Author's Note: I hope you all enjoy this. I'm really excited about this story. =]

Since it's the first chapter, please review and let me know what you think!


Ever since she was young, Callie believed that everything came in threes. In high school, she learned that comedy came in threes. Fights came in threes. Crushes came in threes. During her internship years, she learned very fast that deaths came in threes. Trauma came in threes. And births came in threes. During residency, some shifts were so bad, that even homicides came in threes. So here she was, sitting at the nurse's station, staring at the clock, waiting for the third thing to happen. They always happened in threes. Even life-altering events.

Two months ago, Arizona left for Africa.

One month ago, Sloan married Lexie, at whose wedding Callie had officiated.

Arizona, who promised to never leave her, left. And Mark, her back-up penis, got married. Which was a happy occasion, really. But at this point, Callie was being selfish and was content having a little pity party by herself here at the nurse's station.

"I don't think you understand." A loud voice rang out from around the corner.

"I understand perfectly, ma'am. But I cannot let you in to see him."

"Why? Because I'm not family? I'm close enough to family. I might as well be." She paused, noticed Callie, and attacked. "You look like a doctor and competent person. I need to see Special Agent Derek Morgan. Now."

Callie looked the woman. Her hair was blonde with streaks of deep purple. Bright red glasses adorned her face. And her dress was a shade of blue loud enough to wake he. She sighed.

"Why don't you tell me your name? Then maybe I'll be able to help you."

"My name is Penelope Garcia. Now, would you please direct me to Derek Morgan's room."

"Okay. Look. I can't direct you to his room. He's in surgery right now. But I can tell you how he's doing." The blonde, Penelope, went oddly silent. "He fell off of a building, which you probably already know. He broke one of his legs, fractured both wrists, and broke several ribs."

"He was lucky." She said quietly.

"Yes. He was. I have set his broken bones and put casts on his wrists and leg. Right now, they are in the OR trying to stop the bleeding in his brain." Callie took a deep breath, then spoke in a softer tone. "Do you have any other questions?..."

Penelope shook her head.

"Okay, then right around the corner is the waiting room. The rest of your team should be there. I think they were waiting for you."

Callie watched the other woman hurry off. It was nice, seeing someone care that much about a colleague.

"Thank you…" She looked up to see that Penelope had turned around to speak to her.

"You're welcome." Callie smiled.


The moment Derek got out of surgery and into the ICU, Garcia nearly attacked the two doctors with questions.

"Garcia, Garcia," Prentiss tried to reign her in. "He's going to be fine. You just need to let the doctors talk."

She went silent, and backed away, pulling out her phone. Prentiss felt for her friend. Whenever any of them was in trouble, Garcia went crazy, but it was especially bad when Derek got hurt.

"I'm Dr. Shepherd, the neurosurgeon here at Seattle Grace. This is Dr. Grey. Special Agent Morgan is going to be fine." He said with a comforting smile. "I know you all were worried about him. His brain bleed is under control. He will be in a medically induced coma for the next few days, to ensure that the swelling is under control. However, he should be fine."

"Thank you," Emily sighed as Garcia hugged Dr. Shepherd so tight his arms were almost flailing.

When the doctors finally left and Garcia began to sit vigil at Derek's bedside, Emily wandered into the hall. She was kind of pissed that Hotch had made her go to the hospital with Derek while he, Rossi, and Reid continued with the case. But the longer she was here, the more she was glad that she got a reprieve from the gruesomeness. It was one of the worst cases she had ever been on. And that said something.

A man in Seattle, thinking he was being led by God, had begun killing homosexuals. People of all ages and races. It didn't seem to matter who the person was, this man would kill them. He learns their names and addresses from their credit cards where he works. He then learns their routines in his spare time until he can kidnap them. He waits until he can get the jump on them to take them down. He's not an extremely large man, but he is strong enough to take almost anyone with the element of surprise on his side.

After he kidnaps them, we believe he takes his victim to a secluded place like a secure basement where he can keep them without being detected that's also close to the city where he works and hunts. He will keep his victim there, torturing him or her for what we can only assume is names of other homosexuals he can hunt and take out. Their bodies are dumped in the city in semi-public areas nude with either "God Hates Dykes" or "God Hates Fags" written on them in permanent marker.

It was cases like this that really got to Emily.

She sighed and continued on, walking aimlessly. It was the one thing the rest of the team didn't know. Aside from maybe Garcia, or Reid, who knew everything. She didn't consider herself a lesbian, by any means, but she certainly had been known to find other women attractive. JJ, for instance, was someone she would willingly go after. But she also knew that there was a line. A line between work and play. Between friendship, companionship, and love. While others tended to straddle that line, Prentiss preferred to stay as far on the friendship line as possible. With everyone. In her experience, it was always safer that way.

"Hey," she heard from behind her. "Sorry, but you can't be down here. Can I help you?"

Emily turned around to see a tall, Latina doctor. Her heart sped up. This is the part that she always hated. The initial meeting. Rarely did the heart palpitations, butterflies, and general enamoredness happen after the first meeting. But damn, there was something about this dark haired doctor.

"I'm sorry," Prentiss put on her best professional façade. "I just got to thinking and walking and got lost."

"You're with the FBI agent, right?"

"Yeah," She smiled and held out her hand. "Special Agent Emily Prentiss."

"Dr. Callie Torres."


After filling in a teary-eyed blonde woman, a tall awkward man, and two angry looking men, on the status of Derek Morgan, Callie went for a walk, intending to let off some steam. The day hadn't gone particularly bad in any way. But the longer it went, the more frustrated the she got about what the next bad thing would be. Because it would happen. It always did. Things always happen in threes.

She passed Christina and Meredith arguing about something in the hallway. The only part of the conversation she could catch was about an unwanted pregnancy. She couldn't help but snort when she was out of earshot. They were married. They were happy. Their significant others didn't fly halfway across the world without them, without ever looking back. Now upset even more than before, Callie laid her hand on the wall bent over, breathing deeply.

The wall didn't feel right, under her hand. Something was off. Looking up, she saw a crayon picture of a pony in a hot air balloon.

She was on the peds floor. Awesome.

Bee-lining for the nearest elevator, she slipped in and pushed a random button. Desperate to be anywhere else. When the doors slid open, she found herself in the basement. Taking a left would lead her to the morgue. And a right would take her outside to the ambulances. Considering it was almost 45 degrees outside, she went left.

There were days, much like today, where she didn't know why she tried anymore. Tried to run. Tried to get better. It just hurt. She hurt. And she wasn't sure that would ever go away.

"Hey," she called out when she found she wasn't the only one in the hallway. "Sorry, but you can't be down here. Can I help you?"

The woman turned and Callie's breath caught in her throat. She was…beautiful. Pale, perfect skin, dark hair, and the curves….

Stop staring, she thought to herself. Stop staring.

"I'm sorry," the other woman apologized. "I just got to thinking and walking and got lost."

Recognition dawned on her, "You're with the FBI agent, right?" The last thing she needed was to have crush on, or heaven forbid fall for, an FBI agent.

"Yeah," She smiled and held out her hand. "Special Agent Emily Prentiss."

The smile was what did it. Had Callie not been sure-footed, she might have literally been knocked over, as cheesy as it sounded. This must be it. This was the third thing.

"Dr. Callie Torres."