(no subject)
Title: Ready For A Fall (5/?)
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairing: Addison/Mark, Callie/George, Callie/Alex (friendship), George/Izzie (implied)
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to fall, but if you're lucky someone may catch you. And they may be falling, too.
A/N: This chapter was hard, hard, hard to write and I hope that it's believable. I researched for HOURS. :)
One
Two
Three
Four
Where will you go after me
Where will you go after I set you free
If it was this easy to find you
I should be ready for a fall
I should be ready for a fall
*~*~*~*~*~
Callie was leaving the liquor store when her cell vibrated against her hip. She checked the number and smiled a little before she answered. "Rick’s Pool Hall. Eight ball, speaking."
"How’s my favorite twin?"
"I’m your only twin, Cam." Callie put the bottle in the back seat of her open convertible and leaned against the car. "How’s my favorite brother?"
"Oooooh," Cam replied. "I’m telling Loukas and Stavros that you said that."
"We shared a womb. You wouldn’t do that to me."
"I was born first, little sister."
"With all the wisdom and knowledge that six whole minutes gave you," she laughed. "Why don’t you tell me what’s new?"
"Why are you screening your calls? Our mother is so pissed at you that she has taken our family photo down from the mantle and put one up of Loukas and Stavros from before we were born."
"Jesus, Cam. What did you do to piss her off?"
"Well, I’m still gay. And I’m bringing Blake to your elopement party."
Callie started to laugh and then her face fell. "To my what?"
"Elopement party. The one that she has been planning for weeks now."
"What? When?"
"This is why you shouldn’t screen your calls. Not this Saturday night, but next. Mom has three jets bringing our dearest and most annoying relatives, but my invitation was lost in the mail apparently. Blake predicted it would be. Dad went behind her back and put us on the last flight out. They’re on the first."
"That’s only two weeks! We have to stop it."
"Yeah, because Mama running us through with her grandfather’s sword would be a pleasant way to die," Cam chuckled. "Besides, Dad said that he talked to your husband and ... do you know how weird that is for me? You have a husband! Anyway, he talked to him a few minutes ago and he’s okay with it."
"Daddy talked to George?"
"Yeah. I guess he’s not screening *his* calls."
There was a long pause and Cam finally added, "Hey, are you okay?"
"Yeah ... I’m fine."
"You sound upset?"
"No." Callie swallowed hard and wiped the tears off her face as if he could somehow see them. "I - allergies or whatever."
"Here’s the part where I remind you that I know you better than I know myself. Now, talk."
"Rough week."
"What’s wrong? Married life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?"
"Something like that."
"You want me to beat him up?"
"I already did that." The tears were coming a little faster now. "Cam?"
"Yeah?"
"I made a mistake. I - I shouldn’t have married him."
"What happened?"
"He doesn’t love me."
"Well, now that’s not humanly possible. Does he know you? Has he seen you? Of course he loves you," he soothed. "Look, I’m no expert on marriage and since our entire lack of a President refuses to let me marry Blake then I can’t really comment on your marriage, but relationships ... I know relationships. And they’re hard and it’s a constant struggle."
"He cheated on me." When there was no reply, Callie put her head in her free hand and said. "Cam? Cambyses Torres, you cannot tell. You can’t tell Daddy. He’ll - he’ll kill him."
"No. He’s not going to get the chance. I’m flying out tonight."
"No! Don’t! Okay? My life is complicated enough right now. I can’t - I can’t do this. I’m gonna see a lawyer and - and get a divorce or -"
"Oh my god," he said. "Mama would forgive you for murder before she forgave you for that! You know how she is! Do you remember when we stole Uncle Kakistos’s boat and sank it?"
"You mean his yacht and how could I possibly forget almost dying to save your flailing ass."
"There could have been sharks."
"I’m sure you scared them off with said flailing."
"My point is that she buried our pictures in the back yard, Callie. She made Loukas and Stavros dress up for a funeral and pretended we were dead for eighteen months. She didn’t speak to us, she refused to eat with us, and told everyone that we were on vacation in Italy even though we standing right there for introductions."
Callie had to smile a little at the memory. "She called us hired help."
"And we were only ten. She’ll never talk to you again. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"
"Yeah. And no. I mean - I hate him and I want to strangle him with my bare hands ... and I also love him so much it hurts." She didn’t try to hide her sobs now. "I can’t - I can’t even look at him and not want to let him apologize and make it better and fall asleep on his shoulder like I always do. Like I did. I mean, talking about us in the past tense is killing me and he keeps crying and begging and saying he’s sorry and God I want to believe it and I keep falling into him every single time he looks at me and I can’t - I can’t breathe when I’m near him. And I’m choking to death without him. What do I do? What am I supposed to do, Cam?"
"Oh, sweetie," he replied, his voice soft. "Only you can decide what you want to do. I can’t - I don’t know what to say. I can only tell you Mama has thrown herself into planning this party and you know that she had your wedding planned from birth so this is all she has. She pulled out all the stops, Cal. It’s gonna be huge. She hired a band, catered in enough food to feed a third world country, and she’s determined to accept this elopement thing. If you tell her that it’s off it’s gonna hurt her and I don’t always like our mother, but I do live in the same zipcode as her and I saw first hand how much it hurt her when you broke the news that you had gotten married to begin with. She’s taking a huge step by doing this."
"So, you think I should pretend to be happy and smile and pose with him for photos and act like I’m not dying inside."
"Honestly? Yeah, I do. It’s one night. What you decide to do after that is up to you. And I really want to see you and the only way Dad’s letting me off is if I’m coming there for the party."
"Okay."
"I’ll still beat him up if you want."
"Nah, just promise me the first salsa."
"Are you kidding? I claim the first and last salsa." Cam sighed a little. "I love you, kid."
"I love you, too. Don’t tell anybody. Okay?"
"I promise."
They said their goodbyes and Callie closed the phone. Drying her face, she opened the car door and the lone bottle of bourbon she had purchased caught her eye. With a determined nod, she closed the door and headed back into the liquor store to buy the biggest bottle they had. She was drowning anyway. Miserable. Lost. Her tears were coming and she couldn’t stop them.
But maybe she could delay them for a while by swimming to the bottom of the bottle and she knew that when she was there ... nothing would hurt anymore.
Fifteen minutes later, she parked her car in her designated spot in the deck beside the Archfield. It was hot and humid inside the cement walls after the afternoon shower that had come and gone earlier. The top was down on her car and she left it running, letting the air blow into her face as she opened the smaller of the two bottles, took a deep breath, and drank down over half. She grimaced, gagged a little, and drew the back of her hand over her mouth. Before she could change her mind she tipped the bottle again and in less than fifteen minutes, the bourbon was gone and the second, larger bottle, was giving her a hard time. After three tries, she finally got it open and took a few pulls.
Thirty minutes later the car was spinning and the only logical allowance her brain would concede was to crawl into the backseat and lie down.
It never dawned on her that the engine was still running.
*~*~*~*~*~
Addison pulled her tongue away from the roof of her mouth and grimaced. Something had woken her up and as she opened her bloodshot eyes and looked around, someone pounded on the door again. She rolled onto her back, her arms flung wide and stared up at the ceiling. Whoever was at the door was persistent and she groaned when her feet hit the floor and she attempted to lift her head off the pillow. It was heavy, so heavy that her neck protested angrily and then her stomach muscles joined the chorus and gave her a stark, visual reminder of the marathon projectile vomit that she had managed the night before.
She smiled a little. She’d have to tell Callie about the - And then the memories of the night before hit her like a sledgehammer. She looked at the sofa and saw that it was empty and there was no sign of the blanket George had used. She could have imagined it, but as she stood and saw the array of junkfood Callie had arrived with she knew it was not her imagination at all. With a groan, she put her hand over her mouth and shook her head.
"Addison?" Mark knocked again, harder now. "I can hear you. Open the door."
She stumbled across the room and let him in. "I have to go talk to Callie."
He caught her around the waist as she started past him and said, "You may want to talk to the mirror first."
"What?"
He pointed at the floor to ceiling mirrors on the far wall. Addison turned and gasped. She wore a tanktop and panties, her usual sleeping gear, but her hair was plastered to her cheek and her make up had not only run, something that looked suspiciously like vomit had dried on her chest. "Damn," she said and slowly crept forward for a closer look. "What did I do?"
Mark pulled the cover back on her bed and wrinkled his nose. "Where do you put it all, Addison? Because for five hours I watched you puke so how you managed to do it again is beyond me."
"Ugh," she groaned again. "My stomach is killing me."
"You turned it inside out. It should." He stripped the sheets off and picked up the phone, leaving a message for housekeeping. "Go take a shower."
"Did you talk to her?"
Mark didn’t have to ask who the ‘her’ in question was. "Yep. She’s pissed as hell."
"What did she say?"
"Not a lot. She wouldn’t tell me what the two of you fought about either."
"It was too stupid to ever mention again."
"Look, if you ladies want to fight over me I can understand."
Addison shot him a look and pretended to vomit. "You wish."
"Then you must be fighting over O’Malley. I guess she wasn’t thrilled to see you taking care of the enemy."
"Stop trying to figure it out, jackass."
"Ohhh, that’s exactly what she called me." Mark sat down at the table and opened a package of donuts. "I’m starving. Will you go get ready?"
"For what?"
"You need to eat. And the fact that I am brave enough to take you out after witnessing firsthand that you can’t hold anything down should prove to you that I really do love you, Addison."
"I hate love!" Addison snapped, yanking her closet open. She dug through until she found a pair of slacks and a shirt and then turned to face him again. "You stayed last night."
"Through it all. The hair holding. The consoling. I can take care of you. I’m not just good in bed -- I’m a good best friend."
"Callie’s my best friend."
"I don’t think she’s seeing it that way right now." He watched as Addison’s face fell, then stood and took her hand in his. "That’s not to say she won’t come around. The sooner you get a shower we can go and you can call her. I’ll even play referee if you want."
"Do you really mean it, Mark? When you say that you love me?"
"I haven’t had sex in twenty seven days. And last night when you crawled into my lap in the bathroom floor and I put my arms around you ... it felt like coming home. I’ve loved you for a long time and you’re the only person in the world that makes me want to be the person you think I should be." He pulled a string of matted hair from her face, and cupped her cheek. "I love you. You’re the reason I’m here, the reason I stayed, and the woman that I want to spend my life with. Of course, I prefer the cleaner version, but I’d take you this way if it was the only way you’d come."
She smiled a little and said, "I don’t know if that was sincere or sexual, but it was nicely done."
"It was both. Want some company in the shower? Maybe I can take care of those hard to reach areas."
Addison bit her bottom lip and hated the way he smiled at her, hated the way his hand traced her chin, hated the way he smelled so familiar and safe. She nodded her head before her mouth could protest and turned, knowing that a decision had been made and she prayed it was for the right reasons.
*~*~*~*~*~
"Holy Mary Mother of God. Stop ringing! Hello?"
"Callie?"
"Who said that?"
"It’s Alex. Are - what are you doing? Are you crying?"
Callie sniffled. When she finally spoke it was a sob. "Why am I not in a coma yet? Stop waking me up now. Okay. Bye."
"What!? Don’t hang up! Where are you?"
"In my car. I’m gonna run out of gas."
"Where’s your car, Callie?"
"Archfield."
"I’m on my way. Gimme fifteen minutes."
"Don’t bother."
"Is that your car running that I hear?"
"Don’t worry. I haven’t died in an hour of trying so it’s not likely to happen in fifteen minutes. Jesus hates me." As an afterthought, she added. "Fuck clean air."
"Turn the car off."
"Okay."
"Do it now."
"Okay." Callie, who was sprawled face down in the backseat of her car made no attempt at moving.
"You didn’t do it, did you?"
"Not really."
"I’ll be right there." Alex hung up and called Addison’s cell.
Moments later Callie’s car was turned off and she felt a hand on her back, then her hair was pushed away from her face. Even in her drunken stupor she recognized Addison’s red hair, although the face was a blur. "Not funny, God. And I’ve been praying, too! Damn it."
"What the hell are you trying to do?" Addison shook her, hard. "Get your ass up."
"Stop driving in a circle, Addy. It’s rude. And there are speed bumps!"
"Jesus." Mark opened the passenger door and sat down, peering into the backseat with Addison. "How much did you drink, Torres?"
It was work, but Callie managed to wrestle the empty bottle from beneath her and she held it out. Her eyes were out of focus when they landed on Mark. "Hey! I did die! I’m in hell and Satan’s here, too."
"She’s toast." Mark took the bottle from her and said, "Did you drink all of this."
"That was my second bottle, right? Was it two? Didn’t even breathe! Just choked it down." Callie nodded, then she belched and found it so funny that she practically rolled off the backseat.
"That’s too much alcohol too fast. She needs to throw up," Addison said.
Mark pushed the seat forward and gripped Callie under the arms. She put up a good fight and by the time Mark had her out of the car he was winded and she had slumped onto the pavement. Addison, who had joined them, kneeled down beside Callie and felt her skin. "She’s cold."
"Don’t you call me any more names, Addison!" Callie growled, pushing her hands away. "I would punch you in the eye if you would be still. You are a very, very bad friend and I hope your tits sag."
"There is nothing wrong with my tits and your very, very bad friend is going to stick her finger down your throat to help you out." Doing just that, Addison tilted the younger woman forward and waited for her gag reflex to kick in.
When three attempts yielded nothing, Addison frowned. It took a split second for it to dawn on her that Callie wasn’t moving, wasn’t struggling, and she pulled her upright, slapping her face. "She’s not breathing. Mark, she’s choking!"
Mark moved fast. He pulled Callie from Addison’s arms, pinned her back against his chest, and began the Heimlich maneuver. Callie spasmed, coughed and vomited, effectively clearing her airway which had been blocked. "We have to get her to the ER."
Alex squealed to a stop a few feet away from them and leapt from his jeep. "How is she?" he asked, tilting her head back. She was still in Mark’s arms and her head lolled from one side to the other. "What did she drink?"
"A fifth of bourbon for sure. She mentioned more." Addison reached for the second bottle and drew up short. There was an empty pill bottle lying in the back seat. She picked it up, glanced at the label, and said, "Get her in the car."
"What?"
"Get her in the car! NOW!"
Alex and Mark both saw the empty bottle at the same time and Alex grabbed Callie’s feet, helping Mark lift her over the side of her convertible, which was thankfully open. Alex jumped into the driver’s seat and sped away with her as Addison and Mark climbed in Alex’s jeep to follow. Alex ran two red lights, almost hit a parked car, and took the entrance to the hospital fast enough for the tires to protest loudly. He slammed to a halt at the entrance to the emergency room and was relieved to see that there was a stretcher waiting. Someone must have called ahead.
"Possible overdose." Alex said, as he lifted her out of the car and deposited her on the gurney.
Dr. Bailey gasped and looked down at Callie. "What the- Karev? What did she take?"
"Fifth of bourbon and -- and, shit, I don’t know! Addison’s bringing the bottle."
He helped Bailey push her inside and yanked his jacket off. Without being told, he started an IV and drew her blood himself. He was vaguely aware that Izzie was on duty and that she had been shouted at by Bailey to move her ass. He took a step back as Cristina and Meredith answered the same page that had apparently summoned Izzie. "Meredith?"
"Yeah?"
"Call George," Alex said softly, running a hand over his hair.
"I already did."
"Callie? Callie, open your eyes and talk to me." Bailey slapped her cheeks a couple of times. "Unresponsive. Her skin is blue, clammy. What’s the temperature, Stevens?"
Izzie rattled off a number that was incredibly low and Bailey began barking out orders to the three female interns. Meredith was sent for warming blankets. Cristina rushed out for a gastric lavage kit and Izzie was sent running to the lab with Callie’s blood. Addison arrived in the middle of the chaos and said, "Percocet. Prescription was for forty. Prescribed to Harold O’Malley."
Bailey nodded and began the insertion of the tubes into Callie’s nose. Callie choked then and it took Mark, Alex, and Addison to hold her down. The vomiting began almost instantly and they rolled her onto her side, watching as she retched and heaved. Then, before anyone could stop her, she pulled the tube out and her nose, which was still swollen and bruised, and blood began to pour from it and her mouth. Alex stared at the monitors as they began to beep and said, "Oxygen level is at eighty five."
"Damn it. There’s too much blood in the airway." Bailey snapped. "Yang, we’ll need a breathing tube before we try to lavage again."
Cristina was on it. She tilted Callie’s head back, inserted the breathing tube on the first try and began to pump the bag, watching as Callie’s levels rose into the nineties. "Clear."
"Let’s do this again." Bailey opened the second kit, which Addison had grabbed from the hallway and covered the hosing in lubricant. "Hold her down this time, people. Hold her down! On three now. One, two, three."
Callie didn’t gag this time.
She didn’t respond at all.
"Grey, rush the fluid." Mark said, taking the stethoscope from Meredith’s neck. "Get an EKG in here. Stat," he barked at Izzie, who had returned.
"Addison, get on the phone with the lab," Bailey said, leaning down to examine the bile that Callie had vomited onto the floor. "I don’t see anything solid. Yang, how’s the suction."
"Second collection. First was liquid, no solid."
Bailey stood and shook Callie, leaning close to her. "Callie! Did you take any medication?" She spoke again and again, but Callie didn’t move. Checking her blood pressure, Miranda swore under her breath. "Where is that EKG, people!?"
"Her blood alcohol is point thirty-three," Addison said, hanging up the phone. "So far they haven’t found anything else."
"Point thirty-three? What in the world-" Bailey began.
"Callie?!" George shouted from the hallway.
"Keep him out of here." Bailey looked at Alex, but it was Addison who intercepted him.
"George, I need you to stay here with me," she said, her hand on his chest.
"No. NO! What happened?"
"Listen to me," Addison snapped, holding up the empty bottle. "What do you know about this?"
He took the bottle and read the label. "It - it was my dad’s. It was in a box of his stuff that I brought home after - after he died."
"Was it empty?"
"What?"
"The bottle, George. Were there any pills in the bottle?"
"I don’t know. I-" George’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him. "What did she do? What did she do?! Dr. Montgomery?!"
"Right now we know that she has alcohol poisoning. We’re waiting on the toxicology. This bottle was with her in the car."
"In the car?"
"Yeah. In the car. In the car that was running in the parking garage of the Archfield." Alex, who had lingered in the doorway to hear what George had to say about the medication, glared at the other man. "What the hell did you do to her now?"
"Shut up, Alex. And go call the lab again!" Addison pushed George out of the way as the EKG machine was rolled past them.
George leaned back against the wall, his hand over his mouth. "How bad is it?" he finally asked.
"Her B.A.C. is point thirty-three."
"No. No. That can’t be right. That - that can be fatal. Addison, that can be fatal." He shook his head emphatically as if his own denial could make it untrue. "Are they-"
"They’re doing everything they can. You know they are."
"Who’s working on her?"
"Sloan and Bailey."
"Is she breathing on her own?"
Addison shook her head, then caught him as he tried to rush past her. "You can’t do anything."
Meredith joined them in the hallway and said, "Dr. Montgomery, you can go back inside. I’ll stay with him."
Grateful, Addison nodded and squeezed George’s hand before hurrying back into the room. Meredith leaned against the wall next to George and leaned her head against his shoulder. "She’s strong. She’s strong and she’ll come back."
"You don’t know that."
"I’ve been there, George. She’ll come back."
"They’re breathing for her."
"Only because she pulled the tube out and compromised her airway."
George looked at her. "She’s awake. So she’s responding?"
"It - it was instinct. To pull it out. She’s unconscious."
"But - what about her heart and was she - didn’t she -"
Meredith took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "Should you call someone? Do you think you should call her parents?"
Callie had told him enough about her mother and father to force him to shake his head. She would be mortified if, no ... when she woke up and found them there. He needed to call someone, though. He needed to hear someone who would not judge him, not be angry at him. Taking his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans, he called home.
Louise answered on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Mom?"
"Georgie?"
"Mom," he began to cry and sank down the wall, his back against it. "Callie’s in the hospital. Can you - can you come?"
"I’m on my way."
Meredith kneeled beside him and put her arms around him.
When Derek walked past them a few minutes later and went into Callie’s room, neither had to wonder why.
*~*~*~*~*~
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairing: Addison/Mark, Callie/George, Callie/Alex (friendship), George/Izzie (implied)
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to fall, but if you're lucky someone may catch you. And they may be falling, too.
A/N: This chapter was hard, hard, hard to write and I hope that it's believable. I researched for HOURS. :)
One
Two
Three
Four
Where will you go after me
Where will you go after I set you free
If it was this easy to find you
I should be ready for a fall
I should be ready for a fall
*~*~*~*~*~
Callie was leaving the liquor store when her cell vibrated against her hip. She checked the number and smiled a little before she answered. "Rick’s Pool Hall. Eight ball, speaking."
"How’s my favorite twin?"
"I’m your only twin, Cam." Callie put the bottle in the back seat of her open convertible and leaned against the car. "How’s my favorite brother?"
"Oooooh," Cam replied. "I’m telling Loukas and Stavros that you said that."
"We shared a womb. You wouldn’t do that to me."
"I was born first, little sister."
"With all the wisdom and knowledge that six whole minutes gave you," she laughed. "Why don’t you tell me what’s new?"
"Why are you screening your calls? Our mother is so pissed at you that she has taken our family photo down from the mantle and put one up of Loukas and Stavros from before we were born."
"Jesus, Cam. What did you do to piss her off?"
"Well, I’m still gay. And I’m bringing Blake to your elopement party."
Callie started to laugh and then her face fell. "To my what?"
"Elopement party. The one that she has been planning for weeks now."
"What? When?"
"This is why you shouldn’t screen your calls. Not this Saturday night, but next. Mom has three jets bringing our dearest and most annoying relatives, but my invitation was lost in the mail apparently. Blake predicted it would be. Dad went behind her back and put us on the last flight out. They’re on the first."
"That’s only two weeks! We have to stop it."
"Yeah, because Mama running us through with her grandfather’s sword would be a pleasant way to die," Cam chuckled. "Besides, Dad said that he talked to your husband and ... do you know how weird that is for me? You have a husband! Anyway, he talked to him a few minutes ago and he’s okay with it."
"Daddy talked to George?"
"Yeah. I guess he’s not screening *his* calls."
There was a long pause and Cam finally added, "Hey, are you okay?"
"Yeah ... I’m fine."
"You sound upset?"
"No." Callie swallowed hard and wiped the tears off her face as if he could somehow see them. "I - allergies or whatever."
"Here’s the part where I remind you that I know you better than I know myself. Now, talk."
"Rough week."
"What’s wrong? Married life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?"
"Something like that."
"You want me to beat him up?"
"I already did that." The tears were coming a little faster now. "Cam?"
"Yeah?"
"I made a mistake. I - I shouldn’t have married him."
"What happened?"
"He doesn’t love me."
"Well, now that’s not humanly possible. Does he know you? Has he seen you? Of course he loves you," he soothed. "Look, I’m no expert on marriage and since our entire lack of a President refuses to let me marry Blake then I can’t really comment on your marriage, but relationships ... I know relationships. And they’re hard and it’s a constant struggle."
"He cheated on me." When there was no reply, Callie put her head in her free hand and said. "Cam? Cambyses Torres, you cannot tell. You can’t tell Daddy. He’ll - he’ll kill him."
"No. He’s not going to get the chance. I’m flying out tonight."
"No! Don’t! Okay? My life is complicated enough right now. I can’t - I can’t do this. I’m gonna see a lawyer and - and get a divorce or -"
"Oh my god," he said. "Mama would forgive you for murder before she forgave you for that! You know how she is! Do you remember when we stole Uncle Kakistos’s boat and sank it?"
"You mean his yacht and how could I possibly forget almost dying to save your flailing ass."
"There could have been sharks."
"I’m sure you scared them off with said flailing."
"My point is that she buried our pictures in the back yard, Callie. She made Loukas and Stavros dress up for a funeral and pretended we were dead for eighteen months. She didn’t speak to us, she refused to eat with us, and told everyone that we were on vacation in Italy even though we standing right there for introductions."
Callie had to smile a little at the memory. "She called us hired help."
"And we were only ten. She’ll never talk to you again. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"
"Yeah. And no. I mean - I hate him and I want to strangle him with my bare hands ... and I also love him so much it hurts." She didn’t try to hide her sobs now. "I can’t - I can’t even look at him and not want to let him apologize and make it better and fall asleep on his shoulder like I always do. Like I did. I mean, talking about us in the past tense is killing me and he keeps crying and begging and saying he’s sorry and God I want to believe it and I keep falling into him every single time he looks at me and I can’t - I can’t breathe when I’m near him. And I’m choking to death without him. What do I do? What am I supposed to do, Cam?"
"Oh, sweetie," he replied, his voice soft. "Only you can decide what you want to do. I can’t - I don’t know what to say. I can only tell you Mama has thrown herself into planning this party and you know that she had your wedding planned from birth so this is all she has. She pulled out all the stops, Cal. It’s gonna be huge. She hired a band, catered in enough food to feed a third world country, and she’s determined to accept this elopement thing. If you tell her that it’s off it’s gonna hurt her and I don’t always like our mother, but I do live in the same zipcode as her and I saw first hand how much it hurt her when you broke the news that you had gotten married to begin with. She’s taking a huge step by doing this."
"So, you think I should pretend to be happy and smile and pose with him for photos and act like I’m not dying inside."
"Honestly? Yeah, I do. It’s one night. What you decide to do after that is up to you. And I really want to see you and the only way Dad’s letting me off is if I’m coming there for the party."
"Okay."
"I’ll still beat him up if you want."
"Nah, just promise me the first salsa."
"Are you kidding? I claim the first and last salsa." Cam sighed a little. "I love you, kid."
"I love you, too. Don’t tell anybody. Okay?"
"I promise."
They said their goodbyes and Callie closed the phone. Drying her face, she opened the car door and the lone bottle of bourbon she had purchased caught her eye. With a determined nod, she closed the door and headed back into the liquor store to buy the biggest bottle they had. She was drowning anyway. Miserable. Lost. Her tears were coming and she couldn’t stop them.
But maybe she could delay them for a while by swimming to the bottom of the bottle and she knew that when she was there ... nothing would hurt anymore.
Fifteen minutes later, she parked her car in her designated spot in the deck beside the Archfield. It was hot and humid inside the cement walls after the afternoon shower that had come and gone earlier. The top was down on her car and she left it running, letting the air blow into her face as she opened the smaller of the two bottles, took a deep breath, and drank down over half. She grimaced, gagged a little, and drew the back of her hand over her mouth. Before she could change her mind she tipped the bottle again and in less than fifteen minutes, the bourbon was gone and the second, larger bottle, was giving her a hard time. After three tries, she finally got it open and took a few pulls.
Thirty minutes later the car was spinning and the only logical allowance her brain would concede was to crawl into the backseat and lie down.
It never dawned on her that the engine was still running.
*~*~*~*~*~
Addison pulled her tongue away from the roof of her mouth and grimaced. Something had woken her up and as she opened her bloodshot eyes and looked around, someone pounded on the door again. She rolled onto her back, her arms flung wide and stared up at the ceiling. Whoever was at the door was persistent and she groaned when her feet hit the floor and she attempted to lift her head off the pillow. It was heavy, so heavy that her neck protested angrily and then her stomach muscles joined the chorus and gave her a stark, visual reminder of the marathon projectile vomit that she had managed the night before.
She smiled a little. She’d have to tell Callie about the - And then the memories of the night before hit her like a sledgehammer. She looked at the sofa and saw that it was empty and there was no sign of the blanket George had used. She could have imagined it, but as she stood and saw the array of junkfood Callie had arrived with she knew it was not her imagination at all. With a groan, she put her hand over her mouth and shook her head.
"Addison?" Mark knocked again, harder now. "I can hear you. Open the door."
She stumbled across the room and let him in. "I have to go talk to Callie."
He caught her around the waist as she started past him and said, "You may want to talk to the mirror first."
"What?"
He pointed at the floor to ceiling mirrors on the far wall. Addison turned and gasped. She wore a tanktop and panties, her usual sleeping gear, but her hair was plastered to her cheek and her make up had not only run, something that looked suspiciously like vomit had dried on her chest. "Damn," she said and slowly crept forward for a closer look. "What did I do?"
Mark pulled the cover back on her bed and wrinkled his nose. "Where do you put it all, Addison? Because for five hours I watched you puke so how you managed to do it again is beyond me."
"Ugh," she groaned again. "My stomach is killing me."
"You turned it inside out. It should." He stripped the sheets off and picked up the phone, leaving a message for housekeeping. "Go take a shower."
"Did you talk to her?"
Mark didn’t have to ask who the ‘her’ in question was. "Yep. She’s pissed as hell."
"What did she say?"
"Not a lot. She wouldn’t tell me what the two of you fought about either."
"It was too stupid to ever mention again."
"Look, if you ladies want to fight over me I can understand."
Addison shot him a look and pretended to vomit. "You wish."
"Then you must be fighting over O’Malley. I guess she wasn’t thrilled to see you taking care of the enemy."
"Stop trying to figure it out, jackass."
"Ohhh, that’s exactly what she called me." Mark sat down at the table and opened a package of donuts. "I’m starving. Will you go get ready?"
"For what?"
"You need to eat. And the fact that I am brave enough to take you out after witnessing firsthand that you can’t hold anything down should prove to you that I really do love you, Addison."
"I hate love!" Addison snapped, yanking her closet open. She dug through until she found a pair of slacks and a shirt and then turned to face him again. "You stayed last night."
"Through it all. The hair holding. The consoling. I can take care of you. I’m not just good in bed -- I’m a good best friend."
"Callie’s my best friend."
"I don’t think she’s seeing it that way right now." He watched as Addison’s face fell, then stood and took her hand in his. "That’s not to say she won’t come around. The sooner you get a shower we can go and you can call her. I’ll even play referee if you want."
"Do you really mean it, Mark? When you say that you love me?"
"I haven’t had sex in twenty seven days. And last night when you crawled into my lap in the bathroom floor and I put my arms around you ... it felt like coming home. I’ve loved you for a long time and you’re the only person in the world that makes me want to be the person you think I should be." He pulled a string of matted hair from her face, and cupped her cheek. "I love you. You’re the reason I’m here, the reason I stayed, and the woman that I want to spend my life with. Of course, I prefer the cleaner version, but I’d take you this way if it was the only way you’d come."
She smiled a little and said, "I don’t know if that was sincere or sexual, but it was nicely done."
"It was both. Want some company in the shower? Maybe I can take care of those hard to reach areas."
Addison bit her bottom lip and hated the way he smiled at her, hated the way his hand traced her chin, hated the way he smelled so familiar and safe. She nodded her head before her mouth could protest and turned, knowing that a decision had been made and she prayed it was for the right reasons.
*~*~*~*~*~
"Holy Mary Mother of God. Stop ringing! Hello?"
"Callie?"
"Who said that?"
"It’s Alex. Are - what are you doing? Are you crying?"
Callie sniffled. When she finally spoke it was a sob. "Why am I not in a coma yet? Stop waking me up now. Okay. Bye."
"What!? Don’t hang up! Where are you?"
"In my car. I’m gonna run out of gas."
"Where’s your car, Callie?"
"Archfield."
"I’m on my way. Gimme fifteen minutes."
"Don’t bother."
"Is that your car running that I hear?"
"Don’t worry. I haven’t died in an hour of trying so it’s not likely to happen in fifteen minutes. Jesus hates me." As an afterthought, she added. "Fuck clean air."
"Turn the car off."
"Okay."
"Do it now."
"Okay." Callie, who was sprawled face down in the backseat of her car made no attempt at moving.
"You didn’t do it, did you?"
"Not really."
"I’ll be right there." Alex hung up and called Addison’s cell.
Moments later Callie’s car was turned off and she felt a hand on her back, then her hair was pushed away from her face. Even in her drunken stupor she recognized Addison’s red hair, although the face was a blur. "Not funny, God. And I’ve been praying, too! Damn it."
"What the hell are you trying to do?" Addison shook her, hard. "Get your ass up."
"Stop driving in a circle, Addy. It’s rude. And there are speed bumps!"
"Jesus." Mark opened the passenger door and sat down, peering into the backseat with Addison. "How much did you drink, Torres?"
It was work, but Callie managed to wrestle the empty bottle from beneath her and she held it out. Her eyes were out of focus when they landed on Mark. "Hey! I did die! I’m in hell and Satan’s here, too."
"She’s toast." Mark took the bottle from her and said, "Did you drink all of this."
"That was my second bottle, right? Was it two? Didn’t even breathe! Just choked it down." Callie nodded, then she belched and found it so funny that she practically rolled off the backseat.
"That’s too much alcohol too fast. She needs to throw up," Addison said.
Mark pushed the seat forward and gripped Callie under the arms. She put up a good fight and by the time Mark had her out of the car he was winded and she had slumped onto the pavement. Addison, who had joined them, kneeled down beside Callie and felt her skin. "She’s cold."
"Don’t you call me any more names, Addison!" Callie growled, pushing her hands away. "I would punch you in the eye if you would be still. You are a very, very bad friend and I hope your tits sag."
"There is nothing wrong with my tits and your very, very bad friend is going to stick her finger down your throat to help you out." Doing just that, Addison tilted the younger woman forward and waited for her gag reflex to kick in.
When three attempts yielded nothing, Addison frowned. It took a split second for it to dawn on her that Callie wasn’t moving, wasn’t struggling, and she pulled her upright, slapping her face. "She’s not breathing. Mark, she’s choking!"
Mark moved fast. He pulled Callie from Addison’s arms, pinned her back against his chest, and began the Heimlich maneuver. Callie spasmed, coughed and vomited, effectively clearing her airway which had been blocked. "We have to get her to the ER."
Alex squealed to a stop a few feet away from them and leapt from his jeep. "How is she?" he asked, tilting her head back. She was still in Mark’s arms and her head lolled from one side to the other. "What did she drink?"
"A fifth of bourbon for sure. She mentioned more." Addison reached for the second bottle and drew up short. There was an empty pill bottle lying in the back seat. She picked it up, glanced at the label, and said, "Get her in the car."
"What?"
"Get her in the car! NOW!"
Alex and Mark both saw the empty bottle at the same time and Alex grabbed Callie’s feet, helping Mark lift her over the side of her convertible, which was thankfully open. Alex jumped into the driver’s seat and sped away with her as Addison and Mark climbed in Alex’s jeep to follow. Alex ran two red lights, almost hit a parked car, and took the entrance to the hospital fast enough for the tires to protest loudly. He slammed to a halt at the entrance to the emergency room and was relieved to see that there was a stretcher waiting. Someone must have called ahead.
"Possible overdose." Alex said, as he lifted her out of the car and deposited her on the gurney.
Dr. Bailey gasped and looked down at Callie. "What the- Karev? What did she take?"
"Fifth of bourbon and -- and, shit, I don’t know! Addison’s bringing the bottle."
He helped Bailey push her inside and yanked his jacket off. Without being told, he started an IV and drew her blood himself. He was vaguely aware that Izzie was on duty and that she had been shouted at by Bailey to move her ass. He took a step back as Cristina and Meredith answered the same page that had apparently summoned Izzie. "Meredith?"
"Yeah?"
"Call George," Alex said softly, running a hand over his hair.
"I already did."
"Callie? Callie, open your eyes and talk to me." Bailey slapped her cheeks a couple of times. "Unresponsive. Her skin is blue, clammy. What’s the temperature, Stevens?"
Izzie rattled off a number that was incredibly low and Bailey began barking out orders to the three female interns. Meredith was sent for warming blankets. Cristina rushed out for a gastric lavage kit and Izzie was sent running to the lab with Callie’s blood. Addison arrived in the middle of the chaos and said, "Percocet. Prescription was for forty. Prescribed to Harold O’Malley."
Bailey nodded and began the insertion of the tubes into Callie’s nose. Callie choked then and it took Mark, Alex, and Addison to hold her down. The vomiting began almost instantly and they rolled her onto her side, watching as she retched and heaved. Then, before anyone could stop her, she pulled the tube out and her nose, which was still swollen and bruised, and blood began to pour from it and her mouth. Alex stared at the monitors as they began to beep and said, "Oxygen level is at eighty five."
"Damn it. There’s too much blood in the airway." Bailey snapped. "Yang, we’ll need a breathing tube before we try to lavage again."
Cristina was on it. She tilted Callie’s head back, inserted the breathing tube on the first try and began to pump the bag, watching as Callie’s levels rose into the nineties. "Clear."
"Let’s do this again." Bailey opened the second kit, which Addison had grabbed from the hallway and covered the hosing in lubricant. "Hold her down this time, people. Hold her down! On three now. One, two, three."
Callie didn’t gag this time.
She didn’t respond at all.
"Grey, rush the fluid." Mark said, taking the stethoscope from Meredith’s neck. "Get an EKG in here. Stat," he barked at Izzie, who had returned.
"Addison, get on the phone with the lab," Bailey said, leaning down to examine the bile that Callie had vomited onto the floor. "I don’t see anything solid. Yang, how’s the suction."
"Second collection. First was liquid, no solid."
Bailey stood and shook Callie, leaning close to her. "Callie! Did you take any medication?" She spoke again and again, but Callie didn’t move. Checking her blood pressure, Miranda swore under her breath. "Where is that EKG, people!?"
"Her blood alcohol is point thirty-three," Addison said, hanging up the phone. "So far they haven’t found anything else."
"Point thirty-three? What in the world-" Bailey began.
"Callie?!" George shouted from the hallway.
"Keep him out of here." Bailey looked at Alex, but it was Addison who intercepted him.
"George, I need you to stay here with me," she said, her hand on his chest.
"No. NO! What happened?"
"Listen to me," Addison snapped, holding up the empty bottle. "What do you know about this?"
He took the bottle and read the label. "It - it was my dad’s. It was in a box of his stuff that I brought home after - after he died."
"Was it empty?"
"What?"
"The bottle, George. Were there any pills in the bottle?"
"I don’t know. I-" George’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him. "What did she do? What did she do?! Dr. Montgomery?!"
"Right now we know that she has alcohol poisoning. We’re waiting on the toxicology. This bottle was with her in the car."
"In the car?"
"Yeah. In the car. In the car that was running in the parking garage of the Archfield." Alex, who had lingered in the doorway to hear what George had to say about the medication, glared at the other man. "What the hell did you do to her now?"
"Shut up, Alex. And go call the lab again!" Addison pushed George out of the way as the EKG machine was rolled past them.
George leaned back against the wall, his hand over his mouth. "How bad is it?" he finally asked.
"Her B.A.C. is point thirty-three."
"No. No. That can’t be right. That - that can be fatal. Addison, that can be fatal." He shook his head emphatically as if his own denial could make it untrue. "Are they-"
"They’re doing everything they can. You know they are."
"Who’s working on her?"
"Sloan and Bailey."
"Is she breathing on her own?"
Addison shook her head, then caught him as he tried to rush past her. "You can’t do anything."
Meredith joined them in the hallway and said, "Dr. Montgomery, you can go back inside. I’ll stay with him."
Grateful, Addison nodded and squeezed George’s hand before hurrying back into the room. Meredith leaned against the wall next to George and leaned her head against his shoulder. "She’s strong. She’s strong and she’ll come back."
"You don’t know that."
"I’ve been there, George. She’ll come back."
"They’re breathing for her."
"Only because she pulled the tube out and compromised her airway."
George looked at her. "She’s awake. So she’s responding?"
"It - it was instinct. To pull it out. She’s unconscious."
"But - what about her heart and was she - didn’t she -"
Meredith took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "Should you call someone? Do you think you should call her parents?"
Callie had told him enough about her mother and father to force him to shake his head. She would be mortified if, no ... when she woke up and found them there. He needed to call someone, though. He needed to hear someone who would not judge him, not be angry at him. Taking his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans, he called home.
Louise answered on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Mom?"
"Georgie?"
"Mom," he began to cry and sank down the wall, his back against it. "Callie’s in the hospital. Can you - can you come?"
"I’m on my way."
Meredith kneeled beside him and put her arms around him.
When Derek walked past them a few minutes later and went into Callie’s room, neither had to wonder why.
*~*~*~*~*~