Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy, Chapter 2/?
Title: Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy
Chapter: 2/?
Author: wolfie259
Paring: Callie/Erica
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After Erica leaves, Callie is a shadow of who she once was. What will it take to bring her back?
Disclaimer: All creative rights to Grey's Anatomy and their characters belong to Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland, ABC Network, and company. I do not, in any way, shape, or form, profit from this.
A/N: Because people actually read my story after 30 minutes of posting it, I'm writing another chapter. Here you go....
Addison's silence made the sobbing Callie think she had been hung up on until a heavy sigh puncture the line.
"Oh, Callie," Addy sighed to herself. Callie knew she had translated her earlier babble. "I'll see you in a bit, Cal. Love you."
"Uh-h-h-huuh," Callie hiccupped in response.
"Bye."
The line went silent. Callie sobbed, and, banking left through three lanes of traffic, she sped off the interstate into Los Angeles, the City of the Angels. Yeah, right.
*****
With her GPS set to avoid traffic at all costs, Callie found herself weaving through side streets at a tire-screeching pace. The woman's cool voice shot out directions that had Callie zooming, banking, weaving, and screeching through the dodgiest neighborhood a Torres had ever seen.
Running a red light, turning right, and nearly clipping an inconspicuous black van in the intersection, it was only then that Callie realized that this area was strangely empty except for that van. That thought was brought to the forefront of her mind went she heard the dreaded howl of a police siren, and men dressed in uniforms with "SWAT" emblazoned across the chest poured out the back of the van and surrounded her car. Just. Fucking. Perfect.
"Roll down your window and stick out your hands," a cop called through a loudspeaker. Callie stuck her thousand-dollar insured hands out the window.
"Now open the door from the outside." What the hell? How do I do that? Twisting her arm in a way sickeningly similar to many of her cases, she popped the door open.
"Slowly step outside with your hands up." Rocking back, Callie swung herself up to get out of the car without using her hands and promptly hit the top of her head on her car. Oowww!
Several of the officers' eyes relaxed as they say her bumble into a standing position, but they kept themselves at the ready. Until she turned around.
Her designer shirt clung to her so it was obvious that no weapons were hidden there, her strappy stilletos allowed for no extra storage, and when she stood up, her skirt had hitched up so far as to show the men in blue around her that there was nothing hidden under there.
Officer Kevin Nelson approached the woman and told her to put her hands behind her back. When asked her name, she replied in a chilling monotone, "Doctor Calliope Torres." He shook his head. What was it with female doctors and SWAT? Just the other day, his girlfriend had actually followed him to work.
"Do you have any weapons on you?"
"No."
"Any drug paraphernalia?" he asked.
"No," she responded, a slight sob in her voice.
"Any needles?"
"...I think I might have a few still in sterile packaging, from the last time I had to triage."
After he pat her down (adjusting her skirt for her along the way,) Kevin looked into her eyes and saw the red that rimmed them. A pool of tears dangled below her chin.
"Look, Miss, I know you're from out of town, but how did you end up out here? This is not a place that anybody should hang around."
"I-I... I'm on my way to a friend's house. I... am going through a... rough time in my life and j-j-just n-neeeeed-d somebody--" the rest of Callie's explanation turned into sobs as Officer Nelson watched her.
Looking up at Leslie standing by the car, he motioned him over. "I got the background check back. She's clear as crystal. Has a trust fund of over 5 mil. No need for her to be involved with that bunch," Leslie told Kevin in a hushed tone. "Let's just write her a ticket and send her on her way."
Kevin shook his head. "No way is she fit to drive. Have one of the rookies take her in a squad car to wherever she's going, and take the car to the DMV. She can get it when she's in a better state of mind." Leslie nodded his agreement and motioned over Davis.
"You'll be taking her wherever she wants to go in LA," Leslie barked to Officer Davis. "Are we clear?"
"Fine," grumbled Davis.
"I asked you "are we clear" Officer Davis?"
"Yes Sir!"
******
"Are you sure I have to sit in the back?" Callie queried.
"Sorry ma'am. It's protocol," Davis threw back through the grating.
Fucking perfect.
"Here you are ma'am. Oceanside Wellness center," Davis informed her as they slid to a stop. He sat there, looking at her as if he expected Callie to get out on her own.
"You know, the back doors of a cop car can't be opened from the inside," Callie spat irritatedly.
"Oh! Sorry." Leaping out of the car, he opened the door for her and helped her take the luggage that had been placed in the back (after thorough inspection, of course.)
Looking up at the poor officer who was supposed to be on SWAT but instead had to be a chauffeur for her, she softened and gave him a sincere "thanks."
"No problem." Hopping into the black-and-white, he sped off in hope of some excitement.
Sighing heavily, Callie picked up her bags and headed through the bright and shiny glass doors of the Oceanside Wellness Center.
******
Violet Turner took in the curious scene from her place in line at the coffee cart. From what she saw, the woman with the police escort wasn't a criminal, yet didn't seem to be someone of that much importance either. That itself didn't interest the shrink much. No, what piqued Dr. Turner's interest was the broken stance of the woman. And the broken nose, too.
Following the woman inside with coffee in hand, Violet was eager to see where this woman was heading.
Chapter: 2/?
Author: wolfie259
Paring: Callie/Erica
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After Erica leaves, Callie is a shadow of who she once was. What will it take to bring her back?
Disclaimer: All creative rights to Grey's Anatomy and their characters belong to Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland, ABC Network, and company. I do not, in any way, shape, or form, profit from this.
A/N: Because people actually read my story after 30 minutes of posting it, I'm writing another chapter. Here you go....
Addison's silence made the sobbing Callie think she had been hung up on until a heavy sigh puncture the line.
"Oh, Callie," Addy sighed to herself. Callie knew she had translated her earlier babble. "I'll see you in a bit, Cal. Love you."
"Uh-h-h-huuh," Callie hiccupped in response.
"Bye."
The line went silent. Callie sobbed, and, banking left through three lanes of traffic, she sped off the interstate into Los Angeles, the City of the Angels. Yeah, right.
*****
With her GPS set to avoid traffic at all costs, Callie found herself weaving through side streets at a tire-screeching pace. The woman's cool voice shot out directions that had Callie zooming, banking, weaving, and screeching through the dodgiest neighborhood a Torres had ever seen.
Running a red light, turning right, and nearly clipping an inconspicuous black van in the intersection, it was only then that Callie realized that this area was strangely empty except for that van. That thought was brought to the forefront of her mind went she heard the dreaded howl of a police siren, and men dressed in uniforms with "SWAT" emblazoned across the chest poured out the back of the van and surrounded her car. Just. Fucking. Perfect.
"Roll down your window and stick out your hands," a cop called through a loudspeaker. Callie stuck her thousand-dollar insured hands out the window.
"Now open the door from the outside." What the hell? How do I do that? Twisting her arm in a way sickeningly similar to many of her cases, she popped the door open.
"Slowly step outside with your hands up." Rocking back, Callie swung herself up to get out of the car without using her hands and promptly hit the top of her head on her car. Oowww!
Several of the officers' eyes relaxed as they say her bumble into a standing position, but they kept themselves at the ready. Until she turned around.
Her designer shirt clung to her so it was obvious that no weapons were hidden there, her strappy stilletos allowed for no extra storage, and when she stood up, her skirt had hitched up so far as to show the men in blue around her that there was nothing hidden under there.
Officer Kevin Nelson approached the woman and told her to put her hands behind her back. When asked her name, she replied in a chilling monotone, "Doctor Calliope Torres." He shook his head. What was it with female doctors and SWAT? Just the other day, his girlfriend had actually followed him to work.
"Do you have any weapons on you?"
"No."
"Any drug paraphernalia?" he asked.
"No," she responded, a slight sob in her voice.
"Any needles?"
"...I think I might have a few still in sterile packaging, from the last time I had to triage."
After he pat her down (adjusting her skirt for her along the way,) Kevin looked into her eyes and saw the red that rimmed them. A pool of tears dangled below her chin.
"Look, Miss, I know you're from out of town, but how did you end up out here? This is not a place that anybody should hang around."
"I-I... I'm on my way to a friend's house. I... am going through a... rough time in my life and j-j-just n-neeeeed-d somebody--" the rest of Callie's explanation turned into sobs as Officer Nelson watched her.
Looking up at Leslie standing by the car, he motioned him over. "I got the background check back. She's clear as crystal. Has a trust fund of over 5 mil. No need for her to be involved with that bunch," Leslie told Kevin in a hushed tone. "Let's just write her a ticket and send her on her way."
Kevin shook his head. "No way is she fit to drive. Have one of the rookies take her in a squad car to wherever she's going, and take the car to the DMV. She can get it when she's in a better state of mind." Leslie nodded his agreement and motioned over Davis.
"You'll be taking her wherever she wants to go in LA," Leslie barked to Officer Davis. "Are we clear?"
"Fine," grumbled Davis.
"I asked you "are we clear" Officer Davis?"
"Yes Sir!"
******
"Are you sure I have to sit in the back?" Callie queried.
"Sorry ma'am. It's protocol," Davis threw back through the grating.
Fucking perfect.
"Here you are ma'am. Oceanside Wellness center," Davis informed her as they slid to a stop. He sat there, looking at her as if he expected Callie to get out on her own.
"You know, the back doors of a cop car can't be opened from the inside," Callie spat irritatedly.
"Oh! Sorry." Leaping out of the car, he opened the door for her and helped her take the luggage that had been placed in the back (after thorough inspection, of course.)
Looking up at the poor officer who was supposed to be on SWAT but instead had to be a chauffeur for her, she softened and gave him a sincere "thanks."
"No problem." Hopping into the black-and-white, he sped off in hope of some excitement.
Sighing heavily, Callie picked up her bags and headed through the bright and shiny glass doors of the Oceanside Wellness Center.
******
Violet Turner took in the curious scene from her place in line at the coffee cart. From what she saw, the woman with the police escort wasn't a criminal, yet didn't seem to be someone of that much importance either. That itself didn't interest the shrink much. No, what piqued Dr. Turner's interest was the broken stance of the woman. And the broken nose, too.
Following the woman inside with coffee in hand, Violet was eager to see where this woman was heading.