(no subject)
Title: Ready For A Fall (9/?)
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairing: Addison/Mark, Callie/George, Callie/Alex (friendship), George/Izzie (implied) Alex/Izzie
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to fall, but if you're lucky someone may catch you. And they may be falling, too.
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
*~*~*~*~*~
"The difference between holding on to a hurt or releasing it with forgiveness is like the difference between laying your head down at night on a pillow filled with thorns or a pillow filled with rosepetals."
---Loren Fischer
The little primate soared through the air toward George’s face, teeth bared. Callie reached up, trying to intercept the animal, but missed. "No!" she cried.
Raphael, who was hoping for as much carnage as possible, moved out of the way. He let the monkey land on George, smiled a little when the young man screeched, and then watched as Gucci ripped at George’s hair. Callie shot from the bed, but Raphael grabbed her around the waist and put a hand over her mouth to keep her from commanding the monkey to cease. Only when he felt her tears on his hand did he bark out an order and the attack finally stopped, but Gucci remain firmly on George’s head.
"Don’t make any sudden movements, George," Raph said in a low, rumbling voice. "He can sever the artery in your neck with one bite. Just one. And I can think of one very good reason why I should let him."
"So can I," Melana agreed. "Perhaps you should instruct him to move a little lower, Raph. I’m sure there’s an artery below the belt that controls what he so obviously can’t."
Callie finally succeeded in pushing her father’s hand away. "Gucci, come," she said through her tears.
"Gucci, stay!" The authority in Raphael’s voice overrode her weak summon and the monkey, though confused, made no move to leave his new perch. "I trusted you, George. You gave me your word that you would take care of my little girl."
"I know," George shakily replied. "And I will."
Callie struggled harder as George lowered his arms and the monkey cried out, agitated by the movement. "He’s bleeding. Daddy, he’s bleeding. Oh, my god."
Raphael narrowed his eyes at George and said, "You’ve got angels on your side, boy. Gucci, come."
The monkey hopped onto Raphael’s hand and Callie broke loose and rushed to her husband, who was dumbstruck, staring at the scratches on the backs of his hands. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was superficial, then cupped his cheek, thumbing away the blood from a small knick. "Are you okay? I am so sorry." He nodded and she turned, nostrils flaring, and shouted at her parents, "How could you do that to him?"
"How could we not?!" Melana demanded. "What’s a few little cuts compared to what he did to you?"
"I thought you understood! You said that violence wasn’t the answer!"
"I understand completely that you’re in love with him." Melana shot back. "And I said that your father shouldn’t resort to violence. I didn’t say anything about Gucci."
"Get out. Go back home and stay the hell away from me!" Callie pointed at the door, which opened.
"What is all that noise?" Bailey asked, walking into the room. "This is a -" Her gaze landed on the monkey, which grinned at her, and she shook her head. "I am not seeing what I think I’m seeing. This is a hospital, people! A hospital! Get that monkey and-"
"He’s a trained service animal," Melana said. "I have epilepsy. He can usually warn me that an attack is coming."
"Uh huh." Bailey had now seen the blood on George’s hands and crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, I can see how trained it is. O’Malley, go down to the clinic and tell Stevens to clean you up."
"No." George shook his head. "I can’t do that." He looked at Callie. Melana had said that Callie was in love with him and that was enough to glue his feet to the floor. "I’m not leaving."
"Then go in the bathroom and wash your hands!" Bailey snapped. She watched as her intern walked past her and shut the bathroom door, then turned her attention to Callie. "Dr. Torres, how are you feeling?"
"Is that a trick question?" Callie wiped at the tears on her face and added, "I’m ready to leave. Can you get the paperwork started?"
"This is not a hotel," Bailey told her. "You don’t decide when you checkout. I do. And you’re not going anywhere until you make your Psych consult. It’s in thirty minutes."
"Oh, come on!"
"Chief Webber explained it to us, mija," Raphael said, handing the monkey off to Melana. "It’s just a precaution. What you did-"
"For the last freakin’ time ... I did not try to kill myself! I had too much to drink! It happens!" Callie was angry, angrier than she could remember being. "And I’m not talking to you, Dad! What you just did was fucked up!"
"Do not use that language, Calliope! You are not too old for a mouth full of soap." Melana opened the large bag and Gucci scampered back inside and settled onto his blanket. "Once you’ve explained yourself I’m sure it will be fine. Your father and I will go with you and wait."
"No." George emerged from the bathroom, drying his scraped hands on a towel. "I’m going with her."
"You will stay away from her," Raph growled.
"She is my *wife*. You can threaten me, you can call me names, and you can try to intimidate me with your monkey or anything else in your arsenal, but she’s my *wife* and I’m not going anywhere."
Raphael glared. "Really? Was she your wife when you were unfaithful?"
"Dad."
"Don’t you ‘Dad’ me, Calliope. I’m not the bad guy here. He is. And he can puff up and try to posture all he wants, but at the end of the day he still lost the right to call you his wife and if he does it one more time I’m going to strangle him."
"That’s enough." Bailey looked at Callie’s father then at George. She could see that distance needed to be put between them as soon as possible. "I need George to run an errand anyway so he can escort her upstairs. Dr. O’Malley, I realize that you’re not on duty, but if you could please pick up the Sanderson labs that would be great."
"No. No way!" Callie shook her head back and forth as George beckoned her. "I can’t do this today. Not today! I have to leave."
"You got somewhere else to be?" Bailey asked. "Maybe a bar? A liquor store?"
"Look at me! I’m surrounded by crazy! I am not in any shape to talk to *anyone* about *anything*. If I go up there, they’ll keep me. They’ll probably put a straight jacket on me and I’d rather skip having to gnaw through restraints today." Callie put a hand on her head as the throbbing intensified. "Besides you still owe me one."
"Come again." Bailey raised her brows.
"I saved you from Sydney! Last month. She said she had nothing to do and kept hanging around you. I made her come with me. I made her scrub in with *me*. You said you owed me one and I’m collecting."
Bailey’s jaw dropped a little. "You saving me from Sydney is not even in the same ballpark as me putting my ass on the line with the Chief. And I think I paid you back last night after I sucked five *full* containers out of your stomach before you were finally clear."
"You were just doing your job. Me hanging out with Sydney? That is not part of *my* job." Callie’s eyes were huge. "She *hugged* me. She *braided* my *hair* so that it would look better under my scrub cap. I spent seven hours straight listening to her chatter about healing with love and then I had to have *lunch* with her on top of that. Now ... pay up."
"She braided your hair?" Bailey couldn’t hide her laughter. She tilted her head back a little and tried to imagine it. When she finally looked at Callie she saw the desperation in the other woman’s face and sighed. "Oh, all right! Your last liver test was fine. You’re clearly surrounded by family and you’re safe and you need to go get a decent meal. I forgot that Psych was too busy to see you today."
"Dr. Bailey," George said, shaking his head. "Don’t. She needs to go up and -"
"Be quiet, O’Malley." Bailey opened Callie’s chart and glanced through it. After she scribbled a couple of notes, she addressed Callie. "Give me your word that you’ll come back in the next couple of days and do this consult."
"Fine."
"Now promise me that you’re okay."
"I’m fine. Perfect. My mother has zipped up the monkey, my husband has zipped up his pants, and I’m getting out of here so life is good. And I did *not* try to kill myself."
Bailey shook her head. "Two days, Torres. That’s forty eight hours for you to schedule this appointment and get it over with."
"He name is O’Malley," George pointed out. "And she’ll be here. I’ll make sure of it."
"George, you may be in traction by then." Bailey closed Callie’s chart. To Callie, she added, "Good luck."
"Thanks. I’ll need it."
*~*~*~*~*~
Addison sat in the lounge, an unopened magazine in front of her. She wanted to go and see Callie, but every time she headed for her friend’s room, she stopped. How was she going to apologize enough? The things that she had said to Callie had been wrong, uncalled for, and she couldn’t help but think that it contributed to what Callie had done. Taking a deep breath, she flipped open the magazine and glanced down at it.
Mark sat down next to her, handing her a steaming cup of coffee. "It’s khaki. Just the way you like it."
"What?" She didn’t look at him.
"It’s more milk than coffee. It’s khaki." Mark put his hand on hers. "Callie’s okay. I overheard Bailey and Karev talking just now. Bailey’s letting her go home. Apparently Karev pled her case and is backing her up on the whole ‘accidental’ thing."
"Did you look in her chart? How’s her liver?"
"You know I did." Sloan grinned. "She’s one lucky girl. That’s all I can say. How she escaped this without any permanent damage is beyond me."
"Oh, she’s damaged."
"Just go talk to her."
"And say what? ‘I’m sorry that I got pissed at you and called you a bitch just because I was jealous of you and Alex Karev’?" As soon as she uttered the words, she realized what she had done.
Mark’s eyes widened. "Can you repeat that, Addison? I couldn’t have heard it right."
"It’s nothing."
"Do you have something going with that kid?" Mark asked.
"No." Addison shook her head. "We - we kissed one time and-"
"YOU KISSED HIM!?"
"Mark-"
"When?"
"A few weeks ago."
"Was that before or after we decided to do the sixty days?"
Addison faltered a little. It was only a split second, but it was enough. Mark shoved away from the table and stomped out of the lounge. She watched him go with her eyes wide and then groaned, planting her forehead on the open magazine. "Sucks. Sucks. Sucks."
"I’ll tell you what sucks," Bailey said, taking Mark’s vacant seat. "Callie Torres’ life. That sucks. Her mother’s monkey attacked George. They know what he did with Stevens and when a parent knows her child has been betrayed, well, they get a little crazy."
Addison finally lifted her head and looked at her friend. "You lost me at monkey."
Bailey quickly explained and watched as Addison put her head down again. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do not tell me that you have a hangover!"
"Men."
"No. We are not discussing men."
Addison, with her head still on the magazine, plowed ahead. "Mark can’t really get jealous. You know? He cheated on me after I cheated on my husband to be with him and then he came here and screwed everything with legs, including Callie, so he can’t get mad just because me and Alex had a -"
"WHAT?" Bailey slapped her hand on the table next to Addison’s head, causing the red head to look at her. "I swear to God ... I don’t have interns. I have nymphomaniacs. When I was in my first year I did not have sex one single time. Why? Because I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to learn. I don’t know what the hell kind of hormones they injected into my five idiots, but *you* should be immune! Alex Karev!?"
"It was just a kiss."
"A kiss of death by the looks of you," Bailey growled. "If everyone who worked here could open up a chart instead of their fly then life would be a little better all around."
"I kissed him on the mouth. Not there."
"I’m pretending that I didn’t hear that."
Addison sighed. "By the way, are you sure that Callie needs to go home so soon?"
"Does everyone know the status of my patient? Karev was waiting on me in the parking lot when I got here this morning. He insisted that she’s fine and put up a damn good argument as to why she should go home."
"Why is that?"
"Because at least when she’s back at the hotel she can lock people out." Bailey sipped her cola. "And Callie got me on a technicality."
"A technicality?"
"Sydney Heron."
Addison wrinkled her nose. "Sydney Heron?"
"Callie had a favor coming. From me. I’m willing to let her go because I’m convinced of two things."
"And that would be?"
"That anyone who had to work seven straight hours with Sydney Heron earns the emotional breakdown that eventually comes. And George O’Malley is not going to let his wife out of his sight." Bailey picked up her bag of chips and opened it. "She’ll be okay."
"She’s stubborn."
"She needs to be. I don’t judge a lot of the crap that goes on around here because my brain doesn’t process it, but what he did with Stevens? *That* sucked."
"He loves Callie. He'll make this right."
"They got married fast."
"He loves her," Addison repeated. "So do I. She’s my best friend. My best friend that I haven’t seen really since she woke up."
"She may still be up there. Olivia’s on the chart so it’ll probably be hours before she’s released. Can she be slower?" Bailey ate a few chips, then looked confused. "Why haven’t you been up to see her?"
"We had a really, really bad fight before she drank herself into a coma." Addison made a face. "I thought she was sleeping with Alex."
"This?" Bailey said. "This is why I don’t want to talk about men. I knew that Alex was too interested in her damn case."
"They’re not sleeping together. They’re friends."
Bailey stood and picked up her tray. "You know what? I can’t wrap my head around who’s doing what with who so I’m just going to go do what I know. And that’s cut someone open. Too bad I can’t pick who from the employees here. This whole place needs a lobotomy."
Addison stood as well, glancing down at the khaki coffee Mark had set in front of her. She lifted the cup and took a sip. It was lukewarm, but it was exactly the way she liked it. Mark knew those things. He knew which movies made her cry, which chocolate she needed during PMS, and how she took her coffee. It was rare to find someone who *cared* about something so mundane. Derek had certainly never, even after all their years together, known how much milk versus coffee made her a happy girl.
Dropping her food in the trash, she headed up to Callie’s room. George was standing in the hallway and he looked so happy to see her that it took a little of the load off her shoulders. "Hey, George."
"Oh! Hey!" he greeted, then shifted his eyes a little.
She followed his gaze and saw an older gentleman standing nearby, openly glaring at George. "You must be Mr. Torres." She extended her hand. "I’m Addison Montgomery. Your daughter is my best friend."
"Miss Montgomery, it’s nice to meet you," Raphael said as he clasped her hand in his. "Callie talks about you all the time."
"Call me Addison," she replied. Guilt rose inside her at his comment and she looked back at George. "Is it okay if I go in?"
He looked pained at the thought of being left in the hallway with Mr. Torres again, but he nodded. "Of course. Callie wanted to take a shower so her mom was helping her out a little, but she should be finished soon. It’s gotta be soon. Really soon now."
After she gave him a reassuring smile, Addison rapped lightly on the door and pushed it open. She drew up short when she got a good look at Callie’s mother. "Oh my god. The two of you look like-"
"Twins," Callie finished for her, coming out of the bathroom, her hair wet. "Yeah, we never hear that. Mom, meet Addison. Addy, this is my mother."
"Melana," Mrs. Torres replied. The two women shook hands. "Addison is a lovely name."
"Thank you." Addison turned her attention to Callie and frowned. Her friend looked exhausted, beaten, and was still far too pale as far as Addy was concerned. "How do you feel?"
Callie shrugged. "Mom? Would you mind asking George to get my clothes out of my locker? I don’t really want to go home in this hospital gown." Her mother nodded and Callie added, "And could you and Daddy give me a minute alone? I need to talk to Addison."
"Absolutely, honey."
Addison waited until Melana had left the room and then said, "Look, I’m sorry. I was one hundred percent wrong and -"
"Shut up."
"Callie-"
"Shut up! You apologized last time. It’s my turn. I hit you below the belt with the whole Derek thing and I’m sorry."
"I had it coming. And I called you a bitch."
"Yeah. I didn’t have that coming."
"I know."
"I didn’t make out with Alex."
"I know that, too."
The two women looked at one another for several moments and then Callie said, "I guess this is where we hug."
Addison took a step forward and pulled her best friend into her arms. "We’re getting better at this whole friendship thing."
Callie held onto her for a while. "I really need a friend right now."
"I’m here." Addison took a step back and then pointed a the bed. "Sit down. You look like hell."
Callie crawled back into the bed and took a deep breath, hoping it would settle her frayed nerves. She told Addison about Louise and then relayed the events of the morning, her eyes filling with tears by the time she reached the worst of the gory details. "And even after the monkey attacked him, my father threatened him, and he knew that they knew ... he stayed. He *stayed*, Addison."
"He regrets it."
"How do you know that?"
"He stayed."
"No offense, but you tried to stay with Derek, too. You came all this way and you tried to hold on with both hands, but you couldn’t. And you’re thinking about reconciling with the man who broke up your marriage."
Addison frowned. Reconciling with Mark would probably be hard to do now that he was so pissed at her. She wanted to mention it, but decided to keep her own problems to herself for the time being. Callie needed her. "My marriage was broken before I cheated. Love couldn’t fix it, but it was still worth trying. It’s better to try and find out it didn’t work than not try and wonder ten years from now if you made the wrong choice."
"Do you know that George never even told me he loved me until the night he proposed?" Callie replied. "I keep thinking about that. It was everything I could have wanted it to be. It was unexpected, it was sweet, and it was the most romantic moment of my entire life.
"But that little voice in the back of my head told me not to do it, told me that he was still reeling from his dad’s death, and that it was a mistake." Her eyes met Addison’s. "Do you know that the only reason I said yes to him that night was because I couldn’t hurt him? I couldn’t turn him down because he said his stomach was filled with asphalt."
Addison blinked several times. "Asphalt? We have very different concepts of romance."
Callie attempted to grin, but didn’t quite make it. "I knew better, but I just love him so much and he was finally offering me everything I wanted. I knew better. I did. And this ... this is apparently God getting back at me for depriving my mother of the white dress she picked out for me years ago."
"I’m not a religious person, but I can’t imagine that God, whoever that may be, would hurt you this much over a dress." Addison put her hand on Callie’s. "What do you want? Do you want to end it and go your separate ways or do you want to work on it?"
The silence between them was heavy and would have been uncomfortable had it not been for their mutual understanding that the truth was often hard to speak. The question hung in the air, demanding attention, though, and the dark haired ‘bonecrusher’ knew that her heart was about to suffer a permanent fracture. She knew the answer. She knew it through and through. And it terrified her.
"I want him back," Callie finally admitted. "But then I think that I’m gonna be the butt of the joke here at work. Moreso than I already am, because then I’m the wife who takes crap from her husband and stays. And everyone knows. Everyone has an opinion and I don't really care what people think. Really, I don't. But even *I* hate those weak women who become doormats."
"I can’t tell you what to do and I know this is a sore subject, but while you were gone for those fifteen days I hung out with George. You are my best friend and I will always support you because I love you, but I feel it in my gut that you guys can work this out. I don’t have any doubt at all that George is madly in love with you and he wants to make amends. And you love him, Callie. Do you want to live without him because of what people may say or fight for what’s yours and prove everyone wrong?"
"How do I fight when I have no pride?"
"Pride goeth before the fall, Cal. And you’re ready to fall. Let him catch you when you do."
There was a soft knock on the door and George pushed it open. In one hand he carried the duffel bag containing Callie’s clothing. In the other he held her discharge papers, which he had signed. He handed the bag to Callie and said, "Your parents got a room at the Archfield. They’re waiting in the hallway to drive your car." He looked at his wife. "I’ll understand if you don’t want me to go with you, but I would really like to."
"Why?"
"Because I love you. And I’m tired. I haven’t slept well in weeks and the only way I’m going to is if I can see you, hear you breathe. I won’t touch you. I won’t force you to talk to me if you don’t want, but I need to look at you. I just - I need to look at you for a while."
//I’d be happy to just to look at you from across the room. And even that, anything, any piece of you - I mean, hopefully all of you, that would be the best thing - because I love you.//
Callie’s dark brown eyes met his green ones. He didn’t blink, didn’t glance away. Whether it was the memory of his proposal or a death wish on his own part was unclear, but the plea in his eyes never wavered. Addison squeezed her hand, prompting her to answer. "Yeah. Okay."
"Okay." George smiled at her.
Addy’s sigh of relief went unnoticed by both her friends.
*~*~*~*~*~
George waited in Callie’s room as she got dressed in the bathroom. Addison had gone, promising that she would drop by later in the evening when her shift was over and George had impulsively hugged her. He needed to hug someone. He felt like a dead man walking. She had hugged him back and whispered that it would be okay before she headed into the hallway to keep Callie’s parents at bay. He was staring out the window at the surprisingly sunny sky when he heard the bathroom door open.
Callie was wearing a pair of black jeans that she had picked up at the mall when they had gone shopping in Vegas. They had been skin tight at the time, causing George’s mouth to water as they hugged her rounded backside. Now, however, he saw that they were loose, hanging dangerously low on her hips. They hung so low that she had been forced to put a cuff on each leg so that she wouldn’t trip in the Crocs she wore. Instead of wearing the simple red shirt that had been stowed away in her bag, she had chosen to wear one of her body hugging, cleavage baring, tank tops. Also black. Also a lot looser than usual.
George would have enjoyed the view if he had not been shocked as hell at the patch of skin that peeked below it. Her stomach, which usually had just the slightest outward curve, was flat. Completely flat. As his gaze dipped lower still he saw that her hip bones were showing over the top of her jeans and he frowned. How had he not noticed that she had wilted away? Had he always been so blind where she was concerned?
Callie patted the long, loose pony tail she had secured her hair in and took a deep breath. "You think I look slutty enough to annoy my mother?"
George shook his head. "She’s going to forget the clothes when she sees how they fit you."
Glancing down at herself, Callie nodded. "I do seem to have shed a few pounds."
Saying nothing, George watched her as she walked around the room, gathering the stuffed bear Louise had given her and then bending over to retrieve her purse from the bottom of the closet. He gasped and pointed at her backside. "Callie O’Malley!" he yelped, staring at the black ink on her lower back. "When, where and why did you get a tramp stamp!?"
Callie stood slowly, self consciously trying to pull her pants up or her shirt down. She turned and grinned a little sheepishly. "Uh, North Carolina?"
"It’s huge!" George moved around her and lifted her shirt. The tattoo was completely black and as he stared at it, he realized that it was a bird of some kind. The wings spanned the expanse of her hips and there were tribal designs on either side and underneath. He licked his lips a little and trailed his fingers over it. "It’s also hot as hell. Did - did it hurt?"
Callie’s breath caught as he traced the lines. She hated that her body wanted to react to his touch, to his nearness. She hissed when his thumb dipped a little lower and stepped away from him. Angry at herself, she pulled at her shirt and turned around. "Yeah. It hurt. I needed something physical to hurt for a while instead of the inside."
George realized that he had overstepped the invisible boundary and nodded. "What does it mean? The tattoo?"
"I got it to remind me that I can fly. Anytime. That my wings are never clipped and I’m never stuck. I can disappear."
"You almost did."
"We should go."
George wanted to continue their conversation, but she reached for her duffel and put it over her shoulder. He took it from her and carried it himself, following her into the hallway. As soon as they emerged, Melana began to fret over Callie’s weight loss, fret about her return to ‘gangster’ clothing, and then she saw the tattoo and, thankfully, it kept everyone’s attention off George for the elevator ride to the lobby. He listened as Raphael joined the chorus, complaining that Callie had ruined her beautiful complexion with the ink, that she had wasted away to skin and bones, that she should be ashamed of herself.
They cut through the ER because that was where Alex had left Callie’s car. George saw Meredith, who smiled at him, then she looked at Callie and her smile faded. He knew that she was seeing what he had seen. His bride was no longer *curvy*. He wondered again how he failed to see it. Granted, her scrubs were camouflaging and the hospital gown she had worn was a tent on anyone, but still. Then he remembered that he had seen her in her bathing suit and sarong and he had been so intent on making her listen to him that he hadn’t even noticed her size.
He definitely noticed now.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Callie dug her keys from her purse and opened the trunk on her modest red Toyota Camry Solara convertible. George had fallen in love with the stupid car after she test drove it. That had been before he knew about her money. He thought she had financed the twenty thousand dollar car. She had paid cash. She figured he would shit himself if he ever got to go to Miami with her and see her Mercedes. Or the Jag. Or the old mustang convertible that had been Cam’s at one time. Or her father’s Rolls Royce. She waited while George put her bag in the trunk, then shut it. Her mother kept a firm hold on Gucci’s Louis Vuitton carrying case.
Flipping a few buttons, Callie let the top down and cringed a little. If she had thrown up in the backseat, someone had cleaned it up, but they had left the bottles. There were three empty Kahlua White Russian bottles and a fourth full one from the pack she had purchased the morning after her fight with Addison. The larger of the bourbon bottles was in the front floorboard and the smaller was in the backseat. The smell of alcohol in the car would make eyes water, but she said nothing.
Her father was glaring at her and Callie sighed, holding out her keys to George, who wordlessly took them. After he parents were settled in the backseat, Callie crawled into the passenger seat and tilted her head back a little, enjoying the sun. It was a mistake and the harsh light caused her temples to throb. She settled her sunglasses on her nose as George started the engine.
"Callie?" Raph said, shifting his feet a little as the bottles clanked beneath them. "Do you recall telling me that you didn’t drink? That you didn’t like the taste of alcohol?"
"Yeah, Dad. It was the day after a fifty kegger frat party and I woke up face down in the sand." She rubbed her head.
"I feel like I don’t know you any more," her father said as George maneuvered them onto the main road that would lead to the hotel. "This car? This car isn’t you."
"It’s got four tires and an engine. It’s fine."
"Tattoos. Alcohol poisoning. None of this started until you eloped."
Callie saw George’s hand tighten on the gear shifter and instinctively put her hand on his. He lifted his fingers a little so that he could capture hers and she didn’t pull away. The remainder of the ride was blissfully silent, save for Gucci. Melana had opened the panel of his carrier and the wind thrilled him. He chortled his excitement, a sound that usually made Callie laugh along with him, but she never even smiled.
George let the Valet service handle the parking and Callie was glad that she didn't need to see the parking deck again. She hopped out of the car and pulled the seat forward, helping her mother out. Her father climbed out behind his wife and stood toe to with Callie, looking at her. He reached up, plucked the glasses off her face and tilted her chin. "I take back what I said earlier, Calliope," he told her.
"Which part?"
"The part where I said I could never be mad at you."
She watched as he stalked off. Her mother simply shook her head and followed, uncharacteristically quiet. George stepped up beside Callie and handed her purse to her. "He’ll come around," he softly told her, placing a hand on the small of her back.
"He’s disappointed in me. Do you have any idea how horrible it feels to know that?"
George brushed a strand of her hair back from her face and nodded, "Unfortunately. I disappointed you. And that need you have to rush after him and beg until he tells you he still loves you ... that’s how I’ve felt for weeks now." He saw her face tighten and quickly amended, "And I deserve it, but I know exactly how you feel."
Callie pulled her bag over her shoulder and walked into the hotel.
----
This would be Callie's tattoo in case you need a visual. She had to do something that would push her father over the edge. :)
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairing: Addison/Mark, Callie/George, Callie/Alex (friendship), George/Izzie (implied) Alex/Izzie
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to fall, but if you're lucky someone may catch you. And they may be falling, too.
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
*~*~*~*~*~
"The difference between holding on to a hurt or releasing it with forgiveness is like the difference between laying your head down at night on a pillow filled with thorns or a pillow filled with rosepetals."
---Loren Fischer
The little primate soared through the air toward George’s face, teeth bared. Callie reached up, trying to intercept the animal, but missed. "No!" she cried.
Raphael, who was hoping for as much carnage as possible, moved out of the way. He let the monkey land on George, smiled a little when the young man screeched, and then watched as Gucci ripped at George’s hair. Callie shot from the bed, but Raphael grabbed her around the waist and put a hand over her mouth to keep her from commanding the monkey to cease. Only when he felt her tears on his hand did he bark out an order and the attack finally stopped, but Gucci remain firmly on George’s head.
"Don’t make any sudden movements, George," Raph said in a low, rumbling voice. "He can sever the artery in your neck with one bite. Just one. And I can think of one very good reason why I should let him."
"So can I," Melana agreed. "Perhaps you should instruct him to move a little lower, Raph. I’m sure there’s an artery below the belt that controls what he so obviously can’t."
Callie finally succeeded in pushing her father’s hand away. "Gucci, come," she said through her tears.
"Gucci, stay!" The authority in Raphael’s voice overrode her weak summon and the monkey, though confused, made no move to leave his new perch. "I trusted you, George. You gave me your word that you would take care of my little girl."
"I know," George shakily replied. "And I will."
Callie struggled harder as George lowered his arms and the monkey cried out, agitated by the movement. "He’s bleeding. Daddy, he’s bleeding. Oh, my god."
Raphael narrowed his eyes at George and said, "You’ve got angels on your side, boy. Gucci, come."
The monkey hopped onto Raphael’s hand and Callie broke loose and rushed to her husband, who was dumbstruck, staring at the scratches on the backs of his hands. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was superficial, then cupped his cheek, thumbing away the blood from a small knick. "Are you okay? I am so sorry." He nodded and she turned, nostrils flaring, and shouted at her parents, "How could you do that to him?"
"How could we not?!" Melana demanded. "What’s a few little cuts compared to what he did to you?"
"I thought you understood! You said that violence wasn’t the answer!"
"I understand completely that you’re in love with him." Melana shot back. "And I said that your father shouldn’t resort to violence. I didn’t say anything about Gucci."
"Get out. Go back home and stay the hell away from me!" Callie pointed at the door, which opened.
"What is all that noise?" Bailey asked, walking into the room. "This is a -" Her gaze landed on the monkey, which grinned at her, and she shook her head. "I am not seeing what I think I’m seeing. This is a hospital, people! A hospital! Get that monkey and-"
"He’s a trained service animal," Melana said. "I have epilepsy. He can usually warn me that an attack is coming."
"Uh huh." Bailey had now seen the blood on George’s hands and crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, I can see how trained it is. O’Malley, go down to the clinic and tell Stevens to clean you up."
"No." George shook his head. "I can’t do that." He looked at Callie. Melana had said that Callie was in love with him and that was enough to glue his feet to the floor. "I’m not leaving."
"Then go in the bathroom and wash your hands!" Bailey snapped. She watched as her intern walked past her and shut the bathroom door, then turned her attention to Callie. "Dr. Torres, how are you feeling?"
"Is that a trick question?" Callie wiped at the tears on her face and added, "I’m ready to leave. Can you get the paperwork started?"
"This is not a hotel," Bailey told her. "You don’t decide when you checkout. I do. And you’re not going anywhere until you make your Psych consult. It’s in thirty minutes."
"Oh, come on!"
"Chief Webber explained it to us, mija," Raphael said, handing the monkey off to Melana. "It’s just a precaution. What you did-"
"For the last freakin’ time ... I did not try to kill myself! I had too much to drink! It happens!" Callie was angry, angrier than she could remember being. "And I’m not talking to you, Dad! What you just did was fucked up!"
"Do not use that language, Calliope! You are not too old for a mouth full of soap." Melana opened the large bag and Gucci scampered back inside and settled onto his blanket. "Once you’ve explained yourself I’m sure it will be fine. Your father and I will go with you and wait."
"No." George emerged from the bathroom, drying his scraped hands on a towel. "I’m going with her."
"You will stay away from her," Raph growled.
"She is my *wife*. You can threaten me, you can call me names, and you can try to intimidate me with your monkey or anything else in your arsenal, but she’s my *wife* and I’m not going anywhere."
Raphael glared. "Really? Was she your wife when you were unfaithful?"
"Dad."
"Don’t you ‘Dad’ me, Calliope. I’m not the bad guy here. He is. And he can puff up and try to posture all he wants, but at the end of the day he still lost the right to call you his wife and if he does it one more time I’m going to strangle him."
"That’s enough." Bailey looked at Callie’s father then at George. She could see that distance needed to be put between them as soon as possible. "I need George to run an errand anyway so he can escort her upstairs. Dr. O’Malley, I realize that you’re not on duty, but if you could please pick up the Sanderson labs that would be great."
"No. No way!" Callie shook her head back and forth as George beckoned her. "I can’t do this today. Not today! I have to leave."
"You got somewhere else to be?" Bailey asked. "Maybe a bar? A liquor store?"
"Look at me! I’m surrounded by crazy! I am not in any shape to talk to *anyone* about *anything*. If I go up there, they’ll keep me. They’ll probably put a straight jacket on me and I’d rather skip having to gnaw through restraints today." Callie put a hand on her head as the throbbing intensified. "Besides you still owe me one."
"Come again." Bailey raised her brows.
"I saved you from Sydney! Last month. She said she had nothing to do and kept hanging around you. I made her come with me. I made her scrub in with *me*. You said you owed me one and I’m collecting."
Bailey’s jaw dropped a little. "You saving me from Sydney is not even in the same ballpark as me putting my ass on the line with the Chief. And I think I paid you back last night after I sucked five *full* containers out of your stomach before you were finally clear."
"You were just doing your job. Me hanging out with Sydney? That is not part of *my* job." Callie’s eyes were huge. "She *hugged* me. She *braided* my *hair* so that it would look better under my scrub cap. I spent seven hours straight listening to her chatter about healing with love and then I had to have *lunch* with her on top of that. Now ... pay up."
"She braided your hair?" Bailey couldn’t hide her laughter. She tilted her head back a little and tried to imagine it. When she finally looked at Callie she saw the desperation in the other woman’s face and sighed. "Oh, all right! Your last liver test was fine. You’re clearly surrounded by family and you’re safe and you need to go get a decent meal. I forgot that Psych was too busy to see you today."
"Dr. Bailey," George said, shaking his head. "Don’t. She needs to go up and -"
"Be quiet, O’Malley." Bailey opened Callie’s chart and glanced through it. After she scribbled a couple of notes, she addressed Callie. "Give me your word that you’ll come back in the next couple of days and do this consult."
"Fine."
"Now promise me that you’re okay."
"I’m fine. Perfect. My mother has zipped up the monkey, my husband has zipped up his pants, and I’m getting out of here so life is good. And I did *not* try to kill myself."
Bailey shook her head. "Two days, Torres. That’s forty eight hours for you to schedule this appointment and get it over with."
"He name is O’Malley," George pointed out. "And she’ll be here. I’ll make sure of it."
"George, you may be in traction by then." Bailey closed Callie’s chart. To Callie, she added, "Good luck."
"Thanks. I’ll need it."
*~*~*~*~*~
Addison sat in the lounge, an unopened magazine in front of her. She wanted to go and see Callie, but every time she headed for her friend’s room, she stopped. How was she going to apologize enough? The things that she had said to Callie had been wrong, uncalled for, and she couldn’t help but think that it contributed to what Callie had done. Taking a deep breath, she flipped open the magazine and glanced down at it.
Mark sat down next to her, handing her a steaming cup of coffee. "It’s khaki. Just the way you like it."
"What?" She didn’t look at him.
"It’s more milk than coffee. It’s khaki." Mark put his hand on hers. "Callie’s okay. I overheard Bailey and Karev talking just now. Bailey’s letting her go home. Apparently Karev pled her case and is backing her up on the whole ‘accidental’ thing."
"Did you look in her chart? How’s her liver?"
"You know I did." Sloan grinned. "She’s one lucky girl. That’s all I can say. How she escaped this without any permanent damage is beyond me."
"Oh, she’s damaged."
"Just go talk to her."
"And say what? ‘I’m sorry that I got pissed at you and called you a bitch just because I was jealous of you and Alex Karev’?" As soon as she uttered the words, she realized what she had done.
Mark’s eyes widened. "Can you repeat that, Addison? I couldn’t have heard it right."
"It’s nothing."
"Do you have something going with that kid?" Mark asked.
"No." Addison shook her head. "We - we kissed one time and-"
"YOU KISSED HIM!?"
"Mark-"
"When?"
"A few weeks ago."
"Was that before or after we decided to do the sixty days?"
Addison faltered a little. It was only a split second, but it was enough. Mark shoved away from the table and stomped out of the lounge. She watched him go with her eyes wide and then groaned, planting her forehead on the open magazine. "Sucks. Sucks. Sucks."
"I’ll tell you what sucks," Bailey said, taking Mark’s vacant seat. "Callie Torres’ life. That sucks. Her mother’s monkey attacked George. They know what he did with Stevens and when a parent knows her child has been betrayed, well, they get a little crazy."
Addison finally lifted her head and looked at her friend. "You lost me at monkey."
Bailey quickly explained and watched as Addison put her head down again. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do not tell me that you have a hangover!"
"Men."
"No. We are not discussing men."
Addison, with her head still on the magazine, plowed ahead. "Mark can’t really get jealous. You know? He cheated on me after I cheated on my husband to be with him and then he came here and screwed everything with legs, including Callie, so he can’t get mad just because me and Alex had a -"
"WHAT?" Bailey slapped her hand on the table next to Addison’s head, causing the red head to look at her. "I swear to God ... I don’t have interns. I have nymphomaniacs. When I was in my first year I did not have sex one single time. Why? Because I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to learn. I don’t know what the hell kind of hormones they injected into my five idiots, but *you* should be immune! Alex Karev!?"
"It was just a kiss."
"A kiss of death by the looks of you," Bailey growled. "If everyone who worked here could open up a chart instead of their fly then life would be a little better all around."
"I kissed him on the mouth. Not there."
"I’m pretending that I didn’t hear that."
Addison sighed. "By the way, are you sure that Callie needs to go home so soon?"
"Does everyone know the status of my patient? Karev was waiting on me in the parking lot when I got here this morning. He insisted that she’s fine and put up a damn good argument as to why she should go home."
"Why is that?"
"Because at least when she’s back at the hotel she can lock people out." Bailey sipped her cola. "And Callie got me on a technicality."
"A technicality?"
"Sydney Heron."
Addison wrinkled her nose. "Sydney Heron?"
"Callie had a favor coming. From me. I’m willing to let her go because I’m convinced of two things."
"And that would be?"
"That anyone who had to work seven straight hours with Sydney Heron earns the emotional breakdown that eventually comes. And George O’Malley is not going to let his wife out of his sight." Bailey picked up her bag of chips and opened it. "She’ll be okay."
"She’s stubborn."
"She needs to be. I don’t judge a lot of the crap that goes on around here because my brain doesn’t process it, but what he did with Stevens? *That* sucked."
"He loves Callie. He'll make this right."
"They got married fast."
"He loves her," Addison repeated. "So do I. She’s my best friend. My best friend that I haven’t seen really since she woke up."
"She may still be up there. Olivia’s on the chart so it’ll probably be hours before she’s released. Can she be slower?" Bailey ate a few chips, then looked confused. "Why haven’t you been up to see her?"
"We had a really, really bad fight before she drank herself into a coma." Addison made a face. "I thought she was sleeping with Alex."
"This?" Bailey said. "This is why I don’t want to talk about men. I knew that Alex was too interested in her damn case."
"They’re not sleeping together. They’re friends."
Bailey stood and picked up her tray. "You know what? I can’t wrap my head around who’s doing what with who so I’m just going to go do what I know. And that’s cut someone open. Too bad I can’t pick who from the employees here. This whole place needs a lobotomy."
Addison stood as well, glancing down at the khaki coffee Mark had set in front of her. She lifted the cup and took a sip. It was lukewarm, but it was exactly the way she liked it. Mark knew those things. He knew which movies made her cry, which chocolate she needed during PMS, and how she took her coffee. It was rare to find someone who *cared* about something so mundane. Derek had certainly never, even after all their years together, known how much milk versus coffee made her a happy girl.
Dropping her food in the trash, she headed up to Callie’s room. George was standing in the hallway and he looked so happy to see her that it took a little of the load off her shoulders. "Hey, George."
"Oh! Hey!" he greeted, then shifted his eyes a little.
She followed his gaze and saw an older gentleman standing nearby, openly glaring at George. "You must be Mr. Torres." She extended her hand. "I’m Addison Montgomery. Your daughter is my best friend."
"Miss Montgomery, it’s nice to meet you," Raphael said as he clasped her hand in his. "Callie talks about you all the time."
"Call me Addison," she replied. Guilt rose inside her at his comment and she looked back at George. "Is it okay if I go in?"
He looked pained at the thought of being left in the hallway with Mr. Torres again, but he nodded. "Of course. Callie wanted to take a shower so her mom was helping her out a little, but she should be finished soon. It’s gotta be soon. Really soon now."
After she gave him a reassuring smile, Addison rapped lightly on the door and pushed it open. She drew up short when she got a good look at Callie’s mother. "Oh my god. The two of you look like-"
"Twins," Callie finished for her, coming out of the bathroom, her hair wet. "Yeah, we never hear that. Mom, meet Addison. Addy, this is my mother."
"Melana," Mrs. Torres replied. The two women shook hands. "Addison is a lovely name."
"Thank you." Addison turned her attention to Callie and frowned. Her friend looked exhausted, beaten, and was still far too pale as far as Addy was concerned. "How do you feel?"
Callie shrugged. "Mom? Would you mind asking George to get my clothes out of my locker? I don’t really want to go home in this hospital gown." Her mother nodded and Callie added, "And could you and Daddy give me a minute alone? I need to talk to Addison."
"Absolutely, honey."
Addison waited until Melana had left the room and then said, "Look, I’m sorry. I was one hundred percent wrong and -"
"Shut up."
"Callie-"
"Shut up! You apologized last time. It’s my turn. I hit you below the belt with the whole Derek thing and I’m sorry."
"I had it coming. And I called you a bitch."
"Yeah. I didn’t have that coming."
"I know."
"I didn’t make out with Alex."
"I know that, too."
The two women looked at one another for several moments and then Callie said, "I guess this is where we hug."
Addison took a step forward and pulled her best friend into her arms. "We’re getting better at this whole friendship thing."
Callie held onto her for a while. "I really need a friend right now."
"I’m here." Addison took a step back and then pointed a the bed. "Sit down. You look like hell."
Callie crawled back into the bed and took a deep breath, hoping it would settle her frayed nerves. She told Addison about Louise and then relayed the events of the morning, her eyes filling with tears by the time she reached the worst of the gory details. "And even after the monkey attacked him, my father threatened him, and he knew that they knew ... he stayed. He *stayed*, Addison."
"He regrets it."
"How do you know that?"
"He stayed."
"No offense, but you tried to stay with Derek, too. You came all this way and you tried to hold on with both hands, but you couldn’t. And you’re thinking about reconciling with the man who broke up your marriage."
Addison frowned. Reconciling with Mark would probably be hard to do now that he was so pissed at her. She wanted to mention it, but decided to keep her own problems to herself for the time being. Callie needed her. "My marriage was broken before I cheated. Love couldn’t fix it, but it was still worth trying. It’s better to try and find out it didn’t work than not try and wonder ten years from now if you made the wrong choice."
"Do you know that George never even told me he loved me until the night he proposed?" Callie replied. "I keep thinking about that. It was everything I could have wanted it to be. It was unexpected, it was sweet, and it was the most romantic moment of my entire life.
"But that little voice in the back of my head told me not to do it, told me that he was still reeling from his dad’s death, and that it was a mistake." Her eyes met Addison’s. "Do you know that the only reason I said yes to him that night was because I couldn’t hurt him? I couldn’t turn him down because he said his stomach was filled with asphalt."
Addison blinked several times. "Asphalt? We have very different concepts of romance."
Callie attempted to grin, but didn’t quite make it. "I knew better, but I just love him so much and he was finally offering me everything I wanted. I knew better. I did. And this ... this is apparently God getting back at me for depriving my mother of the white dress she picked out for me years ago."
"I’m not a religious person, but I can’t imagine that God, whoever that may be, would hurt you this much over a dress." Addison put her hand on Callie’s. "What do you want? Do you want to end it and go your separate ways or do you want to work on it?"
The silence between them was heavy and would have been uncomfortable had it not been for their mutual understanding that the truth was often hard to speak. The question hung in the air, demanding attention, though, and the dark haired ‘bonecrusher’ knew that her heart was about to suffer a permanent fracture. She knew the answer. She knew it through and through. And it terrified her.
"I want him back," Callie finally admitted. "But then I think that I’m gonna be the butt of the joke here at work. Moreso than I already am, because then I’m the wife who takes crap from her husband and stays. And everyone knows. Everyone has an opinion and I don't really care what people think. Really, I don't. But even *I* hate those weak women who become doormats."
"I can’t tell you what to do and I know this is a sore subject, but while you were gone for those fifteen days I hung out with George. You are my best friend and I will always support you because I love you, but I feel it in my gut that you guys can work this out. I don’t have any doubt at all that George is madly in love with you and he wants to make amends. And you love him, Callie. Do you want to live without him because of what people may say or fight for what’s yours and prove everyone wrong?"
"How do I fight when I have no pride?"
"Pride goeth before the fall, Cal. And you’re ready to fall. Let him catch you when you do."
There was a soft knock on the door and George pushed it open. In one hand he carried the duffel bag containing Callie’s clothing. In the other he held her discharge papers, which he had signed. He handed the bag to Callie and said, "Your parents got a room at the Archfield. They’re waiting in the hallway to drive your car." He looked at his wife. "I’ll understand if you don’t want me to go with you, but I would really like to."
"Why?"
"Because I love you. And I’m tired. I haven’t slept well in weeks and the only way I’m going to is if I can see you, hear you breathe. I won’t touch you. I won’t force you to talk to me if you don’t want, but I need to look at you. I just - I need to look at you for a while."
//I’d be happy to just to look at you from across the room. And even that, anything, any piece of you - I mean, hopefully all of you, that would be the best thing - because I love you.//
Callie’s dark brown eyes met his green ones. He didn’t blink, didn’t glance away. Whether it was the memory of his proposal or a death wish on his own part was unclear, but the plea in his eyes never wavered. Addison squeezed her hand, prompting her to answer. "Yeah. Okay."
"Okay." George smiled at her.
Addy’s sigh of relief went unnoticed by both her friends.
*~*~*~*~*~
George waited in Callie’s room as she got dressed in the bathroom. Addison had gone, promising that she would drop by later in the evening when her shift was over and George had impulsively hugged her. He needed to hug someone. He felt like a dead man walking. She had hugged him back and whispered that it would be okay before she headed into the hallway to keep Callie’s parents at bay. He was staring out the window at the surprisingly sunny sky when he heard the bathroom door open.
Callie was wearing a pair of black jeans that she had picked up at the mall when they had gone shopping in Vegas. They had been skin tight at the time, causing George’s mouth to water as they hugged her rounded backside. Now, however, he saw that they were loose, hanging dangerously low on her hips. They hung so low that she had been forced to put a cuff on each leg so that she wouldn’t trip in the Crocs she wore. Instead of wearing the simple red shirt that had been stowed away in her bag, she had chosen to wear one of her body hugging, cleavage baring, tank tops. Also black. Also a lot looser than usual.
George would have enjoyed the view if he had not been shocked as hell at the patch of skin that peeked below it. Her stomach, which usually had just the slightest outward curve, was flat. Completely flat. As his gaze dipped lower still he saw that her hip bones were showing over the top of her jeans and he frowned. How had he not noticed that she had wilted away? Had he always been so blind where she was concerned?
Callie patted the long, loose pony tail she had secured her hair in and took a deep breath. "You think I look slutty enough to annoy my mother?"
George shook his head. "She’s going to forget the clothes when she sees how they fit you."
Glancing down at herself, Callie nodded. "I do seem to have shed a few pounds."
Saying nothing, George watched her as she walked around the room, gathering the stuffed bear Louise had given her and then bending over to retrieve her purse from the bottom of the closet. He gasped and pointed at her backside. "Callie O’Malley!" he yelped, staring at the black ink on her lower back. "When, where and why did you get a tramp stamp!?"
Callie stood slowly, self consciously trying to pull her pants up or her shirt down. She turned and grinned a little sheepishly. "Uh, North Carolina?"
"It’s huge!" George moved around her and lifted her shirt. The tattoo was completely black and as he stared at it, he realized that it was a bird of some kind. The wings spanned the expanse of her hips and there were tribal designs on either side and underneath. He licked his lips a little and trailed his fingers over it. "It’s also hot as hell. Did - did it hurt?"
Callie’s breath caught as he traced the lines. She hated that her body wanted to react to his touch, to his nearness. She hissed when his thumb dipped a little lower and stepped away from him. Angry at herself, she pulled at her shirt and turned around. "Yeah. It hurt. I needed something physical to hurt for a while instead of the inside."
George realized that he had overstepped the invisible boundary and nodded. "What does it mean? The tattoo?"
"I got it to remind me that I can fly. Anytime. That my wings are never clipped and I’m never stuck. I can disappear."
"You almost did."
"We should go."
George wanted to continue their conversation, but she reached for her duffel and put it over her shoulder. He took it from her and carried it himself, following her into the hallway. As soon as they emerged, Melana began to fret over Callie’s weight loss, fret about her return to ‘gangster’ clothing, and then she saw the tattoo and, thankfully, it kept everyone’s attention off George for the elevator ride to the lobby. He listened as Raphael joined the chorus, complaining that Callie had ruined her beautiful complexion with the ink, that she had wasted away to skin and bones, that she should be ashamed of herself.
They cut through the ER because that was where Alex had left Callie’s car. George saw Meredith, who smiled at him, then she looked at Callie and her smile faded. He knew that she was seeing what he had seen. His bride was no longer *curvy*. He wondered again how he failed to see it. Granted, her scrubs were camouflaging and the hospital gown she had worn was a tent on anyone, but still. Then he remembered that he had seen her in her bathing suit and sarong and he had been so intent on making her listen to him that he hadn’t even noticed her size.
He definitely noticed now.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Callie dug her keys from her purse and opened the trunk on her modest red Toyota Camry Solara convertible. George had fallen in love with the stupid car after she test drove it. That had been before he knew about her money. He thought she had financed the twenty thousand dollar car. She had paid cash. She figured he would shit himself if he ever got to go to Miami with her and see her Mercedes. Or the Jag. Or the old mustang convertible that had been Cam’s at one time. Or her father’s Rolls Royce. She waited while George put her bag in the trunk, then shut it. Her mother kept a firm hold on Gucci’s Louis Vuitton carrying case.
Flipping a few buttons, Callie let the top down and cringed a little. If she had thrown up in the backseat, someone had cleaned it up, but they had left the bottles. There were three empty Kahlua White Russian bottles and a fourth full one from the pack she had purchased the morning after her fight with Addison. The larger of the bourbon bottles was in the front floorboard and the smaller was in the backseat. The smell of alcohol in the car would make eyes water, but she said nothing.
Her father was glaring at her and Callie sighed, holding out her keys to George, who wordlessly took them. After he parents were settled in the backseat, Callie crawled into the passenger seat and tilted her head back a little, enjoying the sun. It was a mistake and the harsh light caused her temples to throb. She settled her sunglasses on her nose as George started the engine.
"Callie?" Raph said, shifting his feet a little as the bottles clanked beneath them. "Do you recall telling me that you didn’t drink? That you didn’t like the taste of alcohol?"
"Yeah, Dad. It was the day after a fifty kegger frat party and I woke up face down in the sand." She rubbed her head.
"I feel like I don’t know you any more," her father said as George maneuvered them onto the main road that would lead to the hotel. "This car? This car isn’t you."
"It’s got four tires and an engine. It’s fine."
"Tattoos. Alcohol poisoning. None of this started until you eloped."
Callie saw George’s hand tighten on the gear shifter and instinctively put her hand on his. He lifted his fingers a little so that he could capture hers and she didn’t pull away. The remainder of the ride was blissfully silent, save for Gucci. Melana had opened the panel of his carrier and the wind thrilled him. He chortled his excitement, a sound that usually made Callie laugh along with him, but she never even smiled.
George let the Valet service handle the parking and Callie was glad that she didn't need to see the parking deck again. She hopped out of the car and pulled the seat forward, helping her mother out. Her father climbed out behind his wife and stood toe to with Callie, looking at her. He reached up, plucked the glasses off her face and tilted her chin. "I take back what I said earlier, Calliope," he told her.
"Which part?"
"The part where I said I could never be mad at you."
She watched as he stalked off. Her mother simply shook her head and followed, uncharacteristically quiet. George stepped up beside Callie and handed her purse to her. "He’ll come around," he softly told her, placing a hand on the small of her back.
"He’s disappointed in me. Do you have any idea how horrible it feels to know that?"
George brushed a strand of her hair back from her face and nodded, "Unfortunately. I disappointed you. And that need you have to rush after him and beg until he tells you he still loves you ... that’s how I’ve felt for weeks now." He saw her face tighten and quickly amended, "And I deserve it, but I know exactly how you feel."
Callie pulled her bag over her shoulder and walked into the hotel.
----
This would be Callie's tattoo in case you need a visual. She had to do something that would push her father over the edge. :)
