I've Got This Soul 2/10
I’ve Got This Soul 2/10
Title: I’ve Got This Soul…
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Callie, Callie/Mark (eventually)
Disclaimer: All characters, events, settings and situations mentioned in this work are sole property of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, in constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context and are not intended to be defamatory or factual in anyway. Summary: Callie does drinking.
Author’s Notes: So, this chapter is longer. I tried to go deeper into Callie’s--well, let’s face it, depression. I find fics about depression kind of trite, but I hope I’m doing this justice. For my little Megan. Because I love her and she’s amazing and everyone who meets her must love her. Because I said so. Comments/suggestions are appreciated J
*#*
“Don’t push me, I am not okay.”
*#*
Her body ached. Her head ached. Her hair ached, and she groaned as she turned her head against her pillow. There was a mixture of the scent of a strange perfume on the opposite pillow, her own thrown in the mix and the definite smell of sex wrapped in her blankets as her eyes opened involuntarily and she breathed slowly. Her curtain was thin, she realized then, and made a mental note to get thicker ones. She winced against the sunlight, but remained, sprawled where she was, until a deeper than intended intake of breath caused an involuntary spasm in her stomach and a vile taste in the back of her throat made her gag.
She lifted a hand to her lips, closed her eyes and made an attempt to ease the painful disgust, but after a few miserable seconds, she jumped up, careful to keep the thin sheet around her body as she hurried across the room to the bathroom, where she fell quickly before the toilet, her knees sliding against the clean tile before she leaned over, both hands bracing the marble bowl and she emptied the entire contents of her stomach, and then some.
Her eyes watered, her nose clogged with snot and her insides wouldn’t stop heaving. It was painful and disgusting and she wished, for a moment, that it wouldn’t stop. When it did, however, she panted and with a shaky hand, reached up to flush the remains of herself. Lifting her head slowly, she reached for the roll of paper a few inches to her right and sloppily grabbed a handful, cleaning her nose and grunting after breathing in deeply.
Her head fell back and she felt the tears on her cheeks dry as the stomach contractions ceased. A few quiet moments later, she grabbed for the bowl again, pulling herself forward until her hair was framing her perfectly while she heaved again. She was pretty sure everything had gone out the first time, and now it was beginning to burn. But what bothered her more than the acidic effect the whole act was having on her, was that above and beyond the throwing up and the erupting headache that was threatening to torture her all day, she still felt nothing.
She flushed again, her lips parted as she breathed heavily, hunched over the bowl still, her arms resting against the cold edge, her hair a curtain over her face.
She jumped slightly at the feel of cool, but soft, hands grazing the skin of her neck and shoulders as they pulled back her hair.
“It’s alright, it’s just me.” Cristina assured her softly. As softly as Cristina Yang could manage.
Before Callie could protest, she felt a cold, wet towel against her neck, and she was told to close her eyes, so she did, relaxing slowly as Cristina brushed the towel over her bare shoulder, her cheeks, her eyelids and forehead. She felt the tension drain away and she sighed.
Cristina frowned at the slumped mess before her. She stood on her knees as she cleaned the smeared mascara off her roommate’s cheeks, combing her hand through the thick locks of hair before she ran the towel over the expanse of Callie’s back, which was exposed completely for the most part, low where the bed sheet hugged her at the waist. Feeling her breathing somewhat regulate, she dropped the towel in the sink above them and stood. If she knew Callie, and she did, talking was not an option now. And it definitely was not an option for Cristina either. “Owen made coffee.” She said plainly before standing, starting the shower, then closing the door softly behind her on her way out.
The lock clicked and Callie’s eyes flicked toward the door. She knew then she had picked the right roommate. She had the sense to shut up when she needed silence. And Callie needed silence. She needed noise, but for the most part, from her friends, she needed silence.
A shower was definitely welcome noise.
Remaining standing in the shower turned out to be struggle, but it wasn’t as bad as the previous two times. Third time’s a charm, she thought with a smirk, slipping soft cotton over her head, down over her torso until the hem met her jeans. Looking in the mirror, she applied a moderate amount of mascara over her eyelashes, followed by a dab of blush on each cheek.
She smiled and quickly, her face fell. She couldn’t even muster that.
She shrugged it off, rolled her shoulders back, set her head up straight and sighed before heading out her bedroom and into the living room, where, Mark sat giggling with Lexie. She greeted them in passing, headed straight for the cup of coffee Cristina had slid over in her direction on the counter. She wouldn’t look at the smaller woman, but she could feel the lick of her glare on the side of her face. She ignored it. The first time, two weeks ago, she’d managed to go without the accusing eyes, as she had avoided being caught puking her guts out. She’d also managed to slip the redheaded nurse past her roommate without her noticing, just before the sun came up. The teasing at work later was the extent of it.
The week prior to that, however, the anonymous girl she’d picked up at the same club as before, didn’t escape Cristina’s ruthless teasing as the poor girl encountered her on her way out, and Cristina’s way in, in the doorway, then endured a painful walk of shame. Not as painful as the grilling that followed Callie throughout the rest of the day. Concern masked as teasing. It was the worst kind.
She didn’t know what was worse, though, that or the shameless glaring. And the silent treatment she was being administered now.
She sat in the corner stool, flipped through a random magazine that rested before her as she savored a second sip of coffee. A befallen silence ripped her from the half page article on natural ways to beat cellulite and she looked up to find six pairs of eyes on her frame.
“What?” She asked, her voice hoarse from the night before.
“Aren’t you--going to make breakfast?” Mark asked from the couch.
After a beat, and a slight grit of her teeth, she stood and responded, heading for her bedroom, “Do I look like a god damn diner cook?” She didn’t mean to push the door so hard, but it slammed nonetheless, and once back inside her bedroom, she realized she didn’t want to be there.
She felt claustrophobic for the first time in her life and after grabbing her jacket, keys and purse, she headed back out, slipping past her friends.
She hurried across the street and for the first time since her first day as an intern, she looked forward to doing rounds. Hours worth, she hoped.
Her morning went by sooner than she hoped. And after about two hours of rounds, and five minutes of small talk with Bailey, the headache she had been nursing turned into a full blown migraine she couldn’t stand for much longer, so she searched the floor for what she hoped was an empty on-call room.
Finger pressed to her temple, and eyes fixed on the door keeping her from twenty to thirty minutes of bliss, she made her way down a third floor hallway, her pace quickening as she came closer.
“Hey!”
She groaned to the ceiling and slowed down gradually before turning on her heel to face the person she was hoping she wouldn’t have to see foe a while, “Cristina, I really don’t feel like being punked around by you right now, my head is killing me--”
“Oh, well, princess Torres doesn’t feel like being teased.” Cristina whined mockingly as she approached Callie.
“Princess Torres??”
“Look, if you’re done spreading yourself like butter, Meredith is having a thing tonight. It’s Shepherd’s birthday.”
Callie glared at the comment, and opened her mouth to object, but was cut short before she could utter a word.
“Look, before you think about saying no, she’s already counted you in, so--” She shrugged lamely. She wasn’t sure that would work, but she had to try because she could smell the downfall and no one believed her. She really didn’t have it in her to take on another Izzie.
Callie sighed, closed her eyes momentarily and nodded, “Fine, whatever. Can I go now? My head is about to fall off--” Before she could walk off, another voice interrupted her.
“Hey!”
“Oh, Jesus, come on…” She mumbled as Mark came and slid his arm around her playfully while he leaned in close.
“You coming tonight?” He asked, squeezing her shoulders, “Because I have a surprise for you.”
“Are you pregnant?” She asked dryly, slowly pulling from his grasp.
“Ha-ha.” He smiled back, “No. My new scrub nurse is gay. And hot. Very hot. And just your type?”
“I don’t have a type.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty indiscriminative lately.” Cristina added, returning the harsh glare Callie sent her way.
“Well, she’s hot.” He added, “So she’s your type.” He smiled excitedly, “Come on! Get happy! I got you ass, how nice am I?”
“She doesn’t need the help these days, trust me.” Cristina cut in.
“Mark, I don’t do blind dates.” Callie replied.
“Come on.” He nudged her arm, frowning at his friend. “Hang out with me. With us. Haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“You see me everyday.”
“Not like before. Just show up, okay?”
Their eyes met and in spite of the lack of feeling, she managed a smirk, “Alright, I’ll come.”
He smiled victoriously, “Good.”
“Can I go to sleep now? Please?”
“Yeah, go.”
“Okay--” She turned towards the on call room, and stumbled as she almost ran into a slightly taller woman, “--oh, god…” She looked up and was met with a familiar face and an even more familiar pair of hazel eyes.
“Hi, Callie.”
“Hi--” She replied with question, perfectly aware of mark and Cristina watching behind her. She had the terrible feeling she should know the woman before her. She smiled politely and tilted her head quizzically.
“Cindy.” The woman replied, sensing Callie trouble in recognizing her. She stepped closer and spoke in a flirtatiously low tone that hinted of embarrassment, “I uh--forgot my car keys at your place last night. I took a cab home and when I woke up this morning, I realized I didn’t have them--” She chuckled guiltily, then glanced self consciously at the pair behind Callie, who were busying themselves with watching both women closely, “I uh--trued y our place first, but…you weren’t home and I remembered you mentioning you worked across the street. It was either the hospital or the Starbucks a few blocks down. I flipped a coin and the hospital won…I hope it’s okay that I came--”
“Oh, it’s fine.” Callie said quickly, a little terrified that she couldn’t place her adventure from just the night before. A little more, wishing Mark and Cristina would just stop staring, “We can--let’s go--get your car keys.” She ushered the woman away, mouthing to her friends to shut up in passing.
“I told you she had a type.” Mark said to Cristina confidently, who glared back. “What?” he asked defensively.
“You need to talk to her.” She warned him.
“Why?”
“She couldn’t remember the woman she had sex with LAS NIGHT. Don’t you think that’s a LITTLE weird?”
“That happens to me all the time.”
“If she goes off the deep end, I’m pushing you in to get her.”
“What are you talking about--deep end…” he mumbled as Cristina stomped off and he shook his head. He looked on as Callie and her--friend waited for the elevator. She looked tired, but relatively fine. She caught him staring and narrowed her eyes at him, wordlessly telling him to fuck off. He chuckled and turned towards the nurse’s station. Yeah, she was fine.
*#*
Two surgeries just did not cut it. They didn’t keep her headache away or the nerves settled. Huddled away in her favorite chair in the lounge, surrounded by paperwork, she sighed and dropped her pen on the center table. She picked up her phone, ignored a few messages from her sister and a couple from Mark before checking the time. Twenty minutes left until the end of the day. She lifted her hand and held it out. It shook a few seconds before she dropped it back onto her lap and clenched it into a fist, taking a deep breath.
She sat back, drummed her fingers on her lap, until she couldn’t take it anymore, and she stood quickly, her hands to her face as anxiety started to overtake her.
That feeling just before the tears came embraced her and a bitter chill overtook her. She had been feeling a lot of that lately. Taking shallow breaths that were meant to be deep and cleansing, she started to feel dizzy until she was forced to sit back down. The feeling was still there, however and the overwhelming urge to rid of it, made her decide to do the first thing that popped into her head and she stood, gathering her things as quickly as possible before walking out the door.
*#*
“I didn’t even know Joe served food.” Mark said observantly as a waitress set down two salads, for him and Derek. He winked at the young woman appreciatively and smiled at the grimace on Derek’s face, “You seem displeased.”
“I’m not displeased.” Derek replied, pointing at his chest with the fork in his hand, “But you know who WILL be displeased--” he added smartly, “--Lexie. You’re girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend.” He corrected, through a mouthful of Cesar salad.
Derek rolled his eyes and dropped his fork, “What did you do? I told you this was a bad idea. Thanks. Thanks a lot, Mark.”
“This was, believe it or not, a mutual break-up. You know, like adults do?” He retorted smugly, digging into his plate, “It’s healthy. It’s good.”
Derek stared back suspiciously for a moment before replying wearily, “Alright.”
“it’s good.” mark reassured him, “Eat. Relax. And tell me about this birthday party. Will there be strippers or should I bring my own?”
“It’s not a party. It’s a friendly get together.”
“Well, I invited someone for Callie. A little girl-on-girl should make that more-fest of yours a lot more interesting.”
“And speaking of exes--” Derek countered before swallowing a bite, “--what’s going on with Torres?”
“What do you mean?”
“Meredith says she lost a patient recently and she’s been acting a little--off lately. You know anything about that?”
“She’s fine.”
“She’s not fine.” Cristina interjected, sliding into their booth, next to Derek.
“Who invited you?” Mark spat at her with a grimace.
“I did.” Owen answered for her, taking the seat opposite her, next to Mark.
“Why?”
“Don’t even get me started, whore.” Cristina warned as Owen called the waitress over and ordered both their meals, “Callie’s a woman on the verge and you’re shockingly not in her business. The one time you SHOULD be in her business, and--you’re NOT in her business.”
“There’s nothing wrong with her, calm down.”
“Yes, there is.” Owen cut in suddenly, shrugging at the look of disdain mark sent his way, “Look, all I’m saying is, I know it when I see it, and she’s not okay.”
“Well, I’m taking care of it.”
“Hooking her up with a hot blonde is not going to help the situation.” Derek added.
“She just needs to get laid.”
“Uh--” Cristina cut in, holding her hand up for Mark to shut up, “--are you HIGH? She just got laid last night. And has BEEN getting laid. By inappropriate drunk strangers. What’s WRONG with you??”
“Yeah.” Derek agreed, taking the opportunity to punch Mark’s arm.
“What is wrong with everyone?!” Mark complained, punching Derek back.
“Be more attentive.” Derek joked, hitting again, harder this time, while Owen chuckled beside him at the exchange.
*#*
“I just think, that maybe--” Cristina said to Meredith as they carried trays of food into the living room, “--we should keep her away from the alcohol corner, or as I like to call it, Mere’s play-place.”
Brushing off the comment, Meredith turned towards Cristina after setting down a large tray of cheese and crackers, “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? I did my fair of binge drinking and sleeping around. Nothing wrong with a little dark and twisty. Once in a while, you need it before you explode.”
“Callie’s not the dark and twisty type. Once she twists, she won’t snap back.” Cristina said smartly, popping a cracker into her mouth.
“That is…dark.”
“That’s--” She waved her hand in the air, “--woman on the verge.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Just saw the movie the other night. Gen Rowlands will give you a run for your money in the twisted department.”
“Shut up.” Meredith laughed.
Two hours later, a small group of attendees crowded Meredith’s house. She and Cristina stood back, drink in hand as they watched Mark introduce Callie’s blind date to Derek and Owen, “Tall, blonde and stacked.” Cristina pondered aloud, “Who would have thunk--George’s type is her type.”
“Cristina!” Meredith hissed.
“What?! I’m telling you right now, this will be a disaster. You just wait until Callie stumbles in here half in the bottle.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, but I do.”
At that. Callie strolled in through the front door, her eyes scanning the crowd before settling on the approaching man of the night, who met her half way as she broke into a wide smile, “Birthday boy!” She exclaimed, enveloping Derek into a big hug before she kissed his cheek and offered a gift wrapped in blue wrapping paper, “Happy birthday!”
“Wow--” Meredith said as they watched Callie talk amiably with the guys and her recently introduced date, “--she doesn’t look twisty to me anymore.”
She laughed and initiated conversations. She even flirted with Allison, her good looking, seemingly funny and intelligent date. One of Mark’s rare patients who wasn’t interested in getting a boob job. She’d had a few beers and managed to keep her energy level at a moderate altitude.
“--so, you know, they pay isn’t great, but it’s so satisfying at the end of the day.” The blonde said softly over the chatter as they stood in a corner, chatting comfortably.
Callie nodded, ignoring the twinge in her chest that had nothing to do with physical illness and she took another sip of beer before asking, “And--I’m sorry what do you do?”
“Oh, I’m a kindergarten teacher.”
“Oh--” She nodded again, and then it started to happen. The energy she had come in with was draining and she started to feel the sickening feeling. A swooping motion, “That sounds great. That sounds really--great.” She nodded again, “I’m going to get another drink. A big girl drink. Do you want anything?”
“Gin and tonic.”
“You’ve got it.” She smiled before hurrying towards the bar.
Three and a half drinks in and the lightheadedness was a lot more pleasant and the blurred vision was welcome. Four drinks in and--she had dragged, or been dragged she wasn’t sure, the hot blonde, whose name she wasn’t quite aware of anymore, into a closet.
There was kissing and groping and before buttons were undone, the door flew open and Callie stumbled back against the wall, with the blonde right behind her. They giggled at the stunned face they were presented with.
“Sorry--” Alex Karev mumbled, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, “--just need to get my jacket.”
“Leaving so early Karec?” Callie slurred before licking her lips and leaning into the body pressed against her.
“Yeah.” he replied, his eyes falling on the garment between Callie and the wall. “I’m married, so--yeah.”
“Too bad.” Callie answered flirtatiously, smiling at the way Alex seemed flustered. Even if her state of balance wasn’t the currently the best and she was neither here nor there--at least she still had it.
“You’re on my jacket.” he replied, careful not to touch either woman as he grabbed his coat and left quickly. Nearing the door, he came upon Mark and tapped his shoulder, “Dude, Torres is seriously wasted. She can’t even stand up straight. I’d get her home if I were you.”
“What?” Mark asked and soon caught sight of Callie stumbling out the coat closet. On instinct, he moved towards her, but a few steps in, her “date” came up behind her and grabbed her by the waist to hold her up. Both women exchanged giggles, and even as he watched her struggle to walk, something froze him on the spot and he couldn’t get himself to move.
Suddenly, someone else was helping her. Someone else was going to take her home and tuck her into bed. Eventually. It was as if something had snapped suddenly and the colors were too vivid.
She was different. Something about her was different, but he couldn’t place it. He was never very good with realizations. His thoughts were interrupted as a pissed off Cristina pushed past him.
“--god damn it, Sloan, snap out of it.” She said sternly before reaching Callie and quickly pulling her arm around her shoulders, while she grabbed tight hold of her waist to hold her up.
“I’m fine--” Callie mumbled, her eyes closing momentarily as she fought the tears that began to cloud her vision, “--I’m fine, o just need to get some air.”
“I’m getting you home.” Cristina replied in the strange woman’s direction, just before Owen and Derek took over for her and lead her out through the front door, a few curious glances steered away by Crisitna’s cutting glare.
Mark followed the group out and watched helplessly as they settled Callie into the backseat of her car, while Owen walked around the driver’s side.
“Is she okay?” Mark asked worriedly from the doorstep just as Derek walked up to him.
Cristina gritted her teeth and waited to open the car door before turning in his direction, “Any time you want to step up--will be GREAT.”
“You alright?” Derek asked worriedly.
“Yeah.” He nodded in return.
Callie flinched as Cristina’s door slammed, then looked out the window. Through the rain drops left behind, she saw Mark watching her and she sighed heavily as they drove away, closing her eyes and turning her head away. But the discombobulated image of Mark staring at her with that--look. That look she couldn’t stand. And she felt ashamed.
An alcohol induced blackout brought her back to her sitting in her kitchen, dodging a smidge of spilled coffee as Cristina slid a hot cup of it at her, “God, Cristina--”
“Drink it.” She ordered sternly.
“No--thank you.” She replied, pushing the cup away slowly with the tips of her fingers, “I’m going to go to bed, I’m tired--and drunk.”
“Whatever, enjoy your hangover.” She said coldly as she walked to her bedroom.
“What is your problem? Stop acting like my mother.”
Cristina laughed and turned in the doorway, “You know what, Callie? Maybe I SHOULD call your mother. Maybe she’ll slap some sense into your dumb ass. Because at the rate you’re going…”
“WHAT?” Callie snapped, standing up quickly, “At the rate I’m going, what, Cristina?”
“You know--” She replied, “--forget I said anything. Have fun being an alcoholic, and good luck finding someone to clean up your puke.:
“Do YOU know what? I never asked you to clean up my puke. Get over yourself.”
Cristina laughed bitterly, “Take your own advice, Callie. See a shrink, don’t see a shrink, but get your shit together before you drink yourself to death or catch an STD.”
The door was slammed before Callie could say anything back and she was left standing alone in the living room with nothing but the sound of her breathing accompanying her. Tears rimmed her eyes as she walked slowly toward her bedroom, where she closed the door slowly.
Without bothering to kick off her shoes, she crawled into bed and wrapped herself in her comforter, eventually drifting off to sleep, feeling more alone than she had ever felt.
*#*
Cristina awoke the next day to a tall stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs and coffee. She sighed heavily. She hated making up with people.
“Listen, we don’t have to hug or anything--” She stopped short at pushing the door open with her foot. Callie’s room was empty. At least she was up.
*#*