(no subject)
Title: They Say She's A Beautiful Girl
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Callie. Callie/Erica, implied Callie/Mark
Word Count: 518
Rating: PG
Author's Notes/Warnings: Based on possible spoiler speculation. bebitched made me write this one.
Summary: Post finale. The ties that bind, she thinks, every time her thoughts wander back to when they were all just friends.
Supposedly, and she’s been told this by people before, this situation is kind of funny. Funny like hey, this could be a sitcom, except it’s her life so she has trouble finding anything to laugh about.
Like, for instance, when they’re out, pretty much anywhere that isn’t the hospital, someone will inevitably say, “what a beautiful little girl” and, faced with two women, will eventually ask, “Which one of you is her mother?”
See, that question would be fine if she could answer it for herself. She is her technical, biological mother, so it isn’t like she’s lying. But when you’re dealing with a talkative five year old who doesn’t exactly understand the implications of what she’s saying, it’s a whole other story. A story that usually ends with said child blurting, “They both are.”
The person, a woman more than likely, frowns, assuming the child is mistaken, and looks back up at them, at her and Erica, at which point her daughter will generally elaborate to include, “I have two mommies and a daddy.”
Yeah, that usually brings an end to the conversation.
Clearly, she has a talent for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, which Callie is going to guess she got from her father. Mark Sloane has never been one for tact of timing, she knew that before, while, and after she slept with him, which is what led to this.
The ties that bind, she thinks, with a shake of her head, every time she thinks back to when the three of them were just friends, before on-call room sex and lesbian affairs and people who try to be the better man for once.
So they have a daughter, her and Mark, and her and Erica are together and they manage. They’re all still friends, in one way or another, they all get along fine, and Mark’s a better dad than most would ever give him credit for.
Of course, with three parents taking care of her, it’s like she’s decided to be three times the trouble, which is what makes moments like that not uncommon. She likes the attention and she gets it quite often, a striking little girl with dark waves and green eyes, some colorful mix of her mother’s brown ones and her father’s light blue ones. The nurse had mumbled something about recessive genes and “they’ll change when she gets older, probably darken” but they didn’t, Callie isn’t surprised, and thus she acquired the first name of Jade, which was just unique enough without being - well, without being as complicated as her own name. No one had said a word because after thirty two hours of labor the least they could do was let her pick the name.
There are days when she regrets it all, wonders what she was thinking during that two week bout of insanity. There are also days where she looks at her daughter and she smiles and it’s all worth it. She guesses as long as those days outnumber the others than sleeping with Mark Sloane was the best thing she ever did.
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Title: It's Far Too Late To Turn Back Now
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Charlotte. Implied Charlotte/Daniel.
Word Count: 263
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Second attempt at the freighties -- and yet another character I'm not particularly fond of (or sure of). Feedback is appreciated on this one.
Summary: Post finale. She almost believes these things she tells herself.
He was gone in a flash.
She guesses if she was a poet, if she liked metaphors and double meanings, she’d think herself clever. Instead she’s just disillusioned and regretful.
The island moved, they’ll say, years later, with a shrug of their shoulders that insists they just informed her ‘it rained, no big deal’. The island moved and his bearing was wrong and for all she knows the raft still circles the ocean around wherever the island used to be, and it makes her wish he hadn’t tried to be so damn helpful.
“He was probably trying to impress you,” Miles mutters, on topic, and Rose has her eye on the both of them - she’s never liked that woman but she admires how ballsy she is - so she looks down, where the wood that holds up the shelves of food meets the sand, studying all the imperfections in it and her and Daniel, all without meaning to.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, breezily, even so, because Miles does not get to her, no one gets to her, this is the person she is and she’s fine with that. Just like Daniel would’ve been shuttling people to that doomed boat even if she wasn’t there, because he is his own person, and maybe being helpful is just in his blood.
She almost believes these things she tells herself.
Mostly she just believes that although she’ll probably one day see that raft again, washed ashore by the current and the rising tide, he’ll be long gone in more ways than one.