Title: Another Statement of Causality
Status: In Progress
Pairings: Callie/Arizona, Cristina/Owen, Callie/Owen, and many many more.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. It is a tragedy I suffer through daily.
Summary: If Callie is meant to be with Arizona and Cristina is meant to be with Owen but Callie and Owen are married with kids then something must change. The status quo must shift. A continuation of 8x13 "If/Then."
The first punch caught Mark in the stomach. As the wind rushed out of his lungs and pain blossomed in his side he took a moment to be proud of Derek. Guy was protecting those million dollar hands by sticking to the fleshy parts of Mark.
He knelt on the catwalk a moment to catch his breath. Derek stood over him with those very expensive hands clasped into two very savage looking fists.
"Okay," he managed to get out, "I deserved that. I slept with your wife. Got her pregnant and took a job in your hospital." He looked up at Derek whose face was blank, his eyes dark. "Totally fair."
Then Derek wound his fist back and shot it forward cracking it into Mark's nose. Everything went red and white as the bridge of his nose crunched under the force of Derek's fist. The momentum of the punch sent the already unbalanced Mark down onto his back where he had a very nice view of the hospital lobby's ceiling.
There wasn't a speck of dust up there. Ellis Grey kept a clean house.
While musing on how exactly the custodians got up there to clean around the light fixtures Mark noticed something throbbing on the front of his face and something hot tickling his lips and dripping into his mouth. He started to stand and noticed in his periphery some doctors were pulling Derek away. He looked for Addison and saw her with the dark haired cardio surgeon at the end of the catwalk. Both women had an equally shocked look on their faces. It almost made them look like sisters.
A pair of hands wrapped around his arm and pulled him up. "Come on," he heard a voice say, and then he was being tugged off the catwalk and into an empty exam room.
Addison didn't even follow. The last he saw her was as the doors to the catwalk closed. She was still standing there. Stunned. And very, very pregnant with his child.
"Impressive way to start a new job," said the woman with him now. Her back was turned and she was pulling on gloves and loading a tray with equipment to fix his nose.
He tried to crack a charming smile but the area where his nose usually was throbbed painfully and instead he found himself wincing and cupping the offending appendage. "Look, as flattered as I am right now, I'm really in no mood for a quickie," he said through his hands. The blood was no longer leaking from his nose. Now it was gushing and made his words sound all congested.
The woman turn and gave him a quick dismissive smile, "So this can go two ways. I can fix your nose and you can be polite or you can keep hitting on me even though the whole hospital knows you knocked up a married woman."
He tried to glower at her because, really, she should be flattered by his flirting, but the ache in his nose had spread up into his sinuses and was trying to form some sort of migraine. He pulled his hands away from his nose and the woman stepped in between his legs to get a closer look.
She winced at whatever she saw, "You are definitely going to have two black eyes tomorrow."
She continued to look at his nose and he used the opportunity to look at her. She was cute in a girl next door kind of way. She had straight blond hair past her shoulders and a pair of blue eyes that almost have Mark envious. And dimples. He was a sucker for dimples.
Also a blouse that wasn't low cut but with her stooping forward to examine his nose it still gave him a perfect window of mind-boggling perfect cleavage.
The other doctor paused in her examination and Mark realized that she was staring at him.
"Eyes up here Dr. Sloan."
He dragged his eyes away from the valley of glory and pulled back when he realized she was now glowering at him.
"You really—are you ever off?"
He shrugged, "You put that kind of God given perfection in front of my face and you expect me not to stare."
He leaned in and raised an eyebrow, "I'm only marveling at what great genetics gave you."
She smiled, but it was one of those smiles like Derek always had on his face right before he tackled Mark and started punching. Faster than his best running stitch she set her instrument down and reset the broken bone in his nose.
There was pain.
And perhaps a shout on his part.
What a great first day.
A big gorgeous strapping guy suddenly shouting out in pain was enough to stop all three women. Callie had been nose deep in a patient's chart and Webber and Yang were following close behind giggling like new friends, but that shout stopped 'em dead.
All three heads swiveled to where the new guy, Sloan, was cupping his nose and swearing while glaring at his doctor.
Yang sounded almost wistful when she said, "McDreamy and McSteamy. Never would have seen that."
"McWhat," Webber asked.
Yang motioned to the other room where Robbins was now frowning and holding up a mirror so the new guy could do his own sutures on the nasty cut that had accompanied the.
Webber laughed, "What does that even mean?"
Yang shrugged, "The guy is built like a god, double board certified, the best plastic surgeon on the Eastern seaboard and currently doing his own sutures—on his face. McSteamy is totally appropriate."
"Yeah but where does the McDreamy come in?"
"Have you ever worked with Robbins? She is irritatingly perfect as far as peds surgeons go. And every nurse in the place worships her." Yang paused, and clearly forgot that her own attending was standing next to her because then she said, "And she's got better outcomes then any attending on staff. Going into boards she's your McDreamy. You definitely want in on her surgeries."
"I had no idea you were so eager to work with Dr. Robbins, Yang," Callie said, reminding both residents that she was, in fact, standing right next to them.
Yang's mouth fell open—because clearly she'd forgotten. "Oh…I didn't…"
Callie ignored Yang's poor attempt to soothe her ego and handed the other woman her chart, "How about you and Webber go see to Mrs. Clancy? And then you can do my charting for the rest of the day while you ponder "McDreamy's" perfection."
Yang almost looked as though she wanted to protest and Callie steeled herself for the ordeal, but then the other woman cast a glance at Webber. Something unspoken passed between the two women and they quickly fled to do as Callie requested.
That was—she was used to Yang and Webber bitterly sniping at one another not communicating sans words and getting along. She shuddered at how that particular friendship would turn out and turned her attention back to the exam room where Sloan was saying something that had Robbins laughing.
It was a nice laugh and carried through the hall, but for some reason it set something off in the pit of her stomach. Robbins getting along with Addison's fling just didn't seem…right.
The suture finished Mark handed the needle holder back to Robbins (he'd picked that up from the name embroidered on her coat) and eyed her warily. "Why are you being so nice?"
The question surprised her, "What do you mean?"
"We've established you're not doing it to get in my pants—which is stupid on your part—so what's going on?"
The other doctor grabbed some tape and started dressing his nose, "Everyone hates you."
"Thanks," he said and he hoped the sarcasm was really obvious.
"No, it's just—I've got a thing for hard luck cases. So when I see a clearly good surgeon become the pariah of the hospital before his first day is even over."
"So this is all out of pity?"
"Yup," she said brightly. She stepped away and observed their combined work. "And we're all done."
Mark snagged the mirror she been using and appraised the work she'd done dressing it. "Nice job. You working for me in plastics?"
"Not in a million years."
Something about how she said that—"What's wrong with plastics?"
She pulled her gloves off and threw them in the waste bin, "Nothing! If I wanted to get rich off insecure trust fund girls it would be an awesome specialty."
"Trust fund—I'll have you know I save lives."
She looked him up and down. It was rare to be appraised like that by a woman. She wasn't looking at him like she wanted to sleep with him. She was…judging him. Professionally. Because of his looks. "Sure you do."
He set the mirror down and hopped off the exam table, stepping into the smaller surgeon's space. She didn't back down. Just looked up at him with the most irritatingly amused look on her face, "I build skin," he said, "like God."
Robbins laughed again, then nodded and slipped past him. She paused at the door, still laughing to herself, "And I do big surgeries on little people," she waved her hands a little and dropped her voice, "like God."
Mark had to hop a little then jog to keep up with her. "You're in Peds," he asked incredulously.
She smiled, "Head of Pediatric Surgery."
"I let a Peds doctor work on my face!"
"Maybe you should've have been asking what I do here instead of stare at my bo—"
The brunette that had been with Addison out on the catwalk suddenly stepped in their path. Robbins stopped abruptly and a smile warmer than any Mark had ever seen on the woman suddenly spread across her face. "Dr. Torres," she said warmly.
He glanced at the other woman. She was gorgeous, sleek, professional and giving Robbins an…odd look. "Dr. Robbins," she started to smile then quickly schooled her face into something more neutral, "I see you've met our new head of plastics."
Robbins continued smiling and reached out lightly touching Mark's shoulder, "I did. Dr. Sloan this is Dr. Torres. Our brilliant head of Cardiothoracic surgery."
Torres missed the hand Sloan extended in greeting, her eyes still glued to the spot where Robbins' fingers met Mark's coat.
He tried a little Sloan charm, "If I'd known the heart surgeons looked so good over here I would have moved sooner."
That pulled Torres away from the staring fest. She didn't smile but she took the offered hand.
"Well I…" she paused, "I just wanted to say hi." She seemed to nod to her self and then quickly slid past them. He and Robbins both watched her go.
"Don't be offended," Robbins said, "She's pretty close with Good Shepherd. Probably trying not to take sides."
"Uh huh," the Shepherds had nothing to do with that exchange, "Wait. Good Shepherd?"
"The name the residents gave the carrier of your child."
That had him grinning, "So what's Derek? Bad Shepherd?"
"Or McDreary depending on the day."
"Our residents are okay in the OR, but spectacular when it comes to making up names for the attendings."
"So you have a name too?"
"Uh huh—" At that moment Robbins' pager went off. She glanced at it quickly. Then started jogging towards some unknown destination where sad looking sick kids were dying.
"You gonna tell me it," he shouted after her.
"Not in a million years!"
The drama of the last two days had the hospital in a serious uproar. First the thing with Webber, Karev and Kepner, then the plastics god from New York showing up and attempting to whisk Addison off her feet, and now that same plastics god working his charm on Dr. Robbins.
Okay the last part didn't really have the hospital in an uproar. Callie wasn't even sure why it had her upset. They were two consenting adults, if Robbins wanted to sleep with a manwhore and ruin her sterling reputation than who was Callie to say otherwise.
Whatever. Things were a mess all over the hospital. Chief Grey had turned into an unholy terror, her daughter was actually friends with Yang, Webber Senior was being quieter then usual and Bailey had disappeared. The gossip was flying fast and loose in discussing it all and at least four different people had come up to tell her that Bailey had been fired because she showed up Grey in the ER. Three told her they saw Webber and Bad Shepherd making out in a supply closet and one very timid nurse had just informed her that the broken window being replaced down in the ER was due to her own husband's fist.
But in spite of all of it her mind kept drifting back to Robbins and the easy way she'd had with the manwhore. How could she tell the other woman that she deserved better then being the mistress of a guy who was himself a mistress and would leave her the moment Addison started talking to him again without coming off as a busy body?
Somehow that particular problem consumed nearly her entire lunch. Which she'd been forced to take in her office in an effort to avoid more rumor mongers. She was getting ready to toss the limp remains of her salad when Owen slipped in.
She noticed the bandage still tightly wrapped around his hand and remember what the nurse had said. She needed to confront him about it. See if it was as true as she felt it to be.
But instead she smiled, "Hey sweetie. How're you feeling?"
He looked down at the bandages, "Yea—all right."
"You should get down to Ortho and have them have a look at it."
"That's all right. I ran into Yang earlier. She checked it out."
"Yang's probably never even seen the inside of a hand. No, you should get down to Ortho."
"I'm fine Callie."
And there it was. That sharp tone in his voice. "This is the end of the conversation," it seemed to say. It was appearing more and more often now days. Limiting their conversations to the weather, adorable things the kids did and…actually that was it. They couldn't talk about anything any more.
It got better sometimes. When he talked to his friend Teddy he was noticeably cheerier, and he'd made some unseen friend at the hospital who seemed to help, but Callie. Callie could do nothing.
Sometimes it felt like just being around him made him worse.
"Okay," she said evenly. That was the only apology she had left in her anymore.
He gave her that heart shattering smile of his. "I'll do better," it said, "I promise."
One day that smile wouldn't tear into her soul. Wouldn't force her out of her chair and into his arms. One day it wouldn't lead to them desperately clutching each other in the search for something normal.
They embraced one another in silence.
And still, in her husband's arm she was thinking about the Robbins problem.
"My mom did not fire Mandy."
Having a weird perky gossipy friend was a new thing for Cristina. After Izzie bombed out and Burke abandoned her she'd gotten used to the solitude of Seattle Grace. She ate lunch alone and did her charts alone and when Torres wasn't avoiding her husband or kissing Grey's ass she was scrubbing in on her surgeries.
She developed a rhythm.
Meredith Webber thoroughly interrupted that rhythm with her relentless perkiness. Which was, Cristina had to note, distinctly different from optimism or happiness. She wasn't like Robbins who puked rainbows and peed sunshine. There was a dark tinge to the Webber perk.
And though Cristina had promised herself she'd never befriend another perky person after Izzie she had to admit Webber wasn't so bad. That perkiness didn't interfere with her work and she finally had someone with whom she could talk about the hospital comings and goings. Which at that moment concerned their former resident, Mandy Bailey.
"Technically your dad fired Mandy. Your mom just made the order."
Webber—Meredith scoffed. "That doesn't even make sense. Mandy's a little puppy dog."
"Who apparently made a fool of your mom in front of international press."
This gave Meredith pause. "Mom can be pretty petty."
"Wait, so your mom did fire Bailey?"
"I thought—you told me that!"
"It was a rumor, a rumor that you are now confirming as being plausible."
Once upon a time, or two days earlier, the conversation would have gone a lot differently. Meredith would have defended her mom and called Cristina a weirdo. Cristina would have told her to go fuck herself and then Karev would have swooped in from wherever and broken them up.
But now here they were talking about Meredith's mom like she might be the next Anti-Christ. Chiefly because only an antithetical answer to God would fire the kindest most affable woman in the whole hospital.
"That's just so wierd to think of, you know? Mandy's like a baby version of Robbins. I can't imagine her sabotaging my mom."
"I can. It's always the quiet ones Meredith. They're just waiting and watching and stewing."
Meredith laughed, "Like Hunt. Did you know he broke a window down in the Pit yesterday?"
Of course Cristina knew, she'd been there. And the pain on his face—the helplessness—had been terrifying.
Meredith poked her straw down into her drink looking for the last bits of diet soda, "I honestly don't know how that whole thing with Torres works. Two tempers like that," she shuddered, "Thanksgiving must be fun at their house."
"The guy's sick."
"So? That's why psychiatry exists."
Aaand the perkiness was now turning obnoxious.