The Awakening (9/?)
Title: La fine di un sogno (or The Awakening)
Author: Spooky85
Pairing: Callie/Erica
Rating: Pg
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Notes: Sorry it took me so long to update, and it's a short chapter too. But I can safely promise you I'll be posting the next chapter on monday, to make up for the long wait. Hope you won't be too disappointed...
Prologue__Denial________ -_____Epilogue___(???)
Chapter1__Shock________ -_____Chapter15__(???)
Chapter2__depression____ -_____Chapter14__(???)
Chapter3__rebound______ -_____Chapter13__(???)
Chapter4__revulsion______ -_____Chapter12__(???)
Chapter5__secrets_______ -_____Chapter11__(???)
Chapter6__memories_____ -_____Chapter10__(???)
Chapter7__disillusionment_ - _____Chapter9__(expectations)
_______________Chapter8_The Bridge___________
*Chapter9*
Ever since I started dreaming of being a surgeon, my sights have always been set on Seattle Grace.
I remember the first time I heard of it I had just been admitted to med school.
I knew I loved medicine, I knew I loved science, but I still had no idea what I wanted to specialize in. I liked most of my classes and were good at the majority of them too, but none of them had picked my interest.
General surgery looked good, many organs to operate on, many challenges. On the downside, however were the sheer boredom of appendectomies. Plastics I never even considered. Too stupid and shallow for me. Neuro wasn't bad, it was neuro surgeons I couldn't get around. Too full of themselves, too superior for my taste. At first I thought I was gonna go with Cardio. It had always fascinated me, but the first heart surgery I witnessed bored me to tears.
I needed something faster, rougher.
So when news reached the halls of my university that an astonishingly new technique was going to be implemented at Seattle Grace to recreate a man's chest, my interest was caught.
The car accident had been so bad that each and every one of the man's ribs had been broken.
A whole new set of ribs. When our Ortho professor asked us who wanted to sign up for an opportunity to watch this surgery I remember that my signature was first on the list.
And that was the day I fell in love with Ortho.
Seattle Grace had become my dream.
I studied hard to get the best grades. I graduated with top marks and my letter of internship to Seattle had been mailed as soon I could officially be called a doctor.
The first time I walked into that hospital my heart stopped. It was beautiful, even more so than when I had first walked it's floors all those years before.
Filled with people and movement, it was alive. With the best staff in the country it ranked as a level one trauma and transplant center. Everybody I knew wanted to get in the program. And I had been chosen. I was proud. Of myself. Of my life. Of all the sacrifices I had made to get there.
I finally had something real to make me feel good about myself. I had no idea what working in a hospital was supposed to be like. Performing procedures I'd only ever read in books.
So it didn't shock me that everybody seemed to know everybody's business around there. That the rumor mill was as buzzing with activity as the ER. When news of a relationship between one of my fellow interns and a surgeon broke out I wasn't surprised.
Seattle Grace was the best hospital to be working at, but it was the worst to keep your private life private.
I kept my distance, only caring about my studies, trying not to fuel rumors with my behavior. I would go to work, do my job, assist my Resident in every procedure we came across, and then I would go home. Or rather down the basement.
Toxic Torres. My latest nickname. I knew every nurse was calling me that. And some of my colleagues too. But I didn't care. I wasn't there to make friends. I was there to become the best surgeon I possibly could.
And I did.
Only I guess along the line I let the gossip seep into me. I became the Seattle Grace drama queen faster than I could say 'I do'
My marriage to George one week, and then divorcing him not even a month after our vows, granted me that title.
One minute I was a kickass ortho resident, the next I was a wife. And then a divorcee. And then chief resident And then I was fired. And the a cage fighter ready to kill Stevens over George. And then a weird freak who would beat up on patient's family members and stand in the rain crying.
I had made a mess out of my life in less than two months.
I just wanted to lay low.
I would walk the hospital halls and hear whispers behind my back. I'd walk into a room and conversation would immediately stop. Everybody knew about me and everybody had a theory about it. I was crazy. I was a bitch. I was plotting to kill Stevens. Or George. Or both. I was an alcoholic. I was a drug addict. I was on depression meds.
When I took two days off work because of the flu, everybody started talking about my suicide attempt.
It was crazy. It was suffocating. It was my hospital.
So as I sit here and look around me, I'm astounded.
This place is big, huge. It's full of people, but there's none of the noise that resonates through Seattle Grace's corridors.
The light as it filters from the ceiling high windows, reflecting the light blue color of it's walls, covers this place with a veil of beauty and silence.
The nurses station is surrounded by doctors rushing around each other in a well choreographed dance. Everybody knows exactly what they are supposed to do, and they mingle beautifully.
People talk to each other with a smile on their faces and there is no venomous whispering once their backs are turned.
These people are doctors. Professionals. Unlike the place I come from, the freak show it has become.
I see how Erica would like it here.
I'm waiting. I don't know what I'm waiting for, but I am.
I came in here almost an hour ago and all I've done has been sitting here and look around me.
Am I looking for her? I don't know. But I know that she works here. Addison told me. I know that at any given moment she could walk out one of those doors, talk to one of those people, pick up one of those charts.
What will I do once I see her. Do I run? Do I say hi? Do I beg? Do I stand up and talk to her?
I don't know.
I don't know anything.
And I realize it's true. I don't know anything about this place. About her life. Maybe even about her. I don't know what she'll do once she sees me. I don't know if she even will acknowledge my presence. I don't know if she'll listen to me. And I don't know what I'll say to her.
I stand up, fast. I head for the doors. I need to get out of here. Out of this place, out of this moment. I walk through the doors and I stand there, outside, alone, breathing in the fresh morning air.
I take in all the buildings around me. With my eyes I follow the hospital sign.
UCLA.
She's working here.
And then I see her. A girl, much like me, like I was when I was still an intern. Scared and excited about walking through the hospital doors. Ready to face another day, another challenge. Brave.
I used to be brave too.
I turn around and make a beeline to the nurses station. My eyes on the floor tiles.
I'm gonna do it.
"Hello, how can I help you" he's young, and his brown eyes look reassuring.
"Hi, I was looking for a doctor. I've been told I could find her here"
"What's the name?" he asks as he readies himself to type on the computer board to find whoever I might need.
"Hahn. Erica Hahn."
His fingers don't move. He looks up at me. Smiles. His fingers don't move.
I know he's gonna tell me she doesn't work here, that I just sat there for an hour looking at a world that isn't hers. And I feel my hands shaking.
"Fifth floor. The corridor on the right. You'll find her there"
My feet move on the floor tiles faster than my mind. And it takes me a while to realize I'm walking to her.
I'm gonna step into that elevator, press that button, and then I'll be there.
It's as simple as that. And it's not simple at all.
I'm nervous. And happy. And excited. And terrified. I'm all those things and more, all at once.
I'm glad I'm not alone in the elevator. The temptation to press the emergency stop button would have been too much.
And since I've known that she's here my eyes keep seeing her in everybody I walk by. My ears keep hearing her voice. I keep breathing in her scent.
I'm going crazy.
The people push past me and I realize that I've reached her floor.
On the right, he said.
A door at the end of the corridor. And I believe even from this distance I can make out the letters of her name on the door.
The closer I get to it the worse I feel. I'm afraid I'm going to throw up on her.
'E. Hahn HTMD.' the door reads.
Of course he didn't need to look on the computer to know where her office would be.
Heart Transplant program Medical Director.
She's the chief.
She was at Seattle Grace too, the chief of Cardiothoracic surgery, sure, but this.. this is like ... she's the chief of this whole wing of the hospital. She's the chief of Cardio at the best hospital in the United States.
And I feel so small.
My hand trembles as I lift it to knock on it's surface.
I hesitate. I swallow. I have to do it.
I knock.
Silence is the only answer. I'm shaking for the nerves, I feel my eye twitch because of it, I stand there and just wait.
My head falls back and I let out a little bitter laugh. She's not here.
I shake my head as I turn to walk that corridor once again. As I turn to go.
I'm angry at her. I came all the way here to talk to her and she's not here.
And of course she couldn't have known that I was going to show up today, but still. I'm angry.
And I'm angry at myself too, for having though that being here would be enough, that she'd be waiting for me, that she'd be willing to even talk to me.
I really thought that today would change us.
I had gotten out of bed this morning thinking that it would. That I would take my life in my own hands and it would make a difference.
After the night of dancing, we had gotten home and Addison had showed me the mail of her friend in which were all the information I needed to find Erica. I read it greedily and was ready to come here right then, but then I realized that it was three in the morning, that I smelled like smoke and alcohol, and that Erica would have kicked me out of here on my ass if I had shown up like that. So I showered, I got in bed, I planned everything, going over it in my mind a million times so that it would be perfect. I planned what I'd wear, what dress, what make up, what jewelry, everything, down to the last detail. But I never planned this.
I never planned to be standing here, defeated and ready to go home. To give up.
I hear the door to the elevator open, and I distractedly lift my head, ready to get into it.
Blue eyes.
Staring at me.
And my world stops.
"Erica..."
Author: Spooky85
Pairing: Callie/Erica
Rating: Pg
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Notes: Sorry it took me so long to update, and it's a short chapter too. But I can safely promise you I'll be posting the next chapter on monday, to make up for the long wait. Hope you won't be too disappointed...
Prologue__Denial________ -_____Epilogue___(???)
Chapter1__Shock________ -_____Chapter15__(???)
Chapter2__depression____ -_____Chapter14__(???)
Chapter3__rebound______ -_____Chapter13__(???)
Chapter4__revulsion______ -_____Chapter12__(???)
Chapter5__secrets_______ -_____Chapter11__(???)
Chapter6__memories_____ -_____Chapter10__(???)
Chapter7__disillusionment_ - _____Chapter9__(expectations)
_______________Chapter8_The Bridge___________
*Chapter9*
Ever since I started dreaming of being a surgeon, my sights have always been set on Seattle Grace.
I remember the first time I heard of it I had just been admitted to med school.
I knew I loved medicine, I knew I loved science, but I still had no idea what I wanted to specialize in. I liked most of my classes and were good at the majority of them too, but none of them had picked my interest.
General surgery looked good, many organs to operate on, many challenges. On the downside, however were the sheer boredom of appendectomies. Plastics I never even considered. Too stupid and shallow for me. Neuro wasn't bad, it was neuro surgeons I couldn't get around. Too full of themselves, too superior for my taste. At first I thought I was gonna go with Cardio. It had always fascinated me, but the first heart surgery I witnessed bored me to tears.
I needed something faster, rougher.
So when news reached the halls of my university that an astonishingly new technique was going to be implemented at Seattle Grace to recreate a man's chest, my interest was caught.
The car accident had been so bad that each and every one of the man's ribs had been broken.
A whole new set of ribs. When our Ortho professor asked us who wanted to sign up for an opportunity to watch this surgery I remember that my signature was first on the list.
And that was the day I fell in love with Ortho.
Seattle Grace had become my dream.
I studied hard to get the best grades. I graduated with top marks and my letter of internship to Seattle had been mailed as soon I could officially be called a doctor.
The first time I walked into that hospital my heart stopped. It was beautiful, even more so than when I had first walked it's floors all those years before.
Filled with people and movement, it was alive. With the best staff in the country it ranked as a level one trauma and transplant center. Everybody I knew wanted to get in the program. And I had been chosen. I was proud. Of myself. Of my life. Of all the sacrifices I had made to get there.
I finally had something real to make me feel good about myself. I had no idea what working in a hospital was supposed to be like. Performing procedures I'd only ever read in books.
So it didn't shock me that everybody seemed to know everybody's business around there. That the rumor mill was as buzzing with activity as the ER. When news of a relationship between one of my fellow interns and a surgeon broke out I wasn't surprised.
Seattle Grace was the best hospital to be working at, but it was the worst to keep your private life private.
I kept my distance, only caring about my studies, trying not to fuel rumors with my behavior. I would go to work, do my job, assist my Resident in every procedure we came across, and then I would go home. Or rather down the basement.
Toxic Torres. My latest nickname. I knew every nurse was calling me that. And some of my colleagues too. But I didn't care. I wasn't there to make friends. I was there to become the best surgeon I possibly could.
And I did.
Only I guess along the line I let the gossip seep into me. I became the Seattle Grace drama queen faster than I could say 'I do'
My marriage to George one week, and then divorcing him not even a month after our vows, granted me that title.
One minute I was a kickass ortho resident, the next I was a wife. And then a divorcee. And then chief resident And then I was fired. And the a cage fighter ready to kill Stevens over George. And then a weird freak who would beat up on patient's family members and stand in the rain crying.
I had made a mess out of my life in less than two months.
I just wanted to lay low.
I would walk the hospital halls and hear whispers behind my back. I'd walk into a room and conversation would immediately stop. Everybody knew about me and everybody had a theory about it. I was crazy. I was a bitch. I was plotting to kill Stevens. Or George. Or both. I was an alcoholic. I was a drug addict. I was on depression meds.
When I took two days off work because of the flu, everybody started talking about my suicide attempt.
It was crazy. It was suffocating. It was my hospital.
So as I sit here and look around me, I'm astounded.
This place is big, huge. It's full of people, but there's none of the noise that resonates through Seattle Grace's corridors.
The light as it filters from the ceiling high windows, reflecting the light blue color of it's walls, covers this place with a veil of beauty and silence.
The nurses station is surrounded by doctors rushing around each other in a well choreographed dance. Everybody knows exactly what they are supposed to do, and they mingle beautifully.
People talk to each other with a smile on their faces and there is no venomous whispering once their backs are turned.
These people are doctors. Professionals. Unlike the place I come from, the freak show it has become.
I see how Erica would like it here.
I'm waiting. I don't know what I'm waiting for, but I am.
I came in here almost an hour ago and all I've done has been sitting here and look around me.
Am I looking for her? I don't know. But I know that she works here. Addison told me. I know that at any given moment she could walk out one of those doors, talk to one of those people, pick up one of those charts.
What will I do once I see her. Do I run? Do I say hi? Do I beg? Do I stand up and talk to her?
I don't know.
I don't know anything.
And I realize it's true. I don't know anything about this place. About her life. Maybe even about her. I don't know what she'll do once she sees me. I don't know if she even will acknowledge my presence. I don't know if she'll listen to me. And I don't know what I'll say to her.
I stand up, fast. I head for the doors. I need to get out of here. Out of this place, out of this moment. I walk through the doors and I stand there, outside, alone, breathing in the fresh morning air.
I take in all the buildings around me. With my eyes I follow the hospital sign.
UCLA.
She's working here.
And then I see her. A girl, much like me, like I was when I was still an intern. Scared and excited about walking through the hospital doors. Ready to face another day, another challenge. Brave.
I used to be brave too.
I turn around and make a beeline to the nurses station. My eyes on the floor tiles.
I'm gonna do it.
"Hello, how can I help you" he's young, and his brown eyes look reassuring.
"Hi, I was looking for a doctor. I've been told I could find her here"
"What's the name?" he asks as he readies himself to type on the computer board to find whoever I might need.
"Hahn. Erica Hahn."
His fingers don't move. He looks up at me. Smiles. His fingers don't move.
I know he's gonna tell me she doesn't work here, that I just sat there for an hour looking at a world that isn't hers. And I feel my hands shaking.
"Fifth floor. The corridor on the right. You'll find her there"
My feet move on the floor tiles faster than my mind. And it takes me a while to realize I'm walking to her.
I'm gonna step into that elevator, press that button, and then I'll be there.
It's as simple as that. And it's not simple at all.
I'm nervous. And happy. And excited. And terrified. I'm all those things and more, all at once.
I'm glad I'm not alone in the elevator. The temptation to press the emergency stop button would have been too much.
And since I've known that she's here my eyes keep seeing her in everybody I walk by. My ears keep hearing her voice. I keep breathing in her scent.
I'm going crazy.
The people push past me and I realize that I've reached her floor.
On the right, he said.
A door at the end of the corridor. And I believe even from this distance I can make out the letters of her name on the door.
The closer I get to it the worse I feel. I'm afraid I'm going to throw up on her.
'E. Hahn HTMD.' the door reads.
Of course he didn't need to look on the computer to know where her office would be.
Heart Transplant program Medical Director.
She's the chief.
She was at Seattle Grace too, the chief of Cardiothoracic surgery, sure, but this.. this is like ... she's the chief of this whole wing of the hospital. She's the chief of Cardio at the best hospital in the United States.
And I feel so small.
My hand trembles as I lift it to knock on it's surface.
I hesitate. I swallow. I have to do it.
I knock.
Silence is the only answer. I'm shaking for the nerves, I feel my eye twitch because of it, I stand there and just wait.
My head falls back and I let out a little bitter laugh. She's not here.
I shake my head as I turn to walk that corridor once again. As I turn to go.
I'm angry at her. I came all the way here to talk to her and she's not here.
And of course she couldn't have known that I was going to show up today, but still. I'm angry.
And I'm angry at myself too, for having though that being here would be enough, that she'd be waiting for me, that she'd be willing to even talk to me.
I really thought that today would change us.
I had gotten out of bed this morning thinking that it would. That I would take my life in my own hands and it would make a difference.
After the night of dancing, we had gotten home and Addison had showed me the mail of her friend in which were all the information I needed to find Erica. I read it greedily and was ready to come here right then, but then I realized that it was three in the morning, that I smelled like smoke and alcohol, and that Erica would have kicked me out of here on my ass if I had shown up like that. So I showered, I got in bed, I planned everything, going over it in my mind a million times so that it would be perfect. I planned what I'd wear, what dress, what make up, what jewelry, everything, down to the last detail. But I never planned this.
I never planned to be standing here, defeated and ready to go home. To give up.
I hear the door to the elevator open, and I distractedly lift my head, ready to get into it.
Blue eyes.
Staring at me.
And my world stops.
"Erica..."