Title Finding My Way Back To You
Fandom Grey's Anatomy
Pair Mark and Callie
Warning/Spoiler/Summary None. None. Sometimes you get lost on the journey. And it takes something, someone, special to help you find your way back.
Disclaimer All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of the TV show Grey's Anatomy. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of devylish. devylish is in no way associated with the TV show Grey's Anatomy and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.
Mark and I opened our respective apartment doors at the same time. Him with a dishtowel in his hand, me with a DVD case in my hand.
"Uh, hi." I smiled
Then simultaneously, "Did you just ring my...?"
Chuckling Mark threw the dishtowel over his shoulder. "Think someone was playing ding dong ditch?"
I smiled again, appreciating this moment of relaxed, stupid, humor between us. Things hadn't been good between us recently. When he dumped Lexie for being a ho-ing bitch (who the hell saw THAT coming?), he went back to his manwhore ways, sleeping with the flavor of the week... or the flavor of the day and hitting on everything in a skirt.
That hurt me. It hurt more than his being with Lexie had hurt. I hadn't labeled the pain I felt. But it existed, and I knew that at least part of it revolved around the fact that I expected more from him. At this time... at this point... I knew he could devote himself to someone. He could settle down with one woman and have little mischievous baby Sloans; I knew he could settle down. And more than that, I knew he wanted to settle down.
But instead of looking for the right woman; regrouping and finding the woman that helped him be all that he could be, Mark gave the world manwhore 2.0.
The first crack in our relationship? Yeah it came when I opened my freakishly large mouth and told him that he needed to knock off his reinstated manwhorishness, and that he needed to find a real woman and make her his.
He'd grumbled something about how he had changed his mind about turning his damn leaf over. He liked his leaf right-side up quite a bit, thank you very much.
I'd growled back at him and continued to poke at him whenever a nice (not too nice) girl was within twenty feet of him. "She looks like picket fence material." Or, "Look Mark, now THOSE are birthing hips."
He finally pushed me into a conference room and bluntly told me to: 'give me dating advice when you have your own crap figured out Cal."
Make that double ouch because this little confrontation occurred a month after Ari and I had broken up. Arizona had dumped me... for another brunette. A peds nurse with, apparently, great legs and an unambivalent opinion about her sexuality or what she wanted in life (rainbow colored picket fence, 2.5 tots, and 2 dogs).
Anyway, we were done. And I was still sore in the spots that Ari use to fill (don't be a pig and go there!). I missed Ari's sunshiny smile first thing in the morning... Me, myself? most definitely not a morning person... Ari? The frickin' opposite... lived for fucking mornings. And even though it drove me crazy when we were together... I still kind of missed that chirpy, tweety, 'the sun is up and so are we!' attitude greeting me every damn morning.
At least, I kind of missed it.
Anyway, Mark's 'get your own shit straightened out before talking to me about my shit' statement, hurt.
I didn't talk to him for two days after that.
And then I realized I couldn't be without a girlfriend AND without my best friend at the same time, so I gave in to his prodding and poking and semi-apologizing, and let him be my friend again.
And then the tables turned, and he began to point girls out to me. 'Looks like she'd be good for a roll in the hay' or, 'Torres, I bet you could mow the lawn on that one.'
When he brought two slutty, McSlutties over to our table one Friday night, I finally had enough.
"Callie? This is Tina and --"
"Trina," the blonde slut giggled.
"What? Oh, right, Trina... Trina," he was staring down Trina's top and getting lost. I cleared my throat. "Umm, right..., Trina, and... Amber?" He looked at the blonde standing on his other side. She shrugged, accepting the name carelessly. Mark glanced at me, "She thinks you're hot."
I looked up at him, "I am hot."
His eyes swam over my body. "You're nothing if not honest."
Trina, apparently not appreciating NOT being the center of attention at all times, leaned in to Mark and reminded him of her presence.
"..uh, honest and lucky. Because Tin- Trina and Amber here are looking for a little fun tonight,aren't you ladies?"
"Just a little fun?" Trina let her hand move from Mark's chest down to his abdomen; low on his abdomen.
"My mistake; a lot of fun. Big. Big fun."
I rolled my eyes, and tried to ignore the curvy blonde Mark had brought for me.
"These lovely ladies are in town for the night -- flight attendants -- and they'd like to see what Seattle has to offer."
'Seriously Mark? You're better than this! You want more than this!' The words poured out of my eyes, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.
"...so I told them that you and I could show them... some of the better offerings of Seattle."
I glanced at the blonde... my blonde, Amber. She wasgood looking, if a bit overly made up. But she wasn't my type. I wasn't looking for a one night stand. I wanted a woman -- I looked back at Mark -- or a man, who wanted only me... not someone who only wanted me for the night.
Throwing back the last of my drink, I slid out of the booth, pressing past my tall, curvaceous blonde gift. "Sorry, no offense, but I'm a little tired tonight." Turning back to face Mark who was looking at me with open jawed confusion, I offered him a small smile, "see you at work tomorrow." Sparing one more glance at his two pieces of arm candy I offered a slightly sincere, "have fun ladies."
Things had been... strained between the two of us since then. As in... barely talking to one another strained. I didn't really begrudge Mark's sleeping with other women... not really. What I did begrudge him was his doing something that I knew he hated. He hated being considered a manwhore. He wanted to be more than that. He was more than that.
But Lexie, the bitch, had broken his faith in himself.
So yeah, it was nice to be standing in the hall with him... laughing about stupid stuff. Stupid stuff like some kids playing ding dong ditch.
Mark looked at me, and I looked at him, and then we both looked down at the end of the hall to where the wail we'd just heard had come from.
"Hello?" Mark called out.
Another piercing cry, a baby's cry, lit the hall.
Sharing a glance with Mark, I cautiously made her way down the hall. Turning the shallow corner that lead to the elevators she stopped mid stride. "Holy shit," I whispered.
"Who is it Cal?"
I bent down and picked up the blanket covered baby carrier, swinging it into sight as I turned back to face Mark who still stood in his doorway.
"Is that what I think it is?" His eyes were wide.
"I don't know, I haven't looked yet, but... I think it is." I started down the hall, carrying the heavy baby carrier towards Mark. I stared him in the eye. "Did Sloan...? Do you think this...?"
"She called to say the baby was born, but she said she was still giving him up." Mark looked from me to the cumbersome carrier, and back up at me.
"She might have changed her mind." My voice is soft as I reach Mark's door and hold the now quiet carrier out to him; I watch his face as he gingerly, carefully lifted the edge of the blanket.
His smile, the one that lights his face, is brilliant, but I see shades of sadness behind it.
"Definitely not Sloan's." He takes the carrier from me and turns it around so that I can see the baby contained within. A beautiful, dark skinned, most definitely African-american baby, with wide open dark eyes and a head full of curly hair.
"Definitely not Sloan's... unless she failed to mention something to you."
He touches the baby's cheek, "I don't suppose there was a mom or a dad standing in corner that you failed to bring back with you?"
"Sorry Marky. This was all I found."
Mark looked me in the eye -- I'm surprised by how much I've missed looking in those eyes – and he holds the baby out. "So what the hell are we going to do with 'this'?"