X-rated three more times before Alex’s pager went off. She pouted prettily when he told her that he was on call at the hospital and had come home to check on Melana and Raphael. She dressed slowly, keeping her eyes on him as his muscles rippled under his clothing. He caught her looking and tackled her, pressing her against the leather setee where he tickled her until she threatened to hurt him. Together, they left the yacht and walked back to his car hand in hand. "I’ll see you in a bit," he said, grimacing when his pager sounded again. "Bailey’s gonna have my ass for this. I told her I was taking an hour."

Callie checked his watch and gasped. It was approaching midnight. "Holy hell! You took like six hours!"

"I sure did."

She hugged him and said, "Get something to eat. Don’t work all night withouth -"

"I did eat. A couple of times."

Smacking him on the arm, she watched as he climbed into his SUV and fastened his seatbelt, then she blew him a kiss and waved. She waited until his tail lights faded before she walked back around the house and entered her bedroom through the sunroom. After rifling through her drawers and locating the only pair of modest pajamas she owned (which Izzie had bought for her after Randall McFry attacked her), Callie showered and changed, drying her hair so that it curled around her face. Back in her bedroom, she flipped through the channels on the television for ten minutes before she crept to the door and opened it. She could see a faint light on in her parent’s room and she squared her shoulders. They were obviously still awake.

Resolutely stepping into the hallway, she lifted her hand to knock, but she couldn’t. She went to the kitchen instead and found a sandwich on a plate under saran wrap. She smiled as she sat down and ate it. Her mother always could make the best sandwiches. After rinsing the plate, she finished up her bottle of water and headed back to her room. The light was still on and she could hear faint voices from inside. Now, she stiffened her upper lip and decided that she had the perfect peace offerings in her luggage. It took her twenty minutes of digging through everything to locate what she wanted and she tucked a manilla envelope under her arm. This time ... she did knock on their door. Raphael cleared his throat and said for her to come in.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her parents were leaning against the headboard, a bowl of popcorn between them on the king sized bed. The only light in the room was from the television and when they didn’t greet her, she moved to the foot of the bed, blocking their view. "So ..." she said, her voice low. "Alex got called in to work."

Melana reached into the bowl and put a few pieces of popcorn in her mouth. "He did?"

Callie nodded. Raphael picked up the remote control and pressed pause, but it didn’t work because she was blocking the sensor. He leaned wide and was able to pause it, but she didn’t miss the look of exasperation on his face. "Do you need something?" he asked, his voice cold and reserved.

Clutching the envelope a little tighter in the hopes it would make her hands stop shaking, she said, "I’m not sorry that you read those letters. I’m just ... I’m not. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true for me and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but I had to say it before I could get around it and now I am. So ... I’m over it."

"I’m not," Raph replied. "You devastated your mother. She nearly had a seizure."

Callie met Melana’s eyes. "I am sorry for that."

Mel simply chewed another mouthful of popcorn, eyeing her.

"You should go to bed," Raphael suggested. "Or if you’re going to stand there and skulk ... you could thank me for the yacht that you obviously saw, but failed to mention."

"You can’t skulk when you’re in the open, Daddy, and if you meant sulk ... I’m not doing that either. I know what you’re doing. You guys are trying to use reverse psychology on me and make me feel really crappy for what I said. And it won’t work. I’m ... immune to that." She put a hand on her hip. "Thank you for the yacht. It’s beautiful. It’s very ... large. And ... fancy. And ... large."

"Ungrateful." Raphael shook his head and looked at Melana. "Can you believe her?"

Mel continued to eat.

"We’re watching a movie, Calliope." Raph pointed at the telvision. "Go to bed."

"Don’t tell me what to do like I’m five." Callie stalked to her father’s side of the bed and snatched the bowl. "You don’t even like popcorn!" she said to her mother. She set the bowl on the table and flipped the lamp on. "It’s too dark in here! And I am not ungrateful!" Stalking back to the foot of the bed, she kicked off her slippers. "You’re not ignoring me. You’re not."

She crawled up the mattress, yanking the cover down and settling herself between them. Pulling the sheet and comforter up to her waist, she leaned against the headboard just they way they were and crossed her arms over her chest. "I am not ungrateful," she repeated. "I’m just ... not perfect. None of us are. We’ve all fucked up and -"

"Callie-" Raphael warned.

"FINE! We’ve all *screwed* up and because I am the queen of screwing up ... I know that you guys never meant to hurt me." Turning her head, she looked at her mother. "You had four kids and you did the best with me that you could. I was always mean to you and you probably thought I didn’t love you the same way I thought you didn’t love me. It’s not that you didn’t see me ... I just didn’t let you see a part of me that you *could* love. What you saw was someone who ran from you every chance she got. You didn’t think I was crying out for help when I decided to be Gothic because everything I did probably felt like a slap in your face so that was nothing new. I get that, Mom, and I think that what we have now makes up for it."

Callie didn’t wait for her mother to speak. She looked at her father and said, "And I could have told you that I didn’t want to work at FMC and you would have let me go. Because you’re my dad and you’d never want me to suffer. I do hate that you took my childhood from me and you made me grow up way too fast, but being mad won’t change it. As matter of fact ... it feels really fuc-er- freakin’ bad. Truth be told, I didn’t hate *all* of it. I liked feeling like I was the most important person in your world and being your partner. We had some great times, Dad, and I’d change a lot of it, but I’d keep a lot of it, too."

Unfastening the clasp on the oversized envelope, she took a deep breath. "I had to really think about what to give you guys for Christmas. I can’t draw, so art was out ... even though Addison is getting art that I kinda sorta *directed*, but didn’t really *do* ... she doesn’t need to know that. Anyway, I can’t knit. I can’t do pottery because it’s gross and not nearly as sexy as ‘Ghost’ made it seem. And stringing beads together just pissed me off so my options were limited. And I want to give you this now because I don’t want the real meaning of it to be lost in translation on Christmas morning when Cam is singing off key and trying to wrap me in garland."

Looking at Raph again, she said, "I met someone at rehab who was a lot like you. For some reason ... from the moment I got there ... he was on my side. Literally and figuratively. He led me through snow drifts and followed me everywhere I went. He kept me warm, he let me cry on his shoulder, and he refused to judge me. He just accepted me like I was and stuck with me through the worst of it. He saved my life the first night there because I got lost in a blizzard and he screamed until someone found me. And that’s what you did at FMC, too. You saved my life more than you risked it." She pulled an eight by ten photo from the envelope and held it out to him. In it, she was dressed in a fitted, spaghetti strapped dress and was reclining against against a fancy backdrop. Achilles was spread over her lap and they were both gazing at the camera with a cocky air of power. Amber had spent hours styling Callie’s hair just so and when Ange took the photo, they had all agreed that it was beautiful. "That’s Achilles. And just like you ... he was the best friend a person could have."
Raphael examined the photo, not bothering to wipe the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. "You’re beautiful."

"No duh. I look like my mom." Callie closed her eyes when he kissed her temple. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Mija." He cupped her face, then glanced at Melana, who was blotting at her eyes with the corner of the sheet.

Callie followed his line of vision and leaned against the headboard again, looking at her mother. "I used to get so pissed when you would make me go to a music lesson. I didn’t want to do it and you always said that one day I’d appreciate it. I can’t tell you how many hours I logged in the music room at rehab. I stayed there more than anywhere else and you were right. I appreciate it. The room was empty a lot of the time and I’d close my eyes and imagine you in the seats. You were always the first one to stand up and clap for me when I’d sing. You didn’t have to tell me it was great. You were my biggest fan and I didn’t understand that then, but I get it now. You’re still my biggest fan and I think you’d be shocked to know that it’s mutual ... because I’m yours. I want to be just like you. I want to be everything that you are because I think you’re pretty damn amazing."

Reaching into the envelope again, Callie pulled out a compact disk that was housed in a plastic case. "I wrote you a song that says all that a lot better than I just did. And," she pulled out a thick piece of parchment that had been written on in caligraphy. "those are the lyrics. I won’t even pretend that I wrote that because you’ve seen my handwriting, but I wanted it to be pretty and ... it is."

Melana looked down at the paper. She read the lyrics silently.


"Oh, honey," Melana said, putting a hand over her face as she began to sob.

"For heaven’s sake, Mom!" Callie hugged her, rubbing her back. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -"

"Hush," Mel cut her off and ran a hand over her hair. "Thank you, Callie. So much. I can’t believe you’d ever think for a second that I didn’t love you."

"You named me *Iphigenia*."

Melana laughed, kissing her daughter on each of her cheeks. "That was rather unfortunate, wasn’t it?"

"If you want to understate." Callie pulled a pillow from behind Raphael and stuck it under her head, scooting down in the bed and stretching out. "Alex is at work. So ... I’m sleeping here."

Raphael smiled at Melana, but that smile was shortlived when Callie lifted her right hand and rubbed her eyes. There, peeking from under her sleeve, was a chunky black tattoo. He grabbed her hand and pushed her sleeve up, eyeing it. "WHAT IN THE HELL IS THIS!?"

Her attempts at freeing her hand from his were futile and when she pushed her sleeve down, he simply pushed it back up. "Dad-"

"You are beautiful and every time you mark your body this way ... you get ugly. It makes you ugly. And when you’re old and your grandchildren can’t figure out what it’s supposed to be because it’s sagging so much ... you’re going to feel really ignorant."

"Wrists don’t sag." Callie pointed out. "And if it does, I’ll just get Mark to nip and tuck it."

"You’re not funny!" Raphael snapped. He held Callie’s arm up so Melana could see it. "Look at what she did! Look!"

Melana traced her fingers over the Greek letters. " Know Thyself’ ... do you think you do, mi vida? Know yourself?"

"I do. For the first time in a really, really long time ... I do."

"Then I think it’s beautiful." Melana said, bringing Callie’s wrist to her mouth and kissing it. "But the next spot that you tattoo ... I’m going to take a cheese grater to it so be careful where you put it."

"I’m *trying* to sleep." Callie attempted to sound exasperated, but she couldn’t. "I did have a very trying day."

"Why?" Raphael asked, eyeing her forehead again. "And what happened to your head?"

"Sleeeeepy," she replied. "I’m all talked out."

Leaning down, he rested his hand on her stomach and kissed her. When something poked his hand, he glanced down and said, "What is *that*?"

Callie yawned. "Hmm?"

"Lift your shirt?"

"My ... wh-" Callie’s eyes flew open and grabbed them hem of her shirt. "You know what? Maybe I should go sleep in -"

"Lift it. Now."

Squeezing her eyes closed, Callie exposed her belly button ring. She heard her mother gasp and could actually *feel* her father building up to yell at her. "In my defense-"

"There is no defense," Raphael snapped. "Take it out."

"I just got it yesterday! If I take it out then it’ll close up!"

"TAKE. IT. OUT!"

"Dad-"

"I can’t undo the ink that you’ve ruined yourself with, but I can do something about this. You either take it out and give it to me or I’ll take it out and you can spend the next hour trying to stop the bleeding."

The determination in his eyes prevented her from objecting further. She sighed heavily and said, "Fiiiiine." Reaching down, she unscrewed the top ball and slipped it out, hissing in pain as she did so. "Ow."

"Serves you right." Raphael held out his hand and accepted it, then resolutely threw it across the room. "You can have your three tattoos and -"

"Four." Melana cleared her throat. "Our daughter apparently renewed her vows and didn’t tell us."

Callie snored.

Raphael continued to rant until he was certain that his daughter’s snores finally became real.

At four that morning, Alex walked into his bedroom with a smile on his face. When he saw that the bed was empty, he was terrified that he had imagined it all. His palms began to sweat and his heart started to pound until he saw that her luggage was indeed there. He checked the kitchen next, then the living room. After scouring every inch of the house, he finally eased the guest room door open. The smile returned to his face when he saw that his wife was sleeping soundly on her mother’s shoulder. Raphael had a hand on her back and he wished that he had a camera because it was beautiful. He didn’t have the heart to wake her.

For the first time since Callie had been gone, he didn’t mind sleeping without her.

Because she would be there when he woke up.

*~*~*~*~
CH 30
Addison was sure that pregnancy had its perks. She was, after all, creating twin lives, but as she kneeled in front of the toilet and wretched hard enough to strain her throat ... she couldn't think of a single perky thing about it. Not when she felt like she was in the last, violent, ugly throes of death. And oatmeal, she decided, would never again be on her menu. Coming or going ... it repulsed her. She flushed and rested her head against the toilet seat, thankful that Melana had insisted on hiring a maid for her to help her clean. If she let herself think about germs or her husband's naked ass, the same naked ass that had gotten her pregnant, sitting where her head currently rested ... she would never get off her aching knees and return to bed.

Perk one, she thought, resting her palms against her belly. Creating human life would give her a special kinship with her patients. Just yesterday, she had felt such a kinship with an expectant mother that she had wept with her as they both sat with tacky orange basins in their laps to vomit into. So, there was a blessing. Now she didn’t have to simply nod sympathetically when a woman told her that it felt like her intestines were flapping wildly while the room spun out of control every morning. Now she could agree whole heartedly and fall apart with them. So ... there was that.

Perk two, she thought, coughing hard enough to warrant another sputtering, gut churning spasm of uncontrollable heaving ... Mark was proving himself to be quite the nurturer. Whether it was instinct or Melana threatening him didn't really matter. What mattered was the fact that he didn't grumble when she shook him awake at night to wet a cloth for her head. He rolled out of bed the second he heard her coughing in the morning and didn't protest when she woke him up in the on call room to hold onto her when her hormones got the best of her. He had stopped ribbing her about the mood swings and when she insisted that he turn on the air conditioning two hours after asking him to build a fire ... he simply did it ... and put his jacket back on. Yes, Mark was rapidly becoming a father and he was practicing his skills on her. That was pretty nice. He took care of her well.

Perk three, she thought, breathing hard as she wiped her eyes with toilet tissue ... she was able to park in the expectant mother spot at the grocery store. Okay, that was reaching, but not thinking about vomit for two seconds was worth the reach. The previous day, she had stopped to buy toilet tissue and crackers and got a front row parking space. Given the rain, that was a good thing, and an elderly man who had seen her park insisted on sharing his umbrella with her. Inside the store, she chose a buggy with a little plastic car attached that would hold two toddlers easily and pushed it all over the store just to see how it felt. Granted, it didn’t come complete with two hungry, hysterical, sobbing children the way some random woman’s buggy was equipped, but that was okay. It would happen soon enough and she would probably looked just as frazzled and out of sorts as the young mother in mismatched clothing who kept apologizing as he little boy screamed for a sucker. The little girl had been screaming just to hear herself, from the looks of it. Addison decided, at that exact moment, that she would trade in heels for tennis shoes and baggy sweats and deal with temper tantrums because some things were just worth the trade. It had felt amazing to push that oversized cart around.

It still felt pretty damned amazing ... so amazing in fact that when she spotted diapers that were on sale ... she spent nearly five hundred dollars to 'stock up'. If the morning sickness hadn't made it real enough, the diapers certainly had. After opening a package of newborn size Pampers, she inhaled the sweet, powdery scent before laying it over her stomach. Mark had found her like that, looked at her like she was crazy, then reached into the package and pulled out another one, holding it in the palm of his hand to marvel at the size. For some reason, that had turned her on so much that she had him out of his clothes and flat on his back in record time. She did all the work. And loved every second of it. Hormones weren’t really *all* bad. And hers raged when she wasn’t hugging the commode.

Perk four, she thought, as she slowly got to her feet ... the nausea did eventually stop. She flushed again, then trudged to the sink to brush her teeth. It was the wrong thing to do. Whether it was the minty taste or the fact that she brushed deep enough to hit her tonsils, her gag reflex kicked in with a vengeance and frothing at the mouth, she kneeled to pray to the porcelain princess as she sputtered for relief. Her stomach cramped. Her back never stopped aching from the exertion of throwing up everything you had EVER eaten, and she was so light headed from lack of food that she was tempted to binge and purge just to trick her body into possibly remembering who was in charge.

A moment later she felt hands on her back and whimpered. "Mark ... kill me."

"I’m prettier than Mark and way better to have around."

Addison gasped and stared up at Callie. She stared at a Callie who was beaming at her like an idiot, whose smile could light up a room, whose collar bone wasn't nearly as prominent as it once had been, and a Callie who kneeled down beside her an offered her a cup of something that smelled like ginger snaps. "Oh my God. I'm either dreaming or I'm dehydrated enough to hallucinate."

"This is not a good look for you." Callie handed her a clean wash cloth and pointed at her own mouth. "You're foaming. And if you were going to hallucinate ... would you see me or Brad Pitt?"

"You," Addy replied, taking the cup and setting it aside so that she could hug her best friend properly. "Definitely you."

Callie held onto her. "I'm just not that into chicks, but if I was, you'd so be my girl crush."

"No shit." Addison ran a hand over her friend's hair, clinging to her. "I'm so glad to see you. You look amazing."

"I feel amazing." Callie sat back and pointed at the cup. "And so will you if you drink that."

Addison accepted it and cautiously sipped. It was *good* so she tipped it back, draining the orange liquid. Her intestines felt like someone had wrapped them in a warm, soft blanket and she smiled. "If this is some kind of hoodoo ... I will be pissed later."

"No hoodoo involved." Callie glanced around the bathroom with a look of distaste. "Although, this wallpaper reeks of bad juju."

"Leave my wallpaper alone! You're still harboring ill will from nearly being scalped by it. It's pretty!"

"It looks like you ate Skittles and then shit rainbows rainbows all over the place." Callie got to her feet, holding out her hand. "Come on. My peripheral vision is on overdrive and I'll be the one puking if this keeps up."

"You're just jealous."

"Yes, Addison, psychedelic wall coverings from Nineteen Seventy Four make my green eyed monster stand up and cry foul."

In the bedroom, Addison lay back on the bed, crossing her feet at the ankles. "Why are you home?"

"Finished the program." Callie climbed in beside her, rolling on her side and propping her head in her palm. "I'm better."

"You really do look it." Addison rolled to face her, mirroring her by propping her head up as well. "Were they good to you?"

"You know what? They really were. I can't say much for the weather, but pick the place up and set it down in Hawaii and I'd call it vacation and go once a year."

Addy grinned. "You can't ski for shit."

"I didn't realize I was supposed to go down the slopes on my feet and not my head."

"The video showed you on your ass more than your head."

"I edited out my killer head spin. I never knew break dancing was so easy."

"I'm glad you're home."

"Me too. It really, truly sucked to be gone. I’ve scared myself straight." Callie reached out, touching Addy's stomach. "Feel better?"

"I do." Addison grinned when Callie located the slight mound where she was only just beginning to show. It was hardly larger than a tennis ball, but it was there. She didn't move, letting the other woman rub the belly that she was slightly self conscious about with anyone else.

"I can't wait until they start moving," Callie finally said. "I may hang around so much that you’ll break my hands to make me go away and leave you alone."

"Alex said that the two of you are going to try for a baby."

"We've gone past 'going to' straight into 'repeatedly trying'. If last night and this morning is any indication ... I'll either get pregnant or sprain my unmentionables." She wiggled her brows. "I stopped taking the Depo. I had a little cramping a few weeks ago, but I didn’t start my period. I was sure I was going to."

"Could be gas."

"Could be your face."

"Ha ha." Addison playfully smacked her on the arm. "I'm working tomorrow. Want me to investigate your 'unmentionables'? You should get a routine exam after stopping the shots."

"If you want to see me naked you have to take me to dinner first. Wanna go out tonight?"

"Actually, yes. We're going to Vinnie's Italian Bistro. It's a fancy thing so dress up."

"Yeah? What's going on?"

Addison told her.

Callie's eyes filled with tears. "That’s actually very romantic and I think I’m gonna cry."

"Awww, you little kid!"

"I did sleep between my parents last night."

"To protect your groin from sprain or to make nice."

"To make nice. The groin Olympics before that earned me a gold medal in carnal contortionism." Callie took a deep, contented breath. "I’m really happy. Happy like that moment on the roller coaster where you’re just a second away from dropping and you know it’s coming and you start screaming with excitement before anything really happens."

"I’m happier," Addison stated. "Happy like a good pedicure at a fancy spa that pampers you with a face mask while water trickles in the background fountain."

"I’m even happier." Callie looked thoughtful. "Like ... running through a field of wildflowers singing show tunes happy."

"So am I. Only, not singing. I'm more ... casually walking through a shopping mall with the perfect purse while I hum off key."

Callie scrunched her nose. "If we have to be at the mall then I am sipping one of those overpriced teas and eating a pizza sized cookie while I mock you for shopping."

"Your happy place includes mocking me?"

"My happy place usually involves you in some way or the other." Callie gave her a sweet smile. "Our lives really are kinda perfect, huh?"

"Totally perfect."

They stared at one another, their smiles fading.

Addison spoke first. "We're doomed."

"So doomed."

*****

Derek spent his first break of the day waiting for the little girl to wake up. He had taken her off the medication that kept her sedated first thing that morning and told the nurse to page him when she came around. No page came. Not that morning and not at lunchtime, when he bought a sandwich and took it to her room. She was no longer lying on her back. She had curled onto her side and one tiny bare foot was peeking from under the cover. Her tiny toenails had been painted cotton candy pink and he stared at those little toes as he slowly ate. Her mother, the same one who had been turned over to the funeral home, had probably polished her nails and told her to be very still while it dried. Leaning closer, he saw that the color was pristine. She was obviously obedient. Lifting the cover, he studied her other foot and smiled. The paint on those toes had chipped off and been smeared on her skin. Not too obedient, then.

"Mama."

Derek dropped the cover over her legs and looked at her. She had one hand curled under her cheek and her green eyes were focused on him, unblinking. 'Hi there."

Her eyes followed his every move. "Where is my mommy?"

"How do you feel?"

"Mama?"

"You’re in the hospital. You had an accident and that thing on your arm is called a cast. It helps your bone not hurt anymore." He kept his voice soft and soothing and he knew that she couldn’t possibly process what he was saying to her, but he wanted to confuse her enough to stop asking for her mother. He simply didn’t have the courage to tell her where she was. "And that thing in the back of your hand is an IV. It’s giving you medicine."

"Who are you?"

Derek hooked his foot under the rolling physician's stool and sat down beside her bed. "I’m your doctor. My name is Derek. What's your name?"

"McKenna," she replied. One dainty little hand reached out and touched the stethoscope around his neck. "What's that?"

He took it off and put it in her ears, then laid the amplifier over his heart. "Hear that?"

She nodded.

He put it over her heart next and she giggled, saying, "Boom. Boom. Boom."

He watched her take the earpieces out of her ears and study them. "How old are you?"

"Five."

She was small for her age. The police had gone to her mother's apartment and retrieved her birth certificate. There was no father listed and they had informed him that morning that the mother's co-workers didn't know of any relatives. He knew what would inevitably come. As soon as he released her she would become a ward of the state. He could realistically keep her under observation for two weeks, maybe three. Realistically, he could claim that he needed to run more tests during week four and when week five rolled around he could pretend that she had a fever and he was afraid of an infection.

Realistically, Derek Shepherd could bungle her medical chart enough to keep her there six weeks. He could. Adjust this, tweak that, and he'd have her under his care for as long as he wanted because *realistically* ... she had awakened something in him that he didn't understand and his need to protect her was greater than anything else he had ever experienced.

He wanted to take care of her.

He wanted to take her home with him.

Just as realistic, however, was the fact that he lived in a one bedroom trailer when he wasn't sleeping at Meredith's. He didn’t know anything about cooking except frying trout and pouring milk over cereal. He had never read a bedtime story or kissed a scraped knee. He had never bathed a child or dressed one for school. But he had grown up with sisters and he knew how to paint their nails because they always beat him up if he refused. And he knew how to comfort, how to love, how to *care* a hell of a lot better than the State of Washington.

"I'm hungry," McKenna said, pushing herself upright. The movement forced her to flinch, then cry out. The shunt had been removed, but her broken wrist and mangled flesh would take weeks. "It hurts!"

"Shhh," Derek soothed her, lifting her into his lap while he pressed the call button for the nurse. When Olivia arrived, he requested McKenna's pain medication and administered it into her IV himself. When her pain eased enough, he offered her his unfinished sandwich, but she shook her head, leaned her head against his chest, and dozed off.

Realistically ... Mark Sloan was Derek's best friend, but he hated him so much at that moment that he would have choked him with IV tubing if he walked into the room. Mark was the football player, Derek was the band geek. Mark was the lady killer, Derek was the little brother that the hot girls came to for boy advice (usually about Mark). And now Mark had Derek's life. He was married to Addison and was well on his way to a minivan and PTA. Derek didn't want Addison. He wanted Meredith as his wife and a brick house with a minivan parked in the garage and two point five kids chasing him across the manicured lawn while a friendly Golden Retriever barked happily. He wanted the god damn Norman Rockwell painting, but he’d settle for Family Circus in a heartbeat.

He wanted the kid in his arms to get to be a big sister.

Realistically, he could try to adopt her.

"Hey."

Looking up, he saw Meredith standing in the doorway. His eyes instinctively moved to her belly, flat beneath her scrubs. If they ever did get pregnant, she would likely carry high. "Hey."

"She woke up?"

"For a few minutes. She knew her name."

Meredith walked across the room and rubbed the little girl's face, then took her hand and kissed it. "Does she know about her mother?"

"No."

Meredith looked up at him. The fact that he had been pacing the floors and calling to check on the child's status all hours of the night was not lost on her. Neither was the way he looked at Mark when Mark mentioned morning sickness or midnight cracker runs. That look said it all. He didn’t have to announce what he wanted because she knew him and his eyes were windows to his soul. Doctors were not robots. There were some cases you couldn't escape. Cases that followed you home and invaded your sanctuary until it became a part of you. McKenna Cressman had invaded Derek's sanctuary and he didn't want her out of it. Meredith didn’t know what that would mean in the long run, but she wanted to give him everything he wanted.

She laid her hand over his and said, "I need you to meet me after work."

"Where?"

"At Vinnie's Italian Bistro. I put some clothes in your locker."

"Is there something wrong with what I wore to work."

"Just ... wear it. And don't be late. Seven sharp, okay?"

"Okay."

He smiled when she kissed him, then dropped a feather light kiss on McKenna's head.

Realistically, they weren't a family.

But absolutely ... he could imagine they were.

******

"Are you kidding me?" Cristina said, gazing at her reflection in the bathroom of Vinnie's Italian Bistro. "Did you actually wear this thing to prom?"

"Junior prom and yes, I did," Meredith replied. "It's been in the attic. That's why it smells like that?"

"A lovely mixture of bat droppings and moth balls." Cristina picked up a can of Lysol that was sitting on the run down sink, spraying herself with it. She choked and sputtered, waving a hand back and forth. "Now it smells like Early Morning Breeze, bat droppings, and moth balls."

"You try planning a wedding in three days on a budget of four hundred and twelve dollars."

"You are just sitting on your mother's life insurance money. I could be at a destination wedding right now, but nooooo." Cristina looked in the mirror again. "Instead I'm draped in taffeta and left wondering who invented this color because they were legally blind. And there is NO WAY you got laid after this getup. I'm surprised you ever got laid at all if this is how you dressed. Go uninvite Burke. I don't want him to see me like this."

Ignoring her friends ranting, Meredith checked her watch. "It's nearly time."

"Can you at least blindfold Burke with a napkin?"

"The napkins at this place are in a canister. They're not cloth." Meredith looked at her friend. "How do I look?"

"Like you need to shit or throw up."

"Oh god."

Someone knocked on the door and Cristina unlocked it, gasping. She yanked Callie into the room and hugged her. "You’re home! Sorry, I stink. How are you?"

Callie grimaced and backed away. "I’m good, but you smell like an old man's underwear drawer."

"Ugh, she's right," Addison said, rushing into a stall to throw up. "I hate you!"

Callie hugged Meredith, telling her that she looked beautiful in her simple, ivory, knee length dress. Meredith replied in kind, going on and on about Callie's v-neck, cleavage baring Donna Karan dress. Cristina crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Addison, who emerged from the stall flushed and sweaty. The red hair she had painstakingly smoothed into a French twist had come loose, hanging lopsided around her face and her mascara was running down her cheeks. "And even like *that*," Yang said, pointing at her. "You still look better than me right now."

An hour and a half later, Cristina cleared her throat, smoothed the dress down and when she held up her glass to make a toast to Mr. and Mrs. Derek Shepherd, she forgot her humiliation and spoke from the heart. Ugly dresses notwithstanding, toasting your person on her wedding day and watching her smile like she had never smiled before was pretty damn amazing. Cristina would have died on the spot and been buried in that damned ugly dress to keep that smile on Meredith's face.

Women were lucky to find that one soul on earth who loved you at your worst, didn't envy you at your best, and stood beside you when you had to stare down the world at large. Callie had that in Addison. Cristina had that in Meredith and they all had it in varying degrees with each other. Let the men have their cigars and football games, she thought. Women had something better, something deeper and more profound. Whether they became wives, mothers, or female surgeons at the top of their game was of little consequence because at the end of the day ... they were friends who could laugh, cry, and celebrate in equal measures and never regret a second of it.

"Are you going to cry, Cristina?" Burke asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and swaying back and forth in time to the music that was playing.

"I do not cry at weddings. I mock and point." She felt her throat constrict when Meredith laughed and spun around on the dance floor. "I only look like I might because I'm allergic to ugly and this dress gives me the hives."

"You make it look good." He kissed her cheek the wheezed. "But you need a bath. Possibly with bleach."

Across the room, Melana was sitting next to Callie. Her daughter was eating chicken alfredo with a smile on her face as she listened to Addison talk about Mark's pregnancy suit. Mark was across the room talking to Raphael and Alex and he kept stealing glances at her, counting the bites she took the same way Alex was counting Callie's. She caught her son in law's eye and he winked at her. Callie saw it as well and shook her head. "Apparently my husband is the president of your fan club, Mom. I've been hearing all about the way you ironed his clothes, cooked for him, and packed his lunch. Thanks for raising the bar so high."

Melana chuckled. "He's charming, that one."

Callie looked at him, at the way his shirt hugged his broader shoulders, and her mouth went dry. "Yeah, he is."

"So charming, in fact, that I won't even comment on the acoustics in your bathroom or the fact that the security camera was on and pointed at the hot tub when the two of you splashed half the water out."

Callie dropped her fork. "We were, uh, exercising."

"Of course you were," Melana said. "It sounded like you were feeling the burn and enjoying it."

Addison laughed, unable to help herself. Callie shot her a look. "Don't encourage her."

Melana patted her hand. "Your father and I are going to stay on your new yacht."

"You don't have to do that," Callie replied. "We'll, er, be quieter."

"I won't." Mel shrugged. "You interrupted our adult movie night last night so your father and I plan on recapturing the moment later on."

Callie set her fork down. "I liked you better when you were flirting with Webber and NOT being gross and inappropriate with my dad."

"Speaking of Webber." Addison nodded at the door. "He's here and he just spotted you."

Callie turned and watched the Chief hug Meredith and Derek, handing them an envelope. When he headed their way, Callie got to her feet. He wrapped her in a bear hug, then held her at arms length, looking her up and down. He smiled at Melana and said, "You let her out of the house in this dress?"

"I bought it for her," Melana replied, aware that Raphael was glaring at her. He liked to bring up Richard any time she made him angry. "Would you like to join us?"

"I definitely will, but I need to steal Callie for a minute." He extended his hand. "Care to dance?"

Callie nodded and let him lead her to the spot in the middle of the room that had been cleared of tables. She looked up at him as he put his hand on her back. "Alex already told me. About the board and the evaluation. I understand and I won't let you down."

"I'm not interested in talking to you about work." He smiled at her. "As your AA sponsor, however, I want to tell you how proud I am of you, how beautiful you are, and how much I'm going to make you pay for driving drunk when you *do* come back to work. You, my dear, will work every DUI that rolls into that ER and you will break the news to every family that loses a loved one to alcohol. Oh, yes, you will."

"I thought we weren't talking about work."

"I’m talking about punishment. I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You think the board will let me come back?"

"I have glowing letters on my desk from all my attendings and several residents. I also have a copy of the check from the fundraiser you hosted for the memorial clinic that will give them millions of reasons to cut you some slack." He spun her away from him, pulled her back, and dipped her. "Not to mention my own ass, which I'm putting on the line for you."

"You said ass."

He chuckled. "Unless I'm mistaken ... your father is thinking of kicking mine."

"You are the first guy to ever capture my mom's attention other than him. You really are a lady killer, Chief."

He seemed to stand a little taller. "Really?"

"Yeah. Total package. Handsome, kind, and incredibly sexy in that smart way that chicks dig. My mom certainly did," Callie replied. She was lying through her teeth. She doubted that even an act of God could make Melana think of any man other than Raphael Torres as a sexual being, but Richard needed the boost on confidence. Alex told her he had been aimlessly wandering the hallways again and since she’d had her fair share of doing that, she understood. "You are welcome to come to Christmas dinner if you don't have plans."

"Thank you, but I'm working," he replied. "I have to work so that you children can be off."

"Then I'll make sure to bring you something." She cleared her throat. "Speaking of people being off. I was wondering if I could steal Alex the week after Christmas. I want to take him to Disneyland to make up for the hell I’ve put him through."

"Take two weeks with him." Richard tightened his grip on her hand. "The board won't be meeting with you until January Fifteenth. I can't let you come back before that."

"Two weeks, huh?" Callie grinned. "I can do that."
"Bring me back some mouse ears."

"Ahem."

Richard turned and nodded at Raphael, who had tapped him on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?"

"Not at all." Richard smiled down at Callie and excused himself.

"Way to be suave, Dad," Callie said when Raph took her into his arms and began to sway.

"I don't play well with others."

"A smart man ... would have asked his wife to dance." Callie inclined her head to the right, where Melana was now dancing with Richard. When her father started to move that way, Callie gripped him tighter. "For Heaven's sake! You were in the CIA. She's baiting you and you are about to fly right into her web ... where she will laugh at you before she devours your delicate heart. So ... dance with me and then do the non-desperate thing by not rising to her challenge."

Raph's jaw tightened. "Where are his hands? Why is she laughing like that? Is he touching her?"

Callie sighed. "Mom said you guys are going to stay on the yacht.."

With a nod, he turned her and casually watched his wife. The spot on Richard's chest where she playfully smacked him was the spot he would shoot first. "I've hired a construction crew to build us a house. Its on the other side of the cove. It'll face yours and when you give me grandchildren, plural, I'll sail over in a little boat and pick them up so that Melana can fatten them like little hogs and I can spoil them completely rotten."

Callie shook her head. "And then you send the spoiled little piggies back to the big bad wolf who doesn't give them everything they want so that you're the good cop and I'm the bad cop. No way."

"Wait until you have kids. If 'no' is in your vocabulary at all, I'll die of shock." He met her eyes. "And if it's in your vocabulary right now ... you certainly don't say it to Alex nearly enough."

Callie felt her face turn crimson. "Well, according to Mom ... you two are addicted to porno so don't cast stones because I cast right back."

It was Raphael's turn to turn red. "Your mother is far too open."

"Eww," Callie groaned. "You really were watching porn? Gross! My elderly parents are perverted geriatrics who turned my house into a den of depravity."

"We are not old! And we found the movie in *your* office."

"Oh! In that case ... carry on." The song ended and Callie kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad you're building a house here."

"Why is that?"

"Because I seem to lose my way when you guys are gone." She smiled at him. "Plus ... Mom likes to cook and I like to eat so it'll all work out."

By the time Derek and Meredith left for a weekend camping trip, a 'honeymoon' that was mocked horribly by Cristina, Callie was exhausted. She leaned her head against Alex's shoulder in the booth and resolutely shook her head when he offered a bite of his wedding cake. "Two pieces is my limit and I'm pretty sure that last one went straight to my thighs."

He slipped a hand along her leg. "Hmmm, I can't be sure. I need a closer look. Maybe I could bury my head between them and see a little better."

Neither had noticed that Raphael was behind them gathering his coat. "Or," he said casually. "You could curb that impulse and live a little longer."

Alex dropped his fork full of white cake onto his black pants, saying nothing as he mopped at it. Callie shot her father a scathing look. "Evil."

"Your mother and I have a mission. Meredith asked for our help so refrain from going to jail again because of your ... urgencies because I'm turning my phone off. We have to get up early."

"What are you doing for her?"

"Honey, I was in the CIA. What am I not doing?"

******

The hot tub was bubbling when Callie eased away from Alex for the second time and positioned her back so that one of the jets hit her aching muscles just so. She groaned in relief and rested her head against the rim, closing her eyes. She felt the water shift and smiled when Alex rubbed his hands up her body and settled between her legs, kissing the side of her neck. "You can not be ready to go again."

He kissed her earlobe. "You can not honestly expect me to believe that a *bird* did that to your head, bruised your legs, *and* hurt your back."

"My back is fine."

"Then why did cry out like that earlier?"

"Because of what you were doing to my front." Opening her eyes, she grinned at him. "If you wanted to do that again ... I'd say yes."

"What happened to your head?"

"Guess what?" Callie asked the same way you'd ask someone in passing. "Richard gave you two weeks off after Christmas so you can enjoy your present a lot more."

"Two weeks, huh?" Alex nodded his approval. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I’m gonna let you change the subject and pretend that I didn't notice because I have a feeling that the truth about your head will give me an ulcer, but I'm gonna keep asking and because you love me ... you're going to eventually tell the truth."

His hand slipped between her legs and her back arched of its own accord. "I'll tell you later."

They were pruned by the time they slipped into bed a while later. Callie was just about to doze when she sat bolt upright. "We forgot the damn dog again!!"

"Shit." Alex rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry."

"We have to do better. We are gonna be those parents who forget their kid in the ball pit at McDonald's."

"Then we won't eat at McDonalds."

"Alex!"

"When you call my name like that ... I get all hot and bothered."

"AGAIN!?"

"Yep."

"I’m telling my dad."

"I’ll risk it."

******

Cambyses smiled at Blake, grabbing his hand as Izzie and Eros walked ahead of them toward the limo. Seattle was rainy, but Cam’s mood was bright and shiny as he readjusted the Rose of Jericho that was tucked under his arm. Christmas morning could not possibly come fast enough, he decided. He could hear Izzie’s happy laughter and watched as she skipped prettily beside her boyfriend. If the sounds from the bedroom of the private jet were any indication ... they were definitely back together. As a matter of fact, Blake had forgiven Cambyses as well, quite thoroughly rocking his world as they crossed the ocean. A strange sense of calm and euphoric joy had descended over the entire group and they had laughed more than anyone should. Blake had even joked that the Rose was imbued with laughing gas as tears streamed down his cheeks after Eros told an off color joke about a duck, a rope, and a bar.

After they dropped Izzie off at her apartment, with Eros hot on her heels, they headed for Callie’s place. It was late and Cam knew he should have insisted on getting a room at the Archfield rather than risk waking up his parents, but he was aching to see them and he wanted to raid the refrigerator for leftovers ... something the Archfield simply couldn’t give him. When they arrived, he plugged the number into the gate and helped Blake with the luggage, then unlocked the front door and quietly entered, setting the gaily wrapped Rose under the tree where a huge pile of gifts had already been artistically arranged by his mother. Melana Torres paid attention to detail and growing up ... she could tell whose presents had been tampered with and she would resolutely take them back to the store, convinced that her children had spoiled the surprise. He saw a package that was addressed to him and playfully moved it to the other side of the tree because his mother would spot it right away and pitch a tantrum which was always amusing to see.

All of the sudden, Blake screeched, something shattered, and then something that sounded like a body hit the floor.

Cambyses rushed forward, turning on the light.

"AM I DECAPITATED!?" Blake was sitting on his backside in the floor and a plate lay in shards around him. He was resolutely rubbing his throat. "SHE THREW THAT AT ME LIKE A FRISBEE! I HEARD IT COMING LIKE A FLYING HAND OF DEATH!!"

"DAMN YOU, BLAKE!" Callie yelled, obviously shaken. "SCARE THE HELL OUT OF SOMEONE! AND THAT WAS THE LAST PIECE OF PIE, TOO!"

The bedroom door opened and Alex came running, falling over Blake and yelping when a shard of the plate bit into the bottom of his bare foot. He did a face plant and rolled onto his back, clutching his foot. "Why the hell can’t you people be normal!?"

"She tried to sever my head!" Blake cried, pointing his finger at Callie. "Don’t throw plates at me! I mean it!"

"DON’T SNEAK AROUND MY HOUSE!" Callie shouted back. "AND DON’T BREAK UP WITH MY BROTHER AGAIN OR I’LL SEVER THE OTHER HEAD!"

"Knock it off!"Cam leaned down, wrenching his boyfriend to his feet, then helped Alex to his and watched him hobble to the couch and sit down. He kneeled down beside Callie and helped her gather the broken dish. "Why are you home? Because of the cra-"

"No," Callie said loudly, poking his knee with a particularly sharp piece. "Because I completed the program and the *lack* of *excitement* was going to do me in."

"Lack of excitement? You almost di-"

She drove the shard into his knee again, poking a hole through his leather pants, and he bellowed his disapproval. A moment later, the door was opened with enough force to practically blow it off the hinges and Raphael ran in, a pistol in his hand. Melana followed him, wielding her purse like a deadly hammer. The thigh high stockings she wore were black and sheer, with dainty little bows at the top. Her bodice was skin tight, strapless, and pushed her breasts up high and proud while her lacy boy shorts left nothing to the imagination. When Cam tore his eyes away from her and saw the gun his father was brandishing, he lifted his hands in surrender. "DAD! ARE YOU WEARING YOUR CONTACTS!? GIVE ME THAT!"

"WE HEARD SCREAMING!" Melana peered around the room as if she anticipated seeing a robber in their midst. Her eyes landed on Blake and she lowered her purse, one hand on her hip. "YOU! DID I NOT SLAP YOU HARD ENOUGH LAST TIME!? SHOOT HIM, RAPHAEL!"

"Mom!" Cambyses moved across the room swiftly, taking her purse from her hands and dropping it on the floor beside her. He wrenched his jacket off and put it over her, trying to tie the sleeves behind her back. "Put the cows back in the barn, stripper, and tell me who sold you lingerie so I can kick their ass."

Melana gasped, looking down at herself. "Clearly your father has taken the liberty to change my clothing while I was sleeping innocently and -"

"Riiiiight." Cam chuckled.

"If any of you *ever* mention this again -" Melana began.

"Don’t worry," Callie said. "It will live in infamy as that which must not be named."

"No, let’s name it ‘therapy’." Cambyses suggested. "Because I’m gonna need it now."

"One night of undisturbed sleep! ONE NIGHT!" Raphael bellowed, releasing the clip from his gun. "That’s all I ask. And you heathens can’t keep it down long enough to -"

"Yeah, right! Like you were sleeping!" Callie accused. "Perverts."

"You weren't sleeping either," Alex pointed out, still massaging his foot which was thankfully not bleeding. "Why are you out of bed?"

Callie held up the plate pieces she had amassed. "Because I was *hungry*. Starchy pasta doesn't stick around long."

Cambyses nodded. "We came here in search of leftovers. Got anything good?"

Melana climbed up the two steps from the foyer, her furry high heeled slippers clicking on the hardwood. She was smiling so big now that it was almost comical. "I can throw something together for you two."

"You need to throw on clothes." Callie grimaced, looking at her mother's stocking clad legs. "I need a new yacht. That one is tainted now."

Cambyses studied bandage on his twin’s forehead. "He will probably go broke replacing the helicopter you crashed like a redneck at a demolition derby."

The plate slid from Callie's hands and she made a beeline for the hallway. Behind her, Raphael yelled, "Freeze!"

Callie froze, her back to them.

"Turn." Raphael commanded.

Slowly, Callie did as he directed. Her eyes remained on the floor in front of her.

"Explain."

Carefully weighing her options, Callie did the only thing she could think of. She cried the biggest, fattest crocodile tears she could muster in the hopes that they would take pity on her. Only Blake did and all he could muster was a pat on her head and a fond 'there, there'. When the tears didn't work, she yawned dramatically and inched backwards, but Raphael cleared his throat and pointed at the couch.

Callie could outrun *him*, but not Alex and her husband had scooted over to make room for her. When she caught his eye, he said, "A bird, huh?"

"I didn't say it had feathers."

"What kind of rehab takes their patients flying? In the snow?" Raphael paced, a sure sign that he was agitated. Callie, who feared getting shot for her stupidity, carefully took the gun from him. He continued to rant like a lunatic. "And you know better than to fly in bad weather anyway because I taught you that myself."

Callie snarled her nose at her brother. "I'm gonna kill you later. Sleep with one eye open."

"If you kill like you fly ... I'm not really worried." Cam blew her a kiss. "Mom, are you gonna cook? I really want some biscuits and hash browns and maybe some bacon and -"

"This is not Burger King, son. You get it my way or nothing at all." Melana strutted across the living room. "Calliope, walk ... don't fly, into the bedroom with me and find me something to wear."

Callie didn't waste any time. She darted from the room faster than a tornado could have blown her. In the bedroom, she dug through her drawers until she located a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, holding it out to her mother. "Is this okay?"

"It's fine," Melana told her, studying her face. "You're embarrassed because you crashed. Am I right?"

Callie sighed. "For someone who claims to be a pilot ... I damn sure panicked the second disaster struck. I didn't think clearly, I didn't rationalize, and I didn't stay calm. I let go of the throttle and started praying and I was still praying when I peed my pants and fainted ... which was thankfully before we hit the snow bank and flipped upside down."

"What did you pray for?"

"Mercy. And to live."

"Well, He listened. He was merciful by making you faint so you wouldn’t suffer a heart attack from fright and here you are, alive and well."

"And why did He have me pee my pants?"

"Oh that's easy. To keep you warm until help arrived."

While Mel changed in the bathroom, Callie went to check on Alex. She found him in the kitchen getting a jump start on the cooking with Blake. She cleared her throat and said, "Can you come outside for a second?"

He nodded, washing the bacon grease from his hands before he followed her onto the back patio. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm sorry for lying about the crash."

"Oh, don't worry about it."

"Alex-"

"Don't worry about it."

"But-"

"After breakfast."

"Huh?"

"Apologize then." He put his hands on her hips and pulled her forward. "Apologize while you do a little strip tease and I'm pretty sure I won't think twice about forgiving you'"

"I'm pretty sure you won't enjoy it with a fork stuck in your eye," Cambyses said, stepping out of the shadows, where he had been talking with his father.

"And another one in your gut," Raph added. "That's the second time you have been crude and I won't stand for it."

Alex smirked at him. "You think my words are crude ... you should see me in action."

"Nicely done, Jock Strap!" Callie put an arm around his shoulder, squeezing him close. "You're a Torres now! Rude, crude, and perverted."

Alex looked stunned with himself.

He had no idea where *that* had come from.

******

Addison flipped through Callie's chart as she waited for her friend to arrive for her checkup. Her blood pressure was elevated four pages in and when she reached the halfway point she was seething. The only consistent thing Callie had accomplished with her health was inconsistency. She rarely reported for blood work, had yet to take her flu shot, and had only gotten three Depo shots in the past two years. Four was the required dosage per twelve months. Callie's weight had yo-yo'd, her blood cell count (when she had been bothered to submit to testing) ran from high to low, and her blood pressure did the same.

Addison went ahead and ordered a complete blood workup as she flipped through the remainder of her chart. She drew up short when she saw the DNR paper that was clipped in its proper place. The date at the bottom nearly caused her to swallow her tongue. Callie had signed it three days before Addison's wedding. Had she been planning to kill herself? Was she so miserable that she wanted to die? How had Addison not seen it?

Callie and Alex had been broken up at the time. She traced the date, trying to recall what could have happened. It took her a few moments, but she suddenly saw herself emerging from the elevator and Callie standing there, asking her if she wanted to have lunch. Addison had blown her off, saying that she had to visit the florist with Mark. She had invited Callie in passing ... and Callie had sadly shaken her head no. Had she signed the paper after that, Addison thought now, because she assumed no one cared?

"Hey," Callie said, running a hand over her hair as she walked up to the nurse's station where Addy was standing. "My ego misses this place. Nurse Tyler called me hot, that guy from radiology with the bad breath and crooked chin said that I'm too pretty for my own good, and George hugged me for ten minutes while he hummed 'Killing Me Softly'."

Addison pulled her glasses off, leaning over the counter to look at her friend from head to toe. The red sweater she wore was cut low in the front and wasn't quite long enough to cover her stomach, which peeked out above the low rise of her jeans. "You are hot."

"I am. Sweating like a pig, actually. I'm used to breathing icicles in Alaska." Callie sighed. "Ready to see my girly parts?"

Addison nodded, marking the DNR paper with her pen as she led her to an empty exam room. She sat down on a stool while Callie changed into a gown and when she emerged, Addy stared at her. She really was beautiful as she hopped up onto the table. Her black hair fanned out, then settled against her shoulders and her skin was glowing under the stark lighting. She hooked her ankles and swung her feet back and forth as she gazed out the window. She was too full of life, Addy reasoned, to really give up on it.

Callie looked at Addison and then did a double take. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. "Oh crap! Hormones suck."

"So does this," Addy replied, flipping open the chart and holding it up so that she could see. "DNR? Seriously?"

"Unless you plan on killing me with the speculum ... that doesn't need to worry you."

"Why? Why would you sign this?"

"Rip it up."

"What?"

"Tear it out of my chart and rip it up."

Addison didn't think twice. She did just that and didn't stop ripping until the wastebasket was full of Tic Tac sized pieces. "If you sign another one," the red head snapped, "you'll eat it."

"I won't."

"And you’re giving me blood and not whining about it!"

Thirty minutes, four vials of blood, and a urine test later, Addison set about the exam. The first thing she said was, "You need to wax, Cal. Your razor burn isn't cute."

"So sorry that I didn't get my cooter tarted up for you. If it knew you were coming ... it would have baked a cake," Callie replied, staring up at the ceiling. She felt a flutter of ... something ... as Addison poked and prodded, then slipped the speculum into her. When she closed her eyes ... she realized what that fluttering was. This was the same room that Miranda had examined her in after Randall McFry tried to rape her. The same room where Callie's dress had been cut away, leaving her bruised, shattered body exposed for all the world to see. The same room where she tried to tune out the harsh reality and sink into herself until she was no more. The cold instrument inside her had frozen her as Miranda worked to secure samples then and the feeling of it now was just the same. Turning her head, Callie focused on the clock, watching the seconds tick past.

It didn't help.

It reminded her that she couldn't turn back the hands of time and change it. She couldn't go back and fight harder or scream louder.

In this room, possibly on this same table, Callie Karev had become a victim. A statistic. A forever survivor of a brutal attack that had stolen something from deep inside her.

Time.

It had stolen her time..

The walls were closing in now and the simple round face of the clock was suddenly HIS face and the tick tocking was his voice raking against her skin like a thousand daggers. Randall McFry had been dead and in the morgue when Callie spread her legs for Dr. Bailey. He had been below her, wrapped in a body bag, while she was wrapped in terror and *paper* and doubt. "STOP!"

Addison jerked the speculum from her and dropped it. "Did I hur-"

Callie sobbed then. It was a harsh, real, ragged sound and she sat up, covering every inch of herself with the pathetic paper blanket Addison had spread over her for modesty. With her knees drawn upward, she leaned her head against them and cried. Addison touching her hair came very close to sending her sprawling into the floor because she jumped hard enough to fall, but Addy gripped her upper arms and caught her just in time.

"Cal-"

"I need to leave this room."

"Callie-"

"I have to get out of this room!"

"Will you-"

"I CAN'T BE IN HERE!!!" she screamed, clawing at the side of the table in an effort to hit the floor running.

Addison shook her none too gently. "Look at me! Callie!!"

Callie met her eyes. Addison took both of her hands in hers, holding tight. "Slow your breathing. Shhh."

"This is where I spent your wedding night." Callie sputtered, barely able to speak at all.

It clicked then. Addison looked at Callie's chart and hated herself for not realizing that she had led her best friend into a time machine and helped her relive what had happened to her. The room number was in her file. The rape kit findings were notated and Addison had read over all of it just moments before Callie had arrived. Wrapping her arms around her, Addison held fast. There was nothing she could say. Platitudes were still platitudes no matter how much your heart was in it.

They stayed that way until the storm passed and when Addison stood back to give her breathing room, she cringed. The same skin that had been glowing earlier was now red and splotchy and puffed with sadness. Addy opened her mouth to speak, to offer to do the exam some other time when someone knocked on the door. Olivia stuck her head in, looking shocked to see Callie's frazzled state. She held out a piece of paper, but didn't speak. She walked back out as quietly as she had come in.

Addison put the paper aside, wetting a cloth and holding it out to her friend. "Want to talk about it?"

"I thought I was over it. I'm sorry - I don't know what happened to me."

"You're human."

Callie pointed to the trash can in the corner with a trembling hand. "I threw up there because Miranda couldn't get me a basin fast enough." She pointed to the table that was pushed against the wall. "That's where they put my dress when they cut it off. They spread out a garbage bag for it because the police wanted evidence. I kept looking at it because I had been pretty in it, you know. And I wasn't pretty anymore. He - he mangled my face and cut me and I wasn't going to be the me who wore that dress ever again."

Addison started to cry. She wasn't Callie's sister by birth, but she was by choice and she hurt when Callie hurt, cried when she cried, and could picture everything Callie said so clearly in her mind that she shook with it. She opened her mouth to speak, but Callie continued.

"Miranda was very kind, very gentle. She walked me through everything she had to do, but it didn't matter. I wasn't there willingly. I wasn't there for my health or for anything routine. I was not raped." Choking on a sob, Callie looked at her friend. "But when she took samples, when she scraped under my nails and touched me ... I felt like I was. I felt violated and dirty and ... sick. He didn't have to penetrate me with anything other than his knife ... because that was enough."

Swallowing back the bile that had risen in her throat, Addy hugged her. Finally, Callie took a deep, hiccupping breath and eased back. Addison took the cloth from her and wet it again, pushing Callie's dark hair over her shoulders and smoothed the rag over her cheeks. "I wish I had been here."

"No, you don't. It was horrible."

"I'm sure it was, Callie, but I'd rather go through a lot of horrible with you than a lot of happy without you."

Callie smiled, sniffling. "I'm still not gonna do you."

Addison breathed a sigh of relief. The worst had apparently come and gone. "Want some water?"

Callie nodded.

Picking up a cup, she turned the water on and glanced down at the paperwork Olivia had delivered. She scanned through numbers and then she jerked as if she had been electrocuted and dropped the cup. Gasping, she picked it up and verified that she was seeing it correctly."Oh my God!"

"What?"

"This will teach you to *not* take your medicine the way it’s prescribed." Turning, Addy grinned from ear to ear. "I cannot wait until you get morning sickness."

"Huh?"

She handed her the paper. "Congratulations."

A few minutes later, Addison moved the sonogram over her mute friend's abdomen. "If my math is correct. You got pregnant in Greece on *my* honeymoon so you're just as trashy as me. And only a week behind me from the looks of it."

Callie was staring at the monitor, her face pale. "He's okay?"

"The baby is fine."

"I was spotting at Freedom Ridge."

"I spotted, too, but we can still check it out."

"I also got drunk."

"I got drunk a couple of times before I found out I was pregnant. Your Uncle Demi's wine kicked my ass." Addison patted her leg. "Women do that all the time without knowing it."

"But they don't drive when they're that way."

Addison's smile faded. "Don't do that. Take it from me, Callie, every mother makes mistakes."

"I could have killed my baby."

"I did kill mine. And we live and learn. Besides, you've already given this kid an advantage."

"Such as?"

"Rehab, freak. She completed the program with you. She will 'just say no'."

Callie looked at the monitor. "He's a boy."

"Because?"

"Because I have only ever seriously asked God for six things. And I asked for those six thing the day I came home. I asked for mercy. I asked to live. I asked for sobriety. I asked for my friends and family to forgive me. I asked for Alex to accept me back with open arms. And I asked for a son." She smiled. "God hasn't let me down so far."

"That's kinda beautiful."

"I'm not telling Alex until Christmas morning. That's just a few days away."

Addison wiped the gel off her friend's belly and pushed the sonogram machine back into the corner. "I'm only a week further than you and I'm sick as a dog and have a little bulge. Why is this not happening to you?"

"Uh, one baby versus two?"

The door burst open suddenly and Alex rushed in. He was dressed and scrubbed in for surgery, but he took one look at Callie’s face and hurried to her side. "What happened? Olivia said you were -"

"I’m fine," Callie told him.

"She had a panic attack." Addison cleared her throat and explained what had happened. She patted Callie on the leg and said, "We can do this in a couple of weeks. In another room and -"

"No." Callie took a deep, calming breath and put her feet back in the stirrups. "Let’s do it now."

Alex pulled a chair beside the head of her bed and sat down, taking her hand in his. He kissed the back of it and watched her closely. When she told him that he didn’t need to stay, he got to his feet and kissed her, telling her to be quiet.

If she had to sit in a room full of ghosts ... he’d damn sure keep them at bay.


*~*~*~*~*~

"Now, Gucci, you behave yourself. This little girl is very sick and I’ll not have you behaving like you belong in the jungle." Melana cooed to the monkey, who was tucked away in her purse, only his eyes and fingers visible as he peered out. "Do you think she’ll be frightened of him, honey?"

Raphael adjusted the oversized teddy bear he carried and took her hand in his. "Only if she has good sense. I look forward to meeting the person who has kept us tied up all day."

"It was actually much easier than I expected," Melana said, waving at Richard, who was standing in the lobby speaking to a patient. "I should go and say hello to -"

"Do it and I will kill him." Raphael tightened his grip, pulling her into the elevator. He pressed for the fifth floor and put an arm around her. "You were quiet impressive with Judge Hadley."

"I merely appealed to her maternal instincts. It certainly made more sense than bribing her, which you were about to pull out your checkbook and set about doing."

"Yes, I was."

The doors slid open and Melana gasped, a knobby kneed little girl with a cast on her arm and a bandage around her head was running straight toward them. Mel instinctively bent down and opened her arms. The little girl flew into them, burrowing against her. George came rushing around the corner, breathing hard. He bent at the waist, trying to breathe as he watched Callie’s mother pick up his patient and rub her back. Raphael narrowed his eyes at you. "You seem to have that effect on women, O’Malley."

"Yes, sir," George wheezed. He stood upright and joined them, holding out his hands to the little girl who slapped them away. "She’s not supposed to be out of bed. That’s the second IV she’s yanked and Dr. Shepherd threatened me to death. If anything happens to her -"

"Ahhh, the infamous McKenna." Raphael touched the little girl on the nose. "How are you, Mija?"

"What’s a mee-ha?" McKenna asked, lifting her head to look at him. She had a death grip on Melana’s neck and her face was streaked with tears. "Where is Derek? He had a sandwich for me."

Melana rubbed her bruised cheek. "Are you hungry, sweetheart?"

McKenna pointed at George. "He said I can’t have anything."

"I need to get her blood work!"

Eyes narrowed, Melana unfastened the snap on her purse. "Want me to make the bad man run?"

McKenna nodded.

"Gucci?" Melana called sweetly and the monkey scampered up her arm.

McKenna laughed when George screamed and ran down the hall ... then she crowed with delight when the little monkey ‘smiled’ at her and held out a marble.

*~*~*~*~

CH 31
Chunk was so happy to see Callie that when he spotted her standing in the groomer's lobby he peed on himself ... then slid down in it. He required another bath before she could take him home and the bill was highway robbery, but Callie didn't care. She paid and walked him out to her car (which her father had gotten repaired) and let him ride in the passenger seat. He took every opportunity he could to lick her face or nuzzle her hair and she was in need of a bath when she got him home. The dog stayed right beside her for several days, following her all over the house and watching her as if she would disappear. He whined if she shut him out of the bathroom and clawed at the door until she emerged. It took three nights of Alex scolding him to keep him out of their bed, but when Callie awoke in the mornings, the oversized puppy was always sitting with his jowls on the bed gazing at her. It annoyed Alex to no end, but she enjoyed the dog’s attention so much that she simply smiled and gave Chunk a dog biscuit every time he made her feel important.

Everyone settled into a comfortable routine as Christmas approached. Melana continued to cook enough food for a third world country and Callie was used to people dropping by just in time to earn an invitation. Apparently that had happened quite frequently during her stint at rehab and she didn't mind one bit. Seeing Cristina arguing politics with her father or Burke in an apron helping Melana cook was always entertaining. Derek liked to randomly stop in and enjoyed discussing fishing lures with Melana. He brought his collection the night before Christmas Eve, then asked Mel for a fishing date after the holidays. The older woman gladly accepted because fishing was in her blood and she loved his company. It was one more thing that Callie admired in her mother ... Melana had something in common with everyone and people sought her company and advice.

Callie wasn't sure what her parents had done for Meredith, but whatever it was had her parents visiting the hospital daily and taking Meredith to lunch more than once. She was willing to bet her inheritance that it involved a certain little girl who called Gucci 'the monkmee'. Alex talked about McKenna Cressman nonstop and regaled Callie with tales of her antics at night when they lay in each other's arms. He also brought up the fact that Derek spent hours playing Candy Land and undressing Barbies with her. Callie would have bet her inheritance *and* her yacht that Alex was in on that as well. It made her feel like the baby she carried in her womb was going to be the luckiest kid in the world. Because Alex was going to be *that* father who was just as interested in combing a doll’s hair as he was in surgery.

Morning sickness still had not arrived for Callie by Christmas Eve and she felt completely fine when she accepted Irene's invitation to breakfast. Alex was working and she had lunch plans with him so she ate a very light breakfast while she listened to Irene talk about how far she would go to win Alex's forgiveness. The woman did not mention the letter Alex had written her, but she did say repeatedly that Alex had started to speak to her more at the cafeteria and at home, where she was still living in the guard shack. As Callie chewed her omelet and debated a response ... her stomach rolled, then the room tilted, and she vomited all over her lap and the table. Luckily the restaurant was not crowded and Callie was able to rush to the bathroom without much commotion. She would be kicking Addison's ass for wishing this on her, she thought.

Claiming she had a bug, Callie took care of the bill and apologized to Irene. They didn't hug because Callie was a mess, but they did promise to do it again soon. After stopping three more times to be sick on her way home, she finally arrived and went straight to her room, where she showered, changed, and crawled into bed. She was sleeping peacefully when her mother shook her awake.

"I was gathering your laundry just now. You're sick?" Melana touched her daughter's forehead. "You don't feel warm."

"I'm not sick."

"Are you perhaps bulimic then?"

"No." Callie sat up far too fast. The room tilted again and she closed her eyes, reaching for her mother's hand. "Dizzy. As. Hell."

Melana's mouth fell open and she gasped. Her only daughter had been turning down morning coffee and eating plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables. She had second helpings at dinner and refused to rough house with her brother when he tried to goad her. And now, Callie's hand was resting against her belly and Mel's eyes filled with tears when Callie smiled at her and nodded. "You little jackass! You absolute heathen! How long have you known?"

Laughing, Callie replied, "Just a few days. No one knows except Addison. I wanted to surprise you all for Christmas, but this little guy seems hell bent on making his presence known before that. And stop crying because you're going to make me cry and then I'll probably barf again."

Melana pulled her into a tight hug, unable to stop the tears that coursed down her cheeks. "I am too young to be a grandmother!"

"You are not! Just ... retire the lingerie before he gets here or he's not spending the night with you."

"I want him to call me 'Nana'." She reached out, rubbing her daughter's flat stomach. "How far along?"

"Seven weeks. And yes. I know that means I got drunk and drove like an asshole while I was pregnant, but-"

"It also means I hit you while you were pregnant." Melana pulled her hand away and brushed the tears off her cheek. "I'm sorry, mi vida."

"I'm okay." As soon as the words were out, Callie turned green and leapt off the bed. There was nothing else in her stomach and dry heaving was technically worse so she was miserable. Melana clipped her hair back and put a cool cloth on her neck. "Thanks, Mom."

Mel watched her closely, then kneeled beside her. "What about your liver, sweetheart? Are you sure that-"

"Don't." Callie looked her in the eye. "Don't even think it. Even if they said it would be a problem ... I'd still have my baby."

Melana kissed her head. "And I'm always going to think about mine. Always."

It was Callie's turn to cry and she tried to hold it back, but didn't quite make it. "You know what? I couldn't ask for a better mother. And if this kid loves me just HALF as much as I love you then I'll know I did something right."

"That was very nice and now I’m glad that I spent so much money on you for Christmas." Melana made a face when Callie lunged for the toilet again. She rubbed her back and tried to comfort her as best she could, but it was no use. When Callie got herself under control, Melana said, "And he already loves you, by the way."

With her cheek against the toilet seat, Callie closed her eyes. "I sure do wish he'd show it."

******

Callie arrived at the hospital early for lunch with Alex because she had a very important patient to see. One who had been sleeping the last time she was there. After being waylaid an additional twenty minutes by well wishers, she finally made it to Finn's room and opened the door. Her greeting was silenced when she saw that he was already being visited, very thoroughly, by Sydney. Her eyes widened and her head tilted to one side as she took in the scene. Finn's hands were in the woman's curls, making them even more unruly than usual, and they were kissing so loudly that neither heard her enter the room or clear her throat.

When his hand went to the woman's breast, she knew she had seen enough to scar her for the rest of her life and turned to leave. She bumped a table, cringed, then drew up short when Sydney cried, "Callie O'Ma - er - Karev! You're back!"

Before Callie could even turn properly, Sydney had her in a backwards bear hug and was squeezing her around the middle. It was the wrong thing to do. Callie felt her stomach churn, pulled free, and took a deep breath, swallowing hard to keep from hurling. "Hey, Syd," she finally said, smiling at her. "How are you!"

"Sober. You?"

"Also sober." Callie touched the AA pin on the other woman's jacket. "Double digits. Good job."

"Are you okay?" Sydney asked, taking her hand. "You, uh, drank *my* stash, didn't you?"

"I did. Then I drove." Callie looked at Finn. He had flinched when she said it. "And then I got help. Really great help that saved my life. So, Finn, I stopped by today to tell you that when I get back to work ... I'm gonna kick your ass every single day in physical therapy and you *will* walk again."

He opened his arms and when she walked into them, he said, "I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of me, too," she replied, hanging on tight. In a low whisper, she added, "You were right about that place. I'm sorry your wife didn't go."

"It's okay." He looked up at her. "You did go and every time I look at you now ... I can see a little bit of what she could have been."

Callie smiled, then glanced at Sydney. The other woman was busying herself with Finn's lunch tray. "So ... I go away to rehab and you two ... did what exactly?"

"Well, your impeccable timing interrupted our first kiss," Finn said. "But I think she likes me."

Sydney put her hands on her hips. "I would just like to say that I do not routinely get involved with patients and *he* kissed me."

Callie raised a brow. "He's in traction. You were on his bed."

"I was fluffing-"

"Ohhh," Callie interrupted, chuckling. "Fluffing? Isn't that a little x-rated?"

"His pillows," Sydney plowed ahead. "And I wouldn't know what fluffing anything else is because I was home schooled."

"Is that why you're so red?" Finn asked, winking at Callie. "Because home schooled kids are sometimes like preacher's kids."

"Yep," Callie said. "And ... Sydney, don't forget that I spent the night in the on call room with you. You talk in your sleep."

"I have great dislike for the both of you." Sydney crossed her arms. "And I have to go see a patient."

"Or a man about a horse?" Callie suggested. She watched Finn kiss Sydney's hand and then told her goodbye. When they were alone in the room, Callie looked at him. "You liiiiike her."

"I liiiiiike her," Finn agreed. "Hey, can you tell me what she wrote on my cast? She refuses and I can't see it."

Callie looked at the neat writing. "I could, but I have to work with her."

"Come on! Please? I need to know. And I'm gonna fall off the bed if I keep trying to see it."

"You won't go far. You're in *traction*."

"I called Freedom Ridge to come and get you. In essence, I saved your life. So, what does it say?"

"You learned to fight dirty while I was away." She tapped his cast. "And I happen to be immune. And pregnant, so don't try to blackmail me."

"You're pregnant!" He beamed at her when she nodded. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks." She put a hand on her belly. "I can't say it enough ... life is good. How are you feeling?"

"I feel better than I have in years." He looked out the window, sighing with contentment. "So, you think I can walk again?"

Callie opened her purse and pulled out a stack of papers. "The owner of Freedom Ridge has a brother who lost his leg after a car accident. He was told that he would never walk again and the doctor was wrong. Her brother designed a prosthetic limb for himself that he's trying to market. His injuries were very similar to yours and I think with enough hard work and with him fitting you to compensate for the weakness in your remaining leg ... that you're not gonna walk, Finn, you're gonna run."

He took the stack of paper she held out and gazed down at the top sheet. It showed a man running in training shorts. One leg was muscular and lithe, the other was almost robotic looking. It was nothing like a run of the mill prosthesis. "Dude."

"It looks a little bizarre, but-"

"Are you kidding? That's cool as hell! I could so be a Transformer with that thing!"

"Well, Merry Christmas. If you do decide you want it ... it's free. It's one of the perks of being the second guinea pig for it."

"You think it'll work?"

"I think we'd be fools not to try."

"Fair enough." Finn continued to look at the photo. "You know ... Finn is a nice name for a boy."

"I'm leaning toward Optimus Prime."

"That works, too." He studied her face. "You still look a little green around the gills and skinny and not quite like yourself, but you also look healed."

"I am."

"I'm glad."

******

"Why is Callie so pale?" Cristina leaned back in her seat, staring at her friend as she paused to greet one of the nurses in the cafeteria. "She's cappuccino instead of hot chocolate."

"What is it with you and food references today?" Izzie asked, sipping her Sprite. "You called me 'banana cream pie'."

"No, I said that would be your porn name. Which George assures me is fairly accurate. Will you please let the little rug rat sleep?"

Meredith choked on her salad. "Isobel Stevens! You are *not* sleeping with George again! Are you?"

"NO!" Izzie wrinkled her nose. "Ew."

Cristina rolled her eyes and pointed at Izzie. "Look at her, Mer, she's been walking around the hospital like she's been riding a big stallion and is saddle sore. You don't get saddle sore riding a Shetland Pony."

"Oooh," George said, setting his tray on the table. "I love ponies! Who has one?"

All the women looked at each other and burst out laughing. George, thinking he was a comedian now, happily dug into his food. "So," Meredith said to Izzie. "You and Eros are okay, then?"

"Apparently," George interjected. "The acoustics at our place made me feel like I was front row center at an opera. I mean .... who makes those noises?"

Callie, who had heard enough of the conversation to chime in, pulled out a seat and smiled at her ex-husband. "Sleep with Eros and see what you sound like."

George gagged on his hot dog. With his mouth full, he said, "No thanks."

Izzie leaned over and gave Callie a hug. "Hi, you."

"Hey, how was Greece?"

Izzie sat back and laughed. "Two words. Glass. Balcony."

"Two words," Callie replied. "Ass. Tracks."

"Oh my god! I was on my hands and knees scrubbing with Windex for an hour!" Izzie turned pink. "And Willa caught me. I almost died."

"Been there. Done that." Callie chuckled. "Only she didn't know that I had slept with Eros."

"MY EARS!" George cried, clapping his hands over them. "Stop talking!"

Izzie ignored him and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she spoke to Callie in a low voice. "Dude, if Eros was the first guy I ever slept with ... I probably would have turned gay. That is just way too ... much ... for a virgin."

Callie nodded in agreement. "I honestly thought I was going to die."

"I can only imagine." Izzie shuddered.

Cristina pointed at George. "Cal? You did go gay from it."

He flipped her a bird and looked at Callie. "How is everything?"

"Perfect," she replied, breathing through her mouth and not her nose because the smell of Izzie's pizza was killing her.

"Apparently your fake bronzer wore off," Cristina said. "You have no color."

Callie simply grinned at her, then got to her feet when Alex came in. He spotted her immediately and she met him halfway. He held her at arms length when she tried to hug him. "My mother called and said that you were sick. What’s wrong?"

"It was something I ate," she told him, kissing his cheek. "It passed."

"You want to go to the clinic?" He touched her head, then studied her face. "You don't look right."

"No, Jock Strap, I don't want to go to the clinic. Why don't you go find something to eat and then introduce me to McKenna?"

He narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening. "You know what? This is where I gently remind you that you promised me that you're going to take better care of yourself so-"

"And I am, Alex," she replied with a sigh. "Just ... don't."

"Then just ... eat."

The mere thought of it was enough to make her sweat and when Derek walked past her carrying a hot dog heaped with chili, slaw, and cheese ... she cupped a hand over her mouth and fled. She charged into the bathroom and found the first stall empty just in time. She vomited up the tea she had sipped earlier and groaned. It took a second for her to realize that someone in the next stall was in the same predicament. When that someone whimpered, Callie smiled. "Addison?"

"Callie!?"

They both flushed and emerged at the same time. "Awww," Addy said, hugging her. "You look like a big old pile of pregnant shit."

"You look like a slapped ass. And you wished this on me."

"True."

Beside each other at the sink, they washed their faces and rinsed their mouths, then gazed at their reflections. Addy pushed her hair back and looked at her skin. "These brats have to be girls. They're stealing my pretty."

"That's also true."

"Shut up, hooker."

"I prefer 'skanky mistress of the night'." Callie rubbed her belly and stood on her toes to see her waist in the mirror. "I hope I get so fat that this is a ten pound baby."

Addison raised a brow. "Then even a good wax job won't make your cooter look nice."

"I will likely be too tired to remember that I have one."

"Alex won't forget."

"He's insatiable."

"And you're not, skank?"

"You have a point." Callie pulled her hair over her shoulders and pinched her cheeks to add some much needed color. "I'm still pretty, though."

"I guess I can give you that."

Miranda Bailey walking into the room carrying a thermometer, a shot, and a washcloth. She looked at Addison and smiled, "I can't help you, but I can help this one." To Callie, she added, "Welcome home. Your husband has decided that if you won't come to the clinic then the clinic can come to you."

Callie laughed, holding up her hands. "You can't help me either. I'm in the same boat as Addison."

Miranda's mouth fell open. Her eyes moved to Callie's stomach and she grinned. "And you haven't told him!?"

"I'm telling him for Christmas."

Miranda hugged her. "Congratulations. And ... the morning sickness doesn't last long."

"I call bullshit," Addy replied. "I'm nearly dead from it."

They chatted for close to ten minutes and when the women emerged, Alex was standing in the hallway dressed in his street clothes with his hands in his pockets. Callie looked at him in confusion. "You're supposed to be in surgery in fifteen minutes."

"I took the rest of the day off."

"But - this is a huge reconstruction. Mark said that it's a once in a lifetime opportunity and -"

"So is taking care of you."

"Awwww," Addison moved past Callie and hugged him. "I love you."

"He's not gonna do you, either." Callie met her husband's eye as he patted Addy on the back. In less than twenty four hours ... his life would change for the better and she couldn't wait to tell him that he was not only going to be a father ... he was going to be the best damn dad in the world.

*****

Derek watched McKenna push her dinner around on her Sesame Street plate. She had cried so much for her mother earlier that Derek had calmed her with sedation. It was more for his benefit than hers. Watching her break was going to make him break and he couldn't do that in front of his co-workers. Seattle Grace was a teaching hospital and he was very, very close to teaching his interns that crossing the line with a patient was perfectly acceptable. He knew that people were already whispering about his over involvement with McKenna's case. Just that morning, Mark had made a wisecrack about Derek's focus as a newlywed.

Newlywed.

He tore his gaze away from McKenna to look at the gold band on his hand. Meredith had chosen well. The surprise wedding at the restaurant had been the complete opposite of his big ceremony with Addison and it was wrong to compare the two, but as far as he was concerned ... the exchange with Meredith was better. Smaller, yes, but perfect in every way. He wouldn't have changed a thing ... except maybe inviting Thatcher. Meredith had selective hearing when he attempted to speak to her about her father. He would have invited his own parents as well. And his sisters. They would take turns killing him when he told them he was married again.

"Derek?"

"Yes, McKenna?" He looked at her again. She still hadn't eaten anything.

Big tears rolled down her cheeks. "How will Santa find me?"

He set aside the crossword puzzle that lay opened, but untouched in his lap and stood beside her bed. "Rudolph ... he has a GPS in his nose."

"What's that?"

"Uh ... Good Person Seeker. He can find all the good girls and boys with it."

"Oh."

"You're not hungry?"

McKenna shook her head. "Meredith gave me McDonalds. She cooked it her own self and its better than yours."

Derek smiled at her. "I didn't cook this."

"Good." She continued to push around her chicken casserole. "I talked to Santa at the mall one time."

"You did?"

"Uh huh. I sat in his lap and he asked me what I wanted. I wanted a Build A Bear with roller skates and a bicycle with a pink horn."

Derek scratched his chin. He had gotten everything but that for her. "He can find you. I promise."

"But can he know that I changed my mind? I don't want a bike or a bear no more."

"No?"

McKenna's bottom lip trembled. "Can he bring me my mom now? I been waiting a real long time."

Derek pulled the rolling table away from the bed, disconnected her IV and picked her up. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, her face against his neck as she cried. With one hand, Derek supported her weight and with the other, he gathered her blanket and wrapped if over her back. Then he simply held onto her. After a little while, she leaned back and said, "Where did she go?"

Derek touched her cheek. "Heaven."

"Where is that?"

How do you explain a concept that you don't understand yourself, he wondered. He could tell her how the brain worked and how to crack open a skull. He could walk her through neurology and the all the nerves in her head. ... but he couldn't tell her why the same teenager who had thrown her from a moving car had also killed her mother. And he couldn't explain death.

He walked into the hallway with her and grabbed another blanket from a nearby cart, adding that one over her shoulders as well, ignoring the curious glances from the nurse's station as he strode toward the elevator. She held firm to his neck as they rode to the lobby and then headed outside. He said a silent prayer of thanks that there were a few stars in the sky and pointed up at them. "See that?"

"What?"

"The stars."

"Yeah." She giggled and lifted her face as a snowflake fell against her nose.

"That's Heaven. And stars are really angels and they watch us all the time." He pulled the cover a little tighter when she shivered. "Your Mom is up there now. She's an angel. And you won't ever see her again, but you never have to forget her either."

"She's up in the sky?" The little girls big green eyes were round in her face as she watched Derek to see if he would change his mind. When he nodded she looked up again. "Look! There she is right there!"

Derek looked up, watching an airplane fly toward the airport. "Yep. That's her."

"HI. MOMMY!!" McKenna crowed happily, wrenching her broken arm from under the cover to wave. "HI!! HI!!!!"

She continued to call out until the plane had vanished from sight, then she laid her head against his shoulder again. "Santa *did* bring her!"

Meredith stood just out of sight.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

McKenna was actually right.

******

Callie was lying on her back, her arms pillowing her head. Standing beside her, Melana was studying her belly and talking to herself as she dabbed her paintbrush into the red paint and added a cute red bow to the mural on Callie's stomach. She rinsed the brush, dipped into the green ink and added a few more pine needles to the wreath that circled her daughter's abdomen. Inside that wreath was a stork carrying a blanket and two chubby little baby feet stuck out the end. 'Merry Christmas, Daddy' had been written in bold, black letters and Mel smiled as she turned a small fan on and pointed it at the art.

"Ahh! It's freezing, Mom!"

"Do you want it to last or not?"

"Yes."

"Okay then." Melana rinsed the brush again and smiled at her. "It was nearly impossible to get rid of your husband tonight. I had to force him to go with Raph."

"You didn't tell Daddy that I'm pregnant did you?"

"No, honey," Melana replied. "I told him that you needed some Ipenemol."

"What the hell is that?"

"Precisely. It doesn't exist and your father will drive all over this state looking for it before he decides to call me and ask what he can buy in its place."

"What will you tell him?"

"Pepto Bismol."

"You're evil." Callie pushed herself to her elbows and smiled as she gazed down at her belly. "It's so pretty! Maybe I should get this tattooed on me."

"Calliope, so help me God, if you set one toe in another tattoo parlor ... even if it's just to look ... I will absolutely flay the skin off you." Melana poked her hip, where the yellow rose tattoo was. "I don't care how cute it is."

"Ugh! You think it's cute? Not hardcore?"

"You aren't as hardcore as you think."

The phone rang and Mel grabbed it, smiling at Callie as she said, "It’s a Merry Christmas at Casa Karev ... what do you want?"

"Mel," Alex said, his tone clipped. "Look, your husband refuses to believe me when I tell him that Ipenemol doesn't exist. I even showed him in a drug book at the pharmacy. It's Christmas Eve and my wife doesn't feel good so I need to be with her. Can you please tell him what you want in English so we can come home?"

Melana reached down and trailed a finger over the stomach art. It was dry. "Certainly. Tell him to bring home some Pepto Bismol."

"You are KIDDING me!"

Melana chuckled and hung up the phone while her son in law was in mid-rant. "You're dry, mi vida. Let's get you dressed."

Callie's eyes widened when she saw the plaid panties and bra her mother produced. "You are not supposed to know about the existence of Christmas lingerie. Much less buy it for me. That is just creepy and wrong."

"I told you to leave this up to me." Melana clicked her tongue and reached into the bag again. From the depths she produced white satin gloves and white thigh highs with bows that matched the plaid. "Perhaps you wanted to show him your stomach after lifting one of your oversized t-shirts? I don't think so. Art has to be framed and you, my darling, are the prettiest thing I've ever painted."

Callie grinned when she took the lingerie, kissed her mother on the cheek, then watched as Melana began lighting candles all around the bedroom. Every surface was covered with red and green Christmas pillars in varying sizes. The bedding had been replaced with deep green satin and the fireplace that took up nearly one entire wall was crackling with warmth. It really was romantic, Callie thought, as she hurried into the bathroom to change.

Fifteen minutes later, Callie emerged and opened the closet door to get a better view of herself. She had to hand it to her mother ... she had great taste. The bra pushed her breasts up and out and had long pieces down the side that connected to the garters. The reds and greens matched the wreath on her belly and she grinned, gazing at the stork. The thong panties were barely there in the back and she turned, eyeing her body. She could not wait to start showing.

Melana probably knew all about pregnancy lingerie, too.

********

Burke ran a hand over Cristina's bare back. She was dozing naked in front of the roaring fireplace and he was equally naked beside her. Because he had gone out of his way to honor her Jewish faith ... she had repaid him by decorating a small, decrepit tree for him. It was hideous. The decorations were even worse, but that didn't matter. She had decorated it wearing nothing but a red bow around her waist while she danced, very dirty, to Christmas music. He would never listen to 'The Chipmunk's Christmas' again without a raging hard on.

He wound a lock of her soft, curly hair around his finger and grinned. Less than an hour before ... that same hair had been wrapped around his fist as he slammed into her from behind. Licking his lips, he replayed it in his head. He had tackled her as she gyrated back and forth in front of the tree, trying to keep rhythm as she opened the box that the star had come in. It was tacky and still had the sticker on it from the ninety nine cent store, but when she turned, wiggling her hips like a Hula dancer in need of a stripper pole, he shot to his feet and tackled her.

The star became a distant memory and a shattered mess as she tossed it across the room. His hands covered every inch of her, caressing, rubbing, seeking and when he had his fill, he tasted her. The sounds she made were intoxicating and he didn't stop until she begged him to. And there, in front of the raging fire, he made love to her.

Presently, she stretched and the rounded globes of her backside rose into the air. He slid his hand down and cupped one. "Your breathing would suggest that you are fully awake and your body language would suggest that you are fully aroused."

"You're not *that* good." She yawned, then yelped and rolled to face him when he slapped her ass.

"Sleep is overrated."

She straddled his hips and kissed his chest. "Preston?"

"Hmm?" He watched her reach between them and stroke his flesh until it was tall and proud. He licked his lips when she lowered herself on him. "Oh ... God."

The overhead light came on suddenly and Cristina shrieked, looking over her shoulder at her mother in law. Jane Burke was holding her purse in front of her husband's face to keep him from seeing the debauchery. With her eyes on the ceiling, she said, "Surely you have a better reason than this for not picking us up at the airport two hours ago."

"I made a tree," Cristina stated solemnly, her hands over her breasts.. "For Christmas."

Jane shook her head, picking up her suitcase. "Well, we will hopefully see less of you in the morning. Goodnight."

Burke closed his eyes and listened to his parents climb the stairs to the guest room. "By the way, my parents are spending the holiday with us.

Cristina was mortified all the way to the bottom of her feet. She was humiliated enough to curdle her insides and send her scurrying as fast as she could. She didn't move. Instead, she gazed down at her husband, at the firm set of his handsome jaw, at the worry line on his forehead, and when he sighed from apparent frustration, she rolled her hips in a circle. "Think they brought earplugs?"

"Wha-huh?"

He had lost his hard on. She planted a kiss on his lips and let him slip from her, then moved down his body, kissing a path to his cock that made HER toes curl so she imagined that his would never be the same. Just before she slid her mouth over him, she grinned at him. "I'm gonna make you scream. That ought to pay her back."

He threw his head back and laughed.

And Preston Burke *did* scream.

********
Alex could not have been in a worse mood when he walked in the front door of his house. Melana had taken the Pepto Bismol from his hand, patted his cheek, and then insisted that Raphael follow her to the yacht right then to help her check on the turkey. She was cooking in both kitchens, she told Alex, and all four of her sons (she no longer wanted Blake dead) would be sleeping on the yacht. Alex assumed that the Torres clan had cleared out because of Callie's stomach virus, but he couldn't help but feel relieved at having his house back. He had not had any privacy with Callie since October, when Addison had gotten married and Callie had been attacked. Hell, even before that because they had been separated over the air show. He thought about that attack as he hung his coat up. Seeing Callie fall apart during her exam had been a stark reminder of it. He had not been naïve enough to hope that she had forgotten about it, but he had been foolish enough to think that it had gotten easier for her.

He stopped in the kitchen for a bottle of water and several Tylenol. Raphael had seized every moment during their road trip to make it clear that Alex needed to take care of Callie a lot better than he had before she left for rehab. His father in law had not been unkind, but he also didn't sugar coat the fact that their marriage had been an absolute horror for months. It was enough to frazzle Alex's nerves worse than they already were. After losing two patients at work, finding out that Callie was sick at lunch, and then coming home and listening to her father diagnose her liver, her pancreas, and everything else under the sun was just. too. much.

The patient he had lost that morning had died of liver failure.

She was only forty one.

He took the Tylenol and massaged his head. Callie had not gotten sick again once they left the hospital, but he had been hovering enough to check her skin coloring, compress her abdomen, and feel for fever. The liver damage Callie sustained was minor, but anything minor could become major at the drop of a hat. He finished the bottle of water and decided to check on her again. If she was sleeping ... he would be glad to turn in as well.

He frowned when he saw the flickering of light under the door. Callie must have gotten cold and built a fire. Slowly pushing it open, he gasped. He was vaguely aware that there were candles all over the place, but all he saw was her, or more specifically, her backside as she stood facing the fireplace. He licked his lips as he glanced down at her thighs, where her dark skin seemed almost mocha against the white of the stockings she wore.

It took a moment, but he realized that this was the same way she had stood the night in Greece when she asked him to make love to her. He had been terrified to touch her, afraid that it would be too much after the attempted rape, but she had walked into the bedroom, faced the fireplace, and dropped her robe. And now, she looked over her shoulder the same way she had done that night as well. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming home tonight."

"Jesus, Callie, what -"

"Stay right there." She met his eye and smiled at him. "I got you something for Christmas that I think you're gonna like it."

"I already like it and asking me to stand over here is not cool."

"Don't move." She looked back down at the fire. "I thought long and hard about how to give this to you and really ... the only thing that made sense was a nice visual."

"Oh, it's nice. It's very, very nice, Gothika." He swallowed hard, his eyes on the black tribal tattoo on her lower back. Damn, he loved that ugly bird. "Are you feeling better?"

"I feel perfectly fine. Wonderful, even." She turned then and held her breath. She watched his eyes move from her breasts to her belly and waited.

"No! NO!" he cried, eyes wide and clearly outraged a moment later. "You have GOT to be kidding me! Damn it, Callie!"

She shook her head, stunned. "I'm not kidding."

"Well, get rid of it."

"What?!" Shell shocked and queasy now, she sat down on the bench at the foot of their bed. "You actually just said that. Out loud. To me."

"You're prettier without it."

"You always said that you wanted me to gain weight."

"What does that have to do with another fucking tattoo!? It's huge! And I can tell that it's ugly and I don't like it!" He put his hands on his hips. "I already thanked your dad for getting rid of that belly button thing and now you did this? What the hell is it anyway?"

Callie was so relieved that she burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.

Alex felt like an asshole. She had obviously gotten whatever it was for *him*. He flipped the overhead light on and kneeled in front of her. "I'm sorry. I've had a bad day and ... well, let me see it. I'm sure it's not that bad. I mean ... I'll get used to it ... and ... I'm sorry, baby. Will you ... stop with the ink? It's just ... too much. Okay?"

She let him kiss her head and nodded. "Okay."

He eased back. "Lemme see it. Stand up."

"I think maybe the moment is gone, Alex. Let's just ... go to bed and I can show you tomorrow."

"No. Come on now. Don't be like that. Let me look at it and then I'll clean it. You should still have it covered, actually." He made a face. "How were you planning to have sex with me after putting a basketball sized tattoo on your stomach? You wouldn't let me touch you after you got the one on your hip."

"What makes you think I was going to have sex with you?"

"You didn't dress like this for the hell of it. Now show me."

Callie slowly got to her feet, her heart slamming in her chest. She had not been nervous at all earlier, but now she was terrified. He was still kneeling in front of her and she watched his face. It went from annoyed, to confused, to stunned ... and then ... then he looked up at her, his eyes wide. She smiled through the tears that had started again.

He looked back at her stomach then reached up and touched it, his fingers lightly stroking her skin. A second later, he leaned his forehead against it, his hands on her hips. They stayed that way as long as she could stand it. "Alex, say something."

"How do you do it?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. "How?"

"How do I do what?"

He lifted his head and his teary eyes found hers. "Make me fall in love with you again every single day. You do. You just ... do."

She touched his cheek. "Well, for what's it worth ... you just made me hate you, but I'm over it."

"How did -"

"'Get rid of it'," she repeated his words. "I almost fainted."

"Oh, God!" He got to his feet and hugged her, kissing her shoulder. "I would never say that."

"I think my heart stopped for a minute." She bit her bottom lip. "And do not tell my mother you thought it was ugly or-"

"It's beautiful." He slid the back of his fingers along her belly. "How far along are we? Did you pee on a stick or ... how did you find out?"

"Addison did bloodwork when I was there for my exam. She did a comp panel and there he was. I made her do a sonogram, too, and ... he looks like a bean. Let’s hope he grows out of that."

Alex's face fell. "You've known for over a week and you didn't tell me?"

"I wanted to surprise you for Christmas." She grinned, resting her palm on his cheek. "Are you happy?"

He replied by kissing her until he was breathless and she had to push him away. Smirking, he reached between her breasts and unfastened her bra. It sprang apart and freed her breasts, which he immediately covered with his hands. He tilted his head to one side, watching as her nipples hardened and fascination mingled with the lust he felt. In a few months, he would watch his child nurse at those breasts and in his mind’s eye, he could see it vividly. His heart swelled with pride and anticipation. "I am so happy, baby. You’ve already given me the world ... it makes sense that we fill it."

Callie watched as he let his tongue swirl over the tip of one breast, then the other. She was breathing hard by the time he pushed the straps of her bra over her shoulder and let it fall behind her. He licked a path up to her neck and down her arm, where he kissed every inch of her arm as he slipped her glove off. He repeated the process on her other arm and then kneeled down again. She had not bothered with heels and she was glad because when he unfastened the garter on her left leg with his tongue ... she wobbled on the spot and clutched the tall post on the footboard of the bed. He looked up with concern, but she smiled at him. "Don’t you dare stop, Jock Strap, I’m well on my way to being seduced."

"You mean you’re not already? I better try harder." Alex had every intention of slowly peeling her stockings off and possibly tying her wrists to the bed with them since he hadn’t done that in a while, but his eyes fell on her stomach again, distracting him. When she had been hospitalized from the ascites and her stomach had been distended ... she had looked pregnant then. He frowned now, remembering the way she had clutched at her belly and cried from the pain. "We should see a specialist. Someone who has experience with liver damage and pregnancy. Addison is not that person."

"My bloodwork was fine." She reached down and unhooked the other garter herself. "And we’ll do whatever you want ... but right now ... I *need* you."

He slid one stocking off, then the other.

He didn’t tie her down, but he did take his time.

A while later, he rubbed her stomach and listened to her deep, even breathing as she slept next to him. He had loved her slowly and completely until finally begged him for release, then sleep, in that order.

He could not sleep, however.

His nerves were too mangled.



*~*~*~*~

Melana let herself into Callie’s house and walked to the kitchen, stifling a yawn with her hand. It was nearly seven thirty on Christmas morning and she had a million things to do to prepare their dinner. She flipped on the kitchen light and frowned when she saw Alex sitting at the island with his head in his hands. He was shirtless and she could see the muscles in his back rippling as he softly cried. Stunned, she put down the cans of cranberry sauce she had carried up from the yacht and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Honey?"

Alex jumped, self consciously wiping his face. He chuckled nervously and said, "I - I was just checking the, uh, ham."

"It’s not in the oven yet." Melana watched him closely. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy and his hands shook as he picked up his coffee cup and sipped it "Callie told you?"

"Yeah, yeah, it’s amazing. I’m really - I’m really excited. I’m -" Meeting her eyes, he trailed off and his face fell. "- absolutely terrified. She’s not well. She’s too thin and her body is going to go through a ton of changes and I don’t know if it can handle it. She’s done a lot of damage to herself, Mel, and - I could lose her."

Melana pulled out the stool beside him and sat down. "That’s very true."

He made a face. "Thanks for the reassurance."

"I’m not the person to lie to you. I know what she’s done to herself and what’s at stake. I’m just as scared as you are." She put a hand over his. "But I also believe with all that I am that God doesn’t give us more than we can bear. I couldn’t bear to lose my child and I have all the faith in the world that God knows that."

"I’m talking about medicine. I’m not talking about God."

Melana turned and stared at him until she was convinced that he was thinking of cowering in his seat. "What would medicine say about the spring at Talking Rock?"

"What would God say about it?"

"Don’t answer a question with a question, Alex, it’s impertinent. And I’m going to be a grandmother which means I’m automatically the go to person for this baby when you tell him no. I can make life very hard on you. So ... answer me."

He smirked at her playfully. "Medicine would say that Talking Rock can’t possibly exist. Is that what you want me to say?"

"Yes, it is. Thank you for walking into my web so willingly." She winked at him. "Medicine would say that it’s impossible for that spring to cure what ails you. Medicine would say that the burns Callie sustained on that island as a child should have killed her ... or at the very least scarred her for life. And-"

"It did," Alex replied. "She’s scarred. Inside and out."

"The point that I’m making, motor mouth, is that there are things in this world that can only be explained by an act of God."

"So ... you’re saying that God made the spring heal people ... and kill people?"

That took her off guard. "What did I tell you about asking questions?"

"What is your point?"

"My point is ... Callie has been through Hell. You have been through Hell. It’s time for a reprieve and I’m *convinced* that you’ll get it."

"Well, I’m hoping you’re right, Mel, because -"

"When are you going to stop calling me Mel? I think you should call me Mom. And mother knows best." She nudged him with her shoulder. "Deal?"

"Really?"

"Really." Mel got to her feet and walked around the island, refilling his coffee cup and grabbing one for herself. She chuckled when she heard someone running and that same someone retching. "Morning sickness. It’s an evil, evil thing."

Alex took one sip of the coffee and got to his feet. "I’ll take care of her."

"It looks like you already did." Glancing down at his stomach, she smiled. "Did you say that you liked the art?"

"Definitely."

"Then why did you make a mess of it? I’m fairly certain she wanted to show her father."

"What do you -" Alex looked down at himself suddenly and felt the blood rush to his head. "Oh my god."

Melana watched him hurry from the room and chuckled to herself.

She couldn’t wait to see her husband’s reaction to the news that his baby was having a baby.

Something told her Alex’s Christmas was going to be quite memorable.

*~*~*~*~*~

Derek woke Meredith with mistletoe over her head and a long, slow kiss on her lips. She smiled at him and stretched, working on the many kinks in her body. A glance at the clock had her raising a brow. It was only eight and they had been celebrating Christmas Eve until it rapidly became four thirty on Christmas morning. She giggled when he kissed her belly and trailed the mistletoe over her exposed chest. "Pervert."

"You’re the one who’s naked."

"Which is truly unfair, in my humble opinion." Reaching for his robe, she made a face when he pushed her hand away. "Truly, truly unfair."

"You don’t want to open presents?"

Sitting up, she rested her hands on his shoulders. "I have everything I want right here."

That wasn’t totally true, she thought, but he didn’t have to know that just yet. She gave him another kiss and decided to play along with the opening of presents even though it was a tradition she had never really understood ... or partaken in. Ellis Gray always said that the best surgeries happened during the holidays which meant that family took its usual backburner and Thatcher had refused to buy in to ‘bastardized’ holidays. Meredith was lucky if she got a birthday card growing up and even then ... it was usually something scribbled on a dry erase board that wished her a prosperous day. That was the ONLY day that the dry erase board didn’t contain a to-do list of some kind. Her one reprieve from household chores and studying, but she usually marked the passing of each year with her nose in a book trying not to think about being alone.

She let him pull her from the bed and dressed in her robe. The fact that they matched was nauseatingly cute and a gag gift from Cristina, but she loved it. Living the cliché was a lot more fun that she thought. Her palms began to sweat as she sat down in front of the tree and let her husband shower her with gifts. Sweaters, jewelry, books, and electronics. All of it had been hand picked by him and she loved every last bit of it. He seemed to like the fishing supplies and absolutely fawned over the tackle box she had found on Ebay. When all was said and done and he voiced his intention of making love to her on the ripped up paper ... she pointed at the tree and said, "Looks like you missed one."

On the low branches of the tree was an envelope. Derek glanced at it curiously. "What’s that?"

"Well, I’m not in Santa’s head ... so open it."

He grinned at her and grabbed it, tearing it open. Meredith held her breath, afraid that he had ripped the papers inside. She was still holding her breath when he pulled out the surprise inside. She watched as he read over it and then her eyes filled with tears because his did. "Derek-"

"This means -"

"We’ll have to take the foster parent classes before we can do anything, but we can get her. It’s called Respite-Care and she won’t be shuffled around from house to house while she waits for someone to take her. We can take care of her until she’s finally declared a ward of the state and when that happens ... we can petition to adopt. Raphael hired a private investigator to look into her background and make sure there are no relatives and -"

"Are you serious? You - you want this?"

"I want this." She smiled at him. "Do you have any idea how much time we’ve wasted? You wanted me ... I ran. I wanted you ... you ran back to Addison. Then it was on and off for so long that I nearly died ... literally. I’m ready for more. I’m ready for so much more and she needs us. It’s a huge step, Derek, I know that, but it’s a step that we can take together."

He reached up and touched her cheek, cupping it as he gazed into her eyes. "I couldn’t love you more if I had to."

Meredith watched him read over the papers again. She had never really had a mother to learn from, not really. Ellis loved medicine, Richard Webber, herself, status, and independence. In that order. Her daughter didn’t register on her radar most of the time. The only time there was a blip was when Meredith’s grades slipped or she was less than what Ellis expected. She wasn’t a loving, gentle woman. She didn’t believe in bedtime stories, Halloween, or Christmas. She didn’t believe in hugging, kissing, building forts out of sheets or hide and go seek. She didn’t braid hair, paint nails, rub noses or play games. Through her ... Meredith had learned what *not* to be. And that should count for something.

It was a huge, terrifying undertaking.

But it was better to be terrified than go through life wishing you’d had the courage to follow your heart.

Meredith had followed hers into Derek’s arms.

And their combined hearts were leading them toward McKenna.

In a world that was anything but natural ... this was.

"Merry Christmas," she said softly, grateful that she had someone to say it to. Grateful that she had someone who could teach her about traditions she had never known.

When he lowered her onto the shredded paper and pulled the tie on her robe ... she hoped that McKenna would sleep late the following Christmas ... because this could possibly be the best tradition of them all.

******
Callie was waiting for the perfect opportunity to announce her pregnancy to her family. It had already been an emotional morning that came complete with a tearful apology from Cambyses after he opened the picture of the two of them that she had found at Bounty’s Keep. They were eight years old and walking toward the orchard with their backs to the camera, hand in hand. She had framed it herself at Freedom Ridge, wielding the nail gun with all the precision she possessed. She was building up her nerve, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth when Cambyses cleared his throat and said, "Dad, consider this a gift from me *and* Callie ... although she didn’t know a thing about it."

"Oh god." Callie shot her twin a warning look. "Something tells me I want no part of it."

"Something tells me you do," Blake assured her with a smile. He leaned forward with a disposable camera, ready to capture Raphael’s reaction.

Everyone stopped opening their own packages, clearly curious. Callie held out her wrist so that Alex could fasten the bracelet her mother had given her. Melana wasn’t lying about spending a ton of money. "Go ahead, Dad, but if you hate it ... blame him."

Raphael winked at her and tore into the large box. It had been sealed haphazardly with tape and the box was dented on one end. He chuckled and said, "What did you do to it, son?"

Cam made a face. "Don’t ask."

Peeling off the tape, Raphael opened the box and froze. The color left his face, his eyes widened, his mouth hung open and the only sound that could escape him was a slow, mournful cry of shock.

"CAM!" Callie shot to her feet and hurried across the room, reaching for the package. "What did you do?"

"NO!" Raphael caught her hand. "MOVE AWAY."

"What-"

"MOVE AWAY!"

Alex’s first thought was ‘bomb’ and he grabbed her, pulling her behind him. "What the hell is going on?"

"WHERE DID YOU GET IT!?" Raphael bellowed at Cambyses. "DID YOU GO TO TALKING ROCK!? DID YOU? DID YOU DESTROY THE PRAYING HANDS?"

Stunned, Cam nodded.

Raphael put a hand over his face. "NOW you know WHY I didn’t let you help me, son! You do not THINK before you ACT!" He crossed himself before he bent down and eased the glass container from the jar, holding it up to the light. "Hail Mary, full of Grace ..."

"Oh. My. God." Callie peered at the cylinder over Alex’s shoulder. "Is that it? Is that the Rose of Jericho? The real one? Dad? DAD!?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes, mija, it is."

"But - wh- how did you know - YOU KNEW WHERE IT WAS!?" she shouted, nostrils flaring as she moved past Alex. "HOW!?"

Taking a deep breath, Raphael met her eyes. He looked from her to each of her brothers and finally ... his gaze rested on Melana. Her face was impassive and he could tell that she was braced for whatever was coming. He felt the weight of it, the weight of what he would have to admit and the joy of a happy, whole family slowly becoming a distant memory. Some secrets had to be shared and others ... others should remain pressed beneath the holders lips on his deathbed ... a thought, but never a confession. He looked at Callie again ... she alone would feel it more than anyone else and for that ... for that he wanted to die. He looked back down at the Rose in his hands as if it could answer his prayer and disappear from his life for good.

It didn’t.

Clearing his throat, Raph said, "I knew where it was because I put it there."

"You put it there?" Callie asked, her voice soft. "What does that mean?"

Raph’s eyes filled with tears. His daughter alone deserved the explanation. She had risked her life for years. For a lie. "Your grandfather showed it to me when I first went to Greece to help protect his family. He said that it was invaluable. That it was priceless. That it was worth more money than I could see in a lifetime. I was poor. I was dirt poor and the picture he painted was beautiful. I stole it the same way I stole oranges from his orchard. The same way I stole his daughter when he wasn’t looking. I sold it and he was right ... I was richer than a man should be. The day I handed it over to the buyers is the day that I married your mother and the sale went wrong. They came in, guns blazing, and tried to kill me. They did kill your grandfather and they still took the Rose." He didn’t brush away the tears on his face. "When that island nearly killed you in the fire ... I knew that I had to get it back. I knew that it was my punishment for selling it, for reaping the rewards. I’m a rich man. We’re a rich family because of what I did ... we could never want for material things ... but I had to get it back and that, Callie, is why we searched and why we investigated. I had to undo what I had done with my greed. I eventually found it again and I tried to put it back into the heart of the island, but the tunnels caved and thirteen people died. I drilled out the praying hands and I put it there instead."

No one said a word.

A pin could have dropped and sounded louder than a sonic boom.

What dropped, however, was Callie.

She fainted dead away.
Ch 32
Water.

All around her there was water and Callie was underneath it, swimming in the warmth. She let her fingertips glide through reeds and blinked as a school of fish enveloped her, their scaly bodies rubbing against her. She smiled, tasting the salt and the freedom as she floated peacefully along. The sight of jellyfish didn't scare her like it should have, but she still changed direction, going against the current. Coral was everywhere now and she fleetingly wondered how she was breathing and patted her face to check for scuba gear, but all she encountered was her smile. It was strange, but not jarring.

A bright light eventually caught her attention and she swam toward it, slicing the water with her hands the same way she had sliced through the ocean off Miami. But this didn't feel like the ocean and as the light grew larger ... the calm she felt was chased away, leaving a panicked sense of uncertainty in its wake. No attempt at turning back was effective and she realized just before the light consumed her that she was no longer swimming ... she was being pulled. An invisible lasso was around her waist and she could swear she felt the rope biting into her.

Sand.

Gritty sand was beneath her bare feet, sticking between her toes and she gulped in air now, cool and clean. Her clothing was no longer wet, if you could call it that. The gauzy yellow material that pretended to cover her left nothing to the imagination and she self consciously shielded her breasts which were clearly enjoying the crisp air a little too much. She took a few tentative steps and when the earth didn't swallow her, she called out a 'Hello'. The echo that answered back sounded hollow and strange and she nearly buckled under the weight of the vibrations.

'Am I dead?' she thought.

"No, not dead."

Callie whirled to look for the woman who had spoken. The voice had wrapped around her, into her, and she had the distinct impression that the owner of that voice would be beautiful. "Hello?"

"Your heart races so. I had forgotten what beautiful rhythm it keeps. Many a song has been written to the heart, for the heart. And to the beat of it. It's quite lovely, yes?"

"I can't see you."

"Do you want to see me?"

"Er - yes?"

"Then turn and feast your eyes."

Callie was nervous, then. She turned slowly, cautiously, and her eyes did feast. The woman before he was breathtaking. Her long, black hair was so curly that it looked alive in the breeze and her wide, generous smile was calming, soothing in fact. Callie found herself smiling back and gazing into deep, blue eyes that could easily have been the ocean she had just swam in. The same fabric that covered Callie’s body also covered the woman’s curvy outline and the jewels on her fingers and wrists could have blinded in the sunlight. Luckily, they were standing under a full moon on a vast beach that stretched as far as the eye could see. When Callie spoke again, her voice echoed, though not with the same intensity as before. "Who are you?"

The woman’s head tilted and her smile broadened. "Surely you, of all people, do not need to ask me that."

Callie opened her mouth to speak, but a large fire silenced her. It spread from the left and roared across the beach, lapping at the air. She looked up to watch the smoke, gasping when she saw that the flames were reflected in the mirror like quality of the sky and a pentagram was blazing like an inferno. The heat licked at her skin, the smoke was cloying, and just as rapidly as it appeared, it was gone. Callie fell backward, landing on the sand. The woman laughed, a sweet tinkering sound that hung in the air. It struck a chord in Callie and she gasped. "Kalligenia."

"I answer to many names. That is just one. I have so much to show you. Let us look upon the Rose now and take the journey of her life with her."

The oversized moon came to rest in Kalligenia’s hands and she held it like a basketball, her features awash in shining light. Callie was drawn to the flickering of movement and tore her gaze away from the Being she had been named after to look at the glowing orb. It was like a crystal ball, she thought, gazing at the images that flashed before her. A man was rummaging through dirt, pulling at weeds until his hands closed around one that obviously met his criteria. He ripped it from the earth and stored it in a worn leather satchel, hurrying back through the vast desert that lay around him. Then a woman with black hair was holding the Rose and Callie gasped when she realized that it was Kalligenia herself and she was regarding it with reverence, handing it back to the man who had plucked so that she could bathe the heads of two children who were squeezed together on a pallet made of straw. Twins, Callie realized, a boy and a girl, both pale, both sweating, both crying from obvious pain. Both begging their Mama to make it better.

And then Kalligenia was on her knees, screaming and clawing at her face as those same children were taken from the dirt floored cottage wrapped head to toe in burial cloths.

As the children lay side by side in a tomb, Kalligenia entered and put the Rose between them, leaving a kiss on both of their heads. "Soon, my loves, soon you will return to me. Your Papa found the resurrection flower and you will be healed. The sickness will touch you no more. Come back to me now. Please ... come home."

And then Kalligenia was gasping and she fell forward, blood leaking from her mouth as she lay dead over her children.

Her husband had struck the fatal blow.

The Rose was snatched up by the him and he was running, running toward a group of men on horses. They took the Rose from his hand and tossed a bag full of jewels at him. The colored stones fell through his fingers as he smiled in triumph and then ... just as Kalligenia had done ... he fell forward, struck dead by one of the men and they laughed as they gathered the jewels and rode away, leaving him just as dead as his family. The look of shock on his face mirrored his dead wife’s.

Images moved fast now, almost too fast to keep up with. The Rose was taken to another tomb and placed beside another body and then that body was sitting up and wrenching away the shroud that had been laid over him. A flash of light and the Rose was on a merchant ship and there was death, sickness, as bodies were tossed into the rushing ocean. And Bounty’s Keep rose from the storm like a beacon against the topsy-turvy waves and the Rose was offered for food and shelter and a man that Callie recognized from paintings as her great, great grandfather was sitting at a desk studying the glass cylinder with a frown on his face.

And then ... then Callie saw her mother standing at the jagged mouth of the grotto feeding bread crumbs to the eels while Raphael watched her from a hidden crevice in the stone wall. She held her breath as his fingers absently rubbed the golden lid on the cylinder and his eyes filled with tears. Callie felt her own fill with tears because the look on her young father’s face, that look of reverence and adoration, had not changed in forty seven years of marriage. When Raphael handed the Rose over to an even younger Athena Niarchos and collected a briefcase ... the tears in Callie’s eyes fell in a steady stream down her cheeks. The scene shifted suddenly and Callie saw herself lying flat on her stomach while an explosion rattled the ground beneath her. She was a child and she trembled slightly as her father patted her down to check for injuries and then he left her and rushed toward the settling dust to accept a large box.

Inside it ... the Rose of Jericho was pristine and unscathed after the detonation.

Images flashed even faster. She watched her father painstakingly wrap the Rose and tuck it into a bag and then he was on Talking Rock, kneeling before the praying hands in obvious apology, his lips moving in prayer, or maybe sorrow, as the container sat on the sand before him.

Finally, she saw Cambyses burning at the altar and then smiling as he wrenched the Rose from the praying hands. There was no hunger in his face. No greed or malice. He looked relieved and happy. And now ... now anger flared inside Callie. If anyone had found the Rose ... it should have been her.

When the moon returned to its resting place in the sky, Callie was slack jawed, feeling sedated. "What happened to your children?"

"There was disease on the island. I had many powers, but I could not cheat death. I offered myself time and time again, but they never mended. Their fevers never broke."

"Your husband ... he ... killed you?"

"Greed is a sorrowful character trait. He was never good to our children. I do not know why I thought he ever could be."

Callie’s heart hurt. "You knew that they were dying and you sent him for the Rose?"

"I did. But thankfully ... my greed to have my children live again brought about my own death ... I couldn’t have lived without them."

"I’m sorry."

"It was not a coincidence that the Rose came back to my island," Kalligenia said softly. "It was meant to be. In the grand scheme of things, it was mine. It belonged to my children. It was taken away and it was never offered to me correctly, however."

"Correctly?"

The Being simply smiled and ignored the question that one word posed. "I’ve given special powers to the spring, hoping that someone would repay my kindness."

"You’ve also taken lives in retribution."

"No ... I’ve merely attempted to gain attention, to be heard, and nothing is louder than death. I should know. Although, the Gods visit the sins of the father upon the children. My husband ... he would be related to you."

"So, you cursed us all. You killed -"

"I never killed anyone. And until the Rose is given to me properly ... I cannot undo what the Gods put into place. It was anguish ... anguish that cursed the island. It was my blood that sowed it."

"How do I stop it?"

The secretive smile flashed again and Kalligenia shrugged ... a modern and strange thing for an ethereal being to do. "You ask many questions. I trust that you will ask your heart, that same one that rushes so now, what you should do with the information I’ve given you."

"What do you mean?"

"Give me the Rose the way an offering is intended, Calliope."

"How do I do that?"

"Shhhh." The woman rested a finger over her lips. "You already know the way. You’re not lost on this journey. You know where the destination lies and you can set it aright."

"But -"

"Do not visit Talking Rock alone."

"When do I -"

"Come quickly."



*******

When your world is racked with a bombshell that leaves the bitter taste of betrayal and lies in your mouth ... your tears tend to dry to dust. That was certainly the case for Melana Torres. She reacted mechanically, sweeping wrapping paper and empty boxes from the sofa so that someone, she didn’t pay attention who, could put Callie there. She heard herself demanding that Stavros wet a cloth. She heard the slap of his bare feet as he rushed down the hallway to do what she asked, but she didn’t react to anything other than Callie’s closed eyes and the way that Alex had folded her hands over her chest the same way they fold the hands of a body in a coffin. It jarred her slightly, but only enough to rearrange those limp hands because the image of her child, of any of her children, being displayed in a coffin was enough to make her pull her hair out and scream to the heavens at the injustice that such a mental image would dare invade what should have been a peaceful, lovely Christmas morning.

Kneeling beside the sofa, Alex tapped Callie lightly on the cheek, murmuring softly to her. Stavros rushed back into the room, his festive Santa pajamas almost comical as he handed Alex the cloth. Melana wanted to laugh. She wanted to throw her head back and let her sides split open because that would be much better than what she wanted to do because what she wanted to do would make herself a widow, her children fatherless, and spend the rest of her days locked behind bars. The sanctity of a small cell seemed like a much better alternative to the big, open world that was suddenly swallowing her whole. She closed her eyes, counted to five, and opened them again with a silent prayer that it had all been a dream.

It wasn’t.

Raphael still sat dumbfounded with the Rose on his lap and instead of watching the attempts at rousing his daughter ... he was gazing through the glass at the ugly, shriveled, stupid and absurd *weed* that had effectively knocked the wildcat out of Mel. Seeing that forced it to crawl right back to the surface and she stalked forward, snatched the cylinder, and lifted him to his feet by his ear. She pointed at Callie, tucking the Rose under her arm like a football. "If you want to feel sorry for yourself then do it later, shithead. Your daughter is ILL!"

"OH! My god!" Raph hurried to the sofa, resting a hand on Callie’s leg, where he shook her lightly. "Mija!?"

Callie’s eyes fluttered and she gasped as she opened them, blinking against the harsh light. "Wha-"



"Welcome back," Alex said softly, smoothing her bangs off her forehead. He stopped her when she tried to sit up. "Don't push it yet. Are you dizzy?"

"What's wrong with her?" Stavros demanded. "She doesn't *faint*."

"Well, Dad did just drop a bombshell," Cambyses pointed out. "*I* feel like fainting."

"You’re a chickenshit," Loukas assured him. "But Callie doesn’t *faint*."

Callie shared a secretive smile with Alex. He winked at her and gave her a slight nod. She took a deep breath and said, "Apparently this baby thinks otherwise."

"This what?" Raphael looked at her as if she had grown two heads. "Did you say-"

"Baby?" Callie nodded. "I'm pregnant."

Raphael shoved Alex out of the way, pulling her into his arms. "Are you okay? How far along are you? Is this why you've been so sick? What can I do? Do you need to see a doctor? What about vitamins? Are you taking enough of those?"

"ALEX! I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS!" Cambyses shouted when the news finally sank in. "SHE IS PREGNANT AND YOU DID IT!!"

"Would you rather someone other than her husband be the responsible party?" Melana watched Raph fawn over Callie and smiled despite her anger at him. He had done the same thing with her during each of her pregnancies. "Raphael, give her room to breathe, for Heaven's sake!"

Raph let Callie go and eased her into a sitting position, then he put his hands on his hips and looked at Alex. "I think Cam had a fine idea!"

"I'd be scared if you weren't smiling," Alex let himself be wrenched up, hugged, and patted on the back repeatedly by Callie's brothers. He heard Callie mutter something about male bonding, then laughed out loud when she got to her feet and her brothers scattered like cockroaches. "She's not contagious."

"Does it hurt?" Cam stared down at his twin's stomach with a mixture of awe and horror.

"No."

"Have you had its picture made on that thing yet?" Loukas asked.

"Not yet."

"I hope it's not ugly," Louk added. "You were not a cute baby."

"Fuck you. Yes, I was."

"She was cuter than you." Stavros scratched his chin, eyeing her closely. "Is it moving yet? Can we feel it?"

"Sure." Callie motioned for his hand, then yelled out like he had burned her when he touched her belly. She cackled with glee when all three of her big, strapping brothers screamed like little girls. "Dorks. I’m not even showing yet! Of course you can’t feel it! This is why I'm the doctor in the family."

Stavros looked like he wanted to choke her, but he settled for gently hugging her instead. Loukas followed suit and then Cam wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. He put his face against her hair and whispered, "Are you sure that you can do this?"

"I do have the equipment." They both knew that he was talking about her health, but left it at that. They didn’t acknowledge the fact that she had stiffened in his arms either ... or that the ease of their relationship appeared to be missing.

When congratulations had been dispensed ... Callie motioned for Melana to give her the Rose. She took it, holding it up to the light. "All this trouble ... and this is all there is to it?"

"Don’t let it fool you." Raphael reached for it.

Callie didn’t give it to him. "You *sold* it? To Athena Niarchos!?’

He looked ready to yell in shock. "How did you know that?!"

It was all the confirmation she needed that whatever she had experienced while she had been unconscious had not been a strange fantasy. Warmth spread through her body and the gears in her mind started to spin. She knew what she would have to do with with absolute certainty. "I know a lot of things." She met her father’s eyes. "But if you can keep secrets ... so can I."

******

Raphael watched as his wife sliced tomatoes. She had turned on Christmas music and was humming softly to herself. It was enough to strike terror in his heart, but he cleared his throat and said, "Mel? Are you going to say anything?"

"Do you think I made enough potato salad?"

He glanced at the oversized bowl full of salad on the counter and nodded. "Uh, sure. Are you going to say anything else?"

"I hope we have enough dessert. I should have made another pie. It’s Callie’s favorite and she is eating for two now. She’s so happy. So, so happy."

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he regarded the knife in her hand and had a startling mental image of her ramming it through his chest. "I never meant for your father to be hurt that day. If - if you remember ... you were incredibly sick and neither of us knew that you were pregnant. And - and as for selling the Rose ... I wanted to give you more. I wasn’t rich like your father. I didn’t have a mansion to take you home to and I didn’t have anything to give you except myself. I wanted more for you. When your father started talking about how valuable the Rose of Jericho was and where it was hidden ... I cashed in my integrity and stole it. I sold it to the highest bidder and I hated myself for it. That’s why I had to find it again. I wanted you to have nice things, honey. I wanted our family to have nice things. I never dreamed in a million years that it would bring such damnation on me."

Melana finished slicing the tomatoes and arranged them nicely on a platter. She walked to the cabinet and pulled out several packages of rolls, twisting open the tie on the first bag. "Did the boys set the table?"

"Yes."

"Can you make sure that Cambyses brought in fresh firewood? It’s chilly in the living room."

"It’s chillier in here. Will you please talk to me about this?"

She didn’t meet his eyes. "It’s Christmas. Callie’s home and she’s pregnant and she’s *happy*. When I talk to you about this ... I’m going to yell. I’m probably going to dig through the pots and pans until I find a cast iron skillet and bounce it off your head and while your brain swells and you twitch at my feet ... I’m probably going to kick you. And then before your head explodes from the blow ... I’m probably going to tell you that I remember the beatings my father gave me up until the day that he died and I don’t really care that he’s gone because I have you ... and admitting that will probably ruin my day because I’m mad as hell ... so I’m not going to talk about it. I’m not going to think about it. I’m going to celebrate our family and go into denial for the time being. Got it?"

"Okay." He pursed his lips to keep from smiling. She really, truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. "Do you need help?"

"I do not. Go away."

"What did Callie do with the Rose?" he asked quietly.

Melana finally looked at him. "You get near that thing, think about it, or touch it again, Raphael, and I will put my hand on the Bible and swear an oath to God that I will be very sorry for pulling your rib cage out and make an accordion out of it, but not so sorry that I don’t do it."

"Yes, dear." He breathed a sigh of relief when Cambyses walked into the kitchen and appointed himself the taste tester of everything that had been cooked.

Inevitably ... the argument would come, but Raphael was grateful to just *be* for a while.

"Where is Callie?" Melana asked, holding out a fork full of dressing to Cam, who devoured it before he spoke.

"She’s locked herself in the bedroom with Alex. I’d wager if she wasn’t already pregnant ... she would be by tonight."

"They’re probably sleeping," Raphael stated solemnly.

"Ahhh, so old and yet so naive." Cam put an arm around his father. "Delusions like that take you closer and closer to the old folk’s home, Pop."

*~*~*~*~*~

"Ohhhhhh Godddd," Callie groaned, her nails digging into his chest. "Quickies are waaaay underrated."

Alex had his hands behind his head and was watching her with an amused smile. Getting dressed for Christmas dinner was supposed to be their plan, but the second his pajama bottoms came off she was on him. He definitely didn’t mind. He loved the way her breasts heaved and the way her legs trembled as she sat astride him. It was something he could never tire of. Reaching up, he traced a path over her ribcage and then let his palm rest against her stomach. It was still too surreal to fathom. "You know what? I feel like we’re back to normal. We’re back to the way it was on Goon Docks when everything was new, but everything we wanted then is what we have now. I can’t imagine anything better than this."

She laid both of her hands over his. "I can’t wait until he gets here. You think he’ll have hair?"

"Considering that you have enough for eight people ... I’d say yes." He smiled up at her with contentment. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied, leaning down to kiss him. With her face a few inches from his, she said, "I was going to take you to Disneyland next week, but I can’t ride anything and ... well ... we need to go somewhere else."

"I’ll go anywhere with you."

"I was hoping you’d say that, Jock Strap, because we’re flying to Greece. Tonight."

"Greece!? We were just there and in case you forgot ... I didn’t like it."

"We won’t stay long. We’ll go, take the Rose back, put it on Talking Rock and -"

"Whoa ... hold it." His eyebrows lifted dangerously. "Do I need to point out that you don’t go on that island? You said yourself that it’s evil and -"

"I have to take it back."

"Let Cam take it back! He brought the damn thing here! You’re not involved in this shit anymore."

"You’re losing your temper."

"You’re right. I am." He moved his hands to her hips and started to lift her off him, but she held firm, tightening her legs on his flanks. "Callie, you have this unbelievable ability to not think before you act. What are you doing? You’re carrying our baby and you want to fly out of the country and go to an island that wants to burn you to death. And I’m supposed to go along with that?"

"You can trust me. I know what I’m doing. Please ... don’t be mad."

"I’m not mad ... I’m stunned."

"I would never hurt this baby."

"Prove that by keeping your ass out of the air! You’re not fucking stupid so don’t act like it!"

She bit her bottom lip, her eyes filling with tears. She began to move off him, but he sat up, holding onto her. Wordlessly, he hugged her and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her forehead against his. He didn’t speak for a few seconds, he simply breathed her in while he got a check on his anger. Finally, he said, "We’re not gonna fight about it. We’re not."

"I have to do this, Alex."

"Tell me why."

"I don’t want our kids to inherit any part of the island the way it is. It’s horrible and *wrong*, but I can make it right. I know how." She leaned her cheek against his palm when he brushed a tear off her face. "And I know that if I do it ... if I go there and fix it ... we’re going to be okay. All of us. I just ... I know it."

"How can you make it right? What do you have to do?"

With him buried inside her, with their chests pressed close enough together to feel their hearts beat as one, she told him what she had seen.

It didn’t alleviate his stress levels ... but in the end ... he agreed to go.

And she agreed that she would let him help her every step of the way.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Merry Christmas!" Addison cried as soon as Cambyses opened the front door. She gave him a hug and pointed behind her at Mark, who was attempting to unpack the gifts that were in the car. "Can you please help the big baby?"

"I wish I had not been born so big and strong," he replied, winking at her as he went to help Mark. "It wounds me so."

"You’re not big or strong," Stavros said, joining them. "You just have all the characteristics of a pack mule and everyone knows it."

Addison left the two brothers to bicker at the front door and hurried to the kitchen. She put an arm around Callie and stole the piece of divinity from her hand before she could bite into it. She ate it herself and closed her eyes in happiness as she savored the sweetness. "I have not had morning sickness today and this is so damn good."

"If either one of you eat another bite of dessert before dinner ..." Melana began, then stopped when she saw the way the two friends were sorting through the candy dish. It was comical and endearing. "Ahh, hell, go ahead."

Callie grinned and popped a piece of chocolate in her mouth. "I like being pregnant. You get by with so much. I pinched Stavros and he retaliated by pulling out a chair and forcing me to sit down. Then Loukas gave me a shoulder rub just because he bumped into me. I wonder what I could make them do by crying."

"Ooooh." Addison ate another piece of divinity. "I turned on the waterworks this morning and got a full body massage *and* breakfast in bed."

"Do I need to tell you two about the boy who cried wolf?" Melana asked. "Because if you cry enough now then when the time comes for you to mean it ... those men of yours will be immune."

"Nah, Mark is a sucker." Addy accepted the bottle of water Mel handed her and took a sip. "Gah, now my teeth hurt. Too much sugar."

"Aww, can the sourpuss not hack it?" Callie drank her own water, turned green and left running.

"LIGHTWEIGHT!" Addy called after her, chuckling. "I think my morning sickness is over."

Twenty minutes later, Addison was doubled over the commode in the spare bathroom and her teeth were the least of her worries. When she had emptied her stomach of candy, she made her way to Callie’s room and laid beside her on the bed. "Do you still like being pregnant?"

"It’s a love/hate relationship. Oooh! I need to give you your present!" Callie slipped off the bed and reached under it, pulling out a large square package that was flat and wrapped in festive green paper. "Fair warning ... my resources at Freedom Ridge were very limited."

Addison sat up, rubbing her hands together. "I’d love it no matter what. Even if it was a dented pottery thing like you gave Stavros. What the hell was that anyway?"

"Fuck if I know. It started out as a cup and wound up becoming a paperweight." Callie sat back down on the bed and watched Addy tear into the gift.

Underneath the paper was an oil painting of two women, one with black hair and the other with red, facing each other. Their shadow looked like an enormous heart on the ground and Addison didn’t have to ask for an explanation. She *knew*. "Heart twins."

"Heart twins," Callie agreed. "Always. And check it out ... it’s colorful enough to match your butt ugly bathroom. Hell, it’ll probably blend."

"I am not putting this in my bathroom! It’s too pretty."

"Aha! You confess that the wallpaper is shiteous!"

"I most certainly do not." Addy smiled. "But I confess that I love you, Cal. You are absolutely the best friend I could ask for and the fucking jacket I bought you doesn’t even come close to this so I’m glad that I also splurged on earrings, a purse, and a sweater."

Callie laughed, hugging her. "Wanna go to Greece?"

"When?!"

"Tonight."

"Why?"

Callie told her and just like she suspected, Addison agreed without hesitation. Callie’s plane would carry two more people and she toyed with whether or not to bring Cambyses ... but a part of her ... a tiny, resentful, *angry* part of her still held onto what he had said on the tape. And a bigger part resented him for finding the Rose on his own ... when she had searched for years. As much as she wanted to include her twin ... she simply couldn’t.

They joined the rest of the family for dinner and made room at the table when Derek and Meredith showed up. He was all smiles when he announced their plans to adopt McKenna and thanked Melana and Raphael so many times that it became a running joke, prompting everyone to mention what they were thankful for. Melana stole the show by saying she was thankful she had not committed murder that day, though she hadn’t ruled it out.

No one mentioned the impromptu trip to Greece, but then again ... no one was brave enough.

*~*~*~*~*~
When it came to sneaking out of the house, Callie was a professional. She packed minimal luggage, the largest bag being brought along simply to accommodate the Rose of Jericho, and moved around with the stealth of a mouse. After leaving a note for her mother that said she had gone to Disneyland with Alex, she put Chunk in his kennel and followed Alex through the woods to Addison’s place. Mark answered the door before they could knock and ushered them inside, shooting a nervous glance behind them. The first words out of his mouth were, "Are you sure it’s safe?"

Callie nodded. "I am." She looked at Addison. "What did Webber say?"

"He was less than thrilled. So, I told him that Mark and I were headed for a divorce if we didn’t take some time off to reconnect. I swear ... I think he’s convinced that we just want to go to Disneyland with you."

"Did you tell your family anything?" Mark asked.

"I don’t want them there." Callie shook her head. It was a lie. She was still struggling with leaving Cambyses behind so she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders with determination. "Are you guys ready?"

They rode to the airstrip in Mark’s car and Callie dozed on Alex’s shoulder the entire time. When they arrived, the man that handled the upkeep of Callie’s jet packed their luggage into it, but Callie kept a firm grip on the Rose. She strapped it into one of the four passenger seats and headed outside to do a visual check up on her plane, then she boarded, started the engine, and pointed them toward Miami, where they would be utilizing one of her father’s much larger planes for the remainder of the trip. She couldn’t wait to get some sleep and yawned several times as she took the small plane to the desired altitude.

At that precise moment, a cell phone trilled to life in Callie’s house and Raphael answered it on the third ring. He had his family up and awake within five minutes of the call and he was securing his own flight plan to Greece before Callie had made it safely out of Washington’s airspace.

The only outward sign of his horror was the fact that his hands trembled and his voice cracked over every order he barked.

Those who knew him ... understood that he was terrified.

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie did get her wish to sleep on the luxury jet that Raphael had given Melana a few years before as an anniversary present. ‘Mi Vida’ was written in bold, swirling letters on the side and the gourmet chef who worked for the family in Miami had already stocked the plane with food and had a beautiful breakfast spread on the dining room table. They ate before they took off and as soon as the jet was in the air, Callie was in the bed and sleeping peacefully. Everyone else followed suit and were not awake for the angry call from Melana to the Chef where she demanded that they turn around. The pilot, who Callie had threatened within an inch of his life, did not deviate from the flight plan and apologized profusely to Melana and then to Raphael, who assured him that his flying days were over. He was ordered not to tell Callie that they were coming and when he landed in France to refuel, the plane was detained and searched longer than it needed to be. Four hours longer, which prompted Callie to have an impressive tantrum the likes of which Alex had never seen and wouldn’t mind never seeing again.

When they landed in Greece, the Chef (who had always been fond of her) took Callie aside and let her know that her family had called. Callie took the news well. She had expected as much and planned for it. Night had fallen and the moon was full and as she gazed up at it she was reminded on the dream she’d had of Kalligenia holding the moon in her hands. Instead of going to Bounty’s Keep, she had the driver take them to her Uncle Demi’s house, which was darkened. The entire time she was untying his boat and hotwiring it ... she was praying that he would not wake up and come out with guns blazing. Luck was on their side because they were well on their way to Talking Rock within minutes and Callie thought, not for the first time, that the stars were aligning a little too easily and it was more than a little unnerving.

"What is that?" Addison asked, pointing at the island as they approached.

Callie’s heart slammed in her chest as she watched fog roll out toward them like a sandstorm. She felt eight years old again, scared out of her wits, but compelled to put on a face of bravado for someone else’s benefit. Back then ... it had been Cambyses who had trembled at the sight of fog. Now it was Addison and if Callie wasn’t mistaken, the two men in the boat were just as bad off. "It’s okay. It’s the weather. Does crazy things to the ... weather."

"Riiiiight." Mark looked behind them, where Bounty’s Keep rose from the rocks like a fortress. There were lights on all over the place and he could just make out the glass balcony. "Are they having a party over there tonight?"

Turning, Callie looked at the mansion curiously. "Hmmm. I don’t know. Maybe Willa is having a card came. She does that a lot."

"We lost a lot of time in France," Alex pointed out. He had been mostly silent for the entire trip. "You don’t think your parents -"

"Don’t even say it." She pointed at the rope and asked Mark to tie it to the dock at Talking Rock, then shut the engine and picked up the bag containing the Rose.

When they were all standing on the dock, she took a deep breath. "Be careful. Stay out of the altar circle, and no matter what happens ... let it."

"Are you sure that this -" Addison began.

"I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life and neither has the island." Callie pointed at the fog, which had stopped at the end of the dock. The thick white mist had parted itself, forming the shape of an arched doorway. "You asked what it was, Addy. That’s a welcome mat."

"Jesus Christ." Alex caught her hand as she started down the dock. "Callie - I get that you grew up around this shit, but we didn’t. And I’m pretty sure that this is not a good sign."

"It’s a great sign, but if you guys want to wait here ... that’s fine. I only brought you along because you’ve been with me this far and you *get* what’s going on. If you can’t go the rest of the way ... I understand. It’ll only take me a few minutes."

"Screw that!" Addison took a step forward. "I’m in."

Hoisting the bag over her shoulder, Callie nodded. As a group of four, they walked down the dock and disappeared into the fog.

The pathway that had been carved through the mist was pristine. It was like being inside a glowy, milky maze and Addison reached out to touch it. Despite the cool, December air, the fog was warm and felt like water licking at her skin. Her hand shimmered when she looked at it and she gasped, showing it to Mark. He pulled her to the middle of the ‘aisle’ and made her walk in front of him, his hands on her shoulders. Eventually, something started to snag at their pants and everyone realized that they were crossing through the flower garden ... the same flower garden where non-native flowers in eight species grew ... the same flower garden that supposedly represented the eight original women who participated in the ritual of Thesmorphia. The women who had been cursed to die for the sin of human sacrifice. The fog rolled back slightly as they stepped into the clearing where the altar sat, glowing like sun bleached bones under the moon.

Callie’s heart was pounding as she kneeled down to unzip the bag. "Stand back."

"What are you -" Alex began.

"Alex, you promised." Callie looked up at him, then at her friends. "Go stand beside those bushes and no matter what you see or hear ... just ... stay there. I promise you ... I’m going to be fine."

Squatting beside her, Alex studied her face. "You better be. I mean it, Gothika, if you get one scratch on you ... I’m going to blow this place up."

They all heard it then ... the tinkering of feminine laughter that could have been nothing more than a wind chime somewhere in the trees ... but there was no wind and the trees were a good distance away. Addison stiffened and moved so close to Mark that she was practically glued to him. "What was that?"

Callie didn’t answer. She pulled the Rose from the bag and let it rest in the sand in front of her. "Go, Alex."

He kissed her forehead and joined the other two at the line of prickly bushes that Callie had designated their ‘safe zone’. He watched as she pulled a candle out of the bag, lit it, and took a pouch from her pocket. Next, she palmed a set of rosary beads. He could not hear her words, but her bowed head and the way she worried the beads made it clear that she was saying a prayer. Addison reached down and took his hand and he clung tightly to it. They both yelled in shock when a small line of fire began in front of Callie and slowly, like dominoes being knocked down, it crept around the altar, zig zagging until it made the shape of a pentagram. The flames were low, barely reaching five inches, but it was close enough to Callie to make Alex sweat bullets. He took a step forward, but Addison yanked him back. "Don’t. She asked you not to."

"I was just making sure I could," Alex replied.

Getting to her feet, Callie put the rosary back into her pocket and picked up the glass container. In a clear, strong voice, she said, "I seek entrance to your hallowed grounds."

The flames jumped to a foot high.

"I seek no gain."

Now the flames were waist high.

"I seek no power."

Chest high.

"I seek no wealth."

The flames were over Callie’s head and giving off enough heat to scorch her face, but she didn’t move an inch.

"I seek to give thanks with an offering."

The fire was raging now, but she didn’t feel it. It was blinding, it was less than a foot from her face, but all she felt was calm, soothed.

She held the glass into the fire and watched the gold begin to melt away from the lid. It fell against her skin and it should have blistered and been painful enough for her to scream, but that was not the case.

Her ears were filled with one word and one word only ... "Come".

That’s what she did.

She stepped into the fire and didn’t look back.

*~

"Callie!" Alex rushed forward, but he was pushed out of the way by a frenzied Melana Torres, who had run out of the woods screaming her daughter’s name. He scrambled to his feet in time to see her hit an invisible wall that sent her flying into the air. She landed on Mark, who softened the blow enough that no one was injured.

"NO!" Melana screamed, scrambling to her feet with shocking agility for a woman in her sixties. "I CAN GO IN! I WENT IN LAST TIME! I GOT HER LAST TIME!"

Raphael and Cambyses arrived on the scene just in time to see her attempt to rush through the flames again. This time Cambyses caught her and stared wide eyed at the flames. It was an inferno. "CALLIE!"

Running to the spring, Raphael gathered water in a small bucket and raced back to the pentagram, throwing it in. When Callie had been eight years old and Melana had gone into the fire to retrieve her, Xenos had thrown the water and the fire was extinguished. Now, however, it continued to rage and he could only stare at it and pray that his daughter was not dying because of the things he had done in the past. When Melana tried to launch herself at the flames again, he grabbed her around the waist and sank to the sand with her, his arms around her. She was all he had to hold onto now.

Stavros and Loukas, who had only been told fragments of the power of the island, kneeled beside their parents with looks of horror on their faces.

"WHAT DO WE DO!?!" Alex shouted. "RAPHAEL! WHAT DO WE DO!?"

Cambyses stared at his brother in law. Sweat was rolling down Alex’s face. Addison’s too. Mark was mopping at his own brow and Blake was doing the same. Cambyses was not sweating, however. He was standing right next to the wall of fire and felt ... nothing. Reaching out, he touched it and gasped when he heard a delicate, female voice say, "Come."

Hell bent on finding his sister, Cam did just that.

Once he was inside the fire ... he no longer heard his family’s frantic screams.

"Callie?"

He found her standing at the altar. There was no fire here, no smoke or worry. She was regarding the stone slab with a look of determination on her face. "It won’t open."

"You’re not burning to death."

"Well, no. But the point is ... it won’t open. We have to put the Rose *inside* it, Cam."

Cam reached for the lid on the altar and pulled at it. "Heavy."

"You don’t think I already tried that?" Callie looked down at the flower at her feet. "I knew how to get this far, but ... she didn’t tell me how to open it."

"Did you bleed on it?"

"Duh." She pointed at a red smear on the white stone.

Cutting his hand on the jagged edge, Cam added his blood next to hers and waited. Nothing happened. "Well. Shit."

"Are you really here?" she asked suddenly. "I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating. I think I saw an ox while ago."

"I’m here, but you’re not happy to see me. You don’t trust me, do you?"

Callie didn’t meet his eyes. "Not the way I used to."

"Do you see what I did just now with the whole saving you thing? I came through *fire* for you. I’m pretty sure I’ve pissed my pants and I may do worse than that before this is all said and done... but I’m here. How can you not trust me?"

"I do, just ... we’re not the same as before."

"What’s it gonna take?"

"This is *really* not a great time for this discussion. Can you focus?" She kneeled down beside the stone, her fingers fumbling for a lever, for a button, for anything to open it. Cam did the same thing, moving to the other side and groping clumsily. They worked their way around, until they were standing at the head and foot of the altar. They both rested their hands on it, looking at one another with matching looks of frustration. "You hurt me, Cam. A lot. And you could have died."

"You almost died by your own hand and I forgave you for *that*." He watched her mouth fall open. "Uh huh, I got you there, didn’t I? Let the scoreboard show that I am in the lead."

"Stop talking."

"I’m sorry."

"Quit it!"

"I’M SORRY!"

"Shut your mouth! I’m trying to think!"

"I love you, Callie. You may not see that but I KNOW it ... so if this is how it has to be between us ... I’ll take it because just seeing you is enough. I’ve loved you since before we even *were* and I’ll love you when all is said and done because you’re as much as part of me as I am. You’re more of me ... because everything I do ... I think of you first. " He waited patiently, expectantly. "Well? How was that?"

"I think it’s fair to say," Callie gave him a small grin. "Wonder Twin Powers ..."

"Activate," they said together.

And just like that ... the slab moved to one side and Callie’s eyes widened when she saw two mummified corpses inside it. Obviously male and female, their hands were clasped together, fingers entwined. Children, she thought. They were only children. Their matching black hair was shiny in the moonlight and Callie longed to touch it, to smooth it back, but she didn’t. She walked around the tomb and picked up the Rose.The lid had been mostly burned away, but the seal was unbroken and she laid it between the two bodies, not giving in to the urge to cry.

Cam put a hand on hers as she grasped the edges of the altar. "I think they’re twins."

"Yeah, I know."

Reaching into the altar, Cam touched the little girl’s cheek. It was withered, leathery. "I’m glad they’re together. When - when I die ... I want to be with you."

"Cam -"

"I’ve never really been without you, you know? Before we were even born ... I felt you. I know I did. And I want you to know that when I working with The Triad ... I felt you then, too, you were with me and I didn’t leave you behind. You were the reason I did it at all."

Leaning her head against him, she nodded. "I believe you. And ... that’s the same reason I worked with FMC. For you. So you wouldn’t have to because you really did piss your pants coming in here, didn’t you?"

"Shut up ... why don’t we put the top back on this thing and let them rest in peace?"

Together, they wrenched it back into place and the flames dropped to waist high, then knee high. Callie turned and saw her friends and family waiting, then opened her mouth to speak to Cambyses, but the earth trembled like a quake was rumbling through it and cracked open. He lifted her out of the way and backed up, still clutching her. They both stared with wonder as the altar lowered inch by inch into the ground until nothing was there at all. And then there was laughter again ... children this time ... and two black haired twins emerged from the ground that had sealed itself shut. They looked at Callie and Cambyses, giggling secretively. The little girl reached out, her fingers barely grazing Cam’s arms while the little boy beamed at Callie.

They turned suddenly as one and Callie looked into the distance ... there, emerging from the fog, was Kalligenia and just like the children, you could see through her. She ran forward, gliding as if the wind was beneath her feet, then she dropped to her knees and the twins raced into her outstretched arms. Callie held her breath, wrapping her arms around her brother as they watched the reunion.

"Thaaaank yooooou." A voice hissed across the night and Callie shivered, cold now.

And just like that ... it was over.

The fog was gone, the fire had died away, and Melana rushed into the circle ... gathering her own twins into her arms the same way Kalligenia had.

Only her expression of gratitude was far more colorful, laced with threats and four letter words.

*~*~*~*~*~

"So .. that’s what happened," Callie said, sipping Willa’s special tea as she sat next to Alex in the blue room at Bounty’s Keep. "I’m guessing the men that bought the Rose from Kalligenia’s husband gave it to Nicodemus and he put it in Jesus’s tomb."

Mark chewed a scone, watching the logs in the fireplace glow with warmth. "I’m a doctor. I refuse to believe anything that I witnessed tonight. It’s acute mental anguish brought about from the turbulence on the plane and possibly food poisoning. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it."

"I think it’s beautiful." Blake leaned his head against Cam’s knee and closed his eyes when the other man raked his fingers through his hair. "All this time ... all those deaths ... she was just a mother who was wronged and she wanted her kids back."

"How did the Rose of Jericho do that, though?" Stavros asked, scratching his head. "How did it reunite them?"

"It should have done that to begin with," Raphael said. "It was rightfully hers. It was plucked for her children. Returning it to the proper place must have broken whatever ill will her anguish bled onto the island."

"A mother’s love," Melana interjected, "knows no bounds. If someone took something from my children ... I’d make sure they got it back."

"You wouldn’t kill for it," Loukas told her.

"Wouldn’t I?" Melana turned her attention to Callie. "By the way, sweetheart, I’m furious at you for coming here and not telling us what was going on. And how dare you take *my* plane without my permission? I could skin you alive."

"You’re supposed to kill FOR your children ... not your actual children," Cambyses replied before Callie could. "And don’t give her a hard time because I started it by finding the Rose at all."

"No, I started it by selling it," Raphael interjected.

"Technically," Callie said, "our distant relative started it by killing a powerful Goddess type who could kick ass and take names. We’re innocent as hell."

"You are not innocent, Gothika. Far from it." Alex pulled her a little closer. "And you scared about twenty years off me."

Addison helped herself to her third scone and bit into it. "I wasn’t that scared."

Mark laughed. "That’s why I have scratches down my arm, huh?"

"You scratched yourself like a mangy dog with fleas." Addy smacked him on the back of the head and got to her feet, stretching. "I need a nap."

Willa burst into the room suddenly and grabbed the remote control off the table, flipping on the plasma television that hung over the fireplace. "You won’t believe it!" she cried.

Everyone sat forward in their seats as she found a news channel. Callie gasped, putting a hand over her mouth when she saw Nicky Niarchos’s photo under the words ‘Fatal Plane Crash’. The news announcer was saying, "The Niarchos jet was en route to the United States when the last communication with the pilot came through. On board the plane were Athena and Aniketos Niarchos. It is unclear what the nature of their business in the states consisted of but officials say that there are no survivors. We will continue to update this story as it unfolds."

Callie set her tea on the table and stood up, walking quietly from the room.

Alex found her on the glass balcony a few minutes later. The sun had come up and across the water, Talking Rock was serene, picturesque. A person would never imagine what had taken place there. He put his hand on her back and studied her profile, a frown line between his eyes. "This has nothing to do with the island, Cal. Nothing."

"Cam, Izzie, and Eros went into the spring. Three lives were saved and now, counting the pilot -"

"According to Cambyses ... way more than three people were lost that same night so the dues are paid, baby. And besides ... it’s over. Don’t you dare blame yourself."

"I’m not," she replied. "I - I’m just thinking that life is too short. We blink and it’s gone."

"Then let’s not blink. Let’s keep our eyes open and enjoy every second of it." He took her hand. "We came here. We did what you needed to you and our kids won’t inherit anything evil about the island. You did what no one else could."

"I know."

"Then what’s wrong?" Kissing a tear off her cheek, he added, "Where is this coming from?"

"So many of the things that I grew up believing turned out to be a lie. The Niarchos family didn’t steal that Rose ... my dad sold it to them. And now they’re all dead, the entire family line has vanished like they were never here at all and when remember them ... it won’t be fondly." She took a deep breath. "I don’t want to die and be remembered for being an alcoholic. I don’t want to be remembered for trying to commit suicide or for being a flier. I want to be remembered for being the wife you deserved. I want my kids to say that they had a great mother who kept them safe. I want my friends and my family to remember how much I loved them and ... I want to die with no regrets. Right now ... I have regrets."

"Well, you’re not dying so that’s okay. As for the rest ... they don’t make a headstone big enough to say all you’ll be remembered for. We could write it across the sky and still not have room." He touched chin, which had begun to tremble at his words. "Look around, Gothika, it’s nothing but smooth sailing from here on out."

"Oooh, you want to sail somewhere when we get home? We could take the yacht and -"

"You know what I want to do?" he interrupted softly, pulling her against him. "This. Nothing more than this. For the rest of my life."

"I bet I could show you something more fun to do on this balcony."

"Count me in." He reached for the button on her pants, but she smacked his hand away. "What -"

"I’ll be right back." She headed for the door. "I have to go get the Windex."

"Windex?"

"If my dad sees my ass imprint on this balcony ... I’ll be picking a headstone for *you*."

"Hmmm ... some things are worth dying for."

Callie forgot about the Windex.

And blamed Addison for the naked outlines on the glass.

*~*~*~*~*~
To be continued...